The Door Of Death

I just awoke from an interesting dream, and am compelled to write about it, though I have no idea of what significance it may or may not have.

The first part that I can remember seems unrelated to the rest, but I will put it here for completeness.

I was in a college building and late for my first class of the day (being tardy and delinquent in my college courses is a recurring theme in my dreams). I contemplated not going at all since I had missed several classes already and was behind. But, I decided at the last minute to go, and arrived just as the professor was beginning his lecture.

The prof started by reviewing the results of a semi-final exam that I had missed. He kept looking at me in a way that expressed personal disappointment in my performance. Then he proceeded to lecture on some form of highly symbolic Boolean-like mathematics, writing complex characters on the chalkboard that I did not understand.

I quickly realized there was no point in my being there if I couldn’t understand what the professor was talking about, so I left.

I next found myself in the school cafeteria, much more reminiscent of high school than college. I was looking for someplace to sleep, but all the good spots were occupied by other people already sleeping (lying down on sofas and such under blankets).

I was trying to avoid a witch who was going around asking questions about some drawing she had. But, I could not avoid her and she approached me and showed me the drawing.

I was surprised to recognize the drawing as one that I myself had drawn, in pencil, a long time ago (though I recognized the drawing in the dream, upon awakening I have no recollection of having ever drawn anything like it). It was a drawing of a heavy magical wooden door, with ornate symbols carved into it and large wrought iron hinges and latch. In the center was a circle that contained some image in the center that at first I could make out. I told the witch that I not only recognized the drawing but that I was in fact the one who had drawn it.

She suddenly became very excited, and asked me where I had seen the door before, and what did I know about it. I told her that I had copied it from a book. She then directed my attention to a nearby wall, in which the very door I had drawn magically appeared. I stepped forward for a closer look, and then remembered that when I originally drew the door I could not make out the image inside the circle in the center of the door. But now I could see that it was the image of a snarling demonlike dog.

The witch demanded that I tell her how to open the door, which she called “the door of death”. I refused to tell her, and so she threatened me by telling me if I did not tell her how to open the door then the demon-dog depicted on it would be my fate (presumably when I died). I called her a liar, and pointed out that I could befriend and hence not fear any dog (it seemed we both understand that demons needed to be feared to have any power to torment).

The witch became angry at my defiance and threatened then to use her magic on me. She tried to strike me with something in her hand (a wand?) but I grabbed her. At first I only wanted to stop her from using her magic on me, but I quickly realized that stopping her now would not stop her later; I had to kill her in order to rid myself of her threat.

So, I essentially flung her around by her robes and slammed her head first into the ground. She shattered into shards of mirrored glass that scatted everywhere at my feet. She was clearly defeated and dead.

I began to clean up the mess I had made (by killing the witch) which had become a bunch of goo mixed with glass on the ground. Then a couple of popular high school jocks came over and told me that they were very impressed by the way I so calmly and confidently dealt with the witch, and they wanted me to join their “team” (and hence be accepted by the “popular” crowd). I accepted their invitation and agreed to meet them shortly at a popular bar where the popular crowd hung out.

I stopped cleaning up the mess I had made, leaving it for the “dweebs” to clean up, and headed for the bar with my new friends. Then I woke up.

The one thing that disturbs me the most about this dream is the way I accepted the offer of acceptance from the “popular crowd”. In real life I have received such offers (as an adult) and have turned them down as politely but adamantly as I could. I detest such superficial social status, and would rather be spit upon than a part of it. So why in this dream did I accept an offer that in reality would make me gag?

Who knows, maybe this dream reflects a less mature me, or perhaps is some haunting echo of my high school years, when being “popular” seemed so desirable. Whatever it was, it was. 

[J.D. 5-26-2014]

My Hanging

I dreamed this morning that I attended my own execution. It was a hanging.

The first thing I remember about the dream is being in a courtroom after having apparently been sentenced to death. But, rather than being lead out and off to some prison or another to wait out an appeal, I saw that a hangman’s noose had been strung off in one corner of the courtroom.

The reality of my death at the hands of the people was upon me. But even in this dream I quickly found my philosophical feet and braced against the imminence of my demise with the tried and true realization that we all must face our deaths sometime, and only an unprepared fool would let fear dominate the experience.

So, I was not afraid, but mostly curious, and a little sad that “the people” still believed murder to be somehow just.

The next thing I remember was seeing myself hanging by the neck, except I was actually in the audience of spectators. I even commented about the fact that they had failed to drop my body in order to break the neck. I was told that the intention of this hanging was deliberately strangulation, not disarticulation. But, I told the supposed executioner, I was clearly not strangling because my body was not heavy enough to cause the rope to even cut off my air. And, the fact that I was standing there talking to him was proof (somehow my body was hanging from the rope by the neck while I was in the audience at the same time, so if my body died then so would I). The executioner told me, with some clear uncertainty in his tone, to just wait and see; in time, he said, I would no longer be able to breathe and would consequently die.

I must have left then hanging at this point, because the next thing I remember was returning to the site of the hanging and being surprised to see the rope with no body hanging from it. I was still alive, so I knew the body must be too, and I assumed they gave up and decided to let me live. But, I was desperately wrong!

When I asked where they had taken my body they opened a refrigerator and I saw my body curled up inside slowly freezing to death!

I instantly flew into a rage, and swore that I would bring hell itself down upon their town (of the people who had condemned me). Then I yelled, “Smallville hasn’t seen the beginning of the suffering I will bring!” and then stormed off with nothing but pure malice in my heart.

In the rest of the dream I stormed through town, briefly considering the kind of harm I would do (i.e. kidnap more children? Murder people in public? etc…) but then arrived “home” (which turned out to be unique to this particular dream) and saw my brother, Bruce (who is deceased in real life) waiting for me.

After I woke I wondered why I responded so wrathfully to the hypocrisy that the people in the dream (much like in the real world) called justice. Why didn’t I simply forgive them, the way I have in reality? Am I only pretending to forgive? Does this dream indicate that perhaps I have not really forgiven anyone yet? That I still want “revenge” (i.e. their so-called idea of justice) in spite of all I profess?

It’s something to at least think about. But even if I still have not forgiven society in my heart-of-hearts, at least I’m honestly trying to; that should count for something.

[J.D. 3-9-2014]

A Bear Wrestling Lesson

   A few days ago I wrote a letter to a friend expounding on the consequences of living in a soft society where people are expected --- often forcibly coerced - to turn to an inept government for protection instead of learning how to protect themselves in situations where self-defense is the only real protection they have, such as when they are being robbed or assaulted. In my view such "weakness" is the catalyst for violent crime in the first place. But, I awoke from a dream this morning that has compelled me to consider a different viewpoint.

   In my dream I fell from a window that overlooked a wilderness area where two very large bears were foraging. I rolled down a very steep hill and ended up smack between the bears. Realizing the danger immediately i willed myself to stay calm and held out my hand palm down, to the nearest bear.

   I knew that all animals can sense fear and respomd aggressively. So I imagined that the bears were just large dogs, which I am not afraid of. The closest, and largest, of the bears smelled my hand, then, sensing no threat, went back to foraging. The other bear did the same.

   But then I made my first mistake. The bears were both still so close I could reach out and touch them, one on each side of me. I thought that if I tried to leave too soon (i.e. too quickly) that they might decide my eagerness to get away was a sign of weakness and attack. So, intead I reached out again to the larger bear and tried to scratch it between the ears. It pulled away cautiously at first, but then again assessed that I was no threat and let me touch him.

   As soon as I started scratching his head and he realized what pleasure I was giving him he stopped foraging and turned all of his attention to me, much as any anumal would. He wrapped one gargantuan paw around me, pinning me between himself and the ground, and positioned his head so that I could scratch more easily.

   I knew instantly I had made a real mistake. The bear was not going to let me leave at all now. I needed help!

   I figured I could yell without alarming the bears, as long as I kept panic out of my voice. I knew my older sisters were still in the building at the top of the hill I had just fallen down, and that they were near a window within earshot. So I yelled as loud but calmly as I could, "Help! Call the forest ranger!"

   That was my second mistake. It seemed the bear interpreted my yell as an invitation to play wrestle, which for an instant I thought was good, but quickly realized that play wrestling with a 500 pound bear wasn't the same as play wrestling with a 90 pound dog. It could get very deadly very quickly. Fortunately all I had to do was insist on scratching its head some more and the bear decided to save the play wrestling for later. And even more fortunately my sisters had heard me yell and I could see them in the window signalizing to me that they were calling the ranger and help was on the way.

   Then I woke up, and as usual I pondered my dream. The first thing that struch me as unusual was the fact that I called for help from an "authority figure". That's something that I prode yself in never needing to do. I figure if I can't protect myself then I don't deserve to live. But, I had never tested my philosophy in a situation like this before, and it made me think.

   Maybe the "authorities" are like an immune system for society, and the "cops" that I detest so much are the white blood cells. That would make someone like me, who has maliciously attacked other "cells", a kind of germ. Not a pleasant thought from my perspective, but I've never let the unpleasantness of a thought deter med from pursuing it. So this is something I'll never have to carefully consider for whatever lesson it may impart. I suspect that my old viewpoint and this new perspective each have merit. The trick, as usual, will be to find a middle ground where both views can compliment each other instead of conflicting as they do now in my heart and mind.

   I don't know where dreams that make me think like this come from, but I'm still convinced that they don't come from me alone. They attest to a connection that vinds us all, and hold lessons far more valuable than any college professor has ever imagined; if we just pay attention, and listen to them.


[J.D. 1-7-14]


P.S. In case you are wondering how I made the leap from yelling for help from a forest ranger to white blood cells and germs; you have only to consider that the perilous dilemma with the two bears was clearly symbolic of a situation involving people instead of animals. Once I realized this I saw the fault in my logic about expecting help from the "authorities". Sometimes no matter how prepared we are to help ourselves we may occasionally still need help from a professional. The only question is how much help is too much, and how much is too little (and, of course whether or not we should be compelled to seek help even when we don't want it).

P.S.S. My thought and feelings about self-sufficiency vs. government protection are actually far more complex than I have represented anywhere above, but I have simplified my views, as I often do, for the sake of brevity and clarity.

Drama Dream

   I had an interesting and vivid dream early this morning that seemed to illustrate some puzzling aspects about human emotional interplay.

   In the dream, I was som esort of government agent (probably F.B.I., but I don't specifically recall) assigned to work undercover with and prtect another agent who had no field training. Our goal was to illegally sell counterfeit historical ingots that my partner would pass off as genuine artifacts. He was an expert on the artifacts, which is why he was needed in order to pass off the fake ingots as real to a pair of knowledgeable criminals, one man and one woman.

   The buyers were secret Chinese agents, attempting to make the illegal purchase in order to obtain the artifacts for their government (probably as a matter of national pride and heritage). After they were convinved that the ingots were genuine they instructed my partner to meet them in a secluded stairwell in order to exhange them for a very large sum of money (hundreds of millions of dollars in cash that they had with them in a large cashbox). Against my advice my partner agreed to meet them in the stiarwell, and entered the area before I could stop him.

   Then something happened. The Chinese man grabbed the ingots (in a briefcase -sized special carrying case) and ran while the woman attacked my partner with some sort of small pointed instryment (like a sharp pen, but not a pen; a weapon). I intervened by grabbing the hand in which she wielded the device. At first I fought to keep her from stabbing me with it, but then I realized the she was trying to stab herself. But, I was bigger and stronger than she was, and, unlike in the movies these days where dainty women physically overpower men who are twice their size and strength, I soon managed to force her to releae the weapon. Then I slapped her hard in the face in order to convince her she was overpowered and subdue her. It worked, and once she stopped struggling I quickly cuffed her to the stairwell railing and then went to check on my partner.

   He was facing the wall with his hands over his face. I asked him if he was okay, and he said: "No, she got me in the eye." When I pulled his hand away to look I could see that the eye was blackened by some kind of fast acting corrosive poison and I knew I had to get him to the hospital quickly before the poison spread into his blood.

   This is where the dreams become really interesting, for me at least. When i see his eye and realize the danger he is in I have an overpowering emotional response of strong concern. I hug him and hold him tight in order to assure him, and tell him with strong emotion in my voice and tears in my eyes that he's going to be okay as I begin leading him toward the exit of the stairwell to get help. (I just realized as I write this that the reason for the strong emotional reaction could be related to another very emotional dream I had shortly after my arrest in 2005 about not being able to get anyone to help me remove a pencil that was stuck in my eye [see: "A Pencil In My Eye, entered on November 29, 2010].

   While I was helping my partner along, holding him and crying with concern, he says to me, "Nobody loves me THIS much in my life."

   I knew he meant that I was way over-concerned for him and that my emotional response was disproportionate to the circumstances. I quickly gave him the first excuse that came to mind. I said, "I know, but this is for T.V., so just go with it."

   I then tried to explain to him that I had learned how to step out of my emotions while I was in prison as a way to survive the pain and constant fear. It is what prison teaches. Though the pain and fearful emotions don't go away, I learned to disassociate myself from the emotions --- to see them as if they belonged to someone else, not me --- in order to be able to function and do what ever was necessary in order to survive regardless of how I felt. In short, I became an actor, or what i more commonly refered to as a "sociopath".

   I was explaining all this to him as I lead him down a corridor and into a nearby food court. That was where I woke up and thought what an interesting dream it was.


[J.D. 12-24-13]

A Dream Within A Dream

I dreamed this afternoon that I was working for a consulting company like the one I worked for a while I was living and attending college in Fargo. Except instead of factory automation software, this dream company designed and built portable inflatable business complexes that included offices, living quarters, and dining halls.

In the dream I was flying over some of our buildings, watching as they were being inflated into fully equipped utilities. I thought nothing of the fact that I was flying, it seemed natural.

I soon landed near the chow hall, where I met a couple of my coworkers and went inside. I was given a prefabricated meal tray, and we sat down together to eat. But, the food I was given, eggs and oatmeal, was not enough to satisfy me. So, I got up to get in line for more food.

I was able to find to serving line with no problem, but I was confused over which end to start. I eventually discovered the correct location, where I could get a tray, a plate, and utensils, then begin my way through the serving line. But a very rude woman prevented me from getting a tray so I could join the line by standing directly in front of the trays and refusing to move.

So I decided to return later, and went outside. Actually, I flew over to the entrance, and this time I felt special for being able to fly. When I got outside I realized that I should not be able to fly unless I was dreaming. At first the "realness" of the experience seemed to contradict this conclusion. But, I soon overcame the impression of reality by flying up to the roof.

I realized now that I was in a dream. But - and this is interesting - I assumed my "reality" was the world in which I was a consultant, not an inmate on death row. I was dreaming a lucid dream within a non lucid dream. And just like any lucid dream, I became impressed by the incredible detail and realness of it all.

I flew off the roof and up over a medium sized city with beautiful buildings in the distance. It was evening, and the city lights were intricate and mesmerizing. I remember thinking that I wanted to fly down and explore the detail of it all. But, as often occures in my lucid dreams, some mysterious force began pulling me in a direction I did not want to go.

I was pulled away from the city, and then down into a steep walled valley. It seemed the more I resisted the less detailed and intricate the dream became. Then there were three bird-like things flitting around my face, and I thought they were intrusions into my dream from "reality". But, the "reality" I supposed they were from was the one where I was a consultant.

I didn't like being pulled down. So, I decided to wake up. After a moment, I awoke and found myself, unexpectedly, in this prison cell. I thought, how strange it was to dream that I was lucid from within another dream.

(J.D. 5-18-13)

Whose Dream Is This Anyway?

I dreamed this morning that I was back in Summit House (a preferred prisoner housing unit without bars or concrete walls at the McNeil Island prison in the 1980's). I had some dirty laundry and was trying to find my way downstairs to the laundry room but the stairs had been moved. When I found them, on the wrong side of the stairwell, I went down and discovered that all the halls and doorways - including the main entrance and exit - were walled up with bricks! But, there was one small door that looked like a utility or maintenance closet. When I opened it and looked inside, sure enough, I saw a dimly lit room that had a dirt floor with various pipes, ducts and conduits running through it mostly along the walls. But, I also saw a long and wide tunnel in place of one wall that looked like it extended out far beyond the prison perimeter security fences then opened up to the outside. It was a way out of prison.

At first I thought it must be a trap. But, then I realized it didn't make any sense for there to be a trap like that, in fact, the whole situation, I suddenly realized, didn't make any sense. At that point I thought I must be dreaming, though I wasn't 100% certain. But, I decided if it was a dream then no harm could come from exploring the tunnel. So I did.

I went through the tunnel and exited on a paved area next to a warehouse. I seemed to be in some sort of warehouse district. There was a six-foot high chainlink fence that ran along one side of the roadway I was on and a warehouse on the other. I walked the length of the warehouse hoping to find something interesting, but the fence curved around then end of the warehouse and forced me back toward the tunnel I had come through, but only on the otherside of the warehouse.

At one point I saw a very interesting looking all glass house on the otherside of the six-foot fence that hemmed me in, about two-hundred yards away across an overgrown grass field. The house was brightly lit from the inside (it was dark out in my dream) which made it stand out beautifully. I wanted to take a closer look, so I began to climb the fence.

But, I couldn't get over the top, and I somehow started sliding down the fence as I hung onto it trying to get over. I was moving away from my goal of reaching the glass house, so I let go and fell back on the paved warehouse-side of the fence.

Then I got mad and thought, whose dream is this anyway? This is my dream! I should be able to go where I want! So I redoubled my determination to get over the fence as I grabbed it to pull myself up. This time when I got to the top I saw another fence, just like the one I was on, not twenty-feet away. That other fence wasn't there before. I realized that someone or something was deliberately trying to discourage me from going where I wanted to go.

That only made me even more determined than ever. So, I stood up on top of the fence and leaped into the air, trusting from dream experience that such a leap would result in my becoming airborn. And indeed I flew! I flew up about fifty-feet and easily cleared the second fence, though I was much higher in the air than I needed to be and promptly began to fall!

But, I also knew that I would not hit the ground. Experience told me to just relax; my dream would not let me get hurt, and once I was down I could continue to the house. So I just turned over on my back as I fell, expecting to be levitated again before hitting the ground. But, instead - and very much to my surprize - I hit the ground hard, flat on my back, with enough force to knock the wind out of me.

I was stunned, to say the least. Especially since at that exact moment of impact the dream ended, and I physically raised my arm - threw it into the air actually - as I woke to try to compensate for the impact I had just felt.

Wow! It seems clear that I was forcefully ejected from my own dream, and clearly because I refused to accept my containment. That was the firs time I'd ever hit the ground from a fall in a dream that I can remember. Here is the question I am now forced to ask: Is there an intelligent force, other than my own, somehow preventing me from exploring my own dreams? I have had other lucid dreams recently that were similar to the one just described, though until now I had not been so forcefully ejected, but in every case I have been clearly discouraged and prevented from exploring my own dream. None of the books I have been reading recently on lucid dreaming have mentioned this problem. In fact, they all express unrestricted freedom once lucid state is achieved. Could this also be the reason I have been having so few lucid dreams despite so much effort which in the past resulted in many lucid dreams?

It is a mystery I fully intend to pursue. I don't know, but I'm inclined to believe that some other intelligence than my own is involved, and hopefully I will be able to find a way to converse with it, or maybe learn how to listen to what it's trying to tell me.

Dream Comments

One of the reasons I keep this dream blog, and the primary reason I am so fascinated by all dreams (mine, or anyone else's), is because I believe dreams are the best clue we have into the nature of consciousness itself. I'm not as interested in the interpretations of dreams as I am in the mechanical aspects. That is, what can and cannot be done in dreams? Or, what precisely is the difference between dream experience and "real" experience? And, how exactly are they the same?

Just now I awoke from my morning siesta in which I was having a typical dream as I woke up. I somehow managed to retain the thread of consciousness as my mind slid from the dream state back to reality (or rather, what we call reality). As I did this I noticed the dream experience transitioned into a narrative that I myself was dictating or "making up" as the dream went along. In other words, it was like I had caught the man behind the curtain, and that man was me! One minute I was talking to someone on the phone in the dream world, and the next I was merely imagining the conversation I was having and inventing the words of the other person I was talking to as well as my own. The dream went from dream experience to simple and ordinary imagination without skipping a beat.

If this type of transition had only occured once or twice then I would register it as interesting, but not give it much significance. Perhaps it could be just some sort of trick of the dream consciousness, or even just an anomaly. But, I have experienced these types of transitions, where I "catch" myself imaging the dream as it goes along, several times (though they are rare). That makes me wonder, is a dream no more than an unconsciously imagined or invented story that our brain then translates for us into an actual experience? And if so, then might "reality" be no more than a similarly imagined story that some superconscious being is narrating, and inventing as He goes along, as well?

I realize of course that I'm not the first person to ever propose such a question about the nature of reality. But, i only do so now because of the experience I had this morning of that exact thing seeming to happen, at least on a personal level. So why shouldn't it happen on a cosmic level?