side notes

I remember trying to sleep in a bed located in my former neighbor's carport. I'm covered and slightly behind something but I have a slight view of someone moving about and trying to steal something about 15 feet in front of me. I'm hidden slightly so I know they can't tell I'm awake as they lurk about.

The outlined shape of a woman resolves itself and I can tell that the blurry shape is actually the next-door neighbor. She is trying to be stealthy and get behind me so I discretely keep one eye on her movements. She picks up a book from the table behind me and I realize it's my copy of Half-Asleep in Frog Pajamas by Tom Robbins. I can even see the cover clearly.

**Despite this, I don't think of the author's name until I'm awake.**

The woman is about to step away from the table and I say, "It's a good book." She stops, looks at me knowing she's caught.

"Does he have any other good books?" She asks me in a quavery older-woman voice.

"Of course," I reply. "There's [U]Even Cowgirls Get The Blues[/U] and Skinny Legs And All...I think my favorite is Jitterbug Perfume. Oh, and Still Life With Woodpecker."

I'm impressed that I can recall all these titles in a dream and I realize I'm dreaming at the same moment.

After that all I really recall is being near a Laundromat and the walls opening out from the building. I had to get up too early and should have worked on recall instead of waking my daughter for school. ;)

This dream ranks among the most detailed dreams I've had, especially the lucid moments playing with the water. I've left out plenty of descriptive details that I just don't have enough time for, but I've tried to preserve the scenes and imagery. The color blue is still pervasive. This is a long dream.

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The scene takes place in the house I grew up in, a houselocated atop a tree-covered ridge with a row of back windows that face west. Iloved that house and especially that yard, but in this dream the house issuddenly located in Canada. I’ve never actually been to Canada but it must haveseemed like a good place to be for a dream.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A storm is coming, a sight not unusual for west-facingwindows, but this one is particularly large. The winds of the storm areswirling like a hurricane, or perhaps oversized tornado, and have a blue tintto many of the swirls. I connect this to ice and a severe storm, as well asthoughts of being in Canada. Despite this some part of me knows this storm isimpossible, whether I’m in Canada or not.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]Something tells me that I need to be on the lookout for apair of kids with broken arms, injuries recently sustained while escaping thestorm possibly. I don’t remember a phone call or message but somehow I justknow. As I think about them the stormsuddenly throws out several bolts of lightning indicating it is close enough toreally be a potential threat very soon.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I suddenly turn to the room I’m in, occupied by a couple ofother people, and say, “Why haven’t we taken the kids to the hospital yet?!” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I walk from the room and outside to the car, a cross betweenmy SUV, a car, and some kind of large toy. Driving the vehicle is an actualchallenge as it seems to be solely operated by the steering wheel. I swerve allover the road and as I reach the end of the block I’m lucky to make the turnwithout crashing into the rock wall that lines the outer edge of one person’sproperty. What’s especially weird is that I’m I Canada yet my childhoodneighborhood is perfectly preserved in my mind, right down to the dust on theroad at the corner.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The lighting of the scene is that of early morning, and Idecide it must be six A.M. I’m approaching an intersection with a cross-streetand I have to stop, though my vehicle is very slow to respond. Ahead of meseveral children are approaching the intersection from the side and one is evencrossing with his bike right in front of me, prompting me to slam on the brake.The car slows with a frightening lag and I become scared I’m going to hit theyoung boy on his way to the bus stop, but as the motion ceases I get mad andwonder why in hell he would be going to school at six in the morning.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]On the cross-street a grey cube-car, initially headedtowards the same intersection, abruptly turns around and heads back the way itcame. This seems suspicious to me, and I turn to follow it. I have to stopshort as the car is moving at a very slow speed, and my suspicions disappear asmy displeasure with their speed rises. I have kids to get to the hospital afterall.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In front of the slow cube-car is another vehicle goingequally slow, and I can’t wait any longer. I zoom around both cars as weapproach a bend in the road, and as I am about to move back over into the laneI am brought face-to-face with an oncoming car. I swerve violently and my carmoves out of the way of the approaching vehicle, but I overcompensate andswerve back across the road after they pass. This time luck has deserted me andI crash into the curb, running into the grass of a house I visited as a teen.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]After standing there with my hands on my hips for a fewminutes just staring at the wrecked car I decide to head back to the hotel. Iskip over the return trip and find myself already experiencing the luxury ofthe hotel I’m booked in for a conference I’m attending, and still in Canada. Myfriends are waiting on me.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In the hotel room the atmosphere is quite sedate compared tomy earlier location. The room is spacious, with white walls and curtains andseems large enough for a dozen people or more to share. I seem to be on somekind of tour, and I’ve been led into the spacious and relaxing bathroom. Awoman is taking a bath but she gets up as we enter, allowing me to see the trueluxury of this hotel.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The bath itself is situated like a mountain stream. Thebather sits in a slanted trough with a rest at their back containing the watercontrols. Their body below mid-thigh rests on a slope with polished river rocksforming the bottom of the tub, the water diffusing down through the rockssomewhere near the end of the tub instead of a traditional drain. The rate ofthe water going out of the tub is the same as the water coming in, and thisallows the water to fill the tub and seem to remain still without appearinglike it is in constant motion.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I bring my face closer to the water surface and the termartesian well enters my mind. This is the true luxury of this hotel, wellbeyond any of the other amenities, and I can’t wait to bathe in it. The view ofthe water brings me to lucidity and I spend the next several minutes simplystaring at the water and the rocks below, watching light shimmer and reflectalong the bottom of the tub. Few sights have ever brought me as much pleasureas watching a flowing stream, something I associate with the Pisces in me. Idip my hands in the water and watch as the ripples trail from my fingers, adazzle of light that is truly captivating. The water was warm when I enteredthe room but as I play in it the water becomes cool and clear, just the way Iwant it.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The room is open to the west, and oddly I never see anyglass. The sun is low in the western sky and the pretty colors are starting tocome out, something you can only truly appreciate from a high vantage pointlike the hill this hotel sits on. It’s this view that puts the finishing touchon the luxury of this bathroom.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I stand and walk back into the main part of the hotel room.I see a couple of my friends but something is nagging at the back of my mind.With a puzzled look on my face I say, “Where are those kids?” No one sitting inthe room seems to know but they start getting up to look for them as thoughthey were lost keys hidden in the room. I turn to the curtains behind me andpart them, revealing a sliding glass door which leads to an interior patio usedfor seating and watching the outside without having to experience the heat orcold. Here I find the boys, lying on sleeping bags, and apparently their brokenarms have been taken care of with casts, though they still look severelyinjured.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Some movement catches my eye in the darkened room and as myfocus adjusts I see a pair of raccoons has invaded the room through the openexternal patio door. They appear to be digging for snacks the boys have left aroundin the room, the remainders of a night of recovery from their injuries. Myentrance has startled them, and a third raccoon on the external patio isalready scurrying away.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The raccoons run through the open door and I give chase.From the patio-deck they jump onto a low roof and around the corner of thehotel. It appears dark outside but as I come around the corner I see it is justa deep shadow created by the setting sun. The trio of raccoons has become afamily, and they scurry along the roof to the edge of the building where theyjump to an outcropping of rock. Limestone hills surround the hotel and leadtowards a small meadow at the edge of the property. The raccoons run throughthis meadow and jump off a cliff to some nearby trees. It looks dangerous and Iwonder if they sustain injury doing this, but they seem to reach the bottomjust fine. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My attention turns to the view of the sunset, fading colorslike fire dying in the sky. It’s a beautiful scene, and I wish I could linger,but I really need to get back to the hotel room, and in particular I need toget off the roof before it gets dark. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Climbing out onto the roof had been easy, a mere walk/runonto the gently sloped surface. Going back was not so smooth. I watched myfriend who I don’t remember being on the roof at all climb from the level I’mstanding on to a higher level that leads back to the room. The other roof isabout five feet above where I am and I don’t feel confident that I can make it,especially with the spiny cactus that has slid into place right in my path. Iknow I’m going to have to hold onto this cactus to get up but the tiny spinesare too difficult to grab onto comfortably, and I give up. I decide the bestcourse of action is to jump down to the ground floor below.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I land in the back of the building, a parking lot/loadingarea for the hotel’s restaurant. Immediately a Greek man walks up to me andasks me if I want to order breakfast. I feel a little surprised at hisforwardness, having never ordered breakfast from the loading area before. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Well, I am hungry…” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Before I have even had a chance to talk about what I wouldlike to eat the man is calling out to someone to prepare another breakfast itemfor me. I have to hastily stop him before he can complete the sentence.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Hold on. I don’t even know if I’m going to like what it is.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]He leads me further into the kitchen loading area where foodis stacked on high wheeled carts and shelves. His breakfast offering islikewise filling shelves on a cart, and it looks a little greener than Iusually care for in a breakfast item. The appearance is something like a smalltomato cake with jalapeno seeds and cabbage, a description that defiesimagination but seems to be very Greek in appearance. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Can I try it?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]He won’t give me a whole one to try but instead hands me asmall piece of the green leafy substance that surrounds the outer part of the Greekcake wheel. It’s bitter and creamy for aleaf, an unusual combination that he seems enthralled with but I just don’tcare for it. I thank him and walk back to the room, still hungry but happy Ididn’t let him push his odd food on me.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In the room I sit down on the bed. My friends have left theroom to enjoy the night, and I’m alone with only the glow of a couple lamps tokeep me company. A few feet away a fax machine sits on a small table and it isspewing out a rather long document. I assume it’s printing out a message fromDream Views and I ignore it at first, walking over to sit at the nearby writingtable to do a little work. When I look again at the fax a moment later Irealize it’s printing out my entire address book of contacts, including privateinformation that I have notated with each name. I can only presume this wasgenerated by a computer error and I feel glad I was in the room when thishappened. If I had been out enjoying myself still I would have missed the printand sensitive information would have fallen into the wrong hands. I’m onlystaying in the hotel for one night and if this had occurred the next nightanother guest would have found this treasure-trove of a document.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I continue writing at the desk for a minute or two and whenI’m finished I sit back down on the bed. Since no one is around this seems likea good time to touch myself, and I slip down my shorts to my ankles. It doesn’ttake me long to get lost in the activity.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’ve had my eyes closed while I enjoy myself, ignoring mysurroundings, but when I open my eyes I see that the deckchairs outside thewindow which I presumed were unoccupied actually had people lying on them. Ihad not been able to see the people because the backs of the chairs faced thewindow, and now I’m sitting here on the bed touching myself and completelyvisible. Even worse, one of the people is standing and I recognize him.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Aagghh!!”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I utter a small scream and duck down behind the bed. In fullview of me and my self-pleasure is the hotel manager, standing next to one ofthe deck chairs and talking to a woman. He is dressed casually, a whitebutton-down loosely flowing in the breeze over a wife-beater t-shirt. He’s abalding man, likely in his fifties, with beady eyes and glasses that tend topeer down over his slight belly. The woman with him is clearly not his wife.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m doing my best to become invisible behind the bed, evengoing so far as to hold up a small towel over my face. My legs seem to besticking out past the end of the bed and I can’t pull them up any closer. Ipeek out from behind my rag as one of the staff members comes up to the man andtalks with him in a hurried manner. I’m pretty sure the man has seen me,judging by the look on his face and his continuous peeking in my direction. Ican’t tell what they’re actually saying but it is enough to draw the manageraway from his date. I feel that he told the staff member that he saw me and he’sunhappy about it, while the staff member probably said if he knows what’s goodfor him he’ll forget he saw me because I could expose him and his mistress tohis wife.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Whatever is said the man leaves without confronting me and Ican finally get up. My friends are sitting nearby on different beds and two ofthem are laughing at me and the situation, knowing I almost got caught twice.Thankfully I have escaped the uncomfortable events and all seems well.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

I liked this dream despite a few strange elements. It's the first dream I've ever had where I purposefully chose my gender during the dream, one of the best transformations ever!

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The school day has started and I am walking the halls asthough a student, a backpack slung over my shoulder. I feel like a spy, oragent of some police force sent to figure out who is selling drugs or testscores, though nothing I see or do suggests this. It’s just a feeling.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I head down a set of stairs to my classroom, and the area iscluttered with people standing outside the door. It seems class isn’t open yet,and the bustle of people around me is causing quite a jam, spilling onto thestairs as well. Looking over at some of the people coming down the stairs Irealize they all have their blue books, ready to head to their class. I don’thave a blue book, or perhaps my teacher doesn’t use them, but I really feel Ishould have one of the blue books.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As we stand there it becomes clear that some other teacherhas left the campus for some unknown reason, and their students were sent to myclass as there was no other place to send them. I can’t imagine what it is thatwould drive a teacher to leave so abruptly and cause their class to have tocombine with another. It must have been serious.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We finally are let into the classroom and allowed to findseats as best we can. Standing there I feel a little anxious about not having myblue book, a feeling of confusion that we should have them but no one in sightexcept for the other class has brought them. I sit down at a desk with my backto the wall, the open doorway to my right and beyond the girl sitting next tome. People in the class start pairing up and sharing their blue books, and Ilook around to see if anyone is near me that will share. The girl sitting nextto me (on the right) is cute and she smiles at me before bumping her deskcloser to mine. A book is open on her desk and it’s clear she means to let mesee it also but I don’t believe it is the blue book we’re supposed to have.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]In the row in front of me and diagonally to my right isanother cute girl, and she doesn’t mind sharing her book with me. She’s not as sexy-cute as thefirst girl but still very pretty, and her willingness to help me out is atremendous relief. At the front of the class a video is showing, displayed onan older tube-style TV on a stand. Not many people seem to be paying attentionto it and I find I am distracted by the girl before me, more so as she reachesback to me and we hold hands on a blanket that has appeared between us. I feelgrateful the teacher can not see us holding hands below the folds of the lumpyblanket.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The teacher has to leave class for a few minutes, presumablyto use the bathroom, and oddly he puts on his sport coat, a brownish tweedjacket that is a relic from years past. He hands me the remote for the TV and Ipresume it is because I am the oldest, and likely the most responsible, in theclass. It’s long and similar to the remote for my Sony TV so I feel comfortablebeing in control of the video, and I think he knew this. He walks out and thedoor shuts behind him.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]With the door shut and the teacher gone, the paired upcouples in the classroom begin making out. It’s rather surprising for aclassroom that so many people would be able to hook up so quickly, though I’mnot opposed to the behavior. To enhance the mood someone changes the TV programto a pornographic movie though it doesn’t seem to encourage people to watch theTV. The girl I had been holding hands with has gotten up from her seat and hasmoved closer to the TV stand so she has room to smoke her bong. I’m impressedthat she has been able to get a bong into school, and I observe her take in arather large hit of smoke.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]My friend Pearce has also been smoking weed and he seems tobe talking to me about the experience, though I’m barely listening. He hasbecome super-high, he tells me, and he definitely prefers this effect over theeffects of Ecstasy. This prompts me to reach into my backpack and pull out astring of blue pills, similar to a candy necklace, and I break one off and popit into my mouth. I hold the string upto his view and say, “I much prefer Ecstasy to weed.” I then lower the stringinto a film canister, placing a few coins on top to keep the pills from pryingeyes should I ever be investigated.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Walking around a couple desks and up to the front of theclass by the TV I reach my hand out to the girl I had been holding hands with.She extends her hand and shakes mine. “I never got to properly meet youearlier.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I’m Cat.” Her hand is soft.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]At this moment I become completely lucid and debate how I shouldanswer her. I could go female or male, and during this time my appearance seemsto take on a fluid appearance, a shifting of colors and swirls that I can seealong my arms and legs. Guessing her to be more attracted to males and unlikelyto be a lesbian I decide to go with male and my form immediately solidifies.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I’m Charles.” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My clothes have changed, and I’m wearing a light-blue denimshirt. I can feel a goatee on my face and my hair is now short. It’s a weirdfeeling being in this body but it seems to suit the situation better. I feelmore confident that she and I will make out soon.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]Sniffing the air I have a moment of clarity and realize weneed to clear out the pot smoke from the room. I start looking around for some other source of smell, something worthyof opening a window. Behind me is an open doorway leading into a small bathroomand a rather homely-looking boy is sitting on the toilet. My gaze is returnedby a smile filled with braces gone wild, and a slight wave. In my mind Iidentify him as Dumpy-Humphrey, mainly because of his similarity to a boy Iwent to school with. [/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]The pooping boy is a good start but I know we will needsomething more. I really need something stronger, something everyone hates.With a burst of courage and a lack of shame I shout to the class, “I need agirl to throw up!” I request a girlbecause they’re more likely to be acquainted with sticking their finger down their throat and puking.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Thankfully one of the girls obliges and makes a nice spot inthe corner. Good. I explain to the other girl I thought was cute; “We couldopen up a window now because of the smell, to air things out and not besuspicious.” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]Knowing the teacher is likely returning any second I take aquick look around the room. The TV is still on and the people on the screenseem awfully familiar, and look suspiciously like the people in the porn movieThe Room which Adult Swim likes to air on April Fool’s Day. Oh my God, I think,is the TV still showing PORN??!! No, it’sokay, I realize it’s just the show from earlier and someone has kindly switchedit back from the adult movie during the time I was looking for someone to throwup. All is well.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

So, in this dream I had a couple moments of lucidity and I even had thoughts of a fellow DV member, though sadly I never got to find them or interact with them. I hope they show up in a dream again. It would seriously help me in the Competition Thread.

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I find myself downtown on the south side of the river, and I’mheaded to the U.T. Law Center, represented in my dream by an oversized versionof the Palmer Events Center, round and taller than any of the other structuresalong the river shore.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Since I seem to lack transportation I hitch a ride withthree young women who appear to have recently been swimming at Barton Springs.All are wearing bikini tops and loose skirts, tan skin showing their dedicationto the sun. I seem to know these women pretty well though I can’t recall everspeaking any of their names out loud. I’m glad they picked me up. The day iswarm and the walk would have been long.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We’re driving in a large convertible, something left overfrom the 70’s I suspect. It’s wide with a heavy body, painted an off-whitecolor though I think it’s just the age of the exterior that makes it look thisway. As we turn into the parking lot for the Law Center the car bounces usaround and into each other, but no one complains. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The parking lot is bumpy and unpaved but as we progressthrough it the ride becomes smoother. The ground, previously dry and uniform,is now a rocky surface covered with water varying in depth from a couple inchesto just over a foot. The water is clear despite being in a well-traveledparking lot, and I connect this to the thoughts about the women swimming. Theview of this terrain brings me to lucidity, knowing that I should be in aparking lot formerly occupied by a Mexican restaurant and a Hooters. The wateris way too blue in spots to even exist in its present form. I rarely see thisshade of blue and the word ‘azure’ comes into my mind.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3] Though I had beensitting in the back seat of the car I suddenly find myself on the back of theyoung woman who had been driving, and the other women disappear. The car isalso gone, and somehow we are gliding over the terrain. I seem to bepiggybacked onto the young woman, and as she looks over her left shoulder at meI lay my head against her back, my face against her skin between her shoulderblades. She is soft, warm, and it feels nice to be close to her. The vividnessof being lucid allows me to examine her skin in detail, though I remainrespectful and resist the urge to nuzzle as she is quickly carrying me to mydestination. I do give her the briefest of kisses, and I think about how I missbeing held.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We seem to have no trouble avoiding the bumps and notstepping majorly into the water, and in no time I find myself entering themassive complex, the women all left to go their own way. I walk in and beginworking my way to the third floor. The levels are separated by a curving slopedpassageway that surrounds the exterior of the building, windows all along theoutside, as if I’m walking up the threads of a massive screw. The third floorof this building is as high as the twelfth floor of any ordinary structure.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]At the end of the curve on the third floor I find myselfjust outside the Civil Liberties Center, a place where I know I can get helpfor my friend who has been erroneously imprisoned. With the outside windows tomy right I am facing the entrance to my destination. To my left is a corridor,and beside that is a bathroom. The halls are separated by a gray door, thecovering of a large electrical panel. I wonder briefly about the wisdom ofplacing electrical access in the main hallway but I do not stick around toponder the question. My friend is in need.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Entering the Civil Liberties Center I am almost disappointedby how understated the room is. The room is less than 20 feet wide and perhapsnot more than 15 feet deep. A large counter spans the space between walls, andbehind it is a tall and rather thin hippie, busy at work stacking hundreds ofpublications into piles, all of which have some kind of orange lettering on thecover. His skin is sickly white, as though he hasn’t seen sun in years. He iswearing a loose shirt and some very tight blue-jean shorts that extend to justabove his knees, allowing his pasty legs to be visible. I think he may bewearing a hat but it wasn’t important enough to remember. He grins as he works,a scary look for his appearance, and it seems as if he has forgotten what asmile is supposed to represent. I’m a little creeped out by him. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A curved wall is to my right, and outside the window I cansee a long above-ground covered walkway leading into the nearby building, somesort of processing complex that I may need to visit next. I’m not entirely surewhat it is though I suspect it’s where Sivason is being held. I can’t see howit connects to the building I am in but it looks like it could be on the floorbelow me. I don’t recall passing any access point.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m standing against the curved wall, my back pressedagainst it as I try to keep out of the way. To my right is another personstanding just as I am, dressed mostly in black and much younger than me. Theyhave a subversive look to them, as though they are here to cause trouble. Ilook past him and my gaze is upon the piles of publications, my efforts turnedto deciphering the lettering on the cover. I have to strain to get a glimpse Ican focus on, and as the lettering resolves itself I see it has the logo of theUniversity of Texas on the cover. Instantly I am uninterested, knowing thatnothing they publish could help me in my situation. Before the logo becameclear I had considered picking up a copy to see what it was, but I no longercare.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As my gaze turns back towards the room I become aware of thesecurity guard standing perhaps three feet in front of me. He’s a black man ina bright blue uniform and he is staring at me intently. His eyes areunsettling, and I feel slightly threatened.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The young man standing next to me mutters the word “protest”,and I’m not sure if he is at the Center to protest or he protests the behaviorof the security guard. Either way the word provokes a reaction from the man infront of me.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“You know what we do to people who protest around here?” Hespeaks slowly and his voice has clear malice in it.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Not wanting to seem bothered, and feeling slightly annoyed,I reply, “Give them a cookie?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Second-guessing myself and deciding I probably shouldn’tupset the man, I decide to humor him and make an allowance for his overtly rudedemeanor.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“No, what?” I try not to sound condescending.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]“We string them up by their feet and leave them.” His threat is unveiled, and though hiswording is rather vague I’m filled with the impression that I don’t want to beleft anywhere by him.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The hippie behind the counter, who has been quiet up to now,suddenly chimes in.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Heh, you better believe him!” His voice sounds old andcracks like he hasn’t been drinking enough fluids. His creepy smile only addsto the effect, completing the appearance of someone who has lost his ability todeduce reality.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I roll my eyes in disgust for both of them and simply walkout, back to the hallway I was in previously. I think my next goal will be totry the other station that is slightly down the side corridor I passed on myway in. In the mean time I feel angry, and my compulsion to express that angerleads me to hang a large book from the edge of the electrical panel, danglingby a thick elastic cord. In my mind I know this will upset them and get evenwith them for my poor treatment, though I can’t even imagine how it would causeanyone grief. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I never seem to make it to the other counter and I’m insteadovertaken by my need to use the bathroom. I walk into a room that is not partof the complex I had been in, white stucco walls giving me the impression ofbeing inside a house from my past. The room is large for a bathroom, spacious,and the main furnishing is a toilet set against a small outcropping of wall.Beyond the potty is a hallway leading into a closet pass-through and a bedroomwith two people in it.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The toilet has a thick, padded seat on it, and it’s an oddsensation to experience below my butt. Finishing my business on the toilet Ireach for the handle to flush it and the loud sound of water swirling in thebowl fills the room. I look at the toilet as I realize the swirl is toointense, and some of the water is going too high. The seat and lid is slightlyaskew where it’s attached and this allows water to splash on the floor and thewall. My irritation at the thought of having to take care of this is almostenough to make me cry.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Reaching for the toilet paper as the closest source ofabsorbency I begin sopping up the spills. Some of the liquid seems to be mixedwith pee that has stained the floor and the bottom of the wall next to thetoilet. As I reach maximum capacity for each lump of toilet paper I throw itinto the corner to soak up any water it can handle, knowing that I will stillhave to clean up that mess.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Behind me is a large bucket, similar to the 5-gallon stylefound at any local hardware store. Water has splashed on it also, and I reachover to pour it off, not expecting the deluge that pours off the lip of thebucket just below the lid. My feet are wet, the floor is wet, and now I haveeven more mess to clean up. At least the spill is just water, and I continuepouring, watching as the fluid splashes and dances in the light spilling intothe room from a high window. This is my last glimpse of lucidity.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

After poor rest for a couple days and a major headache I managed to do a WBTB and have some great lucidity.

Plus, I continue to dream of celebrities. At least this time they were naked.


[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]I find myself in my old house, the one I grew up in for nearlyall of my adolescence. The living roomis arranged differently, and it’s messier than I would like. I’ve apparentlyjust woken up from a nap or something and I’ve been sleeping on the floor, thepillow and bedmat beneath me testimony to this fact. I am grumpy, and some ofmy disgruntled feelings are directed at my son.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In front of my pillow is his backpack, and seeing as how heisn’t in the room I decide it’s time I check to see what he’s been taking toand from school. I pull the zipper down on the black bag and I am greeted withpapers, folders, and some trash that is not out of place at all among hisstuff. I’m not interested in any of this, and I dig deeper, reaching for whatlies at the bottom of the bag. Here I find some plastic toys, and I pull outpiece after piece of what appears to be a babies toy desighned for teething. Ican’t even fathom why he would be taking so many baby toys to school, brightlycolored and clearly intended for someone much younger than him. All I can do isshake my head in disbelief.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Beyond these pieces of toy I also find a blue plasticdrinking cup, and this literally makes me roll my eyes. I keep finding thesecups everywhere, and I just want it gone. With a flick of my right hand I shootthe cup into the air, intending for it to land a few feet from me, but the fanabove and the air conditioner carry it further towards the middle of the roomwhere it hits Jen on her side as she sleeps in the recliner. She stirs andturns her face towards me, sleepily asking, “What?!” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, or even for thecup to hit you. It was the fan.” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Indeed the fan above is spinning quite fast, though as I saythis I doubt myself, thinking maybe I did mean for it to hit her. I can seethat there’s no way, physically, that the wind from the combined fans couldever send the cup to hit her, especially from the angle with which itdescended. The only thing I can presume is that I did it on purpose.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Next time don’t throw it so hard!” She rolls over to goback to sleep, still covered by the red and green horse blanket.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]I look at my hand to wonder how I could have made the cupfly so far, and this induces lucidity. I quickly count my fingers, noting thateverything appears normal. I know I don’tbecome aware of my hands often so I’m pleased to recognize the sign for what itwas. My right hand touches my left and I’m surprised to find my hand is solid,warm, and unyielding. What I see as I turn my hand around almost makes me startleout of the dream.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]On the palm of my left hand I have a sore, almost like adark blister, directly below my little finger. I use my right hand to squeezeit and it bursts like a large pimple, pus and blood squirting into my righthand. I’m disgusted but I don’t feel sick despite what I have done, and myfirst thought is to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. I know I’m dreaming yetI look around to make sure no one has seen me, feeling slightly embarrassed tohave a burst hand-pimple. A vague thought about a magician crosses my mind butI can’t seem to find anything to connect it to.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I head to my bedroom, the one down the hall and on the left,just where it had been when I grew up. The bed and walls are primarily thesame, as are some of the belongings, but the shelves along the west wall arevery different. I had put shelves up once in real life but the shelves I’mseeing are sunk into my wall. Boxes line them from one end to the other, andspringy black coils stick out of a couple of them.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]It turns out that when I left my old job I took quite a fewof the binding supplies with me. Black binding coils of every size fill theshelves, though this causes me no great concern. What does surprise me is thatI have a box of the special order vinyl pockets we used for maps and largedrwaings, and it is full. These vinyl pockets were quite expensive, I remember,and I feel surprised I took them at all. Still, they are quite useful. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As I flip through them, using my finger to page themone-by-one, someone behind me asks, “What will you do when you run out?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I could just ask Curt to get me afew. He still works there.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“How many would you get?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Not more than five at most.” I say this knowing I wouldn’twant him to get in trouble and that five seemed a reasonable number to walkaway with.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I stand up from my kneeling position and let my gaze passover the shelves towards the door to my room, slightly closed. Something lookswrong with it and at first I’m unsure if it’s crooked. As I stare I realize itis indeed slanted, and I walk up to it with greater curiosity. When I approach theproblem becomes clear. Someone has attached the hinges of the door directly tothe wall using drywall mounts that are starting to pull out of the wall. Themounts don’t look like the usual hooks that spread out on the inside of a wall,appearing instead like translucent plugs that merely push into a hole.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I think to myself, “I can fix that. Not today, but somedaysoon.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I walk back into the living room and stand near the back ofthe recliner chair. I can see my bed-mat in the far corner, and my son is on mypillow with his head, his butt sticking up in the air.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Son, get off my pillow!” I don’t shout but the tone in myvoice suggests he should comply quickly. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]To my right and in front of me is a large TV, almost like asmall movie screen, and it is showing an old black and white movie starringBruce Willis and Michael Caine. Both men are detectives trying to find amurderer, and both men are naked. They hold a conversation in a room with apotted plant and a small upholstered bench, their penises dangling from side toside as if in perpetual motion.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My scene shifts and I am co-host on a talk show, though Ifeel slightly underdressed in my tank-top and shorts. Still, none of theaudience seems to mind so I just go with it. Behind me is a platform with lotsof colored lights and what appears to be a game-show set, though I can’t figureout what the game is. It seems unimportant as I realize I’m standing next tothe special guest, Bruce Willis.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I look up at him and I become lucid again. I know I’mdreaming because there’s no way this could ever happen, especially not with methis close to him dressed so casually. What especially catches my eye is howhandsome he is, and I know he doesn’t look this good in real life. The man nextto me is tall, has good hair, is smiling charismatically, and looks great in hisblue jeans and white button-down shirt.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I hug him with strength and passion, smelling him as I feelhis body heat transfer to me through our clothes. He feels good, real good, andI sink down to his knees, still hugging his leg. I look up at him as I turnaround, my left hand coming up and stroking him right beneath the crotch withthe gentlest touch against the bulge in his pants. At this moment I so wantsomething to happen between us. He doesn’t flinch, and I take this as a sign ofhis acceptance towards future actions.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Remembering my role as a host I make the connection that Ineed to please my audience, and this makes me think of my friend Chris. I knowhe would want to see Bruce Willis in person, though I suspect I could never getthe two to meet directly even after my crotch-stroking experience. I decide Ican do the next best thing and I conjure two audience passes out of thin air. Imake sure they both have the correct wording on them and then I send them offinto the ether. Glancing into the audience I see he has arrived and is sittinga few rows behind the platform where I am still clinging to Bruce’s leg. Ismile and wave at him.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

This dream had many of my common dream signs in it, and I finally used my lucidity for a really good cause.


[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m in my house, but it’s not the usual location or layout.I am in a house on a nearby street that leads up the hill to the top of theridge. The house is white, small, and has a wide front porch that is surroundedby an old metal railing.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In the middle of the front porch is a toilet, the onlyfacility in the house. I walk up and use it just like I was sitting in myprivate bathroom, though I can see the street and people on it as they walk by.I even wave to one of my neighbors as she passes walking her dog. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]After using the toilet I walk out front of the house. Jen isgoing to use the toilet and she is upset that people can see her. I’m lookingat the house from the front and I actually can’t see her as the bamboo screenthat shields the house from the sun is rolled down, blocking my view. However,as I walk to the east side of the porch I finally see the trouble; the screendoesn’t cover the side of the porch, and anyone walking by could easily see thetoilet and anyone using it as they approach from that side of the house.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]Waving my hands at Jen and telling her not to use the toiletuntil I find something to block the view, I run back up onto the porch. The first thing I find is a 6-foot long pieceof plywood. It’s wide enough that I can place it over the gap on the side ofthe porch and block the view. I even place my hands on my hips in asatisfactory manner, feeling like I solved the problem. Even then I knew itcould only be a temporary solution.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Shortly following my success I notice the air outside hasbecome chilly, and something in me tells me that it is winter. Jen wants me tohang some wreathes for the season, and I grab the biggest one to take outside.It is solidly made, probably a good four feet across, and considerably heavy.It hangs from some kind of hook though I can’t see it. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]Jen wants me to hang it on the metal railing of the porch,just above the boxwoods, and I lean in to mount it. I notice that all thesurfaces are covered by ice, as though a recent ice storm coated everything ina layer of frozen precipitation. I reachup to brush off the ice with my glove and have to stop abruptly when I realizeI have knocked a Monarch butterfly out of the ice. It’s slightly frozen, butstill alive, and has landed on top of the bushes.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I reach to pick it up and as I hold it in my hand I becomelucid. The butterfly becomes even more intricate with detail and color thanbefore, and I stare dumbfounded at the super life-like visual. The poor creatureis struggling to get onto its legs and out of the frost, occasionally moving awing as it tries to recover.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I feel so sympathetic to this poor creature that I nearlykilled, and my first instinct is to hold it close to my body and breathe warmair over it. I know the heat of my breath can keep it from dying, and as I holdit close I start pouring my heart into it. I can feel waves of emotion leapingout of my chest, like a physical pressure, and as it fills the butterfly it beginsto flutter and shake with energy as though electrified.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I open my hands but it does not fly away. Instead it justsits there and gently flaps its wings every few seconds, as though trying outits body to make sure everything works. Some thought inside my mind fills mewith an overwhelming urge to take the butterfly swimming, despite the coldweather outside, and I walk with it in hand to the back yard. I walk right upto the edge of the in-ground pool and step in, water pouring over me and thebutterfly.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The splash is quite a shock, and as I surface I find thecreature is still in my hand. It seems just as fine as me, and I realize I wastesting our ability to breathe in the water. Like me, the butterfly is notaffected by water and can breathe just fine above or below the surface. This isthe first time I’ve ever encountered another dream entity that could share myabilities. I want to talk to it but I merely give it a smile and watch it flyoff.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I make myself dry and walk back into the house by way of arear bedroom with a sliding glass door. I know it belongs to my son, and forsome reason his floor is covered with dead and dry leaves. I’m a little upsetby this, how he always has a messy room, and my best guess is that he left theoutside door open for several days. I head to the front of the house, shufflingthrough leaves as I go, and I’m amazed that anyone in the house would choose tolive like this.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Out through the living room and past the porch potty I makemy way to the front steps. I encounter an annoying neighbor, or friend of a neighbor,and he seems to want to taunt me. He is a thin man with curly red hair perchedon top of his head. His chin is pointy and he wears a thick grey turtlenecksweater that doesn’t disguise his overly thin neck. I hate him immediately.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]He begins telling me about a party going on down the streetthat I haven’t been invited to, and something about him being better because heknows the people. I reply that I do indeed know those people, they are myneighbor, and their daughter, Ctharlina (yes, I spelled that right, as it was in the dream), is in my daughter’s class at school. Hesays there’s no way my daughter can know theirs, she isn’t nearly old enough,and I have to point out to him that they’ve been going to school together nowfor three years. He scoffs and turns away as if scolded in public. I assume he’sjust some snooty guy from somewhere east, and I don’t give a shit about hisopinion.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Dream 1 - (fragment)[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m at the Zilker Hillside Theater, in Zilker Park. I’mhappy that my mom has brought me to dance at the hillside, even though she hastaken some risk in bringing me. A friend of mine is with me and we are runningaround, playing and being excited.[/FONT][/SIZE][FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3] [/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Dream 2 - Lucid Eating[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m at a 7-11, and I’m escaping the storm outside. The rainis heavy, and as I think about it a TV appears and shows the weather radar witha perfect image of the central Texas counties affected. The image is in motionjust like it would appear if I was watching TV in real life.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’ve mad my way into the aisle with the chips, and somethingby the newspaper stands has distracted me, possibly the newspapers themselves.I find myself staring at them, transfixed by something that hasn’t appeared. Ibecome lucid and realize I’m trying to make something appear.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A nearby customer, someone young, spots me and asks me, “Whyare you staring at those newspapers?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Inside my head I have a debate with myself about what Ishould say.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]-Why am I staring at them? I know nothing is going tohappen.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]-Should I tell him? He’ll just think I’m crazy.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]-If I don’t tell him he’ll think I’m crazy anyway.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]-Maybe he’ll think I’m hiding something. I don’t want him toknow I’m dreaming.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]-He’s still waiting for an answer.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I finally look up at him and just shrug my shoulders,letting him figure it out on his own. He scowls at me, waves his hand at me indismissal and walks out of my sight.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m already letting it go, no longer worrying about hisopinion. I turn back around and realize I’m in the chips aisle so I might aswell be eating chips. A bag of Funyuns appears in my hand, and I reach in andgrab a few. I’m eating them and I like them but they aren’t as oniony as Iwould like them to be, and now I’m thirsty. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I think, “Well, I am in a 7-11.” and I suddenly have aSlurpee in my hand; It’s cherry flavored, and tastes so very good. (ApparentlyI can conjure drinks better than snacks) I suck on the straw and the drinkfills my mouth, though time seems to fly by and my drink is gone before I getto savor it. It was a fairly small cup.[/FONT][/SIZE][FONT=Times New Roman]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I looked back out of the store towards the street, noticingthe store is located at a corner a few blocks from my house instead of where itis normally located further down the main road. In the street outside I seeseveral feet of water flowing along the gutter. It’s abnormal for that quantityof water to flow along the street, and as I watch the flood moving down theroad I start worrying about my son who is camping in Bastrop. I reason that ifAustin is getting this much rain, he likely is also, especially since I saw theradar image showing the rain moving that direction.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I woke up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

This dream was powerful enough to affect me even after I woke. I still have the visions from this dream in my head. The moments of lucidity were both realistic and surreal. I feel lonely after dreaming this.

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A friend and I are walking around downtown at night.Something serious has happened and we need to get off the street, get tosomeplace safe. I know I’m not in danger but my friend is. I knew she was indanger and needed to get as far from the situation as possible, so I decide weshould head to my mom’s house.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We go to the house I shared with my mom back in the 90’s yetthe house still appears as it did then, with a few additional rooms that neverexisted in real life. I send my friend into a downstairs bedroom to clean upand change and my mom goes to get a few things to help her out. I head upstairsto get cleaned up myself. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I begin to undress, knowing that my door isn’t fully closedand quietly hoping that my friend will come into the room. I glance over myshoulder several times to peer at the door but it never opens. I am a littledisappointed but it doesn’t make me sad.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]No longer dwelling on the door I head into my walk-incloset. The light inside works and the closet seems quite spacious. Along theback wall I have several pairs of underwear hanging from small lingerie hangers,and it is these that attract my attention. Nearly all of them are lacy and colorfulwith blue trim, and I know a couple of them didn’t belong to me. I recognized acouple pairs as belonging to a friend from several years back, though I neverfigure out how I got the underwear.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3] I hold up several,trying to decide which one I want to wear. I like the stretchy lace and how itcurves around my butt, and I wonder if my friend will like it also. I am stillhoping she will come upstairs and into my room.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]After what feels like several hours I head downstairs and I findmy mom leading my friend to the front door. Her belongings are packed up in abrown suitcase and she is wearing different clothes than before. A brightyellow top sits rests on her shoulders, allowing a decent view of the top ofher chest. Below she is wearing a blue denim shirt, short and above the knees,which complements the yellow of her top.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]What is really striking about her is her hair. She hadpreviously been a brunette but in the time we spent in separate rooms she diedher hair blonde and put blue streaks in it. This has the effect of transformingher into a new person, someone I can only recognize in the cheeks and eyes. Ifind I really like this hair color on her.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“You’re…leaving?” I ask with undisguised sadness.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I think I have to.” She tells me this at the same time shelooks up to meet my eyes, and it is clear she has been crying. Her eyes are notred and puffy but tears are gently rolling down her cheeks, and I admire herflawless skin. As we look into each other’s eyes I can see the pain in them,and I realize she loves me as strongly as I love her.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My mom continues to lead her outside and around the side ofthe house. I tag along close behind, wanting to hold my friend’s hand butafraid it might make things too hard on her if I do. The sidewalk we are onleads us to the back of the house, through a hallway and on into a garage witha sleek black car in it. Again my friend and I share a look and she says shedoesn’t want to leave but it would be better if she did because not only wouldshe be safe but so would I. At this moment I don’t care for my safety, I just don’twant her to leave.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As I walk around the car I suddenly find myself in thestreet, staring at the vehicle parked along the curb. I recognize the car as aRussian Zil, though it is considerably shorter than the typical Russianlimousine. As I stare at it the car moves out into the street as if it canglide sideways. This is confusing but I realize it must be my mom’s fault andnot me changing perspective.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Why did you park the car out in the middle of the street?”I look at her with wonder and ponder how she thought any other car would beable to get around her vehicle. I know old people have a harder time parkingclose to the curb but this is ridiculous.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]She is about to get into the car to move it and drive myfriend away when the car begins to fade, as though it was a phantom. Theghostly image of the car becomes lighter and lighter and in less than tenseconds has disappeared completely. I am upset and freaking out, but it’s notthe disappearance of the car which bothers me. My friend has gone with the carand I am mad and hurt that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I feel wronged that shehad to leave at all, and I want her back.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I wake up still feeling this way, and the image of her sadface remains ingrained in my mind.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

I have been trying to find Link at a lake recently, and I did not find him at the lake or the bistro table; but I did find Saddam!

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I’m on a drive in the hills in what appears to be acombination of California hills and the Alps. I’m on a high road in a vehicle,and off to my right and slightly below my elevation is a small lake, a body ofwater I can occasionally glimpse through the trees and in gaps between houses.I really want to get a better view of the lake, but every time I think I’mgoing to see it the view is obscured.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The vehicle I’m in is headed uphill to some unknowndestination. As we climb, different lakes are visible off to my right. Ipresume that I’m seeing different lakes as I climb up the hill; each oneappears to have a different shape and different volume. Sometimes they seemquite close to my level, as though a short walk would get me to the edge of thewater. Others seem far below me, hundreds of feet below and perhaps as much asa mile distant.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]The scenery is beautiful. While I am driving up narrowstreets occupied on both sides by houses and small businesses, the view to myright is the occasional shot of tree-covered mountains, deep blue waters, andlake-side hotels of luxury. I really want to get out of the vehicle.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Ahead of me the road splits, and my dad, who seems to be driving,takes the road on the left. We don’t go more than 50 feet before we are stoppedby a table and chairs blocking the narrow road. A bistro with a storefront onthe road has set up a large table right in the middle of the street. The road, onlywide-enough to allow passage for one vehicle, is now impassable. I can’timagine why they would set up this table in the street, though I suspect it isfor me and my guest. Some thought crosses my mind that the restaurant waswaiting for me and some other person who has failed to show up. My concernsturn immediately back to the problem at hand.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]To our right side and slightly below us is the other fork ofthe road. My suggestion for getting past the obstacle is to back up and takethe other road, and hope it leads to the same place. Moving forward isn’tworking at all as the bistro-owner won’t move the table and the water is nowrising around the van we are in. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Someone tells me the situation is okay because the van cantake a bit of water, though I doubt their information. The water has risen upover the hood of the van and is lapping gently at the bottom of the windshield.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My initial reaction is slight worry about the van and thepossibility of water coming into the passenger cabin. I look over at mydaughter and find her sleeping, her head resting upon her arm. She is aspeaceful as any child ever was while asleep, and this reassures me enough tostop worrying about the water.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]More comfortable with my surroundings I exit the van.Someone has to scout out the way ahead and figure out how to get the group pastthe table and other obstacles that might lay ahead. A little ways in front ofme the road makes a sharp turn around the corner of a building, and from thatcorner someone is shooting at me.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I pull out my weapon and shoot back, ducking behind the nowupturned table as projectiles fly past me. I have the impression that theprojectiles are made of Play-Doh or some other colorful substance, and I’mcertain they are non-lethal. None of the impacts around me seem to cause anydamage, confirming my suspicions.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I move swiftly around the table to chase the shooter who hasdisappeared around the corner. What had been a road is now a brick-pavedsidewalk, and below me is a 50-foot drop to the water below. I’m not far behindwhoever I’m chasing and the sidewalk dead-ends at a brick wall, the only placeto hide being a few stacks of supplies and some crates.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I run to the end and what I took to be refuse and emptycrates was actually bags of flour and various food supplies. Finally getting agood look at my attacker’s face I realize I’m chasing Saddam Hussein, and I’ve accidentallystumbled upon his hiding place. All the people searching for him throughout theworld and I find him in this little alley with his bags of flour and stockpileof supplies.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I only have a moment to realize I’m mad at him before we arefacing off, his back to a wall overhanging the water. I seize the moment andrear up with my foot, shoving him against the wall with a thump that knocks hisbreath out. Without a pause I kick at the crumbly wall next to him, sendingseveral ucubic feet of material plunging into the water below. Saddam, stillwithout breath and now nothing to hold onto, lands in the water on his face andslowly sinks into the depths, and it is clear I am seeing the last moments ofhis life. I feel little in the way of regrets.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I head back along the tiny sidewalk, around the corner, anddown the path towards the van to tell everyone of my triumph. The table hasbeen cleared and the way is no longer blocked, but something feels out ofplace. I start to look around for whatever is picking at my mind when Isuddenly wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

I can't say my dream was fully lucid, as I was not able to control anything, but I did tell myself that I was dreaming in the dream, so I was at least aware of the situation.

I'm driving in my SUV, and for once it isn't pedal powered. I think I left that behind with my old vehicle, which was such a pain. I'm in familiar surroundings a few miles from home, driving down one of the main roads which I have driven hundereds of times in the past. As I pass through a major interchange I find I'm paying a lot of attention to the radio where a CBS anchor is describing a storm situation ahead of me. As I listen to this suddenly available XM station I see the storm ahead of me, and something I have never seen before, a tornado touching down about a half mile ahead of me. It may have been closer(or further) for a tornado but the scale was off in my dream, one of the most annoying qualities of the dream world. I thought to myself, "Cool! I've never had a tornado in my dreams, before, I'll have to tell Jen about this." My thoughts being that Jen used to tell me about how she always used to dream of tornadoes that frightened her and I have never had one in my dream. I'm still driving closer to the phenomenon (unusual because this area is not frequented by tornadoes) when I realize I had better slow down or I'll drive right into its path. I slow and watch as the tornado crosses the road ahead of me, then procede ahead. The announcer on the radio is describing people getting hurt and tossed around and as he says this I see him with a victim of the tornado along the side of the road. He is an older man dressed in a suit, holding a Bob Barker-style microphone and kneeling down next to a man who is broken and hurt, still talking to his unseen radio audience. I drive on by, not worrying about the situation because it's not my problem (I guess) and continue another perhaps mile down the road. I find I have now gone around a curve which is not normally part of the road and I find I am also in another state, perhaps Washington, and I don't know where I am. I wonder how I got there but it doesn't seem to matter much. I'm too busy hiding from my son's friend on the side of my house. I crouch down behind the yard waste bags my neighbor has placed on the edge of my property instead of his and my son's friend, Seamus, is walking up my sidewalk. I know my son thinks he is smelly so I hide, and peek around the bag at him. I think he may see me and feel stupid so I stand up, only to discover it is not Seamus but Samuel, and I can now see my son coming up behind him. They want to play games on the PS3 and I am resistant, and this is where I lost my focus and can't remember how I got from there to the classroom I find myself in, taking a test that somehow relates to driving but doesn't. I am in a classroom with a lot of strangers, mostly Hispanic, and I feel like I don't need to be there because the test isn't required and besides, I don't really belong in this class because I didn't do anything wrong. I don't want to be there but I know that somehow I have to be there because I am required to. Fine. I'm hungry, so I venture into the adjacent room where my stuff is (backpack?) and I pull out a snack. Upon returning, I find a woman has taken my seat. I know her, somehow, but I don't know her at the same time. She is polite, and asks me something about who I am, but the answer is now lost.

I know I had more dreams but I can't recall them. I do note that my standard themes continue: Storms, driving, being in school (with clothes, thankfully). I have noticed that I become edgy when it hasn't rained for a long time in the real world, and that's when the storms in my dreams become most severe. Today it IS raining and I seem fairly calm.