• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    Non-Lucid Dreams

    1. A Place with a Mind of its Own

      by , 07-14-2020 at 08:23 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      (Note: The longer my dreams are, the harder it is for me to remember details, particularly conversations, and this was a long one. Thereís several hoursí worth of material here that I can only remember happened at all because I can remember remembering it in a later part of the dream, and this does raise questions of whether they ever actually played out. But, for what itís worth, it doesnít feel to me as if thatís what happened, and I do have many cases of knowing dream memory is working in that way to compare it to.)

      The earliest part I can remember is of a disaster taking place, a flood sweeping through a public building of some kind. Everybody is trying to get out. Iím one of the last out, but I wait, holding the door open so that the waters donít forcibly close it and trap the one person whoís still there. It took him a while to believe this was actually happening (understandable, considering how weird it is), so he didnít get out as quickly as everyone else.

      After this series of events is the biggest memory gap, which seems to mainly consist of meeting up with a large group of people and preparing for some kind of expedition together. I become lucid not long before weíre going to set off, although itís not so much me realizing that itís a dream as it is the unconscious knowledge that itís a dream, which Iíve been acting on this whole time, becoming conscious. And this sort of makes it feel as if Iíve been lucid the whole time, if that makes sense.

      Iím looking out the window of a house onto the rolling fields beyond as it happens. I still have some preparation to do here, though, so Iím still here packing as everybody else is leaving. Iím taking my hiking backpack, the black one with yellow trim. It occurs to me to wonder whether I need to do this in a dream, since I can just make things appear if I need them. But I have the impression, based on earlier conversations, that I might not be able to do that in some of the places weíre going, and so Iíll want to make sure I have essentials with me, at least. The last thing I grab is my brown aviator-style jacket, which I fold and pack into the backpack before buckling it and heading downstairs and outside.

      I can just see somebody disappearing past the other side of the house, down a broad stone staircase. Thatís where everybodyís gone. I try flying part of the way, but perhaps because of the hiking backpackóeven though it doesnít feel heavyóitís hard to get more than a couple feet off the ground. But flying seems to be slower than running anyway, so I just run around the side and down the stairs.

      Iím now in an area with several platforms rising a distance above the ground. Next to one on the far side is a cliff wall with a small tunnel partway up, a little above head height. A young women is nearby Ė it seems she had to stop to do something before going onward. I jump onto one of the platforms, where I see some piled-up clothing. I recognize it as a kind of uniform for us to wear. It looks a bit like a karate gi: loose pants and a shirt that ties around the front, white, though a little discolored with age and threadbare in places. On some of the edges, flowers are embroidered in pale colors. I put it on over my clothing.

      Jumping onto the last platform and up to the tunnelótaking off the backpack and pushing it in firstóis practically effortless, much easier than it would be in waking life, which makes it kind of fun. The tunnel is not tall enough to walk in, and it narrows considerably not far ahead, so I push the backpack in ahead of me. It barely fits, and I can see it slide down once it gets past the narrow point, where the tunnel slopes downward. I barely fit, too Ė I actually have to turn my head to the side to squeeze through. But soon, itís large enough to where I can crawl again, and then walk upright.

      The tunnel is made of squares of some smooth material, solid black in the center but with a stripe of red-orange around the edges that glows, lighting the way. As I walk, it slopes further downward and eventually drops me into a corridor with a grimy, institutional feel to it. All dimly and artificially lit, as if Iím somewhere underground.

      It has a distinctly unpleasant vibe Ė although part of the reason may be because of what I know about this place. It is actually a sentient environment, and not a very nice one, and now that Iím inside of it, itís going to be tracking my every move and shaping itself according to my actions and reactions. Itís not the destination Ė just somewhere we have to pass through on the way. Thereíll be a test at the end that has to be passed before we can get out Ė but this place doesnít like people leaving it and will be actively throwing obstacles in our way.

      My backpack isnít here Ė the place probably hid it somewhere, and so Iíll have to be on the lookout for it. I turn towards the right, reading the plates on the doors as I go by, deciding which room to enter first. The place looks to be some sort of school judging by what they say.

      As I walk, faint, unpleasant feeling-tones arise, like the ghosts of memories with an archaic, dark quality to them, although they definitely don't involve my personal past Ė not in this lifetime, anyway. Or maybe theyíre anticipations of what Iíll find here, behind the doors. Or maybe both. I also see a set of stairs leading downwards, but I donít want to leave this floor just yet.

      After reaching the end of the corridor, I head back, still making up my mind. Itís not terribly important where I go first, but I am aware that, as the first deliberate choice I make here, it will give the place some insight into me, will establish the course of how things will go. I decide on a room about midway between the end of the corridor and where I started from labelled ďFaculty Lounge.Ē

      As I open the door, Iím surprised by what I see. Itís a little room, somewhat like the bedroom of a hostel, with two bunk beds, a table off to one side and some assorted furniture Ė overall, quite nice apart from the lack of windows. But the really surprising thing is that itís already occupied by two people from the group I started with.

      Sam is thereóSam, maker of ukuleles, fixer of anything with strings and frets, host of concerts and an accomplished musician in his own right. His dog is there with him. The other person isnít waking-life familiar, although he does somewhat resemble one of my coworkers, with dark hair, pale skin and some kind of facial hair, I think. A dog has come in with me as well, a large, black one. I donít pay much attention to it besides noting that itís mine and hoping that the room isnít going to be too crowded now.

      Sam greets me Ė but he uses a different name, a manís name. They must be seeing this place and this situation differently than I do, I realize. It had been mentioned at the earlier gatherings that it would appear differently to everybody Ė but I had assumed that we would also be going through it alone, individually, and so it hadnít occurred to me that Iíd find myself in this kind of situation. But I can roll with it.

      We talk for a little while. At one point, one of them advises me to be careful not to give this place ďthe impression that Iím somebody it can f*** with.Ē Sam mentions that heís working on a puzzleóit seems to be set up on the table thereóand I say Iíll leave him to it. I mention, though, that Iím good with puzzles, and he invites me to come help put it together. This must be part of their test, I realize Ė and it strikes me that maybe it isnít a coincidence I ended up here to help them with it, although from everything Iíve heard, it would be uncharacteristically benevolent for the place to intentionally direct me to them.

      The puzzle seems to mainly feature cute baby animals, and it is close to being finished. I help assemble the remaining pieces as Sam tells me some anecdotes heís heard about a 20th century Viennese composer. He canít remember which one theyíre about. I notice, though, that the bottom edge of the puzzle isnít complete. Sam is stirring some sort of gooey blue liquid, and I realize that that will also be part of it: the tests, though different, all have one thing in common: incorporating two bowls of these brightly colored mixtures into them somehow.

      14.7.20
    2. Darkness and Light and Cellos

      by , 05-16-2020 at 10:00 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      I am hanging out with co-workers and getting to know somebody whoís apparently just been hired. Her name is Marie, and sheís from Canada. In addition to working here, sheís a grad student working on a music degree, which she's now almost done with. She's currently working on the composition that will be her thesis. She shows it to me Ė via some sort of electronic device, I think.

      The music is notated on manuscript paper, but instead of the usual note shapes, there are little horizontal rectangles that stretch out for as long as the note is held, rather like a midi display. The inside of each rectangle is patterned in ways that indicate something about the music. I hear it in my head as I read, with the patterns calling up images and connotations in relation to it.

      The first bar begins with two long Gs an octave apart played by instruments in the violin family Ė I donít identify them explicitly in the dream, but given that itís written in the bass clef, almost certainly cellos. The rectangles contain the patterns signifying darkness and light. The impression this makes is hard to describe. Poignant, maybe Ė a suggestion of a cavernous space vast enough to hold them both at once. It continues, but I canít remember the part after that so well.

      16.5.20
    3. The End of the World (again)

      by , 05-10-2020 at 09:34 PM (The Fourth Factor)
      In the earliest part of the dream I can remember well, Iím with a group of people from work. Weíre in a house rather than an office, a mostly empty one thatís not in the best condition and which strikes me as reminiscent of somewhere in the past (it's not a vague memory in the dream Ė rather, my waking self canít pin it down to anywhere familiar). Thereís something in the way everything is happening that suggests weíre maintaining order in the midst of a chaotic situation and extemporizing as necessary. Some disaster has struck the world Ė although it seems less like this is the aftermath than that it was so bad that what remained of humanity actually had to flee to some sort of parallel dimension.

      Kate, the director, tells us we should all go outside to see something. Stepping out of the house, I can see what looks like a large town square across the street, round-ish in shape, possibly cobbled. Above the old-fashioned buildings on the opposite side, the sky is turning pink and purple in a certain area. In the middle of it, a black spot appears, clearly visible against the light. I recognize it, as does everybody there: this was what happened before, the thing that came and destroyed the world.

      But something is different this time: instead of appearing large and far away, the spot now seems to be quite close, in the square itself. Somehow, I know that I can make things turn out differently this time around. I run towards it, the others not far behind.

      The dark sphere is floating there, too high to jump for but close to a flagpole on the far side. I scale it. The flag, which is dark blue, isnít flying Ė rather, it seems to be tied to the pole, and (on later reflection) entirely too large for it. The thing actually looks more like a mast than a flagpole. But I manage to make it up with no trouble until I'm level with the sphere. Itís very small now, smaller than a cotton ball. I reach out and grab it, enclosing it in my hand.

      The moment I touch it, it changes, becoming material, taking on a definite shape. It has become a key on a keyring.

      I know what to do now: the keyhole canít be too far away. I actually find it on the way back down, on the base of the pole. I put it in and turn, and keep turning. And as I do, something is happening to the building closest to the pole: the whole faÁade is unfolding, revealing a large airplane inside. It looks like a typical jet, but in the dream, it strikes me like something out of another era, concealed here for who knows how long.

      A dirty, light brown liquid is pooled near the nose. An inner voice that seems to belong to the plane itself tells me that it needs an oil change. I think that it probably needs rather more than that, considering how long itís been here. But Iím aware that this situation is out of my hands now. It will be others who fix it up and who make use of it somehow to avert disaster. Iíve done what I can.

      10.5.20
    4. The Cipher Tower

      by , 02-15-2020 at 12:24 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I seem to be visiting my parents, who live on an island. Iím busy for most of the day cleaning out a cabinet or wardrobe. In only another hour or so, there are going to be guests over for dinner.

      Weíre out of the house now for some reason. Mother is concerned that Iíve been exerting myself so much, and I should drink some water. Iím not particularly thirsty but say I will. My father and I go off to a sort of convenience store-like shop nearby to buy a bottle, but the water is very expensive Ė almost 10 dollars for a water bottle (though I canít swear it wasn't some other currency). Thatís right, I remember Ė there isnít any fresh water on the island, so it all has to be shipped here, and that makes it so expensive. My father asks if itís OK if I donít get the water, and I say Iím fine with it. Again, I donít particularly care either way Ė I just want to keep them happy.

      Not long after that, I step onto what unexpectedly turns out to be an elevator Ė a floating glass elevator, ŗ la Willy Wonka. It rises up and flies partway across the island to a large building, then down several stories into its basement. I briefly see the various underground floors on the way down. I consider getting off and heading back Ė I donít want to be late for dinner Ė but rumor has it that the headquarters of the secret police is on one of those floors, and I have a history with them. Just walking through their headquarters would be asking for trouble.

      So I wait as some other people get on the elevator and it continues to the third major hub on the island Ė it isnít very large, and so there are only the three. This one is on the other end, farther away Ė a place Iíve never been before. The elevator flies over lawns dotted with groves of trees. Itís dusk now, and we approach and pass a blue light Ė some sort of decorative sculpture marking the approach. This whole area is like an estate, or a place that was one at some previous time.

      Once weíre there, I get off. Thereís a tower there Ė perhaps I have to climb down the side to get to the ground, but one way or another, I wind up climbing on it. Itís a fairly small building, though tall, made of square, grey stones, each of which has a shape cut through it large enough to make a foothold or handhold Ė circles, squares, stars, etc. Each stone is also marked with two sets of letters, one a capital letter, the others one or more lowercase ones. As I grab hold of one hollow stone, I feel a switch flip on the inside edge, causing the opening to light up. The whole thing is a giant cipher key, I realize. I donít have any messages in need of decoding Ė but if I happen to find any, I now know exactly where to bring them.

      I climb around for a bit, playing around with it to make sure I know how it works. But once Iím back on the ground, a woman starts yelling at me for climbing on the tower. Guess I wasnít supposed to be doing that. I stay calm. What sheís saying doesnít make much sense Ė really not a coherent accusation against me at all, just anger. I ask a couple reasonable questions. She answers, still in an angry tone. But then, having lost her momentum, the absurdity of it seems to dawn on her, and she starts laughing. I laugh, too. It seems like everything is OK now.

      12.2.20
      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. Mostly Travel

      by , 02-09-2020 at 03:36 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I have arrived in a green area shaded by trees. It seems that Iím traveling somewhere, and this is a stop along the way. The dream doesnít make it explicit, but this seems to be the Czech countryside in the early 20th century Ė more or less.

      Gradually, other people arrive. I converse with a woman there as we wait. A couple large dogs arrive as well and are running around getting in peopleís way. I order them to sit, figuring that theyíve just run here ahead of their masters, who wonít be far behind. They obey. One of them lies down, then rolls over on its back, obviously looking to get pet.

      The car arrives Ė a distinctly old-fashioned one. (Although there is some uncertainty there, as if the dream canít quite decide on what sort of vehicle it should be. They all tend to be more or less interchangeable in my dreams.) There isnít enough room in the car for everybody, but since I was there first, I get to be on its first trip. The woman I was talking to has to wait for its next one.

      I look around as we ride. The man next to me in the backseat is choosing the music that plays in the car via something rather like a touch-screen tablet framed in brown leather Ė much more aesthetic than the modern ones, I think to myself. Out the window, I see a turquoise river pouring over an oddly shaped stone formation into a lake Ė a place Iíve seen pictures of before but never visited. I turn around to continue to look through the back window as we drive by.

      Iím aware, as I look around, that in the not-so-distant future this area will be devastated by war. It adds a poignancy to being here in this beautiful place.

      The train Ė sure enough, itís decided it would rather be a train now Ė approaches a platform, stopping under a curved wooden roof from which flowering vines hang down. An invasive species, I note. Parasitic to boot. But quite pretty, and so you can understand why people let it grow like this. In the future, there will be more of a push against it Ė but not so much here as in other places. A brief image comes to me of the future, of its yellow flowers filled with ash.

      It now seems as if the woman from before is on the train too, and along with another passenger, we continue our conversation.

      When I woke up, I remembered the following melody:




      I donít think it was actually playing during any part of the dream Ė my impression is that it was connected to it somehow but happening on a different level of awareness. I find it rather odd that itís in C# major since thatís not a key I ordinarily have much to do with. Maybe I waited too long before transcribing it and my pitch memory was off? Or maybe it was just in C# major.

      -31/1/20
      Categories
      non-lucid
    6. Melody Fragments

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



      And, from a later awakening:



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      11.5.19
      Categories
      non-lucid
    8. In Media Res

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

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

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

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

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

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

      1.12.18
    9. Interdimensional Bathhouse; Music Box #5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      (8.11.18)
    10. In a Dark Place

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

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

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

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

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

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

      (7.9.18)
    11. The Big Picture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Shortly afterwards, I wake up.

      (7.8.18)
    13. A King and a Cat

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

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

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

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

      (31.7.18)
      Categories
      non-lucid
    14. 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
    15. Shop of Shiny Things

      by , 06-13-2018 at 04:15 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      In this dream, I ampart of a group, possibly of students, although we seem to be doing whatever it is weíre doing out in the streets of a city rather than in a classroom. At some point, I go into a shop with a few others. Itís selling clothingóskirts mostly, long, summer-y ones that look handmade, in a variety of colors and patterns, but some belts and scarves and things as well.

      The things in the shop donít seem to be in any particular order: in one part of the room is a big pile of loosely-folded skirts. I think one skirt looks interesting and pull it out to get a closer look, but it now seems to be a sheepskin vest with pictures and words on it, not really like anything else in the shop. I put it back.

      I then look at a display of jewelry on one wall. It all appears to be carved out of some kind of iridescent mineral of many colorsódefinitely something natural, judging by the variations. Next to the jewelry are some plectra made from the same material. A young woman from the class tells me that there are more in another part of the room, so I go to look at those as well.

      I find one plectrum there thatís blue, in a kind of boomerang shape. It looks interesting, but Iím concerned that itís too blunt. Another is a brilliant red with little flecks of black and white on the edges and basically triangular, but with slightly concave edges going up to the point. Iíll buy that one, I decide.

      12.6.18
      Categories
      non-lucid
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