• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Don't be crass with the police!

      by , 08-22-2012 at 06:13 PM
      This dream once again occurred this morning, 23 August 2012. It contained some brief moments of lucidity, and was interruped when I woke up around 6 am.

      We begin in a university classroom, which for some reason looks very much like a classroom in a high school or elementary school. I'm sitting in for a social studies class, on the political history of the United States or something, and in contrast to my regular courses I don't find this interesting - I find it VERY interesting. Most of my friends in my program have already left. The teacher continues an explanation. By 11 am (or is it 1 pm?), I'll be beginning my first day in Physics class. My phone rings.

      The person hanging out outside appears to be me, but I can't really identify with this person, so maybe it's my alter-ego. For sanity purposes, I'll refer to this individual in the first person.

      I'm doing an extreme sports stunt on a bike, not a skateboard. The scene shifts toward somewhere else. Suddenly, the police catch us, and we're denied permission to enter my next class.

      I don't want to go with the cops, I think. Yet my phone prompts me to, and I enter the principal's office.

      Somewhere along the line, I'm walking in a hallway on campus in what seems to be a big environment building. I suddenly realize that I'm dreaming, and begin to look around at the walls, the windows, and the students.

      I drift in and out of consciousness, of sleep. The waking-life version of myself seems to be paralyzed, so I drift back into sleep, with much effort. The scene changes.

      I'm in the principal's office, and a thought drifts into my mind. I think of writing these things down, to publish certain things on Twitter when I wake up, with codes B, C, and D. The D code refers to detention, while the B code is something later on in the alphabet. The D code says to the teacher:

      "Am I in detention, or am I free to go?"

      This is something that I picked up from a video showing how to deal with the police. Rule number one is be calm and don't be crass.

      I'm given a list of options, from life in prison to one day free to whatever else. The best option, they say, is Baptism.

      The official looks rather puzzled and pauses for a moment, but after a while says that I'm free to go. I remember the buildings on campus, but I never make it to my physics class.

      At home, it seems that my dad has lesions on his neck, which look like cancerous lips protrouding from the base of the chin. We go to the doctor, and then suddenly I'm in this waiting room.

      I remember a TV commercial about healthcare options. Even though I know trhat I'm lucid, I think it would be wrong to change the scenery while I'm walking through that hallway again. So I walk up to the reporter at the receptionist desk:

      "Hi, I'm looking for healthcare options for my dad".

      The reporter, who seems to be African-Canadian, shakes his head.

      Flashback - in a dark cave dismantling something to the next level.

      The doctor finds that the lesions are cancerous, but traditional chemotherapy would have done more harm than good. A new emerging field in medicine, nutshot oncology, has proven that these lesions are treatable by other methods.

      Have a nice glass of glastnost!

      Jail or Baptism?

      On YouTube, the number of likes are hidden, but it's wavering around 50%. A certain scene is depicted, and the likes rise above the half-point mark when we win, and fall below when we lose. It shifts in a gyroscopic circular manner, like the Moon around the Earth around the Sun, and then the Moon will be flung away, pulling Earth-Moon out of its orbit.

      "But the Moon has been around for four billion years!"

      In high school, I send some people an email with facial icons for each of their respective profiles. For some reason, the guys' images are larger. I tell him not to skip class.

      In social studies class we talk about "nutshot porn". That's gross.

      As I walk outside my residence room in the morning, it's chilly. Yet, for whatever reason, my sweater is wet and damp.

      I wake up early to go swimming.

      by , 08-19-2012 at 08:34 PM
      A fantastically strange dream I had this morning, 19 August 2012. We begin at a Level Two dream, a dream-within-a-dream.

      The time is approximately 4:30 am. I have been unable to sleep all night, and we are all partying in the French room. I feel the beginning of a depressive episode, or more accurately, a disrupted-sleep cycle episode.

      I talk to random people about even more random stuff. This one guy sits in the corner, brown hair and blue eyes, looking positively stoned. I try to talk to him by waving my T-shirt in front of his face. Nothing.

      Finally, I get him to speak. He asks me a bunch of game show-style questions, and says a series of long words, with each one supposed to be longer than the last:

      1. pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
      2. supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
      3. antidisestablishmentarianism

      Clearly, those are in the wrong order. He then asks me some questions about golf. I know nothing about golf - have never played.

      I wave my shirt in front of his face again in the shape of an Ouroboros. Nothing.

      I then sit down at a table with some classmates. A girl is reading this book about careers and life decisions, and a guy she's friends with is talking with us about it. She seems to have the wrong assessment of it, though, by giving a bunch of false analogies about how your decisions are like making a cake or something, about how important it is not to mix certain ingredients together. The basic premise is that once you set off on one path, you can't set off onto another. The guy said that this is not true.

      With her permission, I begin to write down some of what she says in my all-purpose notebook, which becomes a fury of words and doodles. There is more than one path to reach any goal, I think.

      Suddenly, the teacher, who reminds me of my Cantonese French teacher from grade seven, terminates the "Party" in a military-style manner. I pray--I know, that I won't be included in this disciplinary action. I go to the front of the room to dispose a water bottle into a recycling bin, as it has been done since the dawn of time. She yells and says it was the water SHE bought, but dumps it away anyway. I begin to wake up from this second dream.

      An anti-depression group on Facebook sends me a huge message in which the entire group of more than 1,000 people are included. The leader of the group asks me to "get help" for my actions at the party. What?

      It is OK to take a winding path.


      A book lays out four points. Yes, this is the same book that the girl was reading. Point one: STDs are bad.

      "Internships are also bad, and you'll be frustrated with them for the rest of your university career. Just kidding! Teen life after graduation isnt that bad".

      It goes on a bit about the importance of sleep, or rather, why sleep is something to be taken advantage of even when you can get none of it...


      I go to bed at 11 pm, but I continue not sleeping. Was that anti-stigma depression group on Facebook involved to a certain extent? I draw conclusions and make recommendations about a certain university in the vicinity of Cambridge, Ontario, noting five: Waterloo, if not Waterloo then Wilfred Laurier; McMaster, Guelph and Western, maybe Queens...

      I drift off to "sleep", which isn't really sleep at all.

      One inception later...


      It's almost 8 am, and the building I'm in looks like a mix of all the styles of buildings I'd stayed in during my visit to China three years ago. It has the appearance of a hotel, my bedroom to the left and back of a bathroom, the door near the front, my parents' room to my left.

      My mom questions me about that online chat I had with three different guys that appeared on the room in different colours, red, green and blue, or maybe mauve. It's Monday. For some reason, the chat takes place at about the same time as that "Party" in the French room, and it continues until about 4 am, when I "fell asleep" but drifted into that other dimension.

      Suddenly, I'm back in my normal house again, but there has been no discrepancy in surroundings. It's dark outside, despite the time of day. I check the weather forecast: the fourteen-day trend shows today below normal, about 9C (about 48F), and Tuesday is above normal. Wednesday is below normal, and Thursday's temperature is actually unknown after the thunderstorms, but it turns out to be about 12C (54F). Friday...snow?! At first, first glance, the first three days are unknown in temperature.

      LEVEL 0.5 DREAM - TIME FRAME: NONE, NOWHERE, literally "no WHERE"

      I'm tracking my depressive episodes on a spreadsheet, as the yellow lines jot up and down. I think about how my earliest episodes had negative healing energy, and how my late grandmother suffered from it. This time, I had better consult positive healing.

      I'm reading a book, or maybe an Internet page similar to Dream Views, on a guide for lucid dreaming. The page is attached to the main server like a paper clip, like a yellow banana-type paper clip!

      The columnist's name is Heather, or maybe Courtney, or maybe Stephanie. She comments on a method, and asks, "will your gin/ be like that"? I think that's a typographical error on my part, sorry, cheri-o.

      Back to the method granted during the 1.5 dream level: does that mean they're saying you should avoid STDs as much as possible, and reach for your career goals as much as possible? In other words, are they telling you to be a virgin, and stay a virgin?

      Which university should I pick?

      Of course, I am advised, to take home foods, and not drugs! Consult my spiritual 'minister' instead, who is along for the journey this wjole time. I pray--I know--that your dream will awaken.

      Before the military-style party-coup takes me away for the excecution, I announce to a TV-style audience interview that I discovered THIS part of the brain, as I point to the area above my ear, whisking my hands in a scalpel-like motion, the temporal lobe...

      The manifestation of spiritual ecstasy...

      We must always question reality, even when it seems we are not dreaming, in order to lucid dream. I try to do a reality check, but I am actually aware that I am NOT dreaming...

      I awaken for real this time. It's 4:30 am, and I have a cold, which is not apparent in my dream.

      Moribund. I see Orion rising in the east. It it a winter constellation. Soon it will be back to slow yet. There are two very bright "stars" in the sky, one atop Orion over eastern Taurus at about magnitude -1, which is Jupiter. The other is barely visible behind some tree, near Gemini, about magnitude -4, quite obviously Venus.

      A'ho Calalami - a sacred chant (an even more sacred ritual by sacred beings on this sacred Earth). The ramble, the ramble, the ramble. Timetable of an elongated executive quasi-quarter century.

      PART II

      I think, in fact, that there is no recollection between my first falling asleep and my first memory of being in my dark bedroom. Maybe this is actually a WILD experience.

      I check the time, and it appears to be consistent. Around 5 am. Yet, I look at it again, and it flashes all over the place, and I realize I don't need to do my second check, of reading what I had just written.

      I am in a dark room. The mirrors scare me greatly, yet I look into them with interest. I realize that it is a dream and I begin to be lucid, and I walking into the mirror, apparently stuck there for just a moment, entangled, before I emerge into another universe...


      I walk out into the living room, trying to smash through the front windows. It stops me, yet darkness has turned to daylight, about 7:30 pm, near sunset. I walk into a mirror again, when it was dark, and I return to my bed, I return to the mirror...

      I walk toward the front door, opening it. I see the reflection of a woman in the mirror, who looks like my mom's face merged into somebody else's. She apparently beckons me not to go outside, but I do so anyway, and walk out onto the street.

      The theme of today's mission is nutshot.

      I walk into my street, turning left, but 100 metres in, I stop. I decide that my mom was right after all, and I turn back. When I check the mirror again, there is no more reflection. The mirror no longer scares me. I am no longer afraid. I walk to my bedroom.

      The sun has almost set now.


      Without any discrepancy, not even for a moment, I fall into another dream, perhaps through sleep, and awaken as I climb down a set of stairs. It does not scare me, as huge stairs did in the past.

      I'm walking down into the depression group's cavern. There are literally hundreds--maybe thousands--of people here, each one applauding as I walk down. It resembles a set of circular stairs more than it does a Maya temple, but it is easily 500 metres en plus from top to bottom.

      A frail-looking elderly woman in a wheelchair is pulled up as I step aside to let her pass. I walk to the right, and to my left stand thousands of people, each with a different face, applauding, just applauding.

      Finally, I reach the bottom. The lights are on and it looks like one of my friends' basements, only MUCH larger, but just as low-hanging with the ceiling. I ask one person as soldiers stand by. "Why", I ask, are there more people down there?

      "They're probably just reproducing. Ha, I'm kiddding. Say, Junior, know any grade 12s who can handle a rifle?"

      This is a real program. In room 1, I find strangers talking.

      I then step into Room 2. Here are four people I recognize sitting on a sofa, along with more people I recognize sitting all around. This includes one guy who said I'd helped save him from a life of suicide.

      I ask them where I might find the bathroom. I was also going to ask me whether they saw my crazy moves at that party in the French room, because at least one of them was here, but I didn't have the time, I needed to pee. They all point me to the girl's bathroom.

      "What! Dude, that's the female bathroom!"

      They all laugh.

      You idiot. You know if you pee in a dream, you'll wake up and actually have to pee in waking life. Have you lost your mind, or more accurately, your lucidity?

      I then walk into room 1 again, speaking in an Indian accent, "do yoo know vherre dee bathroom is?"

      Some guys are sitting there talking, "he didn't have a rifle". I shrug and then smirk incredulously. Where they looking for me?

      I wake up. It is around 6:40 am, and I go to the bathroom. The golden sunlight pours in but I manage to drift back to sleep.

      PART III

      I'm in a backyard garden of some sort. Somebody's kid might get charged for violence, because the school's charter expressedly prohibits violence against another student's "dick", "nuts" or "ballsack".

      I read a hithertofore-yet-unknown chapter of the Bible. It's called Hittites, and near the end, a voice that seems to be God asks a man to renounce everything he's known to date about religion. It has an Egyptian air to it. With much haste and hesitation, he does. "Let ye forget all you have learned, and seek God's salvation from here anew. Replace all your man's word with my word. A new pearl will appear in your forehead".

      The Bible I'm reading has excluded a certain chapter beginnign with the letter L. It's certainly not Luciferians.

      It then goes onto the New Testament. I begin to close the book.

      Should I go to church today?

      Now, I'm on a boat of some sort, without any discrepancy. The founder of a project, who is female, talks about the benefits of getting dolphins and humans to play together in this lake. First, she says, the dolphin feeding will attract phytoplankton, causing a bloom. This will then stretch out, and bring gold nanoparticles to the surface, as well as lower global carbon dioxide levels, in a method not yet unexplained. I thought they'd tried iron fertilization for algae blooms and that failed to lower carbon in the atmosphere by any significant amount?

      This is the same method, she continued, of bringing gold to the face using algae, and creating a gold mask and a gold leaf that one will now wear on the face.

      When I wake up again, it is 8:20 am.
    3. A long day in Texas

      by , 08-18-2012 at 03:03 PM
      A dream I had this morning (18 August 2012) - much vivid detail.

      I was finally on TV. Not sure how it happened, but it was a 6:00 - 6:30 pm segment for children, in which I appeared in the same manner as in a YouTube video discussing the longest words in several languages.

      If you message me, I'll send you the link - unless I actually become too famous and you'll know right away.

      My Facebook friend, initials DL, was on the program as well. Later, I remember talking to him on Facebook about how he saw me on the program, too!

      Cut. Something about a beer store.

      How did they get my video, anyway? This other kid was one year younger than me, but this appeared to be some kind of educational program, as the credits rolled in, displaying our names, and that of one other teletubby-like creature.

      It gave out the following messages...


      This was strange for several reasons. First, they spelled out a nonexistent word: udd. Perhaps they meant "odd"? They couldn't have meant the same word for both of us, considering D and L are on opposite sides of the keyboard, I thought.

      Wait a minute. Does this mean they wanted me to die young?

      Or perhaps, die young as late as possible?

      I bent down and ate my soup. I thought about that valedictorian speech that I had long prepared, but never got to speak in front of an audience.

      Sometime later, I go to bed. The same teletubby-like creatures that hosted the show were now anthropomorphic talking animals that sat on the right of a ledge and bookshelf in the corner of my room. They were discussing a most unusual subject as I proceded to sleep.

      They were talking about what happens when somebody's testicles get twisted and "suffocate".

      "So, a new female is created?!"

      Somewhere in the voices was a hint of judgement and contempt. I thought that if I discussed a so-called 'nutshot fetish' I had with the producers of the show, they'd be upset. They were part of Family Studios, which was a spin-off affiliate program of a North American charity very similar to Focus on the Family. Both programs were very pro-life, conservative, and anti-LGBT rights.

      As I was thinking about, or perhaps actually did, write about my experience on a somewhat-gay Facebook forum, the transwoman wrote back something neither demeaning nor incredibly strange. However, my instant thought or response was, "you broke me", an attribute that I couldn't have thought possible for a transsexual person, whoever he/she was.

      Later, I was watching the news, or maybe being part of it. A huge storm had stirred up sand storms and haboobs in Texas, A facade of a cattle ranch being "roughed up" appeared. On the news, they said the ex-storm (or ex-low, or something like ex-nor-easter) had made its way to Japan.

      This had never happened before, but this year, this was the third time. I thought, how could a storm track that way, if it was moving the "opposite" to a regular storm?

      Most storms would track from Japan eastward toward Oregon, then sink south toward Texas. If this storm was heading the other way, it must be over the Arctic.

      Perhaps it was 2012. Or maybe the physical year didn't exist, as the dream state was on a floating timeline.

      The news then reported that, after recently 100 young boys had suddenly gone missing in Texas, most of them were found alive. The families, and the communities, were praying for the safe return of the rest.

      The next segment featured a part about the abortion controversy. It showed a woman with brown tape over her stomach area, the commentor saying, "the crosses heal the wounds of young women who were photographed having an abortion in the woods".

      Previously, there was a case where a pro-life activist photographed the aborted fetus of a woman who had aborted her child secretly in the woods. This time, women all over the country who were not pregnant were wearing this brown tape. Any time a photographer passed over, they were instructed to openly state they were not pregnant, and question what the hell the photographer was doing there.

      And they did. The photographers were apprehended by police and security, and taken away.

      As both a Liberal Christian and a Christian Liberal who was often pro-life but in major cases also pro-choice, I was torn about this segment. First, I thought, "were these crosses false prophets"?

      My mind then wandered over to a kitchen when I was five years old, but that was a facade again. I thought about pro-life protesters in the streets, and what was to become of them.

      I remembered a certain video on Godvine about how anti-abortion protesters convinced a mother not to abort her baby. Would these now be a thing of the past? Would pro-choice people now try to convince teen pregnancies to abort rather than say, seek adoption?

      I asked somebody, "would there still be anti-abortion protests? Or are those protected indefinitely under the constitution?"

      On the pro-choice side, why were these photographers mobilizing in the first place? Perhaps they were agents of a new Romney-Ryan administration that opposed planned parenthood?

      I personally supported the rights of the women who were violated. What about people who needed an abortion to save the life of the mother and then were violated as they were filmed, filed and reported?

      Browsing through my Twitter, I saw that Pastor Terry Jones was following me. I doubted whether I should follow back, as this was apparently the pastor who had led the Qu'ran burning controversy at the Dove World Outreach Center in Florida.

      I wake up at 4:43 am. Proceding to write these down now, and after another half hour I fall asleep again.

      I remember nothing about what happened.

      Sleeping again from about 8:15 - 9:15 am.

      Only remember the ending this time. George Shrinks was on a mission somewhere, and saved a girl on the sub-11th floor of a basement. Flying in his Zoopercar, he stages a show.

      His mom is holding a secret egg. However, she wears it on a fake turban-like mummified head gear, which George then unravels and pulls out the egg.

      The contents turn out to be a prize. Apparently, a group was awarding us more than $8.26 million for defending gay rights.

    4. Failed Lucid Experiment

      by , 08-13-2012 at 11:07 PM
      This is again a daily entry of what I dreamt this morning, 13 August 2012.

      Somehow, somewhere, Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead was very real. I sat observing the scene unfolding around me. I fully expected Howard Roark, the renegade architect, to rape Dominique Francon. It was expected. Really, it was just that.

      I awaken sometime around 8:10 am. Falling back asleep for a brief period of only about 30 minutes.

      A former friend of mine was angry with me for some reason. It seemed that he didn't want me talking about his ex-girlfriend.

      I discover this apartment building on a quiet busy intersection, somehow reminiscent of basketball and laundry. I'm at the basement of what looks like my house, trying to connect to the Internet, and it was late morning.

      Now I'm in my geography class again, expected to complete about three assignments, and after asking around apparently one of them was due yesterday. Gasp! The latest one, somehow, is due July 19th, which is apparently in the future.

      I sit down to talk to this girl, who seemed to enjoy talking to me all year, and we were discussing something other than all these overburdening assignments.

      Suddenly, something makes me realize this is all a dream. People around me continue to walk about, producing a strange and loud din.

      I try to close my eyes and change the scenery. It doesn't work, as the talking is too loud. So I close my eyes even harder shut, and plug my ears in attempt to drown out all awareness of the surroundings.

      Immediately, I'm rushed into this big portal, finding it hard to open my eyes again, not because it's too bright out here or anything. I "see", or visualize, swarms of a tunnel or whirlpool escorting me at a sudden speed.

      What I see next disappoints me. I have awoken in my room, and it's morning.

      Something is a bit strange here. The blinds are fully closed, but golden sunlight is pouring into the room, as though it's about 7 am or earlier. A plaque on my wall is directly ahead of me, instead of slightly to the right.

      A book appears in my hand, and I'm turned to one of the first few pages, around page six, or maybe nine. It quotes page 1212 of the Qu'ran, possibly suras 7-12, emphasizing 8-9. It talks about relationships, but the large block of text near the bottom of the page on the right is rather condensed and uncited. It's highly reminiscent of something. I decide to record all this down before I forget.

      I rush to the cupboard and shelf, eager to write things down on paper in my physical dream journal, under August 13. I know what date it is. Suddenly...

      I wake up. My lucid dream had partially succeeded, only I had forgotten to do any reality checks and thus was fooled into thinking a dream was waking life. I rise to go to the bathroom, go to sleep without remembering much of a dream, and then wake up around 11 am, after which I go back to sleep, have a 10 minute dream, and then awaken again to begin my day.
    5. 2012: from Udora to Israel

      by , 08-11-2012 at 03:19 AM
      I haven't updated my journal in a while. The following dream happened this morning on the 10th August.

      It was early in the day, and as it turns out, a French citizen who Patrick Geryl, a 2012 survivalist partnered up with, was going off to Israel.

      Friday morning. I'm browsing through the Barometer Bob show. It turns out that the host was ill the previous night, and so one viewer comments on the Stormchat group on Facebook, "I wasn't planning on this".

      Well, I'm back at my high school now. Apparently this was a school day in the middle of summer, and I'm talking to this girl about something I saw on twitter the other day.

      "Say, did you hear about that article?"

      "What article?" she says, apparently full of interest.

      "That one about the fact that apparently, psychiatrists will suspect that you're a psychopath if you don't have a Facebook account!"

      "Really? That's pretty funny!"

      Now, I don't know what it was about this particular conversation. Maybe it's the fact that I never talked to her much, or that she was originally planning on majoring in psychology, or even the school she's going to. But something about the talk makes me wonder whether she really liked me. Whatever it was, she looked awfully beautiful that morning.


      Somewhere around this time there's a discovery made of a large vertebrate fossil near Udora, Ontario, about 30 km NE or ENE of a town called Newmarket. We find the specimen neatly preserved in igneous rock.

      This doesn't make any sense. Much of Southern Ontario was covered by seawater during the Ordovician, meaning that nearly all the rock would be limestone, not volcanic. And there weren't a lot of vertebrates to speak of.

      I'm compelled to write a fairly comprehensive Wikipedia article, and it turns out to be quite long as well.

      Back in Israel, I'm visiting a special agency website. As it turns out, it's offering a journalism job to "entrepreneurial Facebook users", whatever that meant.

      Somehow, I'm back at my high school again, attending a graduation convocation for band students in the music room who will be leaving for the year. Someone gives out between three and ten tips for future students, and they're quite worth paying attention to.
    6. As volcanoes erupt above, massacre rages below

      by , 06-17-2012 at 03:01 PM
      This morning's dream was quite detailed, and although part of the dream after the first one has been blocked out, many scenes still remain intact. A few scenes become slightly graphic

      There was a man lying on the ground. The room was dark, with scenes of red curtains, and possibly tables and gold-framed portraits strewn throughout. Suddenly, another man walks in and starts shooting pistol rounds at him. I counted about 20 rounds, or more than 100 shots fired. The pretext for this terrible scene, I do not remember.

      Time to report this massacre to someone close-by. Number of killed: 1. Could that really aptly describe the horror to the full extent?

      West Java, Indonesia

      Somewhere, a strong earthquake jolted the region, affecting a rural area outside the city of Jakarta. There was a volcanic eruption that turned the sky red around the world. Somewhere, possibly in Japan, another volcanic eruption changed the character of the sky.

      One tribe in Java offended another. For some reason, a war began, and tanks started rolling into the fields. Many were killed, and women and children were seen hiding in their tents, as bombs exploded around them. The facade said this was Kota Kinabalu. But that's in Malaysia, on the island of Borneo.

      What did they even fight over?

      Soon, a ceasefire was declared, as the tribes came to terms with the conflict. Nobody made a move for days, then days turned into weeks, and weeks months. A pile of dust still lay unforbidden.

      China, 1989

      There was some Western company being sent in, a camera attached to the back of a fruit fly, to send into the nasal passages of a person. Inside, there were a series of rooms, four floors, and a conference meeting in one. Not much going on anywhere, but suddenly a stampede of people rushed toward the pool. A British filmmaker joined me. The crazy woman, as she was called, Caucasian and dark brown hair, swam all the way to the opposite shore at an impossible speed, and took a basket, filling it quickly with water. It formed a Canada goose shape, which then rose on top the water in the form of a bubble, which burst, and people laughed.

      I highly recommend this book, I wrote. It brings an air of humanity fo 1980's and 90's Asia, including the events in Indonesia and Tiananmen Square, even to the police and soldiers who instigated the massacre in various places.

      I woke up for the second time now, this time about 40 minutes before I had set my alarm to ring. Perhaps this was because I had a lot of work.
    7. Objective tourism

      by , 06-16-2012 at 03:48 PM
      This dream occurred just this morning. I'll only remember certain parts of it, and as for the other past dreams, I will post some of those shortly too.

      We were on a trip to another school. Walking into the hallways, I thought about, or perhaps discussed, how science accepts some concepts while ignoring others. If religion wants to ignore gravity, thought someone, wouldn't that make their belief still true because they have faith?

      Actually, I thought. We only perceive something as real if it is separate from the rest. What about the theory of changing gravitational constant over eons - also similar to the Variable Speed of Light Hypothesis - why does science ignore that? Why is evolution accepted but not the evolution of gravity? What about the reports of spiritual experiences? What was objective and what was qualia?

      There was some kind of Super-ego theory, too.

      Somewhere hours later, there was a thunderstorm. I woke up in my old bedroom, talking with my "biological mother", who supposedly was different from my mom in real life. It was 12:23 pm, time to get up.

      We went on another tour of a school, sometime later in the day at 7:50 am, as the buses were leaving early. We walked inside with a bunch of high school students, me reflecting on the "dreams" I'd just had, writing them down in my all-purpose notebook.

      A female friend of mine gave me a piece of cake on a plate. I tried cutting it a few times, but it was silicone, and seemed to disappear a little each time I cut it. I promised to get the cake repaired, but said, "this would be appetizing if it weren't silicone".

      I woke up. It was 8:41 am. The previous day, I'd indeed talked to this female friend about shellac, and how it was secreted from the female lac bug, even in candy.
    8. The Vision of a Student

      by , 06-12-2012 at 03:26 AM
      This dream occurred to me this morning. As you can tell, my mind is consumed with university-related themes right now. I will post the remaining journals from February to June sometime later.

      Here I was, at the University of Waterloo's Student Life 101. In a group of a few students, many of whom I didn't know, we walked inside this building and took some pamphlets.

      The room was somewhat cozy and old-fashioned - perhaps it was the residence building on campus? We packed our stuff and headed down the hallways, me remembering my toiletries. By the Sun angle and time of day, I was walking east.

      As I entered the bathroom, I was reading the pamphlet, describing a student's experience at the university.

      A female student wrote inside: "I enjoy fam sessions and walkout sessions".

      Instantly, I was taken in my mind to a scene where the pine trees stand tall in Saskatchewan, yet the grassy fields were all over. A thought popped into my head: "the difference between boys and men when they have a problem, is that boys ignore it, and men ask what they can do to fix it".

      Perhaps it wasn't that concise. Either way, I thought: Replace the F with a J and then we're talking. *Revolution!*

      There was much anticipation on either end, and some towels were possibly in the room. I woke up to the sound of my alarm, and went to check the website to find info on an English Proficiency Exam, including bloopers.
    9. An unforgotten earthquake in time

      by , 06-09-2012 at 03:55 PM
      It's been four months since I last posted. Everything's been busy lately but this morning's dream (June 9) was vivid enough that it pushed me to post now.

      Usually when I have a dream, I'd write it down and hopefully remember enough details to post when the time comes. Much has changed over the last few months. Often the dream would reflect something that goes on in real life, either before or after the dream takes place.

      I still have recollections of 1/3 of my dreams, but about 2/3 are just paper notes now and I have no recall of them. Yet I'll be posting as much as I can, and hopefully in a few weeks the flashbacks to past dreams will join up with current dreams again.

      Before we continue, I should explain what I mean in my use of the word "facade": basically, it's a word, another memory or previous dream, or a false recollection that triggers faint memories of the actual dream as they slip away. Sometimes the memories fade within 10 seconds of waking up.

      You have to be careful sometimes - often the blog will log you out while you're trying to do a journal, and even today I had to change my password, after a Russian hacking incident months ago here.

      It's a real challenge to get this thing started. Let's begin at this morning's dream, when I fell asleep on my sofa around 12:30 am.

      I'm in a room somewhere. There are these orange vitamin B-12 pills in my hand, and it looks like there are several dozen of them. Should I put these in my mouth, or moreover report just what happened?

      A tropical weather website comes up, dicussing a low pressure system that was bound to give us a big heat wave in the early part. Not much else was going on, except for that jet stream.

      I'm sitting somewhere with an old student-teacher friend of mine, who talked about her memory of living in northeastern Ontario, where there are now some wildfires. Not sure if I ever join in on this conversation.

      Hearing some words being said now, remembering a few.

      "So when I was up at Algoma University, the weather would really stay pretty much the same. One day, it would be 7C. The next day, 7C and the same the day after that."

      "It would take 35 minutes to drive up to Timmins, and 65 minutes when there was a big snowstorm and the traffic got heavy".

      Wait a minute, I thought, looking over at a map. Wouldn't that mean North Bay takes only 25 or 30 minutes? I live in the Greater Toronto Area at this time.

      Funny thing is, my friend never even went to Algoma. She went to U of T.

      Now, I'm remembering something about a conversation I had with the principal, or maybe I was having one. I wasn't in trouble or anything; in fact my principal thinks of me as someone who is more mature and responsible than most.

      There's a lot I didn't get to say to her, though.

      I wake up with this strange pain in my left leg. Had I been bitten by a spider while I took my midnight nap? It seemed like I'd been asleep for maybe one or two hours, but as I look at my radio clock, it's 3:50 a.m. Without even going to brush my teeth, I return to my room, turn off my computer, and go to sleep. I consider taking my chemical experiment into my room before it gets stolen, but leave it there and doze off anyway.

      There were these "fake vegetable" pills in a jar, that had both the shape and the taste of real vegetables: carrots, peppers and broccoli, at least two of the above three. Should I eat them?

      I was asked whether I wanted an ionizing treatment, producing an isotope on my body that might have been radioactive. The isotope had an atomic mass of 188.

      Of course that's going to be radioactive, I thought, when I woke up much later. Yet doing a bit of research, it turns out the element is probably non-radioactive osmium-188, which is naturally more dense than lead, and maybe a few traces of radioactive iridium-188.

      Sitting there, I'm looking at a screen off the wall of my classroom, where my geography teacher was giving a lesson using a weather website that I routinely used. Next, we pointed out a small earthquake that had occurred a few days before off the northwestern coast of Ireland.

      "Belfast!", I exclaimed, literally shouting it out loud. Yet Belfast was in North(east)ern Ireland, and whether I knew this at the time, I'm not sure.

      The alarm woke me up again. It was just after 6 a.m., but I'd forgotten to turn off the alarm the previous night. I might wake up once more during the next bit, but whether this is recorded is unclear. Still have some assignments overdue for my geography teacher. The next part becomes rather academic.

      I'm swimming in a lake somewhere, and the water is very tolerable. Whether it's more like a pond or there's a castle in the distance, I do not know, but I keep thinking it's Elsinore, the Danish city on the extreme eastern big island where the Shakespearean play Hamlet is set.

      Some time is needed to practice my recipe. I had made bread before, but this was something quite different.

      I have to finish another assignment, I think for the same geography teacher, involving a sled or a toboggan, that would be tested on the snow. Yet the snow had all but melted, and the assignment was overdue. How was I to finish it, then?

      It's morning, and I'm on a trail with some of my friends. We'd all be university-bound next year, and to my left we see this grassy knoll that has a barn-like house positioned on top. A horse-drawn carriage was nearby, and I get the feeling that I'd seen this place before, but cannot remember where. Maybe I had been there. From where the Sun was positioned, we were walking southwest. There were some people on or near the carriage in costumes, the woman wearing some kind of shroud over her head, the whole family looking agrarian and traditional.

      "Mennonites", I said.

      "Yes", one of my friends continued, but...

      But what? We continued walking. Over to our right, we come across this forested ravine, that has a steep drop-off soil cliff face with some tree roots. One of us, I or a friend, tries to climb down, but seeing it was so steep and there were granitic rocks underneath, we give up. We continue walking.

      We were on a university campus now. I didn't know they had these types of trails here; maybe we don't.

      I had debated whether or not to include the names of specific towns or universities I dreamt about. After much thought, I'm deciding to mention these places by name, and will do so in most cases for journals of past dreams.

      On our right, it was the University of Guelph campus. There were still some tree branches as we approached the clearning. But I knew that none of us would be going here this year in September.

      Johnston Hall.

      Some say it's the most well-known landmark. Yet the rock climb had been difficult, and sometime later or earlier, I'm doing an exam for one of my classes.

      It's my philosophy teacher, and this time I'm struggling to do well in this second-semester class I'm taking. I had gotten 95% in the first class, but was struggling to maintain 83% in this one. Whatever it was, I knew I needed to do well on the exam.

      The room was beige, the desks far apart, the lighting dim yet incandescent. It somehow reminded me of my old elementary school. What in the world was I doing here?

      I wake up this time, and it's past 10 am. Time to get up; it was a weekend morning.

      OK, I know I haven't posted in ages. Yet some powerful recollections have been contained in the past dreams, and many of them go back to February. When I only have figments of dreams, then maybe I'll post as many as five in one entry, which gives overall a clearer picture of whatever that may be.

      The memories may be hazy, but the dreams provide a glimpse.
    10. Budget chaos & Mania

      by , 02-03-2012 at 09:40 PM
      In this dream, I took note of what I remember each time I woke up. Thus it is far more detailed than most other dreams, even though the memories faded pretty quickly.

      Watching a video, or maybe being part of one, on Youtube. This Asian girl with long hair was talking about "How not to get kicked in the balls", or rather WHY. However, at the 4 min 26 second mark, she says "how not to get kicked in the budget".

      My old bedroom, chart paper at the side, window at the back, cupboard at the right. I see a white poodle trying to get into the video scene. It gets stopped every time, getting mad, but I grab it, apparently unafraid.

      The dog tries to enter the scene from a pile of paper, first from the side, and then diagonally. Unsuccessful after the third or fourth time, it runs out the door. Somehow, this dog rather resembles a human character.

      In fact, this Dog, or whatever it was, was to be charged with a repeated drunk driving offense. Later, it runs, or rides, up a sheet of white furled paper.

      There's an announcement from the blue. Somebody has a love problem. No idea where those details went, but now, they're gone.

      A random part of my journal: "consp. causes". No idea what it indicates.

      Flashback: March 16, 2009. Security camera video shows terrorists plotting to bomb a concrete pillar, somewhere in southwestern central Ontario. Maybe it was near Alliston, we'll never know.

      I'm sitting at the site of a swing, or some-other place. This sandfly, part wasp, part fly, tries to fly into my nose. I ward it off, but at the last minute, it stings me, there is a feeling of spray being injected into me...

      I wake up, and go on Dream Views.com. Writing about my dreams, my thoughts are rather clear, the transitions vivid, the meaning intact. Yet soon I realize this is not to be.

      Waking up for real this time, it's about 3:45 am. Take some notes, go right back to sleep.

      I'm in a music room. Some girl takes my flute, initials AR, and throws it toward the percussion area. It's broken, and I say "FUCK". This flute cost $70, or maybe $430. I'm afraid to tell my dad, because he bought it for me.

      Sometime later down the line, there's an engine. Perhaps I'm examining how it works - I don't know.

      I'm reading this book about the physics of weather, a possible flashback to my poorly-done presentation about the physics of artificial trees that absorb carbon dioxide. As usual, the book goes into a computer model simulation.

      This time, there's talk about global warming not being real. Of course, I strongly disagree with that position. I see Greenland melting, refreezing, melting, refreezing again, rising and sinking above and below the waves. There are vivid colours here: sky blue, navy blue, orange, red, green, tan, yellow-green, yellow with a tinge of green, and brown. Near the Gulf Stream area, enveloping both Greenland and Iceland, a supervolcano destroys the land there in a big oval fashion. Iceland is first to melt, its people unaware, or possibly no people there at all. It's a Supervolcano, much like the Siberian Traps during the Permian-Triassic extinction era.

      I wake up. It's 6:45.

      There's a vivid drawing of some sort, the details now gone. Examining currency, bills, coins and American $1 bills. They're everywhere.

      At my house, time is frozen, and my mom is here. Suddenly, somebody knocks on the door, and gives her two white pills that smell very industrial. She takes them, and weird effects happen. We try to lower the dose, so that days two to five will require one pill a day only. No idea what it's for. She bikes outside, and I see some guy skateboarding outside my window, and they go down the street and it's a sunny day.

      Talking to my teacher now about French. Apparently one of the old teachers came back, and nothing happens. Or rather, there is not much to talk about, or maybe, there is.

      Waking up again, and it's 8:20.

      At some kind of zoo, or maybe it's a video game facade. I'm on the side of the lizards, but there are also mammals, lions and penguins. For some reason, the lizards decide to hide out on the near-vertical wall, bathing, possibly reminiscent of the sphenodontians, the last remaining species being the tuatara of New Zealand. Am I responsible? 30-40 % go extinct in a few hours. A travesty.

      Later, some kind of land mammal, forget the name. Every day, the lions jump over them, and a few of them get injured and die. We try closing the door, we try negotiating with Atlan, and nothing happens. Later, we storm the beach, and head outside. Success.

      I'm here at a beach party, outside now, warm weather. I ask this girl whether she's still interested in going to prom with me in a few months. Yet I get completely tongue-tied, and she ditches me, preferring instead to go with somebody else. Maybe those promises weren't meant to be kept that long. For a year.

      Waking up again, but forget to check the time. Guessing it's around 9:30.

      Something happens prior, no recollection. An old acquaintance of mine is standing in front of me, making me read some stuff that I find objectionable. Yet I read another text, this time in faux Greek, meaning the letters are greek, but the words English. I read this with no difficulty. Yet I leave out a compound word. The text turns out then, to be about spicy food. Oh no!

      Wake up for the final time now - it's 11:00 am. This dream had had at least twenty-five parts, none equal.
    11. Distant brightness

      by , 02-03-2012 at 09:12 PM
      Dream: February 2, 2012

      There were at least five parts to this dream. Unfortunately I only remember one of those parts.

      On my street, a clear blue day. Looking through a telescope at the sky, and the ground, at the Sun (DON'T DO THIS IN WAKING LIFE!). Not as bright as I thought it would be.
    12. Occupied space

      by , 02-01-2012 at 01:54 PM
      An unusual spattering of dreams from this morning.

      Somebody was stepping on my crotch. It hurt.

      Later, there was an Occupy protest in my town. Somewhere in the world, 4 more people were killed, and Wikipedia was going to mention the fact. This brought the worldwide toll from 96 to 100, quite remarkable considering this was supposed to be a revolution - but mostly, of the mind.

      I'm suffering from sleep paralysis, unable to turn my head more than 10 degrees, or was it 25? I'm apparently facing up, grabbing my laptop and going on Twitter, tweeting about the fact I have "testicular" sleep paralysis. Well, my fingers still can move, but when I try to turn my head, I start shaking like a wildman.

      Shaking. Just shaking.

      Facade - a giant room, chandelier on the top, wooden with big gates at the sides. Some kind of medieval fortres or university.

      I go on my computer again, this time on the website Weather Underground. I see that there are two tropical systems: one near Australia, and another over western Lake Michigan. How unusual for this time of year. The Great Lakes storm's name is Isabel, retired in 2003. Here it is a tropical storm, about to do an outside loop, and track into my area in four days. By then, it will have weakened.

      That's odd - it actually is expected to rain Sunday.

      Later, or possibly earlier. I'm reading some source material about Asperger's, and hypermasculine disorders. Where have I encountered this before?

      I awake to the sound of my alarm.
    13. Crash landing averted

      by , 02-01-2012 at 02:28 AM
      I'm sitting in an airplane, heading to another country. We approach the airport, and there seem to be some clouds and trees. Suddenly, I feel the plane lurching downward, thinking we're going to crash. Yet the plane manages to escape within a few metres of the ground. We land slowly, and prepare to get out of the plane.

      Flashback. Here, I'm drinking hawthorn nectar, but it's a facade.

      Suddenly, I'm back home. It's as if I never boarded the plane.
    14. Drowning in math

      by , 01-31-2012 at 04:05 AM
      Another one of my nine-day dreams. This particular one occurred much earlier in the morning than usual, perhaps 3 - 6 am.

      I'm sitting down in a wooden room. Beside me is an eleven-year-old girl, who needs to learn math. I begin showing her some things I know about math, including graphs and equations.

      Half an hour into the study session, I think to myself: maybe it isn't a good idea to be showing an 11-year-old quadratic and cubic functions. She probably doesn't even know what a function IS.

      Surprisingly, she actually gets most of what I teach her. I sit around looking at a parabola superimposed on quadrant grids. Interesting.

      A bit later, I or some other "thing", is drowning as it, or I, oscillate in a continuous sinusoidal pattern. The facade is a jungle. Below the water, I think something is not enough, and above the water, something else is not enough and another thing is too much. Why didn't I rescue them? Those disparate thoughts, coming straight out of nowhere.

      Shortly afterward, there's this flat thing rising, sinking, rising again. I hear the sound of my alarm.

      Just after 6 am now. I wake up, soon to get dressed, because actually I have a math exam today.
    15. Nitrogen flashback

      by , 01-29-2012 at 07:59 PM
      The most vivid of my dream occur in late mornings - not surprising, given that usually by now I'd be in waking life - and it was the only fragment I remember. This one happened roughly 10 - 11 am.

      Oxygen is paramagnetic. That means at low temperatures, it is attracted to a magnet, and to magnetic fields. Oxygen is a liquid at low temperature, but here in front of me, I had a 0.5 x 0.4 x 1.2 inch sample of SOLID nitrogen.

      Here I was, in my semester two chemistry class. Anyway, This solid sample looked rather like some coarse granite, though more greenish and with finer grains. It was submerged on some sort of floating circular spoon, within a water bottle. I reached in to touch it using my finger, and it burned. However when my nose went near it, not sure how given it was a bottle, it didn't burn, but only felt cold. We submerged it in the water slightly, and it started to fizz.

      I knew that liquid nitrogen expanded explosively when converted to gas, but that is not what happened here. Soon, I took the spoon thing and submerged the entire nitrogen solid packet underwater, where it started to boil violently. We drained out the water, and then poured in some soda water, which turned the water greenish and made the boiling into some inverted vortex plume.

      There was a guy in my class I don't get along with, and I hope he is not in my class. There was also a girl near the chalkboard, who asked me what I was doing. Thought I might get into trouble, because I had just destroyed a sample of expensive solid nitrogen.

      Nevertheless, I wondered what would happen if salt water or just plain salt were poured onto the solid nitrogen sample.

      That's when I woke up.
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