• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    maboroshi

    1. house-sitting; non-consenting sex; snuff film bookstore

      by , 02-07-2012 at 02:47 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      A man who was probably in his late forties was having me house-sit for him. The man was probably rich. He had a pretty big apartment in Manhattan. He seemed gay, and his face looked a little soft and worn out.

      The man showed me around his apartment. The apartment seemed like it could have been in an old building. But it seemed to be in a new building, or at least to be surrounded by a lot of new buildings.

      But even though the apartment was big and nice, it was really messy. There was clutter everywhere. Nothing was organized. Everything was so packed together. It didn't seem like a very comfortable place to live.

      I walked around the apartment with and without the man. The apartment had two halves, like two wide, narrow rectangles. There must have been more rooms. But the rectangles were wide enough already to give the apartment a lot of space.

      At one point I walked through a kitchen. There was a bunch of old garbage in the sink. There was even something that looked like a dead pigeon. It looked all wet and gross, like it was starting to rot. But somehow I determined that the pigeon was a fake pigeon, like a stuffed animal. Since it had never been alive, I thought, it couldn't die and rot.

      A little while later I must have thought I was by myself, even though I didn't think the man had gone on his trip yet. I kept looking out the windows of the apartment. There were windows everywhere. I was worried that people would look in and see me, especially while I was doing something gross, like masturbating.

      I also worried that some of the man's friends would find that I was house-sitting. I worried that the people would look down on me and make it known to me somehow that they disapproved of the man allowing some low person like myself to house-sit for him.

      I may have considered cleaning up the man's house. I may also have considered masturbating. But now the man woke up. I could see him sitting up on a huge but sparse and dishevelled bed in a room full of yellow light. The man and I walked around the house again.

      I was now with my brother. We were in a cafeteria on the first floor of the apartment building -- like the building was a new, enormous apartment building or office building. We were getting some food for the man.

      My brother then got some food for himself, as the man had told him. I'd also been told to get some food. But I didn't really want anything. But rather than have anybody worry about me, I just decided to get something. But whatever it was I got, I knew it was such junk food that the man and my brother would ridicule me for it.

      Dream #2

      A boy, maybe five or six years old, stood before me. His back was to me. He only wore a pair of white underwear. It was planned that the boy and I would have sex. But I didn't want to. I didn't want to get in trouble for having sex with a child, and I didn't want to have sex with a male.

      But the boy was a part of the whole plan. He was going to make me have sex with him The boy began fondling me and then moving up against me.

      The boy was moving his backside so that he was directing me into him. All this time I hoped I'd find my way under his backside and into a vagina, discovering that the boy was actually a girl, so I wouldn't have to be with a boy. But it didn't happen. And, in spite of myself, I was feeling really aroused.

      Dream #3

      I was with my mom and sister in a car. We had gone to some bookstore. The bookstore was the first branch of a very small chain. The second branch was closing down. So we were visiting the original store to see how it was doing.

      But for some reason only my mom went in. It seemed like she was taking a really long time in the store. So I decided to go inside and see what she was doing.

      The store was kind of big, but really dingy. The light was a white, fluorescent light. The floors and shelves were grey and old. The place looked more like an old video store than a bookstore.

      I found myself in some section selling videos. There was a poster of a bunch of grotesque imagery that I thought was scenes out of a horror film. But it turned out to be a poster for the video Faces of Death. It may actually have been for Faces of Death III.

      I now understood that these images were of actual people, dying in really gross ways. Some of the people looked like their bodies and heads were melted. Others were decapitated. Others had gigantic holes gouged through their bodies.

      I looked around me. This section was filled with nothing but snuff films and posters for snuff films. I wasn't terribly grossed out. But I decided to get out of the area.

      I walked up a small staircase to the back half of the store. The place seemed to be empty, except for a few pieces of exercise equipment, which also seemed to be on sale.

      I saw an older, kind of fat man with grey hair, tinted eyeglasses, and a black t-shirt standing somewhere, maybe reflected in a mirror wall. I felt like he would have done something bad to me if I'd gotten close to him. So I turned around and headed out of the store.

      As I exited the store I realized that this place was closing down, just like the second branch had closed down. The whole chain of bookstores must have been going out of business. Everything in the store was on sale for clearance prices -- even the exercise equipment.

      I was then back in the car with my mom and sister. My mom was driving away. We were heading out of a small parking lot and onto a small road that wound in between two tight, forested hills. My mom and I spoke about how the bookstore chain was shutting down.
    2. hugging sisters and boys in cafe

      by , 11-20-2011 at 03:08 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was standing in a corridor that looked like it had a wheelchair ramp built into it. The wall I faced was a window wall, extending all the way down the corridor. There may have been a hairpin turn along the wall to get to a tiny, glass-walled space before the exit door.

      I probably stood right at the door, inside the building. Outside stood a family. They were all telling me goodbye. The family was white, kind of well-off-looking. There were an older dad, probably a mom, and a bunch of other people.

      There were two little girls in the family, and I may have been attracted to the littler one. She may have been five or six years old.

      I took some chance to hug the little girl. I had a feeling that if I hugged her, we could both share our feelings of attraction for one another in some secret way. I was sure she was attracted to me, too. But I didn't want to get in trouble for showing my feelings.

      Later on I may have been in some cafe. I may have been sitting at a table with a white boy. The table we sat at was against a wall. I sat on one end of the table so that the wall was to my right. The boy sat at the adjacent end, so that he faced the wall.

      He was probably gay. He was tall, kind of pretty. He had his hair shaved really close on the sides and then kind of flowing on top. He wore a grey jacket, and he may have had the collar of the jacket turned up.

      The boy was kind of stuck-up, it seemed to me. I was pretty sure he hated me. I didn't want to bother him. But I was also kind of angry that he acted so stuck-up. I felt threatened, and I wanted to prove somehow that I wasn't threatened.

      I was now back with the family at the door. The older sister was now talking to me. The older sister was maybe ten or eleven years old. She had blonde-brown hair and tan skin. She wore a white skirt and a turquoise tank-top.

      The older sister told me that the little sister had gotten sick or something, so she couldn't hug anybody. So the older sister would have to hug me instead.

      I knew that the older sister was attracted to me. I knew that she thought if she could just get a chance to hug me, she'd make me attracted to her instead of to her little sister.

      I hugged the girl. She wasn't skinny, but her body, around her waist, felt strong. I did feel like I was attracted to her. But I didn't want her family to know. I didn't want to get in trouble.

      I walked out the door with the family. I either held hands with the older sister or managed to do something with her like lift her up onto my shoulders, so she was riding on my shoulders.

      Everybody in the family seemed pretty happy. For some reason, I asked the girl something either like, "If you knew this was the last day of your life, what would you do?" or, "If this were the last day of your life, could you truly say you've died happy?"

      I was now back in the cafe with the tall, white boy. I had apparently asked him some question as well. He was writing something in a notebook. His handwriting was mostly capital letters, very blocky, in something like black, felt-tip pen. But he was also answering me. I had a feeling that he was finally coming around to liking me.

      Then another boy sat across the table from me. He had olive skin and black hair, with his bangs kind of spiked down a bit over his forehead. He wore a brownish sweatshirt. He also seemed to be gay.

      The first boy had at some point gone to open the door of the cafe so that some cool air could flow in. But the second boy sat next to the thermostat. He turned up the heat.

      The first boy asked the second boy if he'd turned up the heat. The second boy said he had. It wasn't clear whether he'd done it because the open door was making him cold or because he wanted to keep the heat at a level that was sure to annoy the first boy.

      The first boy stood up to go close the cafe door, assuming that if he did that, the second boy would turn down the thermostat. But as he stood up, the first boy said to the second boy, "You know, I'm really beginning to despise you."
    3. stage photo for sister

      by , 08-26-2011 at 12:03 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was part of some situation that was like a TV show. In the show, there was some guy, who was either a young man or a young man dressed up like an old man. As the young man, he may have been clean-cut and slightly effeminate, wearing some kind of plaid, Abercrombie-style shirt. As the young man made up as an old man, he had white hair and wore a black suit.

      The man and I were with a few other people. The man started talking about how he was gay. I said it didn't matter to me whether he was gay. I said that I wasn't gay.

      There was now a transition scene, maybe to a commercial. The transition scene showed a bunch of hot girls in spandex suits like exercise outfits doing some kind of hip-hop dance on a big, wooden platform, like the floor of a dance studio. But this "floor" was either elevated above buildings, on the roof of a building, or attached like a ledge to a building. The camera panned away, revealing a huge city.

      I was now in a theatre. It was like the program I'd come to watch had finished. We were all leaving the theatre. There were only a few people left in the seats. I was up in the balcony. A female friend of mine stood to my right. Looking down to the stage area, I saw a big, wooden platform. It almost looked like a gigantic, wooden bed frame, with a tall, narrow mirror as the headboard.

      I told my female friend, "That's what my sister wanted me to take a picture of! She'd told me she wanted a souvenir shot of the big bed from the show. I had no idea what she was talking about. But now I remember it!" I also remembered that the "big bed" was the platform the dancers had been on during the transition scene.

      I pulled out a camera and started to take a picture. There were two girls, one in her early teens and one a bit younger, standing by the stage. The older girl wore a long, maroon sweater and a wool cap, and she had straight, black hair that flowed almost down to her waist.

      Either as the dream ended or as I woke up, I thought it would be a good idea to ask the two girls to stand near the "big bed," so I could illustrate the size of the bed by using them as reference points.
    4. wrong trains and father; boy, girl, and power plant; lingerie shop and poem

      by , 08-22-2011 at 01:48 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was at a train station at night. I might have been with one other person. Otherwise, the place was empty. The station was like a short, long, covered platform with fluorescent lights, with another platform, which was uncovered and completely dark. It kind of felt like I was in the middle of nowhere.

      One train came on the tracks at the covered platform. I noticed either that it was the wrong train or that it was going in the wrong direction. It was like these trains were running on subway lines, even though I wasn't familiar with these lines.

      There might have been two different lines at this station. Both the lines had "Queens" as one of their final destinations. One of the lines had a town that sounded like "Cambridgeshire" (???) as the second of its final destinations.

      I was looking for a train heading away from Queens. Another train was arriving, this time at the uncovered tracks. I was pretty sure it was heading away from Queens, so I thought it might be the right train. I walked over to the train.

      The train was very tall, with the actual car maybe one and a half meters off the ground. The inside of the train was totally dark. The train was about to pull away. I got the impression that this was the wrong train. To double check, right before the train pulled away, I jumped up twice into the air, flashing a "sign" (basically, my hands were both lifted up and spread out, as if I were trying to give someone two high-fives) into the train.

      I knew now that this was the wrong train. The train may have started to pull away. I realized some person in control of some kind of rail operations had seen me flash the signs into the train. I wondered if he would think I was trying to cause some trouble, or that I had thrown something dangerous onto the train.

      I walked away from the platform. I may have been hoping to find my friend and stick to him, so that nobody would think I was dangerous.

      I was now with my brother and sister in a kitchen. The kitchen was probably really dim, which may have made it feel really small and crowded. We were gathered around a smallish, round, fake-wood table. One or two of us may have been standing. The other/s was/were standing.

      One of us, possibly my sister, may have mentioned something bad about the way my dad had been treating us. Later, somehow, I saw my dad. He was talking to me or to everybody. But he couldn't remember my name. It was simply like he hadn't had anything to do with me for so long that he couldn't remember my name. He may have apologized for this fact. I may have told him it was okay.

      Later, my dad was changing diapers. He may have been changing my diapers, although I seemed to be at least partly separated from the person changed, and the person being changed probably did seem like a small baby. The diaper was a small diaper, for a really litttle baby. It was full of urine, and it smelled horrible.

      My dad may have been balling up this diaper. He may now actually have been complaining, as if his inability to remember my name were an actual shortcoming of my own.

      Dream #2

      I was out on a sunny balcony. The floor was probably concrete. The barrier and the apartment wall may have been bright white. I may have been sitting at something like a school desk, looking out and across to another huge building.

      There was a black man behind me. He was a schoolteacher. Apparently I had been studying the subject he taught, all on my own. He was very impressed by the amount of independent interest I'd shown in his subject. He gave me some words of encouragement, then said he was going to teach his class now.

      There was apparently a window to my left. I heard it open. I knew that the teacher's classroom was actually the room with the window. I looked in through the screen as the teacher began his lesson. He had erased something off a chalkboard and then written a long, kind of complex equation on the board. Somehow he made it very easy to understand, very simple.

      I realized the teacher had been giving the lecture for me. So I decided to at least go in and listen, to show him I was thankful that he'd thought of me. I walked into the building.
      Before the classroom there was a small alcove. I had left "my backpack" in this alcove. My textbook (as if I were actually in the teacher's class now) was in my backpack. As I went to get it, I passed the doorway into the classroom. I saw that everybody in the classroom was sitting in very small chairs, possibly with no desks.

      The teacher began to criticize everybody for some kind of sloppy aspect of their work. It may have had something to do with not bringing either their work or their textbooks to class. I felt like this criticism was largely directed at me. But I felt like at least today I couldn't be criticized for not bringing my book to class.

      I opened my backpack and pulled my book out. It was jammed into my backpack, amid a whole bunch of loose papers, possibly with equations all over them.

      I was now out on a street in the suburbs. I was trying to get somewhere on time. I had probably left class at an awkward time specifically so I could get to this other place on time. I was walking along a street which may have felt like it was along some kind of ridge, looking down to an expanse of blocks of houses. The sky was dim, smoky grey, almost dirty-coppery.

      I felt drops of rain. I thought I should head back home (?) to get either a raincoat or an umbrella. I actually turned back and walked a few steps "toward home." But I decided that since I was wearing a red, waterproof jacket, I didn't need either a raincoat or umbrella. I turned back in the direction of my destination.

      I now felt a lot of rain. I turned back again, thinking I really should go back home for something. But I turned right back around, toward my destination. I figured if I hurried I could make it without getting extremely wet.

      At the same time I heard a group of young boys, maybe ten or so years old, rough-housing with each other. One of the boys, a kind of shaggy-haired, blonde boy with gold-tan skin and wearing a baggy, green, plaid, flannel shirt and baggy jeans, recognized me. He shouted out to me in his rough-housing voice.

      I kept walking, as if I didn't hear the boy. I knew I had promised before that I would play with him. But I couldn't do it now. I had to get to my destination. If the boy were to think I'd heard him, he'd follow me. And I didn't want him to follow me, either. I thought he'd get bored. I walked faster away.

      But the boy kept following me. He called after me. I was walking fast, almost running, along a grass ridge looking down to the blocks of houses in the valley. Finally I said to the boy, "Fine. You can come along -- if you can follow me!"

      I started running down a street on a slope. But I was running in something like a crawling position. But the crawling was very fast and low, almost like the height and speed of Luke Skywalker's flying car in Star Wars. (Although, on waking, I'd thought that my running position had been something like that of a scorpion.)

      It was raining a lot by now. I "ran" down a steeply sloped street and then down a gently sloped street. I sped through a few more streets, zigzagging around corners. But the boy was still behind me.

      I was now probably approaching my destination. I was in an area that felt like it was indoors, even though it probably was outdoors. The sky (if it was a sky) was dark.

      I ran past a power plant, which was a huge area, full of shiny, silvery metal pipes, all tightly banded together, and weird, beaker-shaped structures maybe three meters tall, also made out of the silvery metal, but with some kind of blue circles on them, possibly on their bases.

      It was like I was "running" on a path or aisle space around this power plant. The power plant was on my left. As I turned a corner to my left, a grocery store chain's warehouse stood on the right side of the path. It was possibly for a Kroger's, King Sooper's, or Safeway chain.

      I ran around another left corner, but I found that the grocery warehouse building was going to merge with the power plant. It did, and as I rounded another corner, I found myself in a culdesac made out of the structures of the power plant and the walls of the grocery warehouse.

      I turned around. The boy hadn't gotten around this last corner, but he wasn't far behind. I ran into him at some kind of stairway or something. We were definitely indoors now.

      I looked to my right and saw, a ways away, a few women beyond a door and in something like a library. The women were all maybe in their mid or late twenties. They were all really pretty, with really nice bodies, and they were all dressed professionally.

      I "remembered" that I had just come from that library. I had had to take a subway home from there, possibly with a group of kids I had volunteered to supervise. We'd taken a cicrcuitous route, and we'd needed to change trains at least once. After all that trouble, I "remembered," we'd only gotten to this place. But this place was a very short walk from where we'd started! I kind of thought that sometimes the train was more trouble than it was worth.

      But as the boy and I walked through a set of swinging doors (like doors going into the back area of a grocery store, like a meat area), I looked back over to the girls in the library. I felt like if I kept looking at them long enough, while they were unaware of me, I'd catch some of them starting to make out with each other. I was pretty sure they were all gay, but that they were just hiding it from me.

      The boy and I were now in a small, foyer-like area. To my left, the area seemed to fade off into something like an outdoor area with a maze of metal staircases. To my right was another set of doors, hard double-doors like the entrance to the school. Before me was a window wall. It was night outside and dark in this foyer-like space.

      The boy was now a girl. She was a freshman in high school, and I was a senior in college. But this girl still liked me. And I probably liked her. There was another girl with us. She was probably my age.

      I left the situation. The older girl told the younger girl that if she liked me she should just go with it. She should tell me she liked me.

      There was now a view of the girl's family. The oldest son of the family was in a coma. The mother was watching over him. The son seemed to be laid out on a bed-like table in a room that kind of looked like a bedroom in a suburban house.

      Now the scene had changed. The woman was still watching over the oldest son. But the mother was now with another woman, or possibly another two women her age. None of the women may have been wearing pants.

      The mother told the other women, "My daughter told me, 'I don't care what you think! I'm just gonna live my life and love who I wanna love!'" The mother was saying this in a bragging tone, as if she were proud of her daughter standing up for herself and going out with an older boy.

      The mother walked away from the group, still talking about some of the things her daughter had said. The mother's panties were loose, and I saw something jutting out from the back of the crotch, like a maxi pad or a diaper.

      I was now standing out on some sidewalk, possibly in a space like out in front of an airport. It was morning. The sun was up, but it wasn't over the buildings, so there were little shafts of gold light and big pools of grey-blue shadow. It may have been cold outside.

      I was out on the sidewalk with a young man who probably looked a lot like Lance Loud from the reality show An American Family. The young man was in something like the situation the girl had been in. Except now the situation was that the young man was gay. He'd told his mother, but she didn't approve. They'd gotten into an argument and hadn't spoken with each other in a while.

      But now the oldest son had woken out of his coma and was coming with his mother to meet the young man. The car pulled up to the curb. The oldest son, who kind of looked like a young Andy Warhol in terrible, sixties-style clothes, got out of the car and greeted the young man.

      The oldest son said, "What's the deal man? I know you need to express yourself. But think of how I did it! Do it with a little more sense and tact."

      The oldest son himself was apparently gay. He had, however, broken the news to his mother with a lot better results.

      The oldest son then asked the young man, "By the way, do you have any cash I might be able to borrow?"

      The oldest son and the young man walked down a few cars, to an old, seventies-style cadillac which had just pulled up. It was a drug dealer's car. The oldest son and the young man were apparently going to shoot up on heroin right there, in front of everybody. The young man even had one of his sleeves rolled up!

      The three of us were now in some trash-strewn area at the base of columns for a bridge. We were all sitting in furniture, like a whole living froom set had been laid out in this trash-strewn area. We were all waiting for some guy, possibly someone like a drug dealer, or someone to gived us money for drugs.

      As we waited, the oldest son turned on a song by Elliott Smith, probably from his album Figure 8. I thought I knew the song. But I was only getting half the words. I wondered to myself if the oldest son liked Elliott Smith because he kind of sounded like Lance Loud. Lance Loud was something of a gay icon. So if Elliott Smith sounded like Lance Loud, maybe gay males sympathized with him. (WTF???)

      The next song to play was a Beatles song. It was to the tune of "This Boy," but it had something to do with the words "Sweet Girl" or "Sweet Angel." I managed to half-sing along with this song as well.

      I began to wonder if the young man was getting jealous of me. I knew all the songs the oldest son was playing. I seemed to be showing off that fact. Would the oldest son think I knew a lot, and would he fall in love with me? Was I taking the oldest son's love away from the young man? I may have stoppedd singing at this point, so it wouldn't look like I was singing to impress the oldest son.

      Dream #3

      I walked into a narrow-looking shop on a narrow, stage-like street of wood-fronted buildings. The store was something like a Victoria's Secret. It was getting close to closing time. There were three girls working at the shop, all talking with each other. None of them seemed too worried about my presence.

      I looked around the shop. There were all kinds of panties for little girls. There was apparently lingerie somewhere as well. For some reason I thought I'd try on some of the lingerie. I thought I'd buy some of the little girl panties and wear them while I tried on the lingerie. I thought I'd ask the women working at the store if they were okay with this. (WTF?)

      But the girls were still talking and joking with each other, apparently getting ready to close the shop for the night. And I still couldn't find the lingerie.

      I climbed up on top of one table and then scaled up a bunch of wall-mounted racks. High up in a rack I found more little girl's panties. One pair was pink, satiny, skinny-looking panties. Another pair was like satiny boy-short panties. They were mostly pink, with some blue on the hips. They also had some design like a weird, almost tribal-looking, but cartoony, butterfly on them.

      I mayy eventually have spoken with one of the girls.