• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    The Fourth Factor

    What can I say? Some dreams just call out to be shared. I've always found it interesting to read about other people's dream lives, and now I'm giving them the same chance.

    1. The Moon has Fallen Asleep

      by , 05-31-2021 at 01:26 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Another dream on the verge of being lucid without quite being there. In the earliest part I can remember clearly, Iím on a computer: Iím looking up some band Iím interested in, trying to find more of their music. But the dream shifts to another scenario. It still isnít lucid, but itís pretty clear Iím not actually invested in it as real. Iím initially in an outdoor farm-like area with flamingos some distance away, observing interactions between characters. I only identify with one when sheís asked a question, changing to her viewpoint and responding as her. Thereís a sense of making things up as I go along. I need to go somewhere now, and so I call to the nearby leopard, which I call Arthur, telling him to come with me. (I use the German pronunciation. I am about 90% sure I decided to name it after Schopenhauer.) It doesnít want to get up, but I pull it to its feet, which it tolerates, and we walk away.

      Next, I remember entering a building. Itís somewhat reminiscent of a building on a campsite, just a long rectangle, possibly something like an uninsulated metal frame, and has no interior divisions. Itís mostly empty and white, and thereís an even stronger sense of almost-lucidity here. Itís as if whatever plot there may have been has definitely gone off the rails by now, and Iím driving things, though not in a fully conscious way.

      I go over to the bed in the nearest corner Ė other than the one by the door I entered from Ė and sit down on it. What follows is maybe best described as a strange kind of visual thinking Ė a little like reading a picture book, where I cease to really be present in the room and am absorbed in the stories that are playing out in mental space. Itís hard to describe since it isnít exactly like anything that happens while awake Ė but itís almost like thereís another presence there telling the stories.

      They seem to be some kind of philosophical parable, and also a sort of story-behind-stories, representing something that was once commonly manifested in literature from an earlier time. The first one was so utterly bizarre that I canít remember a thing about it now Ė but in the dream, I understand it perfectly since the meaning in all its facets and interrelations is just a part of it as it is presented. I can see it all mapped out, like a complex constellation. But some of the points are placed in the wrong locations for it to reflect reality. Itís something I was already aware of, but itís a little sad to see it laid out like this so clearly.

      Thereís enough of a gap for the room to enter my awareness again before the second story begins. This one is apparently communicating the same thing as the first one did, but in a different way. I can remember the beginning of this one Ė how the wolves were all howling at the moon, but the moon had fallen asleep and couldnít hear themÖ

      5.30.21
      Categories
      non-lucid
    2. Demons or Double Bass?

      by , 01-15-2020 at 12:33 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I am on a computer, looking through files. Iím trying to find papers from an earlier part of the dream where Iíd stayed after a math class drawing, and the teacher had brought over a stack of graded assignments heíd apparently been working on while I sat there. Iíd just glanced at them and seen thatíd Iíd done really well on them before taking off, but now I want a closer look, and this was apparently where they were.

      I scroll through small pictures, some of which began to move. One has expanded to fill the whole screen. It shows a house on fire, people running out. It scrolls past a small stage on which two double basses stand, one the traditional sort, another more metallic Ė electric by the look of it, but still a roughly double bass size and shape. It sits in a sort of flower-shaped metal pad. It catches my attention, and Iím struck by the level of detail.

      I am now Ė not sure in what order Ė both present in the dream and lucid. Iím in a park-like area, a clearing with groves of trees and some woods not far off. Another stage is nearby, this one a roofed circular platform on which sits another of those big electric basses. I consider giving it a try Ė that could be fun. But it occurs to me that Iíve never produced frightening scenarios in lucid dreams before, and I should try it at least once.

      Surrounded by demons is the first thing that occurs to me for some reason. Thatíll do. I will them into being. As I focus on the intention, everything around me grows dark, swirling and immaterial. Iím floating, moving vaguely backwards. But nothing else seems to be happening. Oh, well. Maybe Iíll give that bass a try after all.

      I let go of the intention. The original scene immediately returns, and I walk back towards the area I started out in. But not far from it, by a ridge in front of a forested area, I spot a strange figure. Its head looks like a skull, bovine in shape, with horns that curl around to the front and knot around each other, and itís wearing a black and white herringbone tweed blazer with a thin purple scarf and a long grey-black skirt. It looks like I managed something, at least, although I canít say itís especially scary.

      As I approach, it waves its hand, causing a small sphere of darkness to shoot towards me. This startles me a bit, but it doesnít seem to have any effect. I keep walking towards it, ignoring its attacks. As I pass the pavilion, I notice the instrument sitting there looks different now. There are also now a number of cats up under the roof, lying in big cat piles that seem to extend upward into tunnels. They seem to just be waking up. The grey and orange tabbies stay where they are, but a few black cats stretch and jump down onto the stage.

      As I turn back towards the figure, I see that it is now a cat as well Ė a small black one. I pick it up. It doesnít look happy with being held, but it makes no attempt to escape.

      At that point, I wake up.

      9.1.20
    3. Academic Weirdness

      by , 06-01-2018 at 02:40 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I am in a small classroom in a university, but itís not lecture Iím attending here: itís a theatrical performance.

      There are about a dozen of us in the audience, as well as three dogs, two of them large ones, which is almost enough to make the room crowded. Both the main actors are here already too, in the front of the room. It seems theyíre performing ďFaustĒ- or something Faust-ish, at any rate. Both the main characters are being played by women, the title role by HťlŤne Grimaud, although itís not clear whether itís actually the pianist or just a well-known actress who happens to have that name.

      Thereís also a woman in the back who seems to be involved in some official capacity. Sheís the one responsible for checking ticketsóat least theoretically. Iím hoping that remains theoretical since I donít actually have a ticket. The prevailing system here seems to work like train tickets, where the ticket is good for a certain range of dates. While I do have one on hand, itís good for three weeks in November, and itís still October now.

      She begins by giving a short speech, which she records using a small camera. Predictably, the smaller dog, which is hers, sticks its face directly in it at one point. Things come to a halt for a bit as the audience makes a fuss over all the dogs and encourages her to get them on film. But eventually, the performance itself gets underway.

      For a while, itís just the two leads talking, but very clever dialogue. At one point, the Mephistopheles(-ish) character begins asking for members of the audience to volunteer. And, as people begin to get more comfortable, they begin to participate more. Soonówhat with the intimate space and the lack of separation between us and the performersó itís as if weíre a part of the performance rather than just observing it.

      I look out the (partially frosted glass?) wall at a man walking byóhe probably thinks this is a rather odd lesson, given that itís probably not obvious at first glance that itís a performance. But actually, he seems to be part of the performance as well. He enters the room, placing some notes and a glass with some white wine in it on a lectern, and beings to talk about philosophy.

      One of the audience members comments on the wineglass. The newcomer enters into a hilarious dialogue with them, still in a philosophical vein, all in a complete deadpan. I recall him claiming that he wasnít the same person he was a couple of drinks ago. Another half-dozen people seem to have joined the audience at some point, which is more than enough to make the room crowded. At some point, I wake up.

      After writing everything down, I fall asleep again and find myself in a continuation of the dream. I seem to have watched the rest of the performance, as well as the lecture taking place in the room afterwardsóapparently a Marxist interpretation of diabetes, which Iíve stayed to listen to out of a combination of morbid curiosity and a lack of anywhere better to be. But I have a class I need to get to soon, and I want to get some coffee first, so I gather my stuff together and cut out early.

      Once outside, it occurs to me that I donít actually know where this class is going to be held. I find my notebook in my messenger bag and look through it, but it only looks like Iíve got last semesterís schedule written hereónot this oneís. But I do recall receiving an email from somebody mentioning the classís location, so I can check on thatóbut it will have to be on my laptop, since I canít access that particular account on my phone.

      My room isnít far from hereóitís in a large building just down the street. I enter and make my way up to my room. Itís a tiny room, and unlike anywhere Iíve actually lived, but it all seems familiar and somehow pleasant. I put what seems to be my cast-iron shrine teapot on a hotplate on the top of a small, precarious-looking shelf to one side of my desk to boil water for coffee and sit down to find the email.

      According to the email, the class is taking place at St. Johnís Observatoryóso not on campus, then, since I would have seen it if it were. I pull up a map website to find out where it is. To my own amusement, I initially mistype "Kassel"óthe place I have apparently decided I amóas "Kessel" (kettle, that is).

      Based on the pictures my search has turned up, the place Iím going to is a greenhouse as well as an observatory: itís a small building with mostly glass walls, through which greenery can be seen. Iím not sure where it is relative to me just yet, though, and itís now 17:00, when the class was supposed to begin. Maybe that wonít matter so much on the first day? But then it occurs to me: Iím in Germany. Akademisches Viertel. That means I still have time to get there.