• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    The Fourth Factor

    What can I say? Some dreams just call out to be shared. I've always found it interesting to read about other people's dream lives, and now I'm giving them the same chance.

    1. Demons or Double Bass?

      by , 01-15-2020 at 12:33 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I am on a computer, looking through files. Iím trying to find papers from an earlier part of the dream where Iíd stayed after a math class drawing, and the teacher had brought over a stack of graded assignments heíd apparently been working on while I sat there. Iíd just glanced at them and seen thatíd Iíd done really well on them before taking off, but now I want a closer look, and this was apparently where they were.

      I scroll through small pictures, some of which began to move. One has expanded to fill the whole screen. It shows a house on fire, people running out. It scrolls past a small stage on which two double basses stand, one the traditional sort, another more metallic Ė electric by the look of it, but still a roughly double bass size and shape. It sits in a sort of flower-shaped metal pad. It catches my attention, and Iím struck by the level of detail.

      I am now Ė not sure in what order Ė both present in the dream and lucid. Iím in a park-like area, a clearing with groves of trees and some woods not far off. Another stage is nearby, this one a roofed circular platform on which sits another of those big electric basses. I consider giving it a try Ė that could be fun. But it occurs to me that Iíve never produced frightening scenarios in lucid dreams before, and I should try it at least once.

      Surrounded by demons is the first thing that occurs to me for some reason. Thatíll do. I will them into being. As I focus on the intention, everything around me grows dark, swirling and immaterial. Iím floating, moving vaguely backwards. But nothing else seems to be happening. Oh, well. Maybe Iíll give that bass a try after all.

      I let go of the intention. The original scene immediately returns, and I walk back towards the area I started out in. But not far from it, by a ridge in front of a forested area, I spot a strange figure. Its head looks like a skull, bovine in shape, with horns that curl around to the front and knot around each other, and itís wearing a black and white herringbone tweed blazer with a thin purple scarf and a long grey-black skirt. It looks like I managed something, at least, although I canít say itís especially scary.

      As I approach, it waves its hand, causing a small sphere of darkness to shoot towards me. This startles me a bit, but it doesnít seem to have any effect. I keep walking towards it, ignoring its attacks. As I pass the pavilion, I notice the instrument sitting there looks different now. There are also now a number of cats up under the roof, lying in big cat piles that seem to extend upward into tunnels. They seem to just be waking up. The grey and orange tabbies stay where they are, but a few black cats stretch and jump down onto the stage.

      As I turn back towards the figure, I see that it is now a cat as well Ė a small black one. I pick it up. It doesnít look happy with being held, but it makes no attempt to escape.

      At that point, I wake up.

      9.1.20
    2. Melody Fragments

      by , 05-29-2019 at 04:55 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I had a couple dreams with music in them last night, and was able to transcribe some of it. I had forgotten almost all of the dreams themselves by the time I'd finished, but here's what I have:



      And, from a later awakening:



      Couple interesting things about these: first, that they're both in D major, which is the scale I've been practicing speedwork on for the past three weeks or so. I don't have perfect pitch, so this suggests some kind of residual pitch memory at work.

      Also, they both seem familiar, particularly the second. I want to say it's from a rock song? But it's hard to tell whether music in dreams only seems familiar the way things in general seem familiar in dreams or because I've actually heard it before.
      Tags: music
      Categories
      non-lucid
    3. Aegean Geography

      by , 05-24-2019 at 02:41 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      The dream begins in large building of indefinite functionómostly a large, open space with various rooms branching off, somewhat like a mall, although it doesnít have the feel of one. At one point, I enter one of these rooms. Itís filled with plush toys of various kinds. On top of one cabinet is a series of small narwhals. One of them is gray and fuzzy, with a string going around it. On it are a few metal beads with letters on them spelling out a name. Itís exactly like one my friend Nina made for me when we were children, and it occurs to me that seeing it here can only mean one thing: Iím dreaming.

      I walk back out into the larger room, where I take a look around. The floor is made up of black and white tiles in a checkerboard pattern. I could have some fun with that. In response to my intention, the black tiles glow red, blue, a whole series of bright colors in succession. Then I decide to change things more dramatically. I simply intend for the floor to change, not specifying how, and in response, it shifts into an abstract pattern, tendrils of color curved across a white background, made out of smaller tiles than beforeólike a mosaic. Theyíre predominantly salmon pink with subdued green, as well as tiles in darker colors, which give the patterns depth and contrast.

      Looking across the large room, I see a wall of glass windows. Beyond it, the sky is visible, and a bit of the landscape below, as if this place is located somewhere high up. Some people are gathered out on a landing on the other side. I decide Iíll go over there next. But the floor is changing again: this time, into blues, greens, yellows, touches of orange. Itís a map nowóspecifically, a topographical map. I didnít do that.

      Rather than heading over to the windows, I examine the new floor. There are words written over locations, like they would be on an actual map, but there seems to be more written here than just names. However, the language is an unfamiliar oneópossibly Spanish. But, I think, that shouldnít be a problem for the place names since those tend to stay much the same between languages.

      I am standing over the part showing the Aegean Sea. The island directly in front of me is labeled 'Mykonos'óand memory tells me (and Google confirms once Iíve awakened) that it does indeed have that islandís distinctive shape. I look over near the Turkish coast, but the islands there donít match up nearly as well. They don't even seem to be the same islands at all. I look around various areas of the map until I wake up.

      22.5.19
      Categories
      lucid
    4. Cold Water Casino

      by , 05-15-2019 at 03:06 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím on a trip with my parents and an unfamiliar young man. We were all supposed to go to a casinoóand they did actually go. But I didnít care much for that plan, and so Iíve been off doing something else and only arrived back at the hotel room in time for their last trip there, late on the final evening.

      I have the impression that this is a place theyíre familiar with, but this will be my first time there. Iíve been told not to bring my purse with me for whatever reason, but I donít like going around without writing materials on hand, and so I say that Iíll just take my wallet out before I go. But it seems my parents are so eager to get back that, rather than waiting the couple of minutes this will take, they go on without me, leaving the young man to drive us there.

      Outside, itís raining hard, and has been for a while, judging by all the standing water in the streets. As we go on, it only gets deeper, until the car, which is a fairly low one, starts having trouble moving forward. Some light on the dashboard has come on. He curses at the caróand quite probably my parents, who would have had no trouble handling this in theirs. I suggest that we just pull off the road onto higher ground, as some other cars seem to be doing, and walk the rest of the way there. It isnít very far. He agrees to it.

      The next part I remember clearly is being inside the casino, in a large room with a grand staircase, crowded with fancily dressed people. On the upper floor, near a restaurant area, I meet up with my parents again. Itís sort of like a buffet, with tables in a horseshoe shape, each one with an attendant behind them, offering samples of various kinds of foods to the guests. Mother is going to get a chocolate milkshakeóapparently, a favorite of hers thereóbut my father isnít interested. The idea doesnít appeal much to me either, and anyways, this is all new to me: I want to try things out before I order anything.

      He heads off somewhere else. I get some kind of a soup, and then head over to where theyíre serving white wine. I try the sample they have there, which is pretty goodóbut they have all kinds of interesting drinks here, and this would be a good chance to try things I wouldnít necessarily want a full glass of. And my mother is trying to get my attention from across the room, so I leave the table without ordering anything and head over in her direction.

      Then, suddenly, I feel a spray of cold wateróand the people around me do as well, judging by how theyíre crying out. It seems someone is spraying people with a hose. I move out of the way, wondering what that was about. Maybe the casino staff themselves are responsible. The whole reason this place exists is to take money from people, after allóI think itís best not to lose sight of thatóand it wouldnít surprise me at all for one to start charging people to keep things going nicely, once theyíve got them used to it.

      Once out of range, I pause and kneel down to make sure the cat is still with me. He is indeed still there and comes to get pet. Heís an orange cat, an adult, though on the small side, and has been here with me this whole time. So far, nobody has noticed himóor else they just donít care. But itís still a little dangerous for him to be here with me, and so Iíve been making sure he stays close, waiting until I feel him against the back of my ankles before moving on.

      11.5.19
      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. The Moon above a Grove of Palms

      by , 12-09-2018 at 07:41 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      As usual, I seem to have become aware that Iím dreaming without being able to remember how it happened. Iím in a house along with two other people. I believe that theyíre other dreamersónot sure now on what basis.

      In one part early on, Iím looking at a still scene in front of me, like a picture. It takes me a couple minutes to puzzle out whatís happening in it. A young man is shown looking into a body of water like a lake. The sky is colorful and full of varied light, with a couple odd-shaped clouds in the foreground. I figure out that the cloud that looks like a unicornís head is going towards the cloud shaped like a dragonís, which represents an attack on the sun by the moon, and the man is watching it through the reflections in the water.

      When Iíve realized this, the scene comes to life in front of me. The clouds converge, and the sky darkens, with the moon appearing. It behaves strangely at first before taking up a normal course in the sky. The man gets up and heads in the direction it has gone. Heís going to try to fix the situation.

      A lot of the dream faded from memory when I woke up, but in the subsequent parts, I was with the two dreamers. I only remember one person well, a guy. He is apparently already familiar with this legendóI get the impression he knows a lot of them.

      At some point quite a bit later on, the others are somewhere else, fighting a monster of some kind. I guess some people donít feel like theyíve really accomplished something unless thereís an epic boss battle at the endóbut I just donít find those things very interesting. While thatís going on, Iím standing near a grove of palm trees, above which the moon is floating in the form of a little, glowing crescent shape. Once we get ahold of that, weíve won. According to the man, however, thereís something odd about the palm leaves, and a person will die if they touch them. But they just look like normal palm leaves to me, and so I figure Iíll take my chances with them. Anyway, I can fly in from above and avoid the leaves that way.

      First step: make wings. Iíve been using shortcuts so much lately I figure that this time, Iíll do the full procedure like I used to. I stand facing my shadow on the ground, and will it to grow wings. Immediately, I see them unfolding, and unfolding further, out to their usual considerable span.

      But this timeóperhaps in response to my wanting to get a better view of what happens when I do thisóthere are also reflective surfaces nearby, although I canít say now just what they were. I can see the wings themselves reflected in themóand since Iíve never set an intention for anything beyond generic wings, itís a bit of a surprise to see how theyíre turning outóred-gold in color, and faintly glowing. I climb up onto a nearby objectóagain, I canít remember specifically what it wasóand from there, hover over to the trees and grab the crescent moon.

      In the process, though, I brush the tips of a couple palm leaves. And, perhaps because of tható or perhaps notó I soon find the dream fading around me until Iím in complete darkness. Iím still lucid, though. It feels as if Iím moving forward, but with nothing visible except for occasional faint shapes in the darkness, itís impossible to tellóor, for that matter, tell how much time is passing. But after a while, I feel like itís a good time to go back. I open my eyes, intending to be in the previous setting.

      And Iím there, as before, and so are the two people. I can remember even less of this later part than I can the previous oneóalthough I can recall the second person definitely being female in this one, whereas I can remember nothing at all about them from the first. Thereís a series of events involving a deep pit filled with boiling water that opened up in the house. At some later part, the others seem to have lost lucidity. They're acting somewhat zombie-like, and are unresponsive to my efforts to get their attention. Not long after that, I wake up.

      8.12.18
    6. In Media Res

      by , 12-03-2018 at 04:58 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Itís sometimes disappointing to wake up with only fragmented memories of dreamsóbut sometimes, trying to image what the context might have been is almost worth it.

      In the beginning of the dream, Iím walking into a building. Many people are already thereóit seems like some event is taking place, possibly multiple events. A couple men are entering at the same time as I am. One of them seems to be able to see meóalthough he doesnít say anything to meóand the other doesnít. Iím keeping track of the people who are able to see me since Iím really not supposed to be here, and Iím trying to keep a low profile.

      The space Iím entering is basically a circular building with a separate central area, although the specifics kept changing throughout the dream. The first area I walk through, going clockwise, seems to be a restaurant. I pass people sitting at tables, including one thatís occupied by dreadlocked guys dressed in Jamaican colors who seem to be having a lot of fun.

      [Note: today, the day after the dream, I was given a story to work on about reggae becoming a UNESCO intangible cultural heritageóso maybe thatís what they were so happy about.]

      There was a lot that happened after that, most of which I canít remember very clearly. But, towards the end, the space was like an auditorium, with a lecture area in the center and areas for students to sit all around it and higher up. I had put the table I had surreptitiously borrowed from Nancy Pelosi among the tables in the student area while I went and did some other stuff, but in the meantime, students had come in, including my friend Dirk. And somebody, noticing that the table is more wheelchair-friendly than the standard tables there, which have metal bars crisscrossed underneath them, has set him up with it.

      Now, I had totally been intending to give Nancy Pelosi her table back. Itís what I came back here to do. But Dirk is clearly getting some good out of it. Also, Nancy Pelosi was more of a jerk than I had expected. I figure she can just buy a new table or something.

      1.12.18
    7. Interdimensional Bathhouse; Music Box #5

      by , 11-12-2018 at 03:15 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím in what seems to be a bathhouseóa basic, no-frills rectangular room with a concrete floor, on the large side, with a number of small pools and folding screens that can be moved around. Although the setting also seemed shifty and indefinite in a more basic wayóa ďI had this dream early in the nightĒ kind of way.

      Weird things are constantly happening there, strange figures materializing and disappearing again in a sort of timeless convergence - it almost seems like there's nothing outside of this place, even though in one sense I arrived here at a definite point of time - but nobody else seems aware of it. But this is normal: I hadnít been able to see them once, but I had been through a long processóall of it, every stage. I go over it in memory: some parts of it had been unpleasant or even frightening, but thereís nothing frightening about it now that I can see the whole of it instead of just pieces. Itís familiaróit even feels like home somehow.

      I seem to have come here with two young women, and at some pointóitís very difficult to say what order things happened in in this dreamóI say to one that this is a special place, that you can feel it in the atmosphere. Iím curious if she can feel it too, on some level. At some other point, perhaps earlier or perhaps later, one asks me if thereís anyone here Iím interested in romantically. I say that there is one person, but Iíve only spoken to him a couple times. And he hasnít shown up here for a couple hundred years nowóbut I feel itís best not to mention that.

      Also, at one point, one of them is arranging stuff around a pool we're going to use. There isn't enough space for two people to do it without getting in each other's way, but I don't want to just sit there, so I clean up some of the central area at the same time.

      Later on, towards morning, I have another dream. Iím now in a large house with my bouzouki instructor for a lesson. I have the impression that itís not his house or mineóthat heís an employee here. There are interruptions to our lessonówe have to temporarily leave the house at one point and go somewhere else in a car.

      But we do make it back inside eventually, and he tells me to go get something. He gives me directions to the room and tells me to get #5, indicating approximately where in the room Iíll be able to find it.

      Itís only a few rooms away, and I make it there without difficulty. It wouldnít be an exaggeration to call this house a mansion, but the room I now find myself in wouldnít be out of place in a palace. Itís richly decorated, 18th-century style, in blue and silver. Thereís another doorway on the other end, and one of the longer walls, to my left, is covered with shelves, all of which are lined with ornate silver music boxes. Theyíre all individually numbered, and #5 is one of the farthest to the left, about mid-way up.

      It occurs to me that people who decorate rooms like this usually donít like other people coming in and messing with them. But, at the same time, this place has the look of an archive. It will probably be OK, then. I take the music box off the shelf. It has its number and what seems to be some notes about it carved onto the top in a rather messy handwriting.

      I open it thereóbut unfortunately, I canít really remember what happened then, although the dream kept going. Before carrying it back, I notice what looks like a bone flute lying on the floor, the only thing out of place here. Perhaps a child was playing with it and left it there, I think.

      (8.11.18)
    8. Space Rock Treasure

      by , 10-22-2018 at 03:04 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím at the counter of a coffee shop that looks like one in a town not far from where I work. They seem to be selling small squares of chocolate cake, and I decide Iíll get one with my espresso. Iím hoping that it will be less expensive than their big slices of cake. But the total comes out to a little more than $10ómeaning it was actually quite a bit more expensive. The woman behind the counter tells me that, if the total comes up to just a little more, which it would if I ordered a different kind of coffeeóbut actually, I canít seem to get her to explain whatís supposed to happen and why it would be a good thing.

      After a couple attempts, though, it occurs to me that Iím probably dreamingópossibly just because it was one of those rare scenarios - rare for me, anyway - thatís enough like waking life to where the differences are obvious. I look around the room. I have just enough time to observe that this is actually quite a good rendition of the waking life location before my vision starts fading.

      I head for the door, and stepping outside seems to fix the problem. I can see just fine here. Iím now on a street thatís a little reminiscent of the waking life one that Iíd expect to be here, but more vibrant and interesting. But I donít stick around: I start running down the street, then flapping the wings I know will be there when I want them to be, then flying.

      I rise higher, above the treetops, then make a strange kind of turnóI ought to be flying straight up, but somehow Iím parallel to the ground in a different location. I seem to be above a forest now, and above me is the evening sky. Thereís sort of a natural path here, a groove where the foliage is lower, and I fly along it. I pass a lamppost on my right. Itís an interesting thing, very modern-lookingójust a smooth, cylindrical pole with a vertical slit near the top that has purple light shining through it. I note that it would be completely useless from the groundóalmost as if this is a real trail Iím flying along, and it's lighting it.

      Was there anything I was planning to do next time I had a lucid dream? The only thing I can think of is actually looking at my wings. I never seem to think of it untilólike nowóIím already in the air. Oh, well.

      In the sky, above and ahead of me, I can see a red lightóreally, more like a small circle of lights. I figure Iíll go see what it is. That might be interesting.

      I fly towards it. Pretty soon, thereís nothing in my field of vision but sky and the red light. It will be harder to maintain lucidity with nothing more solid to focus on, I know, and so I increase my concentration.

      Once Iím closer to it, I can see what it is: a meteor, headed down towards the earth. I wonder if I should try to keep it from hitting. I aim myself towards it, but miss and end up behind it. I fly back down towards it, manage to catch up, but miss it that time, too. But, as I happen to glance at the fields below, I spot chunks of broken-up rocks in a few places. They look like the same type of rock the meteor is made of. And it isnít a very big oneóonly about half my height. Maybe this isnít something to worry about, thenóthis is something that happens all the time here.

      I watch as it hits and breaks apart and then land to get a closer look. Among the fragments is a pile of colorful rocks. Some look like red and white crystals, some like turquoises, others like amethyst geodes. I gather them up.

      I notice that someoneís nearbyóan Asian man, maybe in his 20s. It occurs to me that he might want some of the rocksóand really, I donít have any claim to them. I was just the first person to get here. I offer him some. He says heís only interested in the turquoises right now and picks one outóa particularly smooth oneóand sets it among a large number of others he has in a bag. I insist that he take another one, too, but then wake up soon after that.

      (8.10.18)
      Categories
      lucid
    9. Unison

      by , 10-04-2018 at 04:07 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      The dream starts out with a scenario very much like the waking one I must have just left: having trouble getting to sleep. Iím initially on a thin mat on the floor of a room in a house, in a sleeping bag, but I give up and move the sleeping bag to the couch, where I do finally manage to fall asleep.

      The dream I subsequently find myself in is a lucid one. It went on for long enough to where entire segments of it have faded from memory, and Iím no longer entirely sure whether I have the order of the things right. But here goes.

      The earliest parts, probably, were of flying over a city at night. Iím just looking around, observing my surroundings. I spot a brightly lit areaótennis courtsóand fly down. But as Iím getting close, the lights suddenly turn off, leaving me in the dark. I imagine my wingsówhich Iíve been doing without until nowóand use them to propel myself up from just above the ground. But not long after that, I figure that it might be better to walkóthere are people Iím looking for here, and it might be easier to find them down there. So I land and continue going that way.

      This city seems to be a modern one, and the area I'm in is well lit. To my right, I spot a large building that looks like a hotel, and further on is another one. No people around, though. I pause to examine some graffiti carved into the gray paint of a metal pillar, possibly supporting an overpass. Most of it is illegible scribbles, but I distinctly read the name ďJosephĒ.

      Nobody else seems to be walking around. I do eventually spot some people (specifically, four guys and a ferret) through the glass-walled corner of a building and have a brief conversation with them, but it seems to cut off partway through, and I find myself as a disembodied point of view, looking at a bunch of grapes. Theyíre hanging on a vine thatís grown around a tree in a forest. I remember reading something on Dreamviews about being able to play with the perspective of visual imageryóand thereís no way in hell Iím going to be able to visualize that well while awake, so I figure Iíll try it now. I find I can change the angle just by intending to, can zoom in and have a closer look. Even close, it looks incredibly realistic.

      But before I can get even closer, thereís another transition, and I find myself in a house. Iím near a large windowóI canít see anything outside since itís light inside and dark outside, and it just looks black, but I figure Iíll jump through it and see what happens.

      I jump straight through the glass as if it wasnít there and find that what I saw before was actually accurateóthere really is nothing here but featureless darkness. I donít even seem to have a body anymore. I consider the situation. Iím not worried about waking up: I recall that I spent quite a while lying awake before thisóhaving correctly remembered my waking life circumstances rather than mistaking the dream I fell asleep in for real, which isn't always what happens in these situationsóand so Iíll still be catching up on sleep.

      The idea occurs to me to sing a song, one I remember singing in choir when I was a kid. I then think that itís kind of a silly songówhy would I want to do that? But no, itís better to go with my first thought. Itís probably the right oneóitís better not to second-guess this kind of thing. And so I sing it there.

      Long ago, in a far off land,
      Lived a child who loved to sing.
      She opens up her fragile heart,
      And the song, it takes wingÖ


      Although itís not exactly like Iím singing it, since I still seem to be somewhat disembodied. Iím surprised by how good my voice sounds here, though. It resonates in a way I wasnít expecting in a space that appears to be a complete void.

      At some point after that, after some unknown transition, I seem to be in the same house as before, just looking around. It has multiple floors, and above one staircase, I find what appears to be a clock playing a waltz-like melody. It sounds a bit like a calliope.

      As I listen, it occurs to me to try another experiment. I clear my mind, getting everything else out of the way, then wordlessly sing, improvising a melody that might come after what I've already heard. And I find that what I'm singing exactly matches the tune the calliope clock is playing. It's as if, one way or another, weíre drawing from the same source, which is fascinating. So it is just me after all.

      Thereís quite a bit that happened after that, most of it involving the man who lived in the houseóbut, unfortunately, I can only remember the very end, as he was walking out. Shortly after that, I wake up.

      (3.10.18)
      Categories
      lucid
    10. In a Dark Place

      by , 09-09-2018 at 02:45 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      There is a womanósome dark entity had reached out for her, badly frightening her. She has shut herself away somewhere to get away from it, but it can still reach her. I can hear her screaming thereóbut Iím on my way to help her.

      The first thing I have to do is get out of a sort of wooden elevator running down the center of the building. I seem to have entered this way, going down, but none of the doors are opening. Somehow, I can see perfectly fine into the space beyond the shaft, but the walls are definitely there, and the doors are not only solid but quite heavy. Iím alone here in the elevator, but in communication with someone elseósomeone I know to be my mother, although she isnít my actual, waking life mother. She seems to be playing some kind of guiding or teaching role.

      Above my head, everything just fades into darkness, like the heights of a cavern. Apparently, it doesnít occur to most people who come here to look up for a while, and so this comes as a bit of a shock to them, but I can remember having been through this series of events before, and so this place holds no surprises for me. Besides that, I have access to a deeper understanding of the space Iím in: itís defined by solfege, as if the intervals and their syllables are acting as some kind of abstract structural parameters, and they are also structuring what I am able to do in it and do to it.

      Once I finally manage to get out, I find myself in what seems to be an iteration of my old house in M---. This version looks twisted, hollowed out, darkóactually, there doesnít seem to be a source of light anywhere, which would explain why, even though I feel vividly present here, it has an odd visual quality to it, and the only non-black color I can see here is blue. Iím using night vision. The blue is brightest in the fog hovering throughout the house, moving as though stirred by currents of air. When this fog is concentrated, it indicates the presence of a ghostóor perhaps it simply is the ghost.

      This whole place gives off a decidedly creepy vibeóa palpable sense of decay and malevolence. But the fact that I already know where all the dangers are takes the edge off the creepiness, as does the fact that this seems to be a case where there is no outcome but success. I already know things are going to turn out fine, and so I donít let the place bother me too much.

      Now the person who is my mother is physically here with me, a couple rooms awayóalthough, either because the walls are in ruins or because I can see through these ones too, sheís still visible from where Iím looking around the living room. Nothing much seems to be happening at the moment. Iím just keeping an eye on the blue fog. There are some mirrors there in the room: I use them to check my form as I practice jumping from side to side, moving between stances I might need to use later.

      (7.9.18)
    11. The Big Picture

      by , 09-01-2018 at 02:35 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      In this dream, I seem to have been selected to contribute to some collaborative project that has to do with ďGame of ThronesĒ and a couple of prominent political figures, including Trump. I think there are 25 of us in all, but I donít actually meet with the othersóI just have an interview with someone, and thatís it. Itís in a large, modern building, and I recall being in an elevator at some point, deciding that Iíll go to join the others and see the complete work. It seems a little strange to me that I should be playing a part in thisóI havenít watched or read ďGame of Thrones,Ē and I donít seem to be personally involved in these matters the way everybody else is. But Iím curious enough to go anyway.

      I join the others in a room with a large screen on one wall. Itís divided up into smaller rectangles of various sizes and proportions on which video loops are being played. I can see my own contribution among them, in the upper central area, showing the collapse of a temple-like building with hundreds of statues in front of it, among other images.

      Then it starts playing, and my part comes first. In the narration, I recognize what I had said in the interview, now in a more polished form. Itís now clear that what I provided was the prologue, tracing out the historical background of the story told in all the subsequent parts, setting the stage for it. That makes a lot of sense, actuallyónow I can see how itís relevant, even though it doesnít directly concern the characters that the story is focused on.

      (30.8.18)
      Categories
      non-lucid
    12. From Map to Territory

      by , 08-09-2018 at 04:11 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      In the earliest part of the dream I can remember, I'm reading a news article online. Itís about an odd discovery that was recently madeówhat seemed to be a fossilized person on a bicycle.

      I pull up a map website so that I can have a better idea of where the places Iím reading about are. It starts off as a map of Europeómore or less. The only major difference I can remember was seeing a series of small countries along the (more or less) Baltic Coast.

      The place Iím interested in is further west of that, around Luxembourg, I'd say. I zoom in until itís more like looking at a satellite map, and I can see the spot the story is talking about: a place in the woods where the grass gives way to gray rock, and in the rock, the figure of the cyclist can be clearly seen in profile, looking rather cartoonish.

      I look up and find Iím not looking at a screen on a computer anymore: Iím actually there in the forest. And thereís only one way thatís possible: Iím dreaming.

      The gray rock isnít there anymore. Thereís just forest in every directionódeciduous forest, with foliage that isnít so thick it blocks out the sunlight. I pick a direction and start walking, not having any particular goal in mind.

      The forest is quiet and still: there donít seem to be any animals around. The only notable feature of this place is the mushrooms I see growing in small groups among the undergrowth every few meters. Theyíre red with white spotsóobviously fly-agaric. I recall a recent discussion on DreamViews about hallucinogens in lucid dreams: what would happen if I ate one? Iíve never been curious enough to try it beforeóI wasnít even curious enough to read the thread, for that matteróbut here they are, and here I am. Guess Iím going to find out.

      I get down close to a group of them, pull a piece off a small one and put it in my mouth. But then I see that the mushrooms arenít mushrooms anymore: theyíre red flowers now, poppies by the looks of it. Still in an experimental frame of mind, I pull off some petals and chew on them. Theyíre completely flavorless and slightly cool. It is an extraordinarily realistic experience of eating flower petals.

      Shortly afterwards, I wake up.

      (7.8.18)
    13. A King and a Cat

      by , 08-03-2018 at 02:44 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I start out in an apartment that seems to be mine, but doesnít resemble anywhere Iíve ever lived. Hearing a commotion outside, I go out to investigate. I walk across a grassy lawn to where it overhangs a sidewalk. It seems coming from the direction of the train station, which is just down the street. I recall that today is the day the king is supposed to return from a trip abroad: there are probably many people there to greet him.

      Sure enough, I soon see him walking by, just like any other person might, alone except for three dogs. One of the dogs, a large and muscular one, is headed directly my way. Iím not threatened by it, though: I don't read any aggression in its behavior, only curiosity.

      Itís sniffing me over as he approaches to get it back under control. We exchange a few words. He knows who I amóI get the impression this country is on the small side, and he probably knows everyone hereóand he says that heís honored that Iím residing in his country (I am a foreigner here and not a citizen). He tells me he's happy to be the host of someone favored by the cat god. This is a chaotic, cat-like being that comes aroundólike any other catówhen it feels like it and not before. It appears to have taken a liking to me, and thereís now some kind of deeper bond between us. It also seems to be associated with the key of B major, whatever that means.

      The king is about to leave, but the dog breaks away again to continue to inspect me. He once again gets it under control and asks in a casual way what a sky bicycle actually looks like. This odd form of transportation has to do with the cat somehowóthe thing apparently has a whole mythology of its own. I reply that I donít know, as sky bicycles only take a definite form when several people are looking at one at the same time.

      (31.7.18)
      Categories
      non-lucid
    14. Conversations with Critters

      by , 07-31-2018 at 02:06 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I manage to maintain awareness while falling asleep quite early in the night and find myself in a house. As with most lucid dreams that are on the long side and include a lot of conversation, I can only remember some parts of it clearly, and without clear context.

      The house is not a familiar one, although its layout seems slightly reminiscent of Katyaís house. Iím in what would be the front room with two other peopleóone man and one womanóand three dogs. I can feel a connection with one of the dogsóa medium-sized one, possibly a Border Collieóand I sense that heís somehow mediating between me and the rest of the dream. I think itís likely that the other dogs were doing the same for the other people and somehow making it possible for us to be together here.

      One of the dogs is briefing us all about something. Heís a very large dog with short hair, probably a Great Dane. He communicates with us for a whileóI donít think he actually spoke, but my memory is fuzzy on how it happened. At one point, he mentions something about a llama farm, then cuts himself off and lays down. I realized this was something he didnít want me and the other woman to know about, but he had let it slip, and now heís sad about it. He refuses to say anything else, so I go into an adjoining room so he can talk to the man in private. In the meantime, I strike up a conversation with a bird on the windowsill.

      Itís a small bird, a bit like a titmouse but pure white. It seems friendly, and has an odd habit of repeating each phrase after it says it. After a bit, it flies off: itís decided it wants to catch me some kind of small marine crustacean that it eatsóas a kind of gift, I suppose. Aww.

      (26.7.18)
      Tags: birds, dogs, gift, house
      Categories
      lucid
    15. Greensleeves, Green Door

      by , 07-13-2018 at 01:18 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      As usual, I find myself lucid in a dream without being able to remember how it happened. I am on a stage, a raised platform at one end of a tall, rectangular room with no windows and a door at the far endópicture a racquetball court and youíll have a pretty good idea of the layout and size. The area where I am is lit while the area where the audience is sitting is darker, with some light shining in from the doorway.

      Iím singing up here and simultaneously trying my hardest to get my bouzouki to show up so I can accompany myself on it. I look around the stage area periodically, whenever I get the chance, but it just doesnít seem to be turning up. I notice a couple guys in the audience heading for the door. Annoyed, I will them back to their seats, but they seem to sense what Iím doing and bolt. Oh, well.

      In the meantime, though, my efforts to materialize myself some accompaniment seem to have paid off. There is now an array of stringed and fretted instruments in the center of the stage, a dozen or so, leaning against stands or lying on chairs. Many of them are exotic instruments I donít recognize, and unfortunately, there doesnít seem to be a bouzouki among them. I settle for the closest matchó some kind of lute, judging by the angled neck and larger body. Maybe I can intend it to have a string configuration I can work with. I pick it up and sit down in the chair it was on to play. I was singing ďGreensleevesĒ before, and so I start again from the beginning, this time accompanying myself.

      Alas, my love, you do me wrong
      To cast me off discourteouslyÖ

      This is more like it. It seems to work best if I donít focus too much on what Iím doing with my hands and let it take care of itself, like a spot of localized non-lucidity.

      Partway through the song, though, I find myself in another roomóthere seems to be a small memory gap, but Iím guessing this was a false awakening I managed to identify as another dream straightaway. This room is very similar to the one I was just inóit could be the same one if not for the lack of a raised stage area and the fact that there is now a door where the opening was. Itís a metal door painted bright green.

      The room is empty apart from a mat on the floor which is furnished like a bed. Looking at it stirs faint memories of sleepovers with friendsónice memories, ones I havenít thought about in a long time. Much of the wooden floor is covered by a rug patterned with dragonsóthe Asian sortóin red, blue and green. As I look at it, they move and shift in mesmerizing ways, and the perspective flattens a little as the rug occupies my field of vision. I think to myself: Iím dreaming, Iím dreaming. I donít want to get so absorbed in it that I lose awareness.

      I look away to consider the door and what might be beyond it. Thoughts come to meómemories, almost, if I took them more seriouslyóof rooms and people beyond. But thatís a rather serious-looking door.

      I wake up.

      (11.7.18)
      Categories
      lucid
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