• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. hungry animals; sports tickets

      by , 02-17-2012 at 03:23 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      It was a hot day. I was walking up a slope in a desert forest. The soil was grey and dry. There were pine trees, well-spaced, and shrubs and boulders.

      I somehow sensed an animal stirring behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see an animal I first thought of as a deer starting up from behind a boulder.

      The deer seemed to be afraid of me, so that it wouldn't move. So I turned around and walked away, hoping to calm the animal.

      The deer now rushed out from behind the boulder and past me, coming a little close. It was probably still afraid of me. It scared me a little, too. It was very big. I now thought of it as an elk, even though it was colored like a deer.

      I now turned to my left and was walking toward a path or road. There were no trees in this area, and the sun was bright. From behind a smaller boulder sprung another deer-like animal. This one was dark mahogany, almost like an elk. But it only came up to my waist.

      The little animal was really friendly. So I decided to pet it. It began licking me. But then it got too clingy with me. It began kissing and sucking my hand. I couldn't escape from the animal. It almost seemed to be coiling around me. And it was slobbering all over me.

      I knew people said that wild animals with rabies first act really friendly with people. I wondered if this animal had rabies. If it did, and it was slobbering all over me, if was probably exposing me to rabies.

      I managed to free myself from the animal. I was now on the path. There were a black man and woman on the path with me. Off to my left was a small, nice, wooden bridge that overlooked a wide, shimmering valley or gleaming lake.

      The woman was telling me how she was poor and hungry. She was trying to get me to give her money so she could get some food. But I had a feeling that she only wanted to feel me out to see if she could use me to get a lot of money.

      But the man told the woman to stop complaining and to get onto assistance. The man said that where we were, in South Africa (?), people could get really good food assistance.

      Dream #2

      I was watching a true-crime TV show, kind of like "Unsolved Mysteries," probably with my family. The segment was about some woman who had been murdered by her boyfriend.

      The murder was pretty gruesome. But, for some reason, what struck me more was how irresponsible and neglectful the woman had been in her life. I took as a sign of this the woman's obsession with collecting little "cute" toys.

      One of these toys stood up on a bookshelf. It was a little, black rabbit. I somehow knew that the rabbit was controlled by a stylus, as if it were something like a touch-screen Game Boy.

      I was standing -- somewhere -- with my sister. I was showing her that I knew how to play with these "cute" animals as well. The "cute" animal was basically a screen like an iPad screen, surrounded with white fur.

      I was now walking around outside with a tall, fattish white man. The man had stubbly cheeks and wore a baseball cap and a too-tight, pale yellow t-shirt. We were walking through some small mountain town that looked partly lke an old western town and partly like a modern town.

      The man and I were crossing some bridge from one section of town to another. After that we walked up a hill of buildings that kind of looked like Old West buildings.

      I was telling the man about my job. The man said that my job sounded pretty good. I started to worry that the man would think I was bragging and either try to cut me down or take my job away. So I thought I should tone down my enthusiasm.

      I told the man that the job was good for somebody like me because it was a project that was just starting out. It was good for people like me who had volatile emotions. I found it physically hard to say "volatile emotions."

      The man asked me what I meant. I explained -- while shrouding my head with a towel (???) -- that I could suddenly get angry really easily.

      I was still talking to the man when he veered us into some building that looked partly like an Old West saloon and partly like a modern cafe. I hadn't even quite realized we'd gone inside.

      The man veered off to the left and left me behind. He told me he wasn't trying to avoid me. But he just had something important to take care of. He went to the counter.

      I stood around for a bit, then decided that maybe I should get something while I was here. But I needed to get money first. So I went to an ATM just to the right of the counter.

      Just to the right of the ATM was a table at which sat three ladies. The ladies were all dressed like from the Old West. I felt like I owed the ladies something. So it didn't seem right that I should be getting money out of the ATM right in front of them.

      The man walked over to the table and I followed. Apparently the man and I had done something for the ladies. Now the man was looking for our repayment.

      The head lady addressed the man. The lady was tall and stately, with a firm, shapely figure. She wore a dress with red and maroon stripes, a corset-like waist, and puffed-out sleeves. She had her greying hair up in a very fancy coiffure.

      The lady handed us two tickets as repayment. I looked at my ticket. It was white with peach-pink writing. It said that it was good for any one sporting event, anywhere in the world, at any time.

      The woman said she had discussed our repayment with her lawyer, and that this type of repayment balanced being the best for us and the most convenient for her. And since she'd discussed it with her lawyer, it was legally protected. So we shouldn't try to fight her for any other type of repayment -- such as, I guess, the money we'd probably expected.

      The man and I walked away. We were probably back outside. The man was disappointed at first. But then he said that this gift was actually good, and quite a feminine gift, because it balanced the boyish and adult sides of a man.

      I thought the gift was cheap, and I couldn't figure out why the man seemed satisfied with it. But, either as or after I woke, I began to realize that I could go to any sporting event in the world, at any time. I began trying to decide what sporting event I would go to.
    2. my cover list; girl in church; ferret; two books; peeing a lot; friends audition; aeon

      by , 07-30-2011 at 01:45 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I had quit my job. But now I had come back. I was in "my office," which was mostly grey, with dim, greyish fluorescent light. My seat was a cubicle off to the right from a long hallway.

      I was coming in for the day at the same time as another man. The man had dark, red-brown skin. He had frizzy, red-black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a dark blue dress shirt and dakr grey slacks. The man and I spoke casually for a moment. The man had a gentle, slightly high-pitched voice, with a flattish, American accent. He seemed really nice.

      The man went into the office across from my cubicle. I figured that he was going to be my boss. I was trying to think of all the ways I could help him. After all, I knew all about this office, and apparently, today was only the man's first day.

      I didn't sit in my seat. I also didn't turn my computer on. I'm pretty sure I just stood up, shuffling through papers, trying to figure out things like what kind of data I needed to get for the man.

      The man and I were then heading down the hallway beyond my cubicle. This hallway was featureless and empty. We ended up in the office of the head of my department, DR. DR sat at his desk, which was kind of cluttered. DR had already given the man instructions. The man had left.

      I stood beside DR and just to his left, as if I were going to look at something on his computer screen. DR turned a little bit and then relaxedly turned his head a bit more so he could see me. His eyes looked kind of sleepy, and it looked more like he expected me to ask him something, rather than that he had a plan for me.

      I asked DR, "Is there a cover list you'd like me to start out with?" This, I assume, meant a list of companies for which DR would like me to gather data. Usually my boss would be the one to discuss this kind of list with DR. I'd be the one to pull the data.

      But DR said that he did have a list for me. He pulled out a piece of paper that looked very much like an electronic Excel spreadsheet with marker or thick pencil scrawlings in the cells. He told me to get started on this list.

      I was ready to get started on the names, and I was even trying to plan out how to put together some financial models for the companies on the list. But I was also surprised. I hadn't quite known I would be asking for a list. And I didn't know DR would just give me one.

      I knew this meant that I had been "promoted" to the position my boss had. That would mean I'd be on an equal level with the man I'd walked into the office with this morning.

      I was now back at my cubicle for a brief moment. I was considering what kind of work I needed to get started on.

      But then I was out walking on a sidewalk, going up a steep hill in a residential area. It was a clear sunny day, and I was walking under the shade of trees with thick canopies. I had my phone to my ear and I was listening to a conversation between my boss and our HR person, LS.

      LS was talking about what a good job I was doing in my new position, and what a good fit I was for the job. My boss got mad and he yelled, "Of course he is! I've been telling you people that all this time! But nobody ever listened to me!"

      Dream #2

      I was sitting at church, probably near the front. The place was so crowded that all I could see were people. Everybody seemed older, and everybody was dressed up. A shaft of bright, white light from a high-up window lit the area around me.

      I turned my head to the right and looked down. In an aisle (that had only been temporarily formed?) a little girl came walking toward me, possibly coming away from an older woman. The little girl had frizzy, curly, light brown hair. The may have worn a tank-top like smock and slacks.

      The little girl seemed to want to sit with me, so I lifted her up and sat her onto my lap. I sat forward, apparently to listen to the rest of the sermon. But I was mostly thinking of how happy I was to have the little girl sitting on my lap.

      Dream #3

      I was walking on a sidewalk somewhere. A black and white ferret ran up from behind me, passing me on my left side. It ran up to my mom.

      I said something to my mom like, "Wow, I see what you mean, after all! Ferrets are really nice!"

      Dream #4

      I was out in some kind of barren landscape, less like a desert, more like a natural area that had just been plowed over for a construction project. I stood just before some short hill or mound of brown soil, possibly with clumps of grass or vegetation growing on it. It was a sunny and pale day.

      I was planning to go out on some kind of trip. I had two books with me, but I could only take one. Both books were paperbacks. One books was a regular sci-fi book, possibly from an older author, like Arthur C. Clarke or Isaac Asimov.

      The other was called "The Joy of Sex." But it wasn't The Joy of Sex. Instead, it was some kind of semi-sci-fi novel mixed with porn. But the porn segments were supposed to be very well-described, like for educational purposes, to teach people how to have good sex. The book itself was a Penguin Classics paperback, and on its cover it had that French painting of the two girls in bed, with the one girl between the other's legs.

      I felt a little grossed out at the thought of reading all the sex descriptions in the book, so I decided to take the regular sci-fi book with me on my trip. After that, I felt a little guilty. Hadn't I always felt like I wasn't that great at sex? Didn't I always feel like I should learn how to be better. The "Joy of Sex" novel could have taught me how to be good. But I had decided not to take it.

      Dream #5

      I was in some dark bathroom, peeing. I just kept peeing and peeing. Eventually I started peeing all over the toilet seat and floor. Apparently this was some public bathroom. I started to pity the guy who'd have to use the toilet after me. I was really messing it up! But I had no intention of cleaning it.

      Dream #6

      A young man, who looked really familiar to me as some kind of movie or TV star, sat before the big desk of some TV executive. The executive sat behind his desk. The office was pretty big, very nice, and dimly lit.

      The young man had just auditioned for the role of Joey in the TV show Friends. But he didn't make it. The executive, who really liked the guy, had to break the news to the guy. This whole scene in the executive's office appeared as if it had been filmed, and filmed for an episode of Friends, like a kind of "History of Friends" episode.

      I knew that it wouldn't matter that the guy didn't get to play the role of Joey. The guy looked very familiar to me (even though I can't place him now -- he looked like a mix between Joey and Ross, with stubble), and I knew that he would end up as a cast member in another successful TV show or movie.

      The young man now stood up at the left side of the executive's desk. The executive stood before the young man. He was gradually, obliquely telling the young man how he hadn't made the cut.

      Finally, in some weird display of sympathy, and to show the young man that the executive liked him, the executive lifted up his head and smiled. Apparently the executive had been wearing a baseball cap the whole time, because his face was revealed from under the bill. The man was apparently famous, and this strange reveal was meant more for the sake of the filming.

      The executive was tall, kind of thin, balding, and maybe in his late 40s or early 50s. He reminded me of a famous TV person, but I couldn't place him. In another way, he kind of reminded me of Ron Howard.

      The youn man was now going to a restaurant to meet his friends. There were two men who sat waiting at a small, circular table for the young man. Both the men were older than the young man. They were tall, skinny, and they had kind of frizzy, blonde hair, like Art Garfunkel.

      Before the young man came into the restaurant, the two men had actually been holding hands over the table, like they were lovers. But when they saw the young man come into the restaurant, they quickly let go of each other, as if to hide the fact of their being lovers from the young man.

      The young man hugged the two men and then sat down at the table. He was wearing a pale, pink shirt and a brown, cowboy-style vest. He threw his hands up in the air and said, "Well, I didn't make it! I was close, but I didn't make it!"

      The young man had apparently had two parts to his audition. The first part had just been him playing the role of Joey. He had done better at that part than everybody except the guy who had actually gotten the role. But the second part was some kind of test, maybe even a written test. The young man was now explaining to the two men that the executive had explained to him that he had only gotten a 70 on that test.

      The young man said something like, "A 70! Can you believe it? A 70! That's all I got!"

      Dream #7

      No vision. Just words. Something like: "Aeon -- aeon in the mind. The mind in man."
    3. crashing planes and bomb

      by , 07-26-2011 at 11:58 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was travelling with a group of people, probably in a big van or a bus. It was daytime, and we seemed to be going along a desert highway or a road in a desert town. The road seemed wide, and there was always a lot of space on either side of the road. There may have been some small hills, as well as occasional houses or other buildings. Everything seemed to glimmer with heat convection.

      I watched a commercial airliner pass our vehicle. The plane was huge. It seemed to me that it was way too close to the ground, and that its angle was too steep. It would make sense if the plane were landing. But there didn't seem to be any airport in sight. I thought that the plane was going to crash or crash land.

      Not long after that I saw another plane, this one going over the horizon, possibly in something like a barrel roll. I keep waiting, even kind of flinching, for the explosions from the two planes.

      The people in the vehicle may have started talking about planes crashing. As they did I saw another passenger airliner seeming to crash over the horizon in front of us. This one had all the markings of a commercial airliner and was white, but it was shaped like a blimp. It may have already been on fire.

      We were now at the top of some mesa, looking down over a reddish-brown landscape. The area was supposed to be a big city, I think. But I didn't see any buildings.

      The woman who was in charge of our group had stopped the bus here and gone off to get some kind of instructions or directions. I and another man stood out beside the bus, looking down over the mesa.

      Suddenly a bomb seemed to go off down below. It must have been a big bomb, but I somehow knew it had been strapped to a suicide bomber. The bomb had no explosion, noo fire or light. There were just three concentric rings of dust that rippled out from the cednter of the "blast."

      The rings of dust themselves didn't seem very huge, but they managed to reach us. With the first and second rings, the air temperature became progressively hotter. I then got afraid. I knew how these bombs worked. They were some kind of nuclear bomb. Each ring was a layer of fallout. And the third ring was the worst.

      I cringed in anticipation of the third ring. When it hit us, it shook us pretty hard. The air was full of dust and debris. Then the ring passed us. I knew that we had been so far away from the blast that the radioactive effects would not harm us. But it was now obvious that there were a lot of people all over the place committing terrorist activities.

      The woman came back to the bus. Her instructions were regarding the terrorist activities. Apparently the people in the bus had been assigned to deal with these terrorists.

      One of the men reasoned that since the events occurred in the desert, that we were going to be focusing our work on the west coast. He thought this meant we would be working in California.

      I saw the man's face close up. He was kind of pale, with a short, red beard and red hair. He said, "I never wanted to make too big a deal about California, even though I really like it, cause that's where I come from. But I'm glad we'll get to be going there. Don't you think we'll have to work there?"
    4. space shuttle crash; friend's apartment; boss' bedroom; singing to hyde; bob dylan's bless

      by , 06-25-2011 at 01:23 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was standing out in some kind of open, desert-like plain. I stood with a woman, possibly my mother. We looked up into the air and saw a space shuttle lifting off -- all by itself, and with no exhaust.

      My mom and I may have been talking about the shuttle. The shuttle then did a loop, somehow flipping around so that it was also upside down when it returned to its original point. I knew that this meant something was wrong with the shuttle. The shuttle then fell and crashed into the ground, topside first, not too far away from us.

      For some reason, something in particular struck me about the back, top fin of the shuttle. I think I was surprised that the shuttle had crashed into the ground, but that the back fin was still intact and erect. The shuttle was smashed in other places and was overall covered in red soil and dust.

      I saw inside the shuttle. Some woman who was apparently my mom's friend, but who actually looked like LP, a friend of my friend H, was the only person in the shuttle. She was older looking, kind overweight, with frizzy-curly grey-blonde hair. She wore a greenish t-shirt.

      The woman was buckled by both shoulders into the pilot's seat. She looked a little exhausted, more like she had run a long race than like she had just been in a shuttle crash. We'd thought she was dead. But it was now like she was fine.

      She herself was apparently worried that she wouldn't be able to fly the shuttle again. But apparently the shuttle wasn't completely wrecked, and it would be able to fly again.

      Dream #2

      I was in a bedroom in my old friend R's apartment, with my friend R. My friend R reclined on his bed. I either stood or sat on the floor on the side and near the foot of the bed. On the other side of the bed there was a wall-height, wall-length window. On the other side of the window was a wide staircase that ran down the side of the wall. It was night outside, and there was just a dim incandescent light in R's bedroom.

      R seemed to be talking on the phone. But he was also talking to me. It was like we had had a pretty nice conversation about some slightly intellectual subject familiar to us both. But apparently I was also getting ready to leave. R asked me if I was coming back to his apartment later on to have dinner with him. I told him yes, but I don't think I was really planning to come back.

      Dream #3

      I was in my boss' bedroom. All the lights were turned off. My boss was in bed. I stood right next to the bed, although I feel like I may actually have been very short, as short as if I had actually been sitting by his bed. I may also have been doing stuff like packing clothes into a suitcase.

      My boss asked me if I'd be coming back to work after a certain amount of time, possibly a few weeks or a few months. I told my boss sure, that I'd be back. But I really didn't think I'd come back, and I kind of hoped I didn't get sucked back into everything.

      Dream #4

      I was in a subway car, kind of like the car of a 3-train, with the silvery-reflective walls and green-white fluorescent light. The car was only moderately full of people, and I felt like I was with a couple of friends, maybe younger girls. I was standing, standing-swinging from one of the horizontal bars over the seats, with my back toward the seats.

      As I swung, I sang "My Heart Draws a Dream," by L'Arc en Ciel. I could hear myself very clearly as I sang. It felt really good to sing.

      But then Hyde from L'Arc en Ciel stood up from a seat across the aisle from me and walked up to me. I may have stopped singing for a moment. I felt bad for singing in front of Hyde. I obviously wasn't as good as him. I didn't want him to think I was making fun of him by singing his songs.

      But Hyde just smiled gently at me. Somehow his looks implied that he was listening to me patiently, almost like a parent might give an interested face while his child sang him a song. So I may have started singing again. But now the song sounded just like the L'Arc en Ciel song, as if I weren't singing, but the song were being played from somewhere.

      Dream #5

      I was in a dark bar. The bar was so dark that the bar and the wall behind the wall all seemed to be just as black as the shadows. There was like coming from some area on or behind the countertop, and the bottles and mirror were lit as well, so that these things were all a gently bright, incandescent white.

      A woman stood behind the bar, and another woman sat in front of the bar. This bar was apparently a karaoke bar. I was already singing a song, even though I don't think I held a mic. I thought the song I was singing was a Bob Dylan song. But it was actually the L'Arc en Ciel song "Bless."

      The woman sitting at the bar asked me if it was difficult to sing this song. I said, "No. I know these lyrics pretty well. I'm a big fan of this Bob Dylan song."

      The song hit the instrumental part, and suddenly I felt like I wasn't familiar with the song at all. But right before the chorus was about to start up again, I remembered how it all went. But, as I sang, I may have been singing along with the actual song, instead of a karaoke version of the song. At this point I may have realized I wasn't singing Bob Dylan.
    5. Mickey Mouse the hero; Cobain memorial follies; Civil War bomber

      by , 01-15-2011 at 04:29 PM
      Good morning, everybody. I YouTubed too much last night. So my dream recall wasn't great.

      The first dream is based, I think, on all the Epic Mickey posters I see around town. I haven't played the game, but the paint Mickey on the poster is really cool.

      Dream #1

      I was in a huge palace. The palace had stone walls and columns which were draped in areas with red velvet tapestries with golden trim. There were alot of people in the palace, all dressed in the outfits of medieval nobility. In particular I remember one woman with a pale pink dress and a pointy, pink headdress with sheer fabric flowing down from its point.

      We were all here to address some coming danger. There was a killer or there were killers who were coming to attack the kingdom. Some person needed to step up to fight this danger.

      Suddenly, from off a high pedestal near the front of the palace, Mickey Mouse jumped down, heading toward where I stood, more toward the middle or back of the palace. Mickey didn't quite look like himself. He was sleek black, as if he were made out of shadow or liquid. His shorts may now have been dark blue with star designs on them. He looked like some kind of mystical figure. I may have come to understand that he was a knight.

      Dream #2

      I was part of some concert held in honor of Kurt Cobain. I don't know if we were in rehearsals, but we kept repeating the same part of the show. It was supposed to be some kind of emotional performance where one person started out on the stage, singing and playing an acoustic guitar, and then, one by one, more performers would come out on stage, until a big group was singing the song.

      I kept coming out for my part, which involved just singing. But each time I came out for my part, someone would point out some way in which I'd messed up. We'd go back and do it again. I really started losing confidence. Then I eventually got the feeling that everybody in the show actually hated me, and they were just hoping to criticize me until I quit.

      I was a little worried that the reason they hated me was because I was a bad singer. But I resolved to keep on singing, in spite of my fears.

      At first, I think Dave Grohl was the first person out on stage. But eventually, Kurt Cobain himself was the first person out on stage. Eventually, I was the second person out. I may actually have been playing an acoustic guitar and singing at this point.

      Dream #3

      I was watching a situation as though I were watching a movie, although I could also feel the actual environment of the situation. It was Civil War time. There was a high ranking man out on an open field with another man. The high ranking man was older, blonde, and tan, with a trimmed beard. He wore a pale blue-green uniform. The other man was short, a little pudgy, and balding. He was probably Mexican. He was kind of a groveling type.

      The Mexican man was pleading with the military man about something, and the military man was just laughing the Mexican off. But the Mexican man was actually just stalling the military man while his cohorts were planting a bomb on the military man.

      Eventually the Mexican man, still in a groveling way, informed the military man that he had a bomb near him and that he was going to be blown up presently. The military man started to panic, trying to get way. But then I suddenly had the view, from a distance, of the bomb going off. It had obviously killed the military man.

      The scene repeated itself, maybe more than once. There was now a shrub on the field, behind which the cohorts hid. There was also a table, at which the military man and the Mexican man alternately sat. I also saw the bomb, which was like a silver sphere (or a Pokemon ball) about 10cm in diameter with a fuse coming out the top. Once the bomb was placed by the military man's right foot. Another time, it was placed directly on the table.

      I then saw a scene where the cohorts lit the bomb's fuse from far away. The end of the fuse may have had something on it like the bomb sphere. The smoke from the fuse snaked through spaces between desert shrubs. It had a long way to go before it finally got to the military man, but, as my view followed, I felt a terrible sense of fatality.
    6. checking the ice ; getting "wenclets"; little girl shopping

      by , 01-14-2011 at 01:22 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was out in a field which was a part of someone's property. I was walking on top of a huge drift of snow. The snow was hard enough to walk on the surface. The sky overhead was a heavy, pale grey.

      I told myself I was checking the ice in this area for something in particular. I came upon a patch of ice revealed beneath some snow. I walked out onto it. I told myself that if I were able to walk on the ice, the ice would be stable enough so that there would be no worry for the field.

      I saw a small puddle of water just beyond the ice. I stepped into it. It was only ankle deep at first. But it soon got so deep that my whole body plunged in. I thought this might mean trouble for the field. But then I figured it probably wouldn't. The puddle was deep, but it was still small.

      I started worrying about myself. I had fallen into this freezing water and I needed to get out. I looked around for a way out. But the body of water was now as big as a lake.

      I was now out of the lake and on some kind of long, covered walkway of red flagstone. The walkway went around some kind of big desert mansion. Some of my old friends were there. They were all getting ready to go somewhere else. I saw them walk up a staircase at one end of the walkway. Somewhere there may have been snow-covered cacti.

      Dream #2

      I was in an apartment that wasn't mine. I may have been watching the apartment for somebody. The apartment was small, but comfortable. It was on a higher floor. Light came inside, filtered through the greens and yellows of tree leafs.

      I was sneaking past the apartment windows. I needed to go out my window and into someone else's to get something. But I couldn't let anybody know I was doing it. There was a lot of activity outside. The landlords (a man and woman who had actually been landlords of an old building I lived in) were climbing up and down ladders, helping some invalid lady get back into her apartment. The invalid lady was actually sitting in a full bathtub which was perched atop a swinging, crane-like ladder.

      Everybody had gotten the invalid woman (who was a woman from an old neighborhood I lived in) into her house. They were all going away. I realized now that I needed to get the stuff from the invalid woman's apartment.

      I looked out the window and saw my mom sitting in a tub similar to the one the woman had been sitting in. I knew my mom was going to take care of the invalid woman. I called to my mom to get the stuff I needed from the invalid woman's apartment. My aunt has asked for it, I told her.

      My mom got upset and yelled at me that she wasn't going to get anything, and that my aunt was just being selfish. I came to understand that the stuff in question were these small, white, pebble-type things. They were used as a kind of fuel for a special waterbed that acted as a kind of room service. I understood that my aunt had run out of her white rocks and that she now felt she should be able to get the rocks from anybody else's supply if she wanted.

      Now that I understood what was going on, I wasn't so interested in getting the rocks for my aunt. I was now by myself in the invalid woman's kitchen. The white rocks were on the old woman's table, in a purple-pink container that looked like, and may even have said, Raid bug spray. The container was squarish and may have had two nozzles or spouts.

      I read, somewhere, about the room-service waterbed. The waterbed could always make coffee and tea, with no fuel. But for anything other than coffee and tea, white rocks were needed. (I seemed to be reading this off a brown, plastic plate which may have served as kind of a caution sign on the side of a waterbed.) With enough white rocks, however, the waterbed could bring you just about anything you wanted.

      I was in a coffee shop like a Starbucks. The store was long, and the back half, where I was, was almost empty. It was dim. I was heading for a line to get some coffee when I realized there was a vending machine to my right. It sold silver canisters full of the white rocks. The canisters looked like a mix between stainless steel thermoses and popcorn poppers. I figured I'd pick one up and pay for it at the register for my aunt.

      But now, in a vending to the right of the rock machine, I saw a lot of plastic bubbles full of what looked like candy hearts. But somewhere among those bubbles there was a slip of paper talking about the rocks. It said the white rocks (called "wenclets") and the room-service waterbed were as bad as drugs, and that they had destroyed the lives of teenagers.

      I looked away from both vending machines. I figured I'd just go get my coffee. But now I saw, through a glass door at the back end of the coffee shop (leading into a mall?) a big, black man staring at me. I knew he'd seen me looking at the wenclets and candyy hearts. I thought he'd think of me now as either a drug dealer or a narc. I turned away from the man, toward the line and the front of the store. But I was suddenly afraid.

      Dream #3

      I was looking at an internet site that advertised little girls. The site sold the little girls, basically as life-long love slaves. All the girls were pretty, and the photos showed them out having fun on playgrounds and in nature.

      I was now going to have a meal with my friend H. It turned out that she had either bought or was in the process of buying a couple of these girls for herself.
    7. Susan Faludi flies away

      by , 11-02-2010 at 12:10 AM
      (Good -- um... afternoon, everybody. On the weekdays, I usually write my dreams in the morning, on my subway ride in to work. But this morning I didn't think I remembered any dreams.

      Then, sitting at work (really stressing over something, in fact), I suddenly recalled this dream. Weird.

      The dream is weird. I'd say at least part of the influence on it is the fact that over the past couple days I've been reading Jack Kerouac's Book of Dreams. In one dream, Kerouac meets Dinah Shore. That dream was so charming, I think I also wanted to have a dream where I met a celebrity. So my unconscious obliged... kinda.)

      Susan Faludi was out in the desert doing research on a new book she was writing. The book was similar to The Terror Dream. But this book had less to do with feminism and more to do with some general national conspiracy. I probably identified with Faludi or saw through her eyes.

      Faludi had discovered whatever it was she had been trying to discover. She may now have been standing by her car in an empty road in the middle of the desert. Faludi may have slammed down the trunk or hatchback of her car with an air of finality.

      She intended to go somewhere. Instead of taking her car, which now may not even have existed, she flew up into the air, possibly by means of a red and white striped parachute.

      She flew away to her right, along the road. She knew that she actually needed to head along the road, but in the opposite direction. She flew over a small overpass. This overpass was a landmark telling her she was definitely going in the wrong direction.

      The wind was carrying her in this direction, although she "had control" over "her power of flight." She kept telling herself that she would work up the momentum of the wind in order to get swinging around in the correct direction.

      But she kept flying and flying in the wrong direction. It was now night. Faludi was in the woods. It was cold and snowing. Still flying along the highway, I/Faludi (I definitely was part of her decision making process here) saw a billboard. The billboard was on a 50-foot tall, steel column.

      I knew that if I/she grabbed on to the guard rail in front of the walkway before the billboard, I/she could stop the uncontrolled flight and at least get my/her bearings. So Faludi grabbed the railing and did some kind of elastic flip onto the walkway before the billboard.

      The walkway was snowy and lit by a few fluorescent flood lamps. Othewise, everything was snowy, cotton-grey dark. Some pine trees may have reached as high as the billboard.

      Faludi huddled behind some weird, clear, plastic rectangle which I figured was some kind of a solar panel for powering the billboard's lights. Faludi thought she could call someone, perhaps her husband, to pick her up here. But it was just so cold, and she felt like it would take forever for someone to get here.

      I had a false awakening. I was going about my "daily life" when somebody, possibly my mother, told me that Susan Faludi had died. I was really surprised and upset. I regretted the fact that I'd never gotten to meet her.

      But it also seemed weird that Faludi should have died. She had always seemed like such a healthy person to me.

      Somehow I saw a photo of her -- possibly on the web. The photo showed Faludi in a motorized wheelchair, like they have at the front of grocery stores, the kind that look almost like cars or scooters with baskets on the front. Faludi was overweight, with short, grey hair. She wore a white t-shirt and black slacks, both of which were sloppy and tight on her.

      Again, this didn't make sense. I thought, There's no way Faludi could have changed this quickky. I began to doubt seriously whether Faludi was in fact dead.

      (Just one small note on this, from November 14th. After looking at some news images, I realize that the image Susan Faludi is hiding behind in the snow is a teleprompter. I'm not sure why a teleprompter is hanging out on a billboard. And I'm not sure why I thought it was a solar panel.

      But, then again, I'm still not sure why this dream involved Susan Faludi. The actions in this dream are completely the opposite of what I feel Falud's actions would be. They're more like what I think my own actions would be. So maybe the dream is saying I wish I was like Susan Faludi, but that I'm just still horribly, embarrassingly like myself. Oh, well.)

      Updated 11-14-2010 at 10:10 PM by 37466 (Added note at end)

      non-lucid , false awakening , side notes
    8. Big buildings, restaurants, small rooms, deserts

      by , 10-22-2010 at 12:40 PM
      Good morning

      (I think this is a single dream, because I can't remember waking up at any time. Usually I do remember waking up between dreams.)

      I was with a woman about my age. She was my friend. I had helped her out with some kind of work, possibly homework. Now I was walking with her into her workplace.

      She took me around the building. The buidling she worked in was some kind of official building, and access to it was somewhat restricted. I had always wanted to see inside. Since I had helped her with her work, my friend took me on a private tour.

      We got to some wall-sized window that was as wide as a hallway. It looked out across a small courtyard and across to another wall of the building. It was late afternoon, and the windows on the opposite wall were orange with sunset.

      I knelt down, possibly to write something in a notebook. But I soon realized that my friend had to get to work. She had been kind enough to show me around, I thought, and I shouldn't take up any more of her time.

      We walked to a big, black-stone, triangular front desk in a huge, glass-walled lobby. My friend worked here as something like a security guard.

      I now walked toward the doors, through a moderately busy crowd of business people.

      I was outside the building. It may have been early afternoon. The light was a dimmish grey-blue in the shade of the building.

      I was waiting for a friend. Now I saw her. She looked like my old friend P. She may have been walking with a tall, handsome, blonde businessman.

      My friend and I started talking. We walked into a building adjacent to the one I had just left. The lobby of this building was huge as well, but without any windows. The fluorescent light made everything look a little greenish and dirty.

      To my left I saw one of my old co-workers, MD, walking past. I went to catch up and say hi. But when I got up to the person, he turned out to be someone completely different. I greeted him anyway. He said I was confused and walked on.

      I went back to my friend and told her that MD always did stuff like that, pretending to be somebody else. I laughed a little.

      I was now in a cafeteria. I sat in a small, booth-style seat. A line of people behind my seat, running along the food-serving counter, just kept getting longer and longer. It didn't seem like anybody was getting served.

      I heard some man and woman in line talking about a movie called Schizophrenia. I got excited, thinking I recognized the movie. I went to the man and woman and asked, "Were you just talking about Schizophrenia, the movie by Dario Argento?"

      (I think I meant the movie Suspiria.)

      The man and woman just stared at me blankly, as if they didn't know how to respond, and they didn't want to speak to me, while they also didn't want to be rude. I felt ashamed, so I walked away.

      As I was thinking of leaving the cafeteria altogether, a man called out to me, "Hey! You like to movie Schizophrenia?"

      I said, "Yeah."

      I turned to the man, who was leaning on a trashcan. He was tall, pale, with jaw-length, greying brown hair and a broad face. He wore a tan jacket.

      The man started telling me how insane it was to work on the set of the film. He said that people stayed in character all the time. So sometimes you had these disgusting zombies all over the place. It was almost like a horror film itself.

      I laughed and said, "I guess it's like those Day of the Dead movies." I lifted up my right leg and scratched it. I pulled up my sock. I felt a little embarrassed having mentioned Day of the Dead. I didn't know if that was a movie that people who liked Schizophrenia thought was cool.

      I now had a vision of blue human figures roiling about in tan gravel. It was very disturbing. I thought, This is what the man must have seen.

      I was now with a group of friends. We were heading into a McDonalds that was on the second floor of a building. The McDonalds was dark and empty (it was late at night).

      I stood at the register with one of my old co-workers, L, who is tall, pale, and overweight. We waited at the register, but no workers came to serve us.

      Larry started saying something about this being just the kind of thing you can expect when you're dealing with labor unions. He then stopped himself and said, "I better not say that too loud. They're liable not to serve us. Or they're liable to harm us in some way for talking bad about them."

      I thought, wouldn't it be funny if you had to serve yourself at this McDonalds? If that was how bad things had gotten?

      I imagined myself in this empty McDonalds, going into the back area and fixinjg all my food. Then I would pay a computerized register for everything.

      We seemed now to be driving away from the McDonalds. But I was still imagining things. I imagined that things had gotten so bad that you couldn't even cook your food at the McDonalds anymore. You just had to eat it ice cold.

      I could see a frozen Egg McMuffin as part of an ad. Apparently, the ad was trying to make eating frozen-solid food sound desirable, trying to trick everybody into not realizing McDonalds just didn't want to cook their food anymore.

      I was now in the bedroom of a big house. I was on a top floor. The walls were brick. I was getting ready for bed.

      A woman had told me, before I'd gone into the room, that there was a group of something like fundamentalist Christians on the loose. If they caught you doing anything non-normal, they'd kill you. They could sneak into your bedroom, too.

      I pulled all the blankets down on the bed, revealing light-green sheets. I figured I'd lay on the sheets, not under the blankets, and with my head at the foot of the bed. I wouldn't read anything, because reading was considered non-normal. And I would try to keep perfectly still. This way nobody would think I was doing something non-normal. But if they decided to attack me, I also wouldn't be encumbered by my blankets.

      My light was still on when I lay down. I heard a sudden laugh from outside my door and down the hall. It sounded like my old friend D laughing and flirting with a girl.

      I stood up to go see what was going on. In my mind's eye I could see a yellow latex glove.

      I was now outside, in some backyard area at night. It was snowing, and the snow was about six inches deep on the ground. A woman had told me before I'd come out here not to venture outside, because the severe weather conditions would kill me. Now I hoped she wouldn't discover I'd been outside and punish me.

      I walked into a small, wooden, shed-like house. The door was wide open. My friend D was inside, lying on his bed, which was near the door. The room was cluttered, but in a comfortable way.

      D told me he was going to venture outside. I thought that was a dangerous idea, as the woman might punish us if we went back outside. But D went anyway.

      I looked out into the severe conditions (which weren't very severe now -- it wasn't snowing, and the snow on the ground was mostly melted). A few moments later, I'd realized that D had gotten into a dangerous situation.

      I rushed outside to help him. He had fallen into a narrow hole just as wide as, and a bit taller than, a human being. D had been in the hole so long in these severe conditions that he was now frozen solid!

      I rushed to help him out of the hole. I might have had the help of a woman. D was now a woman. She was tall, with deep-copper skin and long, black hair. She had a slightly large, soft belly and big breasts.

      I hugged the woman, crying because I'd thought she'd died.

      I stood back from the woman. We were in the desert, with sagebrush all around us. The woman was wearing a horizontal striped shirt of purple, yellow, and black, and a pair of pale blue jeans. I wondered why I was so attracted to this woman. She didn't seem so attractive to me. But I was just so happy to see her alive that I again hugged her and cried deeply.

      I was now on the second floor of some building, in an area that looked like a small school cafeteria. I either was Jaden Smith or I was watching a movie in which Jaden Smith played a boy who had been homeless but was now living in a shelter.

      The boy ended up needing to save somebody. So I/he decided I/he would. It involved some act like going into a room and shoving either his/my head or whole body into water.

      When I did this, I woke up laying face-down in the sand in a box canyon in the desert. I figured I must have done something wrong, because I had no idea where I was.

      I looked to my left. I saw the woman I had saved. Behind and beyond her, on either side of the box canyon, were women standing against the walls (which were pretty sheer, and a sun-baked brown). The women were dressed in shimmery, Ancient Egyptian style dressed. They also had wings. They would lift their wings (and arms?) slowly up and then slide them slowly down.

      I figured that since something like this was going on, I must have done the right thing. I at first lay back down on the (cool? moist?) sand. But then I got up and started walking through the desert.

      Only a small distance away was a small park. It looked like a normal city park: trees, lawn, shade. It didn't look like a desert at all.

      I walked up to a group of people who were having a picnic. There was a man in the family who was nitpicking everybody. Finally he may have walked away.

      I was in the backseat of a minivan. My dad had driven me and my brother somewhere, possibly to the airport. He let us out. My brother, in the front seat, said goodbye to my dad and went into the building.

      I opened the back door, told my dad goodbye, and got out. I could tell my dad was disappointed and a little angry that I hadn't said more to him. It had been so long since I'd seen him. Now I was leaving with few words.

      So I got back in the van and said something nice to my dad. He reached back and hugged me.

      We got out of the van, which may now have been a car. We went back to the trunk.

      I now hugged my dad even more and started crying. I apologized for not being around when my aunt died. I felt horrible. My dad handed me a sheet of paper. Typed on both sides of it were small paragraphs talking about all the ways in which I'd failed my family. At the top of the second side was a paragraph mentioning my not being around when my aunt died. I couldn't read anything very well because I was crying so much.

      The piece of paper eventually became a magazine and then something like an online news program. The show I was watching was about the top 10 crimes of the year.

      One crime was a person who had killed a police woman when she went to address a 911 call at a house. I now saw a video. It turned out that four family members and the cop had been killed. The video showed the four family members' bodies lying in a field of gravel and patchy grass. The bodies were laid two-by-two. The heads of the one pair were placed against the heads of the other pair, so that the feet faced in opposite directions.

      The woman officer had been found buried. The video showed the officer's body unburied, curled up, and covered in dirt.

      The video now did all kinds of strange panning moves, as if the camera were all alone in the field, floating around and filming the bodies in an experimental-film kind of way.

      I now heard the narrator (?) mention the next crime. My view changed into a tall, pale man wearing a grey sweater and grey cap. He had shaggy hair and a shaggy beard and glasses.

      The narrator mentioned that the man was owner of a fetish bookstore. He had molested and killed a number of little girls. The narrator listed his crimes, which ranged from some terrible stuff down to "blocking people with his legs so they couldn't go anywhere."

      I saw a view of the man in something that looked like a school hallway, heading into a restroom.