I was sitting outside infront of my house and talked with my parents, then my phone rang. It was N , she called me on my phone even though she doesnt know my number. I didn't get lucid. I couldnt pick it up becuase I was talking to my parents and I didnt want them to hear me speaking english, I'm kinda shy. Then she called me again but I couldnt pick up the phone for the same reason. After that another girl called, and then it popped in my mind, I remember her. She's that black haired girl I used to hang out often , sometimes flirt, she is aloof, kinda cold ,detached , but still a funny girl and we often would hang out and talk about stuff. Now heres the rub; she doesnt exist. Actually I never met her or anyone like her. Shes just a dreamcharacter , but somehow I still remembered her, through my "dream memory". I dont know why but its often that when I am in a dream , I can access memories of previous dreams , what happened before and stuff like that. Like if I live a second life when I go to sleep all night. Pretty weird. So I picked up the phone and spoke with her, asked whatsup , its been a long time ,etc. And the dream ends here. In another dream I dreamt of burglars breaking into my house after the lights go out in the middle of hte night. We were kinda freaked out, but I grabbed a bat and beat the burglars out of the house with all my might . I think I killed one.
I was inside my dad's house surrounded by a group of strange guys. One of them gave me 3 small flowers with the stem almost dry. He than lit a candle and told me to let the flowers touch the flame. I let them touch and suddenly a orange closed box appeared floating in mid air next to my brother. "Now the box will over flood with blood". I watched as the outer appearance changed to blood than pondered if it was representing my brother's future. But than I felt like it was to see what level of fear I had around blood. Fast Forward and the dream had shifted to a apartment where I was married to a guy. A three yr old whom looked like a child I had seen before was present and I was helping him get his jacket on. He felt like my child though. But as I was doing such, a random person approached trying to touch me. I tried pushing them away till I became aware it was a dream. The dream than shifted and I was on my bed near a wall covered in decorations,writing and colored paper. My five year old self was in a yellow dress asleep next to me facing the ceiling. I than turned to the t.v. and saw a power puff girl show on. The power puff girl was fused wearing a outfit like the crocodile hunter. A voice of a narrorator than shouted " for martyr's dream!" Dream #2 I was on a moving wagon with my dad and another crowd of people. We were holding on tight on the outside of it and trying to get ice cream from a dispenser within the wagon roof. I managed to get out vanilla with chocolate chips in a cup and asked my dad if he wanted it. Knowing he preferred chocolate I was willing to change it but he told me to eat it. I than focused on the street and became semi lucid.There was a string attached to me so I jumped out and let it pull me to the end of it. When I reached it the end was attached to a lady's back.She was tall, tan and average, with black wavy hair in a pony tail. She was wearing a short salmon colored spring dress. I followed her till she met with a group of guy friends near a skate park. A random person tried jumping to touch me again but I made them leave. I than went another way and saw a D.C. who called me over. He showed me through a narrow place and told me to pay attention to what I was about to see.I made a joke when he said that though and his response was "are you really saying that to me?Ha". I said yes than asked him about Eye. He said Eye couldn't appear now though. Afterwards we ended up in place where people were in a line. I didn't know what to make of it other than that the people's personalitys were made apparent through their actions.I left the place and ended up in a mall next, where a guy asked if I knew how to make allesana. I said yes, than he asked if I could join their group since they needed a good cook. The dream than shifted and I was in a nursing facility for old rich people. Still semi lucid it felt like they were dreamers too.I floated through the place looking at a dining room filled with home made sweets prepared by the old woman getting ready for a party. The cookies than reminded me of a cookie I use to eat a long time ago that taste like gingerbread cookie. I had forgotten about its existence. I than flew away and went through the wall. I ended up warping above some gold/pearl stairs though.I continued looking around but I forget what happened next. I just remembered the name of the cookie!I feel like buying them now...>.< They're called windmill cookies.
Updated 10-17-2017 at 05:31 PM by 67570
I’ve just awoken from a night alone sleeping on the sand at a public beach, by a tree line at the far end away from the entrance. There are only a few people in the distance at the other side. It is the first full day of my vacation, and I feel at peace and excited at the open-ended possibilities of what is to come in the weeks that follow. I decide that the water is warm enough for a morning swim, and I scroll through the music in my phone for the perfect soundtrack. I settle on “Black Cat” by Coyote Kisses, and with a freshly cracked beer in hand I walk into the waves.
Realized I was dreaming when I was trying to get into my car and escape a zombie. It wouldn't start so I willed the car to start. "Oh, I must be dreaming. Better not think too much or the dream will end. "
Morning of October 17, 2017. Tuesday. My wife Zsuzsanna and our family as we appear now are living in the Cubitis house. There is a gentle rain. I am aware that our oldest son will be returning from his job (same job as in real life despite the erroneous 1978 setting of Florida rather than here in Australia). I contemplate if one of us should go and get him so that he will not get wet walking back in the rain. Zsuzsanna says that she will when the time comes. I am in the living room with Zsuzsanna. I look out the windows into the Cubitis backyard (it seems to be late morning but still raining) and notice a row of tall purple larkspurs that are close to the windows, under the awnings, and parallel to the entire east side of the house. They are not yet in full bloom. I think about asking Zsuzsanna when she planted them (perhaps very early on the previous morning), as I do not recall when she could have done this, which puzzles me slightly as I consider how wonderfully industrious and sedulous she is. In an area near the center of the large backyard are a few weeds where there is otherwise mostly short grass, but I also see about three or four potato plants in a couple random spots. It is raining, so I will pull out the weeds later. There is a vivid sense of love and peace. Zsuzsanna tells me that our oldest son will probably be off work about an hour early, as people do not usually shop there when it is raining. (This turned out to be prescient curiously enough, and it has not happened in this way before. I fail to see why people would stay home from shopping just because it is raining, but I guess I forgot that some people are “depressed” by rainy weather, whereas I am not.) I have been a devoted dream journalist all my life (and I even married my literal dream girl) and yet have never held any interest or belief in “interpretation”, mainly because my dreams, other than literally prescient threads, naturally decode themselves prior to fully waking, revealing their origins and manner of synthesis, but also because my dreams have held the same basic components and patterns, especially variations of waking symbolism and the same RAS triggers (such as emergent alertness to real environmental noise) since early childhood. Look closely at the threads that are accurate and those that have no basis for accuracy. My personified subconscious (dream self) is aware that I am happily married to Zsuzsanna, yet we are living in a house in America (Florida), where Zsuzsanna (and our children) have never been and I have not been since 1978 when I was only seventeen. (Zsuzsanna and our children have always lived in Australia.) This is not even the house in Wisconsin I was living in years before Zsuzsanna and I first began writing to each other. My dream self is aware that it is raining in real life at our present location (and in fact, this dream began within seconds of falling asleep again) and (again, as in the above paragraph) I am in a different house in my dream, also aware that it is raining, yet without the awareness of where I am in time and space (and how interesting is that?). I am aware that our oldest son has a job and even the exact location of where he works, and yet again, there is no conflict between the impossible contrast of living in Cubitis (an isolated rural area through which only a small highway intersected) and in an urban area in a different country. (My dream self usually does not find the implication of either bilocation or mixed-up composites, which are very common in my dreams, as unusual in any way.) I am aware that there are weeds in our backyard in real life (it has been raining continuously for a few days), yet (again) this is rendered into the backyard of an incorrect setting. Despite the otherwise fictional nature of this scenario, there are a few real-life factors, and even a typical thread of prescience (which I have always experienced on a day-to-day basis, yet do not always go into detail about as my entries are often already very long).
D1 - Rehearsing for a music performance, I am not really looking forward to it. Then I decide I could be a star performer and start getting really into it, I want a costume like everyone else. I get someone in to film and advertise my work Oo. Strange grey hats like a bishop with a white lightning strike mark down middle, worn so I can't see. D2 - Escaping from a castle. I am the king and have an escape route, off a small island (very) surrounded by dark waters. I have to dig a lot to find it and imagine in my minds eye all the soldiers with their long spears and grey green armour, at the castle gates. Eventually I wiggle into an escape passage and shoot down a tunnel to safety. I spend a lot of time hoping some of my men will follow without giving the game away where I am.
I'm in a car with my girlfriend and an African American guy in the Netherlands. I'm driving the car but having big troubles driving it and especially I can't figure out how to switch on the lights.
2017, 10-16 Game of Dreams – Faceoff at the Inn I am riding on a donkey with other people. There are two wagons in our group. Not far up ahead I see an inn. The man in charge, Yarin, says we can afford hot meal and they also have a bath house, so if any of us would like to bathe we can do that, too. The horses and donkeys are taken away to be given food and water, and most everyone else heads into the Inn. A cloaked man stays outside in one of the wagons, and the three chained man stay in the other. The food is quite good. It looks like some kind of pot pie. They’re also baked apples. The ale is pretty good, though it’s not my favorite. I eat while everyone around me is talking and telling stories. One person has a story of a giant wolf that came into a town and stole a baby from its mother‘s arms to eat it. Wolves don’t eat babies! I tell them that. One of them asked me what I know about wolves. I say I know as much as anyone around here. At this point Yarin for some reason grabs my arm. He tells everyone there not to pay any attention to me, I’m just a stupid boy. Yarin takes me out in front of the inn, and he tells me to go make sure that the animals are being cared for. I tell him I’ve had enough of that crowd anyhow. I am walking past the wagons when one of the chained men tries to get my attention. He talks about himself in the third person, referring to himself as a man. He displays that his tankard is empty and says he still thirsty. He wants me to go get him some more ale. The other two with him are rude. One is fat and bald. He doesn’t talk. He does hiss. He has really sharp teeth. The other guy there has no nose. I immediately start thinking of him as Voldemort from Harry Potter. He is yelling at me, he throws his empty tankard at me, but I dodge it. The decent one of them tells me his name is Jaqen H'ghar. He apologizes for the others, “A man does not choose his companions in the dungeons. So a man must apologize for his companions.“ Voldemort tells me to come closer. I have no desire to get any closer to his ugly face. I focus my response on the nice one. I tell Jaqen H'ghar that I will talk to someone about getting him more ale. He responds with, “A man would be grateful.“ I am about to keep going when I see another of our group out there. It is a boy who everyone calls The Bull. He asks what I’m doing? I’m about to answer when I see The Bull staring behind me. When I look behind me, I see that there are gold cloaks coming. Those are the queen’s guards. They must be after Arya. I pull The Bull behind a hedge where we won’t be seen. He seems confused by this. We watch as the leader of the gold cloaks comes up and confronts Yarin. He says they are there to collect one boy. He says they have a warrant issued by the queen. Yarin is not quick to cooperate. He says all of the boys with him are now in the Knight’s Watch. He says whatever we’ve all done in our past is now irrelevant. Yarin says that there are laws about such things. The gold cloak pulls out a sword and declares that it is his law. Yarin says that’s no law, that’s a sword. He’s got one too. He draws his sword. The gold cloak says he has five soldiers with him. Yarin reports that he’s got 30. So the two of them are facing off against each other like a couple of dogs fighting for dominance. It wouldn’t have surprised me to hear them start growling at each other. The gold cloak says that the people Yarin has with him are green boys, not worthy to fight. He says if they’re going to fight, who is first? The goal cloak no doubt expected to be answered with silence, but he gets immediate responses. A couple men sitting outside the inn stand up and announce they will fight. They all have weapons. One guy was just coming out of the bathhouse with his clothes in a bundle in his arms. He drops everything except for his dagger, and announces he will fight. Apparently he intends to fight naked. Even one jerk, we’ve been calling Hot Pie, picks up a large rock and looks like he’s ready to brain someone with it. The strange cloaked figure in the back of the wagon gets out and just stand there and watches. Jaqen H'ghar says, “A man would fight if he was free and had a weapon.” I decide not to hide while everyone else is preparing to fight. So I come out in the open, and I draw my sword which is called Needle. The gold cloak calls all of us little girls, and tells us to put the weapons down. While he’s looking at me, he has given Yarin the perfect opening. The next thing I know he’s got his sword at the gold cloak’s throat. He makes a few threats, makes the guy drop his sword, and then swatted horse on the behind making him run away. The other gold cloaks follow. With the threat passed I look over and see the strange cloaked guy get back in the wagon. Apparently he was only going to act if it was absolutely necessary. Or maybe he’s a chicken wuss. I don’t really know. Yarin is quite annoyed at us all. He says that if we think will make it to the wall without more trouble then we must be idiots. He says he will tell us all this right now. If they come back, and there is fighting, we need to hightail it for the wall and not look back. He is talking mainly to both me and The Bull. I’m wondering why they want to capture The Bull. I ask him what his name is, and he says it’s Gendry. I don’t know why the queen would want him, he’s just a bastard. A blacksmiths bastard. We get ready to move out that same night, we want to put some distance between us and the gold cloaks in case they come back. It is here that I wake up.
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