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    Memorable Dreams

    1. 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
    2. Sinister Device

      by , 06-05-2018 at 09:42 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      Iím walking down the metallic corridor of a spaceship, carrying a small backpack and some other item with me. I spot a door on the left-hand side and walk in. Itís a little room with a bed, a sink and various other useful things along the walls. I set my things down. It looks like nobodyís claimed this one yet. Iím glad because I like room #2ótheyíre all pretty similar, but I just like this one more for some reason.

      I look at the bedójust a molded bit of plastic, no sheets on it yet. Itís pretty uncomfortable. I could have brought some extra bedclothes, knowing in advance that it would be, but I figured Iíd just pick some up along the way.

      All of this is so familiar to me because I can remember all of it happening before, even the things that havenít happened yet. If dťjŗ vu is like seeing a firefly flickering in the darkness, this is like being in broad daylight. I remember all of it, although not everything seems to be set in stoneólittle things like my being the first one here and the outcome of one very big thing thatís still a long way in the future.

      Somewhere out in space, thereís an odd device wired into the workings of a satellite devoted to climate monitoring. The device had originally been with me, but some time back, in the midst of a chaotic situation, some group had managed to get their hands on itónot a hostile group, exactly, but not overly friendly either. They had managed to figure out that it was a powerful device and even how to get it to do some interesting things, but they really have no idea what it was capable of.

      This situation doesnít bother me too much. An unmanned climate monitoring satellite isnít a bad place for the thing for the time being. Theyíve taken great pains to keep it a secret, and nobody is likely to find it there. And when it leaves dormancy and begins to destroy the satelliteóit is a matter of when rather than ifóthereís only so much damage it can do.

      That wonít be for a while yet. It will also take a while for them to trace it back to the device and figure out just what theyíre dealing with. And thatís when theyíll come to me. I have some kind of connection with this thing, which is how I know all this, and Iím the only one who has a chance of destroying it. I wonít have to bother about getting it back. All I have to do is make sure Iím ready when the time comes.

      Someone else enters the roomóa young woman, tall with short, blonde hair and a punk-ish look. Iím one of four people who have just been brought here, possibly as some kind of training program, and sheís another of them. She tells me the people in charge here found something out about her past and are making her take some kind of testósomething they needed a blood sample for. She hasnít got the results back yet. I donít know anyone here that well yet, but I have the impression she just needs someone to talk to.

      We go out together, through a door in the ceiling. We arenít actually in space nowóweíre parked. Itís definitely not earth, though: we move through the air like swimming, as if gravity is very low here. Itís dark out, and thereís nobody else around. Not far from us is a park with a playground. We float over to it. I notice my companion is wearing a purple pair of flippers, which strikes me as a smart ideaóshe can probably move faster that way.

      I grab ahold of a colorful childrenís play structure and maneuver through a hole in it. Might as well get a feel for what itís like moving through the air like this. I think that this, in a way, is also preparation for what Iíll eventually have to do.

      The woman heads back to the spaceship at some point, but I stay out a bit longer.

      5.6.18
    3. Apocalypse LOL

      by , 04-28-2018 at 10:39 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      In the dream, Iím watching a film. I think I was watching it on a screen at first, but in the part I can remember well, Iím just standing on scene, watching as events unfoldóor, rather, fail to unfold, as this seems to be the kind of film where nothing much happens.

      The main (and only present) character, a man, is in a kind of apartment with a desk or a dresser that heís sitting at. There are no walls: I can see directly into the strange landscape beyond, where the horizon is dominated by mountain peaks, including two volcanoes. The action is divided into distinct segments, with each one ending anticlimactically. In the last one, the man calls his girlfriend on his cellphone, but nobody picks up. This seems to illustrate the unremitting futility of lifeóor at least youíd think it does, based on the dramatic treatment it gets.

      But once that comes to an end, all sorts of odd things start happening: a nearby pool of water starts to bubble, and one of the volcanoes erupts. Iím now in the backseat of a car with several other people, trying to get somewhere safe. But then the other volcano, which is straight ahead of us, also begins to erupt, the bright magma spilling over the rim. The woman whoís driving comments on it. I tell her sheís got the name wrongósheís thinking of the other volcano. The one ahead of us is Vesuvius. And then I start laughing because of course what matters in this situation is making sure we get the name of the volcano that kills us right.

      Iím also laughing because Iím fully aware of how ridiculous this geography is. I know none of this is real, and that makes it hilarious. As if in acknowledgement, all kinds of odd and impossible things are appearing out of nowhere around us, even as I watch. A gigantic man wearing a striped shirt materializes off to our left, over a large body of water. He steps from island to island, striding in the same direction our car is going. Iím still laughing too hard to speak, and so itís someone else in the car who says it: ďI found Waldo.Ē They also seem to find the whole thing funny.

      28.4.18
      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    4. Was That the Fourth Wall Back There?

      by , 04-24-2018 at 02:10 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      This dream was interesting: it was like I was playing out a role in a story, aware that it was a story (but not aware that it was a dream). It was being narratedónot by anybody present, but a voice that I could talk to and that seemed to be indicating what I should be doing as much as describing it.

      The setting was a building like an airport - at least, in the only part I can remember. But it only appeared that way from the standpoint of the people there: it was really two separate buildings, split by a wall they couldnít see. Inside the wall were rooms where there were peopleópeople who could see through the wall and observe what was happening on both sides, and people in offices who were presumably working to keep the place going. The cameraófor lack of a better wordóseemed to make a point of showing this area, even though nothing much was happening there. At one point, it slowly panned across it so that you could see all the people as well as a window showing an entire world outside that didnít exist from the standpoint of the people in the building where I was.

      Right now, Iím concerned with getting into a special event thatís being held by people whose land borders mine. I approach a man I knowómaybe in his late 30s, wearing some kind of complex, vaguely tribal outfitóand ask him if he can take me along. Heís happy to accept. He just seems to be a good-natured person who likes helping people get what they want. He probably thinks I just want to get in with a certain crowd, but I have other reasons for needing to be there (unfortunately, not ones I can remember after waking up).

      Heís going there now, and Iíll be coming along on a Ė well, Iím not entirely sure what it is. It has a special name (that I forgot) and seems to be a bit like a jet ski, but attached to a helicopter and with things like leather shields Iím supposed to hold onto. As I look it over, Iím glad this is going to be broadcast over the radio because that gives everyone in the audience a chance to imagine something less stupid-looking. But I get on it, and we head off.

      24.4.18
      Tags: narration, story, wall
      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    5. Political Poem; And each time, it grew colder

      by , 03-18-2018 at 11:58 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I seem to be back in my old house in M---, in the dining room/weight room area (an odd combination that is actually true to life rather than your standard oneiric mash-up). I'm reading a poem that is supposedly by Heine. It’s a sort of varied, complex, allusive thing that somehow manages to be beautiful while also having real matter to it. But as incredible as it is, there’s also a real sense it which it doesn’t speak to modern people anymore. That means there’s an opportunity for a modern take—which is an intimidating prospect since whatever I’d write would inevitably be held up next to this one.

      While pursuing this line of thought, I’ve gotten up and started walking towards the front door. The part about the different Chinese dynasties—well, no question what that would have to be now. In the original, it was totally an indirect criticism of his government—you had to be indirect about it in those days.

      I now seem to be packing for a trip I’m going to take with some friends. The next part I remember clearly is being in a train station rather like the one in Kassel, waiting for my train. But I notice I haven’t brought my heavy coat with me, and since we’ll be camping, I could really be missing it if the weather turns cold. I also have some plastic boxes, one of which is filled with cheese? Why is this even here?

      Looking at an analog clock, I see I still have 20 minutes left before my train arrives, and that’s enough time to pack more sensibly since I only have to go down a hallway to get to my house. I picture the hallway: it’s reminiscent of the one between Penn Station and Madison Square Gardens in NYC.

      There seems to be another shift here: I’m now watching a video— like animated drawings, black and white. It’s about three girls, one of whom I know is me, although they are all represented identically. There is also music in the background: a bouzouki playing a cheerful melody.

      According to the narration, the three girls created a world together. But this doesn’t seem quite right to me. The images are definitely showing them doing it one at a time, but the narration seems to be referring to it as a single event. Perhaps the video is just showing it that way in order to make the levels of ontological priority clear? No, the video clarifies, it really did happen three separate times. The one who is me did it the first time, and then, a while later, each of the others—but it was somehow harder for them because each time, it had grown colder there.

      And now I actually seem to be there, walking through the scenery as it’s snow falls. There are graves there, marked by headstones—the graves of the two other girls, I realize. This does not compute—especially the incongruity with the background music, which has failed to reflect the dark turn this scene has taken and is continuing on as cheerfully as before—and I wake up.

      But the last phrase of the music was still clear enough in my memory to where I was able to record it:



      As of waking up, it was on its second repetition. My guess is that this isn’t an original creation. It just seems so familiar—but then, so many things in dreams do.

      18.3.18

      Updated 08-05-2018 at 02:49 AM by 75857

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    6. A Doomed Encounter; Your Turn

      by , 02-12-2018 at 10:48 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      A meeting is taking place beside a river between a knight and a woman. His name is Gawain. Her name is Lotus. It seems like the beginning of a relationship between them. But she can see into the future, and she knows that one day, he will kill her. And yet, she doesn't attempt to break things off.

      I am seeing things from his perspective and from hers, and also from somewhere outside of it, where I donít like the way things are going. And so I pull the scene apart, untangling all the little mental streams that are contributing to it and recombining them into three separate bundles. It will be easier to work with this way, I figure. Now I am in the kitchen of my old house in M--- with my mother, preparing a meal. Iím making the salads. But as I tear the lettuce into smaller pieces, I can still see the river there, and a little point of red light shining in the grass beside it. Itís easy to see and easy to avoid, but it still makes me uneasy.

      In a different dream, Iím in a grocery store, although the building seems to be serving multiple functions. Iím there shopping with Saimiís little sister, who seems to be around seven years old. After a while, I figure Iíll let her take care of a few things. She gets to do something all on her own, I get to read for a little bitóit seems like a pretty good arrangement. I tell her to pick out some plumsómaybe three, whatever kind looks niceóand I sit down at a table there with my book of Rilkeís poetry, which I apparently have with me. She goes off and comes back a few minutes later with a single plum in a plastic bag. She places it on the table and then leaves again. A few minutes later, sheís back with another plum in a bag. Kids. You know thereís got to be some sort of weird logic behind this.

      But now something else seems to be happening: thereís going to be a horse race here, inside the building, and Saimiís little sister is participating, along with three other people. But the horse sheís on is a rather strange one: it seems to be made of some embroidered red material with yellow patterns in it, while still behaving like a living horse. But the race doesnít begin immediately, and I awaken before it actually takes place.
    7. 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