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    Lucid Dreams

    1. Where's the Exit?

      by , 03-21-2011 at 01:15 AM (Into the Whirlpool)
      (Old LD - from August 2010. Posting it here as a reminder that I have succeeded at LDing before, and I will succeed again!)

      I'm frantically running around in a very large building that looks like it's used for some sort of maintenance. Maybe it's the back entrance to a sports arena or a warehouse, although the layout is much too large and maze-like for that to make sense. The walls are off-white with an occasional surface painted an orange evocative of a high school gym. I'm running because I can occasionally hear a drunken male voice screech, "He's a pillow! A g-dd--n poofter!" and various other offensive terms. They're not directed at me - I get the sense that the man, wherever he is, is ranting good-naturedly to some friends - but certainly the screeching indicates poor impulse control and I know that, were he to somehow see me, I'd certainly be killed. So I'm running... sprinting, actually... trying to find the way out of the place. Of course, I can't find it. I'll dart down corridors only to realize I'm back where I started. There seem to be endless twists and turns. Some hallways have little alcoves or abruptly truncated crawlspaces in the ceiling that make no architectural sense. I don't think I'm panicking, but I realize my situation is getting more and more dire.

      Finally my search pays off. I skid to a stop in the middle of a hallway that lacks the high school atmosphere of the place I was just in. The wall to my left is clear glass, overlooking a nicely manicured indoor scene - like the lobby of a huge hotel. I can see expansive skylights above me. I must be a few floors up, wherever I am. The hallway makes a 90-degree turn to the right, but I'm more interested in the two sets of stairs that are now before me. One set is behind an incongruous door in the left wall that looks like it will easily push open. The other set is directly in front of me and leads upward into a darker area. One of these will probably be a good bet for getting out of here... but which one? I deliberate for a second and choose the first set.

      I push open the odd-looking door and find myself on a fairly fancy staircase, the kind where you wind around a central railing as you make your way up or down. The walls are all clear glass, fitting with the hotel atmosphere I seem to now be in. I am much more at ease here; I'm not sure there's any more danger. Yet I still want out. I start down the staircase but then realize there's a woman standing a few steps up, looking at me questioningly. She has bobbed brown hair and looks to be late 30s, early 40s. She's using both hands to hold a brown packing box that I know is from Dell and contains a computer. "Oh, you're from before," I say. I know her from an earlier dream (must be FM, I don't remember having other dreams involving her). The woman doesn't react to this, and I realize I can't pinpoint where I know her from. "C'mon," I continue, "we've gotta get out of here!"

      I set off down the staircase, not at a dead sprint like I was doing before, but at a quick pace. The woman follows close behind me. "Come on, come on," she urges me in a musical British accent. "Yeah, I know, I'm working on it," I reply. We make our way down a few floors. Abruptly the staircase ends and we're on the ground floor. I feel a moment of triumph before realizing I still need to find the exit.

      "Hmm. Where's the exit?" I ask aloud. I turn to the right and begin following the glass wall, figuring there must be a door somewhere. I've only taken a few steps when something compels me to turn around--oh. There's the exit, right there. It's a set of automatic doors designed to blend in seamlessly with the surrounding wall. It also happens to be exactly where the staircase used to be, which might explain why I couldn't find it at first.

      The woman and I stand in front of the doors and they slide open. This doesn't make sense, I think to myself. I take a step through the doors and it suddenly hits me. This doesn't make sense. This is a dream! I feel a soft rush of warm air hit me as I emerge, dazed, into the hotel lobby. I briefly think about RCing, but decide not to: I know I'm right. "This is a dream!" I say to the woman excitedly. She gives me a funny look--I realize she's still holding the computer box from earlier--and walks away without me.

      I'm still so taken aback that I don't know what to do. I stagger to the right a few steps; there is a bench here and a pillar with some sort of writing on it. I almost feel like I'm drunk. "This is a dream," I repeat slowly. There's a pause. "I'm a coyote and this... is a dream." (Eloquent, aren't I?) As I say this a huge bubble of excitement starts to well up. I force myself to stay calm, knowing that I'll kill the dream if I get too excited. Even so, I can tell my hold on reality is tenuous at best. I start to tip over; I can briefly sense my sleeping body. "No, no, no!" I say hastily, and rub my hands together as fast as I can. The sensation disappears.

      I take a couple more staggering, walking-through-jelly steps to the pillar, which I lean against for support as I look up and around at my environment. This really is a gigantic hotel lobby. The skylights above pour down white light. I can see large green trees filling the ample vertical space. To my left, since all the walls are glass, I can see several hallways in floors higher up... maybe there are balconies up there too, not sure. To my right there is a massive concierge desk that stretches for longer than seems practical. Everything is very attractive and clean.

      I'm suddenly struck with an urge to sing. Still leaning against the pillar, I lazily imagine my voice echoing like a clarion call throughout the building. I open my mouth and a sound comes out that is definitely my voice, but it's more croak than choral. It sounds like I've just woken up and badly need a drink of water (fitting, I guess). Still, there is a pleasing echo to my voice that I understand is not from my surroundings, but something inherent to my voice itself. I try again. "I'm dreeeaammiiingg... about the end of the world," I sing at random to a melody I don't recognize. Eh, it's no good, I still sound like a frog. I feel myself tip backward again into my sleeping form; I feel satisfied and don't fight it. I wake up.

      Updated 03-21-2011 at 11:33 PM by 35578