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    1. Summoned to Tasmania

      by , 07-23-2015 at 10:41 AM
      Very high-detail dream. Characters demonstrate agency and the Sentinel makes another appearance, this time speaking to the other dream characters. I also engage my sense of smell in the dream.

      --- --- --- --- ---

      I am on facebook when I realised that one of my friends had changed her name to 'Vivian'. I feel quite annoyed that she has taken my name, even though it is my screen name an not my birth name. Focusing on the post causes me to be transported to her location in a small Tasmanian mountain town. I appeared near her in a house that was being used as a small, local day spa business. The visuals were extremely detailed, I felt as though I were actually there. The windows were fogged from the condensation. The staff asked us to be quiet so as to maintain the spiritual ambiance.

      I followed her outside onto the street. It was quiet. The forested hillside across the river was cloaked in mist. Huge red stringy-bark eucalypts rose up amongst the greenery. I breathed in deeply and savoured the fresh, crisp air. I was going to say that I could smell the trees, but I realised that the scent of the air was quite neutral. I could physically feel the air rushing through my nostrils as I inhaled, and I hazard to guess that I was actually performing this action in the waking world. Despite the lack of scent, I was still very much aware of the sensation of smelling. I continued on down the quiet street with her.

      "Did you really bring me here?" I asked. She didn't answer, but glanced at me awkwardly. "Am I really here?" I asked again. I seemed to be intangible to her.
      "I don't know," she replied.
      "But you answered me! So I must exist." I felt like my logic was flawless.

      The town was reminiscent of the one in which we both grew up in. We wandered the streets for a while. There were many shops, but most were closed. I was still astounded at the level of detail here. We met a spritely man with grey hair. He was a priest and seemed to be in his mid 60s. He was one of the only people we had encountered in this town and he greeted us as we passed. My friend suggested I see their local museum while I was here. It was small and quaint. Even though we were in Tasmania, it featured an old Japanese boat, possibly used for whaling, and a preserved bronze figurehead of a tentacled sea monster.

      The dream changed slightly. I was in a building that I believe to be my home. The priest had returned with five others. One was a dark-haired woman and there was a younger man who worked as a lawyer. They were all wearing white robes and gathered close around me. They seemed friendly but were very curious about me for some reason. They discussed me but I was unsure what they were talking about. The Sentinel appeared behind me in the form of a female, someone I believed to be a relative.
      "She is already pregnant," she said, dashing their plans. They were dismayed.
      "What do we do now? We're running out of time." The woman said to the others. I was under the impression that they needed a body, or perhaps to conceive a child, in order to extend their lifetime, and the priest was reaching his deadline.

      The others left, talking amongst themselves with no more interest in me, but the priest remained. We spoke briefly, and then he began to fit and convulse. His robes had darkened from white to black. I rushed over and supported his body to help him, even though I was aware that it may have been a ploy. He recovered quickly, thanked me for my assistance and then left.

      Updated 03-26-2016 at 05:03 AM by 89402

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    2. Yosif and the Temple of Apollo

      by , 06-08-2015 at 11:00 AM
      A slightly disturbing dream, but with all characters displaying a lot of agency and independence. The Sentinel also makes an appearance, a speechless recurring entity who seems to only appear in times of danger.

      --- --- --- --- ---

      I was sitting by the side of the road in my hometown with two friends. We were watching a television signal, using road signs to change programme, but the device was not always sensitive to understand our commands. We stood up and walked along the northern side of the river. I was only a child, and my two companions were comprised of my younger brother and the young daughter of a family friend.

      I saw a list of names scroll through my mind. One name in particular I recognised; Yosif. We happened to be walking past his house. It was white weatherboard at the top of a hillside garden overlooking the river. He came out to greet us. He looked to be in his late forties, but took good care of his physique. He was of Mediteranean background, with olive skin, slick dark hair and a slight accent. I placed him in my memory; he had been a GP at a medical clinic a few towns over whom I had visited many years back. Despite being certain of this information in the dream, I know of nobody named of this description or profession in waking life.

      Innocently, I told him that I had seen him once when I was unwell. He looked uncertain, but my young friend confirmed my memory. He invited us into his house, telling us that the television signal was much stronger inside. We laughed and followed him up through his garden. He took my brother's hand to help lead the way. I didn't know this man well and didn't really feel like spending time in his home, but I wasn't suspicious of him and didn't want to be impolite.

      From the road, his home and garden seemed to be thriving, but walking up through the windy brick paths it became apparent that it had fallen into disarray. Weeds struggled up through the dry earth, the grass was left dying, and the few standard roses still remaining were losing their leaves. Even the house itself was not looking healthy. The white weatherboards were dirty and some had rotted away. He picked up my friend and rested her on his hip, leading us through the garage behind his house. He opened a wooden gate for us, and held it open as we walked through. The dream characters of my brother and friend merged into a single 'child' entity, and the third position of our trio was filled by a young man whom we knew and trusted. He always appeared in dreams to aid me in times of danger, often long before I had even become aware of the threat.

      As soon as I stepped through the door, I felt something was wrong. It was naught but a high-fenced pen. I turned to object to Yosif, only to see the door being closed behind me. I kicked with enough force to stagger him and made my escape. Yosif was distraught that I had spoiled his game. He started busying himself about the house while crying and tearing his hair. I hid nearby in the garden. I heard a woman's voice from inside his house, but she was speaking to me telepathically. I was annoyed at first, believing her to be his well-meaning but ultimately complicit wife.

      "He drowns the children in a deep puddle beside the fence. Sometimes, he likes to submerge his own face in the water as well so that he can share in their experience." She told me. "The weeds in the puddle are a greater hazard than the water itself. The children choke on them."
      On this information, I rushed over to the puddle and started to clear all the vegetation, raking the mud below. The water was grey like run-off and I couldn't see below the surface. She cautioned me against trying.
      "Afterwards, he buries their bodies beneath the puddle so the other children have to look at the faces of the dead while they drown."

      Disturbing, to say the least.

      She told me to go and stay out of sight while she made a phone call and then rushed from the house across to the neighbouring property.
      "I'm coming with you," I said, and cut across the garden to join her. I assumed she was going to call the police. I was relieved my older friend had appeared and been caught as well. He wouldn't go down easily, and may intimidate Yosif long enough for the cops to arrive.

      I followed the woman into her home, an impressive mansion. There were many well-kept sprawling rooms devoted to displays of cultural artefacts which were open to the public. It was much like a small museum. She ducked into a side room and began to speak hastily on the phone. I looked around. This area contained many pieces of Japanese origin; scrolls of calligraphy and maritime implements. There was a scale model of an ancient Japanese whaling ship which caught my attention.

      I noticed a man in one of the rooms with an attendant. He looked to be her adult son; spiky blonde hair and well-built. He had a tattoo of lettering in black and red across his chest. As he was putting on his robes, I saw this his right hand and most of his right leg were missing, but he still had his foot and could move it at will. When he had finished dressing, he looked quite scholarly, and I followed him from his room.

      "Excuse me, but could you tell me what this place is?" I asked.
      "This is the Temple of Apollo," he said, unsure as to how I could be here without knowing where I was. The artefacts in this room definitely had a more European flavour, but I didn't notice anything distinctly Hellenistic.
      "Oh, I didn't realise given the asian influence in the other room," I said and walked off. He followed curiously.
      "This wasn't here yesterday. They must have changed it," he said.

      The museum was quite intriguing and had many patrons. There were model ships and spaceliners, bottles of googly eyes in every size, and fantastic pieces of antique art; a conglomeration of humanity's existence.