non-lucid

I dream of the [X] library again. I've dreamt of it before, I'm sure, and it was like trying to recall my other dream - I struggled to remember where everything was.

I slip out of my house from a back door (white, frosted glass pane) into a narrow cobbled alley, and head towards the library. Soon enough I'm there. Entering the large double doors of the library I see a huge neon red sign, below which is surely a bar - tables clustered together, people clustered around them, moving, a long bar at the back wall, and everything is dark in there, as if it's midnight already, although the sky is bright outside.

I turn and head down some corridors towards the library. They are all white linoleum, white walls, windowless, winding - but somehow I find my way. At the end of a corridor are two curved white doors, leading off in different directions, where I know the library should be. They have circular porthole windows at the top. I push each one open, look inside, rush around searching, but all I find is more white rooms and offices. They are all empty and so quiet - it feels like I shouldn't be here.

Finally, whoever knows how, I find the library. I peek through the round windows in the door and see, set against purple carpet and dark green walls, shelves and shelves of books throughout a moderately large rectangular room. Children and (a few) teenagers mill around and stand and sit reading. I realise that this is the children's library and I need to find the larger one, and I turn back to search once more.

When I reach the large library, it is almost outside, a large glass wall facing onto a paved courtyard, accessed from a semi-covered walkway. I can see, through the full-length windows to the courtyard, the huge room filled with books and a few people walking around. But there is no door in sight. I proceed along the walkway, following the library wall, looking for ways in - I find none. When I at last come across a door, quite a ways along, I peer through its window and see just another corridor; narrow, curving, dark, empty, dimly lit with yellow lights here and there. It gives me an eerie feeling.

I retrace my steps to the courtyard and wonder how this can be. A woman in uniform (looking like an employee) marches briskly towards where I am, turns sharply to face the library wall, and shouts out an admonishment to the people inside while raising and bringing down her arm, just once, in a forceful slicing motion. The courtyard window seems to pop out of the walls a few feet, revealing hidden side walls which are also full-length glass - and then, as I watch from the side, the whole library slides forward out of the concrete at a dizzing speed, while shouts and protests come from inside - I see people leap up from their desks and gesticulate angrily towards the now departing woman. The library comes to a stop with a glass door now in front of me. I enter.

This is a library I used to visit often as a child. Not anymore, however - when I was 11 I lost a book and was too ashamed to go own up and pay the fine, so I never went back. The guilt has never gone away...

Old one!

1. (Fragment)

Lucid - although I barely remember. I stand at my kitchen counter in blue darkness, my mum on the other side, and pinch my nose for a reality check. It fails, and I know that I am dreaming - I wonder faintly how to keep my mum from finding out.

2.

I dream a song - it is a rap or more accurately, spoken. I recall hearing it in full, with distinct rhythm and what felt to be profoundly meaningful words, though I can't remember much now.

When I think of Amy Wine/
_.._.._/
_.._..and/
Laid the foundations/
Of beauty...

The song resounds in my mind as I fly over the city and the rooftops, feeling like a shooting star. The sky fades between several hazy, painted landscapes - sunsets, mornings - beaming light and colour. They are by her - she was an artist, surely.

3.

I am walking through the streets around my home - touring someone around, perhaps - perhaps I am experiencing a TV show about my area. It feels like that - like I'm not really here. Someone else's voice in my head explains to me what I'm seeing. I pass down a cobbled street, introducing the viewer to the pastry factory on the other side of the street - although it looks like a warehouse it makes the best cakes, and they're cheap! (IRL in its supposed location there is in fact a small film studio - it does look like a warehouse.) It's evening and the sky is indigo with a blurry slice of cold yellow at the bottom. I am heading home with a spring in my step - it should be almost dinnertime.

Once I'm back in my room, I reach for something on my desk and it's not there - strange - only a gap. This makes me feel odd so I move a few other objects to fill the space and placate my suspicions. When I look over to my bedside table, too, things I thought would be there are missing. My confusion grows and I rearrange some trinkets and ornaments so it looks normal, to take my mind off the weirdness.

I check my phone; I have an email notification. My parents were discussing my always being late and what they should do about it (??). It seems I was late to dinner tonight and my dad's response was to confiscate loads of my belongings. I can't believe he'd do this without even telling me, and the next thing I find missing, I storm out to confront him about it. I can't remember his response.

4. (Fragment)

An attic dimly lit with blue light. Open cardboard boxes are about, books stacked inside. There is a bookshelf against the back wall opposite the door and a small window in the slant of the roof.

Notes:

- More technology.
- Dream music! Who else has this happened to?
- Seems like a trend (with my last lucid dream) that despite being lucid I don't want DCs to know I'm dreaming or see me do anything abnormal. I really wonder why...

I'm travelling through the Underground with my boyfriend (?). We cross a metallic grey, wide passage, leading from a tunnel to the escalators. White lights beam down from the ceiling and reflect off the walls. I walk behind him as we step onto the escalator. His broad back in front of me makes me feel safe.

Later, I am with some friends, still in the same Underground station. We step off and escalator and walk through a short tunnel towards the platform entrance. I get a shock as we enter - almost the whole platform has crumbled away, leaving narrow irregular ledges that cling to the wall, bricks sticking out here and there below. We hold close to the wall as we inch along the platform, finding our footing with difficulty. I'm terrified of falling onto the tracks.

Then I am in class, but not in a classroom. There's another, similarly dilapidated platform that we are inching along, murky water lapping almost up to the edge. I reach an unstable part with nowhere to place my feet - the next ledge is too far of a leap, and I know that the nearest foothold won't hold me. It's too small. I can't bear the thought of touching that water, so I crouch down against the wall in despair and refuse to move.

A fruitful night.

1.

I'm at school, wandering around, up and down stairs, through empty corridors. No-one is around. All the stairways and passages seem much longer than usual.

I stop on a huge landing at the bottom of the stairs, at ground floor level. The wall to outside is a large expanse of glass, shimmering panes from floor to ceiling. Outside is a raised platform paved with gravel, walled in to the left by another glassy extension to the building while the other two sides face into the open air.

A girl comes up the stairs from the basement and pauses when she sees me on the landing. She is in uniform - a younger girl - and has a ponytail of bushy, light brown hair. We talk although I can't remember what about. Then she turns to the windows and says, boldly, "I'm going to go out on to the balcony!". I gasp. The balcony is off-limits to students because it gives a clear view into the staff room (the other room on the left) and we are not supposed to see in there. She pushes open a door in the glass and purposefully walks out. I feel terrified that she'll be caught. Suddenly, my perspective shifts: I'm on the other side of the staff room, where there is no balcony, standing slightly below the ground floor level and looking in. I see, through blue glass, rows of desks with computers and chairs. I am shocked to see that the room is completely empty.

Later, I am in a brightly lit hallway on the top floor. Although there are no windows I feel very high up. I walk with another girl, who says she wants to find a bathroom - I know her, she is somewhat tall and has long blonde hair. The bathrooms are along this hallway. She says she doesn't like those tiny narrow cubicles, and prefers the wide ones, so I direct her towards one bathroom which has a few larger cubicles. She ignores me and enters the one next door, only to find every cubicle occupied. Annoyed, she returns, and we go in. It is a very bright and spacious room with white tile up the walls. We pass the sinks and turn the corner to see a row of five large cubicles, and several smaller ones opposite. A few are occupied - I see curly hair over the top of a door - but some are open, and she enters one. I hang about outside, waiting, leaning against the wall.

2.

The sun beams down on us as I cycle, with a group of others, around a gorgeous flower field. Just as I become aware of myself, I see I am crossing a broad flat wooden bridge - though no water in sight - and I look up. We are cycling over a 'path' of slightly flattened and crushed grass, which runs all round at the edge of the huge oval-shaped field. Long grasses are waving and among them crowd pink, purple, blue, red and yellow wildflowers, small, tall, pretty. The air has a sweet grassy smell and the sun shines down warmly, making the whole field glimmer. I think how it's been so long since I last cycled, but it's true that you really don't forget - it feels so free and easy, flying over the grass on my bike. Another girl passes me, lightning-fast and scarily close, causing me to lose my balance and veer over to the fence around the wide edge of the path.

I stop right by the fence and put one foot on the ground. Here is dark green, cool and shady, with climbing and overhanging foliage winding around and above the fence and the trees outside it. The fence is white and curvy, two running rails with periodic posts sticking into the ground. Ivy clambers over it and obscures much of the metalwork from view. I lean over and see a deep, muddy ditch on the other side. I'm taking a moment to rest when another cyclist - a boy this time - comes barreling up the path and almost crashes into me. He stops himself at the last minute and proceeds to angrily yell at me: "Stop by the fence, idiot!" I cry back indignantly, "This is the fence! Can't you see?". He flushes red and rapidly takes off again.

I resume cycling, though stop regularly by the fence. At one point, I look over it and see rushing water. Its calming sound washes over me as I pan my gaze across the field.

3.

School again. I am in French class, in our little room at the top of the main building. We are all chatting and gossiping with the French teacher as we often do. I start telling her about when I saw into the staff room and it was empty - and I see her expression growing almost murderous...

4.

Leaving my house, on a rather grey day, I turn to see one of the neighborhood cats sitting in the street a little further up. He's a friendly black cat (and very fluffy) so I head over to say hello. I crouch down to stroke him, and he stands, turning his head towards me while raising his fluffy tail in the air - exactly like a picture of him my dad sent me last week.

Really happy with these dreams - it's rare that I remember so many. And cat! I love dreaming about cats.

It's starting to get really quiet around here so I hope all the people who haven't been online recently will be back soon. I'm missing having everyone's DJs to read

From a station somewhat close to my house (about 20 mins on foot) I take a train to see my friend. The platform extends out from under a tunnel of square white arches, and it's bright with daylight, but everything seems to get darker and narrower once I step onto the train and the doors close.

I get off at 'Westminster' after a half-hour ride*. Her house isn't far - next thing I'm there. It's much larger than her real house. She opens a huge black front door to let me in and we walk through a long, high hallway to the kitchen and dining room at the end. After a bit of chatter I open the fridge as if it's my house and rummage through to see what we could have for dinner. Chicken and chips, I suggest - and ice cream. 'Ice cream?' she repeats sceptically. 'Well,' I reply, a little embarrassed, 'I guess we don't need that.'

We make dinner and proceed with plates down another long, white corridor, into a vast and bare living room. The ceiling is double height and the walls are panelled and painted white. There is a white sofa in the middle of the room and a TV against the opposite wall. (Seriously this is all - IRL her house is a MESS) We settle down to watch together, chatting meanwhile.

I can't remember our conversation, though I recall it was interesting. Later, I leave, heading through yet another winding corridor through this maze of a house back to the front door (now, it's white). She unlatches the door and pulls it open for me as I step out into the dark chill night. I take the train home again - it's dark and eerily quiet - and finally shut my own front door behind me with a sigh.

I remember, later on, my mum appearing to rant at me about how I can't just keep coming and going from my friend's house every week. I ignore her.

*This is not where she lives, nor can you get there from the station where I was - besides, I always walk to her house.

I'm at home, curled in my desk chair, planning a trip to Monaco for myself on my laptop. The light is low and warm, it must be evening - and the trip is tomorrow. I look over my plans. I've already booked the Eurostar (£54.30 - I know it shouldn't cost that much!) and I'm familiar with the Côte d'Azur TER trains that pass through Monaco Monte-Carlo. Though I notice now that I didn't plan any way to get from Paris to Provence.

While reading through my plans, I'm a bit doubtful as to how well it will go - it's meant to be a day trip but it doesn't look like I'll make it in a day. With security and waiting the Eurostar takes about 3 hours, the train from Paris takes longer and the last one into Monaco is at least half an hour. I'm worried and I feel a headache coming on - I wonder if I should cancel the trip. Maybe I can get my money back?

Then it's the next day, my suitcase is packed and I'm leaving, still filled with worry. My mum wishes me luck. I don't remember what happens after I step out the door.

But then I am in Monaco, standing in a shop, the walls, floor and ceiling are completely wooden. I look over some goods displayed on wooden counters. Seemingly I've been here before: I remember a sale that was on last time I was here. This time the sale is some aromatic bars of soap. I pick over up and turn it over in my hand, smelling its lemony scent.

Sorry for slacking with the Dream Journal. I think this is the first time I've properly smelled something in a dream! Yay!

This is Day 42 because I noted some fragments during the competition, and forgot to send them in...

Two dreams tonight!

I'm inside a house, in a white dress, holding a baby. The front door opens and a man enters, he's wearing a hat and sunglasses and his expressionless, confident manner creeps me out. It seems I'm used to his entry, and I keep my head down and stand still while he walks up and down the living room before leaving. I don't remember arriving - I get the feeling I've been here for a long, long time.

Sometime later, my parents have come to visit, and I break down. "I don't want to live here," I sob. My dad pats me on the back but they both have expressions of not knowing what to say. This house looks a lot like my own house.

I'm outside, standing near the bottom level of a sort of Roman amphitheatre, a hand resting on the iron fence surrounding the arena. A soft shawl wraps around my shoulders. The theatre is sandstone-coloured and completely empty, weeds springing up through cracks in the stone. A man approaches from the arena and we talk for a while. I feel relaxed and peaceful, breezes are blowing.

Then I am in the house once more. I go to open the front door and let my mother in. She is outside and a little way back, waiting, is the creepy man. I hurriedly usher her in and shut the door in his face - I don't want him here today. Through the peephole I can see his face peering boredly in.

I show her into the lounge, and wanting to be far away from the man at the front door, suggest we go and stand by the far window. She agrees and we walk to the back of the room, gazing out. And then, the creepy man steps into view. He's come around the back of the house to the very edge of the window. I stand frozen in apprehension and he, too, is still - until he winds up his arm and smashes a wooden chair through the glass. Still expressionless, he moves to climb through the window. My mother and I seize another chair and use it to hit him and push him back. He doesn't yield.

Suddenly my dad is here, and so are the police. They have a 'stun gun' - not a taser but actually a tranquilliser gun with very short darts - and start shooting rapidly towards the man, and us behind him.

He's knocked out, but I feel and see a dart pierce my skin. I try to tell my dad that I've been hit, but no-one is listening and I feel my eyelids growing heavy. My eyes close as I'm babbling, grabbing at his arm.


2

I'm on a 'snowmobile'. No idea how those are actually supposed to look or what they do, but mine has a wide driver's seat and wheel, two seats behind and one on the back facing backwards. I drive it through the market street in the evening when who should I run into but a boy from my primary school (who I actually just met yesterday for the first time in ages) and his friends. We both exclaim at the coincidence and they ride on my snowmobile for a short distance. They drop off as I turn out of a narrow street onto the main road.


Regarding the first dream, the setting was a sort of dystopian society under heavy surveillance. I don't know how to fit it into the journal, it was just a feeling I had; the creepy man was there to watch me and how I lived. The baby might not have been mine, either.

SPRING COMPETITION NIGHT 7

I'm at home, in my room. It's the holidays and I'm not doing much - just lazing around on the floor, in a T-shirt and shorts and looking out of the window. It's sunny outside.

I receive a delivery of a big box of pastries, from school, for the prefects. There's a note from a teacher explaining that, since we're not at school, she sent them here instead (FYI I'm the head of the prefects). I guess she wanted me to distribute them, but it's the holidays after all, and I don't know where everyone lives. Also I really can't be bothered. I'm in a lazy mood. I eat some - probably more than my fair share - close the box and lay back down.

The next day I wake up to a message in the prefect group chat (from someone who's not even a prefect IRL). She mentions the pastries and that everyone's looking forward to them. I start to feel guilty for not handing them out and remember some other things I forgot to do. I hope everyone won't notice how scatterbrained I've been.

I go into school. There aren't many people, but in the school hall are some younger year girls in the centre of the room. They've built a rather wobbly (I tried to climb it) staircase out of some big plastic boxes and a desk chair, up to a high table. One of the steps is a block of something white and strange - I think they said it was squid - and a blonde girl refuses to go up it. The girl who placed it there complains that her friend doesn't understand the true usefulness of squid. I laugh at the girls and ask what they think they're doing.

I go up to a whitewashed classroom on the second floor, which seems to be our room in this dream. There's no-one in there but plenty of sunlight coming in through the windows. I think that I'd better get the pastries - and then I remember that I threw them out! I have a vision of the box left on top of a broken desk chair and a heap of cardboard boxes in an alley. I panic. What should I do? I know everyone else will arrive soon. I leave the room and run down the hall. In another room, bizarrely, I find the box. Although I don't understand how they could be there, I'm relieved and bring them back to the classroom.

Such a strange dream... At least things worked out in the end. Actually this is the first time I've eaten food in a dream! A milestone - though I don't think it counts for points if the dream isn't lucid. I can't remember how they tasted, alas.

P.S. I like to dress smartly and I would never wear a t-shirt and shorts, even on holiday!

I'm in a sparse one-room cabin high up on a hill. The hill is steep and covered with green.

Then, I'm sitting about halfway up the tiered seating (this is also very steep), in the middle of a lecture theatre, listening to a lecture. I can't remember what it was about now but I felt moved and I remember discussing it with the man sitting next to me. I thought he was in the anime club and I remembered that I'm in that club.

When the lecture ends, I head to the anime club room. It comes is off a high-up hallway, seeming to float over the hillside, bridging two towers together. The sky is dark now and it's pretty dim and shadowy up there. I am the first one to arrive. There's a smallish room with three long tables and benches, and an even smaller one through a door at the back of it which is either an office or a cloakroom.

Two women arrive, one blonde and one brown-haired. They sit down and, unusually forward for me, I ask the brunette (she's closer): ' Hi, What's your name?'. She tells me, it's a pretty normal one, and asks enthusiastically what my subjects are. I tell her that I'm studying Italian, French and Latin!

Then she goes into the back room and I slide along the bench to be opposite the blonde girl. I ask her name. "Don't laugh," she says, "My name is Tickdick." I'm slightly incredulous and she explains its meaning to me.

More people come in. I look around the room and now apart from the women I spoke to I see several men all in the same pale blue waistcoat. I remember thinking that I didn't expect there to be so many men in this club.

Later, after everyone has left and the room has grown even darker, my friend (IRL) comes in and we talk.

She speaks about how many girls in the school (including her) are now in lesbian relationships after failed relationships with non-binary people. They weren't sure about their sexualities when they previously said they were bi. I say something about this and she mentions that others in the school used to talk about me a lot, years back, when she was LGBT and I was the only one who supported her. I ask in interest what they said about me but I can't remember her answer.

She gets up and says she wants to go out to the field to see the olive saplings. I think that's it, at least. We leave the room and head down the hill to a bright, sunny green field nestled among the hills. There are rows of olive saplings on the hillside and rows of smaller plants below. We spend a while admiring them.

A farmer lad arrives, to take care of the field. We chat to him awhile. He needs to break down all the plants as it will help them grow. My friend protests a little but we watch him sweep his arm along the rows, breaking the stalks in two. He collects the broken tops. My friend tells him to leave those, at least -they'll dissolve into the soil and help the plants grow. He agrees and scatters them about.

Once he leaves I notice three birds glide out of a tree. They are positioned as if sitting upright with their wings folded to their backs, looking ahead. They still move forward steadily in the air. I point out to my friend how weird this is and we both stare at the birds in confusion, continuing to talk. Finally, high above the trees, I see the birds open their wings and begin flying faster, beating the air. "Of course!" I say. "They glide first, then they flap their wings to stay up!"

I enter my school's sixth form building late at night. As I head down the hall towards the dining area I can't see anything around. The hall is black carpeted and so is the larger room. The usual round tables are nowhere to be found and the serving counter is lower and farther forward than it is in real life. It's made of smooth white marble. The fridge is also shifted to the left. Though not quite real, the room is easily recognisable.

Nobody is around, but I get the impression a big gathering has just ended. Everyone else has probably gone upstairs already. (Seems like this is a dormitory in the dream - IRL there are only classrooms upstairs). There are lots of desserts left over.

On the counter are two large slate trays, each piled with jelly cut into cubes and stacked. One tray holds red jelly and the other, yellow. In the fridge is another tray of orange jelly and a cake liberally piped with cream on the top and around the sides. A few slices have already been cut out. Pitchers of clear juice or squash are on the shelf, one cherry-pink and one orange. I love desserts. I'm thrilled and head over to fill a plate.

I am really annoyed that I don't remember anything more! I've yet to taste food in a dream, still.

A room in the school with a large oval-shaped wooden table in the centre. Books and folders are around, stacked and leaning inside the filing cabinets which line the walls. I am there, another student (who I recognise) and a teacher. We are in discussion, then we leave to head to assembly, shutting the door behind us.

She and I enter assembly in the hall. There is a stage at the front of the room with floor-to-ceiling red curtains hanging open at the back. Everyone sits facing the stage on blue mats on the floor, shaped like those foam pool floats (kickboards?) that I learnt to swim with when I was a kid. There are three mats on a thick blue runner which are set aside for us two to sit on. I sit in front of her, but there's not enough space so I end up leaning on her legs a little. I look to my right and see that all the blue mats on the floor around seem minuscule, smaller than my fingernail, like scales.

As the assembly goes on, I'm relaxing more against her legs when she puts her arms around me from behind. I feel her hair brush my neck. I'm surprised - but it feels really warm, and I take it as affection between friends. Soon she starts lightly kissing my head and neck. I feel my whole face heat up and I'm not sure if this is still just friendly. I can't believe no-one is noticing.

This actually feels nice, but I don't know how to react, so I pull away from her a little. She loosens her arms and says, "Sorry. I just need this right now." I lean back into her hug again and she kisses my hair some more. After a short while I end up pushing her away with a brief apology. I distinctly remember thinking, 'I better remember this when I wake up...'

Well.

I'm lying in bed, because I'm sick again. My parents had gone out for a walk in the woods or something like that, I feel like they've been out all day. When my dad gets home he comes into my room and sits on the edge of my bed.

He tells me that my mum is dead. She fell down in the woods and died. I think of my mum falling onto a pile of sticks, breaking her leg. He tells me that the funeral has already been held.

I can't believe this. I ask him how he could have held a funeral without me - in one afternoon? I protest that I wanted to see her one more time but my dad himself has a distraught look on his face. I think that maybe he couldn't bear to wait. I'm in shock but I feel tears sliding down the sides of my face, wetting my ears. 'How old was she?' I ask, '58? 59?' We share the feeling of her being too young without having to say anything.

"Try not to think of her body," my dad says. "It disappeared in the fire I burned her in... Think of her soul." I think of a flaming wooden funeral pyre.

Some time later, there are lots of people over at my house. I seem a lot younger here than I really am. The adults stand talking with my dad and they each drink a vial of liquid that is supposed to make them the opposite of drunk. Some kids climb up onto my bed and we discuss that drink, agreeing that it is evil. We drink something that makes us hyper before knocking us out.

The news hasn't really sunk in yet, but when I wake up the next morning while everyone is getting ready to leave, I look out of the window at the bright blue sky and it makes me wail and cry out. "I want my mum back!" I say it twice and my dad tries to comfort me, but he doesn't say anything.

I changed my mind about posting the lucid. I can't piece together the sequence of events and have literally been agonising over it for more than a month which has been causing me to slack off on practicing (trivial, I know). So I've decided to forget all about it. It wasn't even an interesting dream!

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.

Fragment: I am on the BFI (British Film Institute) website, although it has a different name - three letters beginning with C. The homepage has a background of a wooden house surrounded by grassy fields where the wind is blowing softly. Somewhere on the site I am looking at a listing for a set of second-hand books (this is not something they would sell). The books are about the 'Crown Collection' and the series of 5 costs $8. I think this sounds pretty exciting and show my mum, but she scoffs that that is a stupid purchase. Surely I don't really want those books? I am awed by her scornful attitude.

Notes:

- Now that's the second time I've visited a website in a dream. Perhaps I should reality check when visiting websites. Just ask myself if what I'm looking at should really be on this site and why.
- The books really were priced in dollars, not pounds...
- I think a dream sign might actually be my mum being rude to me.