• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    maboroshi

    1. sherlock lewis; doll face and girl face; bad guy's teddy bear

      by , 12-19-2011 at 03:01 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was with two friends, a man and a woman. We were walking into something like a high school gymnasium which had been done up for a flea-market-type sale.

      Just inside the heavy metal doors was an aisle of tables, running from the left to the right, and extending across the width of the gymnasium. The tables were all divided into booths, and were filled with people selling things.

      It seemed like my friends and I had gotten to the flea-market sale pretty early. There weren't many other customers around. Some of the vendors may still have been arranging their booths.

      My male friend split off from my female friend and I. My female friend was a black woman, short, a bit overweight. She had short hair arranged in little spikes or braid-like twists.

      We walked toward the back, right corner of the aisle. My friend stopped and looked at some shirts. They were long-sleeved shirts, warm for the winter, in kind of flat green and cream-white. I may have fondled a square, paper tag that may have said something about how the shirts were made of hemp-cloth.

      My friend now stopped at a booth with hats on it. She picked up a blue denim hat with a short, round brim. She put it on and asked me how she looked. I thought she looked pretty cool.

      I thought I'd fool around and try on a hat as well. But my friend chose a hat for me. She said I'd look good in a cowboy hat. The hat she gave me was huge, almost like a caricature of a cowboy hat. But both sides of the brim were also pinned to the crown of the hat -- so the hat kind of looked like a hat-taco.

      I put it on anyway and looked at myself in a mirror on the back wall of the booth. I thought I looked like a complete goofball.

      I think at this part I started to hear voices in my head. They sounded like the voice of Sherlock Holmes. I may have been reasoning something out, as if I were Sherlock Holmes.

      Suddenly I was in a room. I was one of three children. But I wasn't in the body of whichever child I was.

      The children were actually more like young adults. They were probably in their late teens and early twenties. There were two boys and one girl.

      One of the boys was Sherlock Holmes. The girl was a really pretty, fair-skinned girl with kind of slim eyes and long, pale-brown hair. The kids all had the style and attitude of kids from the late 1970s.

      The kids were all up in one of their bedrooms, which was a kind of small room up on a second or third floor of a mansion. They'd each alternately pace lazily around the room or lay down on the bed, roll around on it, etc.

      The kids were all speaking with each other. Sherlock Holmes still seemed to be reasoning something out with himself. The girl was at least teasing Sherlock Holmes, if not the other boy. All three kids were lazy -- and they knew it. But the girl took a little bit more pleasure in teasing the boys for being lazy.

      The girl had to leave. Then the two boys were together. But then one of the boys had to leave. The other boy was by himself.

      During this time the boy had transformed from Sherlock Holmes into Lewis Carroll. As Sherlock Holmes, the boy had been just a regular boy, or young man, from the 1970s. As Lewis Carroll, something about him changed. He actually took on more of a late nineteenth century appearance.

      But the boy was still lazy. He may have known that the girl had gone off and found a job. And the other boy may have at least gone looking for a job as well. But Sherlock/Lewis was still just sitting up in his room.

      Sherlock/Lewis was thinking of what kind of excuse he'd give his parents (with whom he was still living) for not yet having found a job.

      He thought he'd make up something about being a writer and needing his time to write. In my mind's eye I saw a huge, yellow pencil laying across the bed with the boy. I thought the writer excuse kind of made sense. After all, if this was Lewis Carroll, he was really a great writer.

      But then Sherlock/Lewis, looking out the window, started thinking about what his dad would say about him. I could hear his dad's voice in his head. Eventually the dad's speech took over the narrative.

      The dad, who was like Bill Loud in the show An American Family, was narrating a letter that he'd written to his wife. His wife was out in some foreign country, maybe France, taking care of some business.

      The dad wrote his wife that he'd gone to visit the daughter at either the location of her new job or at her college campus. Either way, the daughter was in a new town. But this was a town where the dad and mom had met and fallen in love. So the dad was happy to go back there.

      There was a view of some part of a campus, I think, in this town. There were a lot of trees. But it was winter, and the trees were all leafless. The branches struck me as being very black.

      The father wrote/narrated a very sentimental statement that began with him sighing, "Ah!, the memories..."

      Now there was a strange view of painty-looking or animated-looking flowers, huge, five-petalled, yellow flowers, blossoming on the barren branches. The father made some kind of statement about the first experience of love between him and his wife, and how it was as delicate as trembling petals.

      Dream #2

      I was watching a documentary. There was a black and white photograph of two girls from a wealthy Italian family. The girls were sitting on the left rim of the pool for a big fountain, which was out on a gravel driveway leading up to the family's huge mansion.

      The photo was really blotchy. It was apparently taken in the 1940s, though the girls seemed to me to look more like they were from the 1970s, or even the present.

      The girls both had really long hair, which was very straight and plain. And the girls wore very short denim shorts, or denim coveralls with very short leggings. Both girls had a skinny look about them, though neither really was skinny. They both looked a little dull and overly spoiled.

      The view now closed in on the girl sitting higher up on the rim. This girl was the older sister. A narrator now explained that the older sister had a disease, which had made her life very tragic.

      As the narrator continued, the view now became active and in color. The view had shifted away from the fountain and onto the gravel driveway. It was the present. But things at this estate were pretty much the same as they had been in the 1940s.

      There were a few old men standing out by some junk in the driveway. It looked like it may have been a ticket booth and some other equipment related to an old-time carnival.

      The narrator's speech had continued. The narrator had explained that the girl had never been particularly pretty. But as she reached her seventeenth year, she'd begun to blossom into a more beautiful girl.

      But at this time, the girl was suddenly struck by a disease which was like a cancer, eating away at her face. The disease was combatted once, and the girl was okay. But then the disease came back again and again, until a few years later, the girl's face was completely ravaged.

      One of the men in the gravel driveway now walked over to the right side of the road. There was a big structure there. It was made of concrete, and it was as tall as the man. It was shaped like the plastic head of a baby doll. And I supposed that the face of this giant, concrete baby doll was turned away from me, so that I only saw the back of the head.

      The back of the head, though, had a huge chunk smashed right out of its center. The chunk revealed , through a thick, ragged window of concrete-white, pebbly casing, the hollowness of the doll's head.

      I assmumed that there was probably a similar smashing in on the front side of this gigantic baby doll's head. And I assumed that this head was a metaphor for the 1940s girl's head. I realized that this was what the disease had done to the woman.

      Dream #3

      Some anime. The main bad guy was a beautiful-man kind of figure: skinny, elegant, with long, purple hair. He was a very sinister kind of character.

      But it turned out that the reason the bad guy had been causing all the trouble was because somebody had taken his favorite teddy bear away from him. He assumed the good guys had done it. So he was causing all kinds of trouble for them.

      I thought this was a really disappointing reason for a bad guy to be bad. It cheapened the whole story. I couldn't even figure out why good guys would fight this bad guy at all.
    2. mailboxes broken into; dying woman; cleaning room; sexy doll on full house

      by , 12-17-2011 at 06:24 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Ugh! I let my dumb weekend chores spiral out of control. So I'm not making this entry until now!

      Just as a note, the second dream was the closest thing to a nightmare that I've had in a long time. It wasn't very different from many of my other dreams. But, for some reason, it upset me a lot. I could hear myself screaming in the dream. I may actually have woken up screaming.

      Dream #1

      I was heading into the lobby of either an apartment building or a hotel. I had just moved out of my old place and into this new place. The lobby was really wide, but with a low ceiling and a kind of old, worn-out look. There was a little front-desk-type area at the back, right corner of the lobby.

      I headed toward a small room on the left wall, near the front of the lobby. It was the mail room. There were a lot of aluminum mailboxes along the wall on my right side. But a lot of the mailboxes were busted open. Someone had broken into the mailboxes.

      I was arfraid for my own mail. My mailbox may have been open. I had some mail in my box. But it did seem like something was missing.

      I looked at my mail as I walked out of the room. One piece of mail was for some other apartment. The other piece may have been a door tag from FedEx, like what they leave on a door when they come to deliver a package, but the person isn't hme.

      I thought I would either give the piece of wrongly delivered mail directly to the person it belonged to, or else give it to the person at the front desk. But I was kind of afraid to let anybody know that the mailboxes had been broken into. I didn't want the people who'd broken into them to cme after me.

      For some reason I was getting ready to leave the apartment. A FedEx man was coming in at the same time. But instead of asking him about my package, I told him that someone had broken into the mailboxes.

      Dream #2

      A documentary about the effects of some sort of nuclear accident, probably in Russia, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't Chernobyl. The documentary was following the lives of people in a small town near the accident.

      The people had all been exposed to radiation. But they hadn't been moved away from the area where they'd been exposed. Most of the people seemed to be women.

      There was one woman in a bedroom that kind of looked like a hostpital room. The woman was by herself, with her baby, in the room. But the room had multiple beds (or low cots), some of which could be separated from each other by dark blue curtains.

      The woman was walking back and forth with her baby cradled to her chest by means of some kind of blanket. The woman wore a dark green t-shirt and may have been pushed up above the navel of the woman's taut belly.

      A narrator may have said something about how the woman was really ill from the effects of the radiation. Now the woman was laying in one of the low cots, holidng her baby close to her. The baby may then have changed into a three- or four-year-old girl. The girl may have been tending to the mother.

      The view now closed up on the woman's right arm, which was loosely hanging off the edge of the bed. A nurse administered some kind of injection into the woman's arm.

      But either the woman was so sick that her body couldn't take any more medicine, or else the injection had been administered wrongly, and now the woman's body was rejecting it. The woman's vein swelled into a square about 3 cm per side. Then the woman's heart stopped beating.

      I couldn't believe the woman had just died! I was now in the room. I don't know where the daughter was. I don't know where the nurse was. I thought I was myself, by myself.

      I was panicking. I didn't know what to do about the dead woman. I still didn't want to believe she was dead. I thought if I found somebody, they might be able to save her.

      So I used my cell phone and called somebody who I thought could help. I was now out in what I thought was the lobby for a small, narrow apartment complex.

      I got a hold of the person, probably a man. Suddenly I had to admit to myself that the woman was dead, and that that was what I was going to have to explain to the person. As I started talking to the person, I looked at myself in the mirror.

      I was a woman, maybe in her mid- to late-twenties. I was either white or Latina. My skin was pale. I had kind of sharp, almost squarish features. I wore some kind of pale, powdery foundation, and my eyebrows seemed to be pencilled in. I also had my hair in tight braids, which seemed almost like dredds, except with a bunch of tiny tangles coming off of them.

      I then walked toward either a blank wall or a white wall with a plain, white door on it. As I did this, I told the man I was speaking to that I had been the one to administer the shot to the dead woman.

      When I suddenly realized or admitted that I had been the one that had killed the woman, I broke down. I was crying. But my voice was more of a terrified moan, which eventually became a low-pitched, loud scream.

      Dream #3

      I was in "my bedroom," which almost had the shape of my bedroom, but which was almost empty. There were some boxes along the back wall, near the left corner. But I noticed they had been pushed from the wall.

      I was afraid that somebody had been in my room. BUt I was more worried about putting the boxes back into alignment.

      When I looked closer, I noticed that what had probably pushed them out of the way was some really heavy box that had managed to slump over toward the wall in such a way that it wedged in between the other boxes and the wall, pushing the other boxes aside as it slid along the wall, down toward the floor.

      I picked up the heavy box. It was apparently a Christmas package I'd received. I figured I'd just need to open the package now and put the contents wherever they belonged in the house, so that the box would stop interfering with the order of my other boxes.

      I opened the package. A wine bottle was inside. I pulled it out. The green bottle was encased in a white, plastic square, and it had a white, plastic, pull-off top.

      I must have done something with the bottle. But now I was standing near the front wall of my room. The lights had been on before. But now they were off. The only light in the room was coming from my hallway or bathroom.

      I was looking at my room, proud of how clean and spacious it looked, now that I'd organized things so well. But I now noticed that I had a cluttered pile laying a meter or so away from my back and right walll. The pile was mostly clothes, though there may also have been a blanket or beanbag chair.

      I sighed, annoyed that I'd have to clean this stuff up before I could truly think I had a clean room. I lifted up a maroon, button-up shirt made out of some flannel-like material. I folded it. I folded another piece of clothing. I eventually worried that someone, somehow, might discover that I also had female clothing in this pile.

      Dream #4

      One of the very first episodes of the TV show Full House. Almost everybody in the cast was different.

      The house itself also looked a lot different, like a mix between the house in Growing Pains and the house in Family Ties. There was a staircase on the left side of the room, near the front door. At the foot of the staircase was a big piano.

      The dad and Uncle Jesse had kind of secretly worked to buy a doll for the middle daughter of the family. (Uncle Jesse may have been John Stamos, but the dad wasn't Bob Saget.) The two men wanted to make up for something really aggravating that had happened to the girl, and had probably been their fault.

      So the two men left the doll sitting on top of the piano. The room was now empty, though I had an image in my mind's eye of the older daughter, who was the same person as in the regular show, except that she had really straight hair and wore eyeglasses.

      The middle daughter now walked into the house. She was different from the daughter in the regular cast. She saw the baby doll laying on the piano top. Surprised, she rushed to the doll and picked it up. She walked up the stairs with it.

      The doll wore no clothes, probably had a white, cloth body, and plastic limbs, and was either bald or had plastic "hair" molded onto her head.

      Somehow this plain old cloth and plastic doll managed to pee. She just let out a huge gush of water, getting the daughter's front all wet.

      The daughter's appearance had changed. She now looked like a "rebel girl" or "skater girl" kind of TV show character. She cried out, "Oh, god! You peed all over me!"

      The daughter needed to clean herself off. But now the whole scene started over again. But everything that had already happened was still remembered by the characters.

      The doll was placed, by an unseen erson, on the piano top. For a moment, the camera view closed in really tight on the doll, who seemed to be surrounded by a tiny square of little, wooden bars, almost like a mini, doll-sized railing that had been built onto the piano top.

      The daughter ran in and picked it up, this time without any surprise or excitement. The daughter may also still have needed to clean the pee off herself.

      But now the daughter, walking up the stairs, started saying things to the doll like, "Oh, yeah! I really like you! You're really sexy!"

      I wondered why this girl would find a doll so sexy, and I wanted to see more, to see howthis relationship would develop between the girl and the baby doll that she found sexy.
    3. japanese doll; alex' friend dies; haunted bathroom; cemetery drive; chicken mouth; old co-worker

      by , 11-23-2011 at 04:19 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was walking through the hallways of a school, possibly walking faster than usual. I headed into one classroom, off to my right. The classroom was big and bright, partly with morning light and partly with fluorescent ceiling lights.

      The front half of the classroom seemed empty of desks. But right at the front were three microphones, spaced about two meters apart from each other.

      One or two girls, maybe around twelve years old, may have been standing at the microphones. The girls may have been dressed very primly.

      The girls were going to give some kind of presentation for this class, which was a Japanese class. The presentation would be some kind of recital, maybe even a mini-concert.

      One of the girls may have asked me about my presentation. I realized I had to give one, too, even though I probably wasn't prepared.

      I was now "upstairs," in some room with my sister. The room had furnishings in it like might be found in a bedroom or living room. My sister may even have thought of this room as her bedroom.

      My sister was getting ready to go "downstairs" to school. She was going to bring a baby doll to Japanese class, as a kind of show and tell project.

      My sister had the baby doll sat up on the floor. The doll's legs were stretched out in front of it. My sister put a diaper on the baby doll. But the diaper was huge on the doll -- so huge that only the doll's head poked out.

      I didn't want to make my sister feel bad. I wanted her to feel like she'd done a good job of putting a diaper on the doll. But I may have made some joke about how the doll looked.

      I may then have told my sister that she should use a smaller diaper on the baby doll. But I couldn't think of what kind of diaper would be appropriate.

      Dream #2

      An episode of the 1980s TV show Family Ties. Alex Keaton was in the kitchen. He'd just heard that one of his best friends had died, right after leaving Alex' house. Alex was upset. He made some kind of sarcastic comment in a shaky voice.

      Alex was about to leave the house, either to go to the hospital or to go to the funeral. But his family stopped him. Alex' mom Diane told Alex that the family would leave the house together. Diane told Alex he wasn't to blame for his friends death. So he should just relax and go with his family.

      Everybody in the family left the house. They were all -- including Alex -- wearing hooded sweatshirts or hooded parkas. The hoodies were all in pale or pastel colors.

      The family was now in front of a door to what looked like another suburban house. I knew this wasn't the hospital or the friend's funeral. I was wondering if Alex' family wasn't purposely trying to keep him from going to his friend's funeral.

      Diane again, while waiting for the door to be answered, reminded Alex that it wasn't his fault his friend had died. So, she told him, he should just relax and take his time in getting to the funeral.

      The family all now walked in through what looked like a mix between a fancy restaurant and a living room, lit by natural light coming in through a big window at the back of the room. They all sat down -- probably at a couple different tables.

      The family was waiting for some kind of social engagement, possibly having to do with someone who would give the family money. I knew this had nothing to do with Alex going to see his dead friend at the hospital or funeral.

      Dream #3

      I walked into a school bathroom. The walls were a brown-painted concrete, and the walls were of glossy, pale-tan, wide bricks. The light was a greenish fluorescent. I had to walk through a tiny passage to get to the main area of the bathroom.

      I felt like I was all alone. But then I heard somebody's voice. It sounded like the person was annoyed that I was in the bathroom, so they were trying sigh and breathe out loudly to make me feel bad for being around.

      Out of nowhere some faucet on the wall to my right sprayed me with a bunch of water. It only hit the outside of my right leg. And it was only on for a second. But the force of the water was so strong that my pant leg was soaked.

      I was a little afraid. I didn't know how the water could have turned on and off, all by itself. For some reason, I assumed that only a poltergeist could have done something like that. (???) So I now thought the bathroom was haunted.

      I walked back into the main area of the bathroom. There were toilet stalls on the back wall, to my right, and either urinals or sinks on front wall, to my left.

      I heard the man's voice sighing, like the person was annoyed that I was here. Suddenly one of the bathroom stall doors slammed violently shut. I had been looking toward the urinals or sink. When I looked at the bathroom stall doors, they all looked equally shut.

      The slam of the stall door, though, had been so violent that I was sure the person wasn't just annoyed, but was really angry that I was around. I was pretty sure I was going to get attacked. I thought the person had hid in one of the stalls so that when I went to a stall, I would get surprise-attacked.

      I looked under the doors of the stalls from a distance. But I didn't see any feet. I thought the person may be hiding from view by standing on the toilet seat. But I suddenly felt like there really wasn't anybody here after all.

      I thought I would use the bathroom. But I felt like if I went to the urinal, I would get surprise-attacked while my back was turned. So I just decided to leave the bathroom.

      I walked into a school hallway. I was walking really fast. My pants leg was still wet from the faucet spraying on me. I didn't want to be seen like this. I wanted to get to wherever I was supposed to be, so I could just sit down and hide my leg.

      A black man, who I guessed was a teacher, came walking down the hallway. He was a bit taller than me, skinny, with long dredds covered in a hat and wearing a white t-shirt. As I walked past him in the hallway he seemed to try to indimidate me in some way or another.

      I got toward the end of the hallway. There were a couple of fat, black women, who I also thought of as teachers, gabbing with each other in the hallway. They saw me and seemed to peer at me, as if they were thinking of some way to bother me.

      A really pretty black woman, also a teacher, I thought, in a purple tank-top and tight blue jeans, walked down the hall. She got directly in my way, so I moved all the way to the right, out of her way.

      But she got back in my way. I walked really fast, figuring I'd just have to bump into her if she didn't move. But she got out of the way just in time so that we only brushed against each other.

      I was kind of turned on by how smooth, and slightly muscular, the woman's arm was. But the woman only seemed to be annoyed that I didn't try to get even further out of her way. I had been right up against the wall as it was!

      Dream #4

      I was in a National Park with my family. We were at the visitor's center, which was a complex of one-story buildings and a long, narrow-parking lot surrounded by a Southwestern kind of forest of pine trees. It may have been late afternoon -- the sky was dim and silvery grey-blue.

      My mom's old boyfriend, N, oversaw this park. He was, apparently, going to be busy doing some stuff with my mom and the rest of my family, like showing them around the park. So either he or my mom asked me to take care of something for him.

      My job was to take an urn with the ashes of somebody who had just died to a cemetery in the park. The person who had just died may have been a friend of N. But it may have been N himself. (???)

      So I took either the park-owned pickup truck or N's personal pickup truck and drove it down some wide path in the park to get to the cemetery.

      The pickup truck was really big. But the path was wide enough to accommodate two of these trucks, like a two-lane road. I kept to the right side of the road, as if I were driving on a regular road in the US.

      The path was asphalt, but it also had a coppery, gravel- or cinder-strewn look to it. On either side of the path were dense stands of tall, leafy shrubs.

      A white mother, tall, blonde, and pretty, though with a kind of worn-looking face, was walking back down the path, back toward the visitor's center.

      The mother's little girl, maybe two or three years old, had come toddling up ahead of her. The little girl wore a black dress that didn't go much farther down than her waist, and exposed a big diaper. The girl's blonde hair was done up in a top-knot, or a ponytail on the very crown of her head.

      I had to brake fast to avoid hitting the little girl. But I stopped in time. The little girl ran off to the left side of the road. The mother called to the little girl and seemed grateful that I politely stopped and didn't make a big deal about the little girl running all over the road.

      I drove on a bit more without encountering anybody else. I was proud of myself (???) for not having hit the little girl. But suddenly a gnawing suspicion came into my mind. What if I'd actually hit tons of little girls with the pickup truck so far -- but the truck had been so big, and the girls so little, that I hadn't even noticed?

      I now came on a group of black people, mostly fat women. They were spread all over the road, talking and laughing with each other. I kept to the right side of the road. But now they all veered over into the way of my truck!

      I pulled as far over as I could -- there was now a shoulder of grass to the side of the road, and I was trying not to hit that. But the women seemed to be trying to "spook" me into driving into it, by getting in my way.

      I decided to just stop the truck altogether until the women passed. As I did, I twisted the truck (or else the truck slid as it braked) so that it took up half the road.

      The women saw that I wasn't going anywhere. So they'd either have to walk onto the grassy shoulder or move over to the left side of the road. They all moved out of the way of the truck. I started driving again. But as the women passed me, they all gave me the evil eye.

      I drove on a bit more. I was now kind of worried that those women would sic some men on me to "pay me back" for having made them move.

      I just wanted to get to the cemetery and take care of my job. But I realized that I didn't really know where the cemetery was. I hoped it was close. But I didn't know if it was going to be far down the path, deep into the forest.

      And, I thought, once I got to the cemetery -- if I were even able to spot it -- what would I do there? Would someone be waiting to take the urn from me? What was I supposed to do with the urn?

      I thought I might even have to "bury the body" myself. I imagined myself having to dig a six-foot-deep grave. But then I imagined that there was already a hole dug in the ground for me, and that all I'd have to do was fill it after I'd put the "body" inside.

      I came up to a fenced-off area to my right. I could tell this was the cemetery. I stopped the truck on the side of the road.

      I looked at the cemetery through the pickup truck's window. The area was a well-groomed lawn about the size of a football field. Through the middle of it ran a concrete path, about the size of an average sidewalk. In the center of the cemetery was a huge, concrete column. The lawn was dotted with flat, plaque-like grave-markers, most with colorful bouquets placed on them

      I opened the car door, as if I were getting out to go into the cemetery.

      Dream #5

      I was somewhere -- possibly in bed! -- eating a chicken drumstick. I was eating it in some weird way, like taking swiping bites off of it, so that I'd bite down at the tip of the meaty part and then tear down all the way to the bony tip.

      But in one bite I'd rubbed the greasy joint of the bony tip against the left corner of my mouth. I was disgusted. I could feel that the corner of my mouth and a good section around it were now all gross and greasy.

      I got really panicky and decided I needed to go wash my face off right away. I couldn't seem to get enough motion into my body, though, to do this, and I just got more and more panicked.

      Suddenly I "woke up." I sat up in bed in the dark. I knew the whole "chicken leg" scene had just been a dream. But I still felt really gross, and I still wanted to go wash my face.

      But all I could manage to do was thrash around in bed, going from a sitting position to one where I was half-crawling and half-laying, facing the bed.

      I somehow managed to look at my alarm clock. I saw that it was only 2:37 AM. I told myself I should really be getting back to sleep.

      Dream #6

      A view of my old co-worker, DC, possibly as he stood over me while I sat at a desk.