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Mostly a bunch of fragments, just random images, with one short remembered dream. Ever since my false awakening lucid dream a few days ago, I've been so excited about it that my sleep is being disrupted. Last night, I woke up six or seven times because I realized I was dreaming and it woke me up. I can't remember the dreams and all it did was disrupt my sleep. I don't know if this is a common phase, but today I'm tired.

In which KH and I pose for a picture with swapped heads

KH posted a link to a list of creepy science experiments which I read just before going to bed.

I'm with KH at her garden. My friend E, a photographer, is making us pose in front of her garden plot like the couple in American Gothic. I argue that this parody is lame and over-done. He snatches the pitchfork from KH, decapitates both of us, and swaps our heads.


EDIT: I just read a news headline that made me remember another dream. I guess I did get some sleep.

In which J got out of prison and I ate all his candy...

I'm working as a substitute teacher. I report to the AISD office to collect my assignment, and the woman at the front desk tells me that something has come up on my background check that has caused my name to be removed from the sub list. I call the police department for details, and they give me the details of J's conviction. I explain that they have me mixed up with him, and they tell me that I'll have to go to the prison to get confirmation of the mistake.

I get to the prison and give them my information and J's. The guard looks it up on the computer and he says, "What a coincidence. J is going to be released in five hours." I'm shocked. I call M and C and tell them about it, and they rush over to the prison. J comes out and he is nearly seven feet tall. He is carrying a bag of candy.

We all drive to G's house, and he is having a Welcome Home party for J. His entire family is there. I sit down beside the pool and notice the little bag of candy beside me. I eat a tootsie roll, a piece of butterscotch and come licorice. There are a few lollipops and peppermints left in the bag.

I go back inside the house to get some beer, and when I come outside, J, M, C and G are all standing around, looking at the bag of candy.

"Did you eat all of J's candy?" they ask me.

"No- I didn't touch it," I lie.

They don't believe me. I try to blame it on A's little kids. I tell them that maybe the kids ate the candy. They tell me that they have a video camera installed on the side of the house and they will review it to see if it is true. Finally I admit to eating three of the pieces of candy, but I maintain that I did not eat the rest.

Two fragments, poor recall. The interesting thing about these partially remembered dreams is that they all include some sort of awareness that I was dreaming without me ever becoming lucid. I've never tried to do reality checks, but if I was in that habit, I'd probably have become lucid. Maybe I should start doing them.

In which my non-lucid dreaming-self tries to have a lucid dream...

I'm resting in the branches of a low-limbed oak tree in a green field. There is a lot of activity all around me. There are characters running around who appear to be harmless but annoying teenagers. One is wearing a top hat. There is also a lawn-mower running around the field by itself.

I lay back in the tree and decide that I'm going to attempt to reproduce the false awakening WILD (if I'm using the terminology correctly) that I had a few days ago. I focus on all my limbs and try to repeat to myself, I am dreaming, but the teenagers keep distracting me.

In which I run into SR, she is eight months pregnant, and her mom lives in a house I've dreamt about before...

I'm teaching a class at MMS. I see SR walk into the computer lab and she is eight months pregnant. I run over to congratulate her and talk to her a bit about the pregnancy. She tells me she is expecting a boy and we talk about the ultra-sound, etc. I feign excitement and keep the conversation really positive, but actually I'm really upset that she had not mentioned it to me at all these eight months. We've emailed several times and she never told me about it. It makes me feel really insignificant in her life.

Later, I'm at SR's mom's house and I'm congratulating her on becoming a grandmother again when I realize that this isn't really her usual house but rather a house that I dream about a lot. For example, a few months back, I dreamt about P and H in this house. I've never seen this house in real life. It has a long patio in the front with three separate front doors and windows on either side so that the front of the house is a row of five windows and three doors. If you enter into the far right door, you will step into a sunken foyer that then lifts up into a long open living room. The middle door opens to this living room though it is also a fireplace. The far left door opens to a linoleum hallway. I can't remember the rest of the house after this.

I explain all this to SR's mom and even tell her about the dream I had here in this same house about P and H. But somehow I do not realize that I'm still dreaming, even though we are talking about dream houses.

In which I introduce my mom to MA and she tells her of a funny dream she had about Jesus...

My mom, Grandma, Aunt B and I are sitting at the sports bar in downtown. We see MA and two other people crossing the street. I ask my mom to come outside with me to say hello.

We are standing on the corner of Main and Chestnut in front of the office supply store. MA and my mom chat, and the two people with MA stand there politely, waiting. One of them is a young man who is wearing a shirt that has a picture of Jesus with the Sacred Heart. My mom points at the guy's shirt and giggles a little bit because she says it reminds her of a dream she just had. I get a little nervous because I know that MA and her friends are extremely religious. My mom is not religious at all and I'm afraid one of them will say something that might offend the other. But my mom is a nice person who would never intentionally insult anyone and MA is a fun person who has a sense of humor, so I decide it will probably be OK and I don't try to prevent my mom from telling the dream.

I can't remember my mom's dream but it had a punchline that had something to do with meeting a person whose name is Jesus. Because this person was Hispanic, my mom assumed his name would be pronounced in the Spanish way, with the J sounding like an English H. But instead, the person pronounced his name Jesus- just like the English name for the Christian son of god. For some reason, we all thought this was hilarious.

Oh and I really wish that I could remember more of this dream because my Aunt B was in it in the beginning and we had a long conversation that I can't remember. My Aunt B is dead, and in the dream we talked about being dead. Too bad I can't remember it.

In which I meet a woman who claims to be my husband's first wife...

I'm walking around Berkley and I meet a pretty 40ish Indian woman named Sangeeta. Her hair is pulled back casually and she wears a burgundy and gold shawl. She carries herself elegantly. We get to chatting and she tells me that she knows who I am. She says that she was married to my husband when he was straight out of high school. This really shocks me and I tell her I don't believe her. She just laughs, and says it was a long time ago. She says he cheated on her with another woman and left her to marry this other lady. Wait a minute- that makes me his [I]third[I] wife!

I leave Sangeeta and go to a cafe to call my mother-in-law. I plead with her to tell me honestly whether or not this is true. She weeps and apologizes for lying to me all these years and admits that it is true. Now I wouldn't have minded so much if I'd always known that my husband had two marriages before he met me, but finding out now after I've been married for ten years is shocking! It completely changes everything I thought I knew about my husband's life. The entire timeline of his life that I thought I knew well must've been fabricated just to cover up these former marriages. And worse still- every one of his early friends and all of his family have been lying too and going along with this for years!

I feel like a fool, but the worst part is that I feel broken-hearted. I'm so miserable that I dread calling him up and confronting him. What could he possibly say that would make up for this level of betrayal? I think that I'll just leave my life and disappear without telling anyone anything. I start to think about how difficult it would've been to pull this off. This deceit would've required hundreds of people to flawlessly lie to me for over a decade. All of the photo albums I've casually thumbed through at friends and family houses would have been carefully presented just to cover up his previous marriages. This seems like too large a conspiracy- and it would've been absolutely pointless. Why would they do that?

There is no reason, I think to myself. It doesn't make any sense. I look around in the cafe and realize that there is also no reason for me to be in Berkley. I'm dreaming. It's as simple as that. Relief rushes over me. Though I'm lucid, I'm not excited about it. I'm just relieved that my life is still normal. I put my head on the table and fall, peacefully, into another dream.

In which cousin S gets a job at SUNY and I encourage her...

S sends me an email describing her job offer. I respond with encouragement and questions. The dream is pretty boring so I won't talk about it in detail. The only thing that makes it interesting is that the whole conversation took place via email. I think this is the first time I've emailed in a dream.

Too much to drink on New Years Eve to dream much. Restless sleep, bad recall, but two vivid images.

In which I see a winter landscape...

There are rolling hills that gently ascend to bluffs, high above a river. There are two bare limbed trees at the end of one bluff but the rest of the hills are only pastures of grass that has yellowed in the winter. The dream zooms in on the bluff with the trees, and I see a small cottage sits nearby. Smoke comes from the chimney and a light is on inside. The snow starts to fall and soon the landscape is blanketed with fresh snow. It piles up on the roof and tree branches. Two blue birds fly from the tree and land on the house.

In which I see a dead horse...

I see a horse that has fallen dead. Blood pours from his eyeballs and his nose. It disturbs me so much that I wake up.

Two uninteresting stress dreams about going back to school. I've had a few dreams lately related to my career change. It's a big move for me and so naturally I'm going to dream about it and be stressed, but these two dreams are really uncreative and disappointing. Oh well. Not every night can be an adventure.

In which I fail Psychology...

I realize that I've skipped three or my four Psychology classes. The entire course is only four classes long. I pull out the syllabus and see that I still have a chance of passing the course. The final is worth 75% of the final grade, so if I can ace the final, I can pass even though I didn't do the three daily assignments. I spend the weekend procrastinating, thinking about how I should be studying. Then I sleep late the morning of the final. I wake up at 10:15 and my final starts at 10:30. I rush out the door and sit in traffic. Finally I arrive at 10:45 but the professor lets me in anyway. I look at the final and realize I don't know any of the answers as I have not even opened the book or attended a single class. I feel like a loser.

In which R acts like a jerk...

I'm on campus before the semester starts with R. We walk into a gazebo where we set our books down. The bookstore is nearby and I need to go over there and buy my books. R says he wants a cup of coffee and he exits the gazebo and starts walking to the coffee shop across the street. I holler at him because I want to tell him to bring me a cup a coffee too and explain that I will be in the bookstore. He hears me trying to tell him something, but he waves me off in an angry way and continues walking away. I chase after him, but he crosses the street before I get there. The bookstore is closing soon, but I'm afraid that if I go there without telling R first, he will not know where I am and I will not be able to find him again. I don't have a cell phone or money with me, so I sit back down alone under the gazebo and wait. I'm nervously watching the managers lock up the bookstore and I realize that I will not be able to buy my books.

These are the two dreams I remember from Sunday night during my Christmas vacation. Notice that they both feature public baths. When I woke up, I really needed to pee.

In which I am a king who takes part in a revolt to overthrow myself and am attacked by a fellow conspirator's decapitated head…

I’m a young, handsome king with long blonde locks but I’m disguised in Harlequin‘s broad hat and mask. There is a mob of people dressed in 17th century French clothes running through the streets of an old city hunting down four conspirators who are suspected of planning a revolt to overthrow me. Inexplicably, I am one of the four conspirators even though I am also the king. I’m standing in the shadows made by a gas fired lamp that shines down on a café, whispering with my fellow conspirator, a young man who is dressed like Baptiste the mime from Children of Paradise. When we hear the mob coming, we realize that we are soon to be discovered so we decide that the best thing to do is to blend in with the crowd.

We join the angry mob and begin shouting slogans of support for the king mixed with threats for those four who plan his overthrow. In the crowd, I find another conspirator, an older bearded man who is disguised as a peasant. I realize then that our entire plot has been interrupted by this mob and now there is nothing to do but get away safely. The “peasant” has my royal clothes under his coat and he hands them to me. When the crowd passes the public bath, I dart off into the building alone with my clothes and hide in a stall to change clothes.

I leave the stall dressed like a king once again with a large feathered cap like D‘Artagnan. People are standing in front of wide sinks of warm and soapy water washing their hands and hair. They recognize me and bow down. I look over their hunched backs and see a royal soldier standing at a bath, saluting. I walk over to him and ask him for a full report. Standing next to him is a short red-haired noble woman who is wearing a tiara and a burgundy velvet dress with puffy shoulder sleeves. She has shining green eyes and a blushed face. She is the fourth conspirator, but I pretend not to know who she is.

The royal soldier responds cryptically. He is asking me a series of questions that only the true king can answer to make sure that I’m not an imposter. When he is satisfied that I’m the king, he still looks at me suspiciously. He asks how I came to be in this public bath. I stomp my foot, straighten my back, and remind him of his place. I’m the king. I’ll ask the questions.

The soldier apologizes but it is apparent that he is suspicious that I, the king, am involved in my own attempted overthrow. Also I’m worried about the red-haired woman at his side. Has she been caught? I glance into her eyes briefly and see that she has not given me up. She’s told him nothing. I repeat my demand for a full report.

At this point, the soldier asks me a tricky question. He is sly and brave. If I answer in a way that will confirm that I am innocent of plotting my own overthrow, it will somehow also confirm that the woman at his side is one of the conspirators. But if I answer in a way that could save her life, it will reveal that I am, in fact, a traitor. All of my subjects at the bath are silent, listening for my response. The guard has his hand on his gun.

I do not hesitate. I answer with authority and indignation. The soldier cowers, apologizes for his suspicion and begs my forgiveness, all the while raising his gun to the red-haired woman’s head. She does not cry; she expected nothing less. The soldier shoots her in the neck. Her body tumbles over but her head flies off her shoulders.

To my horror, arms grow out of her ears and they start to crawl towards me with the decapitated head between them. Her green eyes are fierce and wild, and she howls with her teeth and tongue showing. I scream and fall over. As the head crawls towards me, I kick it in the face with my buckle toed boots but it keeps coming.

In which I attempt to organize a public bath after successfully organizing a public market…

I’m standing with my mother in front of a series of cabinets and drawers at a public bath. There are many rows of cups on the shelves, and the drawers are full of common bathroom items. The contents of the drawers are in disarray. As patrons walk into the public bath, they first stop at the drawers and rummage through them, looking for a particular item.

I’m organizing them by object, gathering all the razors in one place and all the shampoo in another. Then I put them into the cups on the shelves. I fill the drawers up with towels and toilet paper. My mom feels overwhelmed by these tasks and asks if I think there is any hope of bringing order or efficiency to this chaos.

I take her into the locker room and show her the contents of my locker. There I have arranged all of my supplies neatly and efficiently. She looks at this and is impressed. I tell her that one day, every locker and all the cabinets and drawers will look like this. She says that she wonders if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

I then take her outside and across the street. Now we are in India in a crowded produce market. Indians push and shout around the stalls and vendors manage the crowds. I ask my mom if she thinks it looks chaotic, and she tells me it does. Then I explain that before I came to this market, all the different vegetables and fruits were simply piled up in one big box without any organization by produce. I explained that it took me a really long time to sort it all out, but after I’d done it the people appreciated how much easier it was to shop. I admitted that I’d had less luck getting them to queue up.

As we walked around the vegetable market, I found lots of strange and new fruits that I’d never seen before. One was a red fruit with shiny skin and the texture of an apple but it was shaped like an acorn squash. I was eager to try it, and the vendor sliced one up for me. It tasted like a custard apple. I told the vendor how much I missed some of the fruit in India.

Here are two dreams I had on Saturday night over the Christmas vacation. Notice that they both feature giant birds. Also yet another appearance by a famous person.

In which my dog and I befriend a strange, red-eyed bird-horse…

I’m standing in my study looking out the backdoor and over the fence at a strange bird perched on the high limbs of one of my nextdoor neighbor’s pine trees. The bird is black and shaped like a peacock, but it is the size of a small mule. His head is red on top and his eyes are a series of in-laid geometric shapes with bright red beads in the middle. First there is a large black circle on top of which is a white triangle on top of which is a black square and so forth until we come to the beady red pupil that shines in the darkness. He has a small sharp orange beak and he squawks. It was the sound that made me step outside in the first place.

My dog Lucy comes to the door also, curious to know what has alerted me. When she sees the strange giant bird, she instantly jumps up into the pine tree as well. This frightens the bird, who then spreads his wings and flies to the second pine tree. His wingspan is easily eight feet across, and I notice that the wings have the black and white striped pattern of a common pileated woodpecker.

Lucy and the giant woodpecker sit perched up in the high limbs of the twin pine trees like birds on a wire. It’s a funny sight, and I’m surprised by it all. I walk back into my study and locate my Field Guide to the Birds of North America and flip through the pages to the section on woodpeckers. There, I read about the variations of pileated woodpeckers and notice some small print at the bottom which describes the strange geometric pattern around the eyes. It mentions nothing about the unusually large size of this bird, but it does say that this variation is friendly with dogs.

I go back outside and call Lucy to me. She leaps down out of the tree as if she’s done it her entire life, and it seems normal to me that she knows how to do this. She lands gracefully in my backyard and I give her a doggie treat. The bird sees this and swoops down off the limb and lands beside Lucy. I offer the bird a doggie treat too, but he does not want this. I pet him on the head and marvel at how big he is. Thinking that since he is as big as a horse that he might be as hungry as one too, I go into my kitchen and pull out a few stalks of celery and an apple that I keep for the horse that lives in the pasture behind my house. I offer these to the giant bird who eats them hurriedly.


In which Johnny Cash tries to avenge his friend’s murder but winds up drowning in an underwater crevasse…

I’m an important person in a Zacatecas, and people are gathered in a room outside my office waiting to meet with me. I know that Johnny Cash is among them and that he is looking to avenge the murder of his Sicilian friend. I ask my servant to show him in.

The man in black is in his early 50s and a little heavy around the middle. I stand up to shake his hand and thank him for coming. He responds politely and sets a pecan pie on my desk. He says he brought it as a gift, but I notice that there is a miniature scythe underneath the pie tin. I thank him for the pie and ask him to take a seat, then I sit across from him, behind my desk. In a dignified but down-to-business and booming voice, he calmly tells me that he has come for revenge because I’ve murdered his friend, the Sicilian. I do not deny the murder or betray any fear. Instead, I smile and casually explain why I killed his friend. We discuss the matter civilly, without any drama or insults.

In the end, we can’t come to an agreement and Johnny Cash challenges me to a duel. He lifts up the pecan pie that he’d set on my desk and exposes the scythe. He explains that he’d originally planned to cut my throat with it, but now that he sees that I’m a reasonable and honorable person, he wants to challenge me in an open and respectful manner. I tell him that I’d noticed the scythe as soon as he walked in, and I thank him for not slitting my throat.

We exit my office by the backdoor where I have a rollercoaster car waiting. We climb inside the roller coaster and head out into the jungle which is somehow very near my office even though we are in Zacatecas. The jungle is dense with banyan trees with intricate networks of roots and vines. We shake hands and then begin to fist fight. I immediately run towards a chasm. I know the jungle well and am able to navigate the terrain without a map or light. Johnny Cash doesn’t do as well, and he is soon lost in the woods. I hide down into the chasm until I see him running up to the edge. He is out of breath and I start to feel sorry for him. But I carry out my plan anyway and throw a bunch of vines towards his wrists and ankles, lassoing him like a cowboy catching a bull at a rodeo. I pull him down.

Johnny Cash lay on the ground hogtied. I climb up to him and speak to him respectfully. I don’t want to kill him, but I also know that if I don’t give him the opportunity to save face that he will just attack me once he is free. I pull out a hunting knife and cut the vines that bind his wrists but I leave his ankles tied. Now he can sit up and move about with some dignity. I explain again why I killed his Sicilian friend and how it was not personal and how I hope that he will stay out of the matter. He tells me again that he must avenge his friend’s death. I tell him that I will not kill him, but in that case must leave him bound by the ankles in the jungle overnight. I leave, knowing that he will eventually untie his ankles though it might take a while.

Meanwhile, I climb up a tree and out of the jungle. It turns out that the jungle is located within a giant warehouse in the colonial part of Zacatecas. I sit at a table in the warehouse and watch Johnny Cash untie his ankles down in the jungle. When he is finally free, he walks over to a pond to wash the mud off his face and clothes. Eventually he jumps in for a swim which I know is a dangerous idea. I jump off the table and run back into the jungle to warn him, but it is too late.

At the bottom of the pond is a deep crevasse, similar to what one might find high up in glacial regions of mountains. Johnny Cash has fallen through the pond and into the crevasse. I think about him slowly slipping deeper and deeper into the crevasse and wouldn’t wish the horror on my worst enemy. But there is no way for me to rescue him without falling into the crevasse myself.

The jungle is shrinking at this point so that it takes up only a small room in the warehouse. I run to a telephone and dial 911. I explain the emergency but the ambulance driver needs an exact location. I tell him that I’m at the warehouse with the jungle inside, but this is not precise enough. He needs a street address. I put him on hold and run out the main door of the warehouse to read the address.

The door slams behind me and I’m standing in a narrow alley with cobblestone roads between colonial style buildings that have been constructed together to share walls and flat roofs. I realize that there is no way that an ambulance will be able to fit down these alley roads. I turn around, dejected, but find that the door has locked behind me. I walk out back to the alley road and look both right and left but see nothing but a labyrinth of alleyways. I’m afraid to leave my spot because I don’t want to get lost. Suddenly I notice that there is a sculpture of a giant red chicken directly in front of the warehouse doors. I climb on the back of the bird, up its neck and then sit on top of its crested head. From there I look over the tops of the rows of buildings and alleyways spread out up and down hills as far as I can see. I realize that I’ll never be able to find my way out of the city and that the only way I’ll ever get back home is to jump back into the jungle before it disappears.

I try to climb back down the chicken, but it is very difficult to find places to put my feet. I concentrate carefully on making sure that I have a foothold before I move my other foot or hand. I slowly work my way back down the chicken. The climb down is so difficult and so dangerous that at one point I briefly realize I’m dreaming. I reflect on how frequently I have a dream in which I must scale great heights without the aid of climbing equipment and I remember that I almost never fall. This brings a little comfort and confidence, and I eventually make it back to the ground. I try the warehouse doors again, and this time I’m happy to find them unlocked.

Now the warehouse is the site of a conference of American and Mexican teachers, all of whom sit at the type of folding tables that seat students in public school cafeterias. The teachers each have a colorful plastic basket in front of them in which there are several cheap and cutesy items including a fake feather, a rubber squeeze ball and several pencils decorated with cartoon characters. I rush in front of the crowd and explain that Johnny Cash is struggling in a crevasse at the bottom of the pond in the shrinking jungle and that if we don’t get to him soon, he will die. I need their assistance in saving him. They just carry on with their conference, discussing how the useless items in the plastic trays will revolutionize public school education and save the future of both their countries. I roll my eyes in disgust and run back to the jungle.

By now, the jungle has been reduced to a small aquarium. When I look down into it, I see that the trees and terrain are all made of plastic. They are pushed into ice like beer bottles set in an ice chest. I simply pull all the jungle items out of the ice and toss them from the aquarium. At the bottom I find the pond which is now only a mass of wrinkled tin foil. I take it out and find Johnny Cash in its folds. He is the size of a GI Joe action figure, and he is dead.

In which the horse in the pasture behind my house breaks his leg...

The sweet horse that lives in the pasture behind my house learned to leap over the fence and knock on my door with his nose when he wanted a carrot or an apple. I happily fed him and brushed him. We became good friends. He hung out in the yard in with my dog all day, and then in the evening I told him he had to jump back over the fence to go home or else his owners would be angry.

He tried to hop back over the fence, but his front hoof got hung on the wire and he fell, breaking his leg. He rolled over on his back and whimpered in pain. It was really upsetting. I bandaged up his leg and then walked around the block to his owner's house. They were having a costume party, so I let myself inside and looked for them. I explained what had happened and that their horse was in my backyard with a bandaged leg. They told me that he'd have to stay there for now to be safe. Most of them were dressed in drag. Several of the men were wearing the sort of outfit that saloon girls wear in old Western movies, and the women all had handlebar mustaches painted on their faces. Before they let me leave to go back home, they put a wig on my head and gave me a cigar.

Holidays are ending. Really poor recall. I expect things to go back to normal soon.

In which I watch a YouTube video...

Or maybe I really watched a YouTube video and then dreamt about it? I don't know. But I searched YouTube and couldn't find it.

I'm watching a video on YouTube. It's a jingle about how people like things like themselves. We like little versions of real things. There were lots of pictures of people looking at cute miniatures. A smiling girl holding a matchbox car. Kids playing with stuffed puppies. Then it became a cartoon and the jingle started saying, "People like to make mini people". It showed a video of lots of little cartoon babies- pink, blue, yellow, green babies all falling down the screen. Then the jingle became a rocker. "Stop making people! People, stop making people!"

Is this real? Or is there something real like that on YouTube that I got mixed up with other images in my dream? Or did I dream it all up?

Trying to delete this failed attempt.