• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    melanieb

    1. The Piggyback Ride - 05192012

      by , 05-20-2012 at 07:31 AM
      So, in this dream I had a couple moments of lucidity and I even had thoughts of a fellow DV member, though sadly I never got to find them or interact with them. I hope they show up in a dream again. It would seriously help me in the Competition Thread.

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      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I find myself downtown on the south side of the river, and Iímheaded to the U.T. Law Center, represented in my dream by an oversized versionof the Palmer Events Center, round and taller than any of the other structuresalong the river shore.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Since I seem to lack transportation I hitch a ride withthree young women who appear to have recently been swimming at Barton Springs.All are wearing bikini tops and loose skirts, tan skin showing their dedicationto the sun. I seem to know these women pretty well though I canít recall everspeaking any of their names out loud. Iím glad they picked me up. The day iswarm and the walk would have been long.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Weíre driving in a large convertible, something left overfrom the 70ís I suspect. Itís wide with a heavy body, painted an off-whitecolor though I think itís just the age of the exterior that makes it look thisway. As we turn into the parking lot for the Law Center the car bounces usaround and into each other, but no one complains. [/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The parking lot is bumpy and unpaved but as we progressthrough it the ride becomes smoother. The ground, previously dry and uniform,is now a rocky surface covered with water varying in depth from a couple inchesto just over a foot. The water is clear despite being in a well-traveledparking lot, and I connect this to the thoughts about the women swimming. Theview of this terrain brings me to lucidity, knowing that I should be in aparking lot formerly occupied by a Mexican restaurant and a Hooters. The wateris way too blue in spots to even exist in its present form. I rarely see thisshade of blue and the word Ďazureí comes into my mind.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3] Though I had beensitting in the back seat of the car I suddenly find myself on the back of theyoung woman who had been driving, and the other women disappear. The car isalso gone, and somehow we are gliding over the terrain. I seem to bepiggybacked onto the young woman, and as she looks over her left shoulder at meI lay my head against her back, my face against her skin between her shoulderblades. She is soft, warm, and it feels nice to be close to her. The vividnessof being lucid allows me to examine her skin in detail, though I remainrespectful and resist the urge to nuzzle as she is quickly carrying me to mydestination. I do give her the briefest of kisses, and I think about how I missbeing held.[/SIZE][/FONT]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We seem to have no trouble avoiding the bumps and notstepping majorly into the water, and in no time I find myself entering themassive complex, the women all left to go their own way. I walk in and beginworking my way to the third floor. The levels are separated by a curving slopedpassageway that surrounds the exterior of the building, windows all along theoutside, as if Iím walking up the threads of a massive screw. The third floorof this building is as high as the twelfth floor of any ordinary structure.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]At the end of the curve on the third floor I find myselfjust outside the Civil Liberties Center, a place where I know I can get helpfor my friend who has been erroneously imprisoned. With the outside windows tomy right I am facing the entrance to my destination. To my left is a corridor,and beside that is a bathroom. The halls are separated by a gray door, thecovering of a large electrical panel. I wonder briefly about the wisdom ofplacing electrical access in the main hallway but I do not stick around toponder the question. My friend is in need.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Entering the Civil Liberties Center I am almost disappointedby how understated the room is. The room is less than 20 feet wide and perhapsnot more than 15 feet deep. A large counter spans the space between walls, andbehind it is a tall and rather thin hippie, busy at work stacking hundreds ofpublications into piles, all of which have some kind of orange lettering on thecover. His skin is sickly white, as though he hasnít seen sun in years. He iswearing a loose shirt and some very tight blue-jean shorts that extend to justabove his knees, allowing his pasty legs to be visible. I think he may bewearing a hat but it wasnít important enough to remember. He grins as he works,a scary look for his appearance, and it seems as if he has forgotten what asmile is supposed to represent. Iím a little creeped out by him. [/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A curved wall is to my right, and outside the window I cansee a long above-ground covered walkway leading into the nearby building, somesort of processing complex that I may need to visit next. Iím not entirely surewhat it is though I suspect itís where Sivason is being held. I canít see howit connects to the building I am in but it looks like it could be on the floorbelow me. I donít recall passing any access point.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Iím standing against the curved wall, my back pressedagainst it as I try to keep out of the way. To my right is another personstanding just as I am, dressed mostly in black and much younger than me. Theyhave a subversive look to them, as though they are here to cause trouble. Ilook past him and my gaze is upon the piles of publications, my efforts turnedto deciphering the lettering on the cover. I have to strain to get a glimpse Ican focus on, and as the lettering resolves itself I see it has the logo of theUniversity of Texas on the cover. Instantly I am uninterested, knowing thatnothing they publish could help me in my situation. Before the logo becameclear I had considered picking up a copy to see what it was, but I no longercare.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As my gaze turns back towards the room I become aware of thesecurity guard standing perhaps three feet in front of me. Heís a black man ina bright blue uniform and he is staring at me intently. His eyes areunsettling, and I feel slightly threatened.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The young man standing next to me mutters the word ďprotestĒ,and Iím not sure if he is at the Center to protest or he protests the behaviorof the security guard. Either way the word provokes a reaction from the man infront of me.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]ďYou know what we do to people who protest around here?Ē Hespeaks slowly and his voice has clear malice in it.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Not wanting to seem bothered, and feeling slightly annoyed,I reply, ďGive them a cookie?Ē[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Second-guessing myself and deciding I probably shouldnítupset the man, I decide to humor him and make an allowance for his overtly rudedemeanor.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]ďNo, what?Ē I try not to sound condescending.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]ďWe string them up by their feet and leave them.Ē His threat is unveiled, and though hiswording is rather vague Iím filled with the impression that I donít want to beleft anywhere by him.[/SIZE][/FONT]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The hippie behind the counter, who has been quiet up to now,suddenly chimes in.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]ďHeh, you better believe him!Ē His voice sounds old andcracks like he hasnít been drinking enough fluids. His creepy smile only addsto the effect, completing the appearance of someone who has lost his ability todeduce reality.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I roll my eyes in disgust for both of them and simply walkout, back to the hallway I was in previously. I think my next goal will be totry the other station that is slightly down the side corridor I passed on myway in. In the mean time I feel angry, and my compulsion to express that angerleads me to hang a large book from the edge of the electrical panel, danglingby a thick elastic cord. In my mind I know this will upset them and get evenwith them for my poor treatment, though I canít even imagine how it would causeanyone grief. [/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I never seem to make it to the other counter and Iím insteadovertaken by my need to use the bathroom. I walk into a room that is not partof the complex I had been in, white stucco walls giving me the impression ofbeing inside a house from my past. The room is large for a bathroom, spacious,and the main furnishing is a toilet set against a small outcropping of wall.Beyond the potty is a hallway leading into a closet pass-through and a bedroomwith two people in it.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The toilet has a thick, padded seat on it, and itís an oddsensation to experience below my butt. Finishing my business on the toilet Ireach for the handle to flush it and the loud sound of water swirling in thebowl fills the room. I look at the toilet as I realize the swirl is toointense, and some of the water is going too high. The seat and lid is slightlyaskew where itís attached and this allows water to splash on the floor and thewall. My irritation at the thought of having to take care of this is almostenough to make me cry.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Reaching for the toilet paper as the closest source ofabsorbency I begin sopping up the spills. Some of the liquid seems to be mixedwith pee that has stained the floor and the bottom of the wall next to thetoilet. As I reach maximum capacity for each lump of toilet paper I throw itinto the corner to soak up any water it can handle, knowing that I will stillhave to clean up that mess.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Behind me is a large bucket, similar to the 5-gallon stylefound at any local hardware store. Water has splashed on it also, and I reachover to pour it off, not expecting the deluge that pours off the lip of thebucket just below the lid. My feet are wet, the floor is wet, and now I haveeven more mess to clean up. At least the spill is just water, and I continuepouring, watching as the fluid splashes and dances in the light spilling intothe room from a high window. This is my last glimpse of lucidity.[/FONT][/SIZE]
      [SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
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