CanisLucidus

This was a fun but weird DILD that hit right at the end of a very long NLD. The sudden introduction of this "Dream Coordinator" character was interesting. I enjoy it when my subconscious plays back at me like that.

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #66: The Dream Coordinator

I'm on an epic quest, roaming on foot across the United States with several odd characters: a man in his 50s dragging around an 8-foot potted plant, an 11-year-old anorexic boy, and a pretty, short-haired woman in her mid-40s named "Mrs. Rearden". I've been journeying with Mrs. Rearden the longest and I trust her completely.

It's a foggy morning, and we're all sitting for a moment on a long couch outside of a gas station. I notice that gas is "$1200 / 1000 gallons". I think, "$1200?? God, that's expensive." But I take a moment to do the math and realize that this gas is actually super cheap. "Ah... tricky, tricky!" I think.

I see one of those gas station signs with the changeable letters. It reads, "DUDE THIS SUCKS", which I find surprising. I look closer and see that it has changed to "YES WE'RE OPEN!" Just below the sign I see a row of frightening stone gargoyles perched along one of the gas station walls. Finally I've been bombarded with enough clues and now I know that this is a dream.

The other DCs stare silently ahead, so I ignore them and take a look around. It's still foggy, but I realize that I'm not outside at all but rather in what looks like an enormous airplane hangar. There are windows high up in the corner and I float toward one, planning to phase outside. As I reach the window, though, my vision goes black.

I feel myself floating back down, so once again I imagine that I have a gladius in my hand and start swinging it around everywhere. I land back on the ground, but everything stays black. I can still feel the weight of the gladius and my moving arm, though, so I feel fairly relaxed. I start probing at my dream body and discover that I seem to be wearing nothing but my boxer shorts. Suddenly worried, I check to make sure that my wiener is still there. Yes, all is well.

I've been in the dark longer than I'd like so I call out for help. "Somebody come help me! Mrs. Rearden, I need you to help me!" There's no response. I poke and slap at my face, hoping something will happen. Finally, I decide that maybe something will happen if I take off my boxer shorts. As soon as I attempt this, I hear Mrs. Rearden shout, "Don't do that! Stop it! Here, I'll help you." She grabs my left hand, gives it a hard yank, and pulls me into a new dream scene just outside of a door.

I keep a grip on her hand and we walk through the door. We're on the second story walkway of a mall. Mrs. Rearden looks frightened. She mutters, "This is not where the Coordinator wants us to be."

I'm stunned by this. "Who? The Coordinator?"

"Yes," she says. "The Dream Coordinator. This was not what he had planned." She is really upset and keeps looking nervously around the scene

I tug at her hand and move with her further along the walkway. As we approach an elevator, I say, "There is no Dream Coordinator. This is my dream and we don't answer to anybody. But you don't have to come with me any further. I think I'm okay on my own now."

She responds that she wants to help, but as she's speaking, I become disconnected from my dream body. My perspective sinks down to the busy food court on the mall's first floor. I feel like an insubstantial apparition and I'm desperate to regain physical form. I try the gladius trick but it feels all wrong.

There's a guy with a shaved head nearby, black, in his 30s, wandering happily around the food court. I move toward him, hoping that if I make physical contact it'll bring me back into the dream. He sees me floating toward him, though, and takes off at a dead run, screaming in terror. I don't blame him -- if a ghost in nothing but boxer shorts came after me, I'd run like hell, too. With nowhere else to go, I run out of steam and the dream ends.

This lucid was fueled by pure desperation. I've never fought this hard to save an LD that was going bad, but it paid off. I'm getting a lot of mileage out of this gladius thing.

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #58: Generosity and Giants

A young woman named "Crystal Fleming" is collecting money for a charity, and I've pledged $33.13. I'm proud of my "generosity" and totally thrilled that I've found exact change down to the penny. But now I can't find Crystal. It's night, and I trudge across a snowy field to a picnic table where I think she might be waiting. But rather than Crystal, seated at the table is my friend W.

This is unexpected, and as soon as I question whether I'm dreaming, I know that I am. I tell W, "Gotta go, this is a lucid dream." His face is harshly lit, stony, and expressionless. I realize we're in a small, dark room now, getting darker by the moment. I head for the exit, but the scene fades...

Now I'm in the dark. I'm desperate for a lucid dream, though, so there's no way I'm letting this one go. I start swinging a gladius (ancient Roman sword) and willing myself to be in the Colosseum for Task of the Year. On top of this I shout, "This is still a lucid dream!"

I hear Wife muttering and rolling over nearby, and now I'm scared that I'm really yelling and waving my arms around in the bedroom. I want a lucid too badly to stop trying, though, so I jam the index and middle finger of my left hand into my mouth and start chewing on them. This all feels totally real, but I decide to ride it out to the end. If I look like a psycho, I look like a psycho. I'm not dropping this LD.

Suddenly, a sharp new dream scene forms: I'm standing on our bed, fingers in my mouth, swordless right hand swinging madly. The scene's extremely vivid, but there's a slight motion to everything that I see, like I'm slightly drunk. I hop down from the bed and run out into the hall.

The hallway outside of our bedroom is totally transformed. The carpeting is bright pink and the room is decorated floor to ceiling with stuffed animals. There's an exit to the right that doesn't exist IWL, so I explore it, curious where it leads. I find myself in a new hallway with a tall picture window overlooking an early morning street scene.

I phase through the glass out onto the street. The street is wet as if it rained overnight. A few cars pass by, headlights on. It looks like a work day that's just beginning. I fly up into the air, but my confidence isn't what it should be. My altitude is low and my speed's really pitiful. There's an entrance to a mall food court nearby, and the dream seems to be ushering me toward it. I don't resist.

In spite of the early hours, this food court is packed. It's a two story mall, so I try flying again, getting about 6 feet off of the ground and doing that slow drift again. I spot my reflection in the exit door on the opposite side of the food court. Except the reflection isn't me flying -- it's my 6'8" Uncle J walking toward the door with me flying over his shoulder. He looks solid, substantial, and real, while I look like some kind of phantasm. I look down, and he's not there. But in the glass's reflection, he's solid-looking and completely realistic.

Now I can't decide whether I'm me flying toward the door or if I'm my gigantic uncle, lumbering toward the exit on foot. I switch between feeling like I'm the one flying... then the one on foot... then both...

I raise my hand to phase through the door. Uncle J's reflection does the same. The phase fails. From below, an attractive DC calls to me, saying, "Hi! Come down here." The LD's starting to feel thin and I float down. The DC is about 30 with long, dark hair, and attractive almost to the point of absurdity. I remember reading Waggoner during my WBTB and want to ask her what she represents. I feel weak and insubstantial, though, and my voice is just a hoarse whisper. She looks at me, arms crossed, a wry smile on her face and the scene fades to black.