Forced myself to get up and write this down. I experienced a lapse of consciousness which I felt and saw. It was a short and sweet instance of the suction of sleep pulling me right out. This is seen as a blank period on a timeline of a specific length, say half the length of the red bicycle I then mounted and rode away on. Then after about 1 bicycle length on this horizontal timeline in the 3D darkness, something pulled me back and the voice of idiossification started lying to me, telling me not to get up. "You'll remember later..." The usual lie. This timeline was a solid dark gray the height of a bicycle. Blank spot before and after the bicycle representing periods of time mentioned above. Very cool. This was a dream or non-lucid or semi-lucid OBE or vision, not thinking or visualizing, it was an experience that happened to me. I had to stop and say, Wow, what just happened.
--this journal, August 2, 2016
2016-06-28 4:30 am
I've done something to loosen up the way the fence holds up the whole compound by cutting something loose somewhere. It's winter and there's some snow on the ground, but it's warm. I can't get everything to slip down and rest on the ground, it's still propped up somewhere by being held up by the big log corral. I walk around on the long fence, jumping up and down on things, trying to get the inside part to slp down, but it won't budge. I wonder how violently everything will slide when I finally find the right place to pry free. I go out into the forest and a couple of me are talking together about surrounding property owners. I mention the name Holmes but I'm ignored. I vault back in over the fence and roll to the ground inside, singing a silly song.
2016-06-29 1:05 am
My dad and I have to get home and I figure now's as good a time as any. I look at a clock and figure I must have called a taxi maybe ten minutes ago. I realize they might arrive to get us at any moment, then I happen to notice as I look around that the taxi--a white van--is sitting outside waiting.
I go to tell my dad, who's in the kichen with our hostess, that I had taken the liberty of calling a taxi, so because of that, the taxi's waiting and we have to go. I get my 60 pesos together and he procures an empty coffee powder sachet and give it to me to pay his fare with. I get in the taxi planning what to say, but then I see it's a money drop device that the driver can see through like they have on buses. So I don't say anything, just drop my money and the sachet, and some small coins appear as change in the top of the dispenser and I pry them up with my fingers.
The driver explains that he has to take us to a certain place downtown--Glenwood Springs--and drop us off so we can get a ride from there. He says his shift is ending and says, "I'm beat." I'm mentally going over this and grudgingly trying to decide whether to accept this without an argument, since it might mean I have to pay two fares, when I realize the driver has started off without my dad.
I fly into a rage, but he won't stop, so I open my door and start shouting for the police, but my shouter feels kinda broken. [Sleep paralysis.] I jump out and continue shouting, managing to get more volume out of my voice, and watching the van get farther away, now 1/2 block distant. And carrying my sister K. The three of us are now in three separate places.
I mentally put the van right where I am and imagine grabbing it by the top of the side window frame and rocking it back and forth till it rolls over on its side onto the sidewalk. I tell myself this is possible because vans are top heavy. Then my cogitation is broken when I realize that the van being stopped right here could be a trick--an ambush.
Sure enough, the driver, now crazed with anger, appears on my right, approaching me with a big rock about 8 inches long, 4 x 6 inches wide, a rough yellowish rock. He throws it at me from four feet away and I reflexively put my right arm out to stop it. It grazes my hand, which hurts, because it scrapes the top of my fingers, or did I hit the wall with my hand? Where I'm sleeping?
[I wake up and my right arm is pinned down by Taran's leg.]
[LS] I'm standing on a quiet country lane and a big bus is trying to turn left onto an even smaller lane, causing me to have to move out of its way while I experience some sort of evaluation of the bus behavior that I feel the need to verbalize.
[NLOBE] Climbing out or saw my dream body climbing out.
[Noticed I was able to wake up without moving last night. I think that's more important than anything, sort of a magic bullet.]
[Will repeat the mantra "dream". I don't do this continuously, just when I feel a thought coming on.]
[First time I said "dream" a black hole appeared with a black funnel beneath it and I held the image while it morphed and I got directly above it instead of seeing it from the side. It seemed to disappear but that was because I was very close. I could see its edges, like a big hole in the ground or a big cave entrance going straight down. Next I noticed the suction of sleep very strongly as a localized tingling sensation in my lower lip. This lower lip tingle happened sometime today or yesterday too, as a sign of the suction of sleep. This came and went twice and then I noticed a strong hypnagogic twitch as my dream body made a hand motion to my left. It's as if he was plucking me and the twitch was supposed to induce vibration or something. This is what occurred to me at the time. Then I just disappeared for awhile, a few more auditory hallucinations, but I couldn't manage to memorize the words. [NLOBE] I saw one of my bodies lying face down hovering above a surface unconscious. I saw this from close by.]
2016-07-01 2:00 am
Green potato chips.
[The following might have been an ESP dream as I just learned from FB that today is MR's birthday.]
A character who [I just realized] resembles MR is driving several of us in a big convertible experimental car in a chilly beautiful neighborhood with stone walls lining curvy sloping streets and large houses spaced apart from each other and set back from the road. But there is something vaguely illicit about what we're doing, many forgotten details. The driver finds the car unsteerable and mashes it against a stone wall.
Inside a nearby living room MR has set up a bunch of computers on a long table and people are trying to learn how to use them. The keys are some sort of magical tiny screens that somehow read the user's intent.
Now it's an industrial area in a historical city clogged with railroad tracks and interchanges in this certain area. The wooden locomtoives are painted all colors and approach each other at a high speed, forcing the drivers to be extremely aware of what's going on and highly trained and totally concentrated on what they're doing. The driver has to move a lever in the locomotive cab at the last second to avoid head-on collisions with other locomotives. This happens over and over and I am riding one of them, so afraid and I find the skill and dexterity of the engineers to be amazing and entrancing.
[NLOBE] An arched tunnel, went through it.]
[NLOBE] I notice my legs kinda half heavy or more and without any premeditation or stong reason I go to lift my right hand to scratch or something, and it goes up a few inches, then I notice it's paralyzed, and put it down again. Then get to thinking, Now wait a minute--I lifted it, felt it go up? Then realized it was paralyzed and set it back down? That was dual consciousness, a phantom wiggle.
[LS1] Taran shows me some written instructions on a box or can of coffee and asks me what "7 cups" means. I tell him I will reply when I wake up.
[LS2] I see as a four-panel black-and-white cartoon and simultaneously act out something about the process of going to sleep and waking up.
Janitor? in a church? like multipurpose room? Hiding in the dark while people carry on their activities in the next room with two others of my kind. I go outside and walk laboriously up a lumpy wall between two buildings next to a huge GREEN BLANKET MADE INTO A TUNNEL full of sleeping people/teenagers who are having a sleepover--church group/youth group. I want to use a building or facility but I'm told to wait till the current users are finished. I'm reading something that lists the two places that are used by this organization, one of which is a pastor's home and one a church. I want to join in becaue I feel a sense of camaradarie when I think about them.
[Went back to sleep trying to memorize the details of that one and then woke up immediately after this one:]
A sorcerer named Papa or Pappy---looks like R. Lang with neat hair and beard and magician look--has moved on to the other side and a goodbye ceremony has been arranged by his followers. The spokesperson of this organization is the singer Cher. I'm watching the magician and the meeting both. Someone informs Cher that the magician can't hear her, but someone else says that he can feel her words. Pappy smiles while he listens, and then stops smiling and I wonder what that signifies. The magician's face and shoulders are visible through a square screen behind a plate of glass, and his facial expressions change considerably while Cher rants on in detail, sobbing, about how much she will always love and remember him. Also while she talks and sobs loudly, the background inside the glass around the magician fills in with a scarlet color till the last speck of background is the color red.
[Every time I woke up, it was exactly the same. I had what I call sleep paralysis gagging--a short period of panic in which I feel I'm suffocating, either can't breathe and/or choking on saliva. Today I learned to stop this panic by taking a few deep fast breaths and swallowing a couple times. I think the reason I don't get sleep paralysis consciously is that's how fast I go through it and it's over. And I think in normal sleep, that is taken care of before the mind wakes up. But when hovering very close to sleep for a long time, I think the mind can wake up first, then I get this short panic. Same thing happens when I breathe myself to sleep in daytime sessions to make myself have little dreams. Wake up in a panic convinced I can't breathe...]
[Seemed like a long hour. No memory of dreams or of being awake as such, just the sense each time I woke that I had not been deep asleep, but rather almost aware. Interesting though not very pleasant... Also had vibrations, mild each time I woke up.]
Test driving a new car, some kind of VW, but no visual awareness of the car itself, just the road and motion and myself. Daytime on a long straight smooth urban road four lanes with wide island between. Sensation of newness and smoothness. Going up a long gradual hill, downshifting, seeming lack of power upon which I comment. Focus changes from power to "where will I go". I decide to go to the Library, but then think better of it since this is a test drive and it might get damaged. I head for a U-turn at a light so I can go back the way I came.
Homeless, (my favorite dream version of me, who I call "Limberluck") going over in my mind the details of how I somehow managed to spend half the night in an atm shelter without being arrested and beaten by police. I recall using the CCTV at the atm fo film myself, making a home movie of myself looking into the camera and then running straight away from it wondering where I got the tuxedo, as I watch/replay this.
Mark and I are living together in a large room. I have put a privacy curtain down the middle. Purple or blue color.
I'm at a water plant that has just been built. I have a small bucket full of water and I'm walking around a pool or other rectangular area. I go to the far side of it and look from a distance at a most amazing spinning slotted cone [similar to what's in Rainbow vacuum cleaners but it's] about ten feet in diameter, so when it spins at a blurry speed, it makes a powerful scary sound. I do not go very close because it's scary and I wonder if the people who work there will be proud of me for being safety conscious. I set my bucket down and walk away.
I'm walking on and above the concrete grated area surrounding the pool. I can hear noises below in the underground area where there is water and equipment. I imagine what it would be like to fall down in there unable to get out. I imagine screaming and crying for help and no one coming to save me.
Then I'm up on a tin roof looking down. I'm planning to grab the edge of an adjoining roof and swing down to the ground floor but I feel weird because I'm not wearing any underwear. I tell myself it's OK because I am wearing pants so no one will know that things are flopping around down there. I go ahead and swing, still self-conscious about the flopping. A pretty woman is walking by. She has brown hair, a white dress, and an interesting nose.
Talking to a friend [the guy who ran a piano store at Mall 205 in Portland and threatened to kill me for billing him on a double piano tuning for a piano that badly needed to be tuned twice] who works at an insurance company because the company has not been coming through with its obligations. He explains that the company has recently had to pay out a big settlement that has nearly bankrupted them.
He invites me home for dinner with his wife and mother. When there, I realize it's not a matter of if, but when, he beats me to death, because I have ratted him out to the police, and I remember too late what he has promised to do to anyone who does that. I'm so nervous I start eating glass bottles. I eat a whole bottle, but can't eat any more. I'm relieved to find that they have a place to put them and I tell the guy's mother, what a relief. I can't make myself eat any more glass.
[Spent yesterday deleting political posts from FB because I'm now afraid of both US and the Philippines governments' invasion of privacy and persecution of victimless crimes. (Added note: I spent ten days or more deleting all controversial FB posts... I had gotten to be in the habit of shooting my mouth off about politics on FB and it is bad for my practice, I should be spending that time and energy and focus meditating, which is the opposite of having these dualistic mental attachments and does not exacerbate any internal fears. --ed.]
[Fought sleep off and on all day, nodded off at the computer at least 15-20 times, when I went to bed and thought of me above my head. I got lots of fancy hypnagogic imagery like a rotating scepter made of two intertwining snakes (DNA/kundalini).]
Working on an upright piano restoration and refinishing trying to measure a part. Catch myself measuring the yardstick instead. Wonder why it's exactly 100 cm long, then realize because it's a meter stick. Russell is SC. In a nightclub Roger Miller with live band, "King of the Road," jazzy version. [Limberluck again. Vibey, going back to bed.]
[I was just at a birthday dinner for Jayruse and left early, my excuse being, Mag-ulan ug buta ko sa ngitngit." ("It's going to rain and I can't see in the dark.") At the EXACT moment I said "dark" all the power went out. This phrase--"Buta ko sa ngitngit"--is invested with excess stored energy because it is the phrase I used (wrongly) that got me attacked...]
[Still deleting FB posts. Did a lot of breathing last three days at computer while doing this mindless repetitive task.]
[When I went to bed I noticed a big difference since I drank 1/2 decaff after drinking straight decaff for 2-3 days. Once I decided what to do, it didn't take long to go to sleep. But not all of me was asleep. Part of me was vaguely or slightly aware at all times and this part of me was relieved at finally shifting into a dream state. This part of me was tiny, could have easily been missed. The past three hours were spent in a somewhat timeless state. Started doing stage 1 of Fred Aardema's Vigil technique--focus/unfocus sync with breath--then changed from focus on X to focus just above head which appeared as a bird with outspread wings-that's the last I remember till...]
Driving down a mountain at night into Nevada City in my old Datsun. I'm enjoying the night and the drive and looking forward to driving up the next mountain when I realize I have just now come to consciousness behind the wheel and wonder with alarm how badly I was spacing out, wwhether asleep or not? I decide to go home, which happens to mean I take the next right and head back up the hill above downtown into the familiar area at the top of the hill.
It is now daylight [which I never notice; I still think of it as night]. I realize my car is out of gas as it sputters and dies at a stop sign. I wonder if it can be coaxed the last few blocks to home. I get it started again, but immediately look for a usable parking space since it's still sputtering. I coast to a stop outside a store that's closed, and read little white signs with black letters posted at each consecutive parking space along the sidewalk: one is for this kind of parking, one is that kind of parking, overdone even for the US style of micro-managing everything we do with our cars. I let it drift into a "beer parking only" space, resolved to return early in the morning with a little gas and a tool to get some into the carburetor, and hope the parking ticket won't be too much. [I wake up into the timeless state again and go over the few details of this short dream for awhile, then the power comes on and I get up to write it down. I have a memory of finding myself in the timeless state shortly after seeing the bird over my head, but oddly enough can't place it in time.]
Late at night in the University classroom building, I'm determined to find the answer I'm looking for, even if I have to search from room to room, piecing it together bit by bit. And that's what I do. I'm surprised to find the rooms unlocked and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that I'm being monitored by CCTV, and as a matter of fact I am. After making some progress learning the secrets of heat, a large fat man who appears to be the janitor or night watchman bursts in on me and explains that he knows there are four people making their way from classroom to classroom surreptitiously and they can't be up to no good. Well this couldnt be me, I'm just one person. I concentrate very hard and the scene disapears and the words "Frank Shea" appear in front of me. [Someone I barely know, although I was supposed to be his godfather.] I'm looking over his drawings of an ejector device of some kind.
I make off with the books I need to study the problem and once downstairs in the main hall Anne Marie catches up with me and I whisper to her, Thanks for helping me steal the book, and she hisses back, "You're not stealing them, I checked them out for you. Remember to bring them back."
[LS] [Fell asleep while sanitizing FB with my hand on the mouse.] The mouse was barking like a little dog. I could feel its breath on my hand in little bursts.
[I have spent some time reading Frank Kepple (FranksPosts.pdf). He is the best yet. He says you just need a little relaxation and a little imagery (not much visualization) and to move the point of awareness from the physical (right behind the eyes to the non-physical) and the awareness will be released by the top of the head like a light switch.]
[Went to sleep quickly, looking up at 3rd eye per FK.]
[NLOBE--long!] [Woke up same position, scary dream] In our [real] bedroom upstairs but light not dark. [But should be dark per dream plot.] The light goes out and Jovie and I realize it's a brownout. Later I "wake up" [false awakening] and get terrified because the light is still out but I realize the refrigerator is running [still is]. I try to scream, four times, but make that keening sound, like when you can't scream [SP] because you're asleep. I am confused [dual consciousness] by looking down the [real] stairs past the [real] curtain at the top of the stairs to see who the intruder is and it's the two dogs or one of them, Ira. While I also am vaguely aware of being in the bed in sleep paralysis trying to scream. Back at the bed the other dog Lila is on the bed [not true], but so am I with a blanket on my feet same as when I went to sleep. I get back in bed...
[Long non-lucid OBE with sleep paralysis, intruder terror, old hag on bed, and dual awareness!]
[The dogs are both outside.]
[Will go back to sleep with eyes up at 3rd eye.]
[Added note July 29: As I type this I had no recollection of the above awesome SP experience happening to me. It was like reading someone else's dream journal. This demonstrates once again the value of writing AND READING a journal. Otherwise there would be no effect on the obstinate conscious mind which lies and tells us we are making no progress. If it were up to the conscious mind and its bad/selective memory, I would never develop the confidence to believe I can do this. --ed.]
I'm acting in a scene with two other people. First I am suddenly confronted by the sudden appearance of something/someone in my face, second I am briefly pursued by guys with swords. We run through it twice and I watch it as I do it and evaluate my performance later, speaking to the director (SC). I am sure that my acting was more spontaneous the first time, and that I was overacting the 2nd time, but I ponder this and wonder if maybe trying to be more demonstrative the 2nd time was OK vs. too melodramatic.
In a well lit cafeteria in Philippines I see what people are being fed and want some, but I wonder if that round flat thing is canned meat, because I don't want that. I wonder if I'm supposed to grab a plate myself or if the server will grab the plate, so both happen, which is confusing, because I already have a plate and then he hands me two more, one big and one small, so I put one down. Then he asks me something, but I can't hear, as if I'm deaf, so I tell him I can't hear him, and I tell him to just put some food on my plate.
[Wake up hearing the inner sounds--and still do almost 30 minutes later. Tried rocking, rolling, and moving eyes up. The latter seems most effective but it's too noisy around the house at 8:00 am to do anything. Still have to work on sanitizing FB today but it's OK because FK's pdf is 1187 pages long and reading it between FB functionalitiy is a great pleasure.]>
[Went out four times and each time when waking I was aware of being active in some unconscious state such as dreams or hypnagogic spisodes of some kind. Tried to memorize, but now can't remember anything.]
2016-07-09 12:45 am
[Going to bed late because the internet cafe next door was illegally open past 10 pm, and I didn't want to get pissed and attacked again, so didn't try to sleep till they left.]
[Used the new technique and I think it is powerful. At first I started thinking about how angry I could get and imagining the loudest of the internet cafe customers and what I'd like to do to him, etc., but forced myself to think of the practice and how this reality is not worth fixing, it's just a field of choices waiting to be made, it isn't really real or important, it's all an illusion and that's what really matters so I did the technique and found that when I relaxed my brain, my body relaxed very fast, and I poured it on and had an amazing experience as well as my first episode of sleep paralysis ever. (Added note: as I type this, I see that I had already forgotten my other "first" episode of sleep paralysis two days earlier. --ed.) I was sleeping on my right side for a change although I'm used to sleeping on my back with three pillows, but on my right side with only one pillow and arm kinda under my head. This used to be the norm but changed it recently to see if I would wake up "choking" if I used three pillows instead of one so saliva would pool up in a different place.]
I'm in a semi-darkened conference room with my head on the table and my arm under my head. My wife is on my left [as is true in the bed], and there are dark figures at the other chairs. Just as the meeting ends, my nephew who owns the internet cafe comes in and sits down two or three chairs down from me on my left. I get the impression he's sitting closest to the door in case a quick exit is needed. None of this is vague, it was clearly dark and I was clearly in some kind of physical stupor, but when someone said, "Will there be anything else?" I lifted my head just enough so I could talk and as I heard nervous laughter, I launched into a tirade in spite of being unable to move. I said, "Yeah! What about closing the internet cafe at 10 pm, you useless little piece of shit, before I beat the holy fuck out of you!" People start leaving and I start to fade out of the sure knowledge of the dream plot. I say, "Who are all these people?" and there's a light outside, which makes no sense. [It takes me some seconds to force myself to wake up and be able to move. I moaned about four times and finally realized I was in bed asleep and had actually felt and experienced sleep paralysis with all the symptoms--paralysis, fear, intruders, panic, strange light, etc.]
Narrator is going the long way around to tell the tale of how he came to kill "my wife's lover, to be exact." [Very vibey, going back to bed.]
I rush toward where she is on all fours and she's not there. It figures. This is a cross between a grocery store and a school. But someone tells me she's in there. OK that's better, maybe she's just busy. Then she actually pokes her head out--Ellen OH as Cwahacoy--and invites me in with her students. She calls me by my real surname.
Taran is a long tall teenager (SC--I don't see him) trying to back our long car out of a parking spot in a sloping tiny parking lot with cars on either side of it. Not very close but there. The one on the right is ROYAL BLUE [my dream cue color I'm supposed to be looking for it so it will make me lucid]. It's daytime but while we were inside it snowed and there is now a layer of slush on the asphalt. I'm outside the car testing the ground with my feet. I determine that he will probably slide into another car, and that he does. Twice. After smashing both the other cars, I go looking for the cars' owners. I encounter one, a blonde woman leading a group of people, and tell her what happened. She blows my mind by handing me two hundred dollar bills. I stand there with my mouth hanging open and finally decide this is really happening and say thanks.
[I get out of bed finally after many awakenings. Getting better at not moving when I wake up.]
[Going to bed.]
[Again something happened. Taran and Jovie haven't been getting along today and Taran has tried to make the best of it, but finally came home from church crying and let me put him to bed. I lay down by him after the usual tooth brushing etc. and set about relaxing the muscle in my head--pretend the brain is a muscle and relax it--noticed this instantly relaxes the face and the whole body. This is maybe the right amount of visualization. (Not much). Regarding internal dialog, I drew some of the shades on it but felt it best to not attempt the tension of a total shutdown. At some point, I went into a timeless reverie and was busy, but doing what? I don't know. Mind almost awake, body almost asleep? Then both feet twitched hard at the same time and I realized I had been in a very special, clear state but could not recall it in a way that can be described. Not sleepy before or after, too overstimulated for that. Had to go to town today so lots of snacks and junk food and later domestic skirmishes and more FB sterilization, which is endless.]
2016-07-10 1:05 am
The authorities have changed their minds. They now think that a stalker has recently relocated to the Fitsin area and is working from there. [Dream pun... the fits-in area is certainly a place to avoid in my experience as I would only be evicted sooner or later...]
[Over an hour ago I woke up to write this down(?) but went back to sleep (?) so memory is disjointed and I won't get all the details in the right order.]
I have a baby tree in my garden...
Walking down a city sidewalk looking for something or somebody, I am surprised to see that there's a bookstore in this area. And another one, and another one. First story, second story, used bookstores. Vivid and colorful.
[After some lengthy activity which I forgot] a vivacious young woman runs up to me. Jovie is with me (SC) and she's an old friend of Jovie, but she's not old like us. She's petite with shortish dark brown hair. Plain, slightly lumpy face, looks like a Cwahacoy of two sort of recent dreams who had reddish brown hair. This Cwahacoy is extremely bright and lively, her presence would wake up a whole building. She's wearing a plain cotton blouse, white and light green pattern, non-descript, almost a pillow case with armholes. She is enthusiastic in a way that makes me ache for as much of her as I can get, but there's no immediate hint of sexuality. Her purpose is to help us in our search for something, which becomes to find Jovie a job. A booklike stack of applications has been grabbing my attention, but the pages I keep coming back to are labeled in the upper left corner with the ciruclar logo of a large industrial concern which I feel is not relevant to our lives. The woman urges me to fill it out for Jovie anyway and as I do, I start to feel more motivated about her getting a job in a factory here in "Sacramento". So what if we have no place to live? People relocate when they get a job. They have a salary, they get a place to live. Mainly I want to never leave the presence of Cwahacoy. There is a bald, middle-aged man and I reject the notion at first that he is a certain guru. But then an outline of the guru's head appears and this man moves in and out of it, and I see that the shape of his head matches the guru's outline exactly.
[Two NLOBEs involving sudden motion of the dreambody which made my physical body twitch and wake up.]
[Reading FK I'm inspired to try tactilization regarding vortex energy focusing on 3rd eye and crown see FranksPosts.pdf p. 198. Will listen to rain sounds to block out noise.]
[That was enjoyable. I especially liked the part where I imagined my dreambody massaging my third eye. First I tried tapping but that made my eyes blink reflexively even though closed. To keep the eyes still seems important. As per FK I think it's good to change up the visualization about once per minute so the mind doesn't get rigid or bored. Also it occurred to me that when fear is cancelled, it's replaced by curiosity.]
[Added note: the following is important enough that someone thought I should be forced to type it twice. I KNOW this was saved--it's over a page of handwriting and I had stopped typing and set up a beats session so I would never fail to hit SAVE before quitting a typing session... so why did the program not save this??? So I would have to TYPE IT AGAIN which is sometimes the only time I read things since I'm always behind in typing. --ed.]
[Three times when I went to move in my bed as if to sit up or stand up, I was shocked by very unusual energetic sensations which made me think I was not in phase with the physical, but probably making large movements of the dream body. I cannot properly describe any of the three experiences, nor can I properly distinguish them from each other, except to say that each was shockingly unusual and gave me cause to celebrate some kind of success. I just don't know exactly what kind. All happened in the past few minutes with long pauses between because when I went to sit up or moved a leg or something, I got huge electrical sensations, completely unexpected and very welcome. I think this is due to the way I went to sleep, although I'm not sure I ever did go to sleep in the usual sense of the word. That is what I plan to do now. Review notes for the past few days as something is building up, I must be doing something right. Asking for assistance from my dreambodies or my guides as most people would call them...]
2016-07-14 1:00 am
"Visit to America"
Unaware that I'm not in the Philippines: daytime, rural small town, dry summer, mountainous, no sidewalks, I'm walking along a road in a rough town on a hill and ahead of me is a family of Americans getting into their car after a visit at a house on the right. I imagine what sort of hokey American thing I should say to them and suddenly I'm in the front passenger seat and they're taking me back the way I came. I tell them to drop me off in two blocks and ask where in America they live. The woman, who has big dark hair, says "Ballerina". I ask "Ballerina where?" and she gives me a strange look like I should already know that. "Tennessee" she replies.
It's night now and I walk into a bar and ask if they're serving any food. "Yeah, but I just served the last of it." It's a very small and intimate place. I sit on the left and watch people eat. "You want some french fries?" I say OK and he says, "I was talking to him--" the guy on my left. I just sit and watch everbody in the place as if it were my job to memorize their faces. They are all bigger than me, like America. [In the Philippines I feel tall for the first time in my life.] As people file out after finishing their meals, I try to work up the courage to ask someone for a couch to sleep on, but then it's too late. They're all gone. They are so big and macho, they carry themselves around with that "I belong" feeling that I've never known and can't fake without getting punished for trying.
I'm outside looking for a place to eat. It's very late and everything's deserted. I have to pee. I see a ladies' room at a car wash on the right so I look for the men's room and wonder if it's unlocked even though the business place it's attached to is closed. It's possible, as this is a small town. The walls of the place are ROYAL BLUE plastic with white letters and pictures printed into it.
I lose interest in finding a men's room when I see a terminal or depot on my right. It's open air, I'm in some sort of open air mall, but all is shut down for the night. As I approach the ticket counter in the semi-darkness, a man comes up behind me and asks if I want to get a boat. "A boat?" He gives me a look like I should know where I am. I ask, "A boat to Portland?" and I now know that I'm just south of Portland, Oregon, and a boat makes sense because there's a big river running north and south. I wonder what kind of boat he's talking about, because I'm not made out of money. I am worried because I haven't pooped in two days [true] and I imagine him telling me I'll just have to hang my butt over the edge of the boat and poop in the water.
I ask for a map to Portland and I'm willing to pay for one and would sort of prefer to, but he assumed I just want to look at one. I don't want to correct his assumption even though I'd feel handicapped traveling without a map. He's starting to get the idea that I'm not a paying customer.
Another man joins us and empties a fistful of tobacco products onto the glass counter in front of me, which tells me that they know and welcome that I am a wanderer and they want to help me. I think a pack of Bugler tobacco would be fitting since I'm a wanderer, but I imagine myself smoking all that nasty tobacco and decide it would be better to just get a couple of cigarettes to tide me over since I no longer smoke [true]. The man introduces himself, "Kim." Or did he say "Jim"? "Kim or Jim?" I ask, but he ignores my question and gives me a very firm handshake with his hairy arm conspicuous. I notice it's the second guy who's shaking my hand, not the first guy. He's a little shorter than me, white hair, button-down shirt, comes across as an old-fashioned purebred American type: talks loud, shakes hands hard, gets right to the point. A tradesman, a practical man with principles. Old-fashioned.
[I wake up but MY BODY IS STILL ASLEEP! I managed to wake up without moving, or opening my eyes, and instead of swallowing I just closed my mouth. I ignore having to pee and think about phasing. I think about needing to see. Realize that I'm actually in the phase, but since I have to pee pretty bad, I doubt I'll be able to do anything serious. But I am seriously in the phase...]
I can still see the outdoor mall I was dreaming in, so I just stand there watching images on a wall. I am running a lot of energy! [I get chills up and down my back as I write this.] I try to imagine the red chair that is my plan of action, but I still see the images on the wall, so I just focus on that. The screen of color is a big rectangle of white light projected on the wall about 12 feet in front of me, and the images are shows of random geometric shapes moving up the screen quickly from bottom to top too quickly for me to memorize any of the images, so I just keep watching. I watch for about a full minute, totally lucid, effortlessly maintaining this vision. During this whole time, I'm singing "We shall overcome" to myself and I think maybe I shouldn't do that, and waffle about that. Twice an image of myself in full photographic detail flashes on the wall for a split second, it's me, current age [which is older than I expect since I never look in mirrors anymore as per CC] sitting in a terminal depot or airport. I'm surprised how old I look. More complex images appear and I try to move into them, but I have to pee and doubt I can project. I feel my numb body and run over the details, then get up to write this down. Eating crackers and raisins so I will be able to go to sleep easily. But while I was writing this I remembered...]
earlier that night
[Chills all through my whole body... I'd forgotten this even happened till almost finished writing down the long dream above.]
I'm imagining restringing an odd old upright piano with only bass strings running straight up and down, so it's very narrow. I'm doing this in front of several people who I don't see [SC--all my dreambodies whose presence I requested]. This is accompanied by the song "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd: "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year... Running over the same old ground, have we found the same old fears... wish you were here..." [This was one of my favorite songs at one time, because it melodramatized the condition my life was in at the time and made it so romantic in a beautiful, sophisticatedly emotional way. I still love this song.]
[I wake up in the phase! [chills as I write this] I am rocking and rolling in my body, fighting tooth and nail to get out. I try to roll out backward for the most part, but nothing happens. [Realized later I should have just teleported directly to the red chair downstairs as per plan of action. I think I fell asleep at this point or possibly entered directly into the next dream which is recorded above it.]
[Turned off binaural beats, will try to sleep past 4 a.m.]
I feel something in my ear and stick my finger in and pull out something gross. Every time I look at it, it gets bigger. There is a yellow worm and then I see dead worms too. I show it to Jovie, it now includes two pieces of webby stuff over an inch long. I tell her I've shown her this stuff before. Then it has a 4-inch-long capless mushroom growing out of it, then a worm coming out of that. I set about to kill the worms but it grosses me out.
[Emphasis is mind awake body asleep... Have been asking guides for help all day.
[NLOBE] Dreambody pulls me up toward himself hard with great intensity while uttering, "Emphasis is submersify killing!!!"
[Moved journal to chair next to bed.]
[LS] In the Library of Politics, a higher shelf has been moved to the Vote for Pedro section! [Hilarious stack of dream puns--Higher Shelf--with reference to my favorite movie hero, Napoleon Dynamite.]
[LS] I'm having a dialog with self as to whether I should or should not have thrown a half-empty can of paint thinner into the fire I'm sitting next to. First I think it's OK, then I think I better skedaddle quick, then I realize it's really OK because it's just a dream. [Little Dream lucidity... this is a first, more or less.]
[LS] Aiko is walking through the garden on the path that travels along the border between the two properties carrying a huge empty papaya shell about 3 ft tall. When I see her on my right, she sets the papaya down so she can come over and ask me for permission to walk through my garden. The papaya crumples under its own weight and I'm thinking she doesn't have to do that. Then I'm thinking I'm gonna be one of those people who can escape the physical due to lack of emotionalism. A dream body goes YUK YUK YUK in a forced laugh.
A young white guy with light brown hair and short full beard has opened a business at Manggahan where I live, down a side street (looks like Kansas), but where I stand in the street in front of the house, I see he is at the intersection taking down his sign and going home.
I see that Jovie has left the car in the middle of the street instead of parking it properly. I go up to it and there are two little girls in it with the doors locked and the windows closed. I decide to try and find Jovie to tell her what she did wrong.
I'm looking in the house and Dede comes in wanting to borrow some headache tablets. I search in all the places I expect it to be. I'm looking for a BLUE plastic bottle but I can't find it anywhere. I notice Dede is making a cup of tea by heating a teacup directly on the burner flame with a piece of plastic for a lid. I think that's an odd and unsafe way to make tea. Then I'm outside in the yard searching among piles of junk when I see two children playing in or on something where I don't want them, and I go chase them off, but then here comes their father and his whole family looking insulted. I say, "Wow look a white guy!" and he responds, "Wow look, someone who hates Mexicans!" because his children have dark skin and black hair, even though the man, who is tall, has pure white skin with large red freckles and flaming red hair and beard. His elderly mother is there and she has a similar complexion. I regret how he jumped to the conclusion that my excitement at seeing another white person implied a racial slur against his brown children, but as he and his family prepare to leave, I see it's too late to inform him of his mistaken assumption. I say, "Come back if you want, and if you don't want to, then don't" [I wake up] sobbing "Jovie, Jovie..." feeling I have hurt her by being a perfectionist.
2016-07-16 4:00 am
I've got this fancy but old tabletop for a workbench and want to disassemble it into its many intricate components and then put it back together. I don't have all the tools I need to do this, so I've taken it to a mechanical shop where an extremely patient and helpful man helps me decide what tools, manuals, gizmos, etc. I will need to disassemble the pieces without damaging them. I have quite a list of things that I absolutely must have, including a fancy lip/edge to put on the front like a stair nosing, a whole handful of chisels to add to the one I brought with me, sharp-edged metal rulers to use as chisels to wedge between tightly glued pieces, entire manuals I'll buy when I only need one page out of them. The man [looks like the actor Tommy Lee Jones] humors me quietly and non-judgementally, going upstairs several times to get all these things that I think I must have.
While he's gone getting a whole fistful of cold chisels, I ascertain by knocking some old concrete moldings off the bottom of his countertop support near the floor with my own chisel that I won't be needing the chisels after all. I lean the pieces of concrete against the bottom of the table hoping he won't notice what I did. He gets back with the chisels and drops them on the table. He advises me to not remove the BLUE cloth from the underside of my tabletop because it's holding a bunch of fancy sheet metal shims in exact locations. A green and yellow manual I was going to buy is popping its binding apart from my having read the one page I needed, but now I don't need it anymore. I show him the damage and he says not to worry, he'll just return it to stock. He does all his communicating very efficiently, not actually saying much.
He returns with a very fancy steel precision measuring device which he sets down in front of me with an air of "Now there, that should make you happy." It's his but he'll let me use it. I'm trying to figure out how. Then while he's gone getting more stuff, I start pulling off the blue cloth and the oddly shaped, precision-bent shims start falling out all over the place. This tabletop is incredibly multi-faceted. He comes back and sees what I've done, doesn't say anything, and I show him a plate of heavy glass I've exposed inside the tabletop. I say, "It's even got glass inside," and he can only but nod in agreement. He has the patience of a saint and I've pretty much decided I don't need to buy any of the things I thought I was going to need. His assistant this whole time is not seen, although he's standing right there, he doesn't say or do anything (SC).
[Got up from session after 40 minutes because of episodes of waking in a panic. Here is my analysis of that:]
[First of all, after I woke up panicky and gasping for air, the first time, I then realized I was ignoring a small square or rectangular screen that showed a sepia tone (color of old photograph or old paper) simple line drawing from a very old children's book of a ship going out to sea. It was very bright and I watched it in fascination for several seconds. As my body gradually woke up, the brightness gradually faded till it was too vague and I stopped looking at it.]
[Next time I woke up choking, I received a ROTE in regards to my recent questions on OBE FB group as to whether sleep apnea was really sleep paralysis and whether sleep apnea isn't overdiagnosed (nice way of saying "scam"). Response on OBE group looked to be copied from wikipedia and scared me. The ROTE told me what I got from surveying answers to a yahoo question "is this real or is it a scam"... 80% of the answers: the sleep apnea diagnosis is a scam. Then I find a couple doctors on the net willing to say the same thing. So here's the ROTE.]
[Waking up in a panic: I realized This is what Monroe and others were talking about. Journeys Out of the Body has a long section about fear and panic. Many people experience fear and panic. I have had four sponteneous OBEs. The people having fear/panic are mostly going straight from physical to OBE--Direct method--whereas indirect method isn't scary because it's from sleep to sleep. My seeming sleep apnea is not what makes me panic. I detected today that I was afraid of leaving my body. I am starting to wake up in sleep paralysis. It isn't apnea, it's conscious sleep paralysis as I've felt all along, ever since it mysteriously started only after I started this practice.]
[And besides that, when did they even INVENT sleep apnea??? It's a modern medical scam. People don't die from it, but doctors scare the world by waiting for someone to have a heart attack while they're snoring, and then BAM! Another snoring-related death. I remember when this crap started oozing out of late night radio adfomercials. It's as bogus as all the other new diseases and disorders being invented to make money through intimidation. Invented the same day as the CPAP machine was invented. Oh, and guess what: "Sleep apnea awareness day" is April 18--my birthday! Hahahahaha....]
2016-07-17 3:15 am
[...Woke up from the following dream because I didn't like the people I was with. Found I was in vibration and planned to return to sleep with mask, but Taran woke up when I moved, so I got up to write this instead.]
Transient or homeless...
2016-07-18 5:35 am
I'm driving lost on freeway ramps looking at signs trying to find a certain place and not sure what it is. "Freeway Ramp City." I get stuck on a bus that gets stuck on a drawbridge that is being serviced or undergoing major road construction. The driver SC announces via telepathy that we are likely to be stuck in this exact place for an indefinite length of time, which I take to mean several days. The condition of the road is nearly vertical. This somehow doesn't translate to physical verticality, but to a ceaseless sense of dread as if I might be driven mad by it. I take things into my own hands by getting out of there, and I'm greatly relieved to find I am not compelled to do what people tell me to do.
At twilight in a large parklike setting on a long straight ridge about 25 feet higher than the surrounding park running on a trail with the original Max and Lila [my dogs who I left behind in America]. They're on leashes and there's tall grass on the trail which runs next to the steep incline down to the main part of the park. The grass to my right is too tall to walk in, so the trail is marked only by the height of the grass being only a foot or two tall. It's getting darker and darker so I cannot see very well, but somehow I'm guided by my own momentum or willingness to keep running, as if running puts the trail under my feet. A young woman SC [mentally assumed to be Christi the blonde girl who worked at the health food store next to the Postal Center] is narrating from an unseen picnic table and unseen group of people down in the main area of the park. Someone, also a woman, remarks that I appear to be on acid, the way I can run in the dark. This is a wedding party for my new family, but my bride hasn't shown up yet. We are running to our new home. We arrive and it's much easier to see. It's a clear spot in the weeds behind (to the right of) the trail where a small road leads to and then turns and goes deeper into the foliated top of the hill area. Our new home is a crook in the road. I dither about what to do with Max and Lila, whether they need to stay on their leashes or not. I am led to think it's not necessary.
2016-07-19 2:45 pm
[I was awoken by panic again, but quickly remembered to ask myself if I was choking or not, and I was not. This is some kind of internal conflict--a pulling both ways--and I am sure it is the panic felt by people in conscious sleep paralysis, but with me I just get through it in a split second while some people get stuck in it. Problem is--people who do get stuck in it are at the gateway to OBE and it is that which I am quickly running past, i.e. avoiding.]
[Had some more of those awakenings, but not very rough today--the panic or whatever it is, is not too bad--still get out of it by reflexively taking several deep fast breaths. I am now feeling this as an experience of going over a hump--like a detent--it's a different setting on one side or the other, and the transition is rough. Also today I remembered the binaural beats as a pseudo memory of an energetic wave, rush, or FLUTTER at that frequency (3.5-4 hz) that I've felt when being drawn under by the suction of sleep. Also when I first lay down I recalled having long and detailed hypnagogic experiences last night which I forgot, because I forgot everything when I listened to the voice of idiossification and didn't get up to record some sketchy dreams I had.]
[Lying down to listen to rain sounds file. I think I'm making some momentum and also regarding the experience just completed, I came up with a new term: Reality Apnea. This is the moment of panic when clicking from physical to non-physical, a point at which some people get stuck (conscious sleep paralysis) while others get a feeling of a racing heart and others think they can't breathe (sleep apnea). I am making a huge breakthrough here which will change my life. Reality Apnea means "transient choking off of one's accustomed reality via a physical process or sensation".]
[Rainfall sounds seemed too loud at first, but I didn't change it. Used the "brain is a muscle so just relax it" visualization and the ball in center of head adjustment. Took a long time but got there. Tongue cloven to roof of mouth stops the swallow reflex.]
[LS1] I was moving my right hand around in a circular motion when the middle finger of my left hand twitched and I realized neither was my physical hand. Neon blue body outline as usual.
[LS2] "Continuing on to say, 'I WISH...'" [The word "wish" woke me up.]
[Above LS1 was a real phantom wiggle--first in a long time.]
[Internet next door is noisy so will read JZ instead of going to bed right now.]
[Only got two hours of sleep, I was attacked by bro-in-law again last night at 11:15 pm, lost two teeth.
[Easily went out and woke up several times with the fast breathing, but not as much panic, and only one time choking or coughing a little, but due to having a tooth pulled today, there are extra fluids in my mouth. One time I woke when I first saw a hand reaching for me, then upon noticing it, my right hand twitched strongly and then my left. Phantom twitches or hypnagogic twitches, not physical twitches, but the kind you feel when your two bodies re-engage.]
[Not fighting sleep but I think more tired that that. For example, a kind of tiny tapping or throbbing in my lower lip. Although injury could account for that. Anyway, I'm going to bed now. Hope my dream bodies will wake me up in a good dream. Almost vibrating now--exhausted beyond beyond.]
[Slept hard all night, very tired, remembered no dreams.]
[Strongly feeling suction of sleep so in spite of having a full cup of coffee yet to drink, I'll lie down with mask and rain sounds to do a long-procrastinated breathing session. I am going to miss that coffee, but will still drink it later when it's cold.]
[Got up to pee. Many awakenings. Many hypnagogic twitches. Slept a lot. Slight headache, not from loud rainsounds but from having my face torn up and taking too many kinds of medicine and not getting enough exercise and too much screen time.]
[Reading FK--note to self--look for 3D blackness: moving shadows, swirling colors, astral either 1) on screen or 2) step into.]
I find myself in the presence of Cwahacoy, ecstatic and trying to contain my anticipation of hoped-for union. She's a young woman, blonde, slightly chunky. Wearing light pastel-colored old T-shirt and jeans. My type of funky/casual. I really dig this chick and can't believe my luck that she seems to have taken an interest in me.
We're in a small funky studio apartment or rented room, fairly bright, cluttered and interesting, artsy and clunky vs. feminine or delicate. She's friendly, serious, slightly aloof vs. throwing herself at me or putting herself on display. She shows me a tiny bong she's made and tells me how many of them she's made (lots) and intends to paint or glaze. She hands me a white leather-bound blank book [I made this book many years ago and gave it to a friend] and asks me to put all my contact info in it on a blank page. She gives me her phone number and with growing excitement I become confused about whether/where to write it, or just try to memorize it, and as an act of desperation because I recognize the confusion as a threat of some kind, I write the number in the book amongst my own extensive contact info.
I am aware that she might be waiting for me to make the first/next move. Then I realize I can't remember how we met, so I ask her, hoping she doesn't feel slighted, and she gives me a certain look and it all comes back to me [or I conveniently create the memory] how I saw her in a place of business and she sang a song right there in public. With growing excitement I tell her I remember how we met and I start to relate to her how I fell in love with her at first sight, when I saw her in a store or place of business just spontaneously break into song and keep singing all the way to the end of the song.
She seems to want me to calm down, and changes the subject. She shows me something on the wall by the door of the place, which is closed. I can't quite see it, so she gives me that certain look and I focus my attention again, and there on the wall are two small handles and I "remember" oh yeah, those are for hanging from with your hands. [This is what I'm supposed to be visualizing above my bed on the ceiling as part of my OBE induction/visualization, but keep forgetting to try.] I say, "Bitay!" as a way of suggesting she use the Visayan word for "hang". Then she wants to show me something else. The door has turned from a normal-sized door into a big roll-up garage door [like many open-air stores have as a front wall here in the Philippines]. I see something large and bright red outside. I assume it's a car.
[I move my physical body and wake up. I realize: Oh it's the red chair downstairs, my plan of action starts with the red chair. But I miss her so much, I want to go back to the dream. Yet I know I must forget the dream plot and try to leave my body. I remember how interesting this is to me and how hard I work on it when I'm awake. I feel the buzzy state I'm in and try to think about the red chair, but...]
Back in the room with two young men, one of whom I never quite see (SC). Same funky place, same funky people. Just more of them and changed gender. [The one I talk to reminds me of the young man in the youtube video about breathing that I recommended yesterday on my blog/forum]. He asks me an unintelligible question with the word "bass" in it and I realize he asked me if I can play the bass guitar. They want me to play bass in their band. I never have, but why not try, they seem to be stuck on me for some reason and I'm enjoying the attention. I indicate my interest in doing it, and in fact I realize I'm so interested in being an accepted part of their group that I'm planning to ask them to let me be a groupie even if I don't pass the audition as a bassist.
I have a guitar on my lap so I play around with the four bass strings almost at random. I realize I should demonstrate the mode scales I still remember, if any, and then I want to actually play something I'm fairly good at, so I start playing ragtime songs starting with "Hesitation Blues" and ending with "Spirit of Joplin" [which is still running through my head three hours later. The dream was stopped by the alarm clock.]
In a funky living room I'm having a hard time with whatever I'm doing because there's not enough light, so I go over to a window in the middle of the long room and start pulling on the cord that should open the drapes. Instantly a middle-aged housewife comes over and takes the whole curtain rod down, which annoys me, but she explains that the cord doesn't work because it's not properly threaded through the rod mechanism thing.
I go over to the map and phone I'm trying to use to call the bus depot to figure out when I need to get going and get ready for my departure. I'm thinking since it's close to 8:30 a.m. I might need to leave soon, because where I'm going isn't that popular of a place and the schedule running there might be only once a day. Actually it's just a transfer point to places beyond there to the south. I think about the option of getting off the bus at a larger city and having more options that way. I try dialing the phone to ask questions, but not sure I know which questions to ask, then I realize I also don't know the right number, though I was dialing a number starting with 246-. Trying to find the number on the bus schedule map in front of me. I get confused and wake up.
[Will listen to rainfall sounds and try for several awakenings.]
[Counting backwards "300-dream-299-dream-298-dream..." while climbing stairs--lost and confused long before 250. Had promised myself that I would literally get out of bed, walk to my desk, and write down every single experience, then go back, put on the headphones, put on the mask, and go back to work. So here it is, and it's good:]
[NLOBE1] Two annoying yuppies with haircuts and glasses are grinning right up in my face saying, "Where ya goin'? Where ya goin'?" I lean back to get away from them [and then realize I had leaned back out of the physical!]
[NLOBE2] "If you can't find a 56 or a 57..."
[NLOBE3] A big brown dog in our kitchen downstairs but, it's bright, should be dark, and wrong dog, hey wrong wife too. "52 or indictment somehow".
[NLOBE4] [Exactly upon counting down to zero:] A chunky blond man with curly hair and glasses tears a portion of my visual screen out like a piece of paper. Wads it up and tosses it away. Where the portion was removed there remains deep black void. [Added note: see photo of Frank Kepple, which I'd never seen at this time. ESP DREAMLET!--ed.] [Starting over at 300.]
7:08 pm @ #255
[Stray energy--vague/spontaneous flashes of partial hypnagogic images--not the kind you look for, but spontaneous--not asleep--then words:] "Down, down, down!"
[Awesome session, this is my new method. Getting up each time is good because it 1) prevents sleep and 2) forces you to relax all over again, but you notice quickly if you do it wrong or fail to focus because it's a waste of time and energy if you don't pay attention. I love this method.]
[Also I like a looping sound file because you forget about time. If I know the file will end at some point, sometimes I just sit there and wait for it to end if I think it's going to be in less than ten minutes. I go through this a lot since I have a lot of awakenings.]
2016-07-24 3:45 am
[Got out of bed sometime ago to wake back to bed, but lay down on the extra bed and fell asleep instead. Following dream is about the attack of July 19. Not the attack itself, but about trying to prevent its effect on the practice.]
I'm driving a woman and two little boys in an old beige sedan, big car. We're not driving, but sitting waiting for an evil man to come down the mountain and attack us. We're waiting in the parked car for him to come down the mountain and attack us. There are no roads or other cars here, just a barren large area of dry fine dirt and a barren steep ugly mountain that the man has gone up on foot. Bright day, almost no vegetation, just dead grass. We decide we have to stuff slivers of bamboo in the door lock knob posts to keep the man from pulling up on them and getting in the car. I move the car so it's perpendicular to the rise of the hill, so it can't be rolled backward. We see the man walking down the steep dusty mountain and [now I'm alone] I point toward him, hoping to hit him with the car and squash him. He's a regular guy in a ratty white T-shirt.
Then I'm in a big concrete castle which they occupy (he's become several bad guys). They taunt me by becoming illusional. I can see them but can't touch them. The one with the big black moustache has a machete, and as he walks past me down the stairs, I try to grab it with my hand, but my hand goes right through it.
The other guy is asleep in another very large bright empty room. I have got a good idea that gives me hope, which is to steal all their notices from the post office so that they can't pick up their packages. There are green ones and white ones. I have one already which I crumple up and stuff in my pocket. Looking into the man's room, I can see where he keeps the others, and I hope to get in and take them without waking him up. I am scared.
Someone has wired the toilet to the heart and taken the liberty of cutting the waste pipes out to use as a toy. Arman has been hired to remedy this situation and I am afraid he will do it all backwards and ugly.
[Quit this one early. I had one LS with words "Looking for a radio station," then slept hard...]
Driving daytime in Salina with Sunny (SC) in passenger seat. I realize and say, "This car has no brakes, no brakes at all."
I'm heading to work at the Postal Center after lunch. I take a sudden left and with the Library on my right, I show Sunny how to stop a car with no brakes by rubbing the tires along the curb. The curb cooperates by getting taller and taller until, by the time I have the car stopped, the curb is over a foot tall. I keep up a patter the whole time--when I turn left I say, "I'm gonna take a left here," when I get the car stopped, "and that's how you stop a car with no brakes." We get out and look at the tires. They are cooperatively sitting separate from the car as if the car separated itself and jumped over behind the tires. I tell her we'll have to put them inside the car so they can't get stolen. "Now which are the two new ones I just bought?" They're small and fat and soft like balloons, no rims, not realistic. One is starting to lean over so I straighten it. I will be late to work and I will have to have the car towed.
[This continual patter reminds me of Brian Slartsani's "mindfulness" and Bruce Moen's Perceiver and Interpreter taking turns = Knowing. Reread Brian S. Also FK doesn't stress totally shutting down the internal dialog.]
[That was intense. I woke up in reality apnea once breathing hard and purposely stopped midbreath and went back under. Then I was seemingly in reality apnea continuously for the next 20-25 minutes??? That's how it seemed, though hard to tell because I was asleep, but as I felt it, I was more or less fighting reality apnea without waking up the whole time. I think I'll try again later, especially if I get suction of sleep again. Will eat lunch now, type dream journal and drink coffee.]
[Going to bed. Remember not to move or open eyes when waking. Try to roll back and forth gently when waking up from a dream in the vibrations. This should get rolling started.]
Daytime. My dad (SC) accompanies me into a diner that serves certain kinds of seafood and then he disappears. I consider this a sort of test of my ability to eat things I would never consider putting in my mouth under any circumstances whatsoever, just because other people like that kind of food, but I don't eat slimy things especially if from a shell or the sea, this is just too buglike. First the waitress brings me some sort of grayish green objects that, when torn apart with the fingers, turn out to be made from masses of large many-legged lime-green spidery things clumped together. I manage to eat several of these things until I start to thinking--"But they're alive"--and then I set them aside. The waitress then brings me these balls of what look like soft ricelike pasta but each kernel is actually a sea creature of some kind. This is a little easier. Details forgot. Finally there's a large version of the kernels about the size of an egg.
In the end I have to wonder if these things might actually be toxic as I watch a close-up scene of Charmello my big white dog swim down into a teacup full of ocean water and seaweeds and then proceed to become poisoned by something he encounters in the water.
The diner is L-shaped and there's a sequence in the back room, but forgotten.
In a park I'm asked to play for a sing-along, but I don't know any sing-along songs as I only play solo guitar for my own entertainment, but I go along with it and suggest Blues in E. I'm surprised everybody thinks this is a great idea, but I don't think I even remember the 12-bar chord pattern and I didn't know it had any words, since it's not a song as such but a common chord series for musicians to structure a jam session around. I start playing it and all the people enthusistically start singing the words, so this encourages me and I just add the chords that I think might be right. Happily they seem to lose interest in singing after that.
Then an old bluesman is brought to meet me. He is blind and he is lying down on the floor which is odd, I think. He's the prototypical black blind blues player wearing a hat and a colorful knitted sweater. I greet him by massaging his chest with my foot (like JZ's guide did to wake up his heart chakra the first time they met in a conscious OBE).
[These two dreams are packed with conscious content and/or lucidity cues. I have a plan of action which is to re-experience the presence of Stumped-No-More who was a blind fiddler lying on his back... get it? Of course I know that sixness is the heart chakra and so is the worshipful experience (which is not an emotion) I had listening to his music, same as when I meet Cwahacoy.]
[Will try to do 300 pullups while going to sleep. Have to remember to Not Move when waking and to Do the indirect technique since it has worked for me twice before. Cycle through rubbing hands, phantom wiggle, seeing images, but first try to teleport directly to red chair. Wake up more often instead of once in the night. Get up to write down all dreams.]
[Abstract dream from previous awakening which I vaguely still recall:]
From the shallow pan of water to another, a thought is transferred. Through a series of such actions, ripples remain in many shallow pans of water because of one thought. [About meditation--ripples free--vs. generating karma via thought--the 2nd sentence is an attempt to remember the point behind the first sentence since I didn't get up and write it down soon enough.]
2016-07-27 around midnight
Living with my parents. At night I'm going downstairs for some reason knowing my mom is down there alone. When I get to the spare bedroom that's down there, which is big and plush and has its own bathroom, I hear her in the shower. On the bed I see a book she's left for my dad to see. It's about sex and it's obvious she left it for him as a hint. I briefly get a flash of my parents trying to have sex and suddenly jump into the air about 12 feet and come down landing on my feet, lucid, with vibrations running through my body which originate in the base of my spine. Since I know I'm in my bed in the phase, at first I congratulate myself at being in the phase, and then I see I need to exit, so in confusion I try to remember how to cycle through techniques. I think about the red chair I've been planning to go to, touching it, but it's too small and doesn't seem real. I briefly try rocking back and forth in my body, but I do not generate the needed intent and decide to get out of bed and write all this down instead [which I also fail to do, since I then go back to sleep.]
I'm outside in the back yard in a farm area American style with shed, clothesline, etc. I think I notice and hear some movement in the grass and sure enough it's a SNAKE [Kundalini must be acting up, see also previous dream]. I have a hard time shouting "Snake! Snake!" [SP] and no one comes, so I take a chance on losing the snake and run into the shed to get a weapon. I come out with a metal pan lid, BLUE color [I'm supposed to be looking for blue in my dreams], imagine trying to slice the snake with its dull edge, and go back for a machete. I run out in the yard with my machete and afraid I've lost the snake, but at the back edge of the yard I see it, and reflexively throw my machete at it underhanded, knowing dully that the machete is also a snake. It is longer than a machete so it bumps the ground as my arm goes around the bottom of its arc and therefore the machete/snake lands short of the big snake on the ground. There are now two snakes, wide and flat, and the 2nd one is only about 30" long but the first one is five feet long. [I wake up.]
[Obviously close to something of a Kundalini and/or sleep paralysis experience. Before I went to sleep I rubbed my hands together vigorously and slapped the mattress with my hands to remind me to cycle through techniques upon awakening and in fact the first dream which became lucid, I did wake slow enough to where I didn't move my body, although it was hard to focus on techniques because I got excited.]
[Back to bed. Remember to wake again in 90 minutes and move to the other bed. No school in a.m. so might get to do something.]
Being a security guard must be an odious task (dream forgotten).
[Moving to extra bed with mask.]
[A long series of mostly undescribable dreams full of vivid, crisp images and weird abstract plots. Disjointed, but will try to describe. Hint: this is all about fear of immigration and what they can do to me if diabolical people want to hurt me. Since one person has twice threatened to report me to immigration basically for no reason, I have fears about it that are pretty much groundless, and today's the day I go there--before getting false teeth--I'm actually stressing about whether they might look me in the mouth like a gift horse? Fear rules this amazing dream...]
Highland Drive, Glenwood Springs, a long U-shaped road that goes straight up from Main up a very steep hill, turns, goes a couple blocks, and then straight back down to Main St. again. Bruce Willis is visiting my family and is drivng the huge bus, carefully, turning to go down that very steep hill. My parents are SC.
That forgotten, my good friend Bruce and I are leaning back to back commenting about the utterly ridiculous sky traffic. Aristocratic Americans have taken to bringing their cars on airliner flights, and the tendency is for each airliner to have a car strapped to the top of it behind the cockpit. I can't get over how ridiculous and spoiled Americans are. The sky is crawling with airplanes laden down with cars strapped to their backs.
Which reminds me of Bruce's secret past, when he and his brown-skinned partner were shipping exotic weapons that way. I tease him about their penchant for "weapons of mass destruction" which makes him pensive. He opens the fat letter I have received for him and it's a sickeningly sophisticated blackmail threat, obviously from the CIA or something of that ilk, but even blacker. Each page of the letter contains a large color illustration full of the kind of pure evil images that this secret black ops agency is threatening to go public with. Bruce's election ambitions are being dashed to pieces in front of my eyes.
In a building where three or four groups of young people have been called together on account of the evil that's going on. The discrete and politically incompatible groups are separated by some space on the carpet and maybe temporary partitions, sitting on the floor in neat rows and columns.
Then it seems all hell had broken loose--one group threw all their beautiful quartz crystals and big pieces of polished rose quartz at the other group and they've all gone somewhere. Well me and Mr. Murray know what to do about that: we're gonna gather up all the gemstones and keep them. I'm busy scooping up nicely pointed crystals and big globs of rose quartz and hide them in an upper cupboard in the next room where they become food.
As I'm leaving this room, Mrs. Murray appears, almost blocking the doorway, but stark naked. I turn my face away and squeeze out past her, imagining that she'd had an angry look as if I wasn't supposed to be there when she suddenly appeared with no clothes on for no reason...]
In a rich person's house where we are visiting--Zimmerman house--everything is plush and brown. My companions are at a dining room table and I'm wandering the dining room looking for something to complain about. There is a tall yarn picture on the wall, about two feet wide by five feet tall, of a teenage Jackie Kennedy and I notice it is in perfect condition. I mention to my friends that this thing, decades old, has not a blemish on it, because rich people don't actually do anything in their house. Then I decide I must have ice cream, and I'm going to find some and take it from the rich people if it's the last thing I do. I start going through refrigerators. I go out into a sort of concrete alleyway between the house and a servant's house, which is a family that is just leaving. We have some sort of interaction. I count six, then seven refrigerators. I say, "I could not afford to pay for the electricity these refrigerators use, much less pay for the refrigerators themselves."
I find some almond-flavored ice cream in one freezer and in the process of trying to grab the box, I clumsily knock over some open containers of fish and blueberries, so I pick up the blueberries that spilled and put them back in the shallow dishes scattered through the freezer that also contain dried fish.
[While reading FK or listening to a Tom Campbell video, one of them mentioned some certain state and I spontaneously recalled what my hypnagogic session had been like earlier today when I lay down to listen to beats. The images were very spontaneous. The whole visual field was covered with a pattern like welded iron with crude repeated curlicues etc. But right in front of me, just one of these patterns framed a full color scene, too small for me to discern. I noticed at this point that if I tried hard to look at this small color screen, it would disappear, whereas if I maintained a loose, unfocused, relaxed awareness of it, it would come back into view. That's all I remember. It went on like this for a minute or so and I think I went more asleep from there, just below the threshold of sleep.]
Rich people's house again. [Vivid dream, but about three hours ago or more, so lost many details by now.] These people already had an old oak upright piano but now they've gone out and bought another. Unfortunately they didn't have the piano professionally evaluated before they bought it and it is an antique type piano and will never be a modern musical instrument. It also needs a new pin block and the plate is creacked. I explain all this to the owner, showing him that the soundboard isn't even attached to the back frame anymore, because the glue has turned to dust. I leave the room for a minute and when I come back I'm horrified to see that the owner and his friend have started taking it apart. I shout No No NO "You have to do it in the right order!" They've already cut all the strings and are unscrewing the plate without removing the string tension. "You have to measure the strings first." I tell them they should hire someone else because I'm not a real piano technician [and wake up in an acutely hypnagogic state able to place the spiral on the screen as a crisp, clear, rotating image, over and over, in living color, but not able to move into it.]
In the park with various children members of Jovie's family including Bbt. We are playing a computer game on her laptop. Everyone except the two of us runs off to do something not far away. Bbt starts slowly stroking my hand with the tips of her fingers and I burst out sobbing, releasing deep pent-up emotion. The children head back our way and I dry my face so they won't see. [Regarding the attack. Bbt was the only one who obviously knew where I was coming from. She was taking notes while I talked about it...]
I recall seeing a variety of young women as if flipping through a catalog of images. A certain one stands out, sort of chunky with long dark reddish-brown hair with clunky gurls in it, wearing a college uniform. (Here in the Phils, college students have to wear uniforms.) Then I'm going somewhere, bright daylight, somehow conveying a woman who is in a supine position (lying on her back) about 4-1/2 feet above the sidewalk. What I'm doing to convey her along involves moving my right hand to and fro, toward and away from me in a horizontal plane, in such a way that on each motion of my hand, I brush her shirt. I'm trying to see her face to determine if it's the same one I saw before, and I think it is, but I can't tell. Then I do see her face when she looks me straight in the eye with a serious expression, which is confusing, because it's the same person, but now slim and pretty with short straight hair.
We are now walking together with my hands glommed onto her so intently that I am sweating. I verbally express my gratitude to her for letting me "touch you like this" but wonder if I am just being an old lecher. I decide I am not a lecher. We like each other and she needs to get some time away from her mother. One hand is on her waist and one on her shoulder. I am extremely aware of the heat where our bodies are touching.
We decide to go back before her mother misses her. We turn around. I look at a big rectangular blond brick building to the left of the sidewalk set back past a short expanse of lawn. We pass that with a familiar feeling and turn into a small playground, an extension of the park which will lead back to where we need to go. First we play on a swing or somebody does--this in unclear because the girl is now a one-year old baby and/or has a little sister with her. Anyway I see a metal tractor seat has been made into a swing and hung 4-1/2 feet in the air, so we go to put the baby in the swing for awhile before we take her home to her mother.
[This is Cwahacoy... There seems to be a clear message about the throat chakra since my throat is 4-1/2 feet off the ground.]
[Jovie wants to use the computer so I will lay down without beats to attempt some awakenings. Raining hard, not hot. Have to put on a shirt. Drank full caffeine coffee 1 to 2 hours ago. Not sleepy. But I think I can do something. Just read first 1.5 chapters of BM's first book. Added note: After I read Bruce Moen's books, the practice devolved into psychobabble and I will be deleting a lot of stuff regarding "self soul retrieval". Nothing inherently wrong with it but it was a distraction from the skill I was trying to learn. I still had some lucid dreams. Bruce is a good teacher and it's not his fault I went off on a tangent. --ed.]
[That lasted about 30 minutes; then someone started bouncing a basketball against the house and I (or caffeine) decided the session was over. But I did get to the threshold of sleep, gently and comfortably, after first going through some intensive facing up to the swallowing reflex. Trying to see how long I could go, forcing myself to imagine saliva trickling down my throat while doing nothing about it, etc. I did beat the urge to get up and pee, way back in January, so I should be able to whip other physical urges too.]
[HAD TO get up and write this down: I clearly and distinctly heard these exact words:] "You have a little alarm clock in your hands. Now for the next 40 minutes, you have to learn how to work this alarm clock."
[Again had to get up and write these words:] "Lila has so many things she wants to say to you," and then am awoken by a SHARP plunge of my right astral hand from RB's vertical position to the mattress [a hand position I never use, but tried a few times a few months ago. My dog Lila is sleeping directly below me under my bed. I had taken my time going back to sleep after first awakening--tried propping my hands up against each other in a V over my stomach--but too annoying so put them down and focused on relaxing and shutting off self-talk]
2016-07-30 7:15 am
"Sharing the Same Intent"
The crisp cold feeling of wet winter, but without the cold. Out back, someone (SC) has got an inflatable riding toy the shape of a modern train, but small, on the flat concrete slab behind the building. It works on the principle of air hockey except instead of sliding on a thin layer of air, it hydroplanes on a layer of water that oozes out of the concrete wherever it's needed. The idea is for two people to straddle separate vehicles and the game is that they will interact in some way, sliding around on the basketball court controlled by the riders' intent.
Then the concrete area has become very small somehow, and half covered by a pile of gravel, so that there's only enough room for the vehicles to sit, they have nowhere to go. I ask SC [who I never see] what good that's supposed to be, how can we play on them now?
Then I'm over to the right of our living quarters--the original building--and one or two other small dorm houses are in front of the now large concrete area. I see with disappointment that the people in these other houses--young males--are also using the flat area for their hydroplane vehicles, so I imagine how hard it might be to share the space with these strangers from the other houses.
SC walks up to me as me--but I don't recognize him, mistaking him for a well-known actor who I can't place--and stops, facing me. He says nothing, has a serious, intent look on his face. Looking directly at me, he makes a slight motion of his head, a very slight downward nod towards me, and I somehow think he intends for me to take off all my clothes. I take off all my clothes like an automaton, and he smirks conspicuously, non-verbally sending me the message, "See how easily you are controlled by the whim of others?"
Now how will I get home naked? I have no choice but to walk across the whole length of the concrete area past dozens of young men, controlling the mental tendency to be embarrassed so that being naked barely affects me. I wrap myself in a towel and go to the front of the house to watch "the actor" walk away to see if he's gloating about his power over me. He does in fact walk away across the area in front of the row of three small low wooden dorm houses. He has a brown plaid scarf around his neck which he is feeling the ends of with his fingers, and he looks kind of flashy/androgynous. I feel that he does seem to have the bearing of a self-satisfied celebrity, but not to any extreme. I wonder if what he did to me with his personal power was really so vicious an assault.
At that moment, an elderly white-haired woman approaches me. [Added note: My grandma Amelia who I didn't recognize when in the dream, but she became one of my guides at this point, though never again appearing as an old woman. --ed.] She is the principal of this institution and I think of her as a nun. I'm sure she is going to chastise me for walking around naked, but when our eyes meet, I realize she saw the whole encounter [with the other me] and she says, "It was all a misunderstanding though, wasn't it?" and all my fears dissolve in her wisdom and understanding.
Then I enter the dorm--it's one long dark room--it's dark inside and outside, lit up to a beautiful brownish gray by moonlight filtering through heavy billowy clouds in a still sky. The clouds hold the promise of a tempest. There are couches along the wall and a recliner conspicuously in the middle of the room, all occupied by quiet people with no features noticable except their still minds. The energy in the room is so thick I feel like I'm walking through the clouds I can see outside through the picture windows in the long back wall. At some point I enter a state of timelessness, but I can't say when.
The man on the recliner, whose face I don't actually see in the dark, I recognize as my dead musician friend Kris S who helped me so much in the past. I walk past him where the recliner is in the middle of the room, and all the other anonymous meditators sitting on chairs and couches lining the walls. I go outside and stare into the gray cloudy sky. A song that I am receiving somehow--I get the idea that Kris and I have to practice that song together. I know he'll like the idea. Four lines of the song appear written on the clouds in big letters, and I hear the lines being sung by a popular artist with a gravelly voice [actually by Kris' gravelly voice which I didn't recognize at the time]. After a crescendo of piano chords building up to it, I hear these words being sung: "I am only dreaming... My life is on the road..." and I start sobbing which wakes me up.
[Throbbing with energy of the dream state. Kris had died in his early 50s exactly one month before my son was born...]
[At some point which neither my wife or I can pinpoint in real time, I had woken in the middle of the night, woke her up, and told her that my friend Kris had just visited me in his sleep and told me he was dead. Then we went back to sleep and neither of us remembered that this happened until I got the email that he'd died.]
[After writing tonight's dream down, I then remembered more of the dream. The part inside the dark dorm took place in a timeless state so it's hard to say where this fits in:]
I know that the song was written by Cat Stevens and this revelation mirrors the feeling I got when I first learned that Cat wrote "The first cut is the deepest" and this is what makes me think of Kris, because our experience together was that kind of bittersweet close friendship/companionship cemented by barely-but-intensely overlapping interests and fraught with conflicting personality traits. All this and more came to me at once, mirrored by the lines of the song. [This song ran through my head for hours, I could have written down every note, but instead I obsessively searched on youtube for the melody it had stolen and couldn't find it. By the time I tore myself away from that, I had forgotten the melody of the song. I was quite certain, when I turned to youtube, that the words of the original song whose melody the dream song had used were "I will always love you." After sifting through several non fits that contained these words, I could no longer remember the melody from the dream because I hadn't written it down.]
[Added note: Thank goodness for dream journals. I had literally forgotten almost every dream in this document, including the above BIG dream, until I went back to type it all up. At this point it might be instructive to repeat what I had written in my journal just as I was going to bed: "[Going to bed after reading 2/3 of BM's first book. I am ready to meet my guides now.]" Ha! BM's book is all about retrieving the spirits of the dead, and both the dreams I recorded that night were about dead friends. And two guides appeared in the dream, one looked like me and the other looked like my grandmother. Then a very emotional, melodramatic song was heard AND written in the sky, with the words "I am only dreaming..." I mean, come on already! I had NO EXCUSE to not become lucid in this dream! Anyway, thank goodness for dream journals. I am grateful for this dream. --ed.]
[Solid workout. Got the self-talk stopped--had a hypnagogic twitch--remembered to keep a loose grip--not death grip--on the mind, hoping it would remain active--thought about how the tongue moves when we talk to ourselves (my theory to check out) so keeping some tension on the tongue, e.g. in contact with the roof and floor of the mouth to some degree instead of letting the mouth hang open--as per CC--should help keep the mind awake when we go to sleep as well as cancel out the swallowing reflex by distracting awareness to the tension in the tongue. Had one instance of reality apnea--noticed the sensation of a rapid heartbeat or slight panic as if waking up asking myself if I was choking, can I breathe? Then had to pee after 50 minutes, so lay back down telling myself "he who succeeds is not he who fails to try" and kept trying to go back under.
[Reading BM vol 1 p. 75-80, Eureka. BM says you perceive it then you interpret it. At first you do one then the other, missing a little perception to get a little interpretation, and vice versa, but then repeating this routine in faster and faster cycles till you're getting something more like the whole story. This is I hope what will allow me to get from just above sleep to just below sleep without losing awareness.]
[Another thing about BM is that I have a distinct memory which I can't place of consistently finding myself listening to a babble of voices while laying in bed. For some reason I think this was a time during my childhood that was nightmarish and/or delirious, probably involving how I overcame hours of insomnia and finally forced myself to sleep. BM talks about these voices too. He can listen to pink noise and pick voices, singing, choruses with specific voices, etc. out of the noise. I would love to remember when this happened to me and I know it isn't my imagination. This memory has been coming to me more and more often the past few months and I intend to track it down. The Babble.]
[Getting back to the balance that leads to knowing. Which is BM's wording for balancing the perceiver and the interpreter to get to MABA. Try to remember that to create any world, 3ness has to be engaged. Associations, connections, attachments, agreements. You can't just ditch 3ness or there is no memory of anything. All the awareness in the world won't leave a memory in "mind" to cling to or describe. So it's literally necessary to keep the internal dialog awake and alive the right amount as you get to the 3D blackness.]
[Also BM experienced the perceiver and interpreter as separate persons or entities somehow. Yep. The body of threeness is the mindbody, the interpreter, the associater, the identifier, the memory. This is where my existing dogma of balancing the various dreambodies/guides/higher selves with each other (for example instead of letting 4ness or time/order/sense/reason dominate too much) starts to turn into real techniques.]
[People have to stop saying that hypnagogic images are random stray energy. That's exactly where we go wrong. By creating a whole PhD program of great difficulty called "Beyond Hypnagogia is the Out of Body State", we have shut down the short path and made this stuff supremely difficult for nearly everybody.]
2016-08-02 4:35 am
At a special place that exists for the purpose of what I'm doing there, and outside a vaguely recalled building, I start exploring in these soft rocky ridges on otherwise flat ground looking for rocks or just looking. These ridges seem to be made of compressed sand. They extend into a large tunnel or cavern and between each section of this cavernous tunnel is a plain wooden door painted brick red. Eventually I find something interesting, small outcroppings of various colored mica including bright yellow and silver.
[Forced myself to get up and write this down. I experienced a lapse of consciousness which I felt and saw. It was a short and sweet instance of the suction of sleep pulling me right out. This is seen as] a blank period on a timeline of a specific length, say half the length of the red bicycle I then mounted and rode away on. Then after about 1 bicycle length on this horizontal timeline in the 3D darkness, something pulled me back [and the voice of idiossification started lying to me, telling me not to get up. "You'll remember later..." The usual lie. This timeline was a solid dark gray the height of a bicycle. Blank spot before and after the bicycle representing periods of time mentioned above. Very cool. This was a dream or non-lucid or semi-lucid OBE or vision, not thinking or visualizing, it was an experience that happened to me. I had to stop and say, Wow, what just happened.]
[NLOBE2] I'm being pulled floatingly over a concrete curb and the fronts of my feet drag across the top edge of the curb. At this moment my feet twitch hypnagogically and I wake up.
[NLOBE4] Another hypnagogic twitch. Both hands? Forgot.
[NLOBE5] I head out the door as someone else, and at the threshold, a balloon pops back inside where I am, and I come back instantly. [This is obviously the sharing of intent/awareness back and forth between two dreambodies trying to get more used to crossing over and back the threshold of sleep, working out signals between themselves.]
[Using recorded sounds to cover up environmental noise.]
[Took off headphones because I was sure children had come up the stairs--unquestioned, real--and no one was there. So got up to record:]
[NLOBE6] Forgot--a conceptual flight/NLOBE and tried to describe it at the time, but couldn't, so didn't get up to record it at that time.
[NLOBE7] I'm sitting with my hands up on the handles of a big old-fashioned baby carriage, pushing it forward and away from me, back-and-forth. As it comes toward me, I physically lift my two feet off the ground and feel the back axle of the carriage hit me gently on the bottom of my toes and push them up and back a little [which woke me to the fact that this only felt 100% physical, while it was in fact 100% non-physical.]
[Back to beats.]
[Had to get up--awesome session--wide awake, ready to finish typing the last several pages of dream journal. Final insights--"dream" mantra (the word "dream" repeated with considerable space between repetitions of it) is all that's needed for BM's interpreter to stay awake--all he's supposed to do is 1) stay awake, 2) know who he's working for, and 3) remember what happens. Awareness the Perceiver does the rest. Same with counting down from 300 to zero: leave a space between numbers. While in the clear mind space earlier I felt something new happening. I was saying "dream" and it was as if the word spread out and went in front of me like a snow plow clearing the space AHEAD of me so that mind would arrive in a space that was ALREADY clear of obstructing thoughts. This is not what I had thought before about mantra meditation. The word is like a beacon in the dark. To think or say that a mantra blocks or displaces thought is just a boring description of something new and amazing. Today I experienced it. I think the timing between thoughts is significant. Too long and I would go to sleep. Too close and I'd be in the mind. Milton Erickson also found that hypnotic suggestions were more effective if spaced apart some 10 seconds. The idea is to keep the mind engaged, but robotically so, just doing its part, and not taking over.]
2016-08-04 12:45 am
[With dreams like these, who needs OBEs? I just passed the petty tyrant test: I sublimated the petty tyrant and learned how to fly. Not lucid? No problem.]
[At about 9 pm I finished the first wave of edits on the public version of this journal, read one chapter of BM and headed for bed. Only then did I realize that there was some fairly quiet music coming from next door. Not the internetan, but the banana packing house next door in the other direction at another bro-in-law's house. I was afraid I'd get angry because I'd read through a variety of journal entries today about the attacks and was feeling touchy. It seems the petty tyrant only comes around when you're asking for it.]
[So I carefully engaged the brain muscle relaxation response and breathed hard and deep as needed, ignoring the tendencies to slip into self-righteous wrath and finally dipping deeper and deeper into sleep while the packing actually got noisier and noisier. The resulting dreams were almost too sublime to describe, but I'll try.]
I entered and maintained a timeless state for about three hours by putting all my energy and focus into an activity achieved by my dream body/bodies which occupied all of my available conscious energy in perfect balance. I am in awe, and grateful.
Like previous states of timelessness mentioned in the dream journal, this one was truly transcendent. Unlike others, this one did not have the grindy, gnashing feel of unending delirium. This one literally went by in what seemed like zero time while I don't have the feeling of having been unconscious at all since lying down. Not lucid--no problem.
Pure awareness will have to do. I forced my body asleep by pretending my brain is a muscle and relaxing it, and that's all I did. The only description of what I recall is this. And I honestly can't picture this scene without seeing myself in BLUE robes like Merlin the magician. Picture the character from Sword in the Stone--that's what I see--the sorcerer who taught young King Arthur to turn himself into a fish--the old man in blue robes. But without the plot. For ?hours of body/sleep time, I balanced a magic wand in the air by tapping it with another magic wand around and around in a circle in front of me. The circle was like an acoustical cylinder in front of me. The sound going in my ears as I slept went in a tunnel of perfectly coordinated sound of four beats per cycle as I tapped one magic wand with another, keeping the second stick in the air in flawless symmetrical cylindrical flight for however long this went on. When I first woke up, I was in total awe, which quickly faded due to the impossibility of ever adequately holding a mental picture of what I somehow accomplished. This act was so foreign to my human capability, but like playing a musical instrument, the exact timing of the tap-tap-tap-tap is what kept the wand afloat. And yet paradoxically, the experience as a whole occupied a timeless state, whatever that means.
This "dream" might have been preceded by a trip out of bed in my body or my dream body, because I saw my wife asleep in the extra bed and recalled seeing her there earlier, but had no idea why I got out of bed earlier, or when. It would be very rare for me to get out of bed, see my wife sleeping in the extra bed, but to have no idea what else I did. I had no thoughts of any physical needs such as getting a drink or peeing, so it could have been a barely remembered or non-lucid OBE. I literally have no thoughts attached to this event, of getting out of bed or back into bed. All I know is I saw my wife asleep in the extra bed. A pseudo-memory.
Then I had an amazing dream that I can hardly describe except by feel. It feels like a dream character reminded me of the cocky actor Woody Harrelson and it feels like a dream version of Bonnie and Clyde, in other words, this character, who was I, in my cocky persona Limberluck, had a female partner, but she might have been SC unseen.
It takes place in what I call Fiddletown, where I met Stumped-No-More long ago, around the same time I had my first OBE. It's an old western town with dry, sandy, dusty ground. I see this, seeing into the town square, but by feel, more than by sight. The only distinct memory I have is of flying in the face of arrogant self-appointed authoritarian types by flying in the air. But I don't recall actually seeing another person. I was in a three-story local government building with old-timey whitewashed walls and dark wooden banisters that went down three flights of stairs around and around a big square tunnel of air in the center of the perimeter of staircases. In other words, you could stand at the top of the staircase, look straight over the top railing and see right down to the ground floor straight below. The stair cases went down and around and around in a squared-off spiral with a tunnel of air in the middle.
I don't remember this in any detail, but I was near lucid at the time, with me in awe of my ability to flaunt my ability to fly in the face of those who would keep me in some kind of prison or restricting circumstance.
It's possible that I had the magic wand dream, went out of body in my bedroom, then back to the dream, but turned the four-sided tunnel formed by the magic wand (4 taps per circle) into the four sides of a tunnel of turning stairs.
The mood of the dream, besides using my flying ability to escape would-be imprisoners, was feeling carefree and happy, and literally expressing this by taking to the air and diving down the central well straight down between the staircases. That's the best I can describe what seems to be a nearly plotless series of dreams--in other words, non-lucid OBEs--occuping three hours of sleep time.
It took over an hour--not sleepy at all--to write this up. When I woke up, it was raining and the noisy packing next door was still going on, but now both have stopped and it's quiet.
[Look again at what I wrote when I went to bed. The last two sentences: "[noise] next door seems to be getting wound up for the night, so intention is to not try to sleep, but to literally try to stay awake. The noise should help."]
2016-08-05 4:20 am
A round hole is found in the ground that is full of what looks like very deep mud, water and leaves. It must be an old well.
I go back to the site with the engineer. He is taller than me, has black hair and a short full beard. Dressed in a gray polo shirt and jeans. With him is a woman who is also dark-haired and on the tall side. We cross a newly installed lawn to look at the multiple perfectly round depressions in the ground. The woman starts screaming hysterically because there are little closed-circuit TV cameras planted in the ground. We've been seen, our goose is cooked.
I'm traveling the road in the Philippines and while crossing over a bridge, I look down in the river and see a huge crocodile is swimming this way. I shout "Buaya!" in case anyone's interested. Then I wonder if there's more, and sure enough, right on the road to my left another huge buaya. I panic and disappear from the scene.
[Soul Retrieval begins here. Since I have been trying to avoid psychology and self-analysis, let me just state that this is the best I could do. The emotions caused by getting assaulted twice and not being able to do anything about it in terms of getting justice, and knowing I will live next door to the perpetrator till death do us part... had to be dealt with somehow because my practice was torn apart and this is what I did to put it back together. Resulting in my next phase experience, a lucid dream which took place on Aug. 19.]
[I used B Moen's method of changing a belief, and now I no longer believe that non-physical experience must be difficult to attain. Here are my notes on it:]
[Looking at Bruce Moen's book volume 2 p. 308, about changing a limiting belief. My limiting belief is the belief that I have to leave my body to experience non-physically. To change this belief, I have to ask to speak with the part of me that holds that belief. We have to come to an understanding of what that belief has done for me. I have to take over the responsibility up to now held by that part of me and if fitting, give that part of me a new responsibility in lieu of the old one. Remember to say thanks.]
[Going to bed, will have above talk with guides before going to sleep.]
[That went smoothly.]
I was informed without hesitation that the belief in question--that OBE is hard--served me well, decades ago, to make me seek an alternative to the notion of chemical-induced enlightenment, thus developing a work ethic about gaining otherworldly experiences. I relieved this part of me of having to hold that belief for me any longer, and instead gave him the job of holding the belief that being OBE is not necessary in order for non-physical experience to occur. ...At one point I let the physical get turned down and had this little sleep:
[LS] I'm going through a number of old pencils that have never been used, pulling out the best ones, which includes some that are already sharp and some that have never even been sharpened yet, in spite of their advanced age.
I'm at a marina restaurant with Hugh Leary and SC when I get the bad news. Something bad has happened and the two of them are going to move. I like the house and I'm going to stay. I'll have to find a new roommate to help pay the $400/month rent. I announce this to them and they smile with some secret knowledge.
[LS] Dreambody has a lattice of ice--a disc 8 inches in diameter and 2-1/2 inches thick--in his right hand, which he throws violently, which wakes me with a hypnagogic twitch.
[LS] Seeing a strikingly focused pattern of bright green blobs, I focus on it to try and fuzz it out. Finally all the green blobs are fuzzy except one, and then I manage to make that one defocus too.
[LS] Looking at a screen of Tommy the engineer, I say, "I wish I could have been a better friend to you, because you certainly deserve it." Dreambody claps his hands in front of the screen and my left elbow flies off the bed in a hypnagogic twitch.
2016-08-09 1:15 am
[I've been trying to force myself to get up and write this down for a couple hours. Here is the best I could do. There is a strong sense of this being connected at a deep level to something that came before it:]
A tall tower--"911" keeps coming into my awareness--I am aware of repeated replays over and over of a terrible disaster which destroys the tower and everything in it. I am situated at the end of a room like a court room opposite a large wall clock which is what I use to orient myself as this keeps being replayed. I am aware of extreme fear being somehow blocked so as to make this re-experiencing tolerable. At one point I feel a strong, harsh, energetic searing sensation along the left edge of my nose running down my cheek. [So I run my finger down this line and then try to reproduce this sensation to generate vibrations. I continue to dredge this mostly forgotten experience up in less and less accurately remembered versions over the course of a few hours, finally forcing myself awake and aware to get it written down in some form.]
In mountains near Santa Cruz, winter is ending, seen from above, and I'm trying to get home on a mountain road. All the roads or driveways coming down to this one are surrounded by bulky wooden frameworks which, because of the weather, have been extended into the roadway into which they jut intrusively. Having to go around them--dual consciousness. Someone's talking about changes to be made since winter's ending.
Arriving home in a communal situation where all my roommates are SC. They're ignoring an important phone call I'm receiving as I walk in. I see/hear my ancient bulky phone answering machine has a "1" on the red light indicator, indicating one message recorded earlier, and a second message in progress, being recorded right now. By what she's saying, I know the first message is from her too. She is a long lost friend trying to re-contact me, but stymied by misinformation coming from B. Penney and Breeze's hairy friend Brian.
I am pissed at my roommates for not picking up the phone. I grab the phone and start in with explanations and apologies. I recall this woman Camille (a doctor's daughter from LA) was physically so drop-dead gorgeous that I'm intimidated to near muteness, but I manage to focus my attention well enough to inform her that B. Penney and Brian are near strangers who know nothing about me, so whatever they might say about me would have to be meaningless. When I pick up the phone I call her "my French friend" because she has a European accent [not true, she's from LA, but this is her nevertheless.]
She seems to be coming around, but then later she says, "It's not gonna happen." It takes time for this to sink in, because at first I think she's saying something positive about our chances. Then I realize it's not positive, I start denying this to myself, [lose focus and wake up. Upsetting dream because she was a near miss and the timing was as bad as she was desirable.]
[Will go back to bed, that dream woke me up bad.]
[Hard to stop thinking, so meditated with mask and later woke up with strong hypnagogic energy including a counter-rotating visual field, very strong and light hazy white, like fog or clouds rotating in both directions. Maintained this vision by reminding myself to take a mild interest. Finally opened my eyes to check, and in fact the mask was in place despite the lightness of the images.]
2016-08-12 12:32 am
After many forgotten episodes, the word "rename" is clearly heard.
Can't focus or stay partly awake to write things down, so will go to bed and continue this session in my sleep.
[While deeply asleep... Unable to bring most of this to conscious memory and didn't get up at the time to record it.] Laughter is being pulled out of me from so deep a place that it burns and hurts me on the way out. It is forced through the physical body in spite of sleep paralysis.
At night. I'm homeless [Limberluck] and hungry and sick and weak, and I don't care; barely conscious. I would love to die, to see what it's like, but I don't care. A stout, strong young woman with dark brown hair is trying to help me wake up. She is very serious, not very girlish. I absolutely worship her. [This is Amelia, a younger version of my grandmother.] Although I want to die, she is so hell-bent on saving me that I try to cooperate with her in spite of great weakness of body and mind. We are on a wooden railroad platform across the street from an old wooden Convenience Store with no paint, at a deserted intersection. Nothing and no one else is around.
I'm showing her all my money, a few large coins from my pocket, trying to give them to her because they just annoy me, I don't want them. She is holding my body up off the ground, half kneeling next to me.
Then she backs up so I can see her whole body. She has short dark hair in a shag. She's wearing a windbreaker and tee-shirt and jeans. She is now the shape of an egg or a bowling pin, surprisingly wide right in the middle, maybe 2-1/2 feet across. The sudden awareness of her shape draws my attention to her midsection. She draws with her hand a long, shallow, upturned curve (the shape of a large smile) from her right kidney to her left. As she does so, she clearly says a single word out loud with an intensely focused look on her face, looking me straight in the eyes. The word she says is "Renal." Then we manage to go into the store to try and get me some food.
A young man who looks like me with a short beard and whose voice sounds like mine is the focus of this dream. He is someone who doesn't care what anyone thinks of him and does anything he wants. I consider him a bad risk, a loose cannon, a con artist, a psychopath, or all of the above. Someone who is just going to get everybody in trouble. [I did not recognize that he was me during the dream; I thought his voice sounded like Littlefoot's, but in fact my voice does sound like Littlefoot's.] Details are long forgotten unfortunately, but it took place in the Salina residential neighborhood where I often dream.
It seems the man is ejected from our company for being insincere or inadequate or unliked or something, but he comes right back. I decide I will just have to continue to deal with him.
[Both these dreams were about Limberluck. He is the happy-go-lucky street character who I dream about occasionally. When I am him it is always a high energy, carefree dream, usually with me as him, flying to entertain whoever happens to be around. He could sleep in a dumpster and smoke cigarette butts instead of eating food, he is totally free and has no needs, is afraid of nothing and nobody, and is not concerned with following anyone's rules or impressing anyone.]
2016-08-13 1:10 am
Abstract sample of ambient dream experience. As dream thoughts float past randomly, the portal simultaneously scoops them up in a variety of ways. A tube full of thoughts, but the tube presents itself differently to the thoughts, so the result is a layering of various approaches to the same thoughts and seeing some of the more prominent layers results in a feeling of doubleness. That's the best I can explain it except the tube is pink, 15 inches long, and 2-1/2 inches in diameter, like a tennis ball container, and has little gold stars all over it.
SC is cousin NM as a young man at the house. There is a big truck which I think I've been hired to drive, or could be hired. I want to prove to myself that I can. I drive it several blocks and come back. Then an older man, Uncle Buddy, is getting it ready for me, not knowing I already drove it. He finds the gas tank fill spout in the cab in the firewall, passenger side. There is a long solid wire 3/16" diameter, that has to be straightened and re-used. Earlier, while driving the truck, I just sat on a steel frame the size of a go-kart and scooted around.
[I am now called Uncle Buddy in the Philippines where I live, and on my internet forums.]
2016-08-14 3:30 am
Traveling with a couple outside of Glenwood Springs. The young woman is commenting on her sadness about the clearcutting that has taken place. I look at the stumps as we turn right up a switchback, and as we go up, it turns into a majestic staircase in a big city mansion, that has been turned into a high-class, low-key shopping mall for tourists. We go in the Bookstore and I am attracted and re-attracted to a certain section which I feel holds some kind of cosmic secret. As we head back downstairs so we can make the timing of a certain event, I decide to carry my tall, thin, aluminum water glass along and the woman comments on this courtesy.
[Just got up after laying in bed generating images at will for maybe 30-40 minutes. This is easy for me and no other exit strategy is needed. Now to try it at 4 am (no distractions), but I have to get back to going to bed at 8 pm. Earlier I had this dream:]
I have a friendly encounter with a fairly tall, middle-aged woman with big hair and lots of makeup. [Seems familiar, but can't place her.] Name is Mrs. Norton. She and a friend SC want to visit me at my hotel room, though I don't know why they are being so friendly. We are in modern Israel. I have limited time before leaving on a jet plane. Next time I see her, we're standing in the same line in an airport and she's even more insistent. She is slightly annoyed at my reluctance, but I'm married.
On the way to the apartment that I've been using while there, I get a strong hankering for sour foods, and I repeat their names as I walk down the sidewalk in the rain. Onion, horseradish, cheese, cranberry, and others. I have a sample of these foods in a stainless steel rectangular cake pan I'm carrying, but it's full of water, so I need to go to the store. The dog I called "Stench" [who was my companion on a vision quest I undertook in Glenwood Springs as a homeless person, age about 20] is leading me down the sidewalk on the right side of the street after I had waited for cars to pass and then levitated across the street hopping or sliding on one foot with the other foot propped in the air.
With Stench leading me down the wide city sidewalk in a downpour, I am almost lucid. I pay close attention to how wet the dog is getting, and amazed at his devotion. Unaware of being wet myself. I am naming the foods to myself that are floating in the pan I carry. Cheese, cranberry, onions, horseradish, etc. Finally we get to the apartment and go in. I'm slightly concerned the dog shouldn't be in the house.
[Just realized that the twins Nitpicker and Potwatcher are represented in dreams regularly as a pair of young workmen or a set of oafish twins, etc.
2016-08-15 1:49 am
[Laid down, put it out there, and reminded myself that it doesn't have to be hard. Went directly into a hypnagogic scene of a misty black place with figures of people wandering around. These figures are thoughts of revenge, I was told by ROTE, stuck in a hell of their own making. I went up closer and dispensed with the mist and saw every kind of normal person as a black outline cut-out figure. Housewives, children, all kinds of perfectly normal people. Then the state deepened and I saw detailed vivid images of a metallic robot-like head on a slender neck with a glass-like dome of textured surface like a street light lamp, but much bigger and pink color, but only putting out a subtle glow. Jewel-like detailed image. Someone demonstrated that this thing could be spun around effortlessly to point in any direction]
[Finally got up to write down what little I can remember. Every delay to stand up resulted in a lost chunk. The dream:]
Dream ended with me in bed at the Freedom House in a large well-lit room after much activity forgotten including something about a tiger, but what? [Tiger was my guide or power animal during all my shamanic soul retrieval long ago.] B. Meier (orange red hair) comes in to tell me that the sound that just started from another bunk was her grown son. I imagine him a fleshy man with shaved head. The sound: someone laughing in his sleep, a slow chortle. She turns the light out on her way out the door.
[The next things are very confusing and partial. Experienced the presence of an online friend VS expressing approval in some way. Was vaguely conscious and wondering "what was that" when someone swung a steel welded rake into a man's thigh and someone removed a rake from a man's thigh. Since both attacker and attackee were me, this was a shocking act of violence, very unexpected as I experienced it dually. Trying to decide how to say these things and trying to remember more, I lay there too long and fell asleep, forgetting even more.
At an evening BBQ get-together there are lots of people around, but many details forgot. Up on a hill next to the house, there are some ongoing construction projects with foundations laid, but awaiting further materials. Going from one unfinished building to the next with a group of guests, all SC. Looking at one with a long rectangular floor made of half-length hollow blocks. Set into what I remember to be a peppermint-candy-colored toothpasty goo along the perimeter, like denture glue, then the rest of the blocks inside the perimeter are just pushed down tightly together into the loose dirt.
My companions seem restless with nothing to do, and it seems they want to build something when they see all these blocks, so I suggest if they wanted to pull out the hollow blocks and make an enclosed BBQ pit, they could. Then I take it back, and D Rhaes agrees, that most of the blocks would break trying to uproot them since they're jammed in pretty tight next to each other. So we keep walking and the next thing I see is a solid-looking, large wooden rocking chair with very dark stain on it, but the guys who are walking with me (SC all) have apparently been entertaining themselves by scratching their initials into it. I complain about this and one of them politely informs me that no real harm has been done, the chair can still be used. I agree in principle but I say, "I know, I just don't care for that look." I walk toward the house, noting as I leave the chair that someone has scratched a heart into it with the words, "SaySay Luther" inside the heart. [SaySay is a little girl who lives next door and clicks LIKE a lot on my FB posts. Luther is what everyone used to call me before my two-year-old son renamed me "Buddy".]
My friends and I go into the house which is a long, rectangular, old-looking rental. There are people milling about. Some guy shows up at the door with his friends. I let him in and he hands me a miniature cupcake paper with what is obviously a psychedelic substance inside. I see it has a 3D structure, but I don't look closely, I fold it over and hide it in my hand. The man and his friends leave, never having spoken. SC I assume; this is a gift for me since I'm having this party. But there is something diabolical about the man. I trust his chemical agent, but I don't much trust his intentions. Someone says "Watch out, you'll end up owing him $50" for his so-called gift.
I make a clumsy motion with my left arm and most of the stuff, which is now a powder, spills out on the dirty, dark green carpet. At first I think it's a loss, but then I decide to scrape it up and stuff it in my mouth, where it becomes a gummy light blue chewy stuff. While scraping up the powder, I notice that under the spilled powder, in the carpet, there is a residue of a DARK ROYAL BLUE powder someone had got on the carpet earlier, a deadly pesticide that might kill me or make me very sick. I'm taking my chances because it's not every day someone gives you a ticket to paradise.
Then one of my friends (SC) tells me to look up, because someone's getting this on film, me ingesting illicit substances. Two feet away from me, a young man with long dark brown hair in a pony tail and wearing a hoody is kneeling next to me on the carpet taking pictures of me as fast as he can. Clickclickclickclickclick. I jump to my feet (almost lucid) and start saying insistently, "Give me the film Dave! Give me the film Dave!" He just backs away silently, so I kick him. My bare right foot lands on his hard shin and I hurt all the toes. [Someone had let the dog in and he barked, waking me up. The toes of my right foot hurt intensely for ten minutes. Maybe I kicked the wall in my sleep.]
2016-08-17 1:05 am
Can't decide if my little Toyota is red or BLUE, but whichever it is, it keeps getting towed and I can't afford it. Fella next door (SC) points out that it's gone again. [Lacking sleep.]
[Almost got out of body] looking at tunnel till it started to move. It turned into a bus and started to leave without me. I allowed this to happen over and over for practice, but didn't know how to merge with it.]
2016-08-18 5:30 am
[Decided to start meditating again. This was the first meditation session since right after the first attack. Dozed through 1-1/2 hour meditation but OK because many awakenings. No dreams or visions recalled except one, extremely vivid.]
[NLOBE] I'm meditating outside on the terrace when a big beautiful hawk soars slowly and majestically from left to right about 15 feet in front of me and a few feet above me, then it turns and heads straight towards me. I see it in perfect detail. I meet its eye and realize it's coming straight for my head. I reflexively put my clasped hands up to shield my face, [and wake up.]
[This was an exquisite vision. Unlike many NLOBEs it was extremely vivid and I did not have to ask myself what just happened when I woke up. It was so detailed and realistic that I was shocked to wake up and realize that it was "just a dream". When I think about it, I get shivers up my back.]
[Had a big hypnagogic twitch of right hand. Upon looking back at it, I was sure that this was non-physical. The motion was big--12 to 14 inches--and my hands were dangling down, I would have known if it was physical, and I did of course at first assume it was real.]
[NLOBE] The little dog Ho just put her right front paw on my left foot and then removed it. [Added note: this was a non-physical visitation from a close friend who lived next door and was either dying or had just died. Soon after this she reappeared as my lucidity guide Smudgely.]
2016-08-19 3:00 am
[Will meditate on terrace, then sleep with mask on extra bed.]
[To sleep in extra bed after many awakenings. Alarm set for 4:30 when my wife wants to get up. Telling myself it only takes two minutes to have a phase experience, so I have time for seven of them...]
A man is asking me if I wasn't (forgot what) in regards to a small cardboard box I am toying with in my hands. It's about 3 inches long, just a box for spare parts. Whatever's in it is BLUE. Laughter bubbles out of me. This is a truly magical experience. The laughter just bubbles and bubbles.
[Finally a truly lucid dream:]
Summer day. Outside in a friendly green neighborhood in Kansas with big green trees lining the street. Two-story old wooden houses. Two young women exit the house next door on my right and I head that way to see who they are and meet them.
But I change my mind and decide to have a phase experience instead!
I rise into the air with laughter bubbling out of me. I push more laughter out and I rise higher. I laugh all the way to an upper window and go inside the house. The upper room is warm and loving, otherwise nearly empty, but filled with a good feeling. Wood floor, a foam pad and red sleeping bag on the floor since if I've just moved in [Limberluck]. I carefully stack two empty cardboard boxes by the wall. I love this old house. What came in those boxes was really special. I sit on my bed on the floor and a dog visits me. She's pure white. I move her off my bed and she makes a whiny sound like she's hurt.
[Yesterday a YouTube OBE guru told me in an email that my advice to him had got him out of a dry spell and back to his normal density of OBE activity.]