• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    iarpo

    1. 08/08 Donkey Stilts, Rachel Green and Motorbike Suitcases

      by , 08-09-2010 at 12:28 PM
      Comment Dream Lucid

      Managed to get more sleep last night and I'm definitely getting closer to LDing. Last night I had a familar feeling:

      When I first joined DV in 2008 I was experiencing low levels of lucidity (see DJ archive). For example, something would happen in a dream that seemed hyper real or wasn't quite right and a disembodied feeling in the back of my mind would flag it up. In the dream this usually translated as, "Huh, that's strange" but I'd just carry on. It got to the point where it felt like there were two of me dreaming: the one in the dream/behind the camera and the one behind all that watching from afar. A nagging feeling crept into most dreams that all was not quite right. Eventually this came through as full LDs (as brief as they were).

      08/08 Donkey Stilts and Rachel Green

      I'm zach braff. I'm working in the same office as Rachel Green (Jennifer Anniston, though this was specifically Rachel Green). The office itself is tall and imposing, I don't remember ever seeing the ceiling. It's filled with files and old desks. It looks like an office would look in the film Se7en. Dark green chairs and that washed out grey brown of old wood. There's an almost sepia tint to the place.

      Myself and an unseen other are trying to usurp Green, doing our best to make her loook bad and get her sacked. Flagging up any mistakes in her work to our manager (what an arsehole). One specific mistake she made was her failing to capitalise the word which in a report, which doesn't make sense but hey - dream.

      If I can succeed in getting her job my pay will bump up to 140 (I assume that's 140k, but in the dream I only said 140)

      [Fragment missing]

      Next thing I know I'm zach again, this time with Dr Cox from Scrubs. We're in a tall city that feels like NYC, the buildings all have the distinctive architechture a brit associatesd with the place. Stone, very rectangular, lots of ledges, zig zag fire escapes and AC units bolted to the outsides of buildings and of course, steam pouring out of vents everywhere. It's late dusk, the colours in this dream are even more washed out, like colour photo that's sunbleached close to sepia. The air feels heavy, really heavy. (I'm starting to notice these as potential dream signs: heavy air and distinct colour palletes)

      We're some 10 stories high, stood on a 10x6 sheet of wood with stilts. There's a donkey on its back tied to the board. From each corner pieces of 2x4 meet in the middle forming a roof-like structure on the board. Myself and Dr Cox are stood on either side as counter balances to each other.

      I feel like the stilts are attached to my legs as we walk this bizarre contraption across the city. We hold onto incredibly long guide poles resting between the roofs of buildings seom 200 metres apart. They're not attached to the stilts by anything more than the two of us holding on.

      Inevitably we fall from the platform, spiralling round and down. Rather than yelling and panicking we calmly tell each other to grab this ledge, turn that way, try the next one. (In the back of mind something isn't right. IT's the fact that the camera has moved quite far away to take in the action, but our voices are still heard as though right next to me, as though badly dubbed. This is the disembodied second dreamer I was talking about).

      When we do grab a ledge, hanging off a small spire on a slanting roof we'#re fine, then suddenly realise how stupid that was and start yelling at each other. We calm down and start to look for something else.




      #2 Motorbike Suitcases

      I'm myself again, stood in Valencia with Rachel Green, it's an overcast evening. Recalls a bit sketchy but I do remember the air seemed to have grown heavier with each dream and the sky hung low with heavy clouds. The streets are filled with architecture from Medieval to Roman to Modernisme, all very European (you know I'm not really into architecture as a hobby but my dreams always have a very distinctive style relevant to the dream. I'm learning quite a bit in trying to describe the style in my DJ). The colours seem even more washed out than previous dreams, mainly differing shades of brown.



      We're walking near an open cobbled square with our cigarettes not quite sure if we're in the right time zone. All around us people are putting away there belingings in hatches beneath the street. Certain parts of the cobbles open up into vault like hatches, either swinging upwards or revealing a set of steps down to a shallow recess. They're everywhere, filled with shelves. Some have futuristic concoels, others are simply ornate lock and key systems.

      We approach the traffic lights when the sky cracks with thunder, the air pressing in all around us, electric. Rachel dashes across the street just before the traffic lights change back and I'm left waiting. I pull out my cigarettes, a brand of American Spirit Menthols I've never seen before, the pack dark blue. The filters are filled with large uniform holes, each pumping out smoke like a miniature factory. The camera zooms into high defition macro shots making the disembodied me yell something's wrong (for those who don't smoke, quite a few cigarette tabs are perforated to varying degrees to cool the smoke down and make it less harsh. I always cover them up personally which is a bit of a pain when you do come across them). As I light it I feel like The Shit - superpowered, and I stride across the street.

      On the other side I need to look for some underwear, but we don't have suitcases full of clothes, instead we have motorbikes.



      The engine block has been taken out and replaced with well crafted rigid plastic compartments that sit flush to the frame. As I shuffle through the angular compartments the air feels heavy, really heavy.

      Updated 08-09-2010 at 12:32 PM by 19709

      Categories
      non-lucid
    2. 05/08 Broken Teeth

      by , 08-07-2010 at 10:47 AM
      Broken Teeth

      Comment Dream Lucid

      I was stood outside my room. Inside my room was a wood panelled room, Godfather-esque. Various shady dealings went on inside. Outside however I was left to my own devices with a mirror. My teeth kept falling out, the entire left side of my mouth collapsed and I was left, vividly, with a handful of broken teeth. I'd look in the mirror and was able to open my mouth as wide as a cat to see the damage. I was terrified, showing people the handful of broken teeth, looking at the carnage in my mouth. It felt so real. I woke up petrified about my teeth and went straight to the supermarket and spent a tenner on toothpaste, mouthwash and toothbrushes.

      Updated 08-07-2010 at 02:09 PM by 19709

      Categories
      non-lucid
    3. 04/08 - Salt and Zebra Parrots

      by , 08-05-2010 at 03:15 PM
      Generally fuzzy recall

      Zebra Parrot

      A Macaw parrot, with patterns like a zebra, was stood inside a small circle of pebbles. It had a ritual of going round each pebble and rubbing the each side of it's beak on each pebble. I had the notion of MILDs floating around but quite how the two went together was beyond me.




      Salt

      I'm a detective in special branch. I've been on Salt's case for a while now, otherwise kown as Angelina Jolie. She's working as an assassin, in partnership with another unknown party. I've tracked her down to a warehouse, dispatching the guards along the way.

      When I get to her she calmy offers me a deal to become her partner. I guess she's pretty compelling because I accept immediately, however, I have to take out her current ally.

      I go to his warehouse (I guess assassins like warehouses). It's a large building with a second floor walkway suspended on high tension wires with a steel grill floor. The assassins henchmen come in two types, each stationed in pairs. The grunts wear yellow overalls and are pretty easy to kill from cover. The better trained commandos wear green overalls and require flanking manouevers, sometimes I need to get up close and personal. At the end is a tall dark store room, shelves packed to the rafters 15 metres above. It's here that the fighting gets fierce and I find the assassin, larger and dressed in blue overalls and holding Salt hostage. After killing him she reveals she's been playing me against a third person she might recruit. She's already leaked to him what I'm doing and where I am. The shouts outside start to echo through the building, his men are moving in, he hasn't come himself. More fighting, more killing, and I'm still standing.

      I have a plan, I arrest Salt and throw her into the back of an armoured police van, much to her displeasure. If he won't show up in person I need to lure him out, present a target he can't resist. In the driver's seat I put out an open channel police call that I'm bringing in Salt, all units to assist, knowing he'll pick up the message on a scanner. With most of his men dispatched he'd have to come do this himself.

      Barreling along a dark, industrial city street it turns out he does have some men left. Kicking open the back door of the van we have a high speed gun fight, flames everywhere. I've taken out the first assassin and his men, most of the second's men. He appears in a car, right in my sights. Everything is going to plan.
      Tags: iarpo
      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. 03/08/2010 - Ice Cream Motorcade

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:14 PM
      Ice Cream Motorcade

      On a council estate the ten armoured ice cream vans drive two abreast, a motorcade hogging the road. All the kids are chasing and laughing with glee.

      Inside the vans are ten clear containers of thick glass. Each a rounded cube with no visible way to open them. Each contains a mysterious and valuable thick brown syrup. They’re arranged in the same formation as the vans, two abreast and five deep.

      When one of the trucks crashes a cube of the liquid rolls over, splitting in two. The liquid holds it’s form for the most part, oozing at the speed of a glacier.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    5. 02/08/2010 - In The Closet

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:13 PM
      In The Closet

      We’re chasing the bus through East Morton, a small village I used to live in. The kids are there waiting for us. As we’re running there’s piles of processed meat in the road, like piles of horse muck. As we’re chasing the bus it runs over a few piles, meat exploding out and as we stamp on them the same happens. Mechanically reclaimed meat is splattered all over the road, graphic and in maximum high definition detail.

      [fragment missing]

      It’s the early 90’s in Leeds, we’re moving out of our house, boxes are piled everywhere. I only see one of the rooms, a sparse bedroom, brown textured wallpaper that probably started life cream hangs onto the wall. There’s a single bed, tall and worn, next to a glass front cabinet filled with shelves, maybe six feet tall.

      A new guy’s moving in, his hair black and floppy, wearing a striped knitted jumper - quite emo. He emerges from the adjoining room, conspicuous in it’s mystery, the door seeming more real than real. He’s not coming out with us, deciding instead to hide from someone. However he chooses to hide in the cabinet. The glass fronted cabinet, with small shelves. He presses himself in trying to close the door. Somehow he manages, the glass warping around his features. We stand looking at him, ridiculous. He ushers us on so as not to give him away - idiot. Though he did lend me a book on Gothic films.

      As we leave, another housemate says hello to me, inconspicuous and throwaway. But it’s laden with emotion, with unrequited love for me. It took all her confidence to say hi to me, that one word filled longing. I know this and make a mental note to talk to her next time I see her and check out is she’s hot. That’s for another time though, right now we have to leave.

      We step outside, the door to the bedroom leading immediately onto the street. The air’s heavy with imminent rain and electricity. It’s early 90’s, and as we walk to college the camera swoops high, taking in the vista of the city, everything subtly tinted sepia. It swoops here and there in impressive aerial shots before sweeping back down at the college, where we’re just arriving. We study advertising and one of my tutors is Jeff Goldblum.
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      Uncategorized
    6. 01/08/2010 - The Boretender

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:12 PM
      The bore-tender

      I'm stood in a large triangular bar, an old pub. Small red atmospheric lampshades dotted around, old oak all over, once varnished, now smooth and worn from hundreds of elbows, old trophies and photos pepper the walls. The bar itself makes fills most of them room, right in the centre serving from all sides. A plethora of bottles filled refracting the light, the amber liquids almost glowing.

      I'm the only one in the there, everyone else is in the beer garden outside drinking and having fun – it's a friendly, lively atmosphere. The bar tender's talking away to me, taking his time. I don't mind though, I'm enjoying my coffee, stirring in rich cream. He points to the TV on the wall in the corner, tells me his friend was in the TV show, but apparently he's a bit mental. He yammers on, I only half hear what he's saying. I can see my friends through the window drinking and having fun, getting the neighbouring table involved, wishing I was out there and getting a bit frustrated.

      He keeps on talking, the elderly bartender, white hair, in his red velvet waistcoat. He looks like part of the furnishings. Like the old wood he moves to a different time scale. I'm getting really frustrated now, why won't he just get my pints? I can't seem to get a word in edgeways, I'm stuck in here listening to him talking away while the fun's outside. Through the window everyone's laughing. Guess I'll never hear that punch line.

      My coffee starts to taste foul, like the cream's curdled and the coffee's burnt. This stupid old man. Just give me my pint – I'm your only customer! The coffee's disgusting. And he won't stop talking.
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      Uncategorized
    7. 29/07/2010 - Accidental Girlfriend

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:11 PM
      Accidental girlfriend

      I'm in a house full of people, all family and friends of my girlfriend. However my girlfriend is my real life ex's sister, and the worst bit is that I don't know which girl she is. So without wanting to lose face I try to navigate a busy house and try to figure out who's my girlfriend. I don't even want a girlfriend – how did this happen?

      I walk around giving pre-emptive smiles to pretty girls, trying a process of elimination, deflecting questions from her family about me and her. I finally think I've figured out who I think it is and call her name, she glares at me, wrong girl. The right girl however is behind me and didn't see my mistake. She leaps at me with a hug and plants a kiss on me. Ok, problem solved, I guess she's my girlfriend. She's quite hot, long blonde hair (I prefer brunettes), tall but not taller than me. She looks like a mash up of all the blonde mainstream actresses.

      It turns out she came into my room while I was asleep, woke me up and asked to be my girlfriend. In my confused state I say yes and run to the bathroom to pee.

      We blow the party off and go for a walk on the seafront. I've no idea where in the country we are but it feels southern, quite well to do. The populous look like aristocratic stock. It's dark, evidentally not a massive town, very little light pollution, I can see way more stars than in Leeds. We walk along but nowhere's really open. We stop for a smooch on the doorstep of a jewellers, white tiled floor, it's door facing the adjoining McDonalds.

      When we're finished we go into McDonalds but think better of it and leave, finding a small porch with a white tiled floor, the doors of the two businesses facing towards each other. Still hungry we go into the other door.

      Inside is a small, shabby, windowless room, a long Formica table nearly fills the space, there's maybe two feet between it and the wall. The only light is from a small TV in the corner, a grimy blue glow, eyes just able to see in the gloom. The air feels heavy and cloying. I'm sure this was very recently a living room in a shabby bedsit. We're knelt at the table, she's snuggled against me, content in our new home together.

      A customer walks in, dressed in a worn grey kimono. He orders the prawn noodles. I blink, realising I'm the chef in this debacle of a business. Problem is, I have no idea what I'm doing despite the massive menu we apparently offer. I look at the pictures in the menu for inspiration and turn to my stove, a crappy little camping stove, it's flame barely visible even in the gloom. I muddle around with a few ingredients, constantly scrutinised by the customer. He wasn't buying it, this super sleuth didn't believe I was a chef.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    8. 27/08/ 08/08 - Forgotten fragments

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:09 PM
      27/7

      Found notes:
      Farmyard Crime Stoppers: some kids prank call Raul Moat during negotiations.
      Taking the video home.
      Fighting giant things (still fairly harmless – like a Wallace and Gromit monster)
      Devil fight
      Football team
      Fake fight
      Video

      28/8

      Me and Jordan are watching a deep pink sunset. Everything is bathed in pink, it's beautiful. We sit stand there and bask in it.
      [fragment missing]
      Slimer (from Ghostbusters) tries to cut us off.
      Downstairs the living bodies are being tied up.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    9. 24/07/2010 - Cats and Cobbles

      by , 08-04-2010 at 08:08 PM
      Cats and cobbles

      I'm at work in the skatepark, the car park's been replaced with a cobbled courtyard. Outside it's night, some of the regulars are dressed as boy scouts, all crowded round a tall campfire. They've set up a tight rope over the fire, each taking it in turns to walk the rope and do tricks; somersaults and spins. As the fire spreads to the rope's support the line droops, becoming a slack line. The boys carry on, using it to add variation to their tricks, swinging in and out of the flames.

      Nearby are some talent scouts who've temporarily moved into the park, watching the guys on the rope, head hunting for the next big thing in skateboarding. I think I slept with one of them (women in skateboarding tend to come in two varieties:sour faced and stuck up or bubbly, busty and game)

      I start to have a look round and see the cobbled street extends further back, tall tudor houses with flower boxes line each side. Bright white plaster and painted black wood set an idyllic scene, the sun now high in the sky, locals milling around a market, a few tourists dotted amongst them.

      From one of the doors steps three clay animals, no more than a foot tall. Cartoon-esque, grey all over, one cat and two others I don’t remember. After milling about the market the cat was adopted by Quagmire from family guy. However he already had a bitch of a girlfriend and another cat creature, more advanced, futuristic and sleek, filled with servos and wires.

      [fragment missing]

      Quagmire’s house is pretty impressive, modern and expensive inside. In this particular room was the gym. The floor had a large raised area with wide french windows that looked out over the town. No need for curtains, the room was high enough to be hidden from view of the street. Exotic pot plants were dotted around between mini bars and modern sculptures. The lower section had state of the art gym equipment, chrome treadmills, weights, crosstrainers and a large mirror that led onto a steam room no doubt. In the night however, the room muted blue as moonlight streamed in through the large windows, the bitch girlfriend decided to try off the cat. She lunged for it, throwing it onto the tread mill. As it sailed through the air in slow motion the camera swooped low framing the cat in a close up and the woman, psychotic, in the background. To their surprise though, especially the cat’s, a single small sturdy dagger thunked out of each paw in place of claws. It landed on the treadmill and kept upright, maintaining purchase with it’s claws as it ran, thunk, thunk, thunk. In keeping up with the treadmill it survived, growing stronger and survived the night.
      Tags: iarpo
      Categories
      non-lucid