Morning of April 21, 2014. Monday.
This was a very long and convoluted dream (nearly novel-length) with many scenes and aspects. I will try to include mostly only the main scenes, yet even so, it will end up being a much larger entry. They do seem like completely separate parts upon first look, but I did not wake during any part which actually seemed to continue from the previous.
In one, my family and I are in the house at Stadcor Street in Brisbane. However, it also has a general look of the first floor (where the owners lived) of the boarding house on King Street. This is mostly relative to the additional windows and side door. There is a powerful storm of heavy rain, leaves, and wind. It seems that it will be very destructive. I notice our youngest son and youngest daughter outside (although very close to the window and under the eaves, so seemingly safe from the main downwards force) and yell for them to come into the house. They somehow come into the kitchen from outside (fictional entrance) and I then notice that the weather is actually uneventful now - and it is as if the “storm” was only somehow a vertical “layer” in one area or perimeter. A few other people are around then, mostly unknown. My wife’s brother Simon and his old girlfriend show up with laptop computers in the kitchen. I have my own computer, but oddly, it is able to change into different forms based on what website you go to or what commands you send. For example, at one point, it is only like a thin piece of vinyl which I continue to use as such. I complain to Simon about how the browser changes everything and how it is hard to type on thin, wavy surfaces, as well as the overall concept of typing on a sheet of plastic seeming utterly idiotic and problematic regardless of its “more advanced” status. Apparently, after a few more commands or particular website view, my original large monitor will rise up, self-built, and be “normal” again and the keyboard will revert to a normal one.
Later, I am outside at what almost seems like a rummage sale or garage sale setup, but hardly anyone is there. I meet with an old friend, David S (the place seems to be his), and we sit at a large makeshift table. We get into talking about our school days and he shows me some copies of schoolwork he still has that is still in the notebook. The writing is rather sparse over the page and seemingly in different styles. I ask him about where he went to school during certain time periods, which does not make much sense as he supposedly did not go to my school in the earlier years but only in the higher grades. The reality is actually the opposite of my dream’s conversation.
Later, I seem to be in the community center near Schuh Homes (where blocks of housing looked so much the same from one to the next, I never worked out how people could find their own house or even the right street), where I had only been once in real life for a group rummage sale. A few classmates from my early years are there, including Susan R (the “other”) yet again. I have this strange blue static electricity coming out of me in larger bolts, which sometimes happens in dreams with Susan. However, we are all still only in our early teens. My wife is also there. Susan’s mother tells me that I am married and there can be only one Yin and Yang, so I should not approach her, as the universe has been formed as such and it would cause a greater imbalance and thus cause people’s minds to shift into a more chaotic and “unaware” state than they already are in. (In reality, she is also married but still living in Florida according to two other people I know.) However, I still talk to her for awhile. The blue lightning continues to move about from my body, mostly from the palms of my hand, fingers, and arms, sometimes breaking a window. She is crying for some reason, probably more out of strange memories of the so-called paranormal (or perhaps my supposed “tampering with the timeline” - very curious and coincidental that Facebook has something called a “timeline” now and this is how I found out about her present-day status - thus once again a childhood dream is “resolved”), assuming the “selective amnesia” and “veil” has not become a major part of her thinking as with most.
There is a short, bizarre scene later on where an unknown male is pretending to be a newborn baby to somehow get access to (or eventually inherit) a younger female’s wealth. As she is driving the convertible and holding him, she seems to realize he is not actually a baby (due to how long his body is - not sure how she is able to hold him horizontally across her lap and drive at the same time) and soon throws him out of the car onto the street. He is annoyed but somehow uninjured, and is then planning his next move, which is integrated into the next odd scene.
Later, my wife and family and I are living in some sort of odd composite of Cubitis and the (rotated - perpendicular to real orientation) Stadcor Street house - which later has features of my sister’s house in La Crosse. We have a very large front yard that has mostly a gritty sandstone surface. Somehow, the house next door (where the aforementioned con artist lives) seems to integrate into at least one room of our house (a fairly common dream distortion). It is a tad confusing, as I am not sure where the other person’s room ends and mine (relative to my childhood bedroom) begins. There is a curtain that can be drawn across one doorway but I am not sure if my room continues around the corner of that area of the house, as I do not even know what items are mine. There are a lot of items on the floor there (so many that you would not be able to walk through without stepping on something or knocking something aside). It reminds me vaguely of the armory (actually used as a game room) in Arcadia. I notice several even stacks of playing cards on the floor - with the design on the back that shows a drawing of a “flapper girl” in an intricate web-like design around an oval framing her, from about the waist up. She is drinking from a cocktail glass and seen slightly from the side (but not in profile). The design appears in at least two colors. It almost looks like two people had been playing a game of “War” (in the card game sense).
Eventually, when I am outside, an eighty-year-old lady starts talking to me. Apparently, I have a lot of various small items of hers that somehow blew into our front yard. However, the con artist next door has a lot more of her possessions that were taken deliberately. I look down and notice an old pair of smaller attached identical postage stamps that are a grayish green and seemingly showing Queen Elizabeth in profile. This may or may not belong to the older lady. I do give her some things, which are different stamps and a few other items (including a pen, I believe). Her dog is also in the other yard, but I cannot get to it from where I am.
Later, the other male has two smaller moose heads in the game-trophy-type design, which are not actually real moose heads, but some sort of antique novelty whereby the mouth opens and a man and woman move about in a circle on a platform, as with a novelty clock. One is slightly bigger than the other. He puts them on the wall right next to each other, decides it does not look quite right, and arranges them differently (this is similar to a previous dream where people were not quite satisfied with paintings put up too close together).
Eventually, I discover skin coming off the palm of my right hand as it is sore and red at first (possibly caused by the blue lightning coming out from earlier or in handling some of the antique novelty items). However, it seemingly soon turns out to be “worse” than first thought - but that concern passes. Without much effort in trying to get the extra skin off that is flaking around the wound, the rest of the entire skin of my hand and fingers comes off in one larger opaque “sheet”, but like a light soft layer of fine material. It then seems okay and not what was originally believed. My hand looks perfectly healed and fresh underneath.
Finally, a recurring image; a human “eye” that is actually made up of a black “fetal sack” (or some sort of developing “egg”) as the pupil, and lightning forming parts of the pattern of the iris, with the sclera being the less defined “background noise” of the path of an individual. This represents the human eye as attaining particular forms of focus (via “lightning”) and processed into the “egg” of the individual - until one’s mind is more aware.