CanisLucidus
The Guadalupe Airport
by
, 06-08-2014 at 02:19 PM (777 Views)
Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid
Lucid #212: The Guadalupe Airport
I’m in a cafe talking to an art student in his early 20s as he walks out the door. I’m complimenting him on some piece of digital art that I saw in his online portfolio when I realize that I can’t remember his name. I ask and he says, “It’s Bradley,” as we shake hands. I think that this is a student in my 3-year-old son’s class, somehow all grown up.
Bradley leaves and I just stand there, confused about how this much time has passed. After a brief mental struggle, I realize that these facts just don’t fit together and I become lucid.
I spend a few moments looking around at the DCs in the cafe but they all seem fairly generic. I don’t have goals in mind and I’m anxious that I’ll waste the experience, so I head through the first door that I see, winding up in a bathroom. Somebody flushes from one of the stalls. I am not spending a lucid dream listening to people flush toilets, I think, and head back out through the bathroom, back through the cafe, and out into a mall.
I’m feeling less passive now and I try hard to remember what my goals were. Somehow I dredge up that a Task of the Month is to keep repeating whatever a DC says to you. I approach a balding, blonde-haired guy with glasses in his early 40s. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says something about the Windows registry and he’s looking at me like he wants to tell me something.
“Talk to me!” I say.
He happily launches into an explanation of something about computers, but he’s speaking too rapidly for me to follow. I eventually start catching him mid-sentence. “If you have a memory block that…” and I babble back “If you have a memory block that!”
He scowls at the interruption. “You know what? I don’t think you’re actually into this!” And with that, he turns and walks away, looking offended.
I continue on, drifting through the crowd. I spot one guy that’s unusually tall and for some reason get the nasty impulse to mess with him. I kick him in the right shin and he falls forward, stopping just short of hitting the ground. Then he rises back up, looking angry and annoyed. “Sorry, that was stupid,” I say, scurrying away from him. He floats after me for a moment but I make an effort to think about other things as I evade him, flying down an escalator to the first floor.
I move through a relatively empty hallway, worrying for a moment about whether I’ll be able to remember what’s happened in the dream and take a moment to reflect on how cool this is.
Now I’m back in the main thoroughfare with the crowd. I spot two attractive women nearby, both Indian, one in her mid-twenties, the other in her mid-forties. I fly past them and they say something about going to Las Vegas. I want to impress them for some reasonso I boast that I’m having a lucid dream and could travel to Las Vegas instantly. They laugh nervously and sort of edge away.
I say something like, “Here, I’ll show you!” and start flying away, slightly out of control. There’s an open chunk in the ceiling and I pass through it, turning and flailing a bit. Somehow I find myself flying along an airport runway at night. I hear “¡Happy Birthday Guadalupe!” by The Killers playing over what sounds like a clock radio and I worry that a morning alarm is going off. I fly up to a tall column of carved stone in the middle of the runway and reach out to touch it as the dream ends.
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