"The things you look for in really bad terrorists -- like a beard." And the guy is some actor whose name I can't think of.Some online comic/game in a forum with a female elf/dwarf.
From the night before last:
I'm upset with a man. I'm under the impression we're either married or intimate, possibly both. The terms of our arrangement are exclusive so when I find him with another woman I'm surprised. Granted I hadn't been in love with him so his violation of terms wasn't especially hurtful, but I'm disappointed that now I must end the arrangement. I'm staring at the pair of them while also observing the timeline change. I can't work with someone I can't trust; breaking an agreement sets a tone of mistrust. Given our agenda, he was to be very useful. The timeline fades and the result is less impressive with his absence. Given this result I'm rearranging the sequence, trying to see if there's another way to get the task completed. I find just one alternative.
Dream changes. I'm walking with another man into an area that resembles a shopping center. Others are inviting us further inside while the masses are rushing toward the exit. Their eagerness to have us enter further is deceitful and when I search for the 'why' I see that we're to die here. It's not personal, there's just something about the man and me that fit their target audience. Nonetheless, seems like something I'd prefer to avoid. We turn around and leave. On our way out I see that man I'd had prior business with. I look at him from behind a tinted truck window. His truck window, oddly enough. Thing was, he had to be replaced. Replacing him changed a number of factors, regretfully. He doesn't seem to have any recollection that this was even his truck. It's as though his memories had been wiped clean of anything regarding our arrangement--including myself.
He's preparing to go inside the building. I'm aware he'll die here. When changes are made, an individual is saved, there's often a sacrifice. I wasn't expecting it to be him. I roll down my window and quietly say in regards to him, though not intending him to hear it, "I love you, Aiden." I've never liked goodbyes. I'm genuinely sad about this. I roll my window up.
Woke. Back asleep.
There's a house I've bought with a man and we scored in regard to the price. Our first night is spent downstairs in the living room and it isn't until I get up and accidentally find the restroom that I hear a loud clang. I'm startled and search for the source. After a few more ghostly experiences I realize this house is filled with demon inhabitants. Problem is I can't see them.
I go and inform the man. He's not bothered by the demons. I'm marginally bothered. Mainly because I hate being interrupted and 'home' should be a place with the least amount of interruptions. Selling would be a pain so I'm considering just coming to an agreement with them.
There's another house. The scene is shaky and I'm experiencing difficulty keeping myself here. I'm with a man again and we're hunting down a single, elusive entity. There's an overtone of darkness which makes the search interesting for me.
As I'm following the path toward that entity, I arrive at a field, follow the field to a large castle. There's at least hundreds of people here trying to attack the castle and the chaotic mess is something I want to weed through quickly, if I can. I manage to climb the castle and while at the top of it I notice a black sand beach. Lucidity begins kicking in as I look from the castle to the beach. I recognize the beach is higher than the land, so I must be dreaming. Now lucid I decide to explore the beach instead. I jump in. Others join me. It's gorgeous. So gorgeous that I'm losing the dream entirely as I begin to pass out in the water. A man's voice chimes in, narrator style: These waters are filled with crocodiles.
I open just one eye and look at the water. It's now murky with a green tinge to it. My other eye opens and I look around for the voice. That was entirely not necessary.
I can't find the source of the voice but I know I recognize it. It's the same narrator voice I've been hearing in dreams. Looking around everyone is still swimming. I'm trying to persuade my mind to forget the crocodile idea, but it's one of those things that's been set into motion and I feel it building. I continue my determination in forgetting the idea and return to floating on my back. The idea isn't fading. Seconds later a gator nose appears over my stomach. I've failed. I grab the nose and close it, then guide the gator in another direction.
The other swimmers scream and rush out of the water. I'm taking my time, being sure to complain to the voice that he got what he wants. I'll resume searching for that entity...because breaks are so overrated. We should work constantly, overextend ourselves, keep things chaotic and messy. Yes! Because that's what we do. Why should that change? I'll continue working for a mysterious voice, because transparency is so overrated too!
Pretty sure my enthused complaining is what caused me to wake.
We're reclined on a bed or couch. A man hands me a small glass. I take a shot. The room blurs after a second one. I'm laughing and stand for a second. The room spins faster. I giggle then collapse onto the plushy bed couch thing. He's staring at me. Offers another drink. I decline. It's obvious what he's doing; what's not obvious is why.
He tells me to try some pills. Tells me it'll make me feel better. I take the orange bottle and shake the pills around. Trying to figure out what type of pills they are. I can't tell. I hand them back. He refuses the bottle and pushes it back to me. I have a second look at the pills. Then at him. I sober myself up so I can get a better glimpse of his motives. I'm suddenly less bubbly about this experience. His goal isn't just sex. It's flirting along that agenda but it extends past it. May not even involve sex, but sex is definitely being used as a lure. I expected pointless down time by coming here--fun. I like letting my guard down, getting to be me. I hadn't expected games. Games like these are best played sober. I leave.
1. This dream played out like a movie, except instead of watching from the outside, I was a presence inside the girlís head and I knew more about what was going on than her.
The girl is standing with a man. He asks her if she needs something to read, and when she says yes, asks which kinds of books she had. She answers, Ďnature and werewolvesí. Apparently something had happened to her copies. I was waiting for him to react to the latter term because I Ďknewí he was one.
He leaves, and sheís holding some kind of tablet of his. I think to snoop around in it but dismiss it. She puts it on the round table nearby.
Sheís in a room. Itís really blurry here, but she gets really sick and pukes. She tries to reassure the man that it must be because she only ate twice that day. But I wonder if the man will suspect that itís because sheís turning into a vampire herself and canít process food normally anymore.
Meanwhile, I suddenly have this knowledge that the man is a vampire, and is looking for this sort of leader of the vampires, or at least his group, named Karen, and the girl could be her.
I remember that the girl had dark, longer hair with some kind of braided hairstyle. She was around 17-20 in age.
Inspiration: Iím wondering if the vampire thing naturally led to the girl being Elena from Vampire Diaries. IDK why Iím having so many werewolf dreams, they donít even turn Ėinto- werewolves in them!
2. Blurry fragment. Iím at this machine sitting on a counter looking at the option for these black plastic cups. You could get a smaller sized amount or 14. We needed 15 but I have no choice but to get the 14. Something about food. Gap. Mom is there and says something about being thankful for an extra cup being left there by someone. She pressed a button and a bucket thing with the cups in it starts descending down into the counter.
Inspiration: We have these sturdy plastic cups but there arenít many left, and mom used some of them for something a couple of days ago and I was worried she was just going to throw them away after.
3. I was looking at some website that made me nostalgic. A lot of people made pages dedicated to certain things like a series or character, and theyíd post a bunch of stuff on them like fanart and they were really popular, but they started getting deleted (maybe even by the people themselves) and then it sort of fell into disuse.
Inspiration: Gave me strong dťjŗ vu, but I donít recall a site like that. Maybe inspired by Tumblr+LJ, because I was thinking about it earlier.
4. Something about mom telling me Jack was working.
5. Grandma asks me about this cereal we have IWL, I answer back and she says that itís going stale.
Inspiration: Me wondering if people would finish the cereal in time.
The setting of the dream was the farm where I lived as a teenager, but nothing about the plot resembled waking life, and my own character was an adolescent boy. I was the son of our tribe's chieftain, and another adult male in the tribe approached me with an offer. He wanted to buy my father's flower that was growing near the chicken house, offering me a groat in exchange. I refused, of course: the flower was not mine to sell.
On my way to the barn I passed the flower and glanced at it. It was beautiful and otherworldly, with large hanging bell-shaped blossoms of red and purple. I thought I had made the right decision by turning the man away. I went into the barn, the bottom floor of which was completely empty of everything but a pile of horse manure that had been gathered into the center of the space. This was a bit odd, but my thoughts were elsewhere.
I was remembering what the same man had done for the nuns: by giving them an iPad, he had eliminated their tendency to engage in other, more heretical, forms of augury. Had he been testing me? Obviously it would have been wrong to sell the flower for my own gain, but perhaps it was also wrong to refuse outright. I should tell my father about the offer and see if he might want to sell the flower after all. Perhaps he needs a groat.
I go talk to my father. He is not a human but a ring of flexible tissue suspended within a rigid round frame that forms an outer ring. My character, the young boy, is not surprised by this, but OOCly I find it odd. It is hypnotic to watch the creature talk: the inner ring changes shape, forming geometric and other patterns, while vibrating. Together the shape-changing and vibration sound quite similar to a human voice, though higher-pitched and with more vibrato.
I mention that I want to talk about so-and-so, the member of the tribe who offered me the deal (at the time I knew his name, but lost it on waking), and at once my father starts describing a recent encounter with the guy:
"We chat a while, then he tells me what a fine young man you are. I'm thinking, wowwww!" He emphasizes the word "wow," drawing it out with varying intonations a bit like a hippy or stoner might... and then the sound blends into the chime of my alarm going off and waking me. I was annoyed to be interrupted mid-dream!
1. Something disturbs me, and I get up and go look out my bedroom door just as someone comes in and passes me by. I see nothing out in the hall and turn back to look at the person – but there’s no one there.
Then I realized that I was awake. I don’t know if the whole thing was sleepwalking or if some part of it was a dream.
Inspiration: Probably from my door creaking because of the wind and me being paranoid.
2. Editing Kyou Kara Maou! on Goodreads.
Inspiration: Was thinking about how the KKM! light novels weren’t in the MyAnimeList database and wondered about Goodreads.
3. Me and Rane follow someone into a waiting room of sorts. I’m wearing a long skirt and a sleeveless, light blue denim shirt I think. I lean against the wall as Rane sits down. She pats the seat to her right, the only one of the four along that wall that’s available, and I go sit down.
I overhear someone talking across from us, something about a young girl (around 16) being engaged, and I see she’s obviously not ready for it and shake my head mentally. She had dirty blond hair in a ponytail.
Then a dog comes up to me and I greet it like I’m familiar with it. Only it turns away when I try to pet it. But then I see another dog and think that must be the one I know. There’s another, bigger dog as well, and I decide to just pretend to ignore them and let them get to know me at their own pace. They’re all brown-haired, two are coarse-haired and one is long-haired (the bigger one). The last one comes over and smells my hands in my lap and I let it without moving. When I think it’s okay, I move them to pet the dog but it moves away.
Now we’re standing at the door out talking to the man we came with. He’s asking us what food we want and gives us two options. The conversation is a bit vague, but Rane decides she doesn’t want the one, but instead ‘Cesserian food’. Mentally I’m a bit ‘hmmm’ because I don’t know if I’ll like it.
I’m in a room where someone is cleaning up stuff, there are papers with things written on them lying around and I realize some of it might be important. I go over and grab my dream journal and a clipboard with papers on it.
I’m in a bathroom that looks like the downstairs one IWL. I need to go but it’s totally clogged/gross and the seat is broke. I try to flush it but it doesn’t take care of it fully. I decide to try another one.
As I’m heading upstairs, I decide to go the bathroom up here; I know it’s always clean.
The man had given me some kind of item that was supposed to be a convenient way to transport yourself around.
I was scrubbing at this pillow with a rag or something until I thought the area was big enough to use. Then I pressed myself down onto it and waited to be transported. …But nothing happened. (I was expecting to sink down into it and reappear somewhere else.)
I remember getting frustrated before because I dribbled water down a little black and white notebook with words on the pages.
I was annoyed and went to tell mom about it. She told me a bit about how it was supposed to work, and that you can get a marker that works for 2000 strokes.
Inspirations: Thinking about going through mirrors and transporting through water. Thinking about my aunt and her husband. A mix of a story mom told me about my uncle. My aunt going into labor last night and mom leaving to go be with her made me think about waiting rooms.
Updated 03-15-2015 at 03:43 AM by 20026
Iím sitting on the end of a bed playing Pokemon on the TV across from me thatís on a black dresser - except Iím not using a remote, but my mind. I keep thinking that I need one to do certain things, but push on with my mind.
I end up being able to do things I wouldnít otherwise, like flipping over a wall and getting ahead to a town I wouldnít have so soon otherwise.
(I get dťjŗ vu while thinking about that town, feeling like I had a similar dream before.)
A guy comes in to talk to a woman whoís behind me somewhere, and I get self-conscious about my state of undress and discretely either put on a shirt or pull it down over my chest. May have been wearing what I went to bed in.
Some bulky guy is trying to help me with a problem with Jazzy, I donít want to have to do what heís suggesting but it may be the only way, and I just want to help her.
Iím flying along a quaint path with forest on either side and sometimes fences. I want to fly faster and suddenly realize that I can make that happen. ĎFaster, faster!í And I do, almost going too fast as I get close and personal with some of the fences, but I somehow manage to avoid crashing by rolling away midair and such.
-Saw someone else mention Pokemon in their dreams , but I also swear I remember seeing a post about it on Tumblr that made me think of the latest games.
-Last night I had a funny conversation with mom about how dad was covering up his chest after taking his shirt off. I wasnít wearing a bra under my shirt and it got me thinking about male vs female top nudity.
-I wish the flying part was more clear in my memory ugh it looks like so much fun. I usually get lucid and then take off flying.
2. BL manga style dream.
Spoiler for Sexuality:
Two guys who are a couple are making out, and the slightly taller one didnít mean to take it so far (the other guy had somewhere to be soon) but next thing, heís preparing him for sex. But he doesnít get far-
I feel like the shorter guy was some kind of religious figure. One of his fellow people come in to let him know itís almost time, and he sees the taller guy who has dark, short hair leaning over the other one with light, tan short hair and just ~stares~ deadpan as the couple freezes.
Now the fellow person is leaning over the shorter guy, checking his ass to make sure heís not damaged.
ĒWhy do you have to do that? The whole reason I came here was to get away from stuff like that.Ē He says.
Inspirations: Definitely inspired by an ABO (Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics) fic I was reading last night where a omega male becomes a priest because male omegas are rare and treated badly, so he starts up a shelter for people like him, but alpha males come and take that away, and he later meets someone and falls in lust/love with him, plus the style comes from BL manga which I read fairly often. It was probably in the POV of the top because that fic was in the POV of the alpha.
Updated 03-14-2015 at 04:06 AM by 20026
Ritual: WTB 1am, WBTB 6-7am recording NLDs, woke 7:45am with DILD + FA.
NLD, "Sparked": Walking home at night. Someone drives past in a dark vehicle and I say, "Turn on your lights!" Then I feel embarrassed when I notice she is actually walking. She enters the apartment two doors ahead of mine. The door next to her place is open, and there are people just inside it who give the impression that they are workers, not residents. My bed is the first thing I see when I open the door of my apartment, and I'm pleased to see a large box on it. Oh good, that thing I ordered has arrived.
After looking through the first box and strewing its contents, plastic wrap and styrofoam all over my bed, I open a smaller box that has also arrived. It contains a speaker that I ordered. When I first pull it out of the packaging I am disappointed: the surface is surprisingly dirty. Is it just shelfworn, or did I get a refurbished one by mistake? I'll be annoyed in the latter case, since I thought I was ordering a new one. There is some molded styrofoam that seems like the original packaging, if that's any clue.
The speaker weighs almost nothing, and I remember that this is a special lightweight system. It's portability is limited by its size, however, at about 8x10 inches. The back of it consists of flaps are supposed to fold together in a clever way. As I go to remove the last of the styrofoam supports, something unusual happens inside my head, like an electrical disruption.
I remain calm and think I'd better tell my roommates about this in case it incapacitates me and I end up needing medical attention, so I say aloud: "Hey guys, something weird just happened to me. I felt a "pop," saw a flash of white light, and now in the back of my head I hear a tone that is steadily increasing in frequency."
"You need more sleep," someone suggested. He could be right, but I didn't see the relevance. I do want to go back to bed but I'll have to clear all the box mess off it first.
What was happening to me? I had a contextual clue, at least: "It happened when I touched the speaker for the first time." Perhaps the device had built up some kind of strange electrical charge that I had triggered?
All this time the tone was whining to higher and higher pitches, and I waited with curiosity and slight anxiety to see what would happen next. When it seemed like it had become so shrill that it would soon pass beyond my auditory range, all that happened was that I woke up.
Note: The other day I read about "exploding head syndrome." This might have been a minor instance of it! The "popping" sound and flash of light are apparently classic symptoms. This is only the second time I've experienced something like this.
DILD, "Victorian Gentleman": I'm at a computer trying to order something online. I don't recall what it was, but the cost was over $200. There were some complicated webforms to navigate, and then after some difficulty finding my wallet, my credit card was missing. Meanwhile my stepmother-in-law comes over and offers to let me run her card instead. "No, no, no, no," I say quickly, trying to deter her, having just spotted mine on the table. Too late, she has already run her card and made the purchase. Well, that was nice of her, even if it wasn't what I would have asked for. I should show appreciation. I hug her and say, "Thank you."
Walking outside afterward, I have second thoughts. Was I rude to simply thank her? Maybe she hadn't intended the action as a gift. But even if she had, perhaps it would have been more polite of me to ask when she wanted me to pay her back, and that would give her the option to be magnanimous and say it wasn't necessary. But if she had assumed I would pay her back, wouldn't it be rude of her to create an extra hassle for me that I hadn't asked for? I had told her "no" and she did it anyway. I conclude that under the circumstances, my response was adequate and I should let it go.
As I walk back in the house, behind me I hear a man's voice, distinctively low and gravelly. It is really familiar. Who is that guy? I think he must live next door; I'm always hearing that voice. I sneak a look back before going in and spot him: he is older, gaunt, with straggly grey hair. I think he looks like an aging biker or a math professor (they can look more similar than you might think!)
I continue in the house and decide to repack my suitcase, which is in disarray, when it occurs to me... wait. I have the impression that I hear that man's voice all the time, but I suddenly suspect that I only hear it in dreams. Could this be a dream, then? I realize that it is. This gives me the confidence to go back outside and approach the guy, intending to find out who he is. I would not want to so brazenly walk up to a stranger in WL, but this is my dream so there is no reason to hesitate. As I step back through the door I find myself with handful of silver rings in my right hand that I am putting on the fingers of the left. Why did I grab so many? I'm going to have to put multiple rings on each finger to make them all fit.
Only one person is in sight now, a dapper gentleman in Victorian dress walking by from left to right. He has a neatly trimmed beard, a black frock coat, and a top hat. I've always been fascinated by that era, but in dreams I've never been successful in my attempts to meet historical figures. I wonder if he'll really acknowledge being from that time period. Maybe he's just dressing up?
I get his attention and ask, "Are you from the Victorian era?" He confirms it. I'm interested now so I start walking alongside him, suggesting, "Tell me about yourself." As he begins to reply, I look more closely at his face and realize that he is strikingly good-looking. On a whim I seize his arm and pull him off the road, then push him against the door of a nearby house and start kissing him, thinking meanwhile that in waking life I would never do this with a stranger. Though taken by surprise he responds willingly. The only thing marring the pleasure of the kiss is a little piece of fingernail in my mouthóI must have been biting themóand I try to move it with my tongue so it won't come into contact with his mouth, which would be awkward. During a break in the kissing I manage to swallow the bit of nail, and the gentleman never seems to notice.
After that interlude we continue together down the street. It's odd that I so quickly lost interest in my more intellectual inquiries and succumbed to mere erotic instinct... and annoying, in that I never did get to hear the DC's account of himself. My lucidity apparently faded quite a bit in the process (it was never very keen in this dream), because it doesn't occur to me to ask again, and instead I just walk along with little further thought.
We stop at a shop whose front opens right onto the street, and the gentleman wants to buy an unusual kind of candy that I've never seen before. It is some highly-processed, artificially flavored substance that comes in brightly colored plastic packages. The package can be activated in such a way that its contents will burst out like a foam snake. This is marketed to kids as a toy as well as a snack: they can have mock battles trying to hit one another with the candy snakes, then eat them afterwad. The girl minding the shop explains this to me while showing her a green stain spot on her T-shirt from where one of the candies had landed on her. So they stain clothes, too? I look down and am glad to see that I'm wearing something casual.
FA, "Let the Right One In": I wake up and get out of bed to record the dream. I don't notice anything unusual as I'm walking across the house, but pause in confusion as I go to sit down at my computer. Where's my chair? Why would my chair be gone? Surely I'm not dreaming? At first it feels improbable but gradually I realize that I am. Interesting... well, I want to explore this, but I don't want to lose my memory of the previous dream. It is still clear in mind, so I review the events and even recite a list of key words aloud to help fix my impressions. Then I look around to see what this new dream has to offer.
In contrast to the relative normality of the house, correct in layout but more sparsely furnished than normal, the view outside is catastrophic and extraordinary. A wide frozen river of swelling ice is flowing motionlessly where my patio should be, and cascading down toward the city in the distance. Just beyond it looms a mountain of pure white ice, with a matte, knobbly texture like that reminds me of spray-on styrofoam. Craning my head up, I can just see the narrow peak glittering in the sun. Everything looks incredibly clear and vivid, beautiful and frozen but apocalyptic.
The landscape is packed with people, whose clothes provide little patches of bright color. Bodies are frozen into the river and wander in groups along its banks. The only place free of people is the slopes of the ice mountain, steep and white and pristine. As I turn my gaze from the east, where I saw the river and mountain, to the south, the view becomes more grim. A whole crowd of people outside presses right up against the glass wall of my house, looking longingly inside, their bodies almost grey with cold and frost. I feel compassion for their plight, but I'm not sure what to do about it. My house is not big enough to accommodate even a fraction of the throngs who want to get in.
The people on the left, closer to the river, were all standing very still, but as I continue along the wall to the right, the people on this side are becoming more restless, with a few actively trying to break in. Some are attempting to cut holes in the glass. I wonder how long before they'll get through, and realize that I might need to start warding the walls against them. Then I see a segment of glass fall in, and realize that one woman has just succeeded in making a hole. It is about three feet high and a foot or so wide, in the shape of a narrow heart or mitten. Before she can slip through, I aim my flat palms toward the gap and begin to refreeze the glass (I don't seem to be distinguishing between ice and glass here). After a thin layer of glass or ice manifests over the hole, I pick up the piece that was removed and put it back in place, willing the gaps to fill in.
As I continue along the wall, the situation is getting even worse. There are already more holes. In fact, one woman has just crawled inside. I pick her up like a manniquin to remove her. The crowd is too think to restore her to ground level, so I toss her on top of the others... she can crowd-surf.
I come face to face with another woman who has made a hole in the glass. "You're not real, you're not real," I protest against her attempted incursion. It occurs to me that I should respond to her vaguely threatening presence with kindness. I embrace her and kiss her on the mouth, but she is oddly inert. It's like kissing a doll. I have nothing but a faint impression of staring blue eyes... blank eyes. "You're not real. Do you understand that? The reality of you is that you're not real."
She remains stiff and unresponsive, but doesn't back down, so I try an alternate tack. If she wants to get in the house so badly, then I will welcome her. I grab her arm and start tugging her inside. At this she actually resists, telling a woman standing near her outside, "Don't let go of my arm."
This is an interesting development. "Don't you want to come in?" I taunt. "A minute ago you were clamoring to come in." The dream ends.
Updated 03-13-2015 at 08:55 AM by 34973
After much nonsensical happenings I find myself in a small store purchasing seafood. One of the items are a gift I'm receiving; I'm handed a live octopus. While grateful for the potential calamari, I notice I'll need a container. There's a slight dream skip and I'm with a man and an older woman. There's gun fire, a chase happens, I'm more concerned over my purchase and would rather ignore the distractions. A car arrives and I'm torn between this desire to protect the woman (in the dream I seemed to know her and we had an arrangement) and the desire to complete my business. Seeing that the car is here, that she's inside now, it's clearly time to leave--sadly without dinner.
I get into the vehicle and the man has joined us. The three of us depart, still being shot at, I turn around to look out the window at those shooting. While doing so I notice a book on the counter.
I'm suddenly lucid. My main concern is why my old little smelly blue and red book is here. I need to go back to get it. I begin climbing over the woman in order to get out but she stops me. I explain that I need to get that book. It shouldn't be here. She tells me it's too late. I notice we're traveling faster now, the images are becoming distorted and not so much from passing them at higher speeds but it's as though they're being bent. Sort of like what I'd expect of the behavior from black holes where objects begin to bend. I really can't go back. I'm aware that if I do get out then I remain on this side of things; and while I don't fully comprehend what 'this side of things' means, I know it's something I'd rather not do.
Resigned by my loss I find myself contemplating what happens in the last half of the book. Having only gotten half way into it I've decided the writing and story-line are rubbish, the message obvious, yet there are elements within the work that surprise me. Queen Of The Sun: A Modern Revelation, while not my typical selection is a journey I hadn't wanted to leave unfinished.
(So naturally when I woke I pulled the book off the bookshelf and onto my nightstand, ha. Not the most exciting dream by any stretch but meh. A reminder to finish that book. Perhaps the ending will be useful in some manner.)
An individual has begun speaking to me and Iím not entirely sure why. Itís (as Iíve forgotten the gender) explaining this situation that I donít pay much attention to, but what I notice is the person believes a certain woman can help. It explains the woman is a psychic. Iím not fond of psychics given their misleading methods. I consider most of them as I do gypsies; with gypsies being considerably more charming.
Unfortunately Iíve little else to do at the moment. I inform him Iíll go with him to speak with her. Iíve some curiosity in meeting the woman and Iím still hoping to be proved wrong in my own biasness of that general population.
The three of us sit at a table and I listen to the Ďití ramble on about a superficial problem. The woman appears to concentrate as she Ďtries to see the answerí. She appears to be struggling before she tells him that she doesn't know the answer. Whatís interesting here is she knows the answer but Iím unable to tell if sheís
deliberately not stating it or if sheís unable to access it. There is a difference.
The Ďití begins pleading with her and she appears convincingly apologetic. Given the sincere apology, I take her at face value that her dilemma is being unable to access the information. Thatís something I can fix. I concentrate while closing my eyes for a moment. I manipulate her mind, that Iím imagining as a lotus, and gently unfolding it until the petals are fully opened.
I open my eyes and look at her. No difference in her demeanor. Hmm. I do it again, this time prying it backwards in an unnatural way. This is when she abruptly stands, successfully knocking her chair over, and then screams something at me that I canít entirely recall, before disappearing from the room. The Ďití looks at me confused. Iíve no answer for him. I probably could of helped him with his inquiry but help is one of those things to be given when a person is unable to do something for themselves. Not when a person is choosing to be lazy.
Seeing the womanís reaction tells me she was misrepresenting herself. Whatever her reason, thereís no reason for me to remain here now.
I walk out with someone (canít recall who) and it seems itís night out. We come across a building weíre about to enter when I notice the door wedged open. I see something and Iím not sure if Iím seeing the recent past or present moment. The something is a brief image of a man walking out of the building, a school with handfuls of cash. The someone Iím walking with heads inside. I tell it not to go in there. Entering would be an unnecessary burden.
Iím not sure if Ďití listens but I head around the building planning to leave. Something errors here and Iím unable to walk any further. Like a Jell-o affect but more drunken-like. I have a seat beneath a tree and hide myself around its growing branches. Thisíll do. Police arrive at the building and itís not too long before they find me beneath the tree. I manage to pull myself to a seated position as the fog in my head begins to fade.
In the beginning of the typical questioning Iíve decided to play stupid. No reason to become involved. However as the questioning continues I evaluate the circumstance and decide to point them in the right direction. I explain Iíve seen the two thieves and describe them vaguely. The description isnít helpful so I do them one better. I get into his vehicle and sit in the back seat as we drive through a nearby courtyard. I see the pair of teens walking and easily recognize them by their eyes; the youthful vibrance I often donít see stands out in a crowd. The clothes and attitude are different, but the eyes betray their effort to conceal themselves. I point out the kids to hold up my end of the bargain. The bargain being I needed a ride away from the building and the kids shouldnít be stealing from a school. Education is a commitment to a better future and there are many other deserving choices to steal from.
A short while after Iíve spotted a man Iíve missed. I approach from behind him while heís seated on a boulder. I rest my hand on his shoulder to let him know Iím here. He seems tired, in a sense. He asks me what I think of love. I tell him I think itís a powerful tool of transformation; for both the better and the worse. He asks me if I could ever love him. His head is facing the ground between his feet and Iíd generally like to face someone when they ask these kinds of questions. Yet I sense heís uncomfortable so I talk to the empty space in front of me. I explain that I can love anything; there is a method to force beliefs and love is no different from any other belief. So yes, to answer his question I can love him. Iím aware this isnít what heíd like to hear but itís the honest answer to his question. I prefer not to lie about matters of importance.
As an addendum, to answer the question he hadnít asked, I share that I do love him and itís not from forcing the feeling. What this means is another matter entirely.
The sex club in a mansion is a maze to leave. So many options. When I finally do make it outside I take off, flying over acres of land until the designer friend calls me. He doesn't call on a phone per se, more of a telepathic connection and he's asked me to stop by. He also apologies that he's not around recently, but wanted to let me know he's still here. I change my flight path and land in the area he told me to stop by. A group of scattered statues greet me and they're all posed in humorous ways. Upon greater scrutiny I learn that he's scripted them to execute their specific interactions. I play with each set as I walk around the yard. One set is hacking the head off another with an ax before it resets. Another is being hung, I think. It's all somewhat dark and comically lewd. This is hilarious. He didn't have to do this. I know this must have taken him some time to create but I'm appreciative of the thought.
When I leave I wind up floating through a void, no colors really, just emptiness and blurriness passing by. When I emerge from the void a room comes into view. Judging by the abundance of gold and the overall decor, I conclude I'm in a temple in Egypt. There's a statue near me and in front of that is a pool of water with both a man and woman, Priest and Priestess, inside. It looks as though they've begun their evening ritual.
I gravitate toward the Priestess and just kinda fall inside her. My consciousness, as I was without a body, gravitated to her and when I 'possessed' it (is it still possession if that body was once mine?) I felt the level of awareness. Simple-minded isn't quite the right idea but the life experiences the Priestess is very limited. Though the spiritual experiences are more vast. The man next to me in the water abruptly turns and exits. From the memories of this body I'm able to reflect on my relationship with the man. We've worked together for many years and I've grown fond of him.
He tells me he's leaving this temple. I understand it to mean he's escaping or running away. The thoughts from the body I'm inhabiting are timid, I would never do such an action. He is daring and adventurous. I admire his ambition. My own thoughts on the matter is that I'll miss his presence but also know he needs to do what's right for him. I watch him gather his things when two others enter the chamber.
They prepare themselves so we have just a short time left. I rush over to a wall to retrieve a package. He says goodbye, so I stop him. I take his hand and place the cloth-wrapped package in his hand. There's some internal concern over this act. I'm aware that the item I've selected will change many events. I have an awareness of the short term future but that's not to be shared. I come to a compromise and explain in very specific verbage, "The person who discovers talc powder will become very rich." Within the package is talc.
The era we're living in hasn't yet discovered this simple toiletry, but we're on the cusp of its discovery. He takes it and runs off, clearly not knowing or understanding my message. Perhaps one day he'll truly understand, or perhaps he won't and he'll gift it to another. What he does with the opportunity is beyond my concern now. He has the tools for his success, whether or not he uses them is his choice.
Once he leaves, there's an overlay of another scene I'm seeing. The golden temple falls into the background and the man from the previous scene has left but in the new scene he returns; as a woman. Same person, different body, different era, different lifetime.
We're saying goodbye again, heh. The fair-skinned, dark curly haired woman is off chasing the dream of adventure. Just as ambitious as the prior lifetime. This time there's no gift to give, I'm just sad. So sad that I begin to cry. I'm crying because I'll never see her again, in this lifetime. She walks over to me and hugs me, comforts me. She says it's not forever, it's just a short trip. She'll be right back--a vacation. I nod her off, saying that I'm just being emotional and to go and have fun. To explain this is the last time I'll see her is something beyond her level of comprehension. Also, I doubt my premonition would stop her adventurous desires. She should enjoy the adventure, not worry over its destination. I watch as she leaves, oblivious and happy.
After this I walk around the town, the town is in Paris. There's a man I bump into here. We're somewhere along a riverbank and there's really no rush to anything. Life happens. I've read the book, experienced the passages, know the ending, so right now it's more a matter of experiencing each moment and not rushing to reach the last chapter. To just enjoy the illusion of time and delaying it.
The man I'm with has been with me for lifetimes, he's just as experienced with this cycle as I am. We have very little to say to one another. Instead we watch and learn. We feel it, again. It's bittersweet in a way. An experience to not toss away, but also one not to embrace too tightly. In our silence I'm reflecting on how he always seems to surface in each of my lifetimes. With each journey and adventure leading me away from him, he's always right there when I finally turn around. It's a comfort.
In a department store back home, joking around with a woman who'd I known at a different job. Although I really enjoyed her as a person, the entire scene feels normal, or shallow. That's not terrible but there were more important things I'd wanted to do; just can't remember what.
Woke to figure it out. Back asleep. Still couldn't remember and was too tired to stay awake.
A man appears from a black void. I stare; I immediately recognize him but can't place it. His arms are extended out to the side. He jerks his head back and his hands morph into what sort of look like tentacles. His head morphs into a gray alien head. The way he fluidly shifts forms pushes me awake.
Woke. Back asleep.
I instantly arrive back home, my entire reason for wanting to dream tonight. I'm slightly aware my arrival wasn't by my own doing. The man/alien had assisted me; an effort I know took an amount of sacrifice for him to provide. I'm grateful but don't have time to express it. I focus on a corner of the porch where I see her. I kneel down in front of her and wait for her to notice me. I smile at her, wanting to see how she is. She scoots away from me but then rolls onto her side, putting her head down. I want to touch her but don't want to disturb her too much. I call out her name then watch as her tail wags briefly. I'm so happy to be here, to see her, to be able to pet her but not exactly. An energetic petting is not quite the same but I'm able to come see her, to shower her with love and dote over her for just a moment. Let her know that I love her. More than I've probably loved most; which is sad in a way.
I'm thinking of how sad it is to see her go through this. She's dying from the inside out. Her flesh is finally showing signs of rot. She's going to transition soon and probably has no clue why she's in pain right now. I wish I could explain what's coming next, that she hasn't done anything wrong. That it'll be over soon. That I'll be here with her, on this level, waiting for her. That she won't be alone. She'll always have a home beside me. But how to explain that to a dog. I had been expecting her prior to her birth and knew I'd see her to her death. I understand it all yet it does nothing to calm my own heartache. Energy never truly dies. So the only thing that's dying is her physical body, not her spirit, but that doesn't take away from the time she's been here now. She doesn't deserve to suffer.
I know she's been waiting on me. We've always had that sort of a bond. That's why I wanted to come, because I heard her calling. I transfer energy to her as I tell her that it's okay for her to let go. I repeat myself two more times before I've grown too unstable to remain here with her. I let myself drift, having finished the visit.
Woke. Back asleep.
I'm in a house with a lot of people. Looks like we're having some sort of slumber party which would normally annoy me but I'm too drained to care. I putter around the house, looking out windows, contemplating how to gather more energy. I've given much of it away, a gift. Others are rising and looking for a restroom. There's one that I know works but it's mine and I'm not going to have mine occupied. Thinking more abstractly on this point, I've seen how the others have been treating the one available restroom; it's broken now. They're careless with themselves. That being the case, why would I provide them mine? I don't. Until they're capable of mindfulness, they're on their own.
After making it downstairs I run into a man. I observe him trying to maneuver a blocked vehicle out of a crammed parking lot. He's struggling and asks me how I got it in here. I explain that I made it disappear then reappear where I wanted it. It wasn't that deep. He needn't keep the car on this plane in order to get it out. He gives me an exhausted look, then does exactly that. We go for a walk. I task him with a child. Not sure of my reasoning behind this. Just a temporary request while I get things back in order; myself realigned. Shouldn't take long. Lots to do and the world doesn't stop spinning for anyone.
I appreciate him. I know he doesn't get a lot of this. Me. Yet he's here, present, willing. That's what counts. I hardly seem to find the words to express my gratitude. It's just one of those things I'm not great with. How does a person find the words to say more than 'thank you'. Words are so shallow, anyone is capable of producing them. Words don't capture the full emotion. I find actions to be ideal, but people are so focused on the verbal and believe so much of what's said to them instead of what's shown to them. I still don't understand why so many function this way. Yet I do make it a point to occasionally tell, because why deny them this if it's a method they're receptive to.
From the night before last:
Iím at a zoo with my best friend. Iíve brought her to work for me but sheís having troubling acclimating. The others who work for me are becoming disgruntled with her so I go over to speak with her. Iím explaining that she must work, a concept I know is foreign to her. Itís simple, really. Just be present, consider the objectives, and then get your hands dirty. It ainít that deep. She responds to me by saying that she canít do it. Itís too difficult. Sheís tired. Iím frustrated. Whatís being asked of her isnít much. I know sheís capable but sheís just being lazy. Mentally lazy. I leave the entire scene before I get on to lecturing her of doing what takes being done, being accountable, present, willing. Her laziness doesnít affect only her. It affects those who are counting on her; like me. I know this is selfish but it doesnít end there. I canít do it all alone. I donít really want to get into all of that with her, right now, she knows. Iím not going to nag her. Sheíll either do it or she wonít. She isnít a fucking child.
Iím in sea of balloons. Or metallic chips that turn into spheres. Theyíre rising from the ground in various colors. Itís beautiful but not where Iíd intended to go. I wake up to try again.
Woke. Back asleep.
A scene forms and Iím outdoors. Itís bright. Iím shouting for a friend by the only name I know him by. He doesnít show up, not that I can tell. Iím contemplating the layer Iím on and the layer he might be on. I might be close, but for crying out loud, I canít tell either way. Thereís got to be a better way of finding him in this maze of consciousness. Is he on the 3rd dimension or the 4th, maybe a 5th? The higher up we travel the less likelihood of either of us remembering the exchange. Yet it would be the more honest exchange; very appealing for that reason. Yet so difficult to bring memories back. I take a flying leap to another layer, still trying to find him.
I white out. Like a black out but, in light instead of darkness. A new sort of void for me. I find him but thereís nothing more Iím able to remember, besides his name? Iím not sure if itís his name but itís the only thing he tells me that makes it down through the layers of my own consciousness.
The sole word I bring back from the exchange and itís this. To my lucid consciousness it reminds me of Pleiades, in the sense that itís a culture of peopleóbut thereís also a notion of it being a name. I wish I could recall more.
Woke. Back asleep.
I FA in bed. Reciting ĎAsurianí to myself repeatedly. If thereís anything Iíve been hell-bent on recalling itís this one word. It will be retained indefinitely. I donít know anything else about it besides its importance. I pick up my phone on my nightstand and begin Googling the word. I find a reference to a movie on it and dismiss the entire thing as just a horrible movie impact Iíve watched earlier in the night (this was a false memory, I hadnít watched any movie).
While still dreaming, I fall further asleep, attempting a WILD. I actually do make it into a lucid scene. Iím standing on a ship with ĎAsurianí. Iím noting the small size of the deck thatís manifested, very different from what I expected; it looks so different than the movie (more false memories, FTW!) Iím simply observing, I donít think he sees meóitís just the pair of us. He runs his fingers through his shoulder length black hair as he begins calling for his dragon. Heís whistling a high-note melody, itís distinct, elegant, and completely unexpected. Iím circling the deck, moving as he moves, trying to stay out of his footpath. Iím thinking how genius this is, how he calls for his dragon. Iím surprised and impressed. I watch as the dragon arrives, I want to call it black but Iím unsure if itís just my lack of dreaming in color (as most of the dream lacked a lot of color) or if itís actually black. Iím trying to keep this memory, thereís effort on my end to experience the moment so that it sticks.
The dream transitions as a group of people begin boarding the ship. All hands on deck are preparing to sail. Even I find myself helping to launch by taking in tie-downs and ensuring nothing is keeping us attached to the dock. Thereís a large canon-sized hole on the starboard side that gives me pause but I move past that. Not important right now.
Weíre sailing as a fleet with other ships, except Iíve the notion the other ships are not with us. Weíre racing to beat them to wherever it is weíre going. During this I notice there are swimmers in the water. Deliberately. As Iím studying the swimmers I wind up accidentally in the water. Just as well--I notice the captain of our ship is also in the water. I swim closer to him, watch him board a modern dingy, with a motor and all, and grab a rope attached to that. After a short while I hear the captain and another man talking to one another. The captain is mentioning how the water has changed; weíre in salt water now. Iím tempted to taste the water, but donít. A dock forms out of nowhere and we all climb up. A scorpion distracts me until itís distracted by a child it tries to sting. I quickly pass them, trying to catch up.
Iíve lost them. I find my home but itís not the current one. Iím being distracted now by thoughts of Ďhomeí, where Iíd left my sleeping body, how to get back to it, and Iím having trouble recalling where I left myself. The more I think about this, the more I notice Iím pulling myself awake.
Quick notes: Kinda weird night. Lucid for much of it (slept for 11 hours, figuring that was the cause of it). There was a dream from a couple nights ago I didn't write because it didn't seem important or relevant; until last night happened. Given the common elements I figure I'll include it.
From a couple nights ago:
I'm following a teen girl around as I'm looking for something. She's told me she knows where it is. We enter a store, I pass a calendar. February 29 is circled. I begin thinking of how that's incorrect this year but continue further into the store. She passes me a bag in the store. It's an item for sale and the bag is filled with items I already have IRL. Except there are slight variations. One is a dream journal, just the cover design is different. Another is a like a treasure box, again with a different cover design. Other small items are part of this, crystals, incense, candles. I'm befuddled. Why would I be searching for these items here when I already have them in my other life. Do I not have them in this life? What life is this? Am I discovering them only now, in this life? I don't get it. (Though I get it now.)
I'm visiting my parents when an issue arises. My husband, from an arranged marriage, has behaved in a manner I'm not kosher with. While resolving this issue I've become worked up. Stashed myself in a room to separate the two of us, and calm myself down. The self talk involves a lecture on how not to be controlled by my emotions. Rise above that, there's a lesson in this. I regain control. Dream solidifies and progresses. This life, which has distinct differences from IRL, is being processed. I'm examining the entire situation until I finally bring the husband into a room and break it down for him. I tell him we're getting a divorce because although I understand the terms of our union, I don't accept them. I'm not a trophy. I deserve to be happy; as does he. He's upset. Another woman, in the form of my mom, is trying to get close enough to watch the exchange. I tell her to leave right when I'm done telling him I'm leaving. I'm not terribly emotional about this. I'd even go so far as saying I feel like I'm possessing another person; except in this case it would have been myself. I walk out of the room and into the kitchen where I begin planning the next steps. I leave once I've set up the rest and things are tidy enough to do so. I'm making plans for the true husband who hasn't held that position yet. A union forged from love and not convenience. An external voice tells me this is necessary; to trust what's in store. I'm responding something along the lines of 'yeah, I know, that's why I'm here'.
Woke. Back asleep.
I'm in Asia, sightseeing. Until I walk up a flight of stairs and find myself on the rooftop of an orange-red building. I'm hit with this feeling of recognition. I've definitely been here before but there's absolutely no memory of being here. I recall another recent moment where I've felt this so I stop and ponder on how this is possible. Such a strange feeling. While having a look around, I notice two men on the ground. They're searching for me, so I leave. Knowing I'm lucid I fly to the edge of the dream, it looks like a net border that extends to the sky. I'm trying to go through the net but it doesn't work. I'm forced to create a sliding door before I slip out.
They've spotted me though. We travel through a large property. Bath houses whizz by as I'm running/flying over pools of water and statues. Gorgeous property. I decide to take a dip in one of the pools. A voice is telling me to experience the water, feel it against my skin, is it cool or warm? Focus on the sensation. I follow the directions. The water is warm. I decide to get out and try the last door. It's locked. I back track.
The men chasing me are at the door. I'm cornered. The concern of being caught turns to curiosity and I'm giving up. I'd like to see what unfolds. As I get a look past the man, I see the other one fucking a girl in a red teddy. Looks interesting. Until the girl begins complaining that they can't fuck me. She's on all fours whining about how could they want to fuck me. Mind you she looks anorexic and I don't believe in doing that to a body. I'm curvy. I believe in boobs. I observe the exchange between the three of them. It's fascinating, really. I wait to see what they've wanted, if I agree with their plan, or if it's time to stop playing tag and get down to business.
The guys change their approach. We all have a seat in a living room and they flip the TV on. One of them invites me to an event, like a social function; something decent. I decline the event. Probably won't be here long enough to enjoy it.
Woke. Back asleep.
I'm back at my parents house but it's distinctly different again. I pet a dog they have IRL, but I'm sitting at a green table that I've never seen on the porch before. A neighbor grabs my attention and asks me to turn off a light near their house. I do it. Then he's helping me do something in one of the rooms. A woman walks in and I find this funny. She's asking him if he really needs to be here for this part. He's saying yeah. I turn to the woman, now recognizing her from the last dream when she was in the anorexic form (which she's not in now). On the side, I ask her if he's her ... you know ... boyfriend. I'm not asking because I'm interested but because she seems so overly protective. It's difficult to miss. I'm beginning to wonder if they know more than they're letting on because I've the feeling they've been pulling me into situations with them all night. Like an obstacle course or test of some obscure sort.
She tells me they're not together. Really feisty attitude about her too. I tell her not to worry, I don't engage is romantic ventures; her interests are safe. Not sure what I've done to earn this response from her either. In two dreams no less. I silently vow not to touch anything of hers; ever. She leaves. Then comes back. She's clearly not happy I'm around. I'm really wondering what I've done.
While sitting cross-legged in someones bed I notice I'm on a long rant of concepts I haven't much understanding of. I sound incredibly smart, just wish I knew what I was babbling about. I seem/feel very serious and passionate about the point I'm clearly trying to make. I kinda just hang out in the back of this mind while trying to understand the situation instead of the rant.
The man I'm with is pacing beside the bed. I'm trying to explain, he's trying to comprehend and he's completely missing the message. That's alright. I'm a little lost about it too. I feel the frustration in the room.
The man stops suddenly, "Who exactly are you?"
There's an eerie quietness now. No one is saying anything. Ha. Such a simple question but really, I couldn't tell him even if I knew. There's one too many inside the body he's addressing. The other issue is, a single person is much more than just their current identity. That question he's just asked is entirely too vague. Perhaps he's asking for a name. I could ramble off some names. Yet the purpose of a name is to control, summon, or lure. Those aren't things to give to strangers. We don't answer his question.
"Hello? Are you still here? Tell me--your name."
I take the reins. "No."
"For the purposes of this exchange, it's not required."
"Most likely not. I'd still like to know. It's a courtesy I'd appreciate knowing given that we might encounter one another again."
"A courtesy? Do I look like I work in retail?"
He sits on the bed directly in front of me. I can feel him, in fact, I think I recognize him. He's invaded my personal space but that does help clear things up. He explains, "A courtesy is an effort in being polite. A sign of respect for who you are. Everyone deserves that. Including the body you're inhabiting. Why is it that you do that?"
"I'm well aware of what courtesy is but there are many ways to show that. Example. I'm being courteous to the body I'm renting by not forcing it to engage in malicious acts on my behalf. I don't require her name to show her courtesy. To answer your other question, at this moment, I'm inhabiting this body because I require it as an access point."
"An access point for what?"
I'm relieved he seems to understand me much better than he was understanding the one who owns the body I'm borrowing. "An access point to you." I wait for the expected followup question.
"Why not?" I smile at him. I don't think he knows, yet.
"Can't you actually answer a question? I want to understand why you're here, what is it you want, why you feel this is necessary."
"Sure, I think I can manage an actual response. I'm here, I desire, I feel. You."
"You do know that's not an actual answer either, right?"
"I believe it is. To be completely honest, I don't know how or why I pop into places where you are. Sometimes it's deliberate, other times not. Just kinda happens and I go with the flow of it. Sometimes it's worthwhile to flow with the river than swim against it. Also, I wanted to mention I appreciate that you're able to finally recognize me. That's a huge improvement. Now these conversations can be two-sided instead of one."
"Don't you find this a bit unusual?"
"I'm sorry, that's a vague inquiry. Could you please be more specific."
"Wait. Are you real?"
"Did you not just hear my last request? Define real."
"Real. Human. Living, breathing, conscious, on Earth."
I laugh. "Uh, yeah. I'm that. Plus other stuff. Really, it's not all that important what I am. What's important here is you. The fact that we're having this conversation. The fact that you're capable of learning, absorbing, and assimilating things beyond your comprehension. You are intelligent. That's why I'm here. What if I told you I didn't chose to come here, but that you brought me here. What if it's not me who's stalking you, but--"
The feeling of disconnect begins. "We'll have to continue this another time."