• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    rshort1202

    1. Tuesday, May 26

      by , 06-03-2020 at 05:08 AM
      I am outside and walking through a neighborhood with a few others. It seems like weíre doing something for a school assignment. Weíre looking for a certain house and come up on one that I think is right because it looks familiar. The house is white with a light blue trim. Itís slightly downhill from the street and is placed horizontally on the lot. The garage is open, revealing all of the stuff inside that looks familiar. The number is something like 150105. I look on the map on my phone, and it shows us about halfway down this street. Looking to the left, I see that the street starts to incline somewhat significantly, telling them I donít remember going uphill. I tell them I can also search Canvas to see if itís the right one. I do so and donít think I find anything. We end up deciding that itís the right house. We go inside, and itís kind of empty and dim. The others take an open riser staircase to the second floor. I stay back and then walk back to the front door. The owner has arrived - itís David from Discology and his son. Theyíre walking up and I meet them at the glass sliding door. I donít think much is said, and I guess he doesnít find it weird that Iím in his house. I say something about the others, and I think he goes to look for them, using a flashlight. I think it is somewhat intense.




      Iím at work and going on a break. I need to use the bathroom, and we have to use Sani Huts. they are scattered all around this parking lot, and I head for a line of them up against a fence. There is a handicapped one, which I take because it is larger, because it is not busy out here, and because there are more in case someone needs it. I am relieved when I step in and find it clean and without much of a scent. I use some toilet paper to put the seat down. I think I am just sitting on top of the seat now, and I notice a window in here. Through it, I see a bed, upon which sit several people. I notice two girls, a couple, what look very similar if not almost the same. They are reclined, tan, and naked from the waist up. Currently, each has her arms above her head, which gently lifts her breasts and perky nipples. They begin taking off each otherís underwear and kissing, so I take out my phone and start taking a video on Snapchat. I canít believe I can see this from here and no one can see in. I briefly contemplate its potential. I end up in another Sani Hut now, and it has the same kind of window. This one seems to be at the end of a dirt road or parking lot. To the left is an old station wagon with an open back. There are one or two women and some kids (maybe on a sports team?) approaching it - it must be theirs. One of the women, Asian?, is wearing a Grateful Dead shirt Iíve never seen before. Itís black and is tasteful; it also looks like it could be homemade. I think itís cool that sheís into them, I think because itís a change from the typical white male. They all start getting into the back of the car, which has blankets and I think string lights. They start playing music and smoking weed out of a lightbulb. One guy, Asian, takes a quick but large hit. I know that I donít smoke, but they seem to be having a great time, which is fine by me. Now, Iím walking out to the Sani Huts again. It is raining fairly hard, which I barely feel. Iím walking over the rocks in a median and notice it pooling up here as well as along the sides of the road.
    2. Saturday, March 28

      by , 03-31-2020 at 04:58 AM
      I am somewhere outside? with Melissa, Pepe, and his mom. I think they both look high and then, sure enough, she lets on that they are. She confides in us that Caesar is the head of some pot farm/ selling ring or something similar. I can see it, imagining him and his boisterous personality right now. Now, I am climbing up through some tall and thin wooden structure. I pass through Ďfloorsí that are spaces barely bigger than my body. Each side of the space, I think even including the top, is a mirror, making for a trippy experience. I now get to what seems to be the top. It is different because the sides are concave, joining in a small ceiling, and it seems thereís nowhere left to go. I donít accept this possibility though, and push on one of the sides. It opens and reveals a vast, dim space that I think may be the pot farm.




      I am in New York City with Melissa, walking along a sidewalk. The street is busy and I can smell and taste the putrid emissions from passing trucks. The sidewalk is close enough to the street, but it thins even further at one point, leaving hardly any space for foot traffic. We pass a tower with a parabolically curved glass facade. The glass is mostly translucent, but it gets much dimmer higher up. There is a space behind the glass, in which there are large advertisements. Melissa says something about how they wonít even be visible. I agree. We end up in a restaurant that seems familiar (from another dream, I think). I notice a couple about our age in the booth behind us, across from me. They are dressed pretty nice for this place and sitting on the same side. I think about their life. I notice a man in sunglasses sitting alone at a booth diagonal from us. Melissa asks to trade sides, and we do. I look through the fairly short menu and decide I want pretty much the first thing on it, some corn dog things. The waitress, brunette and maybe 30+, comes over and seems out of it, like drunk or sad or something. She gives us a minute. I look at the extensive beer list in the back. Theyíre sorted by brewery (they must all be local - I donít recognize any), under the breweryís logo. The price per beer is then listed after the name, lowest to highest, separated by slashes. Most of the first prices are six to seven dollars, but I see prices like 9,16, 27, 59, etc. I think these prices must be for bottles and/or pitchers but that theyíre still ridiculous. I guess thatís just how it is in the city. Nothing sounds too good anyway, so I figure Iíll settle for a slightly cheaper bill. The waitress returns and sits by me, putting her hand on my shoulder. It could be a nice gesture, but with how she is slightly rubbing her hand it is taken a little too far. She takes Melissaís order and then mine. I say ĎI just found something, where did it go?í, trying to find it again. I find it and tell her while also pointing. She doesnít say much. She comes back and sits again. This time she reaches over and grabs my crotch. I am a little shocked and put my own hand over it. When I move my hand, she does it again and then leaves. I text or tell Melissa and she just shrugs it off. I want to tell her what kind of reaction there would be if the genders were switched.
    3. Monday, December 16

      by , 12-17-2019 at 01:37 AM
      I am sitting in the outdoor seating of a building that is downtown (I think with Granny). There is a building to the left that has an awning over a stone facade and its entryway. I notice plaques, photos, and other framed objects, so I think it must be something like a visitorís center. On my phone, I see that Sage has posted a picture of a building very similar to this one. The caption says something about having a good time in London, though. In this picture, it looks like Mt. Rose is in the background, so I look at the building by me and end up seeing the exact same backdrop. I find it weird that sheíd lie about that. I donít think it was posted all that long ago and now, sure enough, I see Sage and her parents walking over from that direction. I think they see me and are coming over to say hi.




      I am outside somewhere (it almost feels like the backyard of the old house) with a group of unfamiliar others. This group is, for whatever reason - therapeutic I think - going to be smoking cannabis together. It seems like everyone has their own preferred method of smoking. I have a new joint, probably from a dispensary. Thereís someone by me, so I start small conversation by asking what strain they have. Iím pretty sure I have an indica. We are smoking now; I was unsure about smoking with others, but I think itís fine. This joint feels weak towards the smaller end, like itís going to fall apart. Now, I have to go to work. Itís mostly fine being high here and kind of a trip watching the cameras, but thereís also something important going on that I think Iíd rather be sober for.
      Tags: joint, weed
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    4. Wednesday, March 6

      by , 03-13-2019 at 07:04 PM
      I am with Dad and Makayla in an unfamiliar house, on the brown couch. I have a pair of athletic looking Hanes underwear that are on clearance that I am folding and clipping onto a hanger. It is pretty dim in here, and there is something on the TV. Iím not sure if itís a movie or what. The scenario is Ted? and some middle aged men (on a sports team I think) getting drug tested. They have to lay down and their outline is sort of outlined or saved on the ground. From toe to head it then fills with color seemingly out of nowhere, the colors indicating drug use. The problem I notice (and they donít?) is that this is being tested on everyone at once, so youíre not able to see who it was that tested positive. Iím thinking that Ted will test positive because I smoked with him just the other week. The people notice the color indicating drug use, and it then comes out that it is the coach what has been using marijuana weekly (for pain?). He seems slightly defensive and like he thinks testing for it is stupid. Now, I notice that Iím in only a tan bath towel as I get up. I think there are others here, as I am apparently addressing them as I say/shout something like Ďthere is a war and you might as well accept it.í No one responds, so I feel slightly self conscious but still supportive of what Iíve said.
    5. Tuesday, February 19

      by , 02-22-2019 at 02:29 AM
      I am at some small event in some smaller event room. There are people from work here as well as Sage and maybe her boyfriend. I have come here with Makayla; I think it is somewhere in California. Makayla calls Mom to ask if we can stay here for dinner. I say, mostly to myself since sheís on the phone, that Mom could throw us a 20 and it would help. Mom says yes, inciting a subdued bout of excitement. I envision taking an Uber back just as a humorous scenario, mentally gawking at what it would cost if they even go that far. I am seated now, at the end of one of two tables that abuts the other. Against the wall and on smaller display tables are the beers on tap. Each actually looks like its own little machine - they range in appearance from slushee machines to small drink vending machines, etc, each with their own design for the beer within. Evelyn from work is looking at them all, very closely. I wasnít going to go up and look at them alone, so I take this opportunity. There are some fairly good options, but nothing amazing. I think I see the Sierra Nevada Torpedo. I think there is a porter and a hefeweizen, the hefe in what looks like a pineapple yellow pina colada machine. I think its name is slightly off - actually Heineken or something? I think I decide to pass on it because it seems like a bad imitation of the style. I think I end up with a glass of the Torpedo. Iím now seated again, across from Sage and maybe her boyfriend. The apparent host, a petite, bald, bespectacled man wearing a white apron around his waist, is coming around and jovially making sure everything and everyone is okay. Everyone seems to be uplifted by this quaint manís demeanor. He takes Sageís order, which is Ďspare porkí. I now see a plate of it in front of her, three or four generously sized slices of pork. He looks at me now, and I want the same thing, but Ďspare porkí sounds wrong, so I say instead Ďthe same thingí. I notice my drink is a few sips away from being empty. I want to order another while I have the service available, but I also donít want to ask for more while I still have some.




      I am working a wedding. I am standing outside and near the entrance gate to what seems to be a large, upscale country club. Everything seems spread out, showcasing the grassy, and in places marshy, land. It seems like a pleasant day. I am holding a fairly big gift bag - it is for the couple whom I just saw but now cannot find. I feel sort of out of place. I want to get this gift to them, but guests keep showing up, expecting me to direct them. A lifted, impossibly white truck approaches; the driver is impeccably clean cut and dressed in an effortlessly classy and flattering suit. Through his open window, he tells me that he likes my shoes. They are my new ones (that I bought at work). Iím also wearing dress pants and a tucked dress shirt. He now asks me where the Ďhalfway pointí is, and I hesitate. He asks again, kind of snootily, as if I should know right away. It makes me feel kind of stupid. I then recall an image of a white line on some asphalt, so I tell the man to continue on and he will see the halfway point marked with a white line, gesturing with my hands. To my left, I see the asphalt walkway meandering through and then becoming obscured by some tall grasses. I see men in suits walking with girls in dresses, all pastel colors, and it is idyllic. I now start walking, but I am not on any walkway. The ground is marshy; my feet start to sink enough to get the tops of my shoes wet. Beth has apparently been watching me and asks what Iím doing. I inwardly agree with her sentiment and start to come back. I still want to give them this gift though, so I start again, though this time I seem to be holding onto some kind of ledge and traversing with my feet also on some small lip of something more solid than the marsh. It all seems cramped and small and obscured by the foliage. *It is as Iím doing this that I hear my alarm go off.




      Mom is in my room and has apparently been going through my stuff, as she is holding up whatís left of a joint in a plastic bag that was hidden in my laundry basket. She seems really upset, mad, or disappointed. Iím not sure why; itís really not that big of a deal to me. Sheís also holding some new clothes she got for me. There are some tank tops on hangers and some red and blue underwear that look more like Speedos. I take them and hang them in the closet; they are a tight fit. I think Iím getting ready to go to class or work.




      I am in the bathroom with Melissa. I am naked at least from the waist down, and using some hair removal cream? on my pubic region. For whatever reason, I start rubbing it on my lower legs, until it starts to feel like thereís less hair (I didnít intend to remove the hair on my legs). I tell Melissa I just accidentally removed all my leg hair and she doesnít believe me. I rub my legs, feeling only skin and stubble.
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    6. Saturday, February 16

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:43 AM
      I am about to go to a party with Amy, Blake, Salina, etc. Melissa is with me right now, and I think weíre at Dadís. We go into the garage to pick a few beers from a case (*they look like the Lost Coast ones). While weíre getting ready/are ready, a dark SUV pulls into the driveway. The people about our age in it are dressed up like itís Halloween and are coming back from this party like itís already over. One of the guys seems a little too intoxicated. We stop and talk with them for a little. Now Iím thinking about the possibility of them offering weed at the party. I consider if Iíd accept or not and how much, if any, Iíd mix with drinking.




      Iím in a bedroom, writing down either the notes for a dream Iíve remembered or the dream itself. Dad and Scottie are in here too. Scottie is awkwardly watching me, seemingly amazed. Itís kind of annoying, and I think about going to a different room.
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    7. Wednesday, February 6

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:36 AM
      I am, I think, outside of a large, unfamiliar house. Itís slightly above me in elevation, and thereís a slightly winding walkway down to the water? It ends in an octagonal and covered dock. Itís covered in what seems like a green canvas material. There are multiple pieces of it, resulting in slight openings where their edges meet. Someone is/was with me; I ask her if she thinks the weed scent would linger down here, and she says no. I recline in a chair and light a joint. After a few tokes, I shake off the resulting clump of ash.
    8. Saturday, January 19

      by , 02-02-2019 at 11:56 PM
      I am outside of the preschool (I only have the thought that it is the preschool - it looks nothing like it). Iím standing with my back against a cement wall. I think itís a ramp or something, as the building is a bit above where I am. It seems more like an elementary school. Melissa and some other girl are with me. I am smoking a joint, passing it to this other girl at times. Now, Nathanielís mom and sister show up. I hold the joint down at my left side, partially obscuring it, but not completely concealing it, as I donít feel the need to. They start talking with us and Beatrice, seeming older, casually takes the joint. Before she does anything with it, Stephanie asks sharply ďis that a marijuana cigarette?Ē with a small, incredulous, and accusing emphasis on the last two words. It is largely rhetoric anyway; she already knows it is. She bats it out of her hand and the two of them leave. When Stephanie asked, Melissa had quickly said no and backed away a few steps. I pick the joint up, bending it back into shape a bit, feeling bad about this whole situation. Apparently word has gotten to Niki, as she is quickly coming over here. She seems mad as she tries to talk to me and I just walk away from her. Sometime later I am texting Melissa, telling her Iím very sorry. She says that Stephanie is livid. I get the impression that Melissa is more upset at her being mad than at me. I now go into a building here, as if Iím going to work. It looks nothing like work and more like an IKEA, but more ornate and with larger rooms with higher ceilings. There is so much furniture and things on the walls that it looks as if it could be a hidden object game. There are a lot of people walking through here. I am taking a few of the same fuzzy, zip-up sweatshirts back. I feel a little high, and it is agreeable. It puts a smile on my face. Without the sweatshirts now, I enter a room. This room has a dark wood floor and a velvety, mossy green tapestry covering two of the walls. Thereís also a black grand piano on the left wall. James is here, and I ask if he can play. He tells me ďa littleĒ and sits at the piano. He starts playing something that actually sounds pretty advanced. It oscillates between low and high notes; the lows sound far too deep for a piano, and the high notes are pretty high as well. I think that Iíd like to try this piano. I also think that there are two older men sitting in two chairs in the far corner.
    9. Friday, July 13

      by , 08-31-2018 at 08:05 PM
      I have DMT. This DMT is in the form of little white rings that look just like the lifesaver mints. I have quite a few of them (for a moment I think theyíre laid out in a grid). I think I am going to take a ľ of one - enough for a mild trip.



      I have gotten high (from smoking pot, Iím pretty sure). It hits me and is rather intense. I havenít been high in a long time and its wave is familiar but almost catches me off guard. I am in a room with Melissa (I want to say Melissa, but it also might be Felicia?) and both her and the roomís proportions seem off and fuzzy. She asks if Iím high, though it is obvious. I stumble back into a counter at one point.
      Tags: dmt, drugs, high, weed
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