• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Sailing the Noosphere

    1. Fragments for September 2-3 2010

      by , 09-04-2010 at 07:09 PM (Sailing the Noosphere)
      1. I am in jazz band, and my bass skills fail me rather epically.

      2. I'm drinking with my friends, in what amounts to a rehash of the truth-or-dare game from the night before.

      3. I visit a shooting range with my dad and pop off a good deal of rounds fairly accurately. I note that instead of my meager 22 rifle, I could be renting Uzis and machine guns! Before I can do so, a whole busload of deaf and dumb people pour out onto the range. They talk in sign language to each other and begin to shoot.
    2. Fragments from June 16 2010

      by , 06-17-2010 at 07:03 PM (Sailing the Noosphere)
      1. It's nighttime. I'm sitting around drinking something with a friend, when suddenly I start to feel pretty bad. The dreamview switches to a close-up of my digestive tract, which shows itself to be swollen and red and close to exploding. This continues for an uncomfortable time, showing different organs, when the view suddenly goes third-person. My body explodes, splattering blood on the dream "camera" and causing an elderly couple to comment on my rudeness.

      2. My brother, my roommate, and I are chasing the girls who live at my research station around the halls. Eventually they start to fight back, and I do parkour down the (IRL nonexistent) basement stairwell to hide from them.
    3. "Gazooks!"

      by , 06-11-2010 at 06:11 PM (Sailing the Noosphere)
      My dad and I are walking the streets of Covington, KY, and talking about what I call "middle English" slang after he uses the word "gazooks!" However, in the dream I understand "middle English" to be Wild West or Industrial Revolution times. I make a joke that we're going back to 1865, like the cast of "Back to the Future" visited the frontier. Exactly after I do so, we find ourselves walking in the Covington of the past. It looks like a typical frontier mining town, and we go on a quest to find his grandfather who is living there. We interact with the bums to find this information, and eventually are led to a saloon. Both of us sit at a rather uncrowded long table, and I request a hard cider. The pretty barmaid smirks at me and says "Take off your glasses, Mr. Mafoy," with the unspoken assumption that they make me look younger than legal drinking age.