00:00 Tues 2013-10-22 ~ 01:30 (?) bedtime 03:19 1) Getting out of bed turning on the air conditioning. The A/C is a big grand piano with multiple covers not a single cover. I have to open one of the multiple flaps to get the A/C working. Wife can’t get cool she’s not comfortable. I feel the coolness of the A/C air and say “see, it’s cold, the A/C is working.” I or she says “it must be a cultural thing.” F1) Standing outside in a large area, a truck is approaching along a long road. Truck arrives and zips around in a wide open area, I try to catch it. F2) Receiving a medal. 06:13 2) Staying in a cheap motel. Motel is typical rectangular upside-down-U-shaped structure built around a central parking lot on some street in some city, along a busy street full of strip-malls. I’m staying on the first floor in a room at the upper right “corner” of the upside-down U, right next to the manager’s office. There is a gate between the area outside my door and the parking lot. My room is shallow but extremely wide, easily 3-4 typical motel rooms wide. The room is full of my things, stacked all over the place, it’s like I’ve moved my entire home into this room. There’s a big bed. I’m running the A/C really high. The room is cold in the morning. I have a Playboy magazine on the table, I turn it facedown. I come outside and two guys come out of the manager’s office and approach me. Sort of Hispanic looking. We go into my room. They say “your A/C is on high it’s unbalancing the whole system, you can’t do that.” The owner of the motel is there, too. I’m shocked/outraged. I say “I’ve never in my entire life had anyone in a hotel tell me that I’m using too much A/C!” I then ask, “OK, then just what is the maximum allowed setting I’m allowed to use?” They don’t answer. We leave the room, go outside. I and one of the guys, a technician, head back into the room. He’s walking in front of me. We start jumping along the tops of progressively higher series of cement domes (mushroom shaped). We’re jumping on them like a side-scrolling video game. I’m making a sound effect of “hwip Hwip HWIP!” and “blblblblblbl-BEEP-BOOP!”, “huah Huah HUAH!” the guy copies me making these sounds, too. We reenter my room. The guy start digging through my magazines, turning them over face up and looking at the covers. I say “If you keep doing that you’re going to find an ‘interesting modern magazine.’” F3) with high school friends. 06:19 17C in room, feels pretty cold. WILD attempt, alarm goes off in 1.5 hours from now. 07:28 took a long time to relax my mind for sleep while anticipating the WILD. Eventually did and started seeing dreamlets. Wife was snoring. Time to get up now, make breakfast for family, WBTB. ~ 09:00 BTB. On the couch. Another WILD attempt. Dreamlets: people walking down a hill, a woman’s face, cars on a road. Felt close to making it in but didn’t. WILD attempt on back, ND came on left side. Eventually feel asleep into ND: 10:19 3) Lying on some grass (parents’ house backyard? DS) with older son (as a 9-year-old boy) next to a big air mattress with a towel on top of it. Someone has stuck a twig through the towel into the air mattress (to keep the towel in place?). As soon as I approach I see the twig. I knew what the result would be. I pulled out the twig and all the air came out of the mattress. (WL, last night, the plug popped out of my air mattress while I was lying on it positioning for BTB). Next to son are two little girls on my right. On my left are an unknown older woman and man (couple). I ask son, “did you do it?” He said “no.” I turned to girls, asked “did you do it?” They didn’t answer they just looked at me with big eyes. The woman on my left commented how I was improperly interrogating the kids, called me something like “nazi.” I turn to talk to the woman, I say “I have every right to learn who ruined this very expensive air mattress!”. Her husband next to her stands up in a confrontational manner. I also stand up and step up to him, I’m not going to let him intimidate me. I step back a bit deciding a fight is not worth it, and I repeat, “I have every right to know, it is very reasonable.” The man and woman walk away. . 4) How the story was written. A famous author is sitting triumphantly in a rocking chair on the top of a hill shouting out to the people below , “For the very first time in literature, the villain has made his appearance!” He is throwing rocks down the hill. I’m DO standing down the hill a little looking up at him. There is an emotional and triumphant finale presentation where the original actresses who acted a long time ago in the story appeared and was introduced. Each one had a special name. The first one was “Kea 2 Sea” and was wearing like a lunchbox-sized-and-shaped medallion on a chain around her neck, her name was inscribed on the front of the lunchbox inside a big heart. They all approached me to be recognized, I held up my foot straight out and they touched their lunchbox amulets to the bottom of my foot, and then they bowed to me. I was incredibly touched by this special moment. There were 4 or 5 of the actresses. There was an extra actor who was also there didn’t have a special name. He was there in case they needed another actor. F4) passing something through a small window to people in a room.
I was hanging out at a grad party. I was kind of sad because, in the dream, my boyfriend died. And the one before him died as well. So I really wasn't in the mood for a party. One of my coworkers noticed this, and came over to talk about it. We had a lengthy discussion, and decided to meet up the next day as well. This went on for awhile until we became relationship status. At that time, I started hearing a woman's voice in my head. She was narrating my actions. This creeped me out. The entire dream would have reminded me of Stranger Than Fiction if it were not for the fact that I realized that this woman was also following me. "Why are you following me?!" I asked her. "I would like to see how my story is going to pan out," she responded, cooly. "Excuse me, your story?" "I'm writing a new tragedy novel. And you are the main character," she explained. Fuck. Tragedy may be my favorite genre, but I never wanted to be the main character in one. "If I'm the main character, can I at least know the plot?" I asked. "Wouldn't that ruin things?" "I think I deserve to know," I whispered angrily. She hesitated and then replied, "You are the main character of my new tragedy novel. In which you will have 5 lovers, and slowly each one of them will die. I see that you have made it to lover number three." "And you are going to sit here and watch me suffer?" "Yes, to capture the emotion, of course," she responded as if this was a casual, everyday occurrence. I stared at her short, brown hair that was done into a pixie hair cut. She was only an inch or two taller than me. If it weren't for the two men following her, I would have socked her in the face. What an insensitive bitch. I thought about ways that I could derail her plan. My current boyfriend, who was now lover number three, was probably already destined to die. But, perhaps if we could run from her then she wouldn't be able to witness the plot. Which would mean no story for her to capture. And maybe then she would give up. I ran with this idea. Literally. I took my boyfriend by the arm and ran. I was trying to explain things to him along the way. Trying to piece together the puzzle and trying to escape her view. I decided that our best bet for now would be to hide in the back of a shop in town while we were out of her view. I predicted that if she couldn't find us then she might look elsewhere, and then we could make a cleaner escape. My boyfriend and I ran through an alleyway and I opened the door to the back of a shop and...What the serious fuck? It looked as if we had just opened a door straight into the world of Das singende, klingende Bäumchen. At first, I was stunned. And then I was still stunned. But we had to keep running. And then a rhino came out behind the bush and killed him. Just like that and it was over. I wondered if I had played right into her hands. I wondered if, perhaps, it was actually essential to the plot that I knew the storyline so that I could attempt to avoid it and therefore cause the deaths anyways, spinning it full force into a tragedy. That insensitive bitch. I walked out of the strange room and back into town. I thought to myself, you just watch. I'll ruin your story. I won't fall in love with anyone. I'll keep to myself and your story will be toast. So I did just that. I shut out anyone who tried to talk to me. I hurt their feelings. It was hard, but I had to. I had no other choice. The hardest person to shut out was an old friend of mine. I could tell he was deeply concerned. This wasn't like me at all. He pleaded to me to tell him what was wrong. It was so difficult to hold back. My voice yelled hurtful things towards him, but my eyes pleaded for forgiveness. "Zukin, I don't care what it's about. You know you can tell me anything." I had to say something that would make him leave immediately, because I didn't know how much longer I could hold back these tears. "You don't listen or care, you're insensitive just like everyone else and I wish you would leave so that I never would ever have to see your face again!" I thought that would do it. He hesitated for a moment before responding, "that's okay. I will leave once you tell me what is bothering you. And then, if you still want me to leave, I will." Fuck. This man was determined to know the truth. He was playing right into the author's hands. I couldn't hold back the pain any longer so I rationalized it with: it will all be okay as long as we don't fall in love. So I told him everything. He was shocked and then reached over to give me a hug. I felt shivers run down my spine. I already knew this was the beginning of the end for him. I immediately wanted to take back all the words I said. I wished I hadn't given into the pain. I wish we had never even met so he wouldn't have to experience this fate. I knew somewhere, the author of my story was watching from a distance and smirking. I had played right into her hands again. I immediately knew that we had to get out of her sight. I feared that we would have that same fate as the last lover. I felt as if she was following right behind me, smirking. I knew that she was getting steadily closer, ready to watch closely as the fourth lover died. She was ready to leech off of the pain and suffering. Before making any impulsive decisions, I tried to plan our route of escape carefully. This time there wouldn't be any errors. We would be in control of OUR story. We escaped to my house. I was planning on us hiding in the basement until she had left. I knew the basement well of any dangers. I knew exactly what to avoid there, and exactly how to escape if needed. We opened the door to the cellar and...What the serious fuck? Again? Both of us were instantly trapped in the same world as my last lover and I had been trapped in. This was creepy as shit. "Be careful, there will be something in the bushes over there waiting to attack you," I whispered to him. We slowly passed the bushes before an alligator emerged. It snapped its jaws at us threateningly. "RUN!!!" He yelled, trying to prevent the alligator from attacking me. "It's after you, not me!" "JUST RUN!!!" He demanded. I followed his demands and ran through the pathway, worrying about him all along. The pathway slowly transformed into the hallway of a house. I wondered where on Earth I was. There was a door at the end of the hallway. I opened it and hid inside. After a couple minutes, I heard the door squeak open. It was him! He had made it out alive! I nearly screamed in joy. Her plan had failed! We were escaping and we were going to make it out alive. "Where are we?" He whispered. The room was dark, with only a little light beginning to come in from dawn. I flipped the light switch on. We were standing in a little girl's room. And the little girl was laying on her bed, looking over at us - horrified. I quickly put my hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming and whispered, " you have to promise us that you will be quiet." She nodded her blonde head in obedience. I had a weird feeling that this little girl was the author's daughter. We stood there for a few minutes, debating on what to do next. And then the door slowly creaked open. My heart pounded before I realized that it was one of my coworkers. "...Why are you guys in here?" She questioned, completely puzzled. "We're just hiding, we'll be gone soon," I whispered. "From who?" "It doesn't matter. Just promise us you won't let anyone know that we're here," I urged. She looked at us with a blank stare for a moment and then murmured a hesitant agreement. She closed the door and left. We thought we were safe until the door creaked open again. It was the author. My coworker was standing behind her. "I see you've stumbled into my daughters' room," she smirked, "thought you could run, aye?" We didn't answer her. I exchanged glances with my partner. He looked horrified. "Well. It looks like your actions, Zukin, have lead your partner to his untimely demise. You were going so strong, too. How unfortunate," she sneered. Her daughter then took out a pocket knife. I lurched in front of him, shielding him from the knife. He pushed me back, trying to protect me. "Dammit, you don't understand! She's trying to kill YOU not me!" I screamed, still trying to protect him from the knife. I knew she wouldn't kill off her main character just yet. He pushed me back just as her daughter stabbed him in the neck with the knife. I let out a defeated scream, devastated. In tears, I looked up at the author and cried out, "are you happy now?" "Quite. But our story isn't finished yet," she exclaimed, "Get up." I refused. "We have yet to reach the climax," she smirked. I prayed for the energy to leap out and punch her in the face, but I was hovered over my dead lover. Mourning. Her assistant grabbed me by the hand and dragged me out of the room. He threw me into a car where the four of us drove off. I wondered what the climax of the story was. She said I was going to have five lovers. I had exhausted four already. If we were about to reach the climax, then the climax would be with my fifth lover. Our love would undoubtedly be stronger than all four lovers put together, thus the fall would be much worse. Even though I didn't even know this person yet, I knew that if our love was going to be that deep, then I would give anything for him. Including my life. I thought about ending it. If I committed suicide, then I would save his life. But, could suicide actually be the climax of the story? I knew I had two choices. I could either 1. Wait it out, fall in love with the fifth lover and then watch him die or, 2. Commit suicide and save his life. I wasn't sure which storyline the author had in mind, but I decided to be safe and go for the second choice - suicide. We pulled over at a gas station to stop for gas. "Do you want anything to eat?" She asked me. "Sure." "What will it be?" She asked. "Let me come in to the gas station and take a look at what they have," I plotted. While the author her two assistants payed for gas at the register, I took a look around. I pretended to be looking for something to eat, but in reality, I was looking for anything that I could overdose on. I hid behind the isle and opened up a large packet of pills and shoved all of them into my mouth as fast as I could. The more - the better. I didn't know how much time I had left before they would come around the isle and see. "What the fuck are you doing?!" The author screamed and threw the bottle of pills from my hand. It's too late for you now, I thought. And smirked back at her. "You fucking prick!" She shrieked. I had swallowed more than enough needed for death, I knew that for sure because I had already gotten half way through the second bottle. "You've ruined my novel! Fucking asshole!" She stomped around before grabbing me by the hair and throwing me onto the ground outside. Sleepiness was beginning to overcome me, I felt a sense of dread as death approached, but I knew that in the process my reasoning had been correct, and by killing myself I was saving the life of a person I would have loved immensely and otherwise given up my life for. I felt everything slowing down and getting black as death approached - and I knew that I had won.
There was a previous dream before 8 am that I couldn't remember. Anyway, this one occurred between 9 and 11 am this morning. I was sitting there, reading a book. Yet the history of this very book is something unusual, for someone I had met on Facebook had written its contents. I knew that for a fact, yet when I picked up this book, the hardcover with a beige background, large-letter font and a plastic jacket, nothing else about it seemed unusual. Still can't remember whether I was just reading the book, or whether the events inside were actually happening to me, or whether in fact I was experiencing the book's contents while reading it. The only chapter title I remember is 13. Darriel. Why that name, I will never know. Yet in it, a mother had scribed in pen, telling her son, who was likely failing subjects in school, to "read this chapter". The chapter went on to discuss what written submissions had earned a failing mark, and whatnot. I, too, had written on the book's pages in pen, even though others would soon be reading the same book. On chapter 19, there was a bit about camping, and sure enough, I was sitting under the stars, with the author of the book, at a campfire in the woodlands. Somehow, the author "knew" that because there were thunderstorms in the east, those would drift off and there would be no rain for 24 hours. Not sure if any of that were true. Just as I prepared to comment, I was whisked to a road in a nearby town...or maybe I just woke up, and was wondering about emailing a different author I knew. A flashback to a different forest, east of town, that I had visited before. Later, my father quipped that the author would have to be even stronger than him to accomplish some of the book's tasks, which was impossible. From there, I was running south on a main street, very wide, and the sun was out, but no idea what season it was. I ran across intersections, bus stops and trees, seemingly never getting tired after about 10 kilometres. Running up to another bus stop advertisement, there was writing in a non-English language of a person who had an unusual expression on his face, reminding me of yet another person I'd met on Facebook. It roughly said, "every person, we serve equally, everyday". Maybe this was a utopian world that catered to disabilities. Just maybe. I kept running. Waking up, the clouds were very bright, just after 11 am, and the Sun was about to shine through the blinds, signalling that I was to wake up, to do what I needed to do. In case you're wondering why none of my dreams are lucid, well, I hadn't had such a dream for years, except for that one in November. The lucid part of that dream lasted maybe three minutes, yet I had no control over any part of it, in stark contrast to the dreams I'd experienced before.
Good morning, everybody. Dream #1 I was out walking on a sidewalk in a residential area. The road I was on went down a steep slope and up another steep slope, making a kind of U- or V-shape. I was near the bottom, heading up the "left" side of the U. The houses on the street were all nice, and the curbs seemed to be pretty well lined with tall, leafy trees. There were a lot of cars parked out along the curbs. There also seemed to be a decent amount of car traffic. I may have stopped as I was going up the slope. I may have turned around. I may have felt some kind of despair, as if I didn't know where to go. Suddenly a greyish Mercedes-like car passed me going down the slope. I suddenly had a note on a piece of paper in my hand. It said something like, "MY and LJ are coming for you. You are going to live with us now." (MY and LJ are two people I talk with on another website.) I knew that the Mercedes had come from MY and LJ. I continued walking down the slope, hoping to get a glimpse of the car again. I heard a voice call my name from across the street. I looked over to see the grey Mercedes now parked. A few people were standing outside the car. The person who had called my name waved at me. I recognized her as L, MY's mom. She was kind of tall, a tiny bit overweight, and had kind of pale skin and long, black hair. She wore a kind of loose-fitting tank top of a crepe-like material, colored with vivid blue, green, red, and possibly purple and white blotches against a black background. She also may have worn white pants. I crossed the street to L. I knew that if I was going to live with MY, that L would be my mom, too. There was probably another woman, who I probably thought of as LJ's mom. LJ might have been there, too, possibly as an adult man or woman. There was also a tall, thin man with tough, tan skin, a big, grey beard, and kind of balding head of long, grey, wiry hair. The man wore a dirty, grey tank top and light grey slacks. I was wondering when I would finally get to meet MY. L lifted up a car seat, which was just sitting by the car on the road. In the seat was an infant girl, dressed in a white onesie with pink trim and a pink bib. I held the car seat, with the baby inside it. I didn't know who this baby was. I knew there was another baby nearby, wearing the same outfit, except blue. The car seat seemed to be sinking down in my arms, toward the ground, as if I were losing my ability to hold it. L may have also said she thought it was time for me to put down the baby, or I may have thought it would be a good time for me to put down the baby. But just as I was sitting the baby down, she began sucking at one of my nipples, through my shirt. She wasn't trying to nurse from me (I don't know what she would have gotten out of a guy's nipple). She was doing something more like telling me she wanted me to keep holding her. Dream #2 I was in "my apartment." I walked out of the apartment, into the hallway. There was a tall, young, white man in the hallway. He may have walked into my apartment. I don't know if he walked back out. I went back into my apartment, into the kitchen, which was just off from the front door. Dream #3 I was in a cafe that kind of looked like a bar. It was big, as big as a restaurant, and it was made with lots of dark wood. I sat in a small, two-person booth at the front of the restaurant, right across an aisle from the front end of the service counter. In front of me, beyond my booth, was a big set of shelves stacked with free newspapers. Just beyond that was a huge front window-wall, as big as one that might be seen at the front of a grocery store. The place may have felt and sounded busy. At one point, a customer seemed to be arguing with or yelling at the guy behind the service counter. An Asian woman, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s sat down across from me at my booth, without asking, and even kind of forcibly and abruptly. I was a little offended, but I just decided to act like she hadn't done anything unusual. I looked at her face and realized she was a famous author. (I may have thought of her as the famous -- male -- physicist Michio Kaku.) I was kind of surprised that someone so famous would want to sit with anybody. I figured she'd be so hounded by fans that she'd treasure any moment she could get alone. The woman had slammed her coffee down at sat down. But now she jostled up, kind of impatiently, out of her seat. She grabbed some sugar from a stand near the newspaper shelves and came back. She irritably stirred her sugar, slopping her coffee out of the cup. It suddenly seemed like there was a mess of coffee stirrers, sugar wrappers, napkins, sugar, and coffee everywhere. For a moment, things seemed to be silent. I thought perhaps I should talk to the author. Maybe she'd sat with me because she'd wanted to talk with me. And I apparently was a fan of her work. So I thought I'd have something to ask her. But I was afraid to talk to her, thinking she would just think of me as another big fan. Now another customer was yelling at a guy, probably a different guy, behind the service counter. This time it definitely sounded like the customer was upset because the food he had ordered was in such bad condition that the man couldn't have it. All of this kind of food had been wrecked for the day. The customer was really upset. He left. For some reason this all sounded really interesting to me. I stood up to ask the worker what was going on. The author, thinking she should follow my "good actions," as if I had been acting out of concern, quickly stood up and came with me to the counter. I asked the worker what had happened. The worker was tall, white, kind of skinny, with shaggy, brown hair and pale eyes. He wore a dark baseball cap and probably a dark polo shirt with thin, green stripes. The worker just responded, "Well, he just got annoyed. You know how ----- (another worker) always has that saying of his? 'If you gotcha, then mmm... gotcha!'" I now saw a torn piece of notebook paper with this saying written sloppily on it in black ink. The quote was upside down to my view. I understood that the worker had repeated this quote often enough that he was really starting to tick all the customers off. I now went up into some upstairs area in the cafe. I opened a door and found myself at the back of a performance space. It was just a kind of long, narrow featureless room. It was all dark, except at the front area, which served as a stage, and was lit with normal, incandescent stage lights. The audience didnt't seem to have any chairs. There were a lot of people, but they all seemed to be sitting on things like big cushions or wooden cubes. The performers were a small rock band, led by a female singer. The song began. It was very distinctive. It had a really nice, sad sound and some interesting harmonies. The song made me look closer at the woman. She was kind of short and thin. She wore a bright turquoise sundress. She had lightly copper-tan skin and blonde-brown hair in a semi-beehive. She wore big, wide, wrap-around sunglasses. I thought I'd recognized this singer. So I walked up toward the front of the audience, to a group of my friends. They were all young, Indian or southeast Asian guys and girls, with darkish skin. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I asked them, "Isn't that Atilia?" (Atilia Haron, a Malaysian pop singer I like.) One guy said, "No. This girl sings this song. It's called Pelita. It's for this movie. There's a flyer up front." (Pelita is a song by another Malaysian group called A.P.I.) The concert seemed to be over. My friends and other people in the audience were leaving. I walked up to the front, kind of in a hurried, crouching fashion, as if the concert were still going on and I didn't want to get in people's view, as well as wanting to get back to my friends quickly. There was a painted bench up front. There were two stacks of flyers on it. Both flyers were the size of regular pieces of paper. One flyer had a background like a deep blue, starry sky. The flyer was advertising something about the cosmos. The word "Cosmos" may have been in the title. The event was either a lecture or a film. The second flyer advertised the band. It was white, with some kind of yellow framing fading in and out of the background. There was a kind of art-nouveau design of a bird like a phoenix, done in heavy, black lines, with bright colors in the spaces between the black lines. The woman's name was at the top of the page. The first name was something like Nfemini or Nefmini. The second name was something like Salmani or Salyami. I got the impression that the woman was either Egyptian or Israeli. Dream #4 I was in a cafe. I was sitting in a front area. But then I got a phone call. So I decided to walk to a back area to talk. The back area seemed to be behind a partition like a backless bookshelf full of books. The back area was dark, lit as if from a single incandescent bulb on the floor somewhere. There were some tables in the room and a leather bench with tables along the right wall. There were a lot of people around. I sat in the bench. I sat right next to some bookbag or backpack without thinking of it. I started talking with the person who'd called me. But just as I was starting to talk, a young man walked toward me. I realized that the backpack was the man's. I had inadvertently sat in his seat. So I got up and sat at one of the tables in the room, continuing to talk with the person on my phone. I had the thought that it had been good, after all, that I'd moved to one of the tables. A phone conversation at the bench would distract too many people, including the young man. Dream #5 I woke up in "my bedroom." I was on a tall bed, under a whole bunch of blankets. The room seemed to be nice but small and really cluttered. A lamp was on on a small dresser near the head of my bed. It made a bright, kind of yellowy light. I rolled out of bed and walked through the cluttered room. To the left of the door was a random box, on top of which was a huge, plastic package of diapers. Diapers may have been spilling out of the container. There may actually have been diapers scattered all over the room. I don't think I was "myself." I seemed to be a tall, kind of thin, but muscular, white man, kind of easygoing, walking and thinking with a bit of a swagger that I definitely don't have in waking life. I went into the bathroom. I got out of the shower (apparently I had taken a shower). I was drying off. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I thought, for some reason, that maybe I should just put on a diaper and pee in that, instead. That thought really turned me on, for some reason. But I didn't really think it was a good idea to just go walking around in a diaper. Suddenly I was either putting a diaper on or taking it off. It seemed completely shredded, for some reason, and there seemed to be all kind of layers to the diaper. One layer seemed like thin, clear plastic-wrap. Another layer was a kind of porous material, like the tops of tennis shoes.
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