Sweven

20th - Barely slept. No recall.

21st

Snow Rolling
Night is deep, endlessly dark. He steps slow, footprints smothering my own in the snow. Every so often a war cry howls... then the hiss of an arrow far too close to an ear. I can run but but never outrun him. Fall backward into the drifts and roll under depths of the snow. Roll softly. Roll sightless. Enjoy the false security of faux escape.

Trainings
She is Dachshund. Short legs. Short leash. We say her name as a sneeze. She is mine to train. Here and there she whips wild, rolling and whimpering. Simply wait until she simmers down. Return to training. Somehow she is now a kitten. She is still Dachshund. She is leash-less and allowed to play through the house.

Two other dreams I can't record because I can't read the scribbly handwriting.

Frag: Something about Jason Brant on youtube




Team Robot - Spring Competition

Well Gardens
They grow gardens in egress window wells, peas, daisies, sunflowers. Snap the occasional sunflower stem to free up room for the others. "We need vegetables," I tell the residents of this flowery place. They make more windows, wells, little garden plots in which to grow some food.

Concerning Cryptids
He runs a podcast, Concerning Cryptids, live from his garage. A child, deputy and I are invited to tell of the time a dragon soared the sky. Our host is nowhere to be seen. Bored, we snoop and find an alter, piles of batteries, dismantled machines. Battery acid spills across my hand. Rinse in a bowl of water on the alter. Impatiently we wait hosts arrival.

Burrs & Thorns
A sister and I hike through a forest then through a field. Climb down a hill bristling with burrs. Invasive seed pods now adorn our clothes like shining patterns of beadwork. Too much time is spent ripping out burrs. Notice then that my feet are barren. Pull out the sticks and the deeply hooked thorns. Continue on. Our grandmother's lies tucked in the trees another half a day ahead.

Fragment: On a too full train I continuously switch cars, looking for one not as stuffy

HGI (WBTB) Two triangles merge together to form a circle with a sphere inside

Finally!!! Didn't accomplish much task-wise but am grateful for the lucidity.

A tiny restaurant looks larger by way of mirrored walls. Waiting for some friend, check my reflection. I am not myself. 'Maybe dreaming?'. Press fingers through mirror. "Dreaming!"

Stand. Leap through the looking glass into a monstrous, dark cavern. A beast that may be the bastard child of Godzilla and a Balrog, glares, growls, attacks. Retreat backward through the mirror.

Trembling fingers reality check. Dreaming. Clasp hands. Calm. Collect wits and lucidity. Dreaming. Must face the beast. Leap through the mirror, come what may. But there is no cavern, only a courtroom. Victims crowd the jury box. Smug grin greets from the witness stand.

"Oh for fucksake. Did I molest you too?" the witness asks, mildly irritated.

"I don't even know you," I confess... then add, "You will always tell the truth." Inquire about his crimes. He admits guilt, to his own astonishment. I leap, a foolish and over dramatic fling. He and I are face to face. Twist and tear his head from body. It is like tearing cardboard.

"You killed me! You killed me!" echoes his wet, gurgling scream.

Standing ovation from the jury.

Stare the head straight in the eyes. "Stay alive," I command. Toss the trash to the floor.

Now rises panic. Need to escape. No mirrors seen. Calm. Be calm. Think. See my hands stained with sketchy tattoos. Strange. Interesting. Yes. Still dreaming. Find a way out. A door! Rip it open expecting the bastard beast. Instead, a Star Wars like city glitters far below. Exhilaration surges. Leap. Ferocious freefall. Land on a daylit outdoor stage.

"You're going to sing for us!" squeals a someone from behind.

Turn. Two of the jurors are there. They followed? Shake off surprise. "I don't sing anymore." Pace and struggle to remember dream goals. Dream goals. Dream goals. Feel morning creeping nearer.

"This is someone else's dream," Lady stalker states.

"How do you know?" I ask, startled from the silent struggle.

"The smell," Male stalker says, as if its common knowledge.

"Don't you ever smell where you are?" Lady asks.

"No." I feel weird about this conversation.

"Smell now," Lady commands.

Inhale deeply. Smell nothing. Wonder about sensations. Search for a swallow of this dream. Stalkers follow chattering about the importance of smell. Lose lucidity while wading through the concert swell.


Team Robot - Spring Competition 2025

Nicks
Through crush of booze riddled bodies make our way to the Motley Crew. Front row for the show is suddenly Stevie Nicks. Concert cancelled. Stevie reappears and roams the crowd for causal conversations. Though not a big fan it is still a thrill to speak with some famous singer.

Science Center
Sometimes student. Sometimes chaperone. Through a science center we stream. Linger in robotics with a feeling of unfinished business but pressed, we move on. In the weightlessness room we leap, soar, softly sink to the floor over and over again.

Fragment: A wolf circles a cluster of people attempting to fend it off. Sometimes I am the cluster. Sometimes I am above.

CnR
Can not get to Gil and Cris waiting for their ride. My car is unfindable in an endless field of others. Only after they scatter do I see my car. Finally get to Chris and Gil, who are watching a man argue with his shadow. Intrigued, I watch along.


HI (post WBTB)
A toddler sister runs into view and soundlessly laughs

Hair Doings
With gentle affection Deb tends each daughter's hair. When brushed they rush to sit aside me as I spill stories spit between fairytales and dreams. She combs pink dye through one child's hair. It is streaky and sloppy. Check my hair in a mirror to see I'm waring Bilbo's hair from the other night dream. A half assed inclination to reality check passes, overshadowed by the urge to fix the monstrosity living atop my head.

Fragments:
-Tin and Kayji sell food at some dusty, roadside market. Kayji is angry that the dollar store treats outsell her from scratch baked good.
-A very large dog strolls past and when I wonder if it is a wolf, wake.


Team Robot - Spring Competition

Fragment
Near a raging, muddy waterfall trying to take photos. Careful while stepping on the mossy shores of the frothing river.

Hangry
We stop for our supper. Kayji sees her friends. She sits with them instead. I choose a salad. A man stands near. Suddenly my food is his? Complaints fall on deaf ears. Facts only find blind eyes. The van which is escape shifts shape into a bike. Ride darkening roads. Hippy man brushes me with a flowered branch when I coast pass. Enraged, I swing around and let loose surge of rage. And then, there comes the sun. It shines the way to the near forgotten roads to home.

Whisper & Warrior
Solitude found in a flimsy shed. Ignore raps and requests for entry. Shed shifts into a treehouse crammed with computers. Shift again into THE bat cave. Heroes gather. A grainy ghost of woman appears shining like shadow Galadriel. She is sublime and exists, aware, across dimensions and time. She knows she haunts the hovel of my all my hearts. I know that across all of her spectral lives she may love only The Warrior.

Chasing
In a pow wows pulsing heart Jae and Shae prance and sway to ancient songs of grace. Fumble my way forward. They are always out of reach. Find them safe in a hotel, which becomes a trailer, which becomes a single shack of hoarders' mess and just as jumbled lightlessness. Want only to rescue them but they seem happy where they are.

Mysteries
With straight cut bangs he looks more oompa-oompa than hobbit. Bilbo says its to do with his evolution from clean cut to wild haired, hobbit of mystery. I laugh. "What do you REALLY know of me?" he asks, then asks things I can not answer. "What do you REALLY know of yourself?" he asks, then asks things I can not answer. We both are a mystery to me, it seems. Despite it all we still keep good company.

Note: Someone who I'd been talking about the game to, became lucid last night and completed one of my new personal goals. She 'fourth walled herself'. It was only her second lucid dream ever.



Team Robot - Spring Competition Day 3

HG Images
An airplane dashboard full of blinking lights and switches
Scanning a row of different shapes and sizes of cereal boxes

HG Sound (thought the radio was playing too loud but realized I hadn't turned it on)
Waiting for a soul traaaiiin.
Waiting for a (shovel or shove of?) the moon.
Everything's gonna be heeeere.
Everything's gonna be here soon.

Fragment
In a waiting room with a mother and many children. She opens her monstrously large mouth and some children merrily walk in. What are they walking into?

Burned
Before the shell of what once was home, killdeers scream through the wilding green. We can not find their nests therefore we can not mow the mess. Aside the shell stands a concrete tube. Someone bumps it. Black liquid sloshes, slicks the siding. Someone else flicks a cigarette too near.
Ignite.
Rush into the shell of what once was home to rescue dust caked keepsakes, a family bible, a photo album, a strange spiral sculpture. "The keys are inside!" screams someone frantic. A pair of us charge the hungering flames. Gather all keys to be seen.
Escape.
And now the shell that once was home is the severest of nothing, not a scrap of foundation or flat, naked patch of earth to show where once it stood. They all spin and sing. They are stupid and free. I envy their absence of memories.

Team Robot - Spring Competition Day 2

HI Someone stands on a cube peak

Honest Love
Invited inside from the howling cold and knee high snow. Old school mate yearns for honest love. Set out through storms to seek out a love deeper than fancies, flings, or psychotic soul mate things masquerading as 'meant to be'.

La Raylee
Impossible hills and steep tilted tracks are no match for Sisters crowded car. Rollercoaster home. I wander streets, find a white sand path laid straight through skinny trees. City blacks out. Back to the house. Cram into the car. Escape. In a toss of snow dusted trash, a baby lifts her head, squeaks. Under her a raggedy man stirs. He is Barry or Jerry of sector 74. "Take her to warmth. Her name is La Raylee. It's also Ophelia." We take her though our car is crowded and our hearts are uncertain. Try to outrun the end that will soon come.

Stairwell Secret
A slave to the hospital again. Below the lowest floor in the stairwell lies a secret room. It is littered with cobwebbed mechanical parts, disassembled. We break often to sift through the secrets stored there, believing some treasure awaits.

Wall Crawlers
Highschool hallway. Aerobics broadcast from wall mounted televisions. Most ignore it. Some of us get sucked in. Instructor climbs a wall like spiderman. As a joke, press back against the wall. Surprise, we can crabwalk backward up to the ceiling. Others join. We wall crawlers storm through institutional halls.


Team Robot - Competition Day 1
{will figure out competition points later}

HI
Old handsaw standing on end, wobbling
Lines of light pour upward into a narrow stream

Soup Spiral
'Free food. At park.' bings the cell before shifting into a crumpled page. Find the place. Spiral stand of starving souls await their share of turkey and dumpling soup. Finally I am there. The remains are perogy dumplings spattered with turkey strands. Take my share. Stroll away.

Project
Dread the test ticking nearer. Accidentally project my music and slideshow onto the wall. It can't be closed. Shame prickles at sight of severely pixilated images. A cousin asks to study with me. She is a merciful distraction from the projected mess on the wall.

Unclean
Some doors are half there, some not there at all. Still they crowd in and make use of the stalls. Mine is a mess of crumples, pools, graffiti choked walls. Mop. Wash. Turn for sanitizer. Turn back and behold a small boy slapping about in the filth of the bowl. Clean him as well while holding back swells of vomit attempting to spew. The father flings clots of Christmas carols and toilet paper ribbons our way. Snap. 'Not my toilet... not my toddler.' Abandon the unclean.


Team Robot - Spring Competition 2025

LUCID: Secret Street

See the secret street. It steals one away from tourist traps and lofty lodgings a-glimmer. They prey on starving wallets and sweet sheeple minds. Stride the secret street up into the lull of a desolate shire. Cross into the curl of a sun bleached grin lined with faded lights screaming Come On In!

Just beyond the yaw lies an ancient way of steely playgrounds, glimmering arcades, and music yanked from distant yesterdays. An elegant swirl of gold frosted stairs leads ever upward and then we are there. Rivendellian hall of golden fires, unceasing spirits, unfaltering food.

See them now, they three. Especially he, who left this life behind. Their chatter and laughter rekindle a spark, relighting my heart where once only yawned an imploding dark and festering shriek. Try steal the scene with canon fire. A barrel too narrow can't capture all. Refocus. They have lingered on.

Upon fur topped bunks he sits and grins. Finally capture reflections of him. Now it's they three and me. Reluctantly leave the swell of the secret street. There tilts a sign that rustily screams intersection of Tragedy and Queen. Now back into the bite of the beast that chews away all worth.

Moon has fallen. Great statues shake. They groan and quake. A gargoyle sheds graven skin, growls, grows, spreads its wings. Glare into each others emptiness.

Reassure my trio, my reformed katet, "It's okay. I know how to stop it. I've dreamed this before..."

Lucidity storms.

"I'm dreaming now..."

Wake.

Happy Lucid Dreaming Day. Adding the couple of lucid encounters I had this month so far.

10th

A shifty sound. Wake! Behold gentle night and a strange shadow that shivers midst shadow. Rectangular head upon skeletal frame. Stare into the glare of too tiny eyes. Grimace at the sight of dagger lined lips. "It's a dream. Are you trying to scare me?"

Wake

Sit up. "Still dreaming." Look for the thing. It is gone. "You can't scare me," I sing to whatever will hear. "I am invincible as long as I have this..." Put out my palm. Nothing. Try three more times and finally flourishes my totem. A crystal ball enwrapped in waves of flames floats above my flattened palm.

Wake

Sit up. "I was lucid. Must write this down." Reach for my journal. "Is this still a dream..."

Wake

Sit up. "I was lucid." Reach for my journal. Scribble the shapes of my dreams.

30th

Bridge Glitch
Keep crossing the same bridge no matter which ways are taken. "Time to make our own roads," I say while scanning ditches for escape.

Orality
They greet by giving oral sex as if merely shaking hands. Not that desperate to converse, I sit. I think. I write.

Intercedings
Bewitched by northlight ribbons, brave the snow and starlit unknown. Camera will not see. Phone will not wake. Seasons shift from drifts to mud to drifts again. People need, need, need. Can not even love the lights. Always interceding.

HI
Phantom serpents of light spill and twist together into a slow spinning galactic dance.

29th

Hurdling
We train. We would race forever with fluid ease if not for the angst and angles they keep throwing at our feet.

Riddled
A sea of solemn hearts and shining eyes. Squeeze into the stadium. Stand. Salute. Give goodly tribute to they who paved our way. Champions stand, weapons raised to pierce the sun. Instead, they riddle the gathered mourners. Metal streams. Families scream. We scatter into a mansion to somewhat safety.

Rigid Waterpark
Cruise through a sun-swept stretch of day. We are carefree with glints of caution. Wait to enter the water world. Our driver offers a false mouth to wear while we are scanned. It fools facial recognition. But inside are flesh rivers of straight lines and rigid rules.

27th

What woke me? Ears strain. Heart shudders. Cast off ancient sheets. Rise. This is a long lost home. Stained by shivering shades of black and blue, it presses. Silence is pristine. The space is so soft, ominous, like a dream. But it is not. I am home. I am alone. Where are they? From bedroom to kitchen to livingroom roam on feet that wish to falter.

A scream. A blur. I'm flung to the floor. Fists slam straight into my face, "You left me! It's your fault! You left me! It's your fault!" chants a shadow puppet brother. But his words are weightless. His fists are phantoms. I laugh around his fury..."Dreaming!"

Lucid will forces the rage swept shadow to rise. Hold it high. It floats, shadow amid shadow, twisting, glitching, flailing. Brother shakes the world with a scream.

I stand. "No fighting. There are other things to do in dreams. And besides, you left us..."

He shrieks, "Your fault. Family left me. Left me. Your fault!"

"I wasn't the one abusing his wife and ki..."

"Your fault!" he screams with demon rage. A flurry of fists rips my way.

I remain untouched on several levels. Walk away? Will him away? Warp to another dream? No. He will see any retreat as weakness, an invitation to stay an haunt. I tire of being haunted. With frightening calm, reach into my brother's shadow and grip his living spine. Rip it out. Crush it to the floor. The rest of his shadow follows, drifting strings of twitching tendons. They fade into nevermore.

Still haunting the halls of my own youth, search shadows for a sign. Nothing. Now what? A reality check strengthens my light. I should exorcise this place. The final ghost to be banished will be mine. But first, the final room. Mind is shining. Heart is stone. Spirit is steel. All demons will be undone... but in this room there stand none.

Instead, upon my mother's bed, sits a mountain of of man, his flesh a gallery of bright, tribal tattoos. He speaks softly, swiftly, in tongues my mind can not unwind. Sit and listen. Ever so slowly I think I can nearly hear his truth...

26th - Lost Dreams

27th

Lot Locked
Crowded parking lot will neither allow me to move forward or back. There is no escape. In frustration I realize that there is escape, Slip out the driver window and walk away. Deal with the abandonment when the time comes


28th

Soldier Boy
He comes for us relentlessly and colored in cultures of red. Our end will come at the hands of a soul-less patriot. We flee and attempt to love the lingering moments of life we have left.

Angels or Demons?
Only grass, sky, house, apple tree, and solitary me. Sweet solitude and silence. Then a Predator sound. Rush outside. A monocle will reveal the invader. But before it is seen, a man floats down from the sagging roof. Now stand between them, an angel of the lord and a predator turned Mandalorian. We scheme to crush a dream.

Tangled Lives
Rolling knots of unkempt hair refuse to be tamed. Within the hills and valleys of tangles thrives a world of insects and snakes. Comb carefully around them to ease the uncoiling of their cosmos.

Also a set of dreams I didn't write down. Hope to be adding the a little later when they return to me.