I am with my niece's husband, Bryant. He is a mechanic. We are in an old car. The car needs a lot of work. We are pulled over on the side of the road and someone -- most likely a cop -- is asking us a bunch of questions. It feels like we are in Russia (I frequently dream of being in Russia). We suddenly translocate to an auto garage which is owned by John Hatcher, a guy I used to work for who owned a roofing company. The auto garage looks old, dingy and godforsaken. Bryant and I are getting the fluids checked for the old car. In this dream, Bryant is the driver, and I am the passenger. He tells the mechanic checking the fluid that the cap is brand new, thus the fluid should still be good. I am sitting on a bench in the shop and looking around. The ceilings are very high and I stare at up the rafters and widows. Looking up at them gives me a sense of acrophobia and creeps me out. Bryant has disappeared and I am by myself. I see gray electrical tape wrapped around the exposed AC flex snaking around the walls and rafters. The walls of the shop are made of gray cinderblock. Dreamt 1/23/2017
I am jumping from a tall iron bridge into a clear, cold river. It is in the middle of winter. There are many other people swimming in the river. This is part of a school assignment and there are military personnel who are also involved. I hold my breath and dive deep down into the transparent water. I swim under water a great distance, watching the other swimmers as they kick their legs and doggy-paddle and tread water above me. The water is perfectly clear, like swimming in a pool of pure drinking water. When I finally surface, I let out, "Wow! This water is cold!" The water is very cold, yet it is most invigorating and wonderful. I am very happy to be in the water. I wonder how I am able to swim in water of this temperature; I normally would be quite reluctant to jump into a freezing river.
I go from the river to an school office where suddenly I am standing before a black lady who looks like she is part of the adjunct staff. She asks if me I'd like some coffee. Looking over some paperwork, she says I did great, and then shows me my schedule. Every Monday and Tuesday I will have to meet a woman named "Nancy" (this is an actual lady I know from WL, one of my old customers) at a restaurant to go over my progress. These meetings with Nancy are mandatory. It slowly becomes clear to me that I am at an interview in which I am being considered for acceptance at this school. The black woman tells me she still has seven more applicants to interview. Recall fades. Dreamt 1/22/2017
A very fat man is talking to an old, Italian Godfatheresque character. It looks like they are negotiating a deal. The Godfather suddenly takes out a penknife and proceeds to slice the man, separating his thoracic cavity from his ribcage with clean precision. As the fat man lay on the ground dying, another man comes to finish him off by strangling him but a parade of children march between them, stopping the act. I wake up momentarily and begin counting, "1...I am lucid dreaming...2...I am lucid dreaming...3...I am lucid dreaming..." and slowly drift back to sleep. After several moments of HH, a new dream scenario begins to unfold:
I am back where the killing took place, but this time within a prison of concrete walls and corridors. I walk the length and breadth of the prison, focusing on the cement pattern in the walls. I keep putting my hand on the walls, trying to push through. Although I am seeing my hands, I have not done an RC yet. Yet I keep thinking, "If this were a dream, I could go through these walls..." My hands then begin to meld into the walls, like soft butter. I realize I am lucid. I quickly spin around and leap into the air and begin to float around the prison. As I levitate, I try to remember my dream goals and go over everything I want to do: sex, time travel, etc. but the dream suddenly darkens and I begin to lose control. As I fade out, I hear a girl's voice tell me that the counting method is a bad technique. Dreamt 1/21/2017
Updated 02-22-2017 at 02:10 PM by 92342
I am at a dignified office party, a party which takes up two floors of a department store. There are partygoers travelling up and down the escalators like shoppers at Macy's. Nobody's face is distinguishable; everyone is a shadow figure. The building is filled the sounds of conversation, laughter, background piano music, and wine glasses tinkling. The predominant color of the party is brown -- the walls and carpet and light fixtures are all brown, invoking a very seventies feel to the aura of the interior. There is a black Baby Grand piano on the first floor. Groups of people are huddled around it with drinks in their hand as some unseen shadow figure plays smooth jazz.
As I ponder the ambiance of this party, I wander the floors seemingly invisible: No one greets me, no one tries to talk to me, nobody recognizes me or even alludes to the fact that I'm noticed. I seem to be a ghost. When I realize this, everyone in the building suddenly freezes. The piano music stops. All the shadow figures freeze in mid-sentence, glasses raised, and the place is enveloped in utter silence. I will myself to rise above them like a spirit and float around the department store. I float past them down the escalators, along the corridors, the breezeways, over the indoor balconies. To me it looks like an empty department store filled with dark mannequins, mannequins which have no face.
I eventually leave the building and float out into the city. I walk amidst the rubble and ruin of where famous skyscrapers once stood. I begin to look for my brother in the rubble, but I cannot find him. I suddenly translocate from the demolition site to a warehouse filled with boxes and pallets and heavy machinery. I am now holding a glass bottle filled with a white, milky substance. I drink from it and it tastes like a vanilla milkshake/energy drink combo. Two warehouse employees join me and together we look for my brother. We make our way all the way to the back, expecting to see him sandbagging and hiding from the boss, but he's not there. I am wearing blue jeans and a blue button-down shirt -- dressed just like the other workers. I then realize that I too am on the clock now, and we shouldn't be back here. I look around cautiously and tell the two guys that as long as we hang here we should be safe from detection. Dreamt 1/20/2017
I am standing atop a small atoll in the Caribbean, surrounded by sugar-white sand and lazy palm trees. The water is crystal clear, turquoise and calm. About 50 ft. out in the water is a partially submerged Tastee-Freeze ice cream truck. The sunken ice cream truck is surrounded by jagged, chalky-white rocks. The rocks are small and smooth and I am able to zoom in on them with great detail. They provide a striking contrast against the tropical pale-blue water lapping up against the sides of the truck. I look down at my feet briefly on the sandy shore, and when I look up again, I now see there are two ice cream trucks. The second one lay perpendicular to the first, about 10 feet away from it. I toss a small pebble into the water and watch as the ripples slowly spread out to where the trucks are. By the time the ripples reach the second truck they have grown into waves. The waves cause the second truck to crash into the first truck and tip over.
With me on the secluded beach is a man who only speaks Russian. He arrived with a group of people from Moscow. One of the people in the group is a former client of mine from WL (he does not speak Russian to my knowledge). There is also an attractive Russian girl I had a relationship with when I lived in Moscow. In the dream she is cutting my hair as I stare out over the peaceful, translucent water. Dreamt 1/18/2017
I am sharing a hotel room with my sister-in-law, Michelle. We have separate beds. We appear to be on some sort of road trip. In the past, Michelle has given me CD's of J.S. Bach's music as gifts. This is because my wife had told her he is my favorite composer. In this dream, I am reclining on my bed and she is asking me questions about him. I try to explain why I love his music so, and describe what I experience when I listen to his art. I also give her some interesting biographical information on him. At some point, I get up to go to the bathroom. There I see an old, 80's-style transistor radio. As I push the chunky "play" button, the radio suddenly shapeshifts into an old library book on Bach. Glorious harpsichord music pours out of its pages when I open it. The music is elegant, exhilarating, exquisite...and wholly original. I marvel at the fact that I've never heard these Bach works before. I sit on the bathroom floor listening to the sounds, utterly stupefied.
The more I listen to the sounds, the more I begin to realize that this music is of pivotal relevance: it appears to be the missing link of transition between the high baroque which Bach epitomized and the lighter, more refined strains of classicism pioneered by Haydn and then perfected by Mozart. I ruminate in the dream that although musicologists conclude Bach is merely the culmination of the baroque, here I am listening to proof that Bach was also responsible for the transition into classicism! Academia will have to rewrite the textbooks!
Dumbfounded, I continue to listen to the music. As it plays on, I find myself more and more enraptured, enthralled and utterly amazed at how beautiful this music is. The synthesis of the two idioms is seamless. A lurking sensation however begins to surface in my mind as the music plays on: being a Bachian scholar, in reality I knew of no such transitional link existing in his music. This thought continues to wrestle in my mind and eventually nudges me toward a waking state. Upon awakening, I can still hear the tinkling and chiming and delicate phrasings of the passages of hypnogogic music, not yet completely faded. Motionless in bed and with my eyes still closed, I cherish the vanishing wisps of melody for as long as I can until at last they submerge back down into fathomless ocean of my subconscious. Dreamt 1/17/2017
I am walking down a path at a Walt Disney World-themed amusement park. It is twilight and there are other people on the path, walking around me. The weather is cold and rainy. People start putting on their parkas. I don't have a parka. I am alone and have a long, long way to go. I continue to walk up the path, shivering in the rain. I eventually arrive at a school bus on the side of the path parked next to a diner. I step inside the diner and it is empty. The bus driver is an old man, and he is walking around outside. There are beautiful chocolate pastries on the floor. The bus driver tells me that he will leave if I am not in the bus when he gets back.
I disregard his warning and begin eating the delicious chocolate pastries. I duck down from the window so he can't see me as I eat on the floor. When I finish the pastries, I head out to the parking lot and discover the bus is still there but the man is gone. I try to start the bus, but it won't turn over. It becomes clear to me that I should try to call my sister-in-law Michelle to show me how to start the bus. She manifests in the dream, we pop the hood, and as she tinkers with the engine, she begins to mock my wife: "Marissa would never know what to do in this situation. Serves her right!" Michelle gets the bus started, I thank her, and then drive to a dilapidated trailer park.
In the park I see a man pass by who looks like Albert Einstein. He turns to look at me with a serious gaze. He walks over to a set of wall lockers and starts rattling a compartment which has a padlock on it. I notice him pulling and heaving and grunting as he tries to yank it open. When he steps away I see the locker bulging and bending on its own. I also hear slams and thuds coming from within it. Somebody was trapped inside! Einstein then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hacksaw blade and knife and begins sawing at the lock and using the knife as a crowbar. The person inside the locker continues to kick the door and yell and cuss. When I step in closer I suddenly see Einstein's mugshot taped to the top of the locker. He is a criminal!
The caption beneath the mugshot reads that Einstein is an operative for the Russian mafia. He is going to kill whoever is in the locker.
I don't want to see the murder. He keeps filing away at the lock and strenuously prying at the door's hinges. I expect the locker to fly open at any second. But it never does. Dreamt 1/16/2017
Updated 02-03-2017 at 06:04 PM by 92342
I am at a roadside café with a buddy of mine. There's another guy tagging along with us, but we don't know him very well. He may have been a hitchhiker we picked up. He is annoying, and we'd like to get rid of him. The waitress is a petite older woman with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. She is wearing a traditional diner waitress uniform, with the apron sashes tied in a bow in the back. She is carrying a pot of freshly-brewed coffee and is bustling about the diner like a busy bee, filling coffee mugs and taking orders. I start up a friendly conversation with her when she comes to our booth.
She begins telling us about her hometown -- a place I'd never heard of by the name of Alkie, Texas. I keep asking her how to say the name. To me it sounds like the diminutive of being an alcoholic. Taking advantage of her southern congeniality and realizing there may be a way I could make some money, I ask her whether or not Alkie had big, upper-scale homes. She tells me there are indeed several wealthy neighborhoods, and then gives me directions on how to get to them. As I fish for more information, she proposes I take her car to go check out the neighborhoods for myself. After I reluctantly agree to take her car, she comes back from the kitchen with three keys stuck to a piece of white, laminated cardboard: one key for me, one for my friend, and one for the annoying guy who is tagging along with us and whom we can't seem to get rid of. He gets real excited when he sees "his" key, but I don't give it to him. I separate it from the cardboard and put it in my pocket.
She takes us outside to her car, an old white sedan, and wishes us good luck as she heads back inside the diner. Pulling out of the parking lot, it suddenly dawns on me I have no recollection of the directions she gave us. I just drive around aimlessly, looking for signs that might indicate how to get to Alkie. When it starts getting dark, I pull up to an old abandoned church. I'm not sure why I stop here, but the place seems familiar; it appears to be a place I recently visited in another fragment earlier that night. I have a nagging sensation that I have some unfinished business here. The three of us get out of the car and head toward the rectory. It is now twilight.
As we approach the door, we pass by two suspicious-looking men sitting on a stone bench. They stop talking and watch us. We enter the church and I quickly lock the door behind us. The church is dark, silent, empty. I peek out the little window in the door to see if the men on the bench had followed us, but all is quiet. The inside of the church is a bit unsettling. It appears that we entered through a side door leading into a kitchen. The sanctuary is to the right. The two guys I am with stay in the kitchen while I walk into the sanctuary.
There is a coffin at the altar. An old pewter candelabra sits on it, with extinguished white candles melted halfway down. In an instant, it all comes back to me: there was a funeral taking place in the church during my last dream fragment, and now it was over. But why didn't they bury the body? I suddenly realize I am in a locked, dark church with a dead body. I look around the sanctuary and see several people sleeping in lazy boy recliners. The recliners are where the pews used to be. Someone reclines too far back and falls out their chair. Other people then start waking up because of the noise. I see their faces and start to recognize them as the funeral-goers from the dream I had. It appears they had waited for me to return. They are friendly. In the back of the group, I see an extremely attractive blonde smiling at me. She captivates my full attention, and I forget everything as a powerful jolt of sexual arousal shoots through my body. Fade recall. Dreamt 1/15/2017
Updated 02-01-2017 at 03:23 PM by 92342
I am playing a game behind a big glass window, almost like a virtual old-fashioned pinball game, which started out with me playing it on my iPad, but then quickly morphed into a full-size attraction. It has huge flippers protruding through the glass to propel the ball. I walk outside the glass structure and notice I am naked (bingo dream sign). I do an RC and check my hands: they are deformed. I then look over to see a DC walking towards me, in the parking lot of where that glass pinball game was. It looks like an elven creature from one J.R. Tolkien's LOTR stories. It's very gangly, with big ears and a mouse-like face. Its big, intense eyes peer straight ahead, fixated on something in the far distance as it shambles forward. The mythological-looking creature never looks at me. I try to greet it. It doesn't talk to me.
As he walks past me, my subconscious informs me that this DC is, in fact, me. That this is how I look when I dream; this is the form and the image I take on. I marvel at this, wondering why my subconscious has projected me as in such a alien, non-human way. I figure I'll have a lot of introspective, self-analysis to do come morning. I try to address the creature and tell him that this is a dream. Again, no response; it is as though he is deaf. I think I even try call him by my own name, Paul, but to no avail. This lucid dream is very low-quality and blurry. There is a dirty, ubiquitous fog which permeates the dreamscape.
I follow the creature as he shambles into the building I just came from. The glass window is gone, the gigantic pinball machine which was behind it is gone. The interior now looks like someone's dingy apartment. It reminds me of the inside of a dank mobile home which hasn't been remodeled since 1979. The carpet is dark brown shag, and the kitchen is grotesquely in need of an upgrade. The walls are made of a type flimsy faux-wood paneling which was popular back in the 1970's. There are old, dirty plates and bowls piled up on the countertops. The strange caricature of me goes into the kitchen. I stay in the family room with the brown shag carpet. I walk around in circles, looking down at the carpet.
Because of the foggy, sluggish ambiance of the dream, I am unmotivated to do anything, and I and am reluctant to go anywhere without my dream-double (even though he seems oblivious to my presence). I peer pack into the kitchen and there he is, standing by the sink and eating something from a dish. He still hasn't said a word or looked at me. I decide to commit myself to staying here in this ramshackle abode with him. To make the most of my time, I practice dream stabilization and increasing vividness by rubbing my hands together and focusing on details in the room. I inspect a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall; I scrutinize the individual strands of brown shag in the carpet and I focus intently again on my hands. Every time I look at them they shapeshift. The final time I inspected them, they were black with outline of my fingers glowing with a green and red neon charge. There is a light switch on the wall. It worked (proving yet again that this type of RC can be unreliable).
I eventually lose control and my LD recall fades. Dreamt 1/15/2017
Updated 02-22-2017 at 02:13 PM by 92342
I am staying at a very prestigious hotel suite, akin to the Ambassador or Renaissance. I am just wandering around and exploring and marveling at all the different luxurious amenities they provide. I go downstairs to the lobby and check out the gym and shower/sauna area. Eventually, I get lost. Apparently, I am at this hotel and staying with a group of people, but I have separated myself from them. I see them in the distance but have no interest in rejoining them.
In the lobby of the hotel is a train depot, like the monorail system at Walt Disney World which runs through the Contemporary Hotel in the Magic Kingdom. I get on one of the trains and sit next to a British couple. The woman is incessantly talking to her husband and she never shuts up. We get off at the next stop, which looks like a big, empty terminal. There are rows of chairs in a circular pattern which go down into an amphitheater. I run toward the chairs and start jumping on them like a little kid, making my way towards the empty concession area in the far back of the station. As I hop on the chairs I can hear the British woman tell her husband that this was her "favorite stop" in America and that she loves to hop and jump on the chairs like I'm doing. Fade Recall. Dreamt 1/15/2017
I am talking to a guy in a bar who says he'll bump up my commissions to 65% if he ever becomes boss of my company. I pull out my iPad and show him the sweet deal I just closed. As he looks down at the contract, I look up and see my dead friend Don Wilson leaning against a far wall in the bar. Don died last September in an automobile accident. I forget the guy I am talking to and slowly walk over to my dead friend. As I do so, I realize that I am dreaming. This is a dream!
Don was a funeral director and fellow embalmer I worked with for about 3 years. His death shocked everyone. He was only 45 years old. We were pretty close and got along very well. Seeing him, now, in this LD, was a very beautiful experience. This was by far the most vivid LD I had ever had. As I approached him, I focused intently on his skin, his hair -- and, in particular, on the individual salt-and-pepper strains. Everything was perfect; he was as crystal-clear and identical body-wise as he was IWL. I could even smell his aftershave. I saw him and he looked at me and smiled, then he looked back down. I said, "Don, this is a dream. We are dreaming." He continued to look down, smiling. I touched his arm. He was solid, warm, real. I said, "I am so sorry about what happened to you. We all really miss you. Your mom loves you so much...and so do I." I touched his arm again and he continued to look down and smile. I was in awe of how detailed he was. He looked fantastic. I was tempted to say, "Death becomes you, my friend" but did not. I just stared at his hair. The more I focused on it, the more vivid and brilliant the LD became. I rubbed my hands to ground myself in lucidity even more.
I noticed the lights in the bar were starting to dim. I looked over my shoulder to see what was going on. Don did the same. When I looked back at Don, he was wearing a dark blue pullover sweater with a black zipper that went a quarter of the way down in the front. He wasn't wearing it before. Don was still looking inquisitively up as to why the lights were dimming, and he said with amusement, "Now I know what you mean about this being a dream..." As he said these words, I began to float. I didn't want to float away, but I couldn't stop it. I say to Don, "Look what we can do!" But he just stood there and watched me go up, slowly, like a helium balloon that was let go. My vision went dark as my head went through the ceiling, and I went into the attic. I looked down at my rising feet to see if Don was following me, but he wasn't. I was still looking down for Don when I suddenly heard my son in the TV room yell at his sister. His scream jolted me from the LD and I regained consciousness in my bed. I lay for about five minutes, processing it all. The realness of Don in the LD was so great that I found myself weeping as I poured my coffee. I earnestly thanked my subconscious for the experience, and found myself wishing that Don's mother and sister could have experienced the same. It was truly a miraculous experience.
Updated 02-22-2017 at 02:15 PM by 92342
I had an LD this morning which came as the result of a hybrid induction technique I've been experimenting with. The LD itself was brief, but its duration was not what I was after -- I was aiming instead for instant awareness and lucidity. And this I achieved. In fact, the shortness of the LD was due to my sheer surprise and excitement upon realizing that the technique actually worked. I've called it VBIM - Vision Board Induction Method. It is essentially the same method I use to manifest wealth through the laws of attraction via creative visualization. The method consists of only two components: one simple mantra, and one simple visual. The mantra is: "When I am dreaming, I am aware that I am dreaming," and the visual is two hands, palms up. The mantra was given to me by my subconscious higher-self during a period of hypnogogic activity, word-for-word. When I tried to exclude the word "that" from the mantra, I was instructed not to exclude it via a dream guide who appeared to me as a little girl sitting in a park.
To make the method work, you'll need to construct a vision board. The vision board's purpose is to implant the mantra and its associated image directly into your subconscious. Thus the two items become inseparable in your mind. For this, I use a 20 x 30 x 3/16 inch foam board that you can pick up at any hobby store for less than two bucks. On the board, I centralize the mantra and then surround the text with its associated image: the pair of hands. The vision board I created looks like this (please click to enlarge):
I look at this board frequently, several times a day. When I'm not in front of it, I visualize it in my mind. While I am driving, for instance, I can easily conjure the image. When I see the image in my mind, I do it holographically: meaning I attach emotion, sound and feeling to it, simulating the induction as though it were actually happening in a dream. When I see the hands, I automatically recite the affirmation (in my mind); when I recite the affirmation, I automatically see the hands (in my mind). I do this frequently throughout the day, pretending that WL right now is the dream. You can do this as frequently as you do your regular RC's throughout the day. Only this is much more powerful. It is like an RC on steroids when done properly. It also serves as an tremendous autosuggestion, as I explain below.
When I do VBIM, it is all mental. I am not moving my physical hands, nor am I actually speaking. Because while asleep in my bed, I am not physically moving my hands or speaking audibly. All the activity is taking place in my "dream mind" while I'm awake. As I look at my vision board and practice projecting its message through my third eye, it becomes embedded more and more deeply into the subconscious. And when I lay down at night, after doing a WBTB, I can go right back to sleep after journaling whatever recall I have from the first part of the night without having to worry about any additional techniques. For when I close my eyes, I automatically see my vision board -- and this provides an instant autosuggestion.
The first time I tried this method, I went lucid so fast that I didn't have time to stabilize or ground myself. Literally, as soon as the dream started (I was in a car, driving down the road), I began questioning my awareness. I thought the car drove strangely. When I slowed down to park, the brakes seemed bad; that's how keen my observation was. I remembered that my truck's breaks weren't nearly this bad in IWL. Up came the hands (an automatic reflex), and this time I saw that they were fat and misshapen -- BAM I was lucid. The dream had hardly started, yet I picked up on something so insignificant and mundane to which I would have never noticed otherwise (usually it takes me having a conversation with a dead person, or wandering around the halls of my high school naked to even think to do an RC). This method works very effectively for me. Maybe it will work for you?
Good luck, and sweet lucidity!
Updated 01-28-2017 at 05:58 PM by 92342
I am in an office, speaking to a woman named Esmeralda. She is an extremely sexy woman who resembles Olivia Munn. Our conversation is centered on the planning of some unknown function. My brother suddenly manifests in the office, dressed in a suit. We begin fighting for reasons I cannot recall. The fighting escalates to the point where my brother removes his shoes and throws them at me. I duck down as they hit the wall. We punch and kick each other in blind fury. I use loud profanity and order him to get out of the office. Esmeralda calmly watches this from her desk. My brother leaves and goes upstairs (there is a hotel above the office). As he leaves, another lady enters the office. Her name is Maria. She is the office "project manager", and she is also very attractive. I go outside to make sure my brother is gone from the premises. I am still out of breath from all the punching and kicking and it feels like my face is bleeding.
As I wander outside, I see a concrete hexagonal chute and decide to look inside it for my brother. But I get stuck when I turn around and try to exit it, and I can't return to the office. I see a fat woman pass by, heading towards to office door. I call to her from inside the chute for assistance. She pauses and looks stupidly at me. I tell her to go inside and get Esmeralda. She runs in the building, but soon comes back to tell me Esmeralda is gone. She then begins to flirt with me by crossing her legs and twirling her hair and smiling. I ask her to please go try to find someone -- I am stuck. She sticks her head in the door and calls for Maria. I tell her, "No! We need to find Esmeralda!" Recall fades. Dreamt 1/14/2017
Updated 01-24-2017 at 06:47 PM by 92342
I am working at an old funeral home in New Braunfels, Texas -- my old place of employment IRL. I am back on call with the other funeral directors and embalmers, rotating the nightly death calls. I am in the prep room (the place where all the embalming and cosmetic restoration goes on) talking with my co-workers and they are glad to have me back. I too am glad to be back. I am looking forward to embalming again (embalming was very relaxing and even therapeutic for me IRL). One thing keeps nagging at me: my embalming and funeral director licenses are all expired. I never renewed them after I left the industry three years ago. I now regret letting them expire.
I leave the funeral home on a motorcycle. This motorcycle has manifested before in other dreams (I do not drive a motorcycle IRL). I drive out to the country to be by the water. I roll up to a gothic-style iron fence. The fence has sharp spears on the rails and it surrounds a heavily-wooded estate. The mansion of the estate is located deep within the woods somewhere. A man suddenly appears at the fence. He is a brown-skinned Latino guy who reminds me of Paco Hewlette, a Puerto Rican kid who once lived next door to me. He is the neighbor of whoever lives behind the iron gate. He invites me over to his place. I park the motorbike beside the iron gate and walk over to his house, which is right on the water. He has a dirty swimming pool in the back of his house next to the lake. He invites me into the pool. As I sit across from him in his dirty pool, I see that the water in the pool is actually crystal-clear; it only looks dirty because there are strange dark objects floating in it. I am not able to define what these "things" are, but they do not defile the water. We are safe, and the water is clean. I am very relaxed. We are drinking good beer from glass bottles and smoking Cuban cigars.
I hear a noise and look over to see a city parade going down the road where I had parked my motorbike. There are all kinds of exotic animals in this parade: horses, llamas, goats, bears, elephants. The animals are dressed up in brilliant gold costumes and march down the road in obedient precision. I realize this is Paco's parade (or whatever the name of this dream character in the pool with me is). The house, the land, the gate, the animals all belong to Paco's father. There are people gathering along the sides of the road with cameras, and spectators are stopping their cars to get a glimpse of the parade. Suddenly, people are everywhere. This parade, it turns out, is a big event and it happens at this time every year. It's a famous parade, a staple of the community. Looking at all the exotic animals march down the road, I turn to my friend in the pool and say, "I guess this what you can do when you have more money than you know what to do with." Fade recall.
Other isolated fragments from the night include:
(1) I am with a friend walking around in the "underground district" of some unknown city. We are trying to get into a mysterious club after hours. The outer walls are made of stone, and the archway entrance resembles a Mediterranean garden (2) I am driving around the same city with a short-haired pug dog on my lap. I love the dog. He feels good and warm on my lap and he really enjoys me petting him. (3) I am in an apartment on a military base somewhere. Suddenly, from out in the distance, I hear a loud "Oorah!" as someone guns an engine and a car peels away. Marines are here on the post, apparently, and there is a party going on somewhere. Dreamt 1/09/2017
Updated 01-23-2017 at 03:59 PM by 92342
I am at a bowling alley/pool hall with family and in-laws and friends. A Hispanic couple is sitting across the table from me and my daughter. They do not talk to us. I've seen them before, perhaps in other dreams. They brought a transistor radio with them. It is under the table. When they get up from the table to go great someone, my daughter accidentally hits the "play" button with her leg and the radio starts blaring Tejano music.
I notice the couple turning around to look back at our table while shaking someone's hand. I am embarrassed. As the man returns to the table to turn off his radio, I try to apologize to him in Spanish and explain how my daughter's leg hit the play button by accident. But the only thing I could manage in Spanish is "La pierna de mi hija" (my daughter's leg), and point apologetically to her foot and then to the radio. He stares at me with a confused expression and says nothing. I ask another man sitting next to us to please help translate what happened. He leans forward and explains to the man with the radio in Spanish what I was trying to convey. The man nods and then understands it was an accident. He goes back to his wife. The man who translated now wants to engage me in conversation, but I am not interested in talking to him. Fade recall. Dreamt 1/09/2017
Updated 01-21-2017 at 05:54 PM by 92342