Invasion of the Seanchan I'm looking at a plastic model of a hay-filled wagon. Bumping it accidentally, I realize that the hay was manufactured in multiple layers. You can take them off one at a time! This is the coolest thing. Underneath the final layer is a model of Nynaeve. (It's a reproduction of a moment from the Wheel of Time series [except it's not; that I've read, Nynaeve never hides under a haystack].) There's something wrong with Nynaeve's face, though; the proportions aren't right. Oh, well, you can't win them all. In the hay is a small hair clip with an exquisitely delicate decoration of a flower [or something]. It's part of a set of three that the Seanchan are secretly distributing; when they attach one to your clothing, you come under their control. Suddenly, a Seanchan voice starts speaking from the platform in the middle of the room! Basically, it's a holdup. They're blocking all the exits and they've come to invade. Many of them lift their staves and shoot a sort of heat-distortion bubble towards one side of the room. Their target is a dark-haired man, who gets up from his chair to catch all of the spells into a pulsing, floating black circle, like an eclipse or a black hole, the size of a soccer ball. I've no idea what it will do, but it looks powerful. The tension builds. . . . Suddenly, the whole thing breaks out into what seems like a silly, dancing commercial of some kind.
Updated 01-12-2013 at 12:33 PM by 57256
No recall. [This is turning out to be quite the dry spell! That's to be expected, though. Probably within another week I'll have adjusted enough to my new surroundings, and recall will recover.]
No recall.
No recall. [Last night was the first time in a while that I've slept straight through the night and gotten up as soon as I woke up. I woke up without an alarm, too, which was nice.]
No recall. [I have no idea what times I slept because I was changing time zones, and I didn't sleep very soundly on the flight either.]
No recall. [I'm going abroad soon, so updates may be spottier than usual for a couple of months.]
Updated 01-06-2013 at 05:08 AM by 57256
Island [My notes say something about a grocery store at the beginning of this dream, but I don't remember what.] The island is covered in stone buildings, like an old university. I decide to visit the island, so I start walking along the hiking trail to get there. Soon I'm walking over dry, dead grass, and soon the path becomes so steep that I have to crawl upwards. My head faces the grass and I can barely see anything else. I wish I had thought to wear kleats; it would have made this journey much safer. Later, we are all summoned to the island for a meeting. I go there with a friend. Instead of going straight to the meeting, we wander down a side path, into a part of the island I've never seen before. My friend wants to keep going this way, but I need to go back to the mainland for something. I rise into the air, soon realizing that being in flight means I'm dreaming. I fly out past the island and down to the water. The dream starts fading and to my frustration I'm unable to stop myself from waking up. IRL, some of my family are having a noisy conversation right outside my bedroom door, and I suspect that's why I woke up so inexorably. Lunchbox I, a high school senior, am walking to lunch. I pull out my lunchbox, which my mom packed for me this morning. Then I remember that I'm on an unlimited meal plan (in college), so there's no need for Mom to be sending food with me anymore. I tell this to her, but a couple of days later, she's still packing my lunchbox for me. Frags: There's a pit in the middle of the hallway with a small stepping stone in the middle. He crosses the gap by doing a handspring off of the stepping stone.
Contentious Parking Spot (LUCID) [The alarm woke me up at 10:00, but I fell asleep at about 10:07 and had this dream sometime after that. Content warning: some sex at the end.] The field trip is over and everyone's figuring out how to get back home. A tallish guy walks down the line of students, trying to make eye contact with me. I'm pretty sure he's trying to ask me if I want to take the bus with him, so we'll both have company. When he reaches me, I assure him that I will (after verifying that he's talking about the same route as me); in fact, I had been planning to take the bus anyway. Our stop is at 58th street. I get off at an underground stop and ascend the stairs to the surface. I emerge a couple blocks south of my dorm, in a neighborhood I usually try to avoid for safety reasons. The trouble is, I don't want to look scared, either. Thugs would find that encouraging, and innocent residents would find it insulting. So I try to maintain a measured pace as I walk to the corner. I see two men my age coming my direction. I now have an agonizing decision to make. Do I run and be labeled as a prejudiced bigot, or do I keep walking and be mugged? Fortunately, they're far enough away from the intersection that I think I might just reach it far enough ahead of them that I don't need to worry. Unfortunately, when I turn the corner, I find that the dorm is still two blocks away, rather than the one I thought I remembered. Holding my pace, I try to stay calm. Soon I'm in a car, turning a corner to find some empty street parking. In fact, there's a sign that states only people from my home state are allowed to park here, and two of the spots are labeled with the logo of the university in my home town. (I go to college out of state.) Apparently they're very organized about their parking around here. I pull into the spot. When I step out of my car, though, one of my high school friends is standing there. "I'm going to have to move your car," he jokes. Apparently he uses it on a daily basis. Perhaps he even has a claim on it, because he actually goes to school at that university. [IRL: I'm not sure where he goes to school.] I assure him that he needn't bother; since I barely use my car anyway, I'll just put it in one of the long-term spots in the nearby underground parking garage. It's a bit of a nuisance, but hey, I'm a nice guy. The parking garage is four stories deep, with a curving ramp going down. Once, I miscalculate the turn, and end up having to perform an elaborate K-turn in order to get the car aligned well enough to go down to the next level. On the third level, I find some empty spots, but they're far enough away from the ramp that I'm worried I wouldn't spot the car right away. It's a given that by the end of the quarter, I'll have forgotten completely where I parked. It'll be easier to find the car if I put it in one of the close spots on the fourth floor. So I keep going down, find a spot, and park. Now my car is disguised as some kind of lightweight wooden framework [??], and I realize it would be very easy for some obnoxious fellow to pick it up and move it somewhere else. In fact, there's a guy trying to do so right now. I walk back to the car, thanking him not to do that any more, and I try to manifest some tent stakes into my hand so that I can pound them into the ground and hold the car in place. But obviously, if I'm manifesting things into my hands, I must be dreaming, and of course tent stakes are then a ridiculous waste of time. I'm a bit fed up with half-lucid dreams where I get nothing done, so I throw caution to the winds and try to force the dream to change to one where I'm having sex. To my surprise, the dream doesn't immediately fall apart, and a few seconds later I'm lying on the floor with a plump woman in a white sweater leaning over me. "You get two kisses," she says with a stern look, clearly implying that I will get no more. I accept this. The first kiss seems a little off, though, and this isn't really what I wanted to be doing anyway. I change my mind and try to change the dream to actual sex. The woman, now directly on top of me, thins somehow and becomes naked, and now this is definitely a sex dream. The girl says something about being 18 again. A few seconds later, it's over, which wakes me up.
[I've switched to 24-hour timestamps, just in case my schedule gets really bizarre.] School Play I'm trying to find the showers, but there are a lot more people running around the hallway than usual. Pulling back a curtain, I find the place I was looking for, but all of the stalls are taken. The one nearest me is taken by Lord Voldemort himself, judging by the face. That's weird. Some of my friends drag me out on stage to take part in the auditions. I'm stuffed into the head of a dragon costume. My job is to move the jaws and tongue in front of a light to create a lifelike shadow puppet against the wall. After we read a few lines, though, we're shooed offstage. I don't think the show's director was impressed. At least this explains why someone was dressed up as Lord Voldemort. In the audience, I spot the actor who played Bilbo in "The Hobbit." It takes me a minute to recognize him, though. By the time I realize how cool it is that he's here, there are too many people between us for me to catch up to him. I find my roommate in the hallway. Earlier I lent him my toothbrush, but he's had it for a few days now and I want it back. His reply to this request is pretty confusing. I'm not sure what he's saying, and I suspect he's trying to evade giving a straight answer. What a bum. Number Puzzle My grandpa's been helping my group of classmates by making a number puzzle, similar in layout to sudoku. When I take a close look at it, though, I'm confused. How is it supposed to work? I start counting the number of numbers per column carefully. Most of them have eight, but I find one with nine. That must be a mistake. I call over someone to point out the problem, but I'm still confused. Here's a column with seven. So if I just shift one number over, that should fix things. But this box has some commas and periods in addition to numerical digits. Am I supposed to count those as well? Probably I should, since they must be there for a reason. I'll have to count everything again. . . . Self-Haircut As part of a deal, a girl is using electronic clippers to cut her own hair. The idea is just to go for it and see how it turns out. As she goes along, though, I notice she's taking a bit too much off of the sides and not enough off of the top. If she keeps going the way she is, eventually she'll have to get a buzz cut in order for the haircut to be even. So I try to get her to cut more off of the top. I'm not sure how well it's working, though.
Correctional Facility [There's a bit of sort-of-lucidity right at the end of this dream, but not enough that I'm willing to call it lucid.] One of my housemates lends me one of those red-light scanners through the bars separating our cells. I try to use it to give her ID card administrator access through the prison. From the instructions on the scanner's status display, I'm supposed to scan her card first, then scan the device that will grant her access privileges. Suddenly I notice that a guard is coming down the hall with some new prisoners. I have all sorts of illicit papers and devices spread on the floor of my cell, so I just try to lie casually on top of them as the group passes. Thankfully, the administrator doesn't notice. I scan a few more cards, but then I notice I've lost track of my friend in the confusion. I get up and walk down the center aisle of the bus, looking around at the people in the seats. Eventually, I find her [though she's a different housemate now], but the seats near her are taken, so I just grab a random empty seat a few rows farther back. I'm nervous. This bus is taking us to a correctional facility, where we will atone for our crimes. I know it is the morally correct thing to do, but I'm worried that my time here will interfere with my studies at college. The bus pulls to a stop in front of my old elementary school. It's almost dark out, and it's drizzling. Everyone seems to be heading around the side of the school, so I follow them. Then I realize there was a fork in the sidewalk a few steps back, and not everyone went the same way I did. But then someone shouts at those other people that they're going the wrong way. We're led into a nearby building with modern architecture (i.e. lots of windows) and up to the second floor. In the hallway up there, I see a number of doors with slots for access cards, and I'm very tempted to test my card on it to see if my earlier experiment worked. But there might be guards nearby, and I'm not sure I'd even be able to recognize one if I saw one. Maybe I'll get a chance to test my card sometime in the next few days, when I have a moment alone. But what if they chaperone bathroom trips? I might never get a chance! I realize that I'm not carrying my backpack of stuff. What happened to it? Looking around, I notice one of the plainclothes guards is carrying a lot of luggage for the new inmates, including my backpack. I wonder if it would be polite for me to volunteer to take it back, or if he's carrying it because I'm actually not allowed to have any of my stuff right now. I decide not to ask. After a bit more walking, I reach a big auditorium, where everyone is taking a seat. I sit towards the back. Once almost everyone is seated, the facility workers start explaining things to us. They start going through a list of attendance. One heavyset man with glasses and salt-and-pepper stubble names a person who is supposed to be here, because he was summoned no less than 351 days ago. The auditorium takes a collective gasp at that. There's no set time by which you have to answer a summons, but waiting that long is shockingly rude. Perhaps that person doesn't intend to answer for his crimes at all. They start going down a list of attendance, but they are interrupted only five names in by one of the new inmates. "None of those people are here; we're all from Bus 84." Apparently Bus 85 got delayed somewhere. Clearly most people here know much more about this process than I do; they must have been committed here before. Suddenly, people start pointing at the ceiling, which is made of glass. Looking up, I see some indistinct dark shapes flying overhead. Is it an air strike? Are we about to be dragged into a war? It's hard to see clearly enough to say if the shapes are dropping bombs, or indeed if they are airplanes at all. Then one of them flies almost right overhead, then dips downward and out of view under the floor. It was shaped a bit like the Millennium Falcon in miniature. No one in the auditorium is moving, but I think we're all wondering whether we should be running for cover. The ship shoots upward again past the windows on the opposite side of the room, as if it has looped underneath us. It arches over the ceiling, then drops below view on the other side again, closer to the building than it was before. Has the pilot lost control? What's happening here? The ship shoots into view again, loops over the ceiling--and crashes straight down through the room about fifty feet from where I'm sitting. One of the wardens shouts, "Good lord!" but they still don't seem to be moving. I guess they're just shocked. Well, damned if I'll be waiting for them. I run for the doors as the building begins to shake underneath me. Some other inmates are ahead of me, but when I reach the exit, there's no hallway: it's just a straight drop three or four stories to the ground. And the entire room is tilting, sliding, falling towards the concrete below. If this were real life, there's no way I would survive this. I jump out of the door and land on the highway with traffic coming toward me. It's daytime now. I jump on top of the first car, then jump to the second, and continue jumping my way down the line. This is ridiculous, though, so I obtain a motorcycle from somewhere, mount it, then activate the jet engines. This is fun, but I still have to dodge traffic coming straight toward me. I bounce the motorbike into the air and activate the transformation into a sort of metal hang glider. [Interestingly, I don't think the transformation sequence had any visuals, I just sort of imagined that it was happening in an abstract sort of way.] Then the glider's jet engines kick in, and I shoot above the treetops and continue on my way. Now that I'm out of danger, I pull out my cell phone and dial 911 to report the incident at the correctional facility. As I wait for the dispatcher to answer, I'm gliding over a grass field between two roads. There's a cute girl walking across the field. Tall, with wavy blond hair and freckles. We smile at each other. I'm about to fly onward when I remember that making out with someone is one of my dream goals! Letting go of the glider, I stumble a bit as I land on the grass behind her. This is a bit of a risk because there might not be enough action to sustain the dream--but if dream goals weren't risky, they wouldn't need to be goals. "Hey, wait! Come back here!" I call. She stops and watches me, looking a little defensive. I'm a bit thrown off by the fact that she's a little chubbier than she was before. It's like she's a different person, cute now in a different way. "Um, hi," she says carefully. "I just want to make out a little." She just stares at me. "Please?" She's still just staring at me as the dream fades to black and I begrudgingly wake up. [IRL: Last night, I finally took out my dreaming goals sheet again to pick a few lucid dreaming goals. "Make out with a girl" was NOT one of them, though. Also, I would give a lot to know what crime I committed to be sent to that correctional facility . . . but alas, I cannot remember.]
Homework Stress Today is July 1st. One of the first things my [old] chemistry teacher does in class is ask for the homework. It was our choice exactly which assignment to do, but we were supposed to do 50 points' worth of homework. I haven't done it, because I forgot to check the syllabus. Frags: "alien invasion" [??]
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