Morning of June 9, 2014. Monday.

Now this is what I call a long and convoluted dream, but I will only highlight the main details, though even that will take a bit of space. There seems to be a lot going on here.

The first section alone is long and convoluted and involves aliens arriving on the planet, though they are very friendly, it seems, at least to me. One alien male (known as a "malien" - pronounced "male-lee-in" and possibly also a play on a sister's name - Marilyn - I had not had this particular intriguing word play before) actually touches my hand in a friendly way a few different times (not sexual; some sort of inter-species communication it seems and also an attempt to learn my human nature and "read my thoughts" - it also seems related to healing and at one point, seems like the Source itself and thus I am intrigued for a time - the alien seeming more friendly than most humans, though still very human-like in general appearance). This part of my dream has the sparsely recurring lifelong theme of jets pursuing alien spacecrafts (or UFOs possibly not of alien origin in some cases) at various vectors through the sky. I am readying myself and informing others of the possible explosions to come near or upon the building we are in, so it is time to leave the area.

Later, my wife and I are together and I am showing her my dream universe, though I am only partially lucid. We visit my old home in Cubitis. We go near the neighbor's house and she sarcastically refers to Lisa M as a "changeling" (in reference to a precognitive dream I had before making contact with my wife to be; my dream about the grasshopper creature). No one else is around though, and looking in, it appears to have been long-abandoned (oddly, by Lisa's family, not the two later very short-term tenants) with everything left behind. There is a bed against the northeast corner of the front bedroom in the southwest corner of the house, an old dusty desk, oddly shaped piles of old stamp albums against the front west wall - with black covers (with some sort of multiple-half-bubble surface texture) filled with dirt and soot. However, when I look again, I see that it is actually a rollaway bed near a couch and there are other sudden transformations. There is a lot of clear, vivid detail even though the scene changes once, but still represents a long-abandoned home with all or most belongings left behind.

This obviously comes from having shown her very close details of the house (from the outside only) from the Mapcarta maps of the area - and the place really did look long-abandoned (with lots of mold and vines over the house, even large long vines blocking the back door), which actually makes certain older dreams precognitive in nature, including the grasshopper one. In real life, I had firmly held the idea "no one will ever live there again" (my own anger and "abandonment" issues). After that, my parents and I did have two more sets of neighbors, both ending up going crazy (one younger male, Larry D going nuts and killing his chickens after having long conversations on a day to day basis calling them "ladies" - and then letting the rest go into our yard, and after a short time after he left, a female who also went crazy and had to be taken away), and then the house was empty for a couple years before my family moved back to Wisconsin.

The next part of my dream continues from a more recently recognized "clue" I believe was given to me by the Source. In the grasshopper dream, there was a completely unknown white Maltese dog that barked at the creature before I woke (and the "same" dog has appeared in a few other dreams). I had no idea where it came from and never saw one in real life at that time. It turns out that my wife-to-be had been taking care of the exact "same" dog when we first made contact (though it technically belonged to a younger sister). This was only one of hundreds of more detailed "clues" that confirmed my lifelong connection to my twin flame. In this part, we are now walking along near a river on a higher embankment. My wife is carrying the Maltese dog for some reason. This is seemingly like some sort of long-term "final rescue" of the "mystery dog" from the very old grasshopper dream, like some sort of catalyst, I suppose. We are now even "moving to La Crosse" from that point, though it is more like instantly "jumping" there in-dream. Next, there is a recurring idea of having to walk around a very narrow ledge near the roaring river. We manage to get around, but there is nowhere else to go, as the bridge is out. I then suggest to my wife that we just fly over even though it looks problematic. The dog is floated out on its own through our combined mind power at the same time we make it across as well, slowly floating and moving over the turbulent river to the other side, going west now over the Black River area. Even though it was extremely vivid and potentially hazardous, I was not all that concerned since my lucidity was sharpening at this point. I reasoned that if I fell into the river instead of floating in the air to the other side, I would just wake up.

After we get to the other side, there is not much to look at. Apparently, it is an old pawn shop run by Jackie Gleason (as he appeared on "The Honeymooners"). I want to get to the next room (as if the building is a composite hotel and pawn shop) but I need to give him some money. I give him several times what is required. It is a special rare one dollar bill. Instead of having Emperor Norton on it as expected in-dream, it has the Honeymooners' Ed Norton character (Art Carney) as the iconic face with symmetrical arcs of fancy cursive handwriting in a few different areas. He looks at it in amazement and reflects on its value and rare nature (even though Norton was a "simple-minded buffoon" of sorts), with an enhanced nostalgic flair as only actors of that time period could do.

My wife and I enter the other room but then the door closes and locks as if we are now in some sort of bank vault (it actually seems like a strange composite of bank vault and small-town jail), which makes me annoyed. A few other people are in the room, most with a 1940s gangster presence. I am not sure what to do, as it feels similar to a previous dream about "having nowhere else to go". The door is of an odd design, though. It is like a Dutch door, but with the top and bottom sections being vertically maneuvered into the floor and ceiling and out again instead of horizontally on hinges. It also seems computerized or at least remotely controlled.

I decide, becoming slightly more lucid, that we will attempt to leave and go to a better location. "Twenty-two," I say. I look around, becoming impatient. "Twenty-two!" I declare. No one has a clue and nothing noticeable happens. I turn around to the west wall, opposite the sealed door. I then very clearly "draw" the number twenty-two (of the style with small curves at each start and on the downwardly curved bases as well) in the air just out from the wall's surface. When I finish, the locked door opens outward quite quickly and forcefully on its own. In fact, the entire room soon begins to rise up with the walls simultaneously going outward from the bottom up and disintegrating. From there, my wife and I are free to explore a large peaceful forest with no more man-made features or distractions. It seems to be an enhanced, larger than life area of Coon Valley.