ErraticHopper

Well my recall has been terrible for the past... 2 weeks? I just got back from 5 days in New York and was hoping for some good dreams there since I had a hotel room all to myself. But alas, nothing. Perhaps shifting my sleep schedule had a bigger effect than I thought since on the first night back I already got a non-lucid AND a lucid dream (isn't that exciting!). The lucid will follow in my next entry.

In a church, I'm singing in choir. The spacious room has Victorian dark wood panelling about half the height of the wall and the double doors (also panelled) are rectangular, rather than the portal shape I would expect. They are set in a heavy moulded stone doorway. The masonry is all white, but the church is brick on the outside. I see several items of old gothic furniture, including an elaborately carved wooden lectern. I head to the exit and see papers, leaflets, posters pinned on a door and piled on chairs by the entrance. A man is standing with a profound expression next to a stand of green leaflets by the open door, and I think that he will sing if I ask him to. I go out.

I walk back with another girl in choir. I ask if she is going back to 'choir boot camp' with me on Monday and she affirms that she is. We talk more, laughing a lot - though she doesn't remind me of anybody. I ponder how the camp lasts 6 school days (although it might be 7 considering the timeline in my head) and I can't believe the headmistress let me miss that much school.

Later I arrive at home with a Japanese woman, older. I see a black cat on my doorstep and point it out to her. She seems to look right through it for several seconds before noticing. I feel annoyed because 'she always does that'. So I try saying 'there's a cat ' in Japanese to better attract her attention. This causes her to freak out - she screams and grabs me roughly (seriously - it hurt!) by the shoulders, telling me not to 'say there is a kitten' or I will scare her. I think that she misunderstood me, and now she thinks there is a kitten under the nearest car.

Fragment: I pick up one of my dresses and find that on one side, the fabric has ripped all along the zip and hangs open. This dress doesn't actually have a zip. I am distraught since I only recently discovered a rip in my other favourite dress (this is true) and now I can't wear either of these until they're fixed.

See how it took me more than a week to post this? I'm getting lazy... Too lazy... Too lazy to dream journal. Which isn't great. But finally I'm getting back on track and practicing awareness more during the day, so hopefully some results soon.

I'm so annoyed with myself! I remembered this whole dream when I woke up (at 4:20) but I didn't write it down immediately because I was tired. It was really interesting, too. Now I only remember this fragment. This reminds me strongly of another dream which I never wrote down, I can't remember when it was but it was at least a couple months ago.

I'm travelling on the underground trains, but my train is stopped for some reason so I exit. I remember standing in a wide square above ground. The ground is covered with yellow gravel and the sky above is clear and bright. I stand in front of a blocky stone monument, a large slab with words carved into them. I don't think I bothered to read them.

I read about some artwork in two train stations and I want to go and see it. An artist carved messages into the platform walls, criticising two different British prime ministers. After waking up I felt like they were Tony Blair and Margaret Thatcher - but surely not... That would be funny. I take the train once again and get off at the station where the first one is. The platform is wide and its wall is rough-textured, as though there is a thick layer of cement on the outside.

However upon arriving I am shocked to see the artwork almost completely gone. At the near end of the platform the beginning of one line of text is carved into the wall. At the far end finish two or three lines. Between is a smooth blank expanse of dark grey cement. I know that text once covered the lower part of this wall, but it seems to have been erased - smoothed over without leaving a trace.

I suppose that because Tony Blair (why not) became Prime Minister after all, he had the work removed to avoid damage to his reputation. This thought weighs on me. The idea of political censorship leaves a bad taste in my mouth. On the platform, the next station is Victoria.