lucid

11th

The Hand
A hand gently wraps my sleeping ankle. This is a dream. Find the calm. Let the hand lift and land where it will upon my phantasm flesh. Ghost hand glides over genitalia. Wake.

Locked
Sit up in a stranger's bed. Frantically glance for the ghost hand. It was just a dream. A little lucid dream. Flop back to bed. Sleep paralysis crushes. Find the calm. Through it shines lucidity. Lucid but locked, "Wake."

Too Early
Sit up in my own sleeping realm. Reality check. Not a dream. "I will remember these dreams. I will be lucid soon." Lay. Inhale. Close my eyes. Wisps of light like a spiral galaxy shifts before me. "I'm dreaming." I whisper and open my eyes.

Sit up in bed. "I AM dreaming," Shadows see me smile. Arise. I will fly. Denied. Recall a goal. Denied. Walk through a wall into abandoned night. Look for a tree. None. The scene shivers. It is too early. Sleep is shallow. Must sink deeper.

Drift down into the dark. Cross legs. Close eyes. Attempt to anchor into the scene. Instead, I float. Softly drift in the weightless dark. Hold my position. A thought occurs. Do I drift in dream space? Or am I still and dream space drifts around me? A wash of vertigo. Wake.


It was too early in the night.

either accidently or purposely i don't remember but i looked at my hand and had 1 extra finger but i couldn't move it. it was paralyzed

From the 9th

Gafar

The world is strange. Sentient colors, succulent laughter, sensual scents of food and drink ebb and flow in festive tides. The extravagance is too sweet for souls as bitter as this. Wander away from the fabulous fray.

"You have been challenged to a duel," a twitchy man greets then twists into the crowd. Give chase through worsening worlds and into the belly of a trippy brick beast. Cheerers roar aside. Behind a table I abide.

The other door belches wide. In spills a bloated beast of a man. Recognize his local celebrity face. Gafar. Before any words are laid Gafar waves his arms, thrusts hands my way. An invisible bus slams into me. Fly backward through the doors.

Shock stings stronger than pain. Stand and charge into the belly again. Clarity shines. Know without knowing that this is a dream. Wave my hands. Spin. Thrust palms at Gafar. My invisible strike is soft. His laughs heartily while he force whips me up into ceiling and then down into the floor.

The earth shakes. There is no pain but the sting of shame. Stand. Inhale. Serenity. A river rises into my feet, fills the hollows of my bones. "You will win this... this is your dream." Acknowledge the absolute truth. Lift my hands. The blimp of Gafar bobs into the air, limbs swinging, voice singing with rage.

A grin. A nod. A flick of my hands. Gafar crashes into brick and slops onto the floor. He deflates like a softly stabbed balloon. "This is my dream," I proclaim. The crowd rocks and roars. They boo and hiss. I smile and proclaim again, "This is my dream."

Two men burst from the crowd, "Come on!" I am captured and carries along. "She's coming. You have to hide!"

Pride tempts me to stay. Curiosity bids me go with the flow. The pair lead me back to luxury. Crush ourselves into a closet. Then comes a distant clicking. And then a clacking as her heels rage closer. Curiosity boils, overflows. I must know! Step out and straight into her path.

She is Gafar's sister, all pretention and wrath. "How are your teachers?" she purrs through the wickedest wrench of a grin.

"Fine," is all that can be said. It is the only word left in my head.

Her shark smile spreads. She twists. She clacks violently on her way.

My closet companions, now a trio, cheer the confrontation. I am only caught up in confusion. "This is my dream. What did she mean? What does this mean?" Try to find her again but am lost in the scene.

A canyon-like setting, rocky with little vegetation. I’m seeing events play out in third person. A man called Xeno lives in a house there with his wife, and others live there as well. It seems as if they’re his students or something of the sort. He knows that the area is about to flood and that there aren’t enough people there to do the necessary work to keep the house safe, and so he raises a man from the dead to make a zombie to help. He talks with the man, who doesn’t look visibly dead and seems rather like a sleepwalker. At one point, the man says, “I like unimaginative nightmares.” I’m not sure if there was a context for this or not….

—

I’m standing in a long line outside of a restaurant, waiting to get in. For a long time, the line doesn’t move, and I’m just about ready to leave and go somewhere else, but then it does start moving - and pretty fast at that - and doesn’t stop, so that I’m inside just about as fast as I can walk.

Once inside, somebody I know calls me over to her table, and I sit down across from her. She indicates the table next to us, on the left - nobody is there now, but there are a couple shopping bags on the booth seating. She says that my Aunt O is sitting at that table, and they were talking earlier. She obviously has no idea that this is not something I’d be all that happy about. I wonder - should I warn her about some of the things she’s done to me and said about me to others? That doesn’t seem right, though - like I wouldn’t be giving my friend the chance to make her own first impression.

The dream changes to a view of a line drawing, kind of like a manga page but not really in the right kind of art style, showing a full-body picture of smiling woman. The title of the book was: Love Brings Us Home.


22.1.25

I’m in a school, waiting for a colleague to arrive. He’s supposed to be here subbing for the person I’d usually be working with. I’ve never met him before, and all I know about him is that his name is Rishab.

Through the end-of-school-day crowds, I see a dark-skinned young man wearing what I can tell even from a distance is one of the bright green company t-shirts. I wave at him, trying to get his attention. He sees and comes over to me, and I tell him to follow me to the room where we need to set up.

I realize that we’re going to go right past where my Aunt B is, so I stop to check on her. She’s been here for a while - I couldn’t get her to go lie down. I say something to her, but she just sits there staring and doesn’t answer. I am concerned - so is Rishab, and a couple others who are in the room.

1.2.25


Part of a longer dream. I’m in a school, walking students to the door to meet their parents alongside someone else. Mostly notable in that, at one point, the perspective switches to that other person, so I can briefly see myself from behind. I’m wearing black cotton trousers, a pink tank top, and a black cap - all modeled off of clothing I actually have, although I wouldn’t ordinarily be wearing it to work - and my hair is in a braid down my back. It switches back and stays that way for the rest of the dream, as far as I remember. A student’s mother is already there at the door waiting for her. One of them is called Britney, although I can’t remember now whether it was the mother or the student….

—

I’m in a grocery store, or something that’s supposed to be one. It really seems more like an outdoor market that just happens to be inside, if that makes sense. Various things happen which may or may not have been interesting, but at some point I become aware that I’m dreaming. Possibly before I get into a conversation with a man there, although I think this is one of those cases where the realization didn’t happen all at once.

He was the one who started the conversation with me, I’m pretty sure. A heavyset man, maybe in his 40s or 50s, with dark skin - so black it’s almost bluish. I don’t remember exactly what he was wearing - just an impression of bright colors and complexity.

He expresses concern about me. (This may have had some connection to the dream, but definitely had a foundation in waking life, as I’d probably spent most of the night trying to find a sleeping position that didn’t hurt to lie in. Kind of a long story, but it boils down to a bad reaction to a food additive combining with chronic back issues and developing into neck and shoulder pain. So no, it hasn’t been a good week.) I tell him it’s no big deal. I’m not going to let it get to me, and I know I’ll be feeling a lot better if I can just get out to dance this weekend. He seems skeptical that it could really be that significant, saying something about people just going out now and then for a night dancing to top-40 stuff. I reply that maybe that’s how it is some places, for some people - maybe even the way it is for most people, for all I know - but that’s a totally different world from the one I’m familiar with. And I have no idea what’s even in the top 40 now, and I bet that’s probably true for most people over 30. He laughs, as if to say that, yeah, I’ve got him there.

From there, the conversation turns to the Grammys, and in an oblique dream logic move to award shows in general, which I profess to be meaningless. He agrees overall, but adds that there are exceptions - he mentions actors who fit their roles so well that from that point on, people don’t think about them apart from the role. This strikes the by now definitely lucid me as having some special significance that I ought to make a point of remembering.

At some point we get up from where we’re sitting and part ways. I walk around, just looking at my surroundings, and I soon find myself in a relatively open area, where I spend a couple minutes just messing around, running and jumping higher and longer than a person could do outside of a dream. But then I decide I’d really rather go somewhere else and walk through a wall. Usually I just go straight through them, but this one turns out to have kind of a gooey texture, a little like raw bread dough, and so I have to push my way through.

I find myself in utter darkness on the other side. But I know what to do in a situation like this: just keep on going, and keep my other senses as engaged as possible. I walk. The air is a little cold here, and I feel cold water around my feet, which becomes deeper as I go. I sing the first thing that comes to mind, which happens to be:


Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again.


Lyrics appear out of the darkness - not in space, but in my mind’s eye, which just happens to be indistinguishable from it right now. They appear one line at a time, spelled out in large letters in a vivid orange, and I treat them kind of as a karaoke prompt - although I only realized after waking up that what appeared weren’t the actual lyrics, and by then I could no longer remember anything specific about them. Waking up to a body in pain definitely does not help with dream recall.

Eventually, I can see my surroundings again. I’m now in a corridor with an industrial back area feel to it. No windows - only metal doors in metal walls. I walk along and push open a door that’s already ajar. The room inside has tables set up in a horseshoe shape like an office boardroom, although it looks like some kind of storage room otherwise, and isn’t quite big enough to fit the tables comfortably. A couple people are sitting there. One of them tells me that I’m not allowed in there. Fair enough - I continue down the hallway and try another door.

This one appears to be a classroom - there’s a long whiteboard along one wall with writing and drawings in black marker all over it, although, similar to the other room, it looks more like some kind of storage space that just happens to be set up as a classroom. Students are seated on the floor facing the board, and there are a number of free-standing shelves on the other side of the room, which is much larger than the first one. I notice a drawing on the board showing an octave’s worth of piano keys. Maybe this is some kind of music class - this could be interesting. I ask one of the men who seem to be teachers there if I can sit in on it, and he says yes, so I go in.

I take a closer look at the shelves, as it looks like they’re not quite ready to start the lesson just yet. It occurs to me that it could be a good idea to have something to make notes with, so I make a pencil materialize, but before I can do a notebook as well, the lecture begins, so I go over to where the students are to sit down. I wake up soon after that, though.

6.2.24

Tested a recent suggestion I offered. Reality checked 100 times every day for two days in a row. Managed a tidbit of lucidity but it felt loose. Loose-cidity.

Run
Heat, next to hellish, presses upon us all. We are not much more than sore streams of flesh pushing and pouring past shop laden shores. In its simmering midst I snap. I stand. I scream. All currents come to a halt. How freakishly odd. What the feck. Reality check? I do and discover, "I'm dreaming."
Some primal reflex screams at me, "JUST RUN!" I obey simply to see what will come to be of this spontaneous urge. Too soon I slow down. Too soon I forget. "Wasn't I dreaming?" Reality check. "Yes. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. Don't forget!"
"JUST RUN!" the urge shrieks. I fly on ghost feet through people and walls and worlds. Again my pace slows. Where am I? Don't know. Why am I running? Don't know. Entirely lost, several levels deep, walk back wards to the start. The fog comes crawling. My soul starts cawing shuddersome omens. Slip. Fall. Fade to black.

My school bus took me to my middle school and the memories started flooding (not actual memories from middle school but memories from other dreams) i went inside and i went into a classroom and people were getting these weird gummy/ fruit snack things and they looked really good so i asked where they got them and one kid walked with me to show me where to get them and i see a few teachers that i know in real life and we are suprised to see each other but then i walk into the room where the gummies came from and saw that i had to pay for them so i was like never mind so then i leave and come back to the classroom and i get on the bus and there is this girl i see and lets me read a journal that she had then that was the end


and this is a side note in one of my dreams i don't remember if it was this one or a different one but i was telling myself that if i was in a dream that some peoples heads would be weirdly shaped but i think i noticed peoples heads were weirdly shaped it almost looked like they had some kind of tumor on the back of their neck but anyway i think i got lucid i've been watching videos on how to lucid dream and i guess thats why i told myself that in a dream but knowing it was a dream gave me an eerie feeling

So the dream was like this I was getting ready in the summer time to go to Centre Island in Toronto on my own to go to the theme park there on my own. Mom was helping me get ready and something happened to my shirt so it needed to be fixed so I had to take it off and Dad was calling for help from the kitchen so Mom asked me to go help him and he was mostly naked except for underwear (I was half-naked because of no shirt on)- and I had to help him with the toaster oven and some paper towels. I then got my shirt back on and got my stuff together and I said "I was going out" and Dad realized I was going by myself into Toronto then and offered to come along but after my (real-life) experience with him I said "no" and i got to our front door before the alarm went off for the dream to continue. i was wearing some kind of weird high-heeled sneakers which I wouldn't normally wear.

I hope this dream continues tonight so I can pick up where I left off.


This was a sequel to another dream I had last week and I made a reference to that previous dream in this dream in the talk Dad and I had before I got to the door

I had around 3-4 false awakenings in which me and my dad were sleeping in different rooms. I was going around and searching for demons (who looked humanoid, ape hair, goat-like faces, most people wouldn't think they look goat-like but my mind is what made this so I know they were baphomet-inspired) who easily died, after looking afraid, from me just aggressively running towards them, even though it was playful and I simply wasn't in an aggressive mood or maybe even not trying to intentionally hurt or shoo away those demons. They didn't quite "die" they just disappeared. I think I achieved layers of reality where dreamers shouldn't go, and the demons were afraid of what I could do there.

I attain full ludicity then.

I'm in a room with a picture of the streamer florencio on the wall, he's looking straight at the camera and smiling with his pyramid hat on. I fly out. I realize that going on roads to attain things isn't how lucid dreaming works, so I wisely stop and wait.

There's a dangerous looking man coming and a woman with incredibly pretty light orangeish hair walking with him, I spawn a gun instantly in my hand out of thin air, insane dream control abilities, as he's walking by I'm about to take a shot, as I'm waking up I see a mental image of him taking the shot in the chest (presumably, It's possible this is a fake memory) but at that point the dream's over.

Who is she, tucked in her long and too-thin casket? Sit aside the mourners. Not a souls is known, not even my own, I think.

A jittery man, red jumpsuit wrapped, plays broken keys, spews spoken hymns. Red backs into the bed. It tips. It rocks. The death mask within un-wrinkles with shock. Her brows twitch. Her lips narrow. Is she alive? Dead? Undead?

The assembled are unbothered.

Look back. Sleeper has shifted. She is mother, face convulsing, eyes rolling in REM rage. Stab of fear. Wash of revulsion.

Seek solace from the mourners. They are unmoved.

Breathe through the shock. Call upon cautious disbelief. This can't be real. Fumble through a reality check, "It's a dream. Of course it is. Just a dream. Just a dream."

Look back. Mother contorts into grandmother. Heavily painted eyes rip open. She sits up. Face bitter. We lock eyes. She gives an unloving grin full of secrets, full of sin. My soul prickles with dread.

The crowd are statues. "This is a dream!" I scream.

Look back. Grandmother contorts into Yubaba. We stand suddenly face to face. "Give me a hug," she croaks through wrinkles, rippling wild. Recoil. Then, through the fear comes clambering some calm. I claim, "This is dream." Step toward the arisen. Fall into embrace. Frighteningly, absolute nothing inhabits her hold. Yubaba pulls away. She floats away. Red still croons fragmented tunes. The undead gives gifts to the statues still littered about.

Slip into an icy, analytical space. "This is a dream. The walking dead. The waking dead. Re-awakening?"

Forked tongue splits a grin. Seeds of lies are sewn. Silence is safety. A sister and I Trip backward in time. We stroll our old halls. They are crowded, cold. Suddenly behold that I am birthday bare. I can't seem to care. This must be a dream. Reality Check. Yes! We are dreaming.

No assertations. Instead, simply know and follow the flow of this cliche scene. Sister is frantic to find me attire. Allow her lead. Door to door to door. All locked. Floor to floor to floor. Half-cocked. Each turn sees us ignored.

Suddenly he strides, dream within a dream. His eyes of twilight and his scarecrow grin cast magic across my lucid skin. His coat is offered. I accept. He goes his own way. His lingering scent leaves me wrapped in vulgar yearnings. But I am lucid. I know this trap. He is a sensual distraction. Reality check. Walk away.

Sister wanders off to find some ride. I wait, dance half naked outside the institute of my youth. I'm dreaming. Dreaming. Dreaming. Sister seems long gone. Bid the sun farewell. Pluck it from the sky. Admire its sharp shine in the hollow of my hand. Make a lucid wish. Now, blow out the sun. It lilts slowly away like a mess of milkweed fluff. Fall madly in love with its simple grace.

Catch a luscious scent. Feel a hungry leer. Surge of temptation. I know he is near. "Who are we?" I ask. No answer. I spin. Fall flat on my back. Laughing, I stand, slip off the jacket, "Take it back? I am naked, not afraid." No answer. Toss the jacket onto rocks. Into silken grass I sprawl. Allow whatever will come, to come. I slip... sink... and fall.

I’m walking down a dirt road at night in some rural-looking, semi-wooded place. It’s very dark, maybe lit only by the moonlight. A car is coming down the road, from the direction I’m headed. It stops nearby, and a woman opens the driver’s side door slightly and asks me whether I need a ride. I tell her no, I’m just out for a walk. She drives off, and I keep going.

I’m only going as far as the end of the fence before I turn back - a wooden one on my right - and I’m almost there now. Actually, I’m not surprised the woman stopped, since I’m carrying some pillows with me, and that probably made it seem like I wasn’t just out here because I want to be. Why am I carrying these things anyway? I’ve been doing it for a while this way, and it’s not like I’ve ever done anything with them. Maybe I should just leave them behind next time.

Then it’s as if the scenario repeats itself, but with changes. This was a dream from early in the night: I went to bed a little after midnight, and woke up to record everything around 2. Perhaps because of this, even though the setting seems fully realized, the dream is unusually full of sudden shifts - or else I’m unusually aware of them - and I’m also aware at times of other less imagistic mental content taking place simultaneously, influencing the dream from without. This time, there’s a restaurant by the side of the road that I walk past - one that’s clearly still open, as I can see and hear people out on the terraces. As I turn around, I see a man a little ways behind me. He explains that he just happened to be walking the same way, as if he’s reassuring me that he’s not actually some kind of creeper.

The scene shifts. I’m in a hallway full of closed doorways where moving shadows pass by me on their way from one end to the other. A sense of unease. Major liminal space vibes here.

After what feels like a short time, though, the setting changes again. I’m once again outside on a moonlit night, but this place has a different feel to it. Also, I’m now aware that I’m dreaming, although it isn’t clear what led to this realization. There’s still a sense at times of parallel mental content happening, including awareness of a dream plot being imposed, but there are also some short segments where I seem to be imagining how things play out before they actually do.

I walk. It feels somehow more like reality than like a lucid dream - that's how it strikes me at the time, anyway - and I’m fascinated by how detailed the mist looks - little swirls of it are constantly catching the moonlight, especially over a stream I pass by, where it’s thickest. After what feels like a few minutes, I reach a house - my destination. I knock loudly on the garage door, and there’s another sudden change of scene, to where I’m now inside the garage.

Until now, I’ve been following the “plot”. It just feels as if I should somehow. But the setting here has felt so unaccountably somber. There’s a heaviness to the atmosphere that’s getting to be a little oppressive, and by now it’s starting to bug me a little, so I yell out: “It’s-a me, Mario!” As loud as I can.

“Don’t say that,” a voice says from right next to me. “It makes me heartbroken.” I turn to my left and see a man standing beside me.

“Why?” I ask. His answer didn’t quite make sense to me. “Is your name Mario?” But he doesn’t answer me. He is completely absorbed in pouring himself a glass of amber-colored liquid from a bottle into a glass and then drinking it. I take a closer look at him. He’s a fairly young man, white with short, dark-colored hair and wearing a black leather jacket. I briefly wonder whether I modeled him after a character in a gangster movie or something.

The man is on his second glass when the door leading into the house opens. A woman is there, having heard me. She’s been expecting me and beckons for me to come in. I go, inviting the man to follow along as well.

Another sudden shift of scene. We’re sitting in a room, at a square table. Across from me is the woman: we’re talking about something, although I can’t remember any of the details now. Meanwhile the man, seated on the side to my left, seems oblivious to our conversation. His attention is focused on what looks like a primitive electronic toy of a sort that was around in the ‘90s, and maybe later too, but I really have no idea. It’s pastel blue, and it emits all kinds of little bleeps and blips as he presses buttons. He’s apparently trying to type something out but finding it rather hard going. I hear an awful lot of the two-quick-blips sound (I recognize the interval they make as a descending tritone) that indicates he’s using the backspace key.

And then I wake up.


19.12.24

My dream environment changed to my previous job location. I recognize the shift as it was occurring and gained lucidity from it. I walk around analyzing the carpet and desk. I confirmed to myself that this is the area of the job I had earlier this year. That's when I notice other people sitting down conversing with one another. It looks like your typical board meeting. I eventually saw someone I knew and began talking with her about how I knew this was a dream.

During the conversation I eventually lost lucidity.

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3 nights and only a flash of a fragment about Jamie...

Can't recall the first night. During the day The Jesus voice indicate that Jamie was getting into something that she shouldn't. The biggest hint is that she was looking at things she shouldn't (IYKYK. I've had struggles with that as well... from time to time).

Lucid but no cigar

I was in a building with some people. couches in a corner. I became lucid but the dream started blacking out. I held on somehow. I said I wanted to go to Jamie's dream. I wound up in a psychedelic tunnel space. I kept floating through it trying to find Jamie. One tunnel just led to another of different colors. I went through 3 or so. Then my memory fades. Kinda felt like I was stuck in the Dr. Who title screen if you know what I mean.

What?

A dream where Kurt Cobain was in the black space. He had a guitar and was strumming it. He sang, "A lemonade alright, No Chick-Fil_A sauce." In a sing song voice. He looked pissed off that he was singing it and walked away.

Funny. I really hope that doesn't get stuck in my head again.

Flash

A flash of Jamie naked with some woman...

Um okay. I really wish I would stop dreaming about that.

I had trouble with the Jamie voice this morning. She said she was stupid? I asked what it was about. I had 4 different Jamie voices give me 4 different answers... I was like, "Well, whatever you did. I'm not finding you in dreams lately and right now the continuity of hearing your voice is breaking down. So maybe give it a rest." Literally hasn't been that bad in months. (I'm not all blaming the lack of dreams on her. I have a tough time recalling things sometimes. It's also very hard to dream about the same thing continuously for such a long time. Might be why I keep seeing Jamie as different people, but I can tell who she is by her behavior) Her voice seemed down today, almost guilty or regretful. I did some early prayers already because she asked.

For the past week or so I’ve thought to resume my dream journey but I had not taken any steps forward until last night when I created a new account here on DV and read through an old dream journal. When I woke this morning with the baby around 3-5am and could not fall back to sleep per usual, I recited that old familiar mantra “I will dream and know that I am dreaming.”

I received many fragments. I know one of which I was briefly lucid. I was in what appeared to be an underground subway. I knew I was underground, I knew this was a place where travelers found direction and there was a long hallway before me. It was particularly bright, as if there were light radiating from the walls. The walls were two toned. There were small square inch tiles, clean white on the bottom and iridescent blue on top. As I became lucid I tried to grab hold. I focused in on the details of the tiles. The blue shimmered as if it was alive, subtly dancing. It was a beautiful bright royal blue. I reached to touch and they were uniquely textured, rough like sandpaper but soft like sand. I woke again. Every time I woke I recited the mantra and fell back to sleep.

Other fragments included more dreams about trying to measure my blood pressure in various stressful situations. RL I have struggled with medical anxiety due to several traumas over the past year and it has been the subject of my nightmares for the past few weeks which is one of the reasons I was drawn back here.

Blurry. I dreamt I was at a party of sorts. The party goers were nurses. I made friends with them. I was at a table with several of them. One nurse spoke to me as if I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, confirming a lack of comorbidities and listing all the reasons I had to be grateful. She was kind and reassuring. I was confused. She thought I had cancer. Another nurse indicated to her that I did not. She looked embarrassed. I probably looked frightened. My husband beside me squeezed my hand.

There was a large hill. Someone one was hurt at the bottom of it. I tried to help.

I made more friends. We talked. We shared our vulnerabilities and laughed together. I felt lonely when I woke up.