• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. sherlock lewis; doll face and girl face; bad guy's teddy bear

      by , 12-19-2011 at 03:01 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was with two friends, a man and a woman. We were walking into something like a high school gymnasium which had been done up for a flea-market-type sale.

      Just inside the heavy metal doors was an aisle of tables, running from the left to the right, and extending across the width of the gymnasium. The tables were all divided into booths, and were filled with people selling things.

      It seemed like my friends and I had gotten to the flea-market sale pretty early. There weren't many other customers around. Some of the vendors may still have been arranging their booths.

      My male friend split off from my female friend and I. My female friend was a black woman, short, a bit overweight. She had short hair arranged in little spikes or braid-like twists.

      We walked toward the back, right corner of the aisle. My friend stopped and looked at some shirts. They were long-sleeved shirts, warm for the winter, in kind of flat green and cream-white. I may have fondled a square, paper tag that may have said something about how the shirts were made of hemp-cloth.

      My friend now stopped at a booth with hats on it. She picked up a blue denim hat with a short, round brim. She put it on and asked me how she looked. I thought she looked pretty cool.

      I thought I'd fool around and try on a hat as well. But my friend chose a hat for me. She said I'd look good in a cowboy hat. The hat she gave me was huge, almost like a caricature of a cowboy hat. But both sides of the brim were also pinned to the crown of the hat -- so the hat kind of looked like a hat-taco.

      I put it on anyway and looked at myself in a mirror on the back wall of the booth. I thought I looked like a complete goofball.

      I think at this part I started to hear voices in my head. They sounded like the voice of Sherlock Holmes. I may have been reasoning something out, as if I were Sherlock Holmes.

      Suddenly I was in a room. I was one of three children. But I wasn't in the body of whichever child I was.

      The children were actually more like young adults. They were probably in their late teens and early twenties. There were two boys and one girl.

      One of the boys was Sherlock Holmes. The girl was a really pretty, fair-skinned girl with kind of slim eyes and long, pale-brown hair. The kids all had the style and attitude of kids from the late 1970s.

      The kids were all up in one of their bedrooms, which was a kind of small room up on a second or third floor of a mansion. They'd each alternately pace lazily around the room or lay down on the bed, roll around on it, etc.

      The kids were all speaking with each other. Sherlock Holmes still seemed to be reasoning something out with himself. The girl was at least teasing Sherlock Holmes, if not the other boy. All three kids were lazy -- and they knew it. But the girl took a little bit more pleasure in teasing the boys for being lazy.

      The girl had to leave. Then the two boys were together. But then one of the boys had to leave. The other boy was by himself.

      During this time the boy had transformed from Sherlock Holmes into Lewis Carroll. As Sherlock Holmes, the boy had been just a regular boy, or young man, from the 1970s. As Lewis Carroll, something about him changed. He actually took on more of a late nineteenth century appearance.

      But the boy was still lazy. He may have known that the girl had gone off and found a job. And the other boy may have at least gone looking for a job as well. But Sherlock/Lewis was still just sitting up in his room.

      Sherlock/Lewis was thinking of what kind of excuse he'd give his parents (with whom he was still living) for not yet having found a job.

      He thought he'd make up something about being a writer and needing his time to write. In my mind's eye I saw a huge, yellow pencil laying across the bed with the boy. I thought the writer excuse kind of made sense. After all, if this was Lewis Carroll, he was really a great writer.

      But then Sherlock/Lewis, looking out the window, started thinking about what his dad would say about him. I could hear his dad's voice in his head. Eventually the dad's speech took over the narrative.

      The dad, who was like Bill Loud in the show An American Family, was narrating a letter that he'd written to his wife. His wife was out in some foreign country, maybe France, taking care of some business.

      The dad wrote his wife that he'd gone to visit the daughter at either the location of her new job or at her college campus. Either way, the daughter was in a new town. But this was a town where the dad and mom had met and fallen in love. So the dad was happy to go back there.

      There was a view of some part of a campus, I think, in this town. There were a lot of trees. But it was winter, and the trees were all leafless. The branches struck me as being very black.

      The father wrote/narrated a very sentimental statement that began with him sighing, "Ah!, the memories..."

      Now there was a strange view of painty-looking or animated-looking flowers, huge, five-petalled, yellow flowers, blossoming on the barren branches. The father made some kind of statement about the first experience of love between him and his wife, and how it was as delicate as trembling petals.

      Dream #2

      I was watching a documentary. There was a black and white photograph of two girls from a wealthy Italian family. The girls were sitting on the left rim of the pool for a big fountain, which was out on a gravel driveway leading up to the family's huge mansion.

      The photo was really blotchy. It was apparently taken in the 1940s, though the girls seemed to me to look more like they were from the 1970s, or even the present.

      The girls both had really long hair, which was very straight and plain. And the girls wore very short denim shorts, or denim coveralls with very short leggings. Both girls had a skinny look about them, though neither really was skinny. They both looked a little dull and overly spoiled.

      The view now closed in on the girl sitting higher up on the rim. This girl was the older sister. A narrator now explained that the older sister had a disease, which had made her life very tragic.

      As the narrator continued, the view now became active and in color. The view had shifted away from the fountain and onto the gravel driveway. It was the present. But things at this estate were pretty much the same as they had been in the 1940s.

      There were a few old men standing out by some junk in the driveway. It looked like it may have been a ticket booth and some other equipment related to an old-time carnival.

      The narrator's speech had continued. The narrator had explained that the girl had never been particularly pretty. But as she reached her seventeenth year, she'd begun to blossom into a more beautiful girl.

      But at this time, the girl was suddenly struck by a disease which was like a cancer, eating away at her face. The disease was combatted once, and the girl was okay. But then the disease came back again and again, until a few years later, the girl's face was completely ravaged.

      One of the men in the gravel driveway now walked over to the right side of the road. There was a big structure there. It was made of concrete, and it was as tall as the man. It was shaped like the plastic head of a baby doll. And I supposed that the face of this giant, concrete baby doll was turned away from me, so that I only saw the back of the head.

      The back of the head, though, had a huge chunk smashed right out of its center. The chunk revealed , through a thick, ragged window of concrete-white, pebbly casing, the hollowness of the doll's head.

      I assmumed that there was probably a similar smashing in on the front side of this gigantic baby doll's head. And I assumed that this head was a metaphor for the 1940s girl's head. I realized that this was what the disease had done to the woman.

      Dream #3

      Some anime. The main bad guy was a beautiful-man kind of figure: skinny, elegant, with long, purple hair. He was a very sinister kind of character.

      But it turned out that the reason the bad guy had been causing all the trouble was because somebody had taken his favorite teddy bear away from him. He assumed the good guys had done it. So he was causing all kinds of trouble for them.

      I thought this was a really disappointing reason for a bad guy to be bad. It cheapened the whole story. I couldn't even figure out why good guys would fight this bad guy at all.
    2. animal cabin; killing roach; bleeding hands; pointy top and fat base

      by , 04-22-2011 at 02:16 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I was in a cabin in the woods with my old friend, M. It may have been night at first. We were looking out a wall-sized window at the forest landscape. It was like the window was about 2 or 3 meters above ground-level. There was some other shack-like structure standing just beyond the house.

      The scene became light, as if the time quickly went from night to early morning. As it did, M and I spoke about the shack. Apparently there were trees growing out of the top of the shack. They were kind of thin and they didn't have much of a canopy.

      M and I said that before the event, something like a flood or an earthquake, we hadn't been aware of the trees. But they had been there all along. But after the flood, we were definitely aware of the trees growing out of the shack. In my mind's eye I saw the waters of the flood quickly subsiding down the sides of the shack.

      I now saw someting like a beaver gnawing away at one of the tree trunks. The beaver was enormous -- maybe 2 meters long. It had big, black eyes, like a teddy bear. I looked away from the window, as if I had to go do something else, something like packing up to leave the cabin.

      I wondered about the beaver. The beaver had been so huge and the tree trunk so thin that it seemed to me the beaver should have been able to have chewed all the way through the tree before I had looked away. But it hadn't been able to do so. I thought that maybe the tree was bigger than I'd thought it was.

      I now looked to the opposite side of the cabin. There was another wall-sized window, this one level with the ground. The light was much brighter. It appeared to be a grey day.

      Just outside the window there was a car which was parked so its right side faced the window. Between the car and the window there lay a huge, brown, furry animal. It was like the beaver on top of the cabin, but it was also more like a bear.

      M had become my mother. This was my mother's cabin. I turned to my mom, who was still looking out the other window. I asked her something about these weird animals. She replied in some matter of fact way. She then made some comment about huge wolves that were attacking people.

      I looked back to the window with the car. I now noticed that just inside the cabin, right by the window, there was another big, brown, beaver-like animal curled up on the floor. It was like some kind of pet, like a cat.

      Behind the car there was another weird animal. This one was like a huge coyote or a bobcat. But it was all black. Its eyes were huge and black, again, like teddy-bear eyes. Its fur was kind of long and disshevelled, but soft looking, almost like pulled-out cotton candy.

      I wondered if this animal was dangerous, like the wolves my mom had been talking about. But it occurred to me that this black animal was actually a cat-like animal. A wolf would be more of a dog-like animal.

      I had to go outside to put my stuff into the car so I could leave. But I was kind of afraid to. I was afraid of some of the wolves showing up and attacking me. It then occurred to me that as long as the black animal was around, no wolves would attack.

      Apparently my brother and sister were in the car. They had been waiting for me to come to the car so we could leave. I was now walking out of some bedroom with some stuff. I may have been holding something (like wadded up tissue?) to my chest. The room seemed to have a greenish tint to it, as if from light coming in through dim curtains and reflecting against light-green walls.

      As I was heading to the front door of the cabin, my mom started complaining to me about how I had taken so long to get ready that I had missed the ideal opportunity for getting back home. The drive home would be twelve hours long. If we had left earlier, we would have been able to miss the snowstorm that was coming. But now we would be driving right into the snowstorm.

      I was now in some spacious, one-story house, all by myself. For a moment I was in the living room. The living room was huge. The back wall had a huge window running along it, letting in a lot of grey light.

      I was then in a small bedroom. It was night. The light was on in the bedroom. The room was really cluttered. I looked at the clock on the dresser. It said something like 11:45. I looked out the slats of the window blinds. I saw the street below. It was like I was in a house. I may have seen a car passing.

      I walked away from the bedroom, possibly toward a doorway. I thought to myself that it was really good how well we had timed our trip back home. We were already home and the snowstorm was only now getting ready to start.

      Dream #2

      I was in some bedroom that was a lot like mine. But the floor was barren and possibly something like concrete. The floor was really grimy and dusty, with a little bit of trash like paper here and there.

      I saw a big roach run across the floor. I was a little annoyed, and I decided to kill the roach. But for some reason I also decided to sweep and clean the floor while I was hunting down the roach.

      At some point there were also two men in the room. They were both white, possibly British, and kind of old. They may have been wearing black suits and bowler hats.

      In the middle of cleaning the floors, I suddenly thought this would be the perfect opportunity to kill the roach. I grabbed something with a flat bottom, possibly a shoe, but possibly a flat object like a book. I slammed down on the roach.

      I caught the roach so that its head was just coming out from under the book. I didn't think I would be able to kill it this way. But I kept smashing down harder and harder. Eventually a bunch of fluid began pouring out from under the book. The fluid was clear and kind of brown, like some kind of liquor. After a while I was satisfied that the roach was dead.

      I turned around and stood up. The other men were just finishing cleaning up the place. Either they or I said something like, "You see, if you only keep this place clean, you'll avoid having to deal with roaches."

      The men were now standing over at a table by the wall. There was a third man, kind of an average, middle-aged guy, a little overweight, kind of pale white, but overall healthy looking.

      The man had two black cases with him. The cases were like computer cases, but they were small. They were made out of backpack-like fabric and were also very well-padded. The old men first lay the cases on the table. They then took the cases off the table and began to sit them on the floor. At this point in time the cases may have been unzipped and empty.

      I wondered if it was a good idea to lay the cases on the floor. After all, the floor had been so dirty that it had attracted the roaches. If the cases were important, wouldn't it be kind of bad to get them dirty by putting them on the floor?

      Dream #3

      I looked at my hands. Apparently they had gotten so dry that they were cracking and bleeding. But now they were cracking a lot. It was like whole slashes were running down the backs of my hands. I thought I would never be able to heal my hands, they were so cracked and bleeding.

      Dream #4

      There was some man who was dignified and at the same time kind of like the ringleader for a circus. He was right up in my face, talking to me about something about society. He was trying to make his argument by using the analogy of some kind of object with a pointy top and fat base.

      But for some reason, I got an image in my head of something which was the opposite of what the man had been talking about. I may have seen a spinning top. This had a pointy bottom and fat top. But I may also have seen a clear, plastic cup for soda. It didn't have a pointy top or base. I may hav seen some other kind of clear, plastic toy.

      At some point either I or the man started to question the validity of the argument being made, since none of the images being conjured up had the pointy top and fat base.

      (Side notes: In Dream #1, the trees growing out of the shack most likely come from a photographic image from the work of Jungjin Lee. I saw her work a few weeks back at the Aperture Foundation.

      The weird animals at least partly come from a fetish video I was watching on YouTube. It involved an adult woman in a diaper, playing with a huge teddy bear. But I also think the image comes from the werewolves in the Twilight movies.

      Also, I've recently read a couple of books which have involved lycanthropy lately. One is Bruno Bettelheim's The Uses of Enchantment. The other is Hereward Carrington's 1921 book Problems of Psychical Research.

      Carrington's book is available on the free book website gutenberg.org. I think it is also available for free through Kindle.

      Here is the link to the Gutenberg Project version of the book. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/23660...-h/23660-h.htm

      While I'm on the topic of the Gutenberg Project, I might as well mention a small essay I read by Henri Bergson, simply titled Dreams. I don't agree with the entire theory. But I find Bergson's overall insights to be a lot of fun. Anyway, I thought of you guys when I read it.

      Here is the link. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/20842...-h/20842-h.htm
      )