• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. Plane Sight

      by , 02-22-2025 at 03:09 PM
      Feb 17th

      Plane Sight
      Sky shakes straight above the house. A passenger plane is stuck in space, so low that we can see the face of the pilot pleaing, "Help." Instead we plan to run, fearing the plane will plop onto our roof. Peer outside. Plane has shifted. Still, it's still, nose angled high. Everything will be alright.

      New Stars
      Low north west horizon holds a gift. There shines a new spattering of stars like an elongated lyra. A new constellation. Research its name. Nothing. Look outside again, the constellations are diamonds and strings. Their names shimmer beneath. 'Wood elf' is the new stand of stars. There is nothing more to be learned.



      Feb 18th

      Tygen Beam
      The world is a warped mess of woe. Caught in a roaring undertow of frothing words and slippery time, I flail. Amidst the stale ebb and flow of suffocating same ol same ol, a flash of golden hour grin. Little arms open wide. Ringlets, clutched in a little fist, bounce with every step. He is bald. He is beaming. For a while the tide draws away. We sing. We dance. We play.


      Sun Dog
      A child in the surf, in the sun, on the sand, content with a family that is not mine. A horse of a dog pins me. The creature is massive, fur clotted and matted. Foam slops from its fangs and slaps onto my face. Is this how it ends? It barks. I bark. It woofs. I woof. It arfs. So do I. And just like that a monster is befriended. I sit. Beast stands over my head, about to mount my face? Try to move but am locked in place. A rib cage splits and spreads over my head. Locked in the cavern of an empty dog torso. There is a growing light. It blooms into a tiny sun. "Beware the sundog," I mutter. Break myself away from the hollow being. It bounds one way. I bound the other in search of my fake father and mother.


      19th

      Flicker Man
      "Thought and environment shape our bodies, our hearts, our minds. We are masters of our own wellness or illness," preaches some white haired man. He talks of genes, and twins, and unbelievable things that somehow still make sense. De-aging as he speaks, he flickers from a real man and an animated Bob Belcher.
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