• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Carabas

    1. A phone number and a street in winter

      by , 08-31-2016 at 06:16 AM
      (Dreaming hasn't been a focus lately, but: )

      I'm floating in a void full of clouds and stars, and recognize that I'm lucid. A destination comes to mind - not one I'd planned in advance, it's an impulse. With that thought, I have the impression I've changed direction, moving closer to the earth - slightly negative connotations here; not bad, just frivolous.

      I'm in a bar; it serves as a front room for my actual destination. There's conversation, people sitting around at tables; the bartender's a heavyset and balding man. Asks what I want to drink. I believe I'm not physical enough here to either drink or pay for anything, but refusing to order anything isn't acceptable, so I ask for a water. I'm thinking about the unusual vividness of this scene. The man to my right, clearly a regular, starts talking to me and the bartender, talking about the guy who owns this place (the person I came here to see) and the way things are done here; I'm going to have to set up a tab before I can order anything, even water. The bartender asks to see my phone in order to give me the owner's number. I take it out, but the screen's showing what I think of as the real world, in contrast to this place. I'm concerned about the bartender seeing that and recognizing that I'm out of place here. I hand him the phone anyway. He programs the number in without seeing anything out of the ordinary and hands my phone back.

      The image on the phone, my 'real' world, is showing a woman with dirty blonde hair, winter clothing, knit hat, walking on a narrow street at night, the outskirts of a small city maybe, lots of greenery around on this particular street but the sense that there's a much more heavily built up area within walking distance. She's talking to someone, male, a friend or a sibling. The scene shifts so I'm there with them. They walk, they talk, they're being followed by something other than me.
      There's a sense of the dream becoming a nightmare.

      As they entered an apartment building, I made the mistake of reacting to the other thing following them, thus letting it realize I was aware of it and attracting its attention. It attempted to latch onto me instead, and in the next scene it's taken on the role of my younger sibling (not one of my actual IRL ones), inserting itself into a role in my dream the same way it had been playing a role in that woman's dream.
      There was a brief moment where I accepted it as my sibling, before I remembered. It was very shocked when I hurt it in the process of removing it. "Ow, ow, you're hurting me!" "Get off of me, then." It did, and I woke up.

      Updated 08-31-2016 at 06:18 AM by 64691

      Categories
      nightmare , lucid
    2. Jules in Bangladesh

      by , 12-01-2015 at 07:39 PM
      There's a party full of drunk and pretty people I've gotten caught up in; it's being held in the honor of someone I don't really know, and when a group splits off for the private party, I go with them. The door closes behind me and Jules. Jules is dead sober - I'm not - and he doesn't look amused.

      I'm talking to him about the person I've been trying to meet up with, a guy who's meant to be part of this group of party people somewhere; I'd first met him in a cell in Bangladesh, where I'd been trying to track down a particular object. I'm trying to stir Jules' memory of that time, but he just nods, goes yeah, yeah - he's annoyed.

      He says, "Was I shot?" in a tone that suggests this happens frequently, and is probably my fault.

      "In the left arm," I tell him.

      He looks at the fingers of that arm, and I see a mental image of the neck of a stringed instrument. The implication is that getting shot affected his ability to play. Jules says, less annoyed now, "I do remember that one."
    3. Snakes and a water-themed in-between place

      by , 10-28-2015 at 10:06 PM
      In the previous scene, I'd been doing shots with a man who drinks live snakes, one every day. The bartender gives me a dead one, since it's my first time; it'll go down easier. Now I'm walking around half-submerged ruins where I've been before. There's meant to be a door here, though I hadn't seen it the first time around. Now that I'm searching, though, I spot the fold in reality that's hidden it, pull it through so that it becomes solid. It's set in the base of what had been an empty stone arch.

      The other side of the door is an in-between place, and I go slightly lucid in order to pause and enjoy the view. It's a stone bridge hanging in space, pale stone, low and sloping walls on either side, and something like coral growing over it in patches. This space has the quality of light seen from underwater, and floating above there's some enormous, amorphous, diaphanous shape, jellyfish-like. It's all very pleasant.

      Along the bridge I run into two women with the tails of snakes, mermaid-like, who are frozen in place, and whose verbal words don't match the meanings I hear - the verbal words are friendly, the underlying meaning is to get me to come close enough and stay long enough for them to kill and eat me. I find them pleasant, too; I can't blame them for being hungry, this place sees so little traffic, and I don't intend to stay long enough for them to kill me, so they're effectively harmless.

      When I leave the in-between place, it takes me to a scene where an Egyptian woman with a clipboard is consulting a guest list. I have to wait in line behind some snake-haired triplets while a dead human woman talks to the woman with the clipboard, trying to justify why she belongs inside, citing the royal status of her lover.

      Updated 10-28-2015 at 10:10 PM by 64691

      Categories
      lucid , non-lucid
    4. Romanticization and ugliness

      by , 02-27-2015 at 11:01 PM
      I'm in a garden, speaking in Russian with a very old human man in a wheelchair. We have an arrangement. I'm to kill him, but as he puts it, without ugliness. That he wants his death to be smooth, I have no problem with, but this ugliness he's referring to isn't about his own death, it's about preserving his image of me, or rather what I represent to him. He says I'm a man who should understand this, unlike that brother of mine - he uses a word that my dream doesn't bother to translate aside from noting that it's uncomplimentary. The old man wants to believe in the existence of a creature that's above all the things he dislikes in humanity, an embodiment of death without ugliness. I'm disgusted and feel illogically betrayed by hearing this from him, a man more intimately acquainted with violence than any human I've ever known - he of all people shouldn't have any illusions about this. It's hypocrisy.

      As he talks we move indoors, to a dimly-lit room that's kept very cold. He has a selection of alcohol lined up before a mirror, and I go to pour him a glass; as I do so I see a small portrait of a blonde woman, which I pick up. A woman who works for him, who's been pushing his wheelchair, urgently asks me to be careful with that. I recognize the image as his granddaughter - she's how I met him in the first place, years back. He laughs and corrects me, and he says this in English: "Vivian. Her mother." This startles me, and I examine the portrait again - I would never have guessed they weren't the same person. Her mother had died before I met her.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      While using a spell to pull out some relevant books and scrolls from a collection, one of the books that comes to me is titled "The Unbeauty of Life," by a Japanese author.

      I'm running up several flights of stairs, spiraling upward through a ruined building, piles of rubble around; I should have fled the building with the others when I reached the first floor but instead I kept going upward, thinking of the woman I'd originally come here to track down. As I reach the upper levels I find her laboratory, with her books scattered on the floor, sarcophagi in rows. The next level above that is devoted to "the theatrical vampire," complete with red stage curtains hanging on the wall, full of what I think of as romanticized images from stage and screen, and as I look at it I remember the sound of her laughing. There's one more floor above this.

      Updated 02-27-2015 at 11:10 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. Selene's descendants, a border, onyx

      by , 01-10-2015 at 11:14 PM
      A phrase: "Catherine, and the first dream of a 2000 year-"

      There had been a queen long ago named some variation on Selene - I admired her, and I've been looking after all the generations of her descendants ever since. In a few rare circumstances I'll even take one of her descendants in and raise them myself. Some resemble her a great deal, others don't - I think about bloodlines. Now one of her descendants is in love with me, and she's upset that I've told her I would be happy with a platonic relationship or otherwise, leaving the decision entirely up to her - she wants me to feel more strongly about it. She says if I would be happy with a platonic relationship, I can't really care about her. But I've been a presence and an influence in her life since she was born, and I foresaw this moment before she was born - I've had too much influence. I want to influence her as little as possible in this at least. It has to be entirely her decision.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I've had too much to drink, and I'm making my way back to my hotel room with some woman, past the now-abandoned maypoles in the lobby, litter from the party on the floor. My vision's blurry, and I have this mental monologue about how I must be getting old if the drink's messing with my vision like this. She pushes me onto the bed, and my vision blurs more - through that blurred vision, her hair's much longer now. Also she has wings, white feathers. Fuck, I know this demon. There goes my night. She sits on the edge of the bed and tells me she wants what I promised her on the night I abandoned my child. I have a memory of taking him (? I think it was a him) to a border of some kind and making him cross, so that he'd be safely out of my reach. The demon's crawled onto the bed now, and when I tell her she's out of luck, the thing we got that night is already gone, she phases her hands through my chest, squeezes and twists something inside that shouldn't be squeezed or twisted.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      Setting's a fantasy version of ancient China, a king in his bedroom talking to a priestess all in white via a vision in a mirror. He was telling her about people who will be coming her way, intending to use a sacred object in her care. But she's saying that what they want isn't possible - they've misunderstood its purpose. The portal it opens can't be used to take them to the divine realms. She says, "(something) and onyx must not overlap."
    6. Bottled blood and rabbits

      by , 12-16-2014 at 10:56 PM
      I've hidden a human girl in my room, and I'm trying to distract my "sister" so the human will have a chance to escape. It's not difficult - we don't get along at all, so it's easy to pick a fight. We both look and act like and possibly really are teenagers. I walk away from her, giving the impression that I want her to leave me alone, knowing that's the easiest way to make sure she'll follow me. Looking for a drink, I walk into a room where my "sister's" left a human girl lying semi-conscious on the floor. I hate her parties - I hate living here in general; it's like living in a frat house. That's part of why I want to help that human escape - I know she's been investigating us but I don't care, I really, really dislike these people. I haven't been here long, maybe a week, and I'm hoping my "father" will decide to move again soon. I pick up a nearly-empty bottle, take a drink - alcohol. I spit it out and pick up another bottle. I ask the semi-conscious girl, hey, is this my sister's drink? She doesn't answer me, and I wasn't really expecting her to. I drink it anyway. Yes, this one's my "sister's." I hate the taste of bottled blood, but it's what I'm used to. Keeping the bottle, I walk outside.

      The yard out back is huge, and ends in a fence with barbed and electric wires running along the top. As I'm walking along the edge of that fence, I come across a padlocked gate. It opens directly onto a dirt road, and on the other side of the road there's another gate - no locks on this one - opening onto a trail leading into the woods. There's something intensely familiar about this - it bothers me. I have the feeling I've seen this a long time ago, like some childhood memory. I say something about this to my "sister," but she doesn't see why that would bother me. As I'm trying to explain the odd feeling, I'm distracted by a sound from the other side of the fence, way off to our right.

      On the side of the fence opening directly onto the woods, there's two people who look like hikers trying to climb the fence and look inside. They're talking to each other cheerfully, wondering what they've come across and what the barbed wire's for - to keep something out or in? It's to keep you out, I tell him as I lean over the wires, grab him and smash his head against the wooden part of the fence. It's to keep them out for their own protection, otherwise this happens. My "sister" has taken the woman he was with. Then I hear voices from the woods - they weren't alone. While my "sister's" still busy with hers, I jump over the fence and run down the other three hikers. I find myself humming as I do so - when I've finished, I realize I'm thinking of the tune as an old drinking song from the 1800s. That's odd - I wasn't alive then, where do I know that song from? I have a vague impression of enjoying myself while singing that song in a situation much like this. I look at the hiker I'm still holding, and I think, just a little while ago I was having a conversation with someone killing a rabbit, and I'd said that it wasn't the death I objected to, it was the attitude behind it, the lack of respect. What a hypocrite I am.
    7. The Scottish play

      by , 12-14-2014 at 09:05 PM
      I'm sitting at the foot of the banquet table at the McKittrick as the Macbeths come down the stairs. They're drunk. Lady Macbeth's laughing, leaning against her husband. There may or may not be others sitting around the banquet table with me - I have a vague impression of shapes in the chairs, but they're insubstantial. I'm not sure how visible I am, for that matter.

      Macbeth picks up his lady and carries her to the dais with her legs wrapped around his waist. He takes her to a chair set against the wall, not at the table, and as he lets her go he says something into her ear, much too quietly for me to hear. As he walks away she says, suddenly serious, "I doubt it." He comes to stand over the banquet table, clumsy movements, overconfident attitude. I'm enjoying watching him, and the sense of anticipation.
    8. Samael in the company cocktail lounge

      by , 10-16-2014 at 05:51 PM
      I got on an elevator expecting it to go up, this being the ground floor - there's only one floor above us, and only arrows instead of floor numbers. But it went down. I wonder how many basement levels there are. I reach to press the up arrow, saying something about my mistake to the woman still on the elevator with me. I'm new to this building. We talk about the company a bit as the elevator continues down, about finding your way around the various floors, and various luxuries that are provided for employees. I mention soul-selling and Satan, meaning it as a joke, but she talks about Satan fondly. We reach her floor, and she leaves.

      My point of view switches to follow her - she walks down a hallway into a club. Her brother who goes by the name of Beelzebub - a fake name, it's really Samael - is lounging around with a cocktail glass in his hand, some glowing blue drink inside. He's a pretty man with long dreadlocks, wearing something black covered in stylized eyes in red. The woman's removed the pale coat she was wearing on the elevator, and the dress she's wearing underneath matches her brother, black and covered in stylized eyes in red. They consult about someone he describes as "a friend and a most simple prize."

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      There's this swirling black mass of many colors, like an oil slick, lit up from within like lightning seen from above. I'm eager to dive in immediately - it's a portal - but I'm also thinking I should stop and go lucid first. As I'm torn between these two desires which are apparently conflicting, I wake up.

      (Side note: that last was a reaction to trying reality checks. As a rule I'm not interested in them, but I have a lot of false awakenings that I tend to just spend dream journaling and I thought I could put reality checks to use there. So today I tried a reality check as I wrote that first dream up, and apparently this sort of thinking is the immediate result - associating lucidity with stopping what I'm doing to perform an action. Nuisance.)
    9. Debating execution

      by , 08-30-2014 at 03:49 AM
      Setting loosely based on China some centuries ago. There's two men standing on either side of a gateway; they used to know each other a long time ago, but not anymore. The one inside's a soldier; the one outside used to be. Currently he's drunk and being held up by two soldiers who work under the one inside. The one inside is deciding whether or not to have the other one executed. In the end he decides against it and says something along the lines of "Get this drunkard out of my sight."

      As a disembodied observer, I'm thinking that he's going to regret that decision. In a few years they'll be rivals who both want something or someone, and the other man will win. I see an image of that future, where the man currently standing inside that gate is now watching the other man from a distance. He's thinking back to this moment and wondering what would have happened if he'd executed him then.
    10. Colin

      by , 08-20-2013 at 09:30 PM
      3rd person, following a blond guy named Colin. He's frustrated with his relationship, and as he's lying in bed, he decides to invade the dream of an ex-boyfriend. The ex, a kind of hippie-looking guy with curly hair, is in another relationship now and doesn't want to cheat, even in a dream, which Colin thinks of as ridiculous but also part of why he's fond of this guy, so he just transforms himself to look like the ex's current boytoy.

      But a stray thought about the failed relationships he's had since this guy causes the dream scene to change to show those relationships. (Meaning my dream, not Colin-and-his-ex's dream.) For a while he'd been hooking up with a demon, who was a real sweetheart but they never managed to turn it into anything more serious than occasional hookups. Then for over a year he'd lived with this guy who works at the expat bar, and Colin can't believe he put up with that guy for so long - great lay but massively uncomfortable with witchcraft. He would never even set foot in the basement where Colin worked, and he'd make these 'in the closet' jokes about 'broom closets' and then explain the joke every time, hahah, closet, broom closet, witches, get it - what a douche. Colin thinks he should've done it the other way around - hookups with the bartender, move in with the demon.

      Updated 08-20-2013 at 09:35 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    11. Elinar

      by , 08-15-2013 at 11:43 PM
      3rd person. Some centuries ago this guy's life was ruined by getting mixed up with a demonic creature using the name Elinar, which looks vaguely like a rabbit. (Or possibly Elihar. Can't read my own writing.) Now he's working together with a witch, and when he visits her in her workshop for the first time, he finds Elinar there, serving as her familiar. Up until this moment neither he nor the witch had been aware of the other's connection to Elinar, and now a lot of the 'coincidences' that led them to work together are starting to look suspicious.

      Fragments from earlier: A woman pretending to be blind is followed by men in black suits, who aren't aware she can see them. A musician reminisces about the time about a hundred years ago when he'd played for a town that had never heard of alcohol, and found the place surprisingly refreshing.

      Updated 08-16-2013 at 08:34 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid , dream fragment
    12. Chiron

      by , 08-10-2013 at 10:32 PM
      I'm drinking with a dead soldier from ancient Greece, and we started out talking about Dionysus and Hades but we've gotten around to talking about Chiron in comparison to Buer, and he complains to me that Chiron's been greatly misrepresented, which he blames on a line in Homer that people take out of context. He says that Homer had some nerve to characterize the guy as overly fastidious while he was killing everything "from here to Salamacia" - meaning some campaign they'd been on together, and I see the soldier's memory of Chiron washing the blood and dirt off in a river, stripped to the waist and with so much blood on his hands it looks nearly black. He's human; extraordinarily tall, but human.
    13. Tolkien and handcuffs

      by , 08-09-2013 at 07:43 PM
      I'm traveling, spending the night in an old stone tower. Thranduil's standing watch out in the woods, I can see him through the window. The rain's coming down pretty hard, much harder than it was during my watch and I'm still trying to warm up, sitting up brewing something hot to drink. I'd like to call him back inside, let him stand watch from the window instead, but I know he wouldn't. Everyone's still on edge about that Balrog. I hear voices at the bottom of the tower, one of the Men with us calling to Thranduil, telling him to quit haring off on his own like that. I can't see where Thranduil's gone, but the two Men who'd been guarding the door are looking around the edge of the woods. Then a leather wing covers the window for a moment and blocks my view, something flapping around the tower carrying a rider, and I shout to the others to wake up.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'm sitting at a bar drinking something green in a shot glass, when iron handcuffs are snapped around my wrists. Some crime has been committed, something which I'd planned to do. I didn't go through with it, though. I'm innocent. But it's still my fault that someone else carried out my plan, and I'm willing to take the punishment.