non-lucid

LUCID DREAM # 9 - SECOND WILD SUCCESS

December 25, 2014: Megavitamin, 5-HTP, 8mg Galantamine + 500mg Choline: WILD #2: I am at a desk in an office or a classroom type setting. There is a dream character, an overweight, middle-aged caucasian man in a dark sweater sitting in a chair at the left corner of my desk facing to my right as I face him from my chair behind the desk. He seems not particularly intelligent and is essentially non-responsive when I try and engage him in conversation. He ignores me even when I throw a pencil at him and hit him in the chest. I direct my attention further into the room. There is a woman who looks like a teacher. She is standing to the left of a large, square “blackboard” which is really an LCD television. She holds a wood pointer in her right hand, but the screen, although illuminated, is blank. I wake. One of my shortest and least eventful LD's ever.

December 25, 2014: Non-Lucid: I am in the operating room with L. C. I am on the assistant’s side of the table. The disinterested surgeon is sitting in a chair in the room as we obtain hemostasis in anticipation of closing the mammoth chest (the size of an oil tank!) of the patient. There are lap pads stuffed everywhere inside the patient, maybe 20 - 30 or more. There are numerous arterial and venous bleeders on the chest wall, and the surgeon does not want us to use Weck clips on them. Despite this, upon discussion with L., I start applying Weck clips to some medium and large venous bleeders and one weak arterial bleeder by picking them up with a forceps. One of the exposed veins I pick up is very long, about 3 cm, white and sclerotic in appearance. I advise the circulating nurse that there are a shit-ton of laps in the patient, so she had better start counting early. I wake.

May 23, 2014: Dream 2 of two: I am seated alongside the hospital bed of a man I do not recognize. He has a minimally injured right hand which looks like a sprained or broken ring finger, because it is taped to his middle finger as a splint for support. Despite the tape, we shake hands and we talk as the two of us leave the room. We find ourselves standing on the red embroidered rug in the lobby of the Bellagio Hotel/Casino in Las Vegas. There is a small adorable puppy at my feet and I pick it up. It has that “new puppy” smell! The puppy belongs to the man with the injured finger. He says the puppy’s name is Clementine. He is not particularly fond of dogs, but I tell him I love this puppy. It is so cute! I secretly hope he will give it to me. I put Clementine down and it playfully romps with another, larger black dog, before the two of them playfully scamper off. When they are out of sight, I see my wife’s springer spaniel Lacey in the far distance coming towards me from the direction the two dogs ran off in.

I go to leave the casino/hotel. My car is parked in an outside lot, and is the only one visible in the deep dark of the un-illuminated lot. It is parked obliquely in front of where a rock band is set up, so I need to move the car. I get in, and Lynne appears in the passenger seat. A tall woman opens the hatch to the Nissan Pathfinder and puts in a large radio controlled helicopter which barely fits inside. A man (evidently the owner of the heli) yells to her from a distance about folding the blades, and it finally fits and she closes the hatch. I start to back up, but can’t see anything behind me that I might run into in the pitch black. The car gains more speed in reverse than I would like or is safe, and no matter how I pump on the brake with my right foot, it doesn’t slow appreciably. I switch to my left foot and also pull up on the hand parking brake. This slows us down and we finally stop. All the time the car is slowing down I am worried that we might hit something that could penetrate the rear hatch window and hurt me or Lynne, but the car finally comes to a stop without incident. I wake.

May 14, 2014: Dream 4 of four: Dave K***, Lynne and I are all leaving Dave’s house simultaneously. We are each leaving in our own separate cars. Dave pulls out of his driveway in the Land Rover, and heads away from the two of us down a dark street without waiting for us. I am next to drive and Lynne is behind me in her Camry, which is showing only one headlight. As we drive, we encounter dozens and dozens of pumpkins which are strewn all over the road which we cannot avoid since they are so numerous. They are only medium sized (about 10") and we hit them or pass over them as we leave without damaging our cars. We get to a corner where Dave turned right, and do the same. There are no more pumpkins on this stretch of road. I wake.

May 10, 2014: NOTE: My first night of sleep following the administration of African Dream Root: I am standing facing a heavy set black woman holding a black baby. She appears to be a nanny. The baby is awake, swaddled in a light colored blanket with no pattern, and contentedly drinking from a small baby bottle. The woman’s face has an attractive, even carmel complexion, but also sports an irregular ring of significantly darker pigment which encircles her face from across her forehead, above and then outside of her eyebrow, down the outer aspect of her cheek, down to her chin and back up the other side in a symmetrical manner. I’m not sure if it is a tribal marking or not, and it does not detract from her appearance at all. It somehow suits her and is in no way startling. In fact, she appears to draw a certain power from the marking or tattoo.

There is a gym bag on a table to the woman’s right (my left). It appears to be filled almost to overflowing with dried marijuana flower nuggets. She needs or wants to do something with the bag, but she is holding the baby with both her arms. I offer to hold the child momentarily for her, but she politely refuses, saying the child might cry or be frightened because I am a white male and stranger to the child.

In view of that, I offer to move the bag for her. Again, she politely, but even more sternly says no. Then I say to her “Then lets engage in a social experiment to see if the baby does indeed cry if I hold him.” Again, she says “no”, at which time I wake up.

May 9, 2014: Lynne and I are driving in my car. I am driving the two of us to some kind of gala event thrown by S*****. I carefully back the car into a spot, parking perfectly between the white lines of an underground garage. I help her get a black rolling suitcase out of the car. The plan is for her to go on ahead of me because the event is going to be crowded. I’m not sure what is keeping me from leaving with her at that very instant. After she leaves I am still by the car, hoping she remembers that the event is taking place on the second floor of the vast, Las Vegas style hotel.

I take an escalator and arrive at the ornate white doors of the venue, which are wide open. Inside, the ballroom sized room is well-lit. There is, as expected, a large crowd already inside, and I am obligated to join an informal line of well-dressed people snaking along outside the doors waiting to get inside. People do leave the line to peek inside the doors and then go back to their place in line. Everyone is exceedingly civilized, mature and tolerant of the people who get momentarily out of line to peek inside and satisfy their curiosity about what is inside the room. A solitary woman exits the venue. It is Kathie Lee Gifford. She is holding and nursing a baby as she walks. I wake.

May 7, 2014: I am walking down a narrow hall of past a series of lawyer’s offices onthe left and right and I speak with two or three dream characters I encounter, none of whom I recognize from my waking life. They are merely friendly strangers. I am looking for and asking about my former work-place colleagues, but none are present. I ask a heavy set man if all of my co-workers are absent because they have out-of-office assignments such as court appearances or depositions, but he genuinely does not know. We talk for a while when I notice I am dressed only in a beach towel, which I have to keep pulling up and tucking in, or else it will loosen and fall.

I pass by a well-appointed double-office suite, and there is a man at the threshold of each. One has closely cropped white hair, the other is younger in appearance. A voice from one of them says something insulting about money...like “How does it feel to be without any?” and I feel anger. I enter the double suite, and confront them. Each DC is clearly is worried I will do something violent, but I don’t, partly over concern that I am only wearing an beach towel like an ill-fitting toga. The white-haired man asks me “What were you planning to do with my estate in E****’s N****?” I am taken aback by his question, as I don’t have the foggiest notion of what he is talking about.

I ask him - “Who are you?” and then as if to answer my own question, I almost simultaneously (with the question) realize that he was someone who had once been injured but now was all better, and this is why I didn’t recognize him. I say “Oh my God, I didn’t recognize you! How ARE you?? Never mind the house in E****’s N***, tell me about your journey back to health!” I say this partly to give me time to recover from my embarrassing flub of non-recognition and to also buy time to figure out what I was supposed to be doing about his estate. When I say my statement intending to distract him from whatever duty I may have had to him about his estate I sound (to myself) genuinely concerned, and my ruse of buying time to think seems like it came out of genuine concern for his well-being, at least as far as I was concerned. I wake.

May 6, 2014: Dream 2 of 4: I am one party to a contract. The other party is an alien female - who looks entirely human. The first of two needed contracts was prepared by me, but now it is the alien’s turn to prepare a reciprocal contract. We seem to be friends that like each other, and are not adversarial in any way. She comes to Earth so we can discuss the terms and so she can get it all written down properly and agreeably. We compare legal pads, which are yellow, and have substantial hand-written things on many lines, but also a lot of crossed out language. She eventually gets all the information she needs to complete the contract she is required to prepare.

The female alien gets ready to leave the room in which we are working, and go to bed. We kiss goodby/goodnight and we each go to our separate bedrooms to go to sleep. There is something incorrect in her contract which she can’t figure out. Whatever is wrong is causing the water in the toilets to run incessantly in the house. This keeps everyone in the house awake. A total of four house occupants (myself, the alien and two other dream characters I can't remember) meet in the hall between the bedrooms to discuss the situation. I say I’ll fix the contract, no problem. I do, and everyone is able to go back to bed and to sleep. I wake.

May 1, 2014: I am driving as a passenger with the couple from the TV series “Oddities” (Mike Zohn and Evan Michelson) in a small mobile home that has, in its underbelly, a second vehicle like a miniature white van. We are traveling around taking pictures of birds.

Mike Zohn says to me that they never purchase fuel for their vehicle. They simply steal it from executives, sports figures, and TV or movie stars that they know of in the area of the country that they are driving through at the time. I wake.

April 30, 2014: Used mantra “Tonight I will Lucid dream.” I am in a house which is “mine” but strange. It is configured more like the R**** home, with a landing at the base of the stairs leading to a front door with a glass storm door. The door is open, and through the glass storm door I can see Nina approaching. Glenn (her ex-husband) is upstairs behind me, unseen. When I open the door, our springer spaniel Lacey bolts out the door and begins chasing a large animal which turns out to be a badger. We all (Glenn, Nina, Lynne, myself) end up outside instead of inside, looking for Lacey and the badger, which escaped Lacey and disappeared into a sewer drain at the curb.

It is a beautiful sunny day outside, so we remain on the front lawn. Lacey is nowhere to be seen. The “badger” re-appears and we pursue it through a maze of low bushes of a medium sized front garden. We all wonder and discuss how it could have gotten out of the sewer and into the garden unseen. When we finally get it out in the open and trapped between the four of us, the creature more or less surrenders to being captured. It is not a badger. Rather, it has morphed into a medium-sized dog, a type or breed I have never before seen. It has medium-long hair, mostly tan, with white and black also. The hair on the ears has tufts. It seems sufficiently tame when not being chased that I try reach out for its collar and to pet it around its neck to calm and console it.

When I reach for the collar I find that the dog is wearing a department store style thin cardboard tag like you see on coats for sale. The tag is the color of a manila envelope. The black lettering indicates that the breeder is located in Honolulu, HI, but there is no name of any current owner. I speculate that we could find the owner through the breeder. According to the tag, the dog is a breed called a “FOMTO.” I wake.

April 24, 2014: Dream three of three: I am in a high-school sized gymnasium with hard wood flooring, like a basketball court. I am standing with one or two other men, facing a row of approximately ten young student athletes standing shoulder-to-shoulder who hold the hard plastic handles of some kind of clever climbing device with a slot at the top. There is a strong, non-stretch nylon-like ribbon about 12" wide which descends from its attachment at the ceiling and enters the slot at the top of the handle, which each man holds at chest height in front of him. At present, there are no markings on the ribbon, which is plain and dark (purple?) colored.

By raising first one side of the handle, then the other, the men can ascend in unison to the ceiling. Once there, they push a button on the handle and some kind of cam-like device inside the handle causes them to be lowered slowly and safely back to the floor, again, in unison. Now, as the ribbon unfolds, it reveals its slice of a larger picture, which, when viewed from the audience some distance away, is capable of revealing an American Flag, or corporate logo or advertisement. Evidently, I am there to try to sell the notion of this device to the school administrator(s), the other two men who are present. When the athletes meet the floor, I awake.

April 24, 2014: Dream two of three: I am outside on the street along with Bob *****and Glenn *****, who are leaning on their motorcycles which are (strangely) parked on the sidewalk. My motorcycle is unseen. Across the street there is a store which seems to be a cross between an sporting goods/outdoor shop and a head shop. There are numerous people milling about in the street itself, and this obscures the objects/items displayed in the shop’s windows. Even the door is difficult to discern. The door is open, but the threshold is not obvious because it is obscured by a floor-length beaded door curtain. Dave **** is wandering back and forth looking for the entrance, and from across the crowd, I try and direct him, but he appears to discover it all on his own. He passes through the beaded curtain, and then I cross the street and enter as well.

Inside, I do not look for, nor do I see Dave. I end up with a bag of power bars, which evidently I’ve already paid for, since I open and start to eat one. It is soft and chewy, as if it has cream cheese in it, and not what I wanted or expected. I wanted a hard, crumbly granola-type power bar. There is a hippy chick in her early to mid-twenties sitting cross legged on the floor. I give her the bag of power bars since they are not what I wanted.

Now I’m at a glass display counter. I have multiple, amazingly crafted rings on six or seven of my fingers. They are made of silver strands about the thickness of paperclip wire, which are twisted and joined into the most amazing patterns and at least one sports a clear diamond-like faceted stone. They look bright and new, and are crafted with an artistry as is only possessed by a High Elf from Lord of the Rings. I am looking for a stud earring to match, but the items in the display case are actually pins with colored plastic heads (red, and blue that I remember) and not stud earrings at all, so I leave.

When I am back at the motorcycles, Bob and Glenn are both eating something. Glenn has a very large salt pretzel, the kind you get at the circus or in Penn Station. I realize I should eat something too “so we’re all on the same page” before we bike off on our ride. I think I’d like a pretzel like Glenn had. At this moment I realize that I also needed to get a bed-roll or sleeping bag while in the store, and I didn’t remember to do that. I wake.

April 23, 2014: I am rummaging through an attic filled with a multitude of stacked cardboard boxes and plastic bins of various shapes and sizes. They are sloppily and haphazardly stacked, and there are no markings to indicate their contents. I am looking for something, but I don’t know what. I am finding all manner of worthless things, such as used crumpled tissues.

Now I am outside on the front lawn of my ancestral home in *********, not far from the driveway leading to the garage. I can see past the driveway, a little way onto the lawn on the other side of the driveway. There is what appears to be a wounded or dead squirrel. A bit further away, there is an adult male golden retriever standing placidly. The squirrel is face down with its legs splayed and is not moving. A blackbird or crow lands right next to it and pecks at it a couple of times. The squirrel immediately comes alive and goes crazy. It runs around frantically, in a panic, and ends up biting the golden retriever severely in its right groin area and penis, and the dog begins to bleed profusely. Blood gets distributed all over the lawn as the dog runs on the property.

The dog ends up on the front lawn, and Lynne appears. She puts two fingers on the dogs right femoral artery and the horrendous, abnormally excessive arterial bleeding stops. Now there is a small dressing on the wound, and no apparent blood on the dog or the dressing, which is white and taped in place. Lynne builds a tent around the dog to shade and protect it. The dog is weak from anemia. The dogs owners (a man and a woman) walk up to us from the direction of ****** ***** Road. We tell them what happened and they disappear.

My dead (IRL) father is on the front lawn, very close to the house. Lynne, the dog, the tent and I are close to the street. A lawn sprinkler system comes on, but instead of water, it is spraying arcs of blood from the dog which has evidently seeped through the soil into the system of pipes. Dog blood is being sprayed everywhere by the gallon every second. I get sprayed with blood and am grossed out. I yell frantically to my father to shut off the sprinkler system. In opening my mouth to yell, I get a small quantity of aerosolized blood in my mouth, enough to taste it. I wake.

April 20, 2014, Dream #2: I am hanging out in the third floor on-call room of a hospital along with some medical student with a longish face who is wearing a white lab coat. The room has floor-to-ceiling windows and looking outwards through the windows I can see directly and clearly into an administrative-type office with five women in it, one floor below and perhaps thirty feet away. The women are dressed in business attire and approximately 25 years old each. They all know each other and are comfortable together, like good friends or BFF’s. Two of them start to kiss fairly passionately, to the amusement of the other three. I continue to watch, also amused, not shocked or disturbed by this in any way.

There comes a moment where one woman notices me watching, and calls it to the attention of the others. I give them a wave, “intentionally coy” to convey the non-verbal expression of “I see/caught you” and also simultaneously conveying my non-judgmental amusement, identical to their own.

One of the five women is kind of hefty, but quite pretty. She is the one who picks up an old-style corded phone receiver from the desk, and calls into our on-call room. The phone she uses is plain black and has the old-style illuminated clear plastic push-buttons for switching between multiple lines. She clearly knows of our room, where it is in the building, and that it looks down into their own office. She obviously also knows the extension to reach us. I answer the phone. Her voice is not clear. It is breaking up like a bad cell phone connection, yet I understand that she is asking me if I would like to come down and meet her. I am married, but I don’t tell her that for the reason I am saying no. I just tell her “no, not right now.”

When the conversation ends, I turn to the medical student/ resident in the lab coat and ask him if he wants to come with me on rounds to see the post-op patients, write orders and pull chest tubes while Dr. T*** is in the operating room. He says no. I say, no problem, I remember what the work load was like while I was in medical school and I can sympathize with how tired and overworked/overwhelmed one can get by the program load and testing. I wake.

April 20, 2014, Dream #1: I am walking, carrying my long wool winter coat on a coat hanger. I squeeze through the opening of a chain-link fence that is sloppily locked with an over-long chain and lock, allowing my body to fit through sideways. The place I am leaving as I slip through is an otherwise empty baseball field/park. I find myself turning a corner to my right to continue down an urban street, and now a chain-link fence is on my left, right at the border of the curb and the street for as long as I can see up ahead. On my side of the fence is an African-American man, seemingly nice, but a stranger. He says something to me about taking a shuttle if I have things to carry. Tall buildings are on my right. Behind me, on the street side of the fence, subways and buildings disgorge thousands upon thousands of people, all intent on going home at the same time. The size of the crowd is stupendous.

As I walk on my side of the fence with relatively few people on it (maybe fifteen) a businessman in a suit starts exclaiming he was stuck by a needle. His concern seems to be it might have been contaminated with H.I.V. He makes quite a fuss. Out of all the possible people who did it is a blonde woman in the crowd who is with two or three other women. From a window three or four stories up, a shower of short human hair (as from the floor of a barber shop) rains down at the same time the man is making his fuss. I wake.

April 19, 2014 Dream #2: A dilapidated car pulls aggressively into our semi-circular driveway at our current home in ********. My 26 year old son Scott is casually lying down on his right side in the driveway, and the car containing at least one angry man (the driver) goes around and behind him, stopping abruptly. I grab at Scott's shirt dragging him upwards and order him to get up. I insist he stand up and take a defensive posture. The driver’s window is open and I very calmly and diplomatically approach and address him. I observe a second man is present in the rear seat immediately behind the driver on the same side of the car as I am standing. He is Caucasian and needs a shave, but doesn’t appear to be particularly animated or angry, nor does he make any move towards getting out of the car.

The driver does not get out either. He goes from being Afro-American initially, to being Caucasian when I look back to him after scrutinizing the passenger in the rear seat. The driver starts asking me questions about “Scott’s sister" (A**** my daughter). He wants to know if she is taking Ambien. I start to tell them there must be some kind of mistake in identity because my daughter is living in South Korea (as she is in reality) and they couldn't possibly know of her or be the subject of their anger, but Scott does not want me to tell them any details about her. I wake.