• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Lucid Dreaming Silliness

      by , 01-23-2019 at 06:13 AM
      Morning of January 23, 2019. Wednesday.

      Dream #: 19,028-02, 19,028-03. Reading time: 2 min 54 sec.

      I am listening to my music with headphones. I listen to the same (fictitious) track twice in a row. It is about three minutes in length. I notice how soft the snare sounds (with no attack, that is, as soft as an organ). There is a lead synth that almost forms words and phrases, the last phrase sounding like “dance with me,” the overall effect seemingly caused by modulation. (Otherwise, it is like a reed organ with a precisely controlled wah effect.)

      The setting seems to be the Cubitis house (unseen since 1978), though I do recall that I am married and have children. I start to wonder where my second-youngest son is. I know that Zsuzsanna and our two youngest children went to the library. I walk around calling his name, but there is no response. Finally, I hear my oldest son (from behind his door) say that he is in his (my oldest son’s) room. He had been playing a computer game.

      Although my oldest son looks somewhat like himself (though nothing is rendered correctly in dreams to prevent false associations with waking life other than with interconsciousness threads), my second-youngest son has a “face” like coin-operated binoculars. It takes a few seconds to realize this oddity. “Oh, I am dreaming,” I explain to them. I describe how I know I am dreaming because of his face, mostly noting how his eyes could not be as such in real life. From here, I walk back into the lounge room, which is now more like our present home.

      There is a vague sense of wariness even though I am aware I am dreaming due to an unusual sound to the north. I consider it might be an airplane that might crash near or onto our house (which would be autosymbolism of the waking process concerning vestibular dynamics similar to a typical falling start). That is not the case. I watch various lights and shadowy forms move past the windows (which are factors of liminal space division between dream self and conscious self). I soon wake briefly, but again enter sleep.

      I again start to look for my second-youngest son. I try to open a door, but he pushes it back, and I realize I am dreaming. The house is a distortion of the Cubitis house but changes to our present home in a short time.

      I go out to our front yard. (There is no fence as in waking life.) It is nighttime even though I am aware it is daylight in reality. There are still strange sounds coming from the north. Three unfamiliar people walk toward me, continuing south. I consider that I should talk to them because they may hold threads of the interconsciousness and have something informative to say. Their appearances are unrealistic. Their faces do not look like possible human faces but are also not threatening or eerie. I focus on talking to one unfamiliar man. The sounds to the north are coming from a (fictitious) train station. He does not make much sense. He says something about espionage regarding the trains. They continue on their way.

      I walk east down our street, but the houses are not as in waking life. I summon Zsuzsanna for a love-making session. I use the porch factor to enhance my dream. When I turn about to continue east, I come to a fictitious open area where there are elevated train tracks above a mostly featureless field. There is a false memory regarding something about the man I talked to mentioning that the “king of light” was near here. My dream is extraordinarily vivid at this point.

      A young Sam Neill walks by, with his usual questionable smile, and I suspect he is the preconscious simulacrum showing up to wake me. Several additional men walking from the north, though all unfamiliar, also enter the open area. Sam Neill and the other men are all seemingly railroad workers. I ask them some questions about where I am and if there is something I need to know. They do not say anything of interest.

      As suspected, they all walk toward me to shake me into vestibular system correlation (or to coalesce) to reinitiate my consciousness. Instead, I wave my hand, and all the men go flying back through the air before getting close enough. After effortlessly doing this several times, I decide to wake on my own.

    2. Hyper-Tactility

      by , 11-08-2018 at 08:43 AM
      Morning of November 8, 2018. Thursday.

      Dream #: 18,952-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 63.

      I become aware in non-lucidity of being in an unknown room in semidarkness. Marilyn (half-sister on my mother’s side, deceased) is watching something on a big screen. (I do not recall that she had died in February 2014, and I had not seen her in real life since February 1994. She appears as she was in the 1960s.) It is not discernible at first. A slide projector and another device are near me. The image on the screen is mostly sky, but there is a fuzzy pale rendering of a broadcast tower. I make some remarks about it. (Eventually, there had been some unusual thoughts about which times near the end of the year that Marilyn had been alive and when she had not, which makes no sense. My non-lucid dream self must have forgotten the definitions of “death” and “life.”)

      Over time, I turn a dial on the device and the image of the broadcast tower becomes clearer. Soon, the imagery changes and is taking up the entire screen as a lattice of a broadcast tower. Simultaneously, my dream becomes more vivid. I realize that I can now create and control imagery, but I am not yet lucid.

      I bring about the imagery of a tunnel to my right. It is holographic and about four feet up from the floor. It is a corrugated metal culvert pipe. My cat Smokey from over twenty years ago comes through, and I pet her. I explain to Marilyn what cat it is even though she would have known. There is something within my mind about summoning a denizen from the nexus, the space between dreaming and waking, which the cat represents. I realize that the broadcast tower was a deliberate creation to augment the dynamics of my current conscious self identity in the dream state and so I enter apex lucidity, where the dream state is wholly mine. Looking at the broadcast tower lattice, it now appears to have pieces of pillow stuffing in equidistant patterns in certain corners.

      I summon a young Zsuzsanna as when we first met in 1994. She shines with internal energy. The tangibility reaches hyper-realistic forms, indistinguishable from waking life other than being more defined than would be possible in reality. We indulge in making love for a considerable time. There is a point where she floats above me, glowing internally, and rushes at me, this stemming from deliberate anticipation. There is a notion of a vampire theme (in a role-playing context, though horror movie scenarios have remained difficult to make as I have gotten older), initiated by typical lucid dream state frisson, but I cannot sustain the concept, as my thinking skills are too active.

      Certain levels of apex lucidity are such a different experience and level of perception and control it is like a different level of existence. The broadcast tower of enhancing the dream state seems as viable as the opening of a door (or opening a wall like a door) or the use of a staircase.

    3. Total Freedom in Lucid Dreaming

      by , 09-19-2017 at 03:19 PM
      Morning of September 19, 2017. Tuesday.

      In the first part of my dream, in the first non-lucid segment, I am in a typical scenario where I am in a bookstore (or what is firstly perceived as one) and looking at various comic books and graphic novels. This goes on for a long time as I gather a stack together to keep. The books are unfamiliar, thus new to me, though some are implied to be older (as far back as the 1970s).

      At this stage, the personified preconscious is present as a younger unfamiliar male. Curiously, he is painting, as if there was also an art studio here. It is not much bigger than A4 size and lying on the table that I am sitting at eventually. It seems to be a landscape with flowers in the foreground.

      I tell him how I had painted, with a paint-by-number kit when I was a boy, two skulls. I explain how they were two singular portraits of skeletal pirates, shown from about the chest up. (This is based on a real-life event and thus atypically, is a real memory.) He said he had never heard of them. “Oh, they were quite popular,” I reply. I then go on to describe how my older brother Earl had started a very large paint-by-number of the Mona Lisa, but had never finished. (This was also a real event, from the early 1970s.)

      Eventually, I decide to walk out of what now seems like a second-hand store. I have a stack of graphic novels and comic books at least a foot high. However, it seems confused with the free bookstore, where (in real life) there is no one present other than the patrons and one is trusted to trade books of equal value on their own. A cashier, an older unfamiliar female, stops me by asking what I am doing. She is at a counter to my right. Apparently, I have to pay for the books, possibly a lot of money, which I do not have on me, which I tell her. I also protest in that I tell her I had left food on a previous visit. It does not seem to matter to her. I still apparently have to pay for these books now.

      I take out my wallet and the contents of my right pants pocket and see that I have only coins, which I place on the counter, which has now suddenly shifted to the opposite side of the room and farther back from the entrance of the store - a subliminally willed (non-lucid dream control) attempt at reinduction, that is, I had consciously but subliminally willed the counter back from my dream’s implied exit point as well as shifting it from the right to the left, as right is more typical of waking symbolism orientation. (The checkout of a store symbolizes a specific level of emergent consciousness as a common liminal space end marker in my dreams, fully understood as such since I was very young. This does not mean every dream ends shortly after a checkout is rendered, but it does indicate a precursor to an expected shift in consciousness, not necessarily full wakefulness, though that is often the case).

      The preconscious factors had transmuted from the artist (which symbolizes potential lucidity, though my non-lucid dream self does not realize this) to the elderly female cashier, though an unfamiliar male with a beard joins her on her right (the same orientation Zsuzsanna and I are presently sleeping in). The other male looks at my coins. Three of them are unusual in that they are mostly featureless other than having an embossed circle on them. “These are tally-hoes,” he says. This seems to mean that they may not be coins for buying something but possibly for use with public transport, or perhaps of little value. (Of course, “Tally-ho”, here an absentminded association with tallying up the total price as in “tally whole cost”, is here also a codeword for the waking transition analogous as the dream self hunting for the fox, which represents the precursor to coalescence back into conscious self identity and critical thinking skills or cleverness which the dream self does not typically possess.)

      From here, my mode of non-lucid dream control increments. I decide to leave the store with the books anyway, by teleporting and phasing through the entrance door without opening it (another form of subliminal reinduction, that is, even though I do not know I am dreaming, I deliberately manipulate it, a very common state of in-dream awareness for me).

      Still, they are heavy to carry, but I do not mind that much. It seems to be late at night. I notice that the moon is of an unusual appearance as a number of unusual clouds encircle it. The moon imagery is within the blue sky even though the rest of the sky is dark. Understanding that this image of the nighttime sky is absurd, I now become fully lucid and I decide to actively change and sustain my dream.

      The first act I perform is to joyfully throw my books onto the ground, as there is no sense in carrying them (or to be weighed down by them) in the dream state. I feel physically lighter and very happy to realize I am dreaming due to lifelong understanding of taking full conscious self advantage of this state. I enter apex lucidity and decide to create a park and have a sustained and augmented sexual encounter with Zsuzsanna. After this, I will it again. Parts of my body are “buzzing” with pleasure and our climaxes are extended (probably due to the Tetris effect from so many real-life events). However, I eventually shift into a different form of lucidity, where my dream is so realistic, that my dream self starts to question if my real physical body is somehow walking around (which of course is a ridiculous thought, but this has happened in past lucid dreams of a higher and sustained form), so I decide to initiate waking to find that I (that is, my sleeping physical body) had not moved at all. Still, there is something about the bliss, freedom, and even perceived safety of apex lucidity that is hard to describe.

      Updated 06-09-2018 at 06:31 AM by 1390

    4. Uncursed

      by , 09-11-2015 at 03:11 PM
      Morning of September 11, 2015. Friday.

      In my dream, I had been making love to Zsuzsanna in a semi-lucid state and suddenly feel a bit more perceptive than usual in such a situation. She looks beautiful and goddess-like. I tell her that I “brought her here” as an experiment and for her to look around the setting (even though she has already been present in many dreams about Cubitis as well as La Crosse). Outside, I see a beautiful garden and layout. There are unrealistically large coleus blumei everywhere (instead of all the huge prickly pears and ugly caterpillar-infested red canna lilies that were eventually practically everywhere in reality prior to my family’s move back to Wisconsin), some in large plant pots placed in perfect lines along the shed and parts of the backyard. The beauty of the imagery is astounding.

      There is a strange “division” of time. Even though I am my present self on one level, “my” house is otherwise empty (other than my own manipulation of the setting and “preserving” of how it was before) and supposedly in the distant past. Lisa’s old house immediately to the south, however, is still technically “cursed” and empty, and the outside covered with several layers of mold and old vines, parts of the front porch blocked up with concrete blocks (and mostly as it presently looks now in real life). I want to look in the house, but my wife does not like the idea. However, my motive is pure and to confirm that the house is in complete ruin and unfit for a human being to even be within several feet of. I do not even care that people apparently cannot enter and leave with their sanity intact. I feel good about the idea of an empty ruined house covered with mold and vines next to “my” in-dream home. It makes me feel alive and happy and with an enhanced sense of privacy.

      Somehow though, we end up in town. I seem to be on my own for a time. I do not recognize anyone (even though they are around my age or older). I am in what seems to be a small store. An older male is seated on a chair near the entrance. Even though I do not know anyone in the immediate setting, I ask him if he remembers me. He has no idea who I am. I tell him that I will travel back into the past, meet him and be his friend for a few months, and then come back to the present and ask him if he remembers me then. He seems to agree to this odd concept and arrangement, but it still does not work. He then does not even remember what I had asked him the first time around (before I went to the past). I become annoyed and leave.

      I eventually find myself in a tavern. There are quite a few people sitting on bar stools. One of them looks like a very old version of Lisa, perhaps about seventy (which makes no sense as she is younger than me). Her parents look like young teenage versions of themselves even though they are still her “real” parents. Her “mother” says that she has to come home and her “father” does not even want to look at her, though just tells her to come back home while even blocking his face with his right arm for a short time. Not many want to look, apparently, because her face is extraordinarily distorted. I notice that her mouth looks quite bizarre, her teeth two times longer than they should be and metallic as well as being at various random angles. I do not question either the “impossible mouth” or the teenage parents of a very old lady (even though I had been semi-lucid at the beginning of my dream).

      Eventually, I am distracted by the behavior of the “parents”, and decide to heal a few people in the area. I go outside and see the same male I had talked with earlier. From here, miniature clouds of soft blue fire float and waver upward into the air from my hands and this is supposed to be “restoring” elements of the town and people somehow. The male seems to become a bit younger (or at least healthier in overall appearance) and more cheerful.

      Updated 06-18-2018 at 05:33 PM by 1390

    5. Lucid Overdrive

      by , 08-14-2015 at 09:31 AM
      Morning of August 14, 2015. Friday.

      My dream starts in an unknown building which seems to be a two-storey halfway house for both troubled and homeless youths and adult recovering alcoholics. Richard B (have not seen him in over twenty years) is leaning out a window on the second floor and hammering nails into the outside of that window frame for weatherization and is being filmed for some sort of instructional video. (I am not sure why he is doing it from the inside rather than having a ladder set up on the outside; it would be more feasible, and in fact, to complete the job would be impossible from the inside.) I clean up a room fairly quickly and there is also some painting of at least one room going on.

      At one point, I am lying on a mattress in a large room. I get the impression that my mother (deceased) has kept me awake all night from moving potted plants around and doing other things (such as preparing business letters), which is problematic, as I am too tired to get up and go to some sort of school event or other scheduled meeting (though I am aware it is near the last day of school). However, I am also aware that my going to this event is not necessary or I may be wrong with what I am thinking as I may not have to go after all.

      Later, I seem to be about twenty years old or younger and am in a room where the house mother (a male that seems to be my foreman from my old Ford Taurus manufacturing job) is writing on a chalkboard. (A “house mother” is typically a strong stocky male that oversees a halfway house.) He has written on the chalkboard (in cursive handwriting) a message concerning about seven or eight new tenants. I read the writing and note that it starts with “Let us all welcome the new tenants, two of whom are from the Karaoke and Lansing tribes” and this is followed by about seven or eight surnames including mine being about the fourth one. I do not sharpen my focus to read all of it, so it is probably not relevant to remote viewing (although the term “Karaoke tribe” actually does exist, oddly enough - which is apparently a group of people who go around singing in various venues and based in La Mirada, California, which I had not known of previously).

      Later, I am in the same room, but only one other tenant is present other than the house mother. I say fairly loudly and clearly, “I am going to test if this is a dream.” The two others do not seem to mind. I focus and, while standing, lift both my knees up and hover in the air, rising to the ceiling in eventually a standing position. “Well, it looks like this is a dream,” I say casually, and the two others nod, smile, and agree.

      From here, we all fly out from the building through a window on the second floor. However, I fly too close to the building and bang the right side of my head on the eaves. It does not hurt that much, but I feel a strange vibration, like my head is a bell and has just been rung. I note that the others have flown off elsewhere.

      When I fly around, I am astounded by the beauty and clear detail of the fictional setting. I then start to think, well, it is time for an outdoor romantic interlude. I fly down near an area where I notice a younger version of my wife in a turquoise bikini, though there are two young males around that may be her younger brothers, though they do not seem familiar otherwise (in other words, not resembling any of her real brothers). An older chubby lady keeps coming out of the house and going back in (and Zsuzsanna does a couple times as well). I am not sure why my wife is seemingly living here at the time. The lady reminds me of a young version of Clara Peller (from the “where’s the beef?” commercials). Eventually, I take my wife behind a shoulder-high hedge that runs parallel to the house’s property line on the right side of it, but annoyingly, the other three people keep coming out and randomly walking around the hedge. I try to shoo them away, but eventually give up and just do what I had intended. Briefly, my wife seems to transform into a part of the hedge and back again which seems a bit strange, but I do not focus on it, and I fly off again shortly after fulfillment (which is quite visual).

      From here, I explore another building with amazing clear details, seemingly on the second floor again. I walk by a room that has a low table (about knee-high) that has an image with a teddy bear on it (and there are many other clear details). It looks painted or like a very large decal. The image is quite complex and I am almost certain in afterthought that it is the print of a postage stamp (though I could not find any image close to it anywhere). The teddy bear is in a sailor suit (blue with thinner white stripes) and there is a lot of blue and beige in the image including a beige border. It is sitting near other toys, including a pull-toy of a duck. Exploring other rooms, the visual clarity is almost overwhelming. (My wife reminded me of a cross-stitch design she did similar to the image that was on the table.)

      After all of this vivid imagery and flying around and sensual movement and sharpening my focus at least four times throughout my longer dream (with a strange concern about my in-dream breathing at one point, where I have to stop and catch my breath a couple times), I decide to let it go, as my head is starting to feel a bit in “overdrive” and I wake immediately.
    6. Romance Redux

      by , 04-05-2015 at 10:05 AM
      Morning of April 5, 2015. Sunday.

      I already knew this many years ago, but once again a “popular” dream myth is exposed as just that - a myth - this being the one where you supposedly only dream about vivid sexual encounters if they are not presently occurring in reality. (Besides, common sense would dictate that the Tetris effect would render that idea as ludicrous.) Not only that, the level of conscious dream creation and control is almost a hundred percent save for one unusual distortion.

      In my (first) dream, I am, for some reason, focused on a room on Loomis Street, the one with the second refrigerator and which was used both mainly for storage boxes and my last sleeping place before moving to Australia (as well as where I read all the letters from my wife before we met). Though I was last there in early 1994, I recall how my older sister still had at least a couple quarter-filled bottles of shampoo from as far back as the 1950s as well as a stack of old “Dig” magazines from the 1950s. My sister called it the “junk room”. In my dream, this room is far more cluttered than it ever was in reality - so much so, it is impossible to walk through it on the floor. It begins to dawn on me that I am dreaming. Oddly, instead of stabilizing and enhancing my dream and taking control as I often have in the past (even as a toddler), I decide to wake up and look around (without moving in reality), which I do.

      During this short wakeful period, I start to make my next dream, which will start in the same location but then change to our present address on W street. After a short time, I am back in the “same” dream, more lucid and with more vividness than ever. This time it is raining indoors. The rain is extraordinarily refreshing and I revel in the sensations for a time as I climb up onto a stack of cardboard boxes on my way through the room. Eventually, I leave this room through a fictional door, either teleporting or simply going into the front room of this house by way of a typical dream composite.

      From here, I “summon” my wife, who appears automatically at about the age she was when we first started writing or a few years younger. We indulge in passionate kissing and embracing, the sense of touch “accelerated” (in the manner that all senses are in dreams at times, including internally glowing enriched imagery, augmented “impossibly loud” audio, blissful “smells as simultaneous breathing”, and other perceptions not possible in waking life). The only distortion is, when I am holding her from behind, a “hollow pocket” appears within my dream’s rendering; sometimes in her upper back, sometimes in the air - though this does not distract me from reaching my peak. This seems to represent the tiny degree of control that is lacking in my dream creation and continuity. However, I keep “sealing” it (in an automatic mental sense), whereby it fills itself in somewhat like fluid, like a three-dimensional holographic dynamic recess (spherically inverted) sealing itself up from some sort of minor “glitch” of consciousness - like a “blind spot”, perhaps, but more in line with my view and not always on the periphery. I see this as an environmental “flaw”, not related to the form of my wife - more like a superimposed partial “mini-portal” that I do not place my hand near at any point. Still, it may also be a vague association with “hollow of the back” or even the phrase “holler back” (as a typical in-dream orphaned pun).

      Even though we had indulged in making love in reality just a few hours prior, my dream seems to increase my desire and awareness and even seems to “reignite” and increase my physical stamina (almost to a point of disbelief considering I was already just fulfilled), something I cannot help but puzzle over other than my dream self consciousness (in some incarnations) being more viable than the conscious in some ways (certainly not in logic, critical thinking, or even common sense, but more relative to bodily control, physical capability, and cellular function).

      Affirmation forms, including “Thank you for telling me when I am dreaming”, “Thank you for making me aware of when I am in a dream”, and hundreds of similar phrases, seem to have almost fully integrated into my normal thinking processes, although I still like to experience non-altered or “unscripted” dreams.

      Updated 12-10-2015 at 09:17 AM by 1390

    7. Trigger to Full Lucidity - The Guinea Pig Tells Me So

      by , 02-09-2015 at 01:26 PM
      Morning of February 9, 2015. Monday.

      For quite some time I am looking at old family photographs on my computer. There is one part where there are also videos below the photographs, several full-screen ones, but columned down the screen, all playing at the same time, which is a bit annoying. Still, I manage to learn of an unknown (fictional) teenage girl having been a friend of the family for a long time. Meanwhile, I realize it is a bit cold and the front door to the apartment is open (though we live in a one-family house in reality). The heating is working but I think of telling my wife about the open front door instead of just closing it. (It is the opposite in reality - too hot and with a fan on next to the bed.)

      The unknown girl’s name is Stella Womack. This is likely a typical dream distortion, in this case, of “still a woman” (the name being completely unfamiliar to me otherwise though there are people with the name in reality).

      Some sort of intense in-dream mystery seems to build. This girl had photographs taken numerous times with members of my family and at a few different addresses we had lived. Somehow, something is not explainable, yet I do not become lucid over this nonexistent person having been photographed and filmed for so long. Perhaps my memory has failed and I had somehow forgotten about her. I decide to talk to my wife and find out more about all the photographs. Perhaps I had somehow just not seen any of these photographs and thus was unaware of her all this time. In the last image I see, she is standing in the kitchen holding a guinea pig and there is also a small dog on the table. Oddly, she has her mouth over the head of the guinea pig, but not so it would be unable to breathe.

      My wife is lying in bed and I walk in and talk to her about this Womack girl. I remember another photograph of her standing in a kitchen. I clearly see all the hanging utensils and other details. My wife seems uncertain about why I seem confused over the photographs. She suddenly shouts “you’re dreaming!” From here she either becomes, or is replaced by, a human-sized guinea pig with its jaw hanging open and with wide overly large glassy eyes (with the impression that it was the guinea pig that had yelled and “died” or became completely still). This image remains completely “frozen”. Even though it feels as if I am wide awake now, as “real” as reality, I also have a strange awareness which is almost like coming out of a fog. (This is at least a partial result of the “thank you for telling me when I am dreaming” meditation - but to where it is now a part of my normal thinking - yes, all it takes is simple thinking, as with anything else, which transforms into actual belief and automatic responses over time - though certain mental patterns and “abilities” seem to take over twenty years to hone perfectly with light three-minute affirmation sessions throughout every day, many thousands of which I developed over time since childhood.)

      Becoming fully lucid, I wander off into a typical random “let’s have sex” neighborhood - fully aware that I am always the maker of all my dreams (both lucid and non-lucid - something I have accepted since I was very young) - and easily rip the front doors off the first house I come to and throw them into the front yard behind me. Three perfect copies of my beautiful wife are lounging around in the living room. There are at least two other people around, somewhere in the house, but I ignore their presence at first. Obviously, full passive cooperation follows as I sit down on the couch and have one at a time over what seems about an hour. Only one copy is wearing reading glasses, the pair she has used only rarely in reality. Another copy is several years younger.

      At one point, another male walks out from the hallway and is standing behind the couch, almost like some sort of brainless Sims character meandering about - as I sense no intelligence or consciousness as I do with my wives. I do not really feel threatened or judged but I am somewhat annoyed by some sort of incoherent muffled vocalization on his part (he seemingly represents the typical imposing nature of everyman) - so I somehow fling my arms backwards, grab him by the shoulders, fold him into a paper airplane, and fling him back into the hallway.

      For seemingly about twenty minutes, I relax in my dream between sexual acts, cheerfully admiring my dream’s environment, sitting there and contemplating how amazing it is that I feel exactly the same as I do when awake (though this dream is far more vivid and with more conscious “depth” than typical lucid dream types - as I am in complete “automatic” control and focus throughout). I look around the room. There is a small bedroom on my left side. The hallway on the other side of the room is in front of me. The couch (near the center of the room) faces away from the front door. At no time does the room change size or change in any other way (as is typical in non-lucid dreams and even some lucid ones).

      I look up and behind me and see at least four large silver wind chimes hanging from the ceiling; the same direction as the couch is oriented but arranged over the length of the room, north to south. They are crescent moons and five-pointed stars. The ceiling reflects the very slight motions of the wind chimes perfectly, both in the cast shadows and the silvery reflections of each star and crescent moon, which captures my attention for a few minutes, it is so amazingly beautiful and bringing a deep sense of peace. I briefly focus on how it is possible for the movements to be so accurate. In fact, I deliberately study the reflections on the ceiling caused by a particular wind chime and watch the very slight movement which is rendered exactly on the ceiling in shadow and light simultaneously - just as it would be in reality. This pleases me and I amazed by the correct details. I could sit here admiring the designs for hours.

      I indulge in lovemaking three times before the telephone wakes me up in the middle of my third climax. It is a sudden shift from what seemed like an alternate reality - but the speed at which my in-dream awareness drops and “breaks” and then rises again as I wake gives me a slight headache. The first lovemaking is “normal” but the second (in reading glasses at first) involves a delay as she is wearing at least two layers of very sheer white cloth over nearly her entire body. It takes a bit of time to “scrape” the pieces off into various small shreds and the visual detail, both bodily and concerning the cloth, is extraordinary - I do get most of the first layer off - still, I lose patience and climax on the outside, still seeing her darker pinkness through the transparent but grid-patterned cloth. The third act involves the youngest version coming back from the bedroom (though she had been in the living room earlier) and this one gives oral - the beginning being almost like a “vacuuming” effect on me and with the enhanced “tickle” and eventual beginning climax - but then the telephone rings in reality.

      In my wife’s dream, she was looking at lady’s pajama pants with stars and moons, wondering if she wanted to wear them - not shared dreaming but still a linking element.
      Tags: sex
      lucid , memorable
    8. Enhanced Kissing and more

      by , 01-22-2015 at 07:22 AM
      Morning of January 22, 2015. Thursday.

      Of all the “experiments” I have done in my life to influence, enhance, or alter dream states, I have ultimately decided that simple thinking is the key. I have tried a particular focused form of thought enough to know it is the most powerful technique, especially when preceded by “thank you for…” (without even needing belief in a deity). Just listening to something does not seem to do much unless it is with my own special technique and even that has certain limitations in certain states. Needing to hear something seems to limit certain states (plus, I have experienced a vivid lucid state where external sound and its influence is non-existent), likely because a part of the mind is still “grounded” in a particular way. (Once again, I should mention the lucid dreaming fiasco of years ago where I entered the most vivid dream state possible with a shorter audio loop, though once in my dream, solely tried to find the source of the sound to turn it off - the very meaning of “irony”). So what do I do that works? Three-minute very subtle mental affirmation meditations (not spoken aloud, just actively thought) throughout the day and night (sometimes in closer clusters), watching the clock and using an addend of four but only ever counting them as three minutes in my personal journal. In this case, it added up to sixty minutes overall.

      In my dream (and the ones which followed) I find myself in a full-body awareness that is no different from being awake other than the senses being enhanced and the depth perception intensified. This used to puzzle me - but I attribute it to being “closer” to one’s internal awareness in sleep. I have never had the slightest concern (as some people claim as possibility) about differentiating from the real world and a dream when awake - and in a vivid lucid dream, that concern is pointless anyway, so yet again, typical mainstream dream literature fails to impress me or even make any sense.

      I find myself in a dream environment in a larger room that I cannot identify, though it is similar in familiarity to (but much larger than) the larger southernmost room in the Loomis Street house. I am sitting comfortably on an armchair facing east. As with another recent dream, the increased sensuality, almost to a point where I would otherwise think it impossible, seems the most “automatic” and natural of all dream states, almost as if all nuances of my dream are “instantly surrendering” to a core subliminal whim. In fact, all I do is lift my arms up a bit and my beautiful wife materializes in front of me (only her head at first) and she bends down to indulge in passionate kissing with me for quite some time. The sense of touch is probably double that of reality and I am also amazed by the solid nature of her form.

      This is followed by making love on the floor, from the side and from behind, but holding ourselves up with our left arms, in some sort of otherwise physically impossible situation (well, at least for me). During the climax, I notice (as I have in several other dreams) that my wife has sparse reptilian scales around her hips and bordering the small of her back, which does not bother me. However, I soon take this into a forced scenario out of habit, relating to what I feel happens often in non-lucid dreams; that is, the dreamer forcing certain possible conflicts possibly regarding a need for increased “pulsing” energy as such for whatever reason (again, for example, maintaining the knowledge but vague memory that I was solely the one that instigated my own chase dreams even with dinosaurs following me, just to experience the event, although most people do not seem to remember the event horizon of when they planned this themselves, so thus you have people that believe in demons or similar entities - the case seemingly being that a particular section of memory was lost).

      My dream is not “fooled” though and I am too vividly integrated with my dream’s environment to be absentmindedly a “victim”. When I try to force a negative association for a dramatic movie-like scene, I illogically in the past tense speak to my wife, saying, “You had scales!” but she just cheerfully lightly laughs and shakes her head and levitates a bit from the floor, “rolling about” in midair and lowering herself again. I ask her “Why did you have scales?” and then I feel idiotic since it was me that gave her the scales in the first place. I try to get her to appear more aggressive, but that fails and she becomes about ten years younger and we make love again, “rolling around” in midair, at times like mists with various tendrils but I also become aware of where I am in reality.

      An odd false awakening occurs. I am in the computer room in Wavell Heights though the setup and room layout is different. My dream is almost as vivid as my previous but I am no longer lucid. There is a closed window near where the printer is. The printer seems more like an oversized typewriter. There are also what seem to be kitchen features in the room, including a faucet over the top of the printer (seemingly on the window sill as was strangely the case in our Clayfield apartment’s kitchen). I absentmindedly turn the faucet on (it is more to the right), realize that the printer is then filling up with water (almost in the manner of a sink) and then turn it off. The physical sensations of doing this are greatly enhanced and I briefly contemplate that real life is not this “close” in the sense of touch but do not become lucid again. Once again I catch myself having turned the faucet on in the semi-dark room. I again turn it off just as the water starts spilling over the top of the printer a bit. It then sits there still full, like a full sink, and I am contemplating when it could be used again. I then finally notice that the printer is plugged in, so I remove the cord from the printer itself, which is higher up on the front instead of the back area (this is likely because the back of my desk in reality is open to the path into the room as if it was the “front”). I then go to tell my wife about the event, planning on asking her to help with getting the water out of the printer by using cups, though this does not seem feasible. I do not think turning it upside-down would be a good idea, though.

      There is another false awakening, this one more intense, but ending up as some sort of parody of people who preach about the end of the world. Having heard about the supposed approaching “end of the world” in virtually endless scenarios since I was very young, any emotional impact or credibility has dissolved. I am watching a set of four smaller televisions in a column in an extended part of a doorway. Each television has the same show but with slightly different timing (this is based on a real-life event of years ago, where I was changing channels and noticed the same religious show on two different channels but one about a minute ahead of the other and I played around, sometimes getting unintentionally funny phrases with each switch over).

      There is a chubby preacher ranting before a live audience, loudly asking “What if the world ends tomorrow?” and he keeps repeating this for a short time with a terrified look on his face. I notice red flashing lights and other people crying out including a few from the choir on the stage. It almost seems possible that the world could end tomorrow but I do not feel afraid. However, he then shouts “What if the world ends the day after tomorrow?” with an even more terrified visage. This does not seem to make much sense as that would be one day later and less to worry about for a short time. However, he keeps going on like this, with his emotional anticipation illogically inverted, going into more and more preposterous and loud unrestrained queries such as “What if the world ends the day after the day after the day after three weeks from tomorrow?” seeming more and more alarmed each time, the longer the potential “doomsday” is from then - completely senseless. The audience keeps gasping and crying out to everything he says. I stand there in disbelief until my dream fades with a strong and clear attitude that it does not even matter if and when the world ends - why keep theorizing as such? This last false awakening seems vaguely influenced by the last scenes from “The Blob” (1988 version) - seen the evening before - where the traumatized preacher is shown as having the power to “end the world” from a piece of the life-form he has in a container.
    9. Pegasus Chariot and Candy Cane Canopy

      by , 04-09-2006 at 10:09 AM
      Morning of April 9, 2006. Sunday.

      How wrong can a partly scripted and incubated lucid dream go of indulging in lovemaking while in a flying chariot (pulled by bronze winged horses) above an endlessly continuing large city? Well…guess. Try it, and you will probably see what I mean.

      My wife Zsuzsanna as Vulnavia and I are in a partly undefined area. This area of course starts out as the bed in light sleep paralysis but has motion and movement over time into a cityscape. Regardless of the recent romance in reality (which automatically triggers this form of light sleep paralysis and blissful lucid dreaming in the first place), that only makes my dream’s essence more soothing and “realistic”. Well…make that in some ways.

      I look ahead at the “realistic” rendering. At times, other than the regular team, I see a few stray horses at quite a distance ahead, yet somehow I know they are still pulling our chariot (which I seem to know has the Roman numeral for six on the side; VI). (For some reason, this scene of a horse being way ahead of our vehicle yet still guiding it somehow, has occurred a few times though in different context. Added August 11, 2015; for example “A stolen candy bar wrapper and a girl with golden skin” from May 15, 2014, which also ended with a play on “golden calves” and as with that later dream, I am concerned about “how we will make the corner properly” at one point, though relating to the tops of buildings in this case.)

      There is a strange physical awareness that the chariot cannot maintain horizontal orientation, though that is more of a benefit in this scenario than a distraction. There are transitions in setting between bed and chariot, a bit like typical in-dream environmental bilocation. Mouths press together sensually and at times, there is a sense of slight vertigo at being so high in the sky. I have to check the horses now and then to make sure they know where they are going. A large flock of birds disrupts our otherwise smooth flight and wild lovemaking at one point. Well, I suppose that was almost a certainty.

      After a time, in getting closer to clock towers and whatnot, I accidentally perceive the notion of supposedly linear time and how to “properly” perceive time. Of course, in dreams, that can be an attention-altering mistake.

      We are still having fun. “Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.”

      (Who said that?)

      Of course, a chariot and a sleigh are two completely different things (try telling your dream-self that). Unfortunately, the power and speed of self-as-dream-maker thought simply does not care. Thought does not wait to check itself for logic or run self-diagnostics (other than in apex lucidity I suppose, but this is a level down from there).

      Thus we are now making love in a bed on a raised platform under a candy cane canopy in a Christmas display (in April, yet) - Gimbels I think (though not extant in reality). I am concerned about visitors though there is only one male who vaguely reminds me of Phil Silvers, but I know many more people are going to be coming in soon. My wife is up and out and in Vulnavia’s white fur outfit.

      “Have you seen Santa?” he asks. Oh, how stupid. I have to remain under the sheets, completely undressed, as I cover my head as much as possible. I feel him tugging on the sheet near my feet and lower legs. It is very clear. “Santa? Santa? Come out of there Santa.” I need to teleport back to our “real” bed and I do. (Apparently, Zsuzsanna had been lightly caressing my leg with her foot in reality in her half-sleep.)

      Update August 11, 2015. I just realized that “Phil Silvers” is possibly a play on “Feel Shivers”.
    10. "The Liberty Bell is Cracked"

      by , 09-11-1974 at 03:11 PM
      Morning of September 11, 1974. Wednesday.

      I am physically involved with a Latina classmate who is lying on her back. There are two older female classmates on each side seemingly giving her instructions as well as holding her legs so that she does not roll over or kick on a large platform holding the hanging Liberty Bell. Her blue jeans tear off like tissue paper. This takes place in the southern area of my backyard in Cubitis, very close to the southeast corner of the house. The cubic platform seems about three feet high and probably has room for about five people in side-by-side lying-down position. I am facing north.

      • This was partly influenced by the television movie “Born Innocent”, seen the night of September 10th.
      • This dream is an excellent example of a metaphorical rendering to halt the waking transition even though my lucidity is minimal. A bell symbolizes the waking prompt but because it is cracked, it is associated with the symbolic pause of the waking prompt to make the dream last longer as a result. (This is not by active dream self will but by native dream state metaphor).
      • This was precognitive in being based on the exact location of my first real intimate experience in Cubitis.
      • In real life, this classmate often wore blue jeans with a large stop sign patch on the bottom. Her last name ended in “bell”.

      Updated 04-05-2017 at 10:44 AM by 1390

      Tags: bell, sex
    11. Sea Serpent Interruptus [dual narrative form]

      by , 07-08-1973 at 01:08 PM
      Morning of July 8, 1973. Sunday.

      [I willfully enter into what I consider may be my last dream of the morning. I maintain my lucidity, perhaps only losing a thread or two of my conscious self identity. The essence of my neural activity becomes the more tangible form of water, as it most often does, and the water expands to form a lake. I welcome the presence of female genitalia, and it is rendered as a canoe, which floats on the shimmering lake in mid-afternoon].

      I look upon Lake Katherine. The area seems more rural than it is in reality. I gaze upon the beauty of the reflected trees, downwardly mirrored in the lake’s surface around its perimeter.

      [I desire female company and physical pleasure, so I choose to become fully integrated within my dream self’s imaginary body.]

      I am sitting in the canoe facing my dark-haired green-eyed gypsy dream girl. We begin to become intimate. My sense of touch is augmented. We mostly kiss for several minutes.

      [I am enjoying my dream very much. My dream girl is passive and welcoming. I begin to become distracted by some sort of ambiance that extends beyond my will. It sounds somewhat like hissing.]

      A large green sea serpent rises up out of the water on my left in somewhat of an “S” shape, hissing at us. It is not that close to the canoe but displaying at least ten feet of its body from the lake’s surface to the top of its head.

      [The preconscious is warning me that I need to leave my dream even though I do not want to. Still, the preconscious’s lake denizen is rather silly-looking, modeled after the one in the Carl Barks “No Such Varmint” Donald Duck comic book story, though slightly more realistic and menacing, though I do not feel that threatened because I am lucid.]

      I want to be more intimate with my dream girl but upon touching her, the tangibility of her forearm seems to dissipate. My dream world starts to dissolve.

      [I float horizontally and upwards, my back downwards, in the higher mental realm of dissipating liminal space, annoyed by my dream being over. I can still hear the hissing to my left. The hissing turns out to be the real sound of the garden hose as my mother is watering the front flower box in real life at this time, some of the water spraying onto my closed jalousie windows.]

      My spoiled dream is of no consequence. I married my dark-haired green-eyed gypsy dream girl on April 9, 1994.

      Updated 07-29-2017 at 03:15 PM by 1390

      lucid , dream fragment