side notes

Has simply trying to do something about my subconscious visitors done the trick? Also, Inception mind-screwed me quite nicely. Loving it.

The first thing I remember was the second level of the dream. I was dreamscaping, doing a favor for the landlord of an apartment building that was a strange hybrid of the house where I grew up and the apartment building where I live now. I never manage to dream about any building where I actually live, if I do I know it's an OBE. Hasn't happened for some time, though.

I can't remember what the second level was, but it dealt with my old dollhouse (Haha, Christopher Nolan!) and I was wrapping metallic gold thread around something, like a small spool or something but it felt like a craft of some kind. I think the small something was soft.

I was lucid on a certain level, that the second level was a dream. A phone call woke me to the first level, which was not lucid. I vaguely remember returning to the second level, because I remember playing out some of the cliches of Inception (How did I get here???). But the phone turned out to be my Dad calling to say "Hello." We chatted about what was going on, I told him about the favor, and I mentioned that I smelled an odd kind of smoke. Dad became Overprotective Dad, getting all skittish that something was wrong. I told him that it was probably just the heater (apparently, this smell was normal?) and that any tenant could fix it so the handyman neighbor would probably be down soon to deal with it.

I got off the phone and wandered downstairs to find the landlord (who was somehow Willem Dafoe...) talking with the handyman neighbor who doesn't exist IRL. I mentioned quietly that the favor was done, and the neighbor said that something was very wrong with the heater. Dafoe made a crack that he wasn't getting much of his investment back on THIS building and left without doing anything. I made a comment about him being a slumlord, and woke up.

This time I was so confused at the first level being a dream that IRL I started checking for oddities. Pinch hurts, and I'm in my own apartment, though I always think that I'm in my own home so I COULD be wrong. And Hubby's here, more evidence that I'm awake. I even broke my first rule of surreality by looking into a mirror and a dark window. Freddy Kreuger's not there. I still haven't looked too closely at the TV, though. No nerve.