CanisLucidus

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #254: Adobe

I’m driving through a city, looking for some place to park. My dream family is here with me -- a dark-haired woman is my wife, my young daughter is in a car seat in the back, and there’s maybe a 2nd child (a son?) as well. We’re exhausted and homeless, living out of our car. I pull into a parking space next to a hill and sleep for a while. A cop car pulls up soon, though, and we have to move on.

Now we’re driving down a dusty freeway that’s under construction. Workers wander back and forth, while a thick cloud of tan dust obscures my vision. I can barely see 30 feet in front of me and I’m really scared that I’m going to hit someone. A worker walks right in front of the car and I swerve, barely missing him. I’m so afraid that I’m going to kill somebody and I panic myself into…

… a false awakening. I believe that I’m anotherdreamer and that I need to write this dream down before I forget it. My surroundings are alien to me, though, and I’m feeling super lazy, way too tired to get out of bed to journal. Something seems odd, though, and I flow into…

… another false awakening as myself! :canislucidus: I still feel really tired and lazy, but this time since I’ve “really woken up”, I decide to do the right thing and journal. I grab my DJ and walk into the bathroom, but as I’m holding the DJ I notice that the journal isn’t as thick as it usually is. (I keep a pen jammed in it.) I try the nose pinch, blow through, and now I’m lucid. I walk back into the bedroom and my vision dims until I’m in the void.

I rub my hands together, recalling the idea to try a little singing the next time I’m in the void. I sing a line about how “this is a lucid dreeeeeeam” and my voice comes out like half-badass/half-joke rock like Tenacious D. After some more singing and hand-rubbing, my vision comes back and I’m in my bedroom closet. I walk back out to the window and try some air guitar. It’s lame at first, but after a few tries, I hear some distant chords of electric guitar that actually sound pretty good.

I look out through the bedroom window onto a nighttime desert scene. As far as I can see there are rows of adobe buildings lit by neon signs. It looks like fun, so I phase through the window and hulk-jump off the side of the house toward the buildings. I do some mid-air guitar playing during this jump, too, and kind of flail my legs around like I’m trying to do some kind of rock star jump thing. I land between one set of restaurants and buildings on a dusty street, then hop into the air again.

While I’m up in the air, I decide that I want to try summoning Dreamer to hang out at one of these places to talk and pig out on a bunch of dream food. Out loud I say, “Okay, I know we’re supposed to meet here…” and then “Don’t be late!” I nag. When I land, though, the DC waiting there is a woman I don’t recognize, tall and pale with short brown hair, a pierced nose, and multiple piercings on each ear. She starts speaking to me in this really caustic, unpleasant American accent, berating me about my guitar playing.

“Your guitar playing was all bullshit,” says the woman. “That wasn’t even you!” She walks up to me, continuing to scold and complain about my guitar playing, telling me that my playing sucked, etc. I find this pretty annoying but for some reason I don’t think to just leave.

I don’t find this DC appealing, but I decide to turn things around by saying, “There’s no need to be so weird about it. If you wanted to have sex with me, you should have just asked.” As I say this, she takes on a different countenance, her hair darkening, her body growing a little shorter, a little more athletic-looking, and a softer, more attractive face, probably mixed-race. She approaches me and we kiss. We awkwardly lose our balance and do this not-at-all sexy fall onto the road. I make an attempt at escalating things to sexytime, but my vision has faded out. There are a few more seconds of void-kissing before the dream ends.

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #243: Silent Lucidity

I’m hanging out with Dreamer in a carpeted den and we’re talking excitedly about how a group of us (Dreamer, Jenkees, anotherdreamer, and I) made audio recordings that make us sound like complete idiots. (This is a true waking life memory! I recorded myself using a special audio trick that Dreamer found which made me sound like a complete idiot. The others made their recordings overnight and Dreamer skyped me about this during WBTB.)

Nearby there’s a statue of a tall, naked, muscular woman striding forward while extending her arm toward the sky. The woman is wearing a basket across her lower back and there are three towel-like bundles in the basket. Dreamer tells me that these bundles are the “idiot” voice recordings and that they’ll be ready soon. Dreamer and I lay on the carpeted floor maybe ten feet apart, facing each other and propped up on an elbow. We talk for a while about various things, mostly related to dreaming. I consider the idea that I’m dreaming right now and yes, this is a dream!

I tell Dreamer that all of this is a dream and she smiles, calmly agreeing. We talk a little about the voice recordings, and then I tell her that I can’t remember my goals right now, but I’m content to just chat for a while. She asks me why I’m not wearing my SleepPhones to bed and I tell her that those are fleece and it still doesn’t feel cold enough. I tell her, “And you only know about the SleepPhones because this is a dream!” (Meaning that she knows I'm not wearing them.) She laughs.

I remember that I had a goal of facing a fear. Dreamer and I had recently discussed how we’re both very fearful about awkward silences with friends. I allow the conversation to pause. Dreamer seems to understand what I’m doing and her eyes flick once nervously to the left before locking back on to mine for good. I feel a sharp flutter of panic at first and I’m tempted to blah-blah-blah the moment away, but I resist it and maintain our eye contact. My hands knead the carpet to help keep the dream stable. After I’m past the initial fear, my mantra “Look for the dream” returns to me. Dreamer’s mouth turns up in a half smile as my fear gives way to calm.

After a while, I say, “[Jenkees] must be here, right? I really want to meet him!” Dreamer grins at this idea and agrees. We both stand up and I gesture toward the adjacent hallway, saying, “Ah look, [Jenkees] is even here right now!” A rather doughy, pasty guy who looks nothing like Jenkees walks through the door and joins us in the den.

I notice that he’s way too short. “[Jenkees], you’re supposed to be so much taller than this!” The guy smiles sheepishly and starts shrinking even more until he’s only waist height.

Dreamer and I laugh at how badly I’ve botched this summon. “Sorry, [Jenkees],” I say. “I’ll do better with this next time!”

Dreamer and I try to talk a bit more about dream goals, but it isn’t long before the dream ends.