• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. giant art; art cartel; reading stairway

      by , 02-14-2012 at 12:59 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a museum with enormous rooms. The paintings were also enormous. The walls of the rooms may have been twenty or so meters tall. The paintings were just as tall.

      I may have been with a group of people, possibly a school group. But I had broken off from them for some reason or another, and I was now walking around by myself.

      But I was afraid to go into any of the rooms very far. The paintings on the walls were so gigantic. I was afraid they'd fall on me and smash me. So I could barely go beyond the threshold into rooms.

      One room was kind of dimly lit, like from a dirty set of windows in the ceiling. I saw a pair of paintings in the room. The paintings were, I told myself, either by Goya or El Greco.

      The paintings had the same subject: a young man in rich attire, something like pink, satin pants and a white shirt. The paintings stood opposite each other in a kind of side niche in the room. I wanted to examine the paintings closer, but I was too afraid of them falling on me.

      I left this room -- I think -- and went into another room. The paintings were also huge in this room. But I may have been getting braver about being around the paintings, and I may have stepped quite a few meters into the room.

      But now I looked up and saw that there were also paintings in the ceiling, the rest of the ceiling being made out of thick, ornate wood, like in the Rose Reading Room of the New York Public Library. I was now afraid of the ceiling paintings falling on me. They seemed like they'd be heavier than the wall paintings.

      Dream #2

      It was a greyish day. I was either treading water in a river, moving backwards slowly in a small boat, like a rowboat, in a river, or standing on a walkway through or at the edge of a river.

      I may at first have been with a group of older, well-off people, like a tour group. But I'd broken away from the group a bit. The group were all walking along the walkway.

      The river was wide, and at the other end of it was a big, kind of square, building. The building faced the river directly, starkly: it may even have been a bit cantilevered over the river.

      The building was made of some kind of white stone, but the front of it, or the side facing the river, was of slightly tinted glass. This windowed section curved around the sides of the building as well, giving the white stone of the building a kind of backwards "C" shape.

      I knew that the building was an art museum. It was the Art Museum of Mexico or the Mexico Museum of Art. It was a very good and nice museum. But it was also used -- especially the enormous room overlooking the river -- by drug cartels for arranging certain deals.

      People liked to visit the museum. But people who went there were always afraid. You always had to be careful not to hear things, or at least not to act like you heard things. And you couldn't offend any person in any way. If you offended someone or acted like you'd overheard some drug deal being arranged, you could be killed.

      But for some reason I was feeling defiant. I was going to go into the museum and I wasn't going to act afraid at all. Besides, it was the Mexico Museum of Art. It was full of great works of art. I'd be really disappointed in myself if I didn't see the art works there.

      Dream #3

      I was in some building. I was near a staircase. Apparently I'd always come here to this place to read. Other people did, too. But I'd come to have a favorite spot for reading on the staircase. And I'd read there all the time.

      There were some guys who'd decided to follow me around. They thought I was really smart. They were jealous of me. They wanted to figure out everything I was doing and studying. They thought if they read everything I read, they could get smarter than they thought I was.

      One of these guys was an old, kind of tall, white man with a big belly. He wore nice slacks and a nice button-up shirt. He saw I was heading toward the staircase to read. So he either took the place I always took or took a place a few steps higher than my place. Wherever he sat, his plan was to look down at what I was doing, so he could do it, too, and hopefully beat me at it.

      I tried to figure out what to do. I didn't really care if people knew what I was doing. I tried to be open about that. But I felt annoyed. I may have thought I'd hide whatever I was doing, just to annoy the man back a little. Or I may have thought I'd just act unperturbed, like the man didn't bother me, or didn't exist at all.
    2. skateboarder falls off cliff

      by , 07-24-2011 at 01:02 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      It was night. I walked out (from where) onto the peak of a big hill or mountain. The peak of the mountain was kind of thin and knobby. It seemed to be made of a pink stone like sandstone. There were little stretches of green vegetation like moss or short grass. Below the peak, the mountain seemed to wind around in spires and caverns. There were even a few waterfalls. The air was very calm and cool.

      There were a few groups of people on the mountain, doing different things. There was a group of policemen sitting near the peak of the mountain. I sat near them. I looked down the mountain and saw a group of skateboarders skating down a sandstone ramp.

      The police may have been talking about some job they were on. They may have been looking for some woman for some reason or another.

      The skateboarders had all gone to the bottom of the ramp, possibly together. Now they all came back up together. I was kind of wondering if it was okay to be skating out in a natural area like this. But the kids were getting ready to skate again. So I figured I'd watch.

      A black boy, kind of tall, maybe in his late teens, skated down part of the ramp. But he ended up going down a side ramp off to his right. The ramp sloped upward, over the edge of the moutain. The boy lifted up into the air and then disappeared off the cliff. There was no sound of his crashing, although the boy may have made a little sound of surprise as he went off the cliff.

      I kind of waited for a second. It seemed like everybody, including the cops, had seen the young man flying off the cliff. But the police didn't seem to care. They just kept talking about this job of looking for a woman.

      Finally I told the police that they probably should look for this boy. He obviously just fell off a cliff, and he was in danger. I even bent over, while still sitting, to get a view down the mountain through some kind of hole made in the sandstone. I saw the boy below, lying face down on a ledge of sandstone.

      It was pretty obvious the boy was dead, and I told the police so. They grunted a bit and stood up reluctantly, saying they'd go check things out. In the meantime, however, I was apparently charged with the task of finding the woman.

      I walked down one of the sandstone slopes. But then I was suddenly in a house. I was in an area like a living room. It was really wide, but it also felt short somehow. There were a lot of windows and sliding glass doors. It was night, and the house felt lit, but not completely.

      I had to search along all the walls, even feeling along the walls and down at the corners where the walls met the floors. The woman was apparently in a small space like this. All this time I was either having a conversation with myself in my head or hearing or remembering hearing the police talking, probably about the woman.