nightmare

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.

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.

LEVEL 1.5 DREAM - TIME SCALE: NONE.

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...

LEVEL ONE DREAM - BEFORE THE INCEPTION

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...

LEVEL ONE DREAM - AFTER THE INCEPTION

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...

LEVEL TWO DREAM

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.

LEVEL THREE DREAM

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.

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.

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.

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?"

"No".

"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.

Dream: January 14, 2012

This was another one of my 9-day dreams, the dream that occurs once every nine days since I began blogging/journalling. Although more of my dreams were being remembered now, this one was particularly stark (reader's discretion advised).

A dark tragedy unfolded in 1989: the Montreal Massacre, at the École Polytechnique in December of that year. The perpetrator was Marc Lépine, who went on a rampage against those he called 'feminists'. This time, he was still alive, had an accomplice, and that was me.

I didn't know what the murderer really looked like, but the description seemed to fit. He uncocked his gun, shot fewer than a dozen people, who fell to the ground. That part would be blocked out from my memory, for I too was in shock.

We ran onto some grounds, a mix between a university campus and a hospital. The perpetrator again pointed his gun, but this time some security guards ran out, using walkie-talkies to signal each other that there had been an incident nearby. One or two of them were female, blonde, but none of them knew of our presence. Other than the atrocities we were about to commit, it was a rather fine day, little or no snow on the grass, and not a cloud in the sky.

We ran beside a concrete wall, in some type of enclosure. Marc lined up four adults: two men and two women; two Asians, one middle-eastern and one Caucasian. None of them seemed related. I stood to the side as the crime scene unfolded. The lights dimmed. It was a scary sight.

One by one, he shot them with a semi-automatic revolver. Blood flowed from their faces, and they dropped to the floor. A short time later, I woke up, trying to remember what was going on.

I had had some dreams before, in which a murder took place. Usually though, the person being pursued or killed was me. This time, though, I had actually been the accomplice to a murder. Never before had I been the actual murderer. Well, let's just hope it stays that way.

Dream: January 11, 2012

This one was a rather short dream. Most of them occur in the morning as this one did.

After packing up, I was soon on the road. It was a trip of some sort. The sky was blue, and small, and I alongside half a dozen of my groupmates were crammed in a jeep travelling through the suburbs of Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. I had never been there, but it (in facade) resembled a picture of Mount Fuji in Japan, without the volcano. After this spot, we would travel east to Petawawa. We wanted to stop for lunch.

Suddenly, I was back home. I looked at my computer screen, which had an eerie green colour. Typically it would be a nightmare to watch my computer screen do something unusual, but not this time, for I had overcome that fear already.

The next morning, I had a different dream.

In that dream, one of my close family members died. That was the nightmarish version, exemplifying a fear that I already had.

That day, I biked for about an hour in the rain.

This dream has nothing to do with Damascus. I dreamt it four nights ago, on the morning of the 5th, so it might be inaccurate by now. Weird, I seem to remember a dream every 9 days, but maybe that will change.

We were told to be prepared. Prepared that is, for a haunted house of some sort, that had been very scary to its previous visitors. It was a building created sometime in the late eighteenth century, sometime around 1770. We prepared to descend into the narrow steps. I was in a group of about a dozen or more people.

It was somewhat dark in the room, but there was a bright light from nowhere. Somewhat resembled one of my friends' houses' basements, but that must have been a facade of the actual memory, because it really wasn't like that at all. A picture of someone hung on the room, and it was frightening to enter and to look at--the picture resembled Abraham Lincoln, but that must be yet another facade.

As we entered, we expected everything from spooky noises to whatever you expect from ghosts. But a few seconds in, I discovered it wasn't scary at all.

The entire dream fragment lasted maybe one or two minutes, and yet few of the details are still remembered. As I woke up, it was morning, and my family was talking very loudly about a now-familiar topic: ghosts.