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    Going Lucid, Telling Dead People They're Dead, then Fixing my Crushed Car

    by , 05-30-2013 at 03:31 PM (650 Views)
    05-30-2013 -- [A halfway short but fun one.] Hints of computer gaming, perhaps a little Runescape, and find myself in a cross between the Goodwin's family room and my room at BMs. Having a discussion with some people connected to the game, and notice the decor of the room seems to be BMs sewing room as well as my room, and one of the guys backs into the sewing machine, and it starts to sew up the pants he is wearing, while getting all tangled and mangled. Meanwhile I am sitting there petting a dog? Sheep? It seems to be a cross between a bijon, a greyhound, and a sheep, and I am not sure what it is, but it is friendly, and loves to be petted. BM comes in and says JM loves that thing, whatever it is. He comes wandering through, as well, in a rather curmudgeony mood. As he walks away complaining about things, I realize ... wait a minute. He's dead. He died six or seven years ago, back in ... 2008, was it? I'm dreaming!

    I decide if I am dreaming, I am not going to let him interfere with me, and I am going to have some fun, so I walk up to BM, drop my pants, and tell her to have at it. She says no, rather angrily. I tell her JM is dead, and remind her he has been for years, but she still refuses. In addition, he comes wandering around again. I stare at him, reminding myself he is dead, and trying to make him disappear, but he just won't vanish, even though he is dead, and finally I get angry, and decide if neither of them are going to cooperate with me, I'm going to go elsewhere and have some fun, dang it!

    I walk back to my room and start searching for my shoes, and then pull them on. I'm just about finished with that when BM walks in the room, and I think she is going to lecture me or yell at me or something, so I hide under a table, surrounded by a couple of racks of dresses, but it turns out she came into her sewing room just looking for a needle. I accidentally shift the table around a bit and apologize to her about it, and she's cool with it. Seems as long as I am not trying to do anything with her, she is not upset with me.

    So I walk out of the house, looking for my car. There are probably a couple of dozen cars parked around the house, most of them older models that look quite broken down, and I find I can't really remember what car I am driving now, as I have gone through so many of them, recently. I walk past more and more, some of which I can remember driving in recent dreams, some I can't, but none seem to be currently driveable. I vaguely remember recently driving something in a 40s or 50s roadster with small wheels and a very low profile, from some dream that involved some sort of meeting in the Brookhurst moon park. [No idea if it was a real dream, or just a dream of a dream.] I climb through a sort of cross between a small garage and a sort of storage shed, with more dead, scrapped vehicles, and come out at the next store neighbor's, which seems to be almost a sort of junk yard.

    As I walk up, the neighbors don'k know me, and are sort of unfriendly. Since they don't know me, they tell me I am probably in the wrong place, and want JMs place ... it's "Over there." with a point back where I came from. I explain I am looking for my car, can't find it, know it has got to be around here some place. Kind of a worn old roadster. "Oops," comes the unapologetic reply, and one of the people leads me over to a large car crusher, which he opens up, and pulls out a large cube of metal. They've crushed my beautiful ... well, my running car! I'm devastated for a few seconds until I remember, it is all a dream, and I decide I can fix this!

    They just stare in amazement when I tell them this, but I grab the car's mangled bumper and kind of shake it out like you might shake out a wadded up shirt, and the car snaps back to mostly it's old shape, though it is kind of wrinkled. I smooth out some of the wrinkles while talking soothingly to the car, and it is getting in better and better shape. The tires are really mangled, though, have lost all their rubber, and at the moment are tiny, looking like the damaged castors off an old desk chair. I start gently rocking the car back and forth while continuing to mutter smoothly at it, and it starts to kind of regrow the rubber on the tires.

    The tires are getting fuller and fuller, and even the wheels are getting a little bigger, and soon, instead of looking like chair castors, they are looking more like the wheels from a child's wagon, which are certainly an improvement on where they were. I keep rocking the car, and trying to grow them into something more like what you would see on a 40s or 50s car. Meanwhile, I am kind of stroking the hood, which is a faded, dull black with what seems to be an old, torn decal of Jim Carrey as the Mask, and as I start to gently rub along the hood, both the decal and the paint job are becoming whole and glossy and shiny, then I wake up!

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