• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Lucid Dreams

    1. 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
    2. What a Rude Statue

      by , 07-05-2018 at 01:35 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      The dream seemed to begin like some sort of flight simulator game, butóafter a series of events I can no longer rememberóI realize Iím dreaming.

      Iím in an unfamiliar city. Itís a place with a charming atmosphereólots of greenery and a small harbor that almost divides it in two, with the main part of the city built on a hill with a steep incline. I flyówithout my customary wings, since I was already flying to begin withóenjoying my surroundings. Every corner I turn results in a new, interesting view as I circle around, gradually moving up the hill.

      At one point, I notice a series of staircases to my right leading directly to the hilltop. It reminds me a little of the Bergparkóand that gives me an idea. I could find the Herkules statue and have a conversation with him. That would be an interesting thing to do in a dream.

      I fly up the staircases and find myself in a small park where a number of people are walking around. There is no Herkules Statue, but I do see a statue slightly off to the leftóalthough monument might be the better word since itís basically just a bronze head on a pedestal, a man wearing what looks like a conquistador helmet.

      I walk over to it, look at the head and ask: ďSo, is there anything you want to say to me?Ē

      The head comes to life. It says: ďWhat the f*** are you doing here?Ē in what is quite possibly a Cockney accent. Iím a bit taken aback but still proceed to have a conversation with himóas best I can. Iím finding the accent difficult, and the background noise from the other people here isnít helping.

      After a bit, three young women come up and join in the conversation. I recognize them the way one normally recognizes people in non-lucid dreams, although none of them seem to be people familiar to me in waking life. The only one whose appearance I can remember was a middle-eastern looking woman with thick, dark hair going down a little past her shoulders. Unfortunately, pretty much everything we said there faded from memory by the time I woke up.

      As the conversation ends, the bronze head offers to kiss a coin for each of usóthis seems to be a good luck ritual of the sort that often develops around statues. The others produce coins, and I figure Iíll go along with it, too. Without looking, I stick my hand into a pocket which I expect I haveóeven though I donít ordinarily wear clothing with pockets where this would be possible, itís a pretty reliable method of materializing objects that might conceivably be in one. I feel around the various objects there for a coin. As I do, I recall the Soviet Kopeck that mysteriously turned up in my last batch of laundryómy aunt had been washing some really old stuff, I guessóand, unsurprisingly, thatís what the coin I eventually find turns out to be.

      Once thatís over, Iím once again faced with the decision of what to do. As I fly back down the hillside, it occurs to me that this might be a good opportunity to find my Lamas and talk to them. I fly all the way down to the harbor and, since the ground is flat here, I land and walk. I call out their names and try to find them among the crowd, or among the people on the boats. But I donít see them there, and before long, I wake up.

      (3.7.18)
      Categories
      lucid
    3. Interrupted Lesson; Beyond the Outskirts

      by , 06-21-2018 at 01:44 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím in a study, sitting at a desk facing a wall. A man is sitting to my left. This seems to be some kind of music lesson: we have sheets of manuscript paper in front of us, and Iím doing some sort of exercise where I fill in bits of the melodies that arenít written. Iím having trouble figuring out how to notate the rhythm I have in mind, but after moving to something else for a little while, I come back and manage it easily. I write the notes in with a red pen, very neatly.

      The lessonís almost over when a young girl, 7 or 8, runs into the room and lies down on the desk in front of usóthe manís daughter. She seems to be in a silly mood. She speaks to him in German - we've been speaking English until now - and he answers. She moves across the room, and they have an exchange in which he asks her questions, but she just gives nonsense answers and giggles (and totally ignores me). I just watch and pet the cat, a gray tabby thatís also entered the room, not at all put out by the interruption. Before long, a woman who seems to be a nanny comes in, presumably for the girl.

      I wake up.

      In the next dream, Iím staying in a large hotel with my parents. As I walk through the lobby, towards the staircase, I see a number of men dressed in suits of armor decorated with intricate patterns and women in white ballerinaís outfits with similar patterns in silver. Some sort of wedding party, I figure.

      After a quick trip to the room, which is at the end of a hallway, my mother and I seem to be walking out, away from the city center and towards the outskirts. This is WilhelmshŲhe, apparentlyóalthough it would be hard to find a place that looks less like the actual place of that name. Thereís less and less to see as we walk along. Less traffic, too. A man drives a horse-drawn carriage past and gives us a peculiar look. Somehow, I have the feeling that weíre expected here, and heís a part of it.

      And, an unknown period of time after that, Iíve been transported to a different place, a large building full of people getting ready to something to begin. Iím a part of it, too, now. A man is explaining to me whatís going on in a mixture of French and German. That seems to be the norm here, and I slip into it too as I speak with him.

      I comment at one point that something he just said sounded more like how people talk in movies than in real lifeóor dreams, I add. Because I do know itís a dream by now, although Iím not sure just when the realization hit me. But Iím going along with it because it looks like some interesting and possibly important things are going on here.

      Unusually for a lucid dream, it was difficult to remember much of what happenedósome details stood out, but a lot of it just blurred together. The man Iíve been talking to seems to be in charge and has us carry out different tasks, and give answers to questions. I seem to be apart from the others somehow, involved, but playing a different role.

      (17.6.18)
      Categories
      lucid , non-lucid
    4. The Gifts You've Been Given

      by , 04-13-2018 at 12:55 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím an observer watching a scene unfold on a boatóbut really, itís more that Iím looking at it and the people on deck while being aware of the situation playing out there in a more abstract way. There are some documents I need for traveling on this boat, and Iím not sure if I have them or if I need to go through some process to get them.

      The scene shiftsóIím now exiting a bus. But instead of winding up outside as I had expected, Iíve simply stepped onto another bus. I quickly take a seat behind the two women who entered ahead of me and wonder where this one is going to take me.

      The scene shifts againóthis time, Iím waking up in the back of a car my parents are driving. It feels as if Iím younger in this one. Weíve just stopped by a building I recognize as the one where my fatherís workshop is. That means weíre not far from home now. I fall back asleep.

      The scene shifts yet againóthis time, Iím in a grocery store. And this time, I know itís a dream, although I still seem to think the last bit with the car was waking reality. I think it would be best if I sleep for the remainder of the trip, and so that means making sure this dream lasts.

      I look around. There donít seem to be anyone here but me. It's reminiscent of the specialty grocerís down the street from my old flat on Svornosti. That means there should be a counter over in the corner where I can get some coffee.

      I go over and find the counter is there, and that thereís somebody behind it. Thereís nothing displaying prices, so I just put down three bills, possibly dollars, which seems like a more than fair price. But the woman tells me I have to make the coffee myself using the machine there. Itís an odd contraption, like no coffee maker Iíve ever used, but after messing around for it a bit, I get it to pour some coffee out - Turkish style, with the grounds at the bottom. I drink it. This isnít a conscious attempt at stabilization, I donít thinkójust something that struck me as a pretty good ideaóbut it may have had that effect, as itís normally hard for me to stay asleep so late in the morning.

      I consider where to go from here. Perhaps home, where the car was headedóonly I have no idea where I am right now. But if I fly, perhaps Iíll see some familiar landmark from the air and be able to find my way from there. And to fly, Iíll need a high place to launch fromóso it looks like Iím headed to the roof.

      In the meantime, Iíve noticed six or seven wolves between two shelves on the upper story, which is a sort of balcony over one half of the store. They all trot off in a single direction as I watch. Are they coming after me? But I wasnít planning on sticking around here in any case. I climb a shelf and phase through the ceiling.

      I now find myself in a room lit by a warm light. A long mahogany table laid with bright red dishes is some distance offóset for an elaborate meal, it looks like. It's quite pretty. I continue on my way, climbing another shelf and jumping through the ceiling.

      This time Iím in an attic-like room near a big calico cat that, in typical feline fashion, seems entirely unimpressed by my unusual method of transportation. But itís about then that I wake up.

      I also wake up remembering something elseónot something I heard, but words that seemed to be impressed on my mind. It went something like: ďUse the gifts youíve been given, human.Ē I donít know who said itóperhaps it was the cat?óbut it seemed somehow independent from the rest of the dream, like it was taking place on a different level. Good advice, in any case.

      12.4.18 - (Happy Lucid Dreaming Day, everyone!)
    5. Been Here A Lot Lately

      by , 04-12-2018 at 02:42 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I find myself walking down the staircase to the basement of my M--- house. It occurs to me that this is a place I only visit in dreamsóand so I must be dreaming right now.

      The room is dark, so I try to brighten it up a little bit by clapping as if the lighting there was the kind that responded to that. But that doesnít seem to help, and the visuals, though still vivid, have an indefinite quality to them that tells me the dream isnít very stable. I decide Iíll cut the visuals off altogether to stabilize it through other senses, but wake up firstóright around the time I ordinarily wake up, which explains the instability. I seem to have completely lost the ability to sleep in nowadays.

      10.4.18
      Tags: basement
      Categories
      lucid , dream fragment
    6. More Than 21 Cats

      by , 03-28-2018 at 10:39 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      Last night, I once again found myself lucid, once again without being entirely sure how it happened. It felt like the dream was close to an hour long, although it was technically two dreams since there was a brief awakening and reentry in the middle. Because it was so long and I spent the whole thing just exploring the house I found myself in and messing around, it wouldnít make for very interesting reading, and so Iíll just include a few highlights of it.

      -Finding a series of books entitled ďMore Than 21 CatsĒ on a bookshelf.

      -Devoting more attention than usual to maintaining awareness and focus. My lucid dreams almost always end with no warning whatsoever, and while I used to consider this something I couldnít do much about, Iíve been wondering lately whether preventative stabilization might help. This intention seems to have carried over, and as the dream was longer than any Iíve had for a while, Iíd call it a success.

      -Receiving a few gifts for no apparent reason from people who were around. I spent a good chunk of the dream opening them, resisting the urge to go off and do other things since it seemed like that would have been ungrateful, even if it was a dream.

      -Moving a wardrobe with my mind. I extended my hand, interfacing with it on a mental levelóif that makes senseóand then pulled. And then I pushed it back.

      -Having the dream briefly interrupted by a message displayed over the scene as if it were a screen. It was a rather ominous message, but it seemed to have no immediate effect other than turning everything in the house green and shifting some of the furniture into new styles and/or positions. This may have been a direct result of moving the wardrobe as it happened shortly afterwards, and the last time I tried to control things in a lucid dream was also closely followed by something weird and threatening happening.

      -Two more visits to my M--- basement, the first before the green shift, the second afterwards to see if anything had changed. It had: the second version had a closed door where the tunnel often is in dream versions of it, as well a sort of workshop behind the same wall, visible through a couple small windows.

      -Lots of cats around, but probably less than 21.
    7. Playing with Perception

      by , 03-20-2018 at 11:17 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I seem to have got lucid early in the night somehow and have decided to experiment with something Iíve been meaning to try out: intentionally connecting with my dream environments on the more intimate level that I sometimes experience in my non-lucid dreams. That was the general plan, but now that Iím here, I know how Iíll carry it out: doing without my vision. Itís something Iíve done out of necessity before in dreams, but never on purpose.

      Iím in the basement of my old house in M---, or the basement plus, I might call it, since itís the expanded version of itself it usually takes in dreams. This iteration of it is completely empty and has the usual weird tunnel leading off who-knows-where. But for the time being, Iíll be staying in this room. The place is a bit creepy, but just right for what I have in mind.

      I turn off my vision and feel for the influx of knowledge that Iím confident is there, latent in the dream - and find it. Itís difficult to describe - I'm not up for trying right now, but I think anyone who plays around with dreams much will have some experience to extrapolate from. I walk around for a while like thatóI really donít seem to have any trouble navigating this way. I turn my vision back on to confirm that itís the same bare room. It is.

      But thereís something else I want to try, so I turn my vision off again. I want to see if I can actually navigate a dream using sound, which Iíve never done before. I walk around some more, this time paying close attention to the echoes of my footsteps, trying to model the shape of the room with them. The sound seems to take on a living quality somehow, as if using it in this way has really turned it into an extension of my consciousness. And Iím actually getting an impression of a room, though a very rough one, and itís hard to be sure when I already know it pretty well by now.

      Vision back on. And with that done, I go off and have some non-lucid dreams until about 3:30 am, when I wake up and record the experience.

      20.3.18
      Categories
      lucid
    8. Insistent Melody; The Centipug

      by , 03-13-2018 at 10:19 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I'm lying in the middle of a dark room, trying to sleep. But itís not very comfortable there since I donít have a pillow or blankets or anything else except the (possibly carpeted) floor. As I lie there, a piece of music comes into my mindóďNight on Bald Mountain.Ē Itís not as if Iím thinking of it: rather itís as if itís pushing all the other thoughts out of my head until itís the only thing there, even though it's clearly in my head and not actually playing.

      It plays for a few bars, and then, just as the horn blasts the first note of the melody, I hear a loud crash from outside. A jolt of alarmóbut it lasts only for a moment. The noise I heard sounds just like the falling branch did a couple weeks ago, when the winds came through, and it seems likely to me that thatís what happened now. But I reflect that that was odd, about it matching the melodyóalmost as if, on some level, I knew the crash was going to happen in advance.

      Iím not sure what series of events came in between this and the next dream I can remember clearly, but my memory picks up shortly after attaining lucidity somehow. I step through a door out into a hallwayótile floors, completely bare, and several wooden doors, including one with a window in it at the end of the hall. Through the window, I can see some sort of colorful projection on the wall, like a screen. I head towards it and open the door.

      The room turns out to be a mid-sized lecture hall, with the seats and desks in a semicircular amphitheater arrangement. A few students are scattered throughout, and although there doesnít seem to be a teacher here, a PowerPoint presentation is going. It seems to be a presentation on poetry.

      An idea occurs to me: Iíll write down what I see and then try to record as much of it as I can in my dream journal once Iím awake. Granted, most of it looks like the sort of word salad you might except the subconscious mind on autopilot to kick out, but it could still be interesting. I forage around for something to write on but turn up with nothing but a pencil and some kind of treated animal skin, which is pretty far from ideal, but I figure I can try writing on the leathery side. I slip into a seat in the back row and start taking notes.

      I have a good half ďpageĒ or so written by the time I wake upówith no warning, as usual. But I find I canít remember any of itónot even the one line that actually seemed striking to me as I was recording it. The only thing I can remember from the whole presentation was the centipug (to give an appropriate name to it)óthe clipart-ish picture of a pug with many sets of legs that was at the bottom of one of the slides. Funny how that works.

      13.3.18
    9. The House by the Waterfront; Furious Panda

      by , 03-07-2018 at 04:09 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím driving in an unfamiliar town, where Iím going to attend an event of some kind. I have the impression it has something to do with Kyabje DŁdíjom Rinpoche? At first, Iím trying to find a parking spot near a junction, but all the spots there seem to belong to the nearby buildings, so I turn the car around and head towards the waterfront, closer to where the event will actually be held. Itís a long, straight street with small, gray paving stones and narrow, wooden houses painted light colors on either side. At one end of it, I can see boats, their masts blocking the view further outóto the harbor itself, presumably.

      I look around for house no. 11, which is where the event will take place, so I can park nearby. The address plates are large and clearly display the numbers, rather like the Prague address plates do. The plates seem to be in the right general order, and so I donít have trouble finding itóbut there do seem to be both odd and even numbers on a single side. Iím not sure whether it was this that clued me into the fact that I was dreaming, but it definitely happened right around then.

      This is a dream: what will I do? Checking out no. 11 still seems like a pretty good idea, but first, I decide to take a look around the area. I walk along the street, towards the harboróbut as I walk, it seems to change from a street to an underground tunnel, and when I reach the end, Iím not by the open sea, but looking into a square room full of water. It seems completely closed off and is made of some yellow-red stone, mossy where it's close to the waterline. The water is packed with boatsónot big ones like I saw before, but little ones, more on the order of rowboats.

      Thereís something a little ominous about this place; itís impossible to imagine what purpose it could possibly be serving. If this were a Zelda game, Iíd fully expect the door to slam behind me and some giant monster to rise up out of the water and attack. I wait. The water seems to be rippling in a rather odd way. After a little while, a couple of larger waves swell up, rolling beneath the layer of boats. But they just die down again, and the water becomes perfectly still. I watch for a little while longer, but it looks as if thatís all thatís going to happen, and so I head back towards the houseónow, an entrance partway along the tunnel. I open the door and step in.

      An Asian woman greets me: it seems Iíve been expected, although there doesnít seem to be any kind of a gathering here as I thought. The woman also seems to be expecting me to have a female friend along. I consider telling her that Iím here alone, but actually, thereís no reason I canít invite someone else. I tell the woman Iíll send them a text message and they should be here shortly.

      I pull my iPhone out of my pocket. But somehow, all the people I can think to invite are male. An idea occurs to me: I start spelling out A-N-I-M-A using the numbers which correspond to those letters. The phone is a bit shifty, as such devices often are in dreams, but not enough to impede me. But partway through, I remember that Iím not supposed to have an anima, being female and all. So I make it end U-S instead and send the Ďcodedí message off. Well, I guess Iíll see what happens. I put the phone back in my pocket and we sit down at the table in the next room to eat.

      The table is a large one, but there are only three places setóhers, mine and the empty one. We have some kind of fish dish, which tastes good. Not much in the way of conversation is happening, and so Iím mostly focusing on remaining aware, making sure I donít forget this is a dream. Itís an interesting feeling, being here in this place, which feels so real and yet so unreal. I could get up and do something else, but I want to see where this is going.

      But at some point, I wake upódue to some environmental noise, possibly. But itís only a short time before I fall asleep again, and find myself back in the house, in an upstairs bedroom this time.

      Through a window, I see branch falls onto the roof of a neighboring buildingóa large, blocky structure. The roof looks like itís in bad shape, with large chunks of tile missingóthis place must have got hit by the storm too, I figure.

      Iím eating a cup of yogurt there. Itís chalky and bland. Probably low-fat. Why am I eating this awful stuff? This is a dream, I donít have to eat it. I place the cup on a dresser or some similar piece of furniture. Downstairs, I hear the door of the house opening, voices in conversationósomebody has arrived. Maybe itís the person I invited in the earlier part of the dream. Iíll go down and check. But right now Iím wearing a nightgown, so I ought to put something else on first.

      I step over to the full-length mirror, which is standing near the door, and look at my reflection. Iím wearing a plain nightgown, like a short dress with spaghetti straps. Oddly, I donít seem to look quite like myselfómy face is different, though not completely different, and my eyes seem to be the usual color. I step back. Itís been a while since Iíve done thisóand actually, Iíve never done exactly what Iím about to try, but it doesnít seem like it should be too hard. Iíll create myself something more appropriate to wear. I extend my hands, palms upward, feeling energy gathering.

      But it doesnít feel rightóthereís some kind of a resistance there. As I notice that, I also see something standing behind me in the mirroróa furious-looking panda bear approaching me. I turn around, looking into the roomóbut it's empty. There's nothing there. I look back at the mirror: furious panda. Well, this is a little creepy. But because itís a panda, being furious just makes it look ridiculous rather than menacing. I step backwards into the room with one hand behind me, feeling for the spot where the panda ought to be based on its reflectionóbut I wake up before I can get to it.

      6.3.18
    10. Up & Down the Street; Whose Dogs?

      by , 02-08-2018 at 07:00 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I canít remember how the dream began, which means that I canít be sure whether I had realized I was dreaming and decided to fly around for a while or whether I had somehow realized that I could fly and stabilize my surroundings but not the full implications of it. But either way, thatís what I ended up doing.

      It seems to be early evening, and Iím on a street where all the buildings are lit up with small, multicolored lights. The street is steep and windingóa little reminiscent of Nerudova Street in its topography and architectureóand it has a vibrant and exciting atmosphere, as if itís a Saturday night and this is the place to go on a Saturday night.

      the adverse effects of B6-nerudova-ulice-prague-1909.jpg
      (Click to enlarge (because I can't figure out how to make it bigger here))

      I fly all the way up the street and then turn around and fly back down again. But it doesnít feel quite as real as I know it could be. I focus harder, and I imagine hearing music as I fly along, and that seems to helpóthis time, it feels as if Iím actually there. I fly back again, and this time I try it while spinning aroundósomething Iíve never done before. It turns out to be a lot of fun, seeing the ground change places with the sky.

      Sometime lateróin another dream, probablyóI'm on a bus on some kind of a trip. Iím with a large groupómany young children, some teenagers and a couple adults. There are also some children and teens there who are exchange students from another country. I have the impression this is a trip for the kids, and the teens and Iónot sure of my age in the dreamóare there to help out with it.

      At some point, we make a stop at a large grocery storeóthe sort thatís often still open in the middle of the night, which it seems to be now. A group of us, including me, goes in. But a womanómaybe the person in chargeóasks me if I could take the dog outside for a bit so she can have a chance to burn off some energy before weíre back on the bus. She has the dog thereóa big, black dog, female, I think. I agree to it.

      Once in front of the store, the dog goes sprinting off in a big loop, eventually coming back around to me. She immediately runs off again, and this time she returns carrying a stick in her mouth. Looks like weíre going to be playing fetch. But just then, I hear barking coming off from to my left. Two smaller dogs are thereóneither one on a leash, I noteóand the one that looks like a half-size pit bull is barking up a storm. I am instantly on alert: I have seen scenarios like this one end with furniture being toppled. But the black dog is not acting threatened or aggressive, and so it seems unlikely that a fightís going to break out. I have a vague impression of the dogsí owner nearbyóbut just then, my alarm wakes me.

      8.2.18
      Attached Thumbnails Attached Thumbnails the adverse effects of B6-nerudova.jpg  
    11. I Guess You Can borrow That; Return With Lucidity

      by , 01-31-2018 at 05:06 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I am traveling in a foreign country, driving a car down a dirt road—although there’s a bit of a traffic jam at the moment, and nobody is actually moving except the pedestrians, who walk between the cars and on the side of the road. Two women wearing some kind of sari-like traditional dress walk past. I think about giving them a lift—something I wouldn’t ordinarily consider doing, but they seem particularly trustworthy somehow.

      At some point, I suddenly find that the car is full of people, and I’m in the backseat. The two people in the front seats are wearing police uniforms, and two or three other people are standing between the rows of seats. I ask a man in a white business-type shirt standing to my left if this is a police chase, and he confirms that it is. I have heard about this—of officers requisitioning vehicles so they can go after somebody who would otherwise escape them. I suppose that’s OK—not that I get any choice in the matter.

      The next thing I remember is walking through a public building, talking with the same man. He’s asking me questions. One is, essentially, whether I can take any time off work. I reply that I can’t. I’m working remotely even now, on this trip. He is concerned that I’m not recovering from something, which he seems to feel is my fault, and wants me to undergo a scan of some kind—he’s holding the equipment now, beside a machine there. This is a little exasperating, as I’m already pretty sure this has to do with some kind of control issue, which isn't exactly news. But what’s more troubling is the fact that he’s mentioning things that happened since the car chase, and I don’t remember anything between now and then. I try to determine how big of a memory gap I’m dealing with. Very shortly afterwards, I conclude that this is not something it’s possible to do without knowing what happened during that time. And at that point, I wake up.

      It’s an hour or so after that—after recording the dream and after listening to people being typically noisy atypically early downstairs—that my cell phone rings. Or vibrates, rather, since that’s the setting I keep it on. I’m annoyed since I was almost asleep, and this is such a good opportunity for having a lucid dream. If I ignore it and don’t move, it’ll stop soon enough. But it doesn’t stop after the normal number of rings, and so I finally give up on the dream and get up to shut it off. And that’s when I realize—this is a dream.

      This is the part where I figure out what to do, now that I have this opportunity. And right now, what I want to do is go back to the setting of the last dream and figure out what was going on there. I head over to the window and step onto the windowsill, disregarding the glass pane, which obligingly acts as though it didn’t exist.

      It is dark out, but the setting I see before me has nothing else in common with what I’d ordinarily see out my window. For one thing, it’s a long way down—the ledge where I’m perched isn’t as high as an airplane would fly, perhaps, but it can’t be that much closer to the earth. The landscape spread out before me is also unfamiliar, and remarkably strange. The ground is uniformly flat, with nothing but houses and trees as far as the eye can see. But every so often, there are tall, thin spires, each set of them closely grouped, apparently made of rock— like giant needles stuck into the earth. Their tips are about level with where I am—in other words, incredibly high—and they’re so disproportionate to the rest of the landscape that they look unnatural.

      Looks like I’ll be flying, then. But first—I will it to become daytime and wait for a little while. Nothing happens. Well, that was probably a little unrealistic, but it was worth a try. Anyway, I can see just fine, even with no discernible source of light: everything below me and in the distance is clear and crisply outlined. But seen with night-vision, it’s all dark blue, which will make it less interesting to fly over. (Later on, after waking up, I’ll recall that I intentionally enabled myself to see in the dark in a lucid dream a couple months ago—could it be that it was a lasting modification? That would be interesting.)

      I ready myself and launch outwards, extending a set of muscles I only have in dreams, when I choose to: wings. It’s a smooth glide for the most part. There isn’t much in the way of wind up here—as empty and still and silent as it is on the ground far below. Trees, houses, more trees, more houses, and the nearest set of spires, coming ever closer. It’s an odd feeling, being up here in this lonely place, poised and sharply aware and secure somehow.

      The next part is difficult to remember—I’m not exactly sure how I managed to find my way back to the building from the first dream, but it seemed to involve flying in a pattern around the spires—a little like dialing the combination of a lock, a little like grabbing the fabric of dream-space and twisting it in exactly the right way. But one way or another, I'm there. The building was full of people before, but now it is dark and empty. And a woman with brown skin and dark hair is standing beside me there—she will take me to the man I want to speak to.

      And that’s the point where it would be best to end this account, I think….

      (29.1.18)

      Updated 01-31-2018 at 05:24 AM by 75857

      Categories
      lucid , non-lucid , memorable