• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




    View RSS Feed

    lucid

    Lucid Dreams

    1. 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
    2. 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
    3. 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
    4. 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
    5. 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)
    6. 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
    7. 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
    8. 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, but—after a series of events I can no longer remember—I realize I’m dreaming.

      I’m in an unfamiliar city. It’s a place with a charming atmosphere—lots 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 fly—without my customary wings, since I was already flying to begin with—enjoying 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 Bergpark—and 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 left—although monument might be the better word since it’s 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: “So, is there anything you want to say to me?”

      The head comes to life. It says: “What the f*** are you doing here?” in what is quite possibly a Cockney accent. I’m a bit taken aback but still proceed to have a conversation with him—as best I can. I’m finding the accent difficult, and the background noise from the other people here isn’t 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 us—this seems to be a good luck ritual of the sort that often develops around statues. The others produce coins, and I figure I’ll go along with it, too. Without looking, I stick my hand into a pocket which I expect I have—even though I don’t ordinarily wear clothing with pockets where this would be possible, it’s 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 laundry—my aunt had been washing some really old stuff, I guess—and, unsurprisingly, that’s what the coin I eventually find turns out to be.

      Once that’s over, I’m 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 some people I'd like to speak to. 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 don’t see them there, and before long, I wake up.

      (3.7.18)

      Updated 08-05-2018 at 02:46 AM by 75857

      Categories
      lucid
    9. 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
    10. 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!)
    11. 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
    12. 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.
    13. 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
    14. 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
    15. 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
    Page 1 of 2 1 2 LastLast