Morning of June 25, 2020. Thursday.

        Dream #: 19,547-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.

        While in higher liminality (the dual perceptions between imaginary dream space and conscious-self awareness), I passively watch and listen to an impersonal scene without integrating into it. It is an impossible but uneventful scenario taking place in the backyard of our current home in the late morning. Even so, I find it interesting in its mundane and peaceful continuity.

        A station wagon is in our backyard, parked adjacent to the southeast corner of our house and facing west (impossible, as our yard is fenced, but this is what dreams do to prevent waking-life connections). Two unfamiliar men are near it, one near its right door at the front and one near the back. The rear hatch is open. They are having a conversation, but I do not discern the words.

        At this stage, my dream correlates with my liminal perception of being in REM sleep. A vehicle is usually a co-occurrent identifier of an amalgam of my bed and my bodily awareness and the potential imaginary kinaesthesia of dreaming.

        To clarify the causal factors and their specific threads:

        The imaginary parked car is in our backyard and facing west, which correlates with my head's orientation being to the west as I sleep. One man, the one near the front (the car being right-hand drive), is a personification of my contemplation of integrating more with the dream state as its "driver" (by integrating more into the dream state and initiating imaginary kinaesthesia). The other man, near the open rear hatch, is a personification of my additional reflection of holding my awareness of being in bed (as I sometimes slept in the back of station wagons as a boy).

        I release this liminal modulation. I enter into lesser dream state awareness as a result. I consider creating a narrative with wolves in it stemming from my recent nostalgic associations with "The Language and Music of the Wolves" (narrated by Robert Redford), a vinyl LP. In waking life, my classmates and I had sat in my middle-school classroom in the dark, listening to the audio, imagining wolves scratching at the door. It was a satisfying eerie experience.

        Even so, my intent meanders, and my dream vivifies into a different narrative. I still have viable conscious-self identity and an awareness of my current address, though the house's layout is wrong (again, to prevent confusion with wakefulness or waking-life relevance).

        I become wary of at least three cats growling and hissing behind our closed back door, seemingly in the late morning. I see variations of light and partial shadows from their movement (mainly from their feet) through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor (though there is no such gap in waking life). Soon, one of the cats impossibly darts through this gap (like paper sliding under our door) and runs into our kitchen (though this being the wrong layout as our back door leads to a short hall). Even so, I perceive no threat as it races past me to my right (waking orientation).

        The results of this dreaming process vary with ultradian rhythm, sleeping position, and my specific level of liminality. Here are some other noteworthy examples:

        In childhood, I began using cats to define the duality between imaginary dream space and potential wakefulness, mainly to hold liminality and sustain the dream state. In "Witch Cat" (February 14, 1969), I kept the cat in the doorway (door open), though the cat's head zoomed into my face, coalescing with my thoughts.

        In "Fenced Cats" (January 29, 2020), My liminal duality is by way of a little fence atop a rectangular coffee table (with cats behind it) rather than a doorway, the only difference being the depth of cortical nuances.

        It goes back to age six when a "Shadow Cat" (influenced by 1962's "Gay Purr-ee") taught me of the dynamics stemming from the transition of sleep atonia to myoclonus (the cause of falling and flying dreams with the opportunity to sustain the dream state).

        Morning of April 9, 2003. Wednesday.

        Dream #: 13,260-02. Reading time: 24 sec.

        I am outside in the late morning and watch a toy train that travels on miniature railroad tracks that encircle our fence and return from the other side. I get the impression that someone is on the other side of our fence, but I do not see them. I do not feel any imposition.

        Morning of April 11, 2020. Saturday.

        Dream #: 19,472-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.

        The first features and events in my dream are a result of the usual instinctual management of precursory liminality that always involves temporarily blocking the function of the reticular activating system, which sometimes personifies as a trespasser at the liminal threshold, though only in contrast to my desire to keep sleeping, or in some cases, as a result of environmental noise that might need addressing. The process does not emerge in all dreaming experiences and is most likely to be part of the last dream of a sleep cycle for the final waking transition.

        This dream has more ambiguous compartmentalization than usual. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother's side) is present near the last stage, but I have no recall she died in 2014. Zsuzsanna and I live in the Loomis Street house (even though she has never been to America), and I have no recall of having lived in Australia since 1994. There is also a point at which I recall our youngest son as he is now, though curiously, in that same segment, Zsuzsanna (his mother) is young and unknown.

        The modulation of the first stage involves a fictitious neighbor (potential preconscious personification, that is, the sleep-wake mediator) to the south of the Loomis Street house. However, there is a fictitious driveway on the south side of our supposed house. Even though the driveway leads to the backyard, I block access at its front, supposedly to also have privacy from the neighbor. This instance of otherwise familiar dream state management is unusual, as it is an amalgam of both a fence section (more so as a gate nailed shut) and the outer wall of a house that includes a window. As many times as this process has occurred since childhood, I think this is the first time this unique composite has resulted. Zsuzsanna and I talk about whether this is possible. I have difficulty setting it up, bending a nail with a hammer, but eventually, the wall is stable.

        In the last segment, Marilyn is in the Loomis Street dining room. My youngest son and I are watching the night sky, though this process usually only occurs in Cubitis. I watch a light moving in the east. I see clouds with unusual random shapes.

        When I focus on the porch through the open door of the living room as I sit on the floor, I see some surreal features. There are several men about three feet tall though of normal proportions. A chubby bald man has two miniature heads that are side by side and identical to his, jutting from the top of his head.

        Morning of March 24, 2020. Tuesday.

        Dream #: 19,454-02. Reading time: 2 min 40 sec.

        Surreal distortions and unique false memory constructs integrate with the routine dreaming processes in the standard order, with mostly a passive narrative (predictable preconscious eluding) with typical virtual amnesia. My waking-life identity meanders in and out in this exceptionally long dreaming experience. Instinctual summoning is a factor, but it never emerges into full lucidity, only liminality in the last scene.

        In the first scene, I am at the false location of La Crosse at the Loomis Street house. The house to its right (also on Loomis Street) when viewed from the street, is fictitiously inhabited by Earl (half-brother on my mother's side; deceased). Bob (brother-in-law; recently deceased) is present in his house. (I have no recall of their deaths.)

        I walk several blocks south of Loomis Street (on Sill Street) when I become annoyed at two homeless men walking around in (and possibly living in) my dumpster (that is otherwise mostly empty). At this point, I am aware of Zsuzsanna being to my left. Unknown people are with us. I tell the homeless men to leave, but one of them pushes a big concrete slab against the door, so it cannot be opened (even though dumpsters do not have entry doors like this in real life). I become angrier and tell them that there are shelters for homeless people. They do not seem to want to listen to me as I repeat myself several times.

        Wall mediation (second stage) becomes viable with a chain-link fence defining the division between dream space and potential liminality (with similar processing dynamics as "An Unexpected Late Night Visit" from March 17). The homeless men are now in someone's front yard on the other side of the fence. I summon a gun and shoot one of them. He somehow becomes embedded in the fence. I shoot at the other male, but the bullet gets stuck in the fence and does not reach him. (In the March 17 dream, I was in our present home with a sleep-wake mediator outside of our fence. Earlier, I deliberately hung a scarecrow on the fence. Also, I threatened to use a gun but did not.)

        Processing dynamics and instinctual elements meander, and as a result, I suddenly consider I may have committed a crime. I walk briskly with Zsuzsanna and the unknown people east down Sill Street to be out of sight in case the police arrive. I had left the gun behind and suddenly consider my fingerprints might have been on it. I return to the invalid construct of the houses on Loomis Street. Even though Bob and Earl are still standing around, the houses are missing. Only sunken foundations are left. I decide to run to the King Street mansion with the expectation of a portal in the middle room on the east side (second floor). My waking-life identity is gone again.

        After going through the portal in the big closet nearest the entry door, I am technically in the same world but phased to be invisible and intangible. I walk past police who are talking to the King Street landlady. They ask her about my whereabouts and in what organizations I had been. I fly and phase through buildings, going north.

        Instinct triggers typical subliminal awareness of being in bed. I find myself on the side of a mountain with an unknown female (probably Zsuzsanna in my absent waking-life identity). I am under a blanket with her as she sleeps. She rolls over and seems to see me, and I am somewhat surprised. "Oh, you can see me?" I ask.

        Morning of March 17, 2020. Tuesday.

        Dream #: 19,447-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min.

        Dream sequence 1 is predictable sleep-wake mediation of emerging liminality stemming from my instinctual recognition that dream state physicality is not real. An imaginary fence defines my skewed perception of potential liminality as a virtual barrier between sleep and consciousness.

        In this instance of the usual process, my dream incorrectly establishes that it is Halloween (an incidental association with the false identity of the dream state). Another error (to stop waking-life agreement) is that the fence on the west side of our house is not a solid wall. The events occur late at night.

        At this point, precursory liminality allows for my recall of Zsuzsanna (though the recall we have children initiates later in my dream). Additionally, as a result of the dynamics of this process, I have a viable recall of where I live in waking life (rather than the usual false setting). I am setting up a scarecrow, using some of my clothes, as a Halloween decoration. It is on the inside of our fence near the northwest corner. It is my instinctual analogy of validating my dream state physicality as false but still as a precursor to potential physical discernment. (A scarecrow has occurred as this signification in previous dreams, though statues and dolls are more common.)

        Dream sequence 2 is further activation of the foundational process as previously described and explained. It stems from physicality becoming a more emergent factor but also inclusive of disguised recall that I have a young daughter. As a result, an unfamiliar black girl (of about seven years of age) stands to the left of the outside of our front gate (from our porch's viewpoint) where the mailbox is in reality (though it is not present in my dream). (Being near the mailbox location, despite its erroneous absence, is a factor of sleep-wake communication or, assuming enigmatic space is overlapping into my dream space, transpersonal communication, probably from our daughter.) She aggressively shakes the vertical bars of the fence, making an incredible racket. I tell her to stop, but she continues.

        "I'm going to get my gun," I say through our open front door, though I am not serious. I want the unknown child to go away even though her presence is the result of deliberate summoning to vivify my dream, which it does, exponentially. (A gun is typically the result of the fictitious dream self attempting to maintain an illusion in contrast to the reticular activating system initiating, which is otherwise the natural progression of sleep-wake transitioning.) The child does not leave. I turn left to ask Zsuzsanna where the gun is. (Zsuzsanna sleeps on my left.) I have the false recall that I own a gun and that it might be on the DVD player (association with imagination, correlating with watching movies). The girl eventually leaves but comes back with her father.

        Dream sequence 3 establishes that emerging liminality changes the direction of my dream. The girl and her father are in our lounge room. At first, I see it as an intrusion. My dreaming status resets and loops with different events five times. In the third loop, there are about five members of the girl's family entering our home, including her mother and an older sister. I am puzzled and ask them how they are doing this. One of them points at the outside of our front door, and I see that there is a silver key in the door's barrel lock. Still, at this point, my dream has reset again, and the family is only now arriving on our porch.

        Suddenly, I recall that I have a young daughter (which eventually unlocks recall I have additional children). I think she might like to meet the unknown girl. I no longer see the people as intruders even though I did not ask them in. I look around, but I cannot find her. I ask family members where she is.

        Dream sequence 4 is the fourth form of liminality mediation when the unnamed man sits down on our couch to watch television. I notice that, as he is sitting down, a much older man than him on the television screen is sitting down, mirroring his actions, though he has a white beard while the man in our lounge room has no beard. I find this amusing, but I do not comment on it.

        The man on television, with his short white beard, correlates with my waking-life identity, triggering my waking.

        Morning of December 20, 2000. Wednesday. 40th birthday.

        Dream #: 12,420-01. Reading time: 24 sec.

        Morning of October 01, 2019. Tuesday.

        Dream #: 19,279-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.

        Wall mediation (precursory): My imaginary dream self integrates into a typical wall mediation scenario (that occurs at least once each sleep cycle). Despite the vividness and my instinctual attention to the process, my identity is mostly absent at first. There are several unfamiliar people present with me (to my right, waking orientation when on my left side) in an undefined room, though I do not look at them. I am close to a wall of a yellowish cream color, near where it meets a corner. The paint is densely cracked but not flaking. It seems there may be a haunted essence (caused by being between dreaming and waking when on a specific ultradian curve).

        Wall mediation (waking the sleeper): I mentally open the wall perpendicular to the first and to my left. Inside it (with only enough space to contain standing people who are facing outward) are four soldiers from the eighteenth century in suspended animation (inactive reticular formation), standing side-by-side, about two feet apart. The two leftmost are Asian warriors. The other two are British soldiers. I consider each Asian warrior somehow serves one of the others, though they are seemingly in a deeper state of sleep. The two rightmost soldiers have locks attached to their left arm, though the keys are in plain sight, hanging a short distance from their lock on a small chain (as with the type used to turn on a lightbulb by pulling on it, rendering this autosymbolism as an obvious play on becoming conscious). The keys have wing insignias (with at least three bars of shorter length from top to bottom) oriented left, similar to the left half of an aviation badge (a static flight association implying a soft awakening from sleep). I unlock the soldier second from my right (as he correlates with my position in bed, with the rightmost soldier a distorted - but changing - awareness of Zsuzsanna) but I wake before unlocking the rightmost one.

        Despite my dreams always using the same simple autosymbolism (typically in the same order) representing co-occurrence with the transitions throughout the sleep cycle, there are often threads of incredible, enigmatic space. The first thing I saw after waking, I did not expect. It was the "Space Seed" episode of "Star Trek" (the twenty-second episode of season one) where warriors on an old spaceship ("Botany Bay") came out of suspended animation with the help of Captain Kirk and his crew. (I must point out I hardly ever watch television at this time, and I knew nothing about the station's schedule.)

        It is not unusual for the preconscious to personify as either authority or as the indicator of being asleep. What makes this correlation more defined is that the episode has sleeping warriors (including Asian) that serve another nationality (Khan), and a crew waking them from a sleeping chamber in a wall.

        Morning of September 18, 2019. Wednesday.

        Dream #: 19,265-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.

        This specific type of wall mediation has occurred in dreams since childhood and usually has at least some of my waking life identity present. It involves using a wall to modulate the virtual division between dream space and consciousness, in this case, by mentally painting a wall, typically as blue (for reinduction or sustaining the dream state).

        The setting is implied to be our present home but is unfamiliar. The wall is yellow (precursory of emergence from the dream state), so I am painting it blue on both sides of an open area. Over time, the paint seems lumpier and lumpier.

        I try to sustain my dream by slapping on more and more blue paint on each side of the walls with the wide doorway that is about three feet out from the corners of the perpendicular walls, but I can still see patches of yellow showing through. Zsuzsanna and our children are in the area. Although my dream becomes more vivid with the presence of yellow, I am vaguely concerned about the appearance of the sloppy blue paint.