• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. american family resentment; dad and doll-boy

      by , 12-10-2011 at 03:13 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      For anybody interested in time and dreams, I'm pretty sure that the first dream took place in less than one minute. I woke up to a police siren, fell asleep, had the dream, and woke up to another siren.

      Dream #1

      I was walking through a museum, along a second floor balcony overlooking a first floor kind of atrium area. It was probably night, and it seemed like more than half the lights in the museum were turned off. I may have been looking down to the first floor, to a few glass-cased displays along one of the walls.

      I was now listening to some man, who was supposed to be the father, Bill Loud, from the 1971 reality show An American Family. But the man sounded a bit younger and a bit meaner than Bill Loud. He was complaining to someone about how one of his sons, probably Lance, was too into museums.

      The man complained that now the son wanted the man to go to the museums with him. But the man said, "God, what makes him think I'm interested in going off to see a bunch of tropical colored, electrical fish?"

      I now sat at a dining table at the back end of the balcony area. This part of the balcony extended, it seemed, into the main part of the second floor. There may have been a number of tables here. The table I sat at was long, able to seat eight or ten people. But the only other person at the table was Lance Loud, who sat directly across from me.

      We sat mostly in darkness. The only light seemed to be coming from a kitchen area, behind me and maybe twenty or thirty meters away.

      I had looked down to the first floor at some point. It was now like a movie theatre, including a ground level and a balcony. And it was packed. I knew now that the creators of An American Family had come out with a new documentary, possibly further documenting the life of the Loud family.

      I thought of the creators of America as Frederick Wiseman, the great documentary filmmaker. But apparently Wiseman was actually twins. There were two Wisemans.

      Lance was here for the premiere of the new Wiseman documentary. But it was kind of against his will. He kind of resented the Wisemans. He felt like the An American Family reality show had ruined his family. The Wiseman twins knew that Lance felt that way. And they resented Lance as well.

      Lance was busy complaining to me about the Wiseman twins when they walked past us, heading toward a stairway down to the movie theatre.

      The Wiseman twins looked nothing like Frederick Wiseman. They looked more like short versions of the psychic researcher Russ Targ. They had puffy, curly, grey hair, though most of their forehead was bald. They were square-faced, though their faces were a bit wrinkly. One of the twins wore a white sweater. The other one wore a black leather jacket.

      As the twins passed us, one of them made a kind of rude remark to Lance in a deep, gravelly, but loose and relaxed kind of voice. The twins knew Lance didn't want to be here, and the twins didn't want Lance to be here.

      But one of the twins saw that I was sitting with Lance. He had walked to the top of the staircase. But now he turned around and came back to Lance. In a relaxed, but courteous tone he told Lance, "We're having a ----- after the show. You're more than welcome to come."

      The twin walked away. Lance said, really loud, so the twin could hear him, but in such a way as to sound like he was talking only to me, "Oh, like I'd actually want to go to something like that!"

      The ----- was something like a viewing of behind the scenes clips from the documentary. This was supposed to be of great interest to a lot of the people who had been involved with the film.

      Dream #2

      There was a man in maybe his forties who was the father of a girl in her early twenties. The father had had the chance on a couple occasions to be around the girl's circle of friends.

      The father felt like it was possible that one of the men in this group would want to marry the girl. The father didn't quite feel comfortable about this. The men seemed either like total screw-ups or like people who would kind of treat the girl in a mean way.

      But the father decided that he needed to get to know the guys better before he jumped to such conclusions about them.

      The father was now standing out on a driveway in the late afternoon. The father was white, with tan, tough skin and a square haircut of grey and white hair. He wore a white polo shirt. He was in shape, if not actually even muscular.

      The father thought it was a stroke of luck -- one of the girl's friends, the one, it seemed, the girl was most interested, was standing in the driveway as well. The father could get to know the guy.

      The guy was now standing before the garage. The garage door was open. An incandescednt light lit the garage. There was no car in the garage. But at the very front of the garage was a small shelf, on which sat a few doll-like girls' toys.

      The guy was standing there, staring at the doll-toys and giggling to himself. I was kind of concerned for the boy. I felt like the father might think the guy was some kind of pervert for being so interested in girls' toys. But the father didn't feel that way. The father just thought the guy was artistic, interested in these toys for an artistic reason.

      The father walked up to the guy to talk to him. The guy was a bit shorter than the father. He was pale white, about half bald, with short, disarranged hair on the rest of his head. He was a little chubby, and his flabby cheeks were dotted with stubble. He wore chunky, square eyeglasses and a too-big, blue-green t-shirt.

      The guy, sensing the father behind him, turned around, while still giggling at the girls' toys. He found himself face to face with the father.

      But the guy didn't feel he needed to acknowledge the father at all. He kept giggling about the toys, then turned off and to his right, walking toward and then into the front door of the house.
    2. 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.