• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Exploring the Unconscious - Bob's Dream Journal

    I've dreamed very vividly and surrealistically since I was young as I can remember. Unfortunately, as I got older my recall started to fade. I started to lose a source of inspiration, awe, adventure, escape, and creativity - luckily I found DreamViews and was given the information I need to start re-developing this ability. This DJ gives me the ability to develop my recall and maintain a continuous journal whether I'm at home, at work, staying with friends, whatever.

    And it ain't private, so maybe somebody else will get a kick out of it too!

    1. Acrobatic butt-painting (the butts are doing the painting)

      by , 08-09-2011 at 04:44 PM (Exploring the Unconscious - Bob's Dream Journal)
      Inspired by 'America's Got Talent', one of my first dreams was about some wily buddies of mine doing an acrobatics stunt show. We were all in a matted red-floored arena. We were doing acrobatic butt-painting: not that we were painting butts, instead, we were painting WITH our butts.

      It went like this: buddy number one would dip his butt in paint, and then do this super diving board stunt that would launch him hundreds of feet into the air. On the way down, he'd smack his painted butt onto a canvas and make a big ol' paint smear. Everybody would start cheering. All things considered, it was very impressive and clearly required some highly exacted and specialized skill. Go him.


      Next thing I know, I'm in the mountains with my Dad, and we're hunting these cool birds that look like gray pigeon-parrots. I'm shooting a shotgun with dense rounds of bird shot. The gun is hard for me to handle at times, and at one point I get afraid of its weight and power in my hands and discharge it into the gray mist of the forest. Soon after, my Dad and I see one of the pigeon-parrots fly towards us with what seems to be a broken wing. We go to rescue it.

      While standing next to the pigeon-parrots, the scene morphs, and Father and I are on a truck in a small mountain road. Some guys in the car next to us ask about the way to Camp Chawanakee, an old Boy Scout camp I used to go to every Summer.