• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Tiny dream fragments | [11.06.2019]

      by , 06-11-2019 at 01:52 PM (Draeger's Dream Journal and Documentation)
      A bizarre fragment:
      Seemingly, an anime-styled woman asks me something which I don't remember. I also don't remember anything else from this dream.

      Dori, what are you doing?
      I am standing in the living room. The TV is on, but I don't remember what it showed, but I think I see two people, close to each other. Likely an event in a series. Dori, my cat, plays around with an object in the doorway to the living room, which I remember as disc-shaped and Ronja, her sister, is sitting on a towel on the living room table. For some reason, Dori doesn't react to what I want her to do and I am despairing, I think I remember even almost crying.
    2. Southernwood Fever

      by , 06-11-2019 at 04:22 AM (What Will Lisez Today?)
      Last night I drank a tea consisting of equal parts southernwood and lemon balm just before going to bed. (Both of these are entirely legal; I originally got the formula in another ND I had a while back.) My theory was that it would help me with dream recall and becoming lucid. But what I got instead -- oh, boy... Even before going to sleep, I became rather disconnected from reality and began obsessively mind-singing a snippet of some folk song I barely knew called "Jailer bring me the keys." I felt a little too alert to go to sleep, but the alertness was only mental; my body was still quite tired, and I was able to fall asleep very quickly.

      Early night fragment

      I finally got the results of a standardized test I had taken a while back. The test consisted of writing a series of essays analyzing provided passages of text. My results were very mixed, ranging from a total failure on one of the essays to earning the maximum score on another.

      Then something embarrassingly animal happened; I'm disturbed my mind was even able to think of it, so I shall ~snip!~ it.

      At this point, I awoke, likely because I had to go to the bathroom due to the aforementioned tea-drinking. I have no idea what time it was, other than that it was the middle of the night. I tried to WILD upon returning to bed, but something went wrong, and I ended up falling asleep normally, whereupon...

      Pure, Unadulterated, Southernwood-Fueled Insanity

      The first thing I remember was being in a church. It was a fairly large church of indeterminate denomination with brown walls and pews. The pastor got up to speak and began by asking if we had ever heard "the story of Solomon and Midian." Supposedly, Psalm 120 or thereabouts detailed a (nonexistent) encounter between King Solomon and a woman called Midian (actually a region near Sinai); there were more details to the story, but I forget them now.

      After he read out the psalm, the pastor told us to sing some certain hymn, but I was having an inordinate deal of trouble opening the hymnal to the correct spot, so I tried my best to "sing along" without knowing the words until halfway through the fourth and last verse, when I finally got the page open. (My father, who was standing next to me, had no difficulty in this regard.) In particular, there was one spot in the hymn that I couldn't quite hear right, but from the sound of it, it had to go "Hail Lord Jehovah."

      When I opened the book, I saw that it actually went "Hail Mother Luna," and that this was a Wiccan propaganda hymn that asserted that all three persons of God were female. There was also some kind of implication that the female Christ was "superior to" the male Christ, who for some reason still existed as a separate entity in this theological scheme. I thought to myself, "Christ comes from 'christos,' the anointed one -- one! How can there be two if only one is anointed!" I further thought that the pastor was insane for choosing this hymn and that it should be stricken immediately from the hymnal.

      After that was over, the pastor told us to pray the Lord's Prayer. However, he immediately came over to where a group of people, including myself, were standing in the pews and had us form a circle around him, joining hands as we did so. He said "Let us pray" and began to pray something else that I forget. I remember that I distinctly wanted him to stop messing around and actually follow the order of mass and not choose hymns that quite literally violate the First Commandment.

      Then a fight broke out in the church. It was between some generic "anime bad guys" (mind you, I almost never watch anime, so I don't know why I got the impression that they had anything to do with anime) and Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender (another show I've only ever seen a few episodes of). Toph was complaining of her bending abilities being somehow limited or nullified by something the villains were doing, making her unable to see well -- blindness is the one trait I remember her having. As she was fighting, she shouted to herself that she should have trained more.

      I began to think to myself: Why are all these martial arts types always so obsessed with training? Animals don't train, and look at them. Why is so much work necessary to fight well? I then realized that this was because almost nobody has any innate talent for martial arts; everything has to be learned. I tried to think of some alternatives to martial arts that wouldn't require such training, since I found it a tedious waste of time. I eventually settled on throwing a sledgehammer at people -- that would work just as well with no training or with a lifetime of training. The only problem was that it wouldn't come back afterwards. It was better to throw a rubber tire, then -- it would knock over whatever it was thrown at and then bounce back to the thrower. A rubber ball could work too, but it would do less damage.

      The scene shifted over the course of my musings into a large McDonald's Playplace-like plastic tunnel that we had to carry a bowling ball through in order to deliver it safely to its destination. (I was with some other people, but I forget who they were.) The tunnel floor contained a large number of holes just big enough for a bowling ball to fit through, whereupon they would fall just out of reach to a concrete floor several feet below, so we had to be careful not to drop the ball. We advanced past the holes, but the tunnel started becoming tighter and tighter; soon it consisted of two parallel plastic walls with only a foot or so of air space between them, such that I could only move by applying force to the plastic to bend it slightly outward. The end of the tunnel was in sight... but then I went about imagining.

      I began to think of what would happen if the tunnel just started closing in on someone and kept shrinking until it compressed them into a single atom -- with their conscious awareness still intact. How incredibly, traumatically painful must that be! I became a DO and saw such a thing happen to a random person I didn't know. Once they became an Atom (a glowing orange sphere which was clearly not an actual atom), they were ejected from what it turns out had been a machine operated by the anime villains from before and encased in a thin layer of ornate papier-mache in order to keep them from doing anything at present. The Atoms were apparently insanely-powerful "fire beings" that all went totally insane during the painful compression process and destroyed anything in their paths once freed. My viewpoint followed a ring-shaped Atom down a conveyor belt.

      Of course, it was time for me to think again; I wanted to know how to stop the pain of compression from driving me insane if I were ever forced through the same process. I decided that reciting Middle English poetry (yes, really) would be sufficient to distract me from the pain. So I began to quote a garbled mixture of Piers Plowman and The Three Dead Kings:

      "In a somer seson / whan soft was the sonne
      I shoop me into shroudes / as I a shepe were
      Ronke rachis with rerde / thai ronnon aright
      In a side of a salghe / a sete him he soghte
      Fro the none but a napwhile / methoghte it bot noghte"

      Upon finishing, I found myself in a car being driven through the center of my old hometown. I was holding a large black cake-sized marshmallow in the shape of a mortarboard (that cap you get when you graduate High School -- where's my RC!?) I began to eat the marshmallow; I awoke while eating it.

      I notice that I "thought" about things unrelated to the events of the dream far more than I normally do, despite not having the slightest bit of lucidity; in particular, I was able to recall various random facts, such as mostly-correct lines of Middle English poetry, with none of the trouble I experienced with "spero" last time. Since lemon balm is known to boost awareness without making the body any less tired, and since southernwood is rumored to induce strange dreams, the combination seems to have resulted in an absurd dream-narrative that shifted whenever I stopped to think about anything.