maboroshi

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.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a scientific laboratory. The floor I was on looked like the lobby for a nature center or a church. There were tall glass walls showing a clear day outside. The floors were some kind of deep-red stone, polished heavily. One other window to my left and about 5 meters away from me looked down, apparently, to a basement area, which was dark.

My great grandmother was going down into the basement area to test out some kind of atomic science device. It was like some kind of atomic particle beam ray. It could be used either for scientific purposes or as a weapon.

My great grandmother now walked into another room to my left and went down the stairs. I may have stood on the threshhold of the first room and the room with the stairs. A man and a woman stood with me, though they both stood in the first room. The woman was talking about how once a proton beam was set in motion, it would go into an orbit around the earth, destroying whatever came into its path. This could possibly lead to the destruction of the whole earth.

The man now said, "Hmm... maybe we should get ----- (something like Swami Sarasvati) to talk about that kind of stuff." The man was basically implying that the physics of the machine were basically like the elements of Hindu religion.

The woman said, "Or we could get ----- (some famous Western physicist)."

To make a joke, I thought I'd recommend getting the Play-Doh man to talk. I envisioned holding a Play-Doh ball in my hand and smashing it. This was basically to suggest the destruction of the world, but as a joke, apparently.

I made the hand gesture and said, "Or maybe we should get --," but I was suddenly interrupted by my great grandmother calling me from downstairs. She sounded pretty insistent, so I ran toward the stairs. I called out to the man and woman, still making the hand gesture, "Maybe we should get the Play-Doh man!"

The woman got my joke and said, "Play-Doh man. Oh...!" as if she were going to start laughing.

I now lay on my stomach before a staircase down to the basement. The staircase looked like in a suburban house, and it was bordered by a thin, wooden railing, like for a child's crib.

My great grandmother's voice came from below. She said, "I need you to go get the money. I can't do the project without it." But she also discussed how she needed me to go get the money to protect it from getting into some other people's hands. My grandmother told me that the money was in a place outside of my usual activities. I took this to mean it was in some mansion in a rich neighborhood in Georgia.

I asked my great grandmother how I could possibly get into these mansions. She told me that I wouldn't have as much trouble as I thought I would, and that I should be pretty honest about my aims with anybody I encountered.

There was now a tall, bald, black man in the room with me. He stood over by what looked like a kitchen counter with a bunch of appliances, boxed and unboxed, on it. But the devices were actually weapons and parts to the device that my great grandma was testing out.

The man made some kind of threatening statement, in a smirking way, about how he was going to destroy the whole project. I tackled him and pinned him to the floor. We were down beside a bed. I was on my knees, on the man's ribs. I had him pinned, and he couldn't move. But he didn't seem worried at all. He was still smirking.

He made some move where he was now on his back. He had better control of his arms, and he tried to make some weird move against me. But I managed to counter that move and get control of him.

Suddenly I was "my old self (?)," an old, white haired, German man who had been a Nazi. I had apparently tortured this man in the past.

I lifted the man up and carried him over toward the head of the bed. The walls were grey concrete, like in a basement. At the head of the bed was a single wooden pole, kind of thin. I lifted the man's head up and said, "You couldn't leave things alone, could you? You had to bring the old me back. Well, now I'll treat you like the old me treated you!"

I was going to slam the man's head down on the thin pole so that I pierced his brain through one of his eyes. But I was a little disgusted at the thought of this, and I either didn't do it or didn't see myself doing it.

I was myself again. Some series of events had taken place, the project was completed, and my great grandma was up out of the basement again. A few people were around, like family, meeting after the project. But I still didn't have the money.

I went to look for my great grandma to tell her I didn't have the money. I found her in her bedroom, apparently changing clothes. The bedroom was dim grey.

I called out, "Grandma? I couldn't find the money. I don't know where it is." This actually wasn't true. I was actually kind of too shy to go to the Georgia mansions to look for it.

My great grandma yelled, "Well I told you where it was! Go to a place outside your usual activity. You know what that is. And tell people exactly what you're doing!"

I felt terrible. I was too shy and afraid to do this. I figured I might fail entirely at getting this money. What would happen?

I was now in some kind of bedroom that looked like an exotic bedroom in an Arabian mansion, like in the movies. A bed stood atop a few marble steps, curtained on either side by thin, pink-orange drapes.

Before the bed stood a kind of pretty boy dressed as a girl. He had long, blonde-brown hair and he wore a yellow-green and black striped shirt and a denim mini-skirt. He was apparently Harry Potter.

Harry explained how I could get past my fear and take care of my mission. It took a few minutes before I realized that Harry was wearing a diaper under his mini-skirt. I started to vanish from the room, but I remained fixated on the fact that this transvestite boy was wearing a diaper.

Harry, all by himself, began dancing in a kind of wild but sexy way all around the huge bedroom. I now saw a view from below the floor, looking straight up Harry's skirt, at his diaper. The diaper seemed to be blue, like blue jeans.

I seemed to be sinking lowe and lower. I ended up on some kind of portico area with a group of students and a couple of male teachers. The students and teachers were all Latino and black. The students were a mix of boys and girls.

I somehow figured that since I'd failed at my task, there would be no Christmas for these children. The children, without mentioning me (I wasn't present), kind of sadly complained about this fact.

I felt terrible about this, but I thought there had to be some kind of magical way that Christmas could appear for these children. After all, Christmas is a magical holiday. Suddenly, slightly glowing objects began to fill the air. They were all supposed to be things like Christmas objects. But they were actually things like fast food items.

One of the boys, seeing these items, said, "Hey guys! Don't worry! We've got Christmas right here! Just eat one of these Christmas hamburgers out of the air!" The boy himself ate a Christmas hamgurger. One of his male friends did so as well.

The two boys were suddenly acting like they were drunk or stoned. The students were all walking to some educational site. One boy grabbed on to the arm of one of his teachers, a big, Latino man with long hair in a ponytail, as if the boy were the teacher's girlfriend. Another boy was at the back of the line, bouncing around and acting crazy.

Finally, as the group continued walking toward the educational site, the first boy woke frfom his stupor. He ran back to the second boy and warned him not to eat the hamburgers.

The school group was now of little, Japanese boys and girls. There were two male, Japanese teachers. I was now present with the group.

We were walking into a forest full of yellow-leafed trees. A couple of girls, as we walked into the forest, called out, "Kirei!"

I noticed that the scenery was getting all fuzzy, like a digitized video view getting more and more pixellated. I thought I'd comment on this to the teachers. But I didn't know whether, if I did this, I'd be breaking the Japanese customs of respectfulness.

We walked along a really muddy path. At some point, I had to push aside the stalks of a tall, tree-like shrub. One of the branches touched my face. It was all muddy. I just decided to let the stalks go and not worry about whether I was clearing a way for the students behind me. But just as I decided to do that, it turned out that we were past that area.

The teachers were now turning us around, but we were walking back on a path parallel to the path we had walked out on. This second path was flooded with water, which reflected the blue of the sky. I thought this would be kind of inconvenient. A horse was also standing in the water.

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."

Good morning everybody. It's Saturday, so I have some time for side notes. Usually I post my dreams via phone, on my subway ride in to the city.

I remember five dreams from last night. But I can't remember any of them very well. I've been pounding NyQuil every night, and that really affects my recall -- though it doesn't seem to affect the weirdness of my dreams too much.

Looking back on these dreams, it seems pretty obvious a lot of the imagery comes from a photo article msn.com had yesterday about huge mansions. A lot of the mansions had movie theatres. And one of the mansions had the "organic shape" of the science lab in the first dream.

I was lucid for about half a second in the fourth dream. I seldom get a solid lucid dream. Maybe once a year. I don't try. Lucidity, like meditation and OBEs, seems to be bad for my nerves rather than good. I don't know why. I usually let my dream life just take its course.

Also -- sorry to MoSh for appropriating his avatar into the fifth dream. I think I have found the dream-sharing interactions on this site so interesting here that I made up a DC to dream-share with.

Dream #1

I was in a restaurant with my female friend T. The restaurant was nice, dim, with tall tables and chairs, all widely spaced. There were very few people in the restaurant. However, I ended up talking with some guy sitting a few tables away from us.

The guy and I ended up talking about spiders. I was trying to make some point about how spiders are actually nicer than a lot of people think. I was trying to use some weird etymological (not entomological) argument.

Eventually I turned to T and asked, "How do you say 'phobia of spiders?'"

T asked, "In Japanese or French?"

I said, "In French, of course!" as if the argument had all been based on French etymology.

T gave me the phrase. But as she did, it was also like I was trying to work through the phrase in my own mind, trying to recall it for myself. As I did so, it was like T was explaining a whole series of things regarding phobias.

T expanded over my whole field of view. Darkness surrounded her. She was eating some kind of tofu soup. I now focused deeply on one of the cubes of tofu. It seemed to break in the broth. The fragments dissolved and became something like stars in the darkness.

As this happened, T was explaining the optical, neurological, and muscular processes of a phobia. As she finished her discussion, the stars became directed toward moving out of some kind of wall. I seemed to be moving with the stars. They pushed out through and past the wall. I went with the.

Outside the wall, I looked back to see that this "wall" had been some kind of half sphere of organic material, like a microscopic picture of a spore. The view of this was in black and white, with all the outlines and ridges of the "spore" in white and all the smooth parts of the spore and the spore's surroundings in black.

As this was occurring, I heard T say, "You see, we can take any sort of psychological process, such as the phobia of spiders, determine its physical characteristics, even down to the temperature change of the body, and re-engineer an organism through these phenomena. And that is how we've created our first mouse."

I was now floating deep in the blue waters of a sea. I saw, down at the sea's floor, an organically curved building, which I recognized as a research lab, covered in sand.

I thought to myself, Why would they have created a mouse? Wouldn't they have created a human from all that human data? But I then realized that you would first have to create small animals, then work your way up to larger animals. I also realized that all of this would have to take place in the depths of the sea, because you'd need the pressure.

I now saw inside the research lab. I saw inside an office that was unlit. The only light coming into the office was from another room, and from the wall-sized window which showed the blue sea outside.

A man sat in the office. He was young, tall, strong, tan-skinned, with slightly curly hair that went just below his shoulders and gentle blue-green eyes. He wore a slightly loosed blue-green t-shirt and blue jeans.

The man was on an old-style, big cell phone with his girlfriend. He was talking about how hard this work was. He sometimes wondered if it was even worth it for him to continue. He also wondered something like whether it was ethical for him to be doing this kind of work.

But he then told his girlfriend, "But, hey, they're paying me 30 a month! That's right! I mean 30 Gs!"

I quickly did the calculation and realized this was a lot of money.

Dream #2

I was in a stadium-style movie theatre. The movie was playing. The movie theatre was relatively empty. In fact, the only people who were there, I think, were friends of mine. The movie theatre may have been part of something like a hotel or resort, and we all may have been at this resort for some specific lesson or project.

I saw my friend T down a few rows from me. I went down to her row and started flirting with her. We ended up cuddling, and getting to the point where I had her long skirt pushed up pretty far on her legs. I thought we might even be getting ready to go back to her room.

But T got up and went somewhere else. I sat watching the movie for a little while. Then I saw an extremely attractive, blonde woman in her mid-20s down a couple of rows from me. I didn't know her, but I went to talk to her. She was very well-groomed, and she wore a pale purple, fuzzy sweater and a long skirt.

We were talking for a little while. Then she started leaning and nuzzling against me. I thought I probably shouldn't respond so much to her, after I had been messing with T and getting her so excited. But I eventually got so aroused by the woman's advances that I began responding.

We started getting pretty involved. I thought to myself, All my friends are in the rows behind and above me. They can all see what I'm doing, right after I'd been doing it with T. What will they think? And what if T is still back there?

The blonde woman and I were now in some store that looked like a dollar store full of Christmas decorations. We were embracing each other fondly and calmly, as if comfortable with the thought of soon being in bed with each other. We stood near a wall-height window in the store. The sunlight was bright and golden-white.

Suddenly I could sense T coming from some part of the store behind us. I thought, I can't let T see me like this! She'll be so upset! She likes me so much!

So I took the blonde woman, folded her up (like she was now only three feet tall), and shoved her into a clear-plastic shelf. The shelf was also holding metallic red and gold letter-shaped Christmas streamers wrapped in flat cellophane packaging with cardboard tops.

I turned back and looked along the aisles. It was a little bit dimmer farther back in the store. I could see T walking up toward me. She was smiling somewhat innocently. When she finally got up to me, I could see that her hair had gotten long and kind of messy.

Dream #3

I floated down from the ceiling of a basketball auditorium. I descended over a wide staircase, at the top of which was a wide entranceway. At the bottom of the staircase was the basketball court.

A group of people walked out from the entranceway as I descended the final slow feet to the stairs. The group was led by a white man. He didn't look real at all. He looked like a cartoon. He was amazingly wide, with unnaturally tanned skin, a plasticky wave of hair, and a frozen grin. He wore a sea-green polo shirt and khaki slacks.

Behind this white man were five black men, dressed up like the Harlem Globetrotters. They all looked like terribly exaggerated cartoons! One of them even looked like the bottom half of a bowling ball in red and white striped shorts -- with no top half for his body!

I told myself, This is unreal. I'm dreaming.

As soon as I realized I was dreaming, everything took on such a tactile clarity that I felt like I was awake. I said to myself, Oh. I guess I just woke up from my dream. No wonder I thought I was dreaming. I told myself, Well, hopefully next time I'll realize I'm dreaming while I'm actually dreaming.

The basketball players all ran out to the court. I ran out as well. It was like I was supposed to play against all of them. They all ran around me with the ball. I kept almost getting the ball from them. But they would pass it around and keep it away from me.

At one point, all five basketball players were in a line, tossing the ball back to the next person as I approached the person who had the ball. I was especially frustrated not being able to get the ball from the player who didn't even have a top half to his body!

The players were now all around me, near the hoop. The were surrounding me. I felt like if I didn't get the ball now, I would lose for sure! Suddenly, a white woman dressed up as Super Mario got the ball from one of the players. She bent over to look into my face (as if I were waist-high -- only a child?) and nodded at me, letting me know she was on my side.

The Super Mario girl soared up into the air. It looked like she was going to make a slam dunk! The hooped seemed to be 20 feet high. But the girl looked like she was going to make it. But as she approached the hoop, she just threw the ball straight at the net. The ball flew off and rolled away somewhere off the court.

The Super Mario girl landed. Some of my other teammates gathered around me. (I only came up to their waists, as if I were a child, although this didn't occur to me in the dream.) The Super Mario girl may now have been wearing spring-green overalls and a pink shirt with tiny, little flower designs on it, though she still had the Mario nose and mustache.

The teammates all explained to me that the Super Mario girl could have made the dunk. But that wasn't the point of this game. I looked at the ground. I didn't want to hear that. I thought, If she could have made the dunk she should have just made it. The basketball players had all frustrated me so much. Somebody should just have dunked on them!

Dream #4

I was in a basement of some really fancy hotel or house. The basement was like a nice, den-like room, with warm, orange walls. There were a lot of people here. We were all having some kind of multi-day party or retreat. We were all somewhat rich, and most of us had been friends for a while.

There were a few groups of us standing in a few different lines to get night-time desserts from a number of different small bars before heading to some late-evening recreation like playing an easy sport or watching a movie.

I was (or was seeing from the viewpoint of) a white man in his 50s or 60s. I was somewhat tall, strong, with tanned skin. I had grey-white hair, short, and well-combed. I had steel-blue eyes. I wore a blue shirt, possibly navy blue, and pale-khaki or white khaki shorts.

In front of me was a little boy. He was blonde, very pretty. He seemed to be wearing only a pale blue, long-sleeved, Gap shirt (which is what I wear as a shirt to go to bed) and nothing else. The shirt went down almost to the young boy's knees.

I and the boy still had a few more people to go before we would get served. The bar we were at looked like it had some kind of tropical theme: it had bamboo shoots for the bar front, and had a roof over it that looked liked thatched palm leaves.

I seemed to be hugging the boy from behind. The boy finally told me he didn't feel like he wanted to do this, and that he really didn't want to do the late night activity. I understood that the boy just wanted to go to bed.

I got out of line with the boy and began walking out of the room. As I did so, I said goodbye to a few people, explaining that I was heading out for the night, because the little boy figured it was time to go to bed.

I noticed how all the other older men were with older women, like they were with their wives. I couldn't figure out why I was with a little boy.

Dream #5

I walked into an apartment that was a maybe three or four floors up in its building. The apartment had brick walls, and it looked out over some kind of city scene, like in a slightly busy area of Brooklyn or Manhattan.

It was late afternoon. The light outside was dim blue. But inside the apartment it was warm and well-lit. The apartment felt cluttered, but nice and comfortable.

There were other people in the apartment, all friends. It was like we were having a party. Everybody was happy and cheerful. But I also had a sense that we were really here to strategize about something. It was like we were making plans to defend ourselves against some really bad thing that was about to happen or that had already begun happening and was in its early, relatively mild stages.

The apartment may have been a very large studio, so that the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, and the bedroom, were all really "one room," even though the place was large enough and the space was varied enough so that each diferent place felt like a "different room."

I walked over to the dining table, near the front windows. The kitchen was just to my right. I looked at a sheet of paper. It was in a different language. I began talking about what was written on the paper.

One of my friends, a young man all dressed up in fancy garb and a powdered wig, like the picture of Vivaldi in MoSh's avatar on this site, came up to me and asked me if I spoke the language on the sheet of paper.

"Oh, no," I replied. "I don't speak Latin. I don't speak any language other than English. I mean, I think people are fooled, because I learn songs in other languages, and I sing those songs pretty well. But that's mostly j-pop, and I definitely don't speak Japanese."

I felt stupid, having to admit that I didn't speak Latin, after I had spoken, apparently with a tone of authority, regarding the language on the sheet. I thought I had acted in a misleading way. So now I tried to make up for it by thinking of a song that I knew in Latin. But all I could think of was Leporello's aria from Mozart's Don Giovanni. And I knew that "wasn't quite" Latin.

I began to see the words of Leporello's aria handwritten in pencil on a sheet of paper, very watery and blurry.