...from the dark corners of my mind...

DJ Log: July 25, 2011 – 7:00AM (USA Eastern)
Text color legend: • NON-DREAM • NOTES • DREAM • LUCID •

I am walking into a garage with a small workshop area off to the side. There are a couple of covered cars sitting in the garage, as well as many piles of parts. There is a large workbench in the back of the garage with disassembled engines on it. There is a motorcycle frame on a stand near the bench. In the corner of the garage is a doorway which leads into a smaller workshop area with a bench, a toolbox and some power tools on the bench.

I walk into the workshop area and find a guy sitting on a stool at the bench. When I walk in, he looks at me and smiles as he is working on a carburetor. I ask his name, and he replies, “I'm David.” We talk for a bit about his Toyota trike. He explains to me all about how he is changing the V-6 engine out for a supercharged 4-cylinder with much more horsepower. While he is talking, we walk out into the garage area. I read the nameplate on the fender and it says something like Corado, but the letters look different every time I try to read it. The rear half looks like a dune buggy and the front looks like a Harley Davidson.

When I go to sit down on a milk crate in the garage, I feel something uncomfortable in my back pocket. I reach back and pull a remote control out of my pocket. While looking at the remote, something seems a bit off. I look at David and say, “I went to sleep with this remote in my pocket, so this means that this is a dream and I am lucid.”

I am puzzled by why I would have gone to sleep with a remote control in my pocket. Perhaps, in an attempt to produce a satisfactory reason why this would have happened, I was able to identify that I was dreaming.

I immediately become lucid. David looks at me like I am crazy, and then walks back into the workshop area and sits down on a stool. I follow him to the workshop and say, “This is a dream. Do you know what that means?” He looks at me puzzled for a moment, and then says, “Does this mean that you're going to kill me, then rape me?” I reply, “No, silly. We're going to make sweet, sweet love, right here on top of the toolbox.”

We begin kissing, and then fall backward onto the toolbox. The toolbox is not a very comfortable object to lean against, so we roll onto the floor and continue kissing. I grab a handful of his hair and pull him in even closer, and he does the same. We both melt into the floor in a full-on make out session. Without any warning, I wake up.