One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy

American Psycho Playground
0524: I am in what seems to be a school playground in the middle of nowhere. Sandboxes, grassy areas, pull-up bars, chain-link fences, and so on. Christian Bale from American Psycho is here, chasing me and other people. Somehow he gets stabbed and falls to the ground. He calls an ambulance. The rest of us run and hide behind cover. He can't move but he's still throwing sharp things like knives and and pencils. One almost hits me. He is covered in blood. I'm not very afraid though. Just cautious to dodge the projectiles.

short WBTB, just long enough to drink a glass of water with a B-complex supplement

fragment
In bed, notice the nearby electrical outlet. It's making a noise like running water. I remove the plug from the top outlet and move it to the bottom, thinking that will somehow help.

fragment
My mother is in the next room. I overhear her talking to herself. She says that I was talking in my sleep.

Vivid Lucid With Some Tasks
Method DILD (prospective memory), DEILD
Lucidity B
Vividness A
Control B
1134: Begin recall in my bathroom. The light is off and the door is open. Dim morning light coming through my bedroom window. I remember my own advice to look at my hands and count my fingers. At first they appear normal but I stare at them for a moment. A finger on my left hand starts to look distorted and wavy. Bingo, I must be dreaming. I also notice the orientation of the bathroom is backwards compared to the real one.

I walk out the bathroom, through my bedroom, and on into the living room. There I see my father laying on the ground between the couch and coffee table. He's wrapped in a robe, like he's sick. I ask him a question, but move on. I peek in my roommate's room, but he's not there. I haven't stopped to think of a plan, so I'm just wandering aimlessly.

I exit the front door and find myself in an unfamiliar stairway. I go down one flight and pass by two young women. I think I said to them: "Oh, you're pretty, and so are you." They are carrying piles of clothes. I reason that they are moving in to the building. I stop on the landing of the floor below. It's covered with boxes and more clothes everywhere. I say aloud: "Wow, this place is really messy." Then I think: Wait, this is my place. It is my own dream in my own mind. Maybe the mess is symbolic. I pick up some of the clothes to get a closer look. They are actually neatly folded. I say aloud: "I guess I like my place like this." I'm not sure what I meant by that.

Now I exit the building and find myself in yet another unfamiliar setting. The building I was in is at the top of a rather steep hill. I am looking down a narrow street that goes down the hill with buildings, trees, and alleys on either side. It's only wide enough for foot traffic, no cars. I'd guess it looks a bit like San Francisco more than Los Angeles. Anyway, it's bright day and many people are on the street, going in and out of shops and sitting at cafe patio tables.

About half way down the hill, there is an awning that catches my attention. I think to fly and land on it. I start to fly but sputter and lose height. I land under the awning. I sit down at a cafe patio table. Also at the table is a young man with dark brown "bedhead" hair and a scraggly beard. In a hip way, not an ugly way. He's holding an Amazon Kindle. He's talking to a nearby waitress. Neither of them see to notice my presence.

Dream fades. I DEILD back.

I'm back at the same cafe patio. The man with the Kindle stands up and walks away, never having noticed me. I stand up and now have more lucidity and control. I walk to the middle of the street and look around, thinking of what to do. I'm a bit distracted as I notice a older woman standing at a podium nearby. Maybe the hostess of a restaurant. Or maybe she's selling something. I snap back into focus and remember a few tasks. Meditate. Hmm. Risky. I decide I'm not ready for that. Laugh. I can do that. I enjoy a big loud "HA HA HA!" in the middle of this busy street. Everyone stops and turns to look at me. The noisy chatter turns dead quiet. Am I embarrassed? No, surprisingly.

Now I have everyone's attention. What next? Cry and pick a fight. Not sure why I thought of these two things together. I look around the crowd and pick out the biggest, meanest guy. He's a tall, wide, Samoan-looking guy. I look up at him and taunt him with a childish "Boo hoo!" crying gesture. Then I punch him in the face with a right hook. He punches back but I block with my left arm and counter with another right. He tries a few more times but I block and counter-punch again and again. He swings once more, loses his balance and falls. I place one leg on him, like I'm posing on top of a mountain.

I start to think what to do next, but the dream fades.