non-lucid

Cipher
Shadow mothers make shallow embrace. Filthy hands make feeble homes. My own hands can not come clean. Ring of black clogged pores clots my palm. Mother shrugs. I push out the dirt, rinse the filth away. But look now. Life lines have deformed into triangle with one hat, one tie, one blazing eye. Mother shrugs. I try scratch the cipher away. Out, damned shape. The deformation will not be undone.

September 2nd

Race and Relative
Why are we even here? The dull of the drag, the roar of the pace, the stench of the race has never been our place. From relatives, retreat. Sighted by stumpy aunt. Can't escape smug salutations she spits our way. Depart. Neath narrow rounds of steps is relatively relativeless sanctuary.

Sky Eyed
I am sharp arc of heaven. She, a splay of sheerest soul through which all is unhidden. Shapes shift and spirits drift. All dance to find the fire. Insubstantial eyes behold the bottled beast. Descend. Take up the threat again. Quench its warful thirst before it bursts. Flee back to eternity.

Lippy
Success found in Auto Sales. It is not the success Ken and Jay desired. Next move? Be fired. Shifty hearts and shady lips smother merchandise with a million kiss prints. Sit back. Wait for the blaze.

Snappers
Water runs rare. Turtle dens bared. Pluck encrusted shells from dreams and dust. Locked in torpor, they are typed, tucked, filed. Time trips. Heaven cries. Waters rise. Entice the eyes of the sleeping to wake and thank their saviors. Instead they rage, revile, snap. The gored deliver the gorers back.

Respite
Sister begs for a scrap of respite. Though we see and feel her plight she is unpermitted all repose.

My dream priority for last night was to be immersed in healing spaces as I've caught the flu, I think.

Hypnagogic sound: A voice close to my ear slowly whispered 'Mom'.

Chimes
Riffle empty drawers, for what? Poke through empty cupboards, for what? Slink through little lightless rooms, for what? Outside, shy bells giggle. Smile and step out into the shade of a weeping tree. Leaves trembling, tinkling chimes. Inhale a thousand songs.

4th Dimension Stir Fry?
Blocks of green, white, orange, and purple hiss and stir. Some twist, deform, disappear. Reappear in a shimmering wink. Where do they go? There loops a soundtrack to accompany the languid sink into insanity. Cotton Eye Joe.

So, if I consider these dreams, I'm possibly being told I need sound nature, healing chimes, vegetables, and hillbilly music?

No dreams recalled August 28th.

This morning:

Carving
Capstones, last minute carved, all around. Invisible in a corner. Mind a flurry of light and languages. Hands a flurry of anxiety fed ingenuity. Completion. Success. Breathe once again.

Magicians
Trails of broken bodies. Voracious politicians and self seeking spellcasters are the guilty. To a train station they are tracked by detective magicians. Battle. Bullets and left glamour against the trio of wizards right. In the end the world knows none the better as politicians conjure concealing lies.

Unwoven
Caught in a cob web of tripwires woven. Some self spun. Most laid by illusions labeled love. With painfully soft caution, pace. Suddenly she slips through. Accusation. I am the spidery which kept us caught? I think not. We become unwoven. Life is lucidity.

Forgotten dream. Typed out two dreams at 1:45am but it seems I forgot to save them. Or perhaps I wrote them during a false awakening? Must remember to reality check when writing. As I wrote there was the strong sensation that I'd been lucid but could not recall the dream.
!Remembered when I started reading other dream journal posts!

Dream Maps
Ethereal rovers design four dimensional maps. Upon them we place stars where we are and where we have been. In secret slits of space and time lie dream views. They are the beyond. But our stars will not set or slip through. Strange discussions. A man, draped in centuries of stars, stands, "Share not the spells spoken in dreams. Share not the spells cast here." We vow silence. Set our stars.
-I believe this dream was born out of the envy I felt reading the dreams of someone who dreams of other dreamers. There were many dream viewsers in this space and it WAS beautiful.


Moved
Fledglings released. Beloved and I take flight. Touch nothing. Move nothing. Take nothing. Escape to fresh spaces and faces. Here the earth sighs eternal Indian summer. Hide in a single story house in which several stories secretly unfold. Sometimes windows are doors.

Non lucid dreams from August 24th


The Falls
Speed a desert highway. Road switches to stream. Nearly drive off a dead-end, a waterfall roaring down into a misty eternity. In the shallows laughs little cousin. Brother, despising any hints of happiness, shoves her. Both fumble to the edge. Cousin dodges. Brother slips. He slides and grips for dear life. All souls see. Not one soul shifts to save him. Mother's sings wasted threats.

Round Room
Round rooms sweeten whispers. I dare not speak. Sneak through throngs of artists, poets, and players. Spiral through a sea of bold, bright vitality. Don't want to contaminate them with the dim shallows of my soul. I am found. Cheered to sing until my song silvers with molten full moon grace. This IS my place.

19th

Mes
Amusement parked. Keep a keen eye trained upon niece, nephew, and a toddler I. Little me sees the me, now grown. The tie that binds feels thready fine at best.


20th

Abandoned
Upon a winter whipped cliff a mother leaves us three. We brave the blizzard and happen across a hovel of a store. Strangers permit us shelter and sustenance.

Shutt Bridge
A great river swollen. Our pass is bent, bowed by a slush of trash and trees ripped free. "Go ahead. Go across," badgers she. Cedar eyes shine straight into mine. They nearly convince me. Trust her and maybe die. Mistrust her and stay alive.


21st

Beyond
In a house unhomely, chaos cavorts. Recoil from touch. Sound is too much. Air is thin, stained with nonsensical twangs. Sanctuary! But no. Barricaded with a woman. She feeds her baby milk clots and crushed pink pills. They are beyond. Beyond me. Beyond my voice. Beyond they, past checkerboard glass, heaven whirls black with buzzards.


22nd - Went on a short vacation with a sister and dreams were lost.

Sunday 19th

Sunless
Sunflowers hunched, stare at earth instead of sky. Desperately seek the reason why they no longer upturn their shining faces to the sun.


Re-Departed
He, who departed too soon, returns. Deep within churns, "I thought he died." But his laughter and his smile soften such severe thoughts. We enjoy his return. We savor his hugs. We simply love and are beloved. But then he is re-departed... too soon.

Friday 16th

Vultures & Swine
Vultures circle, wheeling, whipping, and chopping away chunks of childhood sky. "Hide!" someone cries. "When pigs fly," says I. "But they are flying. Right above us. Hide!" the someone cries again. Never!" I declare. "What are you doing here? FUCK OFF!" my ragged voice serenades those unwanted. To punctuate I flip twin birds at flying swine. They circle closer. Closer. Set hoof to the north. Trot this way. They hunt a murder suspect connected to the bloodlines of my yester-home.

Some Hero
A flash dead, red, and black slashes back stampedes empire cats.

Old Trail
In a neighborhood freshly stolen and stacked and old time trail still slithers. Its tail is slender but its head is a swollen graveyard of metal beasts and burdens.


Saturday 17th

Arid
Brooks and beds are coughing dust. Wells are sad and scabbed with rust. Green grows ever dimmer. From above, they laugh at our arid mother. Below, laughter is softly smothered by serpents of twisted sand.

Ice Cave
In cherished caves of ice we shine. Swing from icicle to icicle. Slide from sheet to sheet. A lone scruff tumbles in to stake a claim. I raise false swords and whetted words. He tumbles away. We return to our play.

I can not find the little black book into which I scribble my dreams. So I'll add Thurs night and add the others when I find them.

Dog Days
She is a stray, a barrel of strained golden retriever fur. Twenty pups reside within. Her future is death. In giving birth. Or struggling to sustain. Or starvation of over half. We take up the monumental task of keeping all alive. Ensuing dog days and nights are draining.

Doctors
Whuniverse Con? Am not a fan but the con name sits sideways with me. "It should be WHOniverse, with an O," I challenge all who clap eyes on me. Eyes fall.
We Breach a wall. Friend near faints as five doctors take the stage. A sixth, unknown, takes center, star of the show. When done, sixth strides into his time worn tardis... which disappears. Crowd splits in fascination and fear. Sixth is THE one. The chaos is fun. But friend is undone that she was not chosen companion.

Litterfall
Bedroom carpet is oak leaves. Beneath slithers a world of worms. Some, various shapes of pasta. Some, elongated leeches, seeking. Others bulge blue with clitellums of slime and sundew spines. I collect. Inspect. Retrospect.

Dance On
They dance clockwise, two lines of humans hopping and whirling to haunted voices. I long to be part of the pomp. I've neither dress nor dance steps to match. I step in, none the less, stomping, shimmying, and spinning with fierce abandon. I disrupt the flow, I know, but care not. Others flutter to fringes. I dance on until the final mingled note of the last song.

Dog Day
A dog drowns, dragged under by the waves and wrath of a wild river. Aside, someone yells, "We can just refilm the dog scenes without the dog." Film crew falls back to their efforts. The rest lament the lost as the show goes on.

Re Risen
A home to the four footed, the six footed, and the feathered, has fallen. There is no sympathy for the 'soul-less' as the true soul-less step sightlessly around. Alone, I right the left, and yell, "Re-root! Re-rise!" After a tiny eternal time, roots grip ground. It stands, though at a one o'clock lean. It is re-risen!

Shifty
He took a nurse's face and fled. First a woman. Then man. Then child. He hid in a room with Fox and Scull. Salvation slides nigh but the lift lurched to a halt. He morphs into of clear blue gel blob. Slip through crack. Splat. He makes eternal escape.

Resurrection
At long last I wrench free my grandmothers home from the greedy grip of those with low respect. I'm greeted by shrapnel glass, scarred floors, walls of gaping dark sockets. It is a wooden corpse. It is my wooden corpse. Time to raise the dead.

Green Whisperer
She sings with flowers and speaks slow, soft words with trees. All with the touch of a golden glowing hand. She tries to save all that is good, growing, and green.

C-Wing
Sawbones swerve and c-wing patients test my patience. Time is a decrepit snake, slitering on and on and on... until a tender turns up. She dumps a tangle of threads onto the bed. They are the tatters of the dead. And now they all are mine.

Switched
Mirror, mirror, little mantis. Let us play a game. You swerve, I swerve. You step, I step. You pray, I pray. Let us see if friendship follows. DRIFT. Souls shift. And now I am magnificent. See through compound eyes. Behold the fleshy, foul creature across, caught without a prayer. Feel the insatiable urge to eat the twinkle from its eyes. Delicious despise.

Be a Dream
They find him, bits of battered bone and threads of scattered flesh. He is incomplete. Earth slips. Chest implodes. Words thin and wither. Within the gutted hollows of the husk I have become, are echoes. "This must be a dream. Must be a dream. Be a dream. Be a dream. Be a dream..."

Ice Palace
Her house is an iceberg in the midst of the sand. No entry. No exit. No hope. Bloodied hands punch, claw, and rip but I am unable to make a dent or get a grip on anything at all. Out of reach, through glass patches of ice, half frozen children are weeping. Sleet slips from their eyes.

Waterly
Pencils slip. Pages flip. Inspiration flows like spring swept springs. Then watercolors run wild. All artistry is defiled.

Vehicle
Tires and steering wheel disagree. Even with extra hands and webs of rope I can not claim my space, so surrender. I swerve away. Soon I bring up the rear of a family line. We plod pitted roads. Car begets quad, quad begets cardboard box cut to be a car. I carry it, this flimsy thing, that should rightly carry me. Still I carry on, and on, and on.