Join me in my travels, as I chart the deepest reaches of Mind.
Non-Lucid Dream, Wednesday, December 7, 2016: I am with an older man on the streets of an early-industrial city (pre electricity, few motor vehicles). His name is John Whitstone. The atmosphere is generally dark and dirty; the city is packed tight. We end up down a wider alleyway, where we see some kind of mob meeting. Obviously criminal in nature. Then the authorities come and break it up, arresting John. They begin holding a mass trial in the alley, with a long line of prisoners. I've become a witness. "Be careful what you say..." whispers one of the other witnesses. First up is a young lady. I don't recall her crime, something to do with magic, but she testifies for her own innocence beautifully. I actually get a bit emotional over it all. But the guard knocks her down a pit, presumably to her death. "Real justice this is," I think to myself. Then John's "trial" begins. The judge refers to him by my (in dream) name, which I do not recall. Immediately, I object: "There must be a mistake, as I am (name here). This man is John Whitstone!" The judge seems barely interested, but stops to question me. "You are (name here)? And he is 'John Whitstone'?" He seems indignant that I would question the court. "YES, he is John Whitstone," I reply, "John Whitstone!" I awake. Spoiler for Notes: I am not really sure what prompted this dream, if anything. But somehow it struck me more than a dream usually does.