• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. bilocation and psychiatrist

      by , 01-30-2012 at 02:42 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Sorry I haven't been around in a while. My waking life kind of toppled over for a bit. But I think I'm getting back to normal.

      Dream #1

      I was talking with my psychiatrist. She looked kind of weird, like her eyes were close together and really tiny, but wide open, like she was shocked. Her hair was also very pale, almost dirty blonde.

      I was telling my psychiatrist about some experience I'd had, which had seemed to me to be bilocation. I may have remembered something about one version of myself standing near a missile that lay on the ground, while the other version of myself was somewhere else.

      My psychiatrist told me that she remembered the events surrounding the date on which I'd had this experience. She said that we had been making good progress in our sessions. She said that on that particular day, she'd touched on something sensitive in my life.

      So, my psychiatrist said, it was pretty natural that I'd have some kind of weird experience. It was a reaction, a resistance, against the sensitived issue that my psychiatrist had brought up. I'd probably also felt like my experience was bilocation for a reason -- something to do with the sensitive issue.
    2. leaving mall; psychiatrists at mall/airport; kissing kissing girls

      by , 01-02-2012 at 02:56 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      My female friend H and I were in a mall at night. We were in one of the department stores. I think we wanted to head out of the mall.

      We knew the exit we were at didn't lead to the section of the parking lot where our car was. But we didn't know what exit of the mall would lead us to our car.

      But for some reason we were heading for the exit at the end of this department store, anyway. We walked out a double set of sliding glass doors.

      As we passed between the two doors, a policeman, not a security guard, passed in front of us. He was a couple inches taller than I, kind of muscly, black, with lightish skin, and very short hair. He seemed to be trying to bully us or hustle us a little as he passed us.

      The cop passed through the second set of doors, and we followed. After the cop got a couple meters away from the exit he turned around and did something like a sly, little look at us -- at me in particular, like he thought I was some sort of troublemaker.

      I thought, Oh, god, I'm getting singled out all over again. The cop walked away. But I felt like I was going to get targeted for more harrassment.

      I knew H and I had walked out the wrong exit of the mall. I knew the easiest thing to do would be to go back into the mall, straight through the mall, and to the correct exit.

      But I felt like if the cop already had me singled out as a troublemaker, he'd probably either head back into the mall and harrass me or contact his cop friends and have them harrass me, if he saw me head back into the mall. So I figured the smartest thing to do would just be to walk all the way around the outside of the mall until H and I found our car.

      Dream #2

      I was sitting at a table in a food court area that kind of looked like the dining section at the student union of my old university. But this food court was either part of a mall or an airport -- or both.

      There was one big area of seats, then a wide walkway, then another big area of seats. Both seating areas and the walkway were busy with people, all rushing all over the place.

      I sat at a table full of people, mostly adults in their forties or fifties. But, off to my left, I saw somebody, maybe one of my old psychiatrists, sitting at another table.

      I didn't want her to get up and hurry away before I got to talk to her. So I ran to her table. But when I got to the table, she was gone. But I felt like she was probably going to return. It was now like we were scheduled to meet. So I figured I'd sit here and wait for her -- so this time I wouldn't miss her.

      But I realized I'd left my backpack (a huge, tall backpack!) at the previous table. So I got up and ran over to pick that up.

      For some reason, I was now kind of wandering around in the seating area. I seemed to be upset with my most recent psychiatrist. I had feelings about her that were the same as IWL -- I felt like she neglected my deeper psychological issues all the time, always looking for a quick fix and easy way out -- to save herself the trouble of work.

      For some reason, I felt like I finally needed to just complain to somebody about her. For a moment I may have complained to the psychiatrist I'd seen sitting at the table -- somehow. But that psychiatrist was now gone.

      But now I saw my most recent psychiatrist's "boss," sitting in an armchair in a section of hallway after the seating area across the walkway from me. I went up to this woman and either sat in an armchair right next to hers, or knelt beside the woman's armchair.

      The woman looked like Susan Seaforth, who played Julie Horton on Days of Our Lives, from around the time period of the late 1970s.

      I either told the woman that I wanted to complain about my psychiatrist, or I just began complaining to her about my psychiatrist.

      The woman listened to me for a moment. She then said that she understood what I was talking about. But she had to go take care of some business. When she got finished, she'd come back to me. I could tell her the rest of my story. And she could figure out what to do in response.

      But I think this woman's "business" was to catch a flight. I'm pretty sure she even had luggage with her. It didn't register with me then -- but -- how long was I supposed to wait?

      Dream #3

      It was daytime. I was out on a wide, shallow, stone staircase with a lot of people. We all stood up near the top, near a whole wall of glass doors that looked in on a comparatively dark lobby. It was like we were all assembled out here for a photo.

      I was playing some kind of important part in whatever proceedings we were all a part of. But there were these two really hot, young women right next to me. One of them, even though she was a really hot, young woman, may have been one of my friends' mothers.

      The two hot girls began kissing each other. First they were just giving each other mild, quick, closed-mouth kisses. But then, either because I wasn't reacting much or because I actually was paying attention to them, they began to give each other slower kisses.

      I was pretty aroused by this. The two girls kind of fed on my arousal and began giving each other open-mouthed kisses. They even kind of sunk down a bit, almost kneeling on the ground with each other. They may have been wearing wedding dresses, as if they were going to marry each other.

      Now the young women opened their mouths slightly and began slowly sliding their tongues back and forth into each others' mouths. This was too much for me to handle.

      The girls stood back up and were almost right in my face. So, even though I didn't want to start kissing my friend's mom, I just crept my face a bit closer. I began working my tongue in there a bit.

      I was trying to get my tongue in there in the least intrusive way that I could. I was really turned on by the girls' lesbian kissing. I didn't want it to turn into straight kissing. I just wanted to get a little bit of the lesbian erotic energy on my own tongue.
    3. psychiatrist and asian bands; boy in green

      by , 12-07-2011 at 02:42 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I walked into "my psychiatrist's office," which was actually a house in a suburban neighborhood. I may have walked in through a side door.

      I was in something like a side room or a spare room, not a bedroom, but more like a room with random stuff in it. The room was brown, with cheap plywood-panelling on the walls and a scruffy brown and tan carpet.

      At first I thought I was all alone in the house. I suddenly became aware that I didn't actually have an appointment with my psychiatrist today. I thought that maybe I'd come into her house while she and everybody else in her family was gone.

      But now I heard my psychiatrist talking with a woman. I imagined a woman in maybe her late fifties or early sixties. My psychiatrist was saying goodbye to her.

      I now realized that I hadn't had an appointment with my psychiatrist: I'd cancelled it a while back. Now I was just showing up. My psychiatrist would think I was some kind of crazy stalker.

      But I was here, and I'd only look worse if my psychiatrist saw me while I was attempting to leave. So I went into the office-room of the house.

      The room was in quite a bit of disarray. I might not even have seen my psychiatrist at first. There was a couch running diagonally through the middle of the room, as if it had been pushed away from the wall. There were shelves in various states of dissaray, and piles of stuff on the floor and in an open closet.

      Now I saw my psychiatrist. She was pulling some stuff off a set of shelves. I knew that my psychiatrist had decided that since I'd cancelled my appointment for this day, she'd work on cleaning out her office during this period. She was kind of annoyed to see me here, now that she'd set herself to another task. I was afraid she'd even charge me for a session.

      But my psychiatrist asked my opinion. She had to think of a Christmas present for some young male in her family. The man was maybe a nephew of hers who was in his mid-twenties.

      My psychiatrist had been cleaning out her record collection. To my left there was a wall-width stereo center with shelves filled with records. But my psychiatrist walked to the closet, off to my right. There were even more records in there.

      My psychiatrist pointed to a few records. They were in huge plastic security-cases, like compact discs might be in in a store, before you buy them. The record sleeves had yellow backs, like the Deutsche Grammophone CDs of classical music (? - I think). My psychiatrist asked me if I thought her nephew might like those records.

      I walked over to the records. My psychiatrist told me that if I liked them I could have them. She said they were by some Asian group (possibly a Vietnamese group). She may have told me how she'd gotten them, and that she wasn't sure whether the music was any good. I may have told her that the group was really good.

      I was now watching a music video by the Malaysian pop group A.P.I. I thought I was familiar with the video and the song.

      The video was of three members of the band before a white background. But something like a red curtain would often fall down through the middle of the scene. Sometimes it would fill up the whole scene. The curtain had a fabricky look, and it acted like fabric. But it was transparent, like a piece of thin plastic.

      At one point, one of the band members, fully engulfed in the orange-red light of the curtain, slid into a close-up shot, either as if he were on some moving platform, or as if the camera, on a dolly, slid toward him. Then he gave a smile to the screen and turned away. The view slid back into a far shot of him.

      Dream #2

      I was sitting out on the steps of some building, possibly a school. I was with a few other people, "friends" who I don't recognize now. The steps were shallow, maybe only four or five steps up to the top. They were made of an aging, cheap concrete.

      I sat on one of the lower steps. An older girl or younger woman sat on a short, curb-like edge to my right. Some more people sat up near the top of the steps. Those people may mostly have been young women or older girls.

      Now a little boy ran out the doors at the top of the steps. He saw me and ran to sit by me.

      The boy was maybe nine or ten years old. He was really skinny. He had very fair skin, freckles, and pale green or blue eyes. He had hair in a bowl-like, 1970s-style cut, about down to his shoulders. He wore a big, green sweater and dark, slightly loose blue jeans.

      The boy seemed to like me a lot. He even seemed to be attracted to me. I may have been attracted to him as well. The boy may have tried to cuddle with me. But I may have been reluctant about letting him cuddle with me. I didn't want to get too aroused by the feeling of his body.
    4. mirror, people at door, outside with psychiatrist

      by , 08-20-2011 at 02:16 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in "my apartment," in my bathroom, looking at my face in the mirror. The bathroom was dark, with light coming in only from another room. I was disappointed with my appearance. I felt like I looked really ugly.

      There was suddenly a knock on my front door. I didn't know anybody who'd be knocking on my door at this time, so I was afraid to open the door. I went to look through the peephole to see who was there -- I was even afraid to do that.

      The person at the door was a tall, muscular black man wearing a black tank top, khaki shorts, and a baseball cap tilted off to the side of his head. He was bouncing around a lot. He looked annoyed or angry. I didn't open the door or acknowledge the man. I just walked away from the door and back to the bathroom.

      There was another knock at the door. This time I stood frozen in the doorway of my bathroom, afraid to even go to the door. I looked from the bathroom to the door.

      My apartment was really big. It was like the bathroom was at the front of a short hallway. Between the hallway and the front door was a living room. But the living room was more like two huge rooms. Both the rooms were plainly visible, but dark. In the center was a kind of columned space that was lit with incandescent light. There was nice, kind of old-style furniture everywhere.

      I somehow saw through the door, which now had a window of greenish and pinkish stained glass in a diamond-grid pattern on it. At the door were two old, white men, kind of overweight, with white hair. It was now like part of the stained glass on my door had been broken. The men could see into my house. But I didn't know if they could see me.

      There was a really nice, big, comfortable armchair near the hallway. A very pretty, blonde, little girl in a really nice, fancy dress, sat in the chair. She made some kind of remark about the people at the door. The remark was made with a cheerful tone, but it was kind of dark. It made me feel like the two white men at my door were probably here only to cause trouble for me, but that I should probably open the door to them anyway.

      I was about to go open the door for the men. But they now saw me through the smashed-out pieces in the stained glass on my door. The men said something about how they had only been here to help me. They were probably going to install some kind of device in my house. But if I didn't want to open the door for them, they weren't going to waste their time.

      The two men left my door. I ran after them, hoping to get them so they could do whatever good thing they were going to do for me. I must have gotten down to the ground floor of my apartment building. In an area that may have been a little small and cramped, possibly busy with some kind of housework, I met a woman, another resident.

      The woman said, "Oh, those guys are all holding a big meeting for all of us downstairs later on. They gave everybody that speech. They figured it was a good way to make everybody feel guilty. So that way everybody would want the thing the men want to put in the house. So now, to find out what it is, we all have to go to this meeting."

      I was now outside, in a neighborhood that looked a lot like my neighborhood in waking life. It was late afternoon or early morning. The sky was deep, vivid blue, but there were also bright, red-pink clouds in the sky. I remarked to myself that I'd never seen clouds with such a strong, red tint.

      Somehow my psychiatrist met me a couple of blocks down from my apartment. I was walking back to my apartment. So my psychiatrist walked with me. We passed a small family that was taking up the entire sidewalk. We had to maneuver past them. I squeezed along a chain-link fence along the sidewalk.

      One of the kids of the family may have been on a tricycle. Another of the kids was a little, Latina girl with dark skin and long, black hair. She was maybe ten or eleven years old. She wore a bikini with a black and white design of tighly interlocking patterns, like Native American pottery paintings. She also may have had red scrunchees holding her hair back in either a ponytail or two pigtails.

      I had been very interested in the Native American design on the girl's bikini. I had never seen that before. But the girl had been kind of crouched down near the bicycle. And when she stood up, something about the sight of her rear end as it went from a crouching to a standing position really turned me on. So I looked away, ashamed of being turned on by a little girl, especially in front of my psychiatrist.

      We crossed the street. I was looking down to the sidewalk and up to the strikingly red-pink clouds as my psychiatrist spoke with me. My psychiatrist told me that she had some meeting set up with me and another psychiatrist, possibly a man. She told me that soon I'd be able to go to "special sessions" with this second psychiatrist.

      My psychiatrist told me that she'd tell me more once we got inside. Apparently my apartment complex actually held her counseling office instead of my apartment.

      I asked my psychiatrist if I would still be doing regular sessions with her, since the sessions with the guy would only be "special sessions." I mentioned some previous psychiatrist I'd had before, without being able to remember her name, as if I had seen her for "special sessions" while still seeing my psychiatrist for "regular sessions." But my psychiatrist didn't answer me.

      My dream now took on a very scratchy, rushing feeling, like I'd usually have when I was going into or coming out of a lucid dream. I think this may have been partly because I had gotten really frustrated trying to remember the name of my previous psychiatrist.
    5. sounding crazy

      by , 07-25-2011 at 11:36 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a psychiatrist's office, which actually looked more like a small store mixed with an artist's studio or an unfinished room. The room was narrow, kind of long, with white walls made bright by the sunlight coming in through the front window wall.

      I stood before something like a long work table made out of wood, which was either white or brown. The table was on the left side of the room. My psychiatrist stood to my right.

      I was telling my psychiatrist a weird set of experiences I'd been having lately. Mostly it was people saying very weird things right out to me. But apparently, on this day, they'd gotten really bad.

      I told my psychiatrist how I had gone into one place, possibly a doctor's office, and that a nurse (dressed like a 1950s style, stereotypical nurse), while she was stacking boxes one on top of the other, said she was -----ing the boxes (don't remember the word, but it implied she was actually laying the boxes side by side).

      I told my psychiatrist, "Then I went to a cafe. A woman there was laying boxes side by side. But she told me --" I suddenly had the urge to stop speaking, as I felt my talking anymore about this would make my psychiatrist think I was crazy. But I couldn't stop now. So I said, "She told me she was stacking them."

      I had an image in my head of something like a floor plan being drawn in red lines on a brownish-yellow piece of paper. I saw perhaps four squares being drawn in some kind of nook-like room. The four squares were boxes, laid side by side. I then saw a woman like a worker at Starbucks, laying boxes like soda syrup boxes side by side in a nook-like area.

      There was now a third person in the room with me and my psychiatrist. The person was hard to see. But it was probably a woman, kind of like a wild woman. She was kind of tall, with really messy, black hair. She looked really strong, and she may have been naked. But she was helping my psychiatrist in some kind of professional function, like being her nurse.

      The woman stood between us, and while I never saw the woman, it made my psychiatrist much harder to see. My psychiatrist may have changed as well. She may have been a kind of young, blonde woman.

      My psychiatrist may have given me some kind of shot. She also prescribed some kind of medicine to me, maybe two different kinds of pills. I had a terrible, sinking feeling. I had told my psychiatrist my real life experiences. But she now thought, as I'd figured she would, that I was crazy. I myself wondered whether I was crazy.

      My psychiatrist said I needed to be careful because of the state of mind I was in. She said, "If you keep going like this, you'll start thinking you can hear telegrams (or telegraphs?) inside buildings, or that the direction of your blood is always flowing toward the people who have aggressive feelings toward you."
    6. gardening test; toilet troubles; singing j-pop to psychiatrist

      by , 05-06-2011 at 11:43 AM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was out with a group of people, possibly at the edge of a building like a school building. There were shrubs, possibly euonymous, just behind a short fence. I, and maybe some of the other people, may have been trimming these shrubs. But this was also like some test, like some kind of paper test that was being taken indoors.

      Something happened with time. As I was walking past the shrubs, which were like a classroom, I realized I had forgotten about a class, and that I had been counted as absent. I thought, Well, now it'll just snowball down from here, and I'll start missing all kinds of classes.

      I walked past a young woman, maybe college age or a little older, who was the leader of this group of people out trimming the shrubs. We may have spoken for a moment. I then saw a few other women as I walked along. Two of the women were girlfriends. They both wore jeans and dark blue hoodies. One of the girls looked boyish and had short hair and pale skin.

      At some point I had decided that I was going to quit this work, which was now something like a volunteer position. I was in something like a dorm room. All the curtains were pulled down. I was either getting into or out of a pair of khaki work slacks for the office. I worried that the woman in charge of the project would be disappointed in me for quitting.

      Dream #2

      I was in a dorm room that was full of stuff like manga books and anime DVDs. There was a TV somewhere, and I was trying to watch some kind of hentai anime. But there was something wrong somewhere in my dorm room. I couldn't quite pinpoint it, but it sounded like a problem with the water. It was really distracting.

      I was about to walk out of the dorm room. But as I opened the door to the hallway, I saw two young men, both kind of tall and fat, one Asian. I tried to close my door really quickly, because I didn't want the boys to see me or know that I had been trying to watch a porn anime. But one of the boys saw me and greeted me cheerfully.

      Somehow the boys came to understand my problem. Apparently I had come outside to find out where the water problem was coming from. The Asian boy, who I actually didn't know, knew exactly what to do. We went to the dorm next door from me, which was unoccupied. There was a toilet in the dorm. The Asian boy jiggled the handle and the water noise stopped.

      As I was walking out of the empty dorm room, leaving the boys in the room, I thanked the Asian boy. He explained something to me, as if he were experienced with noise or plumbing.

      Dream #3

      I had come back to "my psychatrist's office," which was a lot bigger and messier than IWL. I had apparently not been able to fill out some kind of form before, because I couldn't remember the words to a Japanese pop song.

      When I'd first come back to the office, it had been empty. But then my psychiatrist was there. I was really proud of myself as I told her I remembered the words again. I tried to fill out the form, while standing before a table that was full of clutter. But some other woman kept edging under me, trying to get to some waste basket under the desk so she could clean it out.

      I eventually let the woman through and apologized. She said something nice. The room now was more like a psychiatrist's office. It had a couch and a chair, and it felt very calm. But it was still really big.

      I sat down with my brother and sister on the couch. My psychiatrist asked, "So you can remember the words to the song now?"

      I said yes and tried to start singing. But I was already forgetting the words. I was now on the opposite side of the room from the couch, which seemed so far away. My brother and sister were gettin bored with hearing me try to sing. They got up and left.

      I was eventually sitting either very close to or on the arm of my psychiatrist's chair. I was still trying to sing the song, only haltingly getting through bits of lyrics. Something about iit may have had the "aeru no ii na" lyrics from L'arc en Ciel's "My Heart Draws a Dream."