• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    maboroshi

    1. happy holidays! -- erasing the paranormal; asking for wrapping paper

      by , 12-25-2011 at 03:21 PM
      Good morning, everybody. Happy holidays!

      Dream #1

      I was reading a book (???). The book at least claimed to be historical. It was about a group of kids who had paranormal powers.

      But the government was somehow involved with the kids. And right after the kids had any paranormal experiences, the government would come brainwash the kids. The kids would be programmed to believe that their experiences had only been dreams. Sometimes the memory of the experiences also had to be distorted, to seem more dream-like.

      I now had an image in my head. Six or so glowing, yellow spheres were all gathered in a line in a small space, like peas in a pod. All the area surrounding the peapod was black.

      (I think this last image probably comes from the Christmas Google doodle.)

      Dream #2

      I was at my family's house, unwrapping Christmas presents. I sat on the floor. My mom sat before me and to my right. My oldest nephew sat before me, about a meter and a half away from me. Everybody else was wandering all around the house.

      All the wrapping on the presents was white. There was also white tissue-paper padding a lot of the Christmas present packages. Pretty soon, in the space between my nephew, my mom, and me, there was a whole bunch of white paper piled up.

      I figured I should probably work on getting some of this stuff cleaned up before everything got so messy that we couldn't get a handle on it. So I stood up and looked for a trash bag to put all the paper in.

      I asked my nephew if he had any more garbage bags left. He said something like, yes, he had a whole bunch left. He handed me one. For some reason, I may have walked away from my nephew and my mom, as if I were going to start cleaning up at some other end of the room.

      But as I was walking away, I realized that my asking for garbage bags was the first thing I'd said to my nephew in the entire time I'd been home for the holidays! I felt terrible. I wondered how I could have been so thoughtless. I was trying to think of a way that I could show my nephew how much I loved him.
    2. small blonde woman's panties; joyce carol oates book

      by , 09-18-2011 at 01:04 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was laying down in a living room. There may have been a small party going on somewhere in the house. I was laying on the floor, possibly under a blanket, and surrounded on either side by a lot of clutter. The room was partly dim, as if near me there was a small, incandescent lamp, while everywhere else the room was unlit. Beyond my feet, in the distance, I may have seen the bathroom, which may also have been lit.

      A small, blonde woman straddled me and lay down on me. The woman was really thin, and her body was really tight. She was almost as short as a twelve year old girl. The girl wore a short skirt of some kind of colorful, plaid material and a g-string (I saw it in my mind's eye, not with my "normal" vision).

      I also had my clothes on. But it almost felt like we were both naked and having sex. The woman's body felt really good up against me.

      I thought we should go to a bedroom, so that we could actually take our clothes off and have real sex, instead of whatever we were doing right now. We stood up and walked into a room just off to my right. We stood in the bright room, before a bed that was kind of high -- the mattresses came up just about to my sternum.

      The woman and I may have been getting ready to have sex. But suddenly I got an image in my head of my friend H. I thought that since she apparently liked me, I shouldn't be having sex with anybody else.

      I was back out in the living room, laying on the floor, possibly waiting for H to come lay with me. I found some of the blonde woman's panties. There were a few pairs of her panties, just laying on the floor to my left, amid the rest of the clutter. I picked up two pairs of panties. They were incredibly small. One pair was silvery. One was white cotton. Both had a skinny kind of cut.

      I decided to try the panties on. They were so small that I could hardly get them on my legs. I figured I wouldn't get anywhere close to being able to put them on. I think I was trying to put both pairs on at once. As soon as the fabric of the panties touched my crotch, I came.

      Dream #2

      I was sitting at my table, holding a book like an old hardcover version of her book Raven's Wing, with the orange cover and blocky, black lettering. But the book wasn't Raven's Wing. I held the book closed and upright, with the back cover mostly facing toward me. The room I was in was remarkably like my apartment, except that it was a tiny bit bigger.
    3. ozzy quotes jesus; baby video store; might take book; service desk; dismissive man

      by , 05-26-2011 at 11:41 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A young version of Ozzy Osbourne reclined in a longish chair. The young Ozzy had long hair and a kind of big pot belly. Ozzy wore a long, white cotton dress that may have had a patch of black on it.

      Ozzy either said or thought, "The greatest shall be least, and the least shall be greatest." He might have said this with my voice or thought it as if he were thinking it through my thoughts.

      Dream #2

      I was looking down to a baby that sat on the floor. The baby wore nothing but a diaper and may have been playing with some toys.

      I looked up and saw that I was in a video store. The store kind of reminded me of a Hollywood Video in my hometown. There were rows and rows of shelves of videotapes. I was amazed at how huge the place was.

      Dream #3

      No vision. I had the thought, "I might take a book with me."

      Dream #4

      A black man stood before a reception desk in some kind of lobby. The desk and walls were designed to look like they were made of wood. But the color was so strange -- a kind of greyish, purplish brown that everything seemed to sink into. There may also have been a column of the same color near the desk.

      A black woman sat behind the desk. She asked the man if she could help him. The man replied in a gentle, slightly high-pitched voice, "Service desk?"

      Dream #5

      I was in a room with a woman and a man. The room felt like a hotel room or meeting room. It was bright with natural light, which was probably yellowed by the room's fluorescent light. I sat in a wooden chair, like for a dining table. The woman sat off to my left, possibly sitting in a bigger chair or possibly even sitting on a small coffee table. The man sat on a couch that seemed to be made out of white leather.

      I couldn't see the woman, although I think she was young, maybe in her 20s. The man was older, maybe in his late 50s. He was kind of short, but strong-looking. He had tough, tan, slightly wrinkled skin. He had white hair that was a little wiry, though it was arranged well. He wore khaki slacks, a navy blue blazer, and a pale blue dress shirt.

      I had apparently been complaining to the man about something. He asked me if I wanted him to talk to ----- about it. I said no, that that didn't seem like the right person to talk to. It may have seemed like talking to that person may have struck me as making too big a deal out of the situation. But there was a different person I thought we could talk to.

      The man was disappointed in me for not wanting to take his suggestion. Before I could even tell him about the other person, the man stood up out of the couch. I was standing as well. The man said, "Bah!" And shoved past me, heading out the door.
    4. reading 1; reading 2; Milne and Wiseman; boss writes report; diaper bagging instructions

      by , 05-17-2011 at 11:57 AM
      Good morning, everybody. The first two dreams had a kind of half-dream feel to them. I don't think I was all the way asleep.

      Dream #1

      I was in bed, lying on my stomach. I saw my phone, even though I may not have held it in my hands. I continued reading the book I had gone to bed reading, Psi Spies, by Jim Marrs. The section of the book was about Ingo Swann. A lot of the stuff sounded familiar, like stuff I'd previously read about Swann. But the language was really weird at points, almost absurd.

      Dream #2

      I was reading from my phone again. I was somewhat aware of the dream-like quality of my experience. I kind of found it funny that I was reading a book that was less than a foot away from my head by whatever kind of complicated psychic means I was using. I thought I my check the text I was reading now against the text of the book when I "woke up," although I knew it probably wouldn't match. Some of the language was just too absurd.

      Dream #3

      Possibly a black and white film view from a train window of a landscape and some kind of factory building. A narrator spoke about how Frederick Wiseman was the predecessor of A.A. Milne. The narrator said that even though Wiseman was a pioneer, he still didn't have the courage to say everything he wanted to say. A.A. Milne took Wiseman's statements and carried them forward with their full meaning.

      I may have caught the absurdity of this in my dream. Milne wrote his children's books a while before Wiseman started making his controversial documentaries. Nevertheless, I was kind of sad to hear the narrator's words, as if they were true after all, and I had missed the basic fact.

      Dream #4

      I "came into work" (I may only have had a vision of doing so). My computer screen was on, and open to a database that holds our reports. The screen was open to a report I had written yesterday.

      Somehow I came to understand that my boss had -- again! -- completely ignored the report I'd written and made a completely different report all his own.

      Dream #5

      I was in a grocery store, before something like the conveyor belt checkout stand. But this checkout stand was all the way in a back corner of the store, like in the packaged beef and lunchmeat area.

      I was with my mom, one or two young, black men, and a young, black woman. The cashier was an old lady. The cashier kept pulling stuff out from her side of the checkout stand and throwing it onto the conveyor belt. All of us then had to bag it up.

      At some point the woman was throwing unpackaged diapers onto the conveyor belt. I had a huge, opened, empty diaper package. I sat on the ground with the bag between my legs and loaded all the diapers into the bag. The filled bag may have come up to about mid-thigh on me.

      At another point the old lady herself had filled a paper bag so full with canned goods that it fell over and spilled all over the conveyor belt. The woman looked terribly annoyed. I felt ashamed. Had we really bought all this stuff? Wasn't it too much?

      The old lady said, "Look, I don't have any more paper bags. We can only do plastic now." I understood this to mean that the old lady was finally getting tired of dealing with all the food we had apparently bought.

      I thought we should all make things as easy on her as possible by packing everything up as quickly as possible. The two black men seemed a little reluctant to speed up, possibly because they didn't believe they could really put all the food away -- as if there weren't enough bags, or as if all the bags would break.

      I told the young men, as if this would solve all their problems, "Look, it's easy. When you get diapers, put them into one of these big diaper bags. Open in all the way up, and it'll hold a lot. Trust me: I just did it."

      The young men acted like that made sense. The young woman looked at me with pity, as if she knew that the young men thought I was kind of crazy.
    5. showing i care, talking about books, looking through walls

      by , 04-30-2011 at 01:58 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was leaving "my mother's house." It may have been a grey day, and there may have been snow on the ground. I stood right outside the front door. My mom stood just inside.

      I told my mom I loved her. I gave her a hug. My mom seemed really short. When I hugged her, it felt like I was breaking her spine, or like I had hugged her in such a way as to feel a part of her spine that had already been broken.

      I walked to the car. As I did, I thought about a small cup of ice cream I had in the back seat of the car. It was like I still had the taste of the ice cream, or even some actual ice cream, in my mouth.

      In my mind's eye, I saw the ice cream sitting in the back seat. The ice cream was kind of melted and creamy, and it had some kind of big, marshmallow-shaped, but colorful and jelly-like, things in it. The spoon in the cup seemed to be coated with the melted ice cream.

      Apparently my grandmother was driving me to the airport. But the car we were taking was more like one my mom would drive. It was a small hatchback, kind of old looking. It was messy on the inside and the outside. The outside was kind of grimy and greasy. The inside was full of old garbage and fast food containers and stuff.

      I was kind of disgusted that I'd kept my ice cream in the messy back seat. I thought it might not be a good idea for me to eat the ice cream.

      I walked up to the driver's side of the car. My grandma was still standing outside the car, with the door wide open. As I walked up to my grandma I either thought to myself or asked out loud if I'd showed my mom well enough that I cared about her.

      I was in the car, on the passenger side, riding through a kind of busy part of a suburban town, with either my grandma or some man driving the car. It was now black night.

      The driver told me, "You showed your mom you cared about her. And the fact that you're worried about it shows that you care a lot more than a lot of people do nowadays."

      We got stuck in traffic on some kind of quaint-looking, Main Street type area that was all decked out in lights, as if for Christmas. We kind of inched through the traffic and then ended up turning right on a side street and up a hill into something like a residential area.

      As we were doing this, the driver, now most likely a man, continued, "That reminds me of a project I was reading about. People were making Christmas cards to send to the soldiers. But a lot of the people making the cards thought it would be good to send cards with anti-war messages on them.

      "And that's what I mean about care. The people over there don't need to hear somebody telling them 'NO WAR.' They need us to tell them, 'We're thinking about you, and we hope you're doing well.'"

      We had gotten up to the top of the hill and were now sitting on the right end of a long conference table. We were apparently inside a room. The room had fluorescent lighting. There was also a wall-sized bookshelf that I was looking straight at.

      But it was also somehow like we were in a cafe with a big window, or as if we were actually floating out over the top of the hill, looking down to the Main Street area. It was like, even as I was looking straight at the bookshelf, I also saw the town below.

      The man had gotten onto the topic of two books. Both books were about economics. One book was written by someone I didn't know. The other was written by Warren Buffett. The man seemed to be talking more about the book by the other guy. He then ended up talking about something extremely interesting and insightful (which, of course, I forgot).

      As the man spoke about the really interesting stuff, I realized how nice he looked. He was white, with well-groomed, white hair. He wore a nice suit with a tan jacket, a subdued blue shirt, and a somewhat colorful (peach? pink?) tie. His skin was deeply tanned. His face was kind of thin and angular. But his complexion mesmerized me. It was perfect!

      I then asked the man, "Who did you say made that comment? Did you say it was Warren Buffett or the other guy?"

      The man said, "No. That was from Warren Buffett's new book."

      I thought to myself that I needed to get Buffett's new book. I seemed to keep getting Buffett somehow confused with Alan Greenspan. But I could see the cover of Buffett's new book. It kind of looked like a modern cover of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.

      The book wasn't an autobiography. It was actually a book on economic theory. I thought, "This is exactly what I've been looking for!" The man and I spoke back and forth for a bit on how odd it was that everybody didn't know about this book. It apparently wasn't selling much at all.

      I looked down and to my left. I could see the conference table. But, again, I could "see through" the table and the room, outside and down the hill, to the lit-up Main Street area.

      As I looked at the table, I was kind of hunched down and over some sheet (or pad?) of notebook paper. I scrawled on the piece of paper, in a very sloppy version of cursive, either the word "Feed" or the word "Feel."
    6. home fries at a karaoke bar

      by , 04-10-2011 at 01:41 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      It was really late at night. I was walking out on a sidewalk in front of the building where my old job was. I noticed that there was a karaoke bar similar to the one I regularly go to. I was kind of surprised to see a second bar like this, so I went in to check it out.

      There was a small, narrow staircase leading down into the bar. The bar was also small and narrow, very dark. There were a few young, white men sitting at the bar. They looked kind of miserable, a little scraggly and unkempt. The bartenders were all Indian, and they all wore headdresses.

      I looked for the karaoke song books. I found a couple laying around. At some point, I looked at a menu and ordered food -- home fries and cucumbers. I didn't really feel like singing. The place was so dark and cheerless. I looked around, but I couldn't seem to find any screens for singing.

      I finally saw a television screen. A news program was playing on it. A mass grave had been found somewhere. Some group like the al Qaeda had murdered a bunch of people, possibly Jewish people. They had buried each person in a specific square and then put some sort of statement in the square of soil over each person.

      The news report may have said that the statements were Jewish or written in Hebrew or the language of the victim. In this way, it almost seemed like the statement was a statement of solidarity with the victim, as if the people had been part of some kind of voluntary death. This was confusing to me.

      I then got a closer look at the grave -- still on the television screen. Some squares of soil were undug, revealing people's bodies, which weren't decayed at all, so that it looked like the people had only recently died. Other squares were still untouched. I saw the writing on the soil. A lot of the writing was actually ancient Egyptian. I couldn't figure out why al Qaeda would use ancient Egyptian.

      A young man, apparently of the family of the people running this bar, was sitting behind the bar or at the end of the bar. He was dressed in a modern fashion. His skin was pale, and his tightly curly hair was cut short. He may have had green eyes.

      The man turned around and looked past me, into the kitchen, which was bright with fluorescent light (and which may have been the only source of light in the bar). The man spoke to one of the older men, saying something to the effect of, "Well, that's what (whatever race it was) gets. They deserved it."

      I felt like, when the man was saying that, he was also saying something about me. I felt like the men didn't like me because I appeared to be of whatever race it was that they didn't like. I figured I'd just get my food and go.

      The young man took my money and handed me a small, white bag (paper or plastic or some kind of papery plastic?). There was, I could tell, a very small, clear, plastic box inside of it. I thought I'd ordered a decent amount of food. And I thought I'd paid a good amount for the amount of food I thought I'd ordered.

      The young man was already talking more with the older men and making it clear that he was going to ignore me for the rest of the time I was there. I opened the bag to see if I'd actually gotten what I'd ordered. I saw a little bit of home fries and a little bit of cucumbers in the small, plastic box. I figured that was fine, and that I'd take it. I didn't feel like arguing with the men to get more food.

      I walked toward the exit. As I passed something that looked like a tiered display for desserts, but which held karaoke books, I thought that I would say something out loud like, "Yeah, I really like this place, but I'll come back at another time. I just wanted to check it out and see if it was good." It was like I thought the men actually cared whether I liked this place and like they actually wanted my business.
    7. confronting the torturers

      by , 03-30-2011 at 11:39 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A group of young men sat in a basement room like in some kind of church or school. The walls may have been red bricks. There were windows high up on the walls, letting in plenty of natural light.

      The young men sat in a group of folding chairs arranged in a triangle near the left wall of the room. A group of older men entered the room. They sat inn a triangle of folding chairs opposite the men. I saw all this as if my eye level were at about seat-level with the chairs and as if I were between the two triangles of chairs.

      The young men had apparently served during some war in the role of torturers. These young men had actually tortured the old men. But now the two groups were supposed to make peace and be friends.

      One of the young men asked the old men a kind of silly question about art or movies. One old man didn't want to hear it. The old man was kind of short, with tough, tan skin, and thinning, grey-white hair. He wore a grey blazer and slacks and a maroon sweater. He began shouting at the young man, didn't he think anything he'd done was wrong?

      I now got a good view of the young men for the first time. They all projected a feeling of being very beautiful, though they were all actually kind of plain looking. Yet this feeling of beauty also created a scary feeling of calm, methodical cruelty. The men all had books in their laps, different books, as if they had each been independently reading before the old men came in.

      One of the young men, a tall, pale man with thick-rimmed glasses, frizzy, black hair, and stubble, and wearing a kind of loose, pudding-yellow sweater, asked the old man a question. The young man had a pencil, as if her were going to write notes in his book.

      Somehow the old man and young man got into an argument that implied that now the old men had been the torturers while the young men had been tortured.

      The young man asked, "Why did you gather all of us up? Why did you carry us away?"

      The old man said, "Because you looked guilty."

      The young man asked, "How could we look guilty?"

      The old man said, "You know, your looks. You look like a certain type."

      I may have figured in my dream or just waking up from my dream that the old man meant "the Jewish type."
    8. Family visits; dying woman

      by , 01-11-2011 at 01:24 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was with my family in a dark house. There seemed to be a lot of us, more than my extended family. We were all crowded around the television
      The rest of the living room was crammed with boxes.

      I was in town, visiting my family. Today was my last day in town.

      My mom was behind us, in the kitchen. She told me that she had just called my aunt, and that my aunt would be coming over soon. I got mad at my mom. She and my aunt always has conflicts. I wondered why my mom would invite such conflict on my last day in town. I really didn't want to see my aunt.

      My mom got upset and started crying asking didn't I know she was just trying to make it so I could see everybody I loved? I now felt really bad and figured I could deal with seeing my aunt.

      Dream #2

      I was with a man and a woman, walking through a place that looked like the lobby of a hotel. The man and I were carrying big plates of mirrors as big as windowpanes. The T three of us were here to visit a dying woman. We headed for an elevator. The woman by insisted on carrying the mirror I held. She felt like she hadn't been c doing enough. So I let her carry it.

      We went into an elevator. The woman had laid down the mirror, which was now only about knee-high. We got up to the second floor, or the mezzanine. I walked around by myself now.

      I was now in a place like a library. I found a book on a table that interested me. It seemed to be written in Hebrew and had colorful art on the jacket, like an Art Nouveau version of Hans Christian Andersen.

      I was a little annoyed that I couldn't read the book. From a stack of books on a balcony above me, the voice of an unseen man began calling at me. The man sounded kind of nersy and annoying. But he was yelling at me that my time was coming soon, and that I was going to die.

      I was really annoyed by the guy, but I decided to ignore him. Suddenly I found a section of the book I was looking at that was written in English. Finally I could understand the book.
    9. skinny roach; marx on art and love

      by , 12-18-2010 at 04:47 PM
      Good morning, everybody. I slept 11 hours last night. I think I'm finally over my freaking cold. And ready for a new one to get me, I guess. Ugh...

      Dream #1

      I was in "my bedroom," which was a lot like my waking-life bedroom, except that it had, I think, green walls and really dusty floors. The light in the room was dim, as if some faint light were coming from some other room.

      I saw a very skinny roach, about 5cm long, crawl across my floor. It looked all shrivelled up and dry, blackish-grey, not like a "healthy" (eww...) roach at all.

      I began to aim for the roach, to kill it. But it darted away. I looked for it and found it again, in an extremely dusty spot between some boxes and a wall. But it got away again.

      I had some toilet paper in my hand now. Apparently I was going to smash the roach with toilet paper. I found the roach again. This time it was climbing up a wall.

      But I wasn't exactly sure that I was seeing it. I kept squinting and slowly walking closer and closer, to make sure that what I was seeing was actually the roach.

      Dream #2

      I was sitting in a desk near the front of a classroom. The classroom was lit with a dim, grey light. I sat near the right wall, facing the left wall. Most of the rest of the class was facing the front wall. The room was packed with students.

      Everybody was quiet and listening to the teacher. The teacher was a tall, thin, white man, slightly balding, with grey-white hair, and squarish eyeglasses.

      The teacher was giving some sort of lecture which may have been on film or some kind of performing art. But I wasn't paying attention. I had a big, fat book in front of me. I was huddled over it, elbows on my desktop, "taking notes" (I.e. scribbling) in the margins.

      The teacher lifted the book off my desk and presented it to the rest of the class. I saw that the title of the book was "An Essay on Art and Love," and that it was by Karl Marx. The cover of the book was like a deep blue sky full of stars, with some kind of drawing in a circle in the center of the cover.

      The teacher said, "Now, you see, (he said my name) is actually reading a book! Which shows he's paying attention in class! Everybody else needs to pay attention, too."

      (I obviously, however, had not been paying attention in class. I don't even remember what the teacher was talking about.)

      The teacher had now stopped his lecture and was apparently walking around, checking on how the students were doing. I went back to doing my own thing, a little embarrassed and upset that undue "good attention" to me had been paraded before the class.

      The teacher now addressed a young, white man with fair skin and long, brown hair. The boy wore a black, wool cap and a baggy, black t-shirt with some kind of punky, black-and-white photo-print on it. The kid was slouched in his desk as the teacher addressed him.

      The teacher said, "(The kid's name, which was the same as my name), I really hope you can learn, sooner or later, to stop making smart aleck comments in class whenever I say something you disagree with. It makes the whole class laugh at me and take your side."

      I thought that was an odd argument for the teacher to make against the young man. I actually thought the kid was pretty funny, even though he was kind of distracting.

      (Note: I seriously don't think Marx wrote anything about Art and Love. That would seriously cramp Marx' style.

      I think this book is a mish-mash of my own thoughts. I've lately been reading the porn-philosophy book Juilette by the Marquis de Sade. A lot of people say the book is just porn and justification for doing all kinds of wacky things.

      Reading the book, I kind of disagree, and I've lately thought to myself that the book could be read side-by-side with Karl Marx' Capital and Leo Tolstoy's The Kingdom of God Is within You. They all three address something about the bipolarity of society.

      So my dream life decided, apparently, to take that mish-mash and run with it. And now Marx is a romantic artist somehow... Okay...)
    10. Reading in mansion

      by , 11-11-2010 at 12:38 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in the backseat of a car full of people, probably women ranging from my age down to about 13. The driver may have been one of the girls' mothers, and she may have acted as a mother-figure for me as well.

      I think I was going to an airport. But since I had a little time before I had to catch my flight, I was going to walk through the cemetery first.

      A couple of girls had gotten out of the car to let me out. The car was a big, wide, 1970s-style sedan, probably pale beige colored. We stood in a dusty parking lot that felt like it was in the middle of a construction area, like for a small business park that was just being constructed.

      I was now in a tall mansion, up in a room on the second or third floor, reading. I sat in a big, heavy wood chair at a big, heavy table made of dark wood. The room was small, crammed full of all kinds of books. The floors were probably some kind of dark wood. A decent amount of daylight came in through a window.

      I looked up to see that one of the women (whom I recognize as a woman who works at a bookstore I frequent in waking life) was sitting across the table from me, reading. I was surprised that she had come to read as well.

      Now a couple other girls bustled into the room. They said it was time for me to go to the airport. We left the room. We walked down a tight, steep stairwell.

      I kept trying to ask the woman what book she had been reading. But the other women kept dissuading me, as if we didn't have time for me to ask such a question.

      We were now outside the mansion, walking down a tight, narrow, stone staircase that ran from the porch, down a steep hill of lawn and past a tall stone wall, down to the curb where our car was.

      As we descended beyond the stone wall, we passed a few cluttery stacks of old-looking books. I may have heard the woman who had been reading with me telling me (through telepathy?) things about the book she had been reading. Either she or I had been reading a book having something to do with Irish culture, possibly the Celtic aspect of it.
    11. Windows open in my mother's house

      by , 10-17-2010 at 01:50 PM
      (Something happened in the dream before this "beginning," but I can't remember it.)

      I was sitting in the living room of "my mom's house." My mom may just have moved into this house. There were packed boxes all over. I'm pretty sure that I had come from out of town to visit my mom.

      The house had a yellowy light in it, like afternoon or morning light. The house was pretty big. It had at least two stories, the ground floor connected to the second floor by a long, narrow stairwell.

      My mom may have sat on a couch while I sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes. My mom and I were talking about something, some kind of abstract discussion that eventually wound around to a book of mine.

      The book, I saw in my mind's eye, was a tall, wide, thin, hardcover picture book. The cover was all black except for the title and a photo of some brightly colored life-form, either an exotic plant or a deep-sea creature.

      My mom may have implied somehow that she would like to see the book. But I felt like the book was in one of the boxes, and that it would be pretty hard for me to find.

      My mom was gone. I "went out to the truck" (I'm pretty sure I didn't actually do this, but kind of "told myself" I had done it), where the book had been somewhere like the floor of the front seat. I was now in the living room with the book in my arms.

      I put the book into a slot in a series of vertical steel-rod separators in a drawer of a short filing cabinet, which may have been part of something like an entertainment center.

      I thought, My mom wanted the book. I didn't think I could give it to her. But now she'll have it. But I won't make a big deal about it, because I don't want her to feel like she needs to thank me for having gone out of my way to find it.

      I walked out of the living room. I went into a couple different rooms on the ground floor and on the second floor. All the rooms were full of stuff, but they didn't feel moved-into. It was like everything still needed to be unpacked.

      The rooms were all bathed in warm light and had a summery, breezy feel. But there was also a really eerie feeling. I noticed after a while that some of the windows seemed to have been opened, and that bedsheet-like curtains were billowing in the breeze.

      I was certain someone had illicitly entered the house. I got panicked. I ran down the stairs and found my mom. My mindset was now like I was living in the house with my mom, possibly like I had been living there with her for a while.

      I may have scolded my mom for something or other, like not being vigilant enough about keeping the house safe.

      I was pretty sure the person was still inside the house. So I decided to explore the rooms and try to find the person. But as I started searching, I got really afraid.

      (I can't say whether I got so afraid that I woke up or whether I woke up because my alarm went off. I had unintentionally set my alarm last night, and I woke as soon as it went off. But I am also very certain that I was so afraid, in my dream, as I went searching through the house, that I might have woken up out of fear pretty soon anyway.)