Morning of March 12, 2014. Wednesday.
Normally I am not at all concerned or focused on my age in dreams (even though I am a lot younger in the majority of my dreams), lucid or otherwise, but this one was a bit different.
I am in the pinhead’s apartment at the King Street boarding house. I am in a bed that would not have ever been in that location in real life, as it is aligned south and north (head to the north) along where the closet entrance would otherwise be, as well as blocking the door into the apartment. However, the dream places the doorway a bit more to the east. I am not sure if Leonard is still renting the place at that point, but he is there (though the room is mostly empty) and I am wondering if the owners are around. This is one of those dreams where I supposedly owe a lot of back rent, which is rather odd, especially considering the male owner died over twenty years ago in reality. (Probably Leonard has also passed on - when last I saw him years ago, he looked really tired and with snow white hair.) There seems to be some sort of long board from the ceiling or upper part of the wall that had fallen down and is also at an angle across most of the bed. I get the idea that the house has been in disrepair for a number of years even though people may be living there.
I get up and feel physically exhausted but am determined to enjoy myself. Even though I am not lucid, I still “know” that I can just jump out the window (from the second floor) and go flying off to the other side of town. I make the jump and it is an unusual sensation which also seems to make me feel a bit less groggy. I almost hit the ground, stopping at about a foot or so from the middle of the street and then quickly move back up near the tree tops, almost like some sort of bounce from something invisible and intangible.
As I fly northward, I seem to be aware of a large number of females on various areas of the sidewalk, each about a year apart in age, and each a version of my wife, somehow. One calls to me in a friendly manner. It is almost like some sort of timeline series or "age index" in real time, although that is not really a correct term in reality - but is what is manifest in the phrasing in the dream. I fly on to some sort of lighthouse in the middle of town (the nearest body of water being the Black River area of the Mississippi).
In the top of the lighthouse, I decide to see how long I will live. I will do this by turning a different “age index” until it reaches where my “oldest” age is recorded. I am not sure yet how I will recognize such data. The “age index” is like a long ski lift at first, with various number values as well as the notes of the musical scale continuing one octave after the next, each written in sequence on a different section of each ski lift chair. Every now and then, I notice an unfamiliar name on the side of a particular ski lift chair. It takes a lot of strength to pull the weight of the entire ski lift route by somehow forcing the ropes around from where the bull-wheel is, turning it manually, but I am able to with only mild discomfort. There are other people there who seem somewhat annoyed that I am disrupting their daily routine.
Over time, I come to my name written out just beyond a large Eb (E flat) note, printed at somewhat of an angle, and the number 59 in a nearby location. Another man seems happy that I will “live that long”. However, that is a young age to pass away, in my opinion, and is not that far off, really. However, Eb is actually the value of around 78 (near the age when my father died) whereas 59 is closer to the lower Bb in that range. (77.782 and 58.27 to be precise). At this point the ski lift seems slightly more like a Ferris wheel that I am somehow turning about.