Coinception

This dream once again occurred this morning, 23 August 2012. It contained some brief moments of lucidity, and was interruped when I woke up around 6 am.

We begin in a university classroom, which for some reason looks very much like a classroom in a high school or elementary school. I'm sitting in for a social studies class, on the political history of the United States or something, and in contrast to my regular courses I don't find this interesting - I find it VERY interesting. Most of my friends in my program have already left. The teacher continues an explanation. By 11 am (or is it 1 pm?), I'll be beginning my first day in Physics class. My phone rings.

The person hanging out outside appears to be me, but I can't really identify with this person, so maybe it's my alter-ego. For sanity purposes, I'll refer to this individual in the first person.

I'm doing an extreme sports stunt on a bike, not a skateboard. The scene shifts toward somewhere else. Suddenly, the police catch us, and we're denied permission to enter my next class.

I don't want to go with the cops, I think. Yet my phone prompts me to, and I enter the principal's office.

Somewhere along the line, I'm walking in a hallway on campus in what seems to be a big environment building. I suddenly realize that I'm dreaming, and begin to look around at the walls, the windows, and the students.

I drift in and out of consciousness, of sleep. The waking-life version of myself seems to be paralyzed, so I drift back into sleep, with much effort. The scene changes.

I'm in the principal's office, and a thought drifts into my mind. I think of writing these things down, to publish certain things on Twitter when I wake up, with codes B, C, and D. The D code refers to detention, while the B code is something later on in the alphabet. The D code says to the teacher:

"Am I in detention, or am I free to go?"

This is something that I picked up from a video showing how to deal with the police. Rule number one is be calm and don't be crass.

I'm given a list of options, from life in prison to one day free to whatever else. The best option, they say, is Baptism.

The official looks rather puzzled and pauses for a moment, but after a while says that I'm free to go. I remember the buildings on campus, but I never make it to my physics class.

At home, it seems that my dad has lesions on his neck, which look like cancerous lips protrouding from the base of the chin. We go to the doctor, and then suddenly I'm in this waiting room.

I remember a TV commercial about healthcare options. Even though I know trhat I'm lucid, I think it would be wrong to change the scenery while I'm walking through that hallway again. So I walk up to the reporter at the receptionist desk:

"Hi, I'm looking for healthcare options for my dad".

The reporter, who seems to be African-Canadian, shakes his head.

Flashback - in a dark cave dismantling something to the next level.

The doctor finds that the lesions are cancerous, but traditional chemotherapy would have done more harm than good. A new emerging field in medicine, nutshot oncology, has proven that these lesions are treatable by other methods.

Have a nice glass of glastnost!

Jail or Baptism?

On YouTube, the number of likes are hidden, but it's wavering around 50%. A certain scene is depicted, and the likes rise above the half-point mark when we win, and fall below when we lose. It shifts in a gyroscopic circular manner, like the Moon around the Earth around the Sun, and then the Moon will be flung away, pulling Earth-Moon out of its orbit.

"But the Moon has been around for four billion years!"

In high school, I send some people an email with facial icons for each of their respective profiles. For some reason, the guys' images are larger. I tell him not to skip class.

In social studies class we talk about "nutshot porn". That's gross.

As I walk outside my residence room in the morning, it's chilly. Yet, for whatever reason, my sweater is wet and damp.

I wake up early to go swimming.

A dream I had this morning (18 August 2012) - much vivid detail.

I was finally on TV. Not sure how it happened, but it was a 6:00 - 6:30 pm segment for children, in which I appeared in the same manner as in a YouTube video discussing the longest words in several languages.

If you message me, I'll send you the link - unless I actually become too famous and you'll know right away.

My Facebook friend, initials DL, was on the program as well. Later, I remember talking to him on Facebook about how he saw me on the program, too!

Cut. Something about a beer store.

How did they get my video, anyway? This other kid was one year younger than me, but this appeared to be some kind of educational program, as the credits rolled in, displaying our names, and that of one other teletubby-like creature.

It gave out the following messages...

MY NAME: GROW UDD
HIS NAME: GROW OLD

This was strange for several reasons. First, they spelled out a nonexistent word: udd. Perhaps they meant "odd"? They couldn't have meant the same word for both of us, considering D and L are on opposite sides of the keyboard, I thought.

Wait a minute. Does this mean they wanted me to die young?

Or perhaps, die young as late as possible?

I bent down and ate my soup. I thought about that valedictorian speech that I had long prepared, but never got to speak in front of an audience.

Sometime later, I go to bed. The same teletubby-like creatures that hosted the show were now anthropomorphic talking animals that sat on the right of a ledge and bookshelf in the corner of my room. They were discussing a most unusual subject as I proceded to sleep.

They were talking about what happens when somebody's testicles get twisted and "suffocate".

"So, a new female is created?!"

Somewhere in the voices was a hint of judgement and contempt. I thought that if I discussed a so-called 'nutshot fetish' I had with the producers of the show, they'd be upset. They were part of Family Studios, which was a spin-off affiliate program of a North American charity very similar to Focus on the Family. Both programs were very pro-life, conservative, and anti-LGBT rights.

As I was thinking about, or perhaps actually did, write about my experience on a somewhat-gay Facebook forum, the transwoman wrote back something neither demeaning nor incredibly strange. However, my instant thought or response was, "you broke me", an attribute that I couldn't have thought possible for a transsexual person, whoever he/she was.

Later, I was watching the news, or maybe being part of it. A huge storm had stirred up sand storms and haboobs in Texas, A facade of a cattle ranch being "roughed up" appeared. On the news, they said the ex-storm (or ex-low, or something like ex-nor-easter) had made its way to Japan.

This had never happened before, but this year, this was the third time. I thought, how could a storm track that way, if it was moving the "opposite" to a regular storm?

Most storms would track from Japan eastward toward Oregon, then sink south toward Texas. If this storm was heading the other way, it must be over the Arctic.

Perhaps it was 2012. Or maybe the physical year didn't exist, as the dream state was on a floating timeline.

The news then reported that, after recently 100 young boys had suddenly gone missing in Texas, most of them were found alive. The families, and the communities, were praying for the safe return of the rest.

The next segment featured a part about the abortion controversy. It showed a woman with brown tape over her stomach area, the commentor saying, "the crosses heal the wounds of young women who were photographed having an abortion in the woods".

Previously, there was a case where a pro-life activist photographed the aborted fetus of a woman who had aborted her child secretly in the woods. This time, women all over the country who were not pregnant were wearing this brown tape. Any time a photographer passed over, they were instructed to openly state they were not pregnant, and question what the hell the photographer was doing there.

And they did. The photographers were apprehended by police and security, and taken away.

As both a Liberal Christian and a Christian Liberal who was often pro-life but in major cases also pro-choice, I was torn about this segment. First, I thought, "were these crosses false prophets"?

My mind then wandered over to a kitchen when I was five years old, but that was a facade again. I thought about pro-life protesters in the streets, and what was to become of them.

I remembered a certain video on Godvine about how anti-abortion protesters convinced a mother not to abort her baby. Would these now be a thing of the past? Would pro-choice people now try to convince teen pregnancies to abort rather than say, seek adoption?

I asked somebody, "would there still be anti-abortion protests? Or are those protected indefinitely under the constitution?"

On the pro-choice side, why were these photographers mobilizing in the first place? Perhaps they were agents of a new Romney-Ryan administration that opposed planned parenthood?

I personally supported the rights of the women who were violated. What about people who needed an abortion to save the life of the mother and then were violated as they were filmed, filed and reported?

Browsing through my Twitter, I saw that Pastor Terry Jones was following me. I doubted whether I should follow back, as this was apparently the pastor who had led the Qu'ran burning controversy at the Dove World Outreach Center in Florida.

I wake up at 4:43 am. Proceding to write these down now, and after another half hour I fall asleep again.

I remember nothing about what happened.

Sleeping again from about 8:15 - 9:15 am.

Only remember the ending this time. George Shrinks was on a mission somewhere, and saved a girl on the sub-11th floor of a basement. Flying in his Zoopercar, he stages a show.

His mom is holding a secret egg. However, she wears it on a fake turban-like mummified head gear, which George then unravels and pulls out the egg.

The contents turn out to be a prize. Apparently, a group was awarding us more than $8.26 million for defending gay rights.

O...K...then.

In this dream, I took note of what I remember each time I woke up. Thus it is far more detailed than most other dreams, even though the memories faded pretty quickly.

Watching a video, or maybe being part of one, on Youtube. This Asian girl with long hair was talking about "How not to get kicked in the balls", or rather WHY. However, at the 4 min 26 second mark, she says "how not to get kicked in the budget".

My old bedroom, chart paper at the side, window at the back, cupboard at the right. I see a white poodle trying to get into the video scene. It gets stopped every time, getting mad, but I grab it, apparently unafraid.

The dog tries to enter the scene from a pile of paper, first from the side, and then diagonally. Unsuccessful after the third or fourth time, it runs out the door. Somehow, this dog rather resembles a human character.

In fact, this Dog, or whatever it was, was to be charged with a repeated drunk driving offense. Later, it runs, or rides, up a sheet of white furled paper.

There's an announcement from the blue. Somebody has a love problem. No idea where those details went, but now, they're gone.

A random part of my journal: "consp. causes". No idea what it indicates.

Flashback: March 16, 2009. Security camera video shows terrorists plotting to bomb a concrete pillar, somewhere in southwestern central Ontario. Maybe it was near Alliston, we'll never know.

I'm sitting at the site of a swing, or some-other place. This sandfly, part wasp, part fly, tries to fly into my nose. I ward it off, but at the last minute, it stings me, there is a feeling of spray being injected into me...

I wake up, and go on Dream Views.com. Writing about my dreams, my thoughts are rather clear, the transitions vivid, the meaning intact. Yet soon I realize this is not to be.

Waking up for real this time, it's about 3:45 am. Take some notes, go right back to sleep.

I'm in a music room. Some girl takes my flute, initials AR, and throws it toward the percussion area. It's broken, and I say "FUCK". This flute cost $70, or maybe $430. I'm afraid to tell my dad, because he bought it for me.

Sometime later down the line, there's an engine. Perhaps I'm examining how it works - I don't know.

I'm reading this book about the physics of weather, a possible flashback to my poorly-done presentation about the physics of artificial trees that absorb carbon dioxide. As usual, the book goes into a computer model simulation.

This time, there's talk about global warming not being real. Of course, I strongly disagree with that position. I see Greenland melting, refreezing, melting, refreezing again, rising and sinking above and below the waves. There are vivid colours here: sky blue, navy blue, orange, red, green, tan, yellow-green, yellow with a tinge of green, and brown. Near the Gulf Stream area, enveloping both Greenland and Iceland, a supervolcano destroys the land there in a big oval fashion. Iceland is first to melt, its people unaware, or possibly no people there at all. It's a Supervolcano, much like the Siberian Traps during the Permian-Triassic extinction era.

I wake up. It's 6:45.

There's a vivid drawing of some sort, the details now gone. Examining currency, bills, coins and American $1 bills. They're everywhere.

At my house, time is frozen, and my mom is here. Suddenly, somebody knocks on the door, and gives her two white pills that smell very industrial. She takes them, and weird effects happen. We try to lower the dose, so that days two to five will require one pill a day only. No idea what it's for. She bikes outside, and I see some guy skateboarding outside my window, and they go down the street and it's a sunny day.

Talking to my teacher now about French. Apparently one of the old teachers came back, and nothing happens. Or rather, there is not much to talk about, or maybe, there is.

Waking up again, and it's 8:20.

At some kind of zoo, or maybe it's a video game facade. I'm on the side of the lizards, but there are also mammals, lions and penguins. For some reason, the lizards decide to hide out on the near-vertical wall, bathing, possibly reminiscent of the sphenodontians, the last remaining species being the tuatara of New Zealand. Am I responsible? 30-40 % go extinct in a few hours. A travesty.

Later, some kind of land mammal, forget the name. Every day, the lions jump over them, and a few of them get injured and die. We try closing the door, we try negotiating with Atlan, and nothing happens. Later, we storm the beach, and head outside. Success.

I'm here at a beach party, outside now, warm weather. I ask this girl whether she's still interested in going to prom with me in a few months. Yet I get completely tongue-tied, and she ditches me, preferring instead to go with somebody else. Maybe those promises weren't meant to be kept that long. For a year.

Waking up again, but forget to check the time. Guessing it's around 9:30.

Something happens prior, no recollection. An old acquaintance of mine is standing in front of me, making me read some stuff that I find objectionable. Yet I read another text, this time in faux Greek, meaning the letters are greek, but the words English. I read this with no difficulty. Yet I leave out a compound word. The text turns out then, to be about spicy food. Oh no!

Wake up for the final time now - it's 11:00 am. This dream had had at least twenty-five parts, none equal.

This dream appeared to be a compilation of random memories. Yet, it seemed to fit together well.

At a hotel, the scene appeared rather sepia. I was standing atop something, dropping aerodynamic paper helicopters as part of some experiement.

Later, I was applying bug spray to myself, at a cave park that I previously visited in Eastern Ontario. The spray then became lotion, and it smelled of DEET, mixed with mint, which someone noticed. Perhaps the smell was another facade.

Soon, the scene merged somehow smoothly so that I was at my computer screen, which had an odd colour, resembling jelly in another facade. I soon wake up to the sound of my 8:15 alarm.

I get up, and turn off the alarm, heading back to sleep on this early morning day. A notable lack of woman, my dream had.

After some dream, I wake up - this would have been a WILD if not for the dream in between. At my cupboard of computer stuff in my computer bedroom, the digital clock was on the left side, when it was usually on the right. My computer was on the right side rather than the left, and for some reason it had a computer tower at the corner instead of being a rull laptop. I press the button, and turn off the computer. The tables start shaking, but it doesn't seem to be an earthquake.

Suddenly, the digital clock slides off the cupboard, although there seem to be no papers nearby, and falls onto the table below - SPLAT. I then ask my dad what that shaking might be.

Waking up for real again, I notice the shaking comes from a washing machine downstairs. So then, I fall asleep.

Somehow, I am still at my computer, browsing Facebook. A close friend of mine uploaded a song onto my Wall, which had not yet become a Timeline, as requested by January 31. A blurry, beige, bluish sepia scene was the thumbnail music video.

This was apparently a heavy metal rock song, created by my friends' basement band a few days ago. Its title was "i'm not gay". The subtitle: Few talk about the title. Another friend who I recently added and was a guitarist, liked the video.

Surely there would be comments on a video of this sort on a site like youtube, but there were none confronting the title, only one congratulating the uploader. The green like bar reached 1 like on the video itself.

Another friend had posted a status, initials RM, in the ticker tape on the right-top of the screen. His profile picture was someone drumming, but it was actually a close-up of the socks on top of the bass kickpedal, which was weird. Even weirder, the status said: It always rains when I'm looking at the screen.

Even weirder still, I woke up. Looking outside, the roof was white, and it was snowing, not raining, which was a pleasant thing to see.

Logic does not begin or end with fag - logic begins at hello.