second

got lucid last night. DILD, tho a failed WILD attempt contributed by running consciousness close enough to the dream's inception that it was easily retrieved. i probably lapsed in awareness for less than a minute. until i fell asleep for this dream, i had remembered the previous one perfectly. it was much longer; i felt it was probably the preferred REM cycle. i might or might not make an entry for that one.

...i entered a tunnel to escape from a frenzy. a bear? indoors, public, carpet, cheap decor. like an office whose decor hadn't changed in 40 years. the opening to the tunnel existed in the wall, probably more toward the floor. the inside was like what at the time i compared to the ear canal, but now am thinking glacial cave is more like it: undulating, "ribbed", organic walls, taller than it was wide. cramped. i was horizontal and had to crawl or drag my body through with my arms. it wasn't difficult. (likely inspired by a "snow fort" my friend's brother made in their backyard years ago, a narrow tunnel laboriously carved out of a mound of compacted snow). it was a short tunnel. it curved. the walls were off white beige smooth plaster, which contributes to the ear comparison, like it was an anatomical play structure at a children's museum. as i rounded the bend i spontaneously became lucid, or more aptly, remembered that lucidity was my goal, to which i reacted w/ an "oh right, yeah. let's do this."

-pause-
for the past ~6 years, every time i became lucid, my enjoyment of the dream was impeded by an "imperative" attitude: as soon as i became lucid, i would impulsively try to recall some "thing i wanted/have to do" and attempt to accomplish it "before it was too late". these would be things like frantically attempting to stabilize an already-stable dream, impulsively dream spinning for no reason, labored flying because "it's supposed to be fun goddamnit". either that, or just experiencing the dream influenced by a general notion that there is a "right way" to be going about that i'm neglecting. these intrusive notions occurred around the same time i was trying too hard to attain lucidity, and both factors ironically contributed to fewer and shorter LDs. i eventually gave up, although the imperative attitude still managed to bleed into accidental LDs that occurred every now and then.

fast forward to this "3rd wave" of active LD interest. one of the first things i did when re-acquainting myself with the principles of lucid dreaming was realize that i had been trying too much too soon. instead, in order to acclimatize myself to the lucid dreamworld, i've been planning, the first (half?) dozen or so LDs, to just. chill. sit down, feel the grass, look around. maybe meditate, as enso from IRC suggested, saying that it helps stabilize and improve the quality of the dream. as last night's LD reminded me, however, focusing on even the simplest agenda is easier said than done.
-resume-

i knew there was another office at the end of the tunnel. before lucidity it was likely to be just as perilous as the previous, but it was practically empty of characters once i reached it, as i knew it would be. i looked around. to my left, there was a "fireplace", unlit, possibly fake, by which stood a "bear", stuffed or real i didn't really care since it wasn't about to do anything. might've totally been a hat tree. to my left, a large desk and a row of green windows, some partly open, fluttering the long lightweight curtains. it was overcast outside, which i could tell not from looking outside, but from the light. up ahead, who knows? a wall, a hall off to the side, and a sofa, i imagine. the carpet was short, old, a dusty faded red. i felt it. it felt like a carpet that looked like that should feel, rough, though my focus was more intensely on the sensation than it would be in real life. brushing the carpet released a smell. it rose in wafts, i saw them. they were powder blue, with dust. there might've been some big cartoon stars. it smelled dry and musty.

by the time i was done i had already decided i'd have to find a place where soft chillin' would be less boring, probably outside. i looked up and i was already by a window. i opened it and looked down. green and yellow grass, not too far, but far enough that i wouldn't be able to get back into the window if i failed to take flight-- i was hoping the height would give me a head start. i've experienced enough failure trying to launch off ground zero. in any case i knew it wouldn't hurt if i fell. it all came true, of course. i jumped, i fell, didn't hurt.
the building was behind me. ahead, maybe 20 feet, was a small wood. to the right of that, a field of white clouds, gray above, pink below, fluffy. i got up and tried again to fly, upright, and succeeded. it was a slow rise. i watched the clouds change with my perspective: they began 10 feet off the ground as a plane of hovering watermelon sized puff balls. they multiplied as the altitude grew, to thicken. i watched as each new plane of texture approached, became level with me, then passed below. in the back of my mind i dreaded my inevitable deceleration. (note that by this point, i had obviously lost sight of keeping it simple.)

it wasn't long before the expectation of running out of flight juice overrode my enjoyment of the clouds. i felt i had been flying in one direction (upward) too long. gravity would take over any moment. so i leaned, left. i watched the building's grounds pass below me. i went the distance of a football field. i slowed down while nearing a lot of high school students standing in small groups, socializing; perhaps school had just ended. (who knows what that building was for? it was a school AND an office, alright?) i landed by one of them. i knew these people. nerdy friends of friends. i don't remember saying anything, though i would have remembered several hours ago. i woke up seconds after.

what did i take from this experience?
-i'll have to make a better point of keeping it simple, since my dream self has a natural bias against it, even when lucid.
-i'd like to try to take deliberate note of the details and makeup of my surroundings. for one thing, it'd make recall easier. i'm tired of knowing exactly what happened but being uncertain of the details that would allow me to put it into words.
-even when you're lucid and you think you'll remember everything, you won't. i already knew this, but now i have recent experience to substantiate it.

it was a very short dream, which was disappointing, but otherwise not a bad thing. keeps post-analysis manageable. however, i can't imagine keeping a dream journal every night; writing this took forever, and nothing even happened.