Recent DJ Posts

Morning of March 29, 2015. Sunday.



I am walking up a very long and steep flight of stairs (both by my choice and my seeming simultaneous creation of it by way of non-lucid dream control). Others, including a wealthy old lady, are ahead of me. This flight of steps is so steep and high, I get a strong impression that I will not be able to go down them comfortably. (This is mainly due to the fact that I am facing the solid structure of the stairs as I am ascending them but when walking down the steps, I will be facing open space, which might cause me to feel ungrounded.)

I decide that instead of using the stairs on my way out after I do whatever it is that I have to do, I will teleport from the second floor of the building down to ground level (though this never occurs by the end of my dream).

I notice that, as I am climbing the stairs, the building I am in is like a huge cathedral. Eventually, I find myself in a large L-shaped area that has numerous bookshelves along all walls. Apparently, it is a book sale, displaying both new and old and worn secondhand books. My wife Zsuzsanna eventually appears and looks over different sections.

A young Japanese male seems to be responsible for most of the book sale, regardless of how large an area it seems to be in (at least one city block). At first, I talk to him about the books in broken Japanese but eventually I decide to implement a translator where I can speak English and it will automatically be translated into Japanese. This translator even forms a holographic matrix around my head to display the correct lip positions for each word and syllable, so that it also looks correct. It is as if I am actually speaking Japanese to anyone watching me. My translator works both ways. I hear the Japanese male speaking English even though I know he is speaking Japanese. His voice is loud and clear.

I look over a set of small but thick softcover books on a low shelf that seem to be in a series and are mainly about mythical monsters, though one has a triceratops on the cover. At first, I notice only book number four, but eventually find all of them and decide to buy them. I carry them around with me to another section closer to where Zsuzsanna is.

I pick up a large hardcover book from a top shelf and notice that the writing is very small and sideways on some pages, which seems to relate to statistics, old census reports, or other government records. I see that the front covers (though not the back covers) are missing from most of the books in this particular section including the one I am holding, which is also damaged in that the spine is at a slanted angle. Even though most of these books are in English, it seems that they may have been printed in Japan. I do get a lot of various information from the young male but cannot remember all the details, as there are a lot of different books I look at and talk about.

I find a large book in the area where Zsuzsanna is looking around. It seems to be someone’s dream journal in the form of a novel. It is about a man and his wife and young daughter traveling over an isolated desert region in a station wagon. I read one entry about a drive over a particular stretch of hard, cracked ground and what was seen, the dream journal being from the perspective of the male, who is the driver. I decide to get that one as well.

Eventually, Zsuzsanna and I are ready to leave. She has a large canvas carry bag full of books. Mine is smaller than a backpack. In order for us to pay, the young Japanese male has to put on a blindfold and determine the price by weight alone as he stands near the section we stopped at. I do not question this. The total cost is fifty dollars. As I go to pay, I see that there is about two hundred dollars in fifties and a few twenties in my wallet. For the third time in this dream, I implement an idea that seems to prove that a part of me knows I am making my dream. Even though I have enough money to pay for the books, I mentally create an additional fifty dollar note on the other side of the twenties.

From here, my dream fades. However, as it does, I begin to notice additional bills of odd amounts, such as a thirty-four dollar bill, a seventy-dollar bill, and several other fictional values.

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Morning of July 12, 2014. Saturday.



At one point in this longer but fairly vague dream, I am flying over an area in an unknown region which may be some type of large zoo. There are several smaller rivers in a mostly parallel continuity, seemingly towards the south. Oddly, the whole landscape seems to be inside a very large building with a very high ceiling, and with similar features to that above a stage. I notice several lionesses and cubs near and in the shallow rivers and for a time, now and then, am concerned about flying too low but this does not happen and there does not seem to be much danger anyway.

I eventually end up at a bookstore where there is a sale outside with one small table with several wells (recesses) in which the base of the book stacks start from. There are also some underneath, I think in a cardboard box. My wife and at least our two youngest sons are there. My dream seems to “reset” to a similar scenario at least once, which involves something about buying three books really cheap, I think something like a dollar each, but that does not seem real to me for some reason and actually causes my dream to lose cohesion because of its “lack of realism” regarding the cheaper prices (regardless of the fill-a-bag sales we went to years ago).

As with most dreams, this one had a more insignificant layer that was precognitive (though doubly precognitive, based on two unrelated sections).

Good morning, everybody.

The second dream is another silly instance of dream control. I told myself to dream of myself out in a wide, open space, all by myself. I told myself that if I found myself there, I'd become lucid.

Well, I found myself in a wide, open space alright. But I was in a painting. And I was looking at the painting of myself. So... my dream subject was kind of controlled again. But not exactly in the way I'd expected. Lucid fail!

Dream #1

I was in some place like a hospital or a retirement home. But it may also have been a school. I feel like I may have been on the first floor at some point, heading in to some class I was taking. The class may have been for high schoolers, even though I was my current age. But I think I was still doing horribly in the class.

I went down into the basement. I was in a hallway area. The hallway was low, wide, and kind of featureless. There were doorways that went to rooms, each room like a whole department of this hospital. But when the doors were closed, the hallway felt empty and small.

Off to my right was a little alcove with a few doorways. One may have been open, revealing a larger room. But the alcove was filled with shelf-carts for books and stationary bookshelves. The shelves were all filled with books. I knew this was a used book sale.

There were a few people rushing around, getting the shelves all prepared for the sale. The people were mostly men and women in their fifties or sixties. But there were also some younger people, mostly women, probably in their late teens or early twenties. They were all volunteers.

I was interested in seeing what books were on sale. I was mostly interested in science fiction books. So I looked for that area. I think an older woman pushed out a cart full of sci-fi books right as I thought that.

But right as I went to look at the books, a tall, kind of fat, older, white man saw that I was heading there, and he jumped in front of me. He bent over so that he was blocking all the shelves.

Instead of getting mad, I just figured I'd go look at some other books. I walked over to a tall bookshelf, which may have been for paranormal studies.

Dream #2

I was looking at a painting. The painting wasn't realistic: it was a bit blocky and thick, with the sense of three-dimensional perspective a bit flattened, and the color scheme kind of simplified for intensity.

The painting had a red cliff, like one wall of a canyon, taking up the left side. Then there was a bit of grass, then a path. There may have been a boy, his back to the viewer, walking down the path. To the right of the boy, the landscape extended flatly, maybe with a river.

I told myself that I'd definitely become lucid if I was in a landscape like that in a dream. I probably told myself to remember this painting, and to try and make myself go there when I went to sleep tonight.

Dream #3

I was walking around outside somewhere during the day. But I was also talking on the phone with my dad. My dad was telling me about floods occurring in St. Louis, Missouri, which was apparently where my dad lived.

As my dad spoke, I had very strong visions, which were like still photographs, except that I was in them. I stood out in what I guess were aqueducts: they looked like the concrete-walled channels used to catch and drain waters from heavy rains and flash floods.

But the aqueducts I stood in were like highways. I often even stood in the shade of highway overpasses. All around the aqueducts were hills of lawns and trees, so that the aqueducts all felt so quiet and secluded. But I knew they'd be raging with waters pretty soon. It was a bright, sunny, warm day -- hard to believe that it could flood anytime soon.

I may have seen a couple copper-skinned children: a boy and a girl. I thought that they weren't safe out here in the aqueduct. I needed to grab them and get them out of here. But it may also have occurred to me that these children were actually phantoms.

I came back to my senses and found myself walking along some stone-floored promenade in a big park. I was walking up a slope and looking out over an iron railing to my left. Down from the railing was a slope of brambly, leafless trees.

There were some women walking behind me at one point. They said that the flood in St. Louis was going to be 72 inches, once the rain really got going. I couldn't believe it! I didn't want to believe it. I told myself that the weather was too nice here for a flood to happen, even somewhere as far from here as St. Louis.

My dad said, "They're still saying that we're going to have 72 inches of precipitation. It's going to start out looking mild, with only ----- inches. But then it's going to go up really fast and hit 72 inches."

I said, "72 inches! Sheez! That's crazy!"

May dad said, "Well, that's not so bad. We've seen floods like this in St. Louis before. But what's really strange about this one is that it's happening at Christmas -- in December. We aren't even supposed to have rain in December!"

Now I realized that the women I'd heard speaking before were right. As unbelievable (and for some reason inconvenient) as it had sounded to me, it really was going to flood in St. Louis.

As I approached the top of the slope, I could see that, as the promenade plateaued, it also widened out a lot. Over to the right was an overlook, giving a good view over the town we were in (probably somewhere in New England).

But as I got to the wider area, there were a whole lot more people walking around. There were tons of people heading down the slope I'd just come up from. I could tell -- somehow -- that these people were preparing for the flood, even though we were nowhere near it.

One woman, short, skinnyish, and white, maybe in her sixties, with blonde-grey hair and eyeglasses, was walking among the crowd, heading down the slope. The woman was trying to spread some kind of wisdom. She wore a Hindu-esque robe, though I think she thought of herself as a Buddhist.

The woman was saying, "Global warming. Global warming. The flood in December is from global warming." I knew the woman was trying to get somebody interested in her idea so that she could preach to them about being an environmentalist. She may even have had pamphlets about it.

Some younger women nearby may have been agreeing with the older woman. I kind of agreed as well. But I didn't feel like I needed to listen to environmentalist preaching. Hell, I thought. I hardly use any electricity, anyway. All I do is read books.

There was a book sale going on just off to my right as I hit the flat area of the promenade. I got really interested. The books were used, and they all looked really old. I thought I might make some good finds.

But some tall, white man with a bit of a pot belly saw I was interested in the book sale. He tried to get in my way, so that he could get to whatever books I was interested in first. The man looked pretty well-off. He wore a plaid, button-up shirt, tucked into some nice jeans.

I may have tried to avoid the man altogether. But he may have seen that. So he just walked right in front of me, standing broad-chested, his hands on his hips, as if he were trying to block me from getting near any of the books at all.

I must have done something, because I got past the man, anyway. But I was pissed that the man would try to stop me like that! I started cussing the man out, not loud, but in a regular voice, so he could hear me, but I wouldn't be making a scene.

The man reacted by coming to the bookshelf I was at and bending right over in front of all the books, basically edging me out of the way. He started saying stuff about how he didn't know why I was so upset about what he'd done. But if I was so upset, he'd do it some more. And then, he said, we'd see how upset I got.

I told the man to fuck off, and I walked away from him. He seemed to want to start a fight, because now he was calling kind of loudly after me, "Why'd you have to say that? What'd I do to you?"

But I just decided to walk away from the man and ignore him. I walked around to the other side of the bookshelves and found myself in an area full of shelves and bins packed with vinyl records and comic books. This area almost felt like it was indoors.

I looked around here for a while. I may have found some kind of comic book that I was interested in. It may have seemed a little bit like porn. But I may have decided I really didn't have enough money to waste on something like this, after all.

I was walking out of this section and back out to the promenade. But the exit was a bit narrower now. And another older man was walking up toward the aisle I was trying to get out of.

This guy was kind of fat. He saw me and seemed to want to block my way. He stood and looked at the left shelf of items, blocking up almost the whole aisle. There was also a life-size carboard cut-out of either Superman or Iron Man, which blocked most of the right side of the aisle.

I had to squeeze through the fat man and the cut-out. I'm pretty sure I didn't even touch the man. But he may have turned back to look at me, as if I'd threatened him somehow.

I gave the man a complaisant, friendly smile. But the man just looked at me like he hated my guts. I walked away. I wanted to confront the guy. But I knew that that would only make things worse.