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    Lucid Dreams

    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. 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.
    4. Morning sky of rapid repatriation

      by , 01-22-2012 at 07:21 PM
      Dream: January 21, 2012

      In the dream, this occurred between 1 am and 3 am. It was probably a bit later in waking life, though, as my dreams always occur in the morning hours.

      It ended with sleep paralysis, or maybe it began.

      Either way, this was my first episode of paralysis since November. It was night in my dream, morning in waking life, and I felt smothered by my sinus infection and the pillow. Lying down, as I was the previous time. Maybe this time I woke up, or went back to sleep, or woke up. I guess I will never know. Tried to move some of my appendages, but it was late.

      At my house, my parents were preparing to leave. Yet I was out of bed, wide awake, past midnight. One of them would accompany the other to another country, as they loaded and packed up the car to go to Detroit (facade?). Something earlier happened too, but the details of that were now missing. I had a cell phone, and they had a cell phone.

      About an hour passed, then half an hour. I took some baking soda, and did a line in the fridge, preserving something that would otherwise rot if the power went out. No idea why I did that, but it was suiting.

      Picked up my cell phone, either to make a call or receieve one. My mom was on the phone, though it was difficult to hear, probably because of the great distance. The voice was becoming more static, and fading.

      Just staring at the wall, none of it made any sense.

      I looked at the time. 2:32, 2:34, 2:38. How much more time would pass, me sitting here, alone?

      I knocked on my parents' door, as it was closed. They opened it, and were still inside the room. "But weren't you just driving to the airport?"


      "But what about the cell phone?!"

      That was weird. They were also disappointed about the baking soda, as I headed to bed, and they began to argue.

      Outside, the sky had a purple glow, and the streetlights were orange. I had tried to close my eyes, run into the window, because I knew it was a dream at that point. Yet however close I was to pronouncing it a dream, I just couldn't convince myself, for I was unable to escape through that window. There was an extra tree in the street, too, a sure sign that it was a dream.

      I ran again, and they just kept arguing. Waking up, they were still arguing about some of the same things as during my dream, as I drited in and out of sleep on a weekend morning.