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I'm having very intresting dreams at the time being, but not so much recall. So I decided to post one of my key-dreams from couple of years back. This really did change something in me.

So this dream was played in two acts. They both were long and complex.. but I remember the first act only vaguely.


APOCALYPTIC PARTY AND MENTAL HOSPITAL

ACT I - The Party

I was at this underground festival wich I did partisipate in wakig life many years ago (when it did happen I was in delusional state so the experience there was quite psychedelic also in real life). The parties in dream were parties of apocalypse. All kind freaky stuff happened but in a somewhat "normal" way. I was acting as a ringmaster and tried to keep the spirit up, help people to find their way there and help the world to change. I was wearing tailcoat and top hat (I own over 100 year old tailcoat and did have over 150 years old top hat in waking life). At one point I slipped and fell into deep woodstocklike mud pit and got a moment humblening. I remember thinking how on earth I can get these clothes clean, how much it will cost and is it even possible etc.

After that and also scattered around the I act I tried to contact people (spent much time in phone etc) so that they would know that parties are happening and get there. I moved in dreamlike manner across the communication lines. In one point I had moved to the town where I live in waking life and I was in phone booth talking to someone in festival. He/she told my that one person I know had arrived to the festival. In the waking version of those festival he wasn't there and I remembered that. It came clear to me that he has arrived from present to parties that were in past. It was absolutly clear in dream that this was what had happened. I became thrilled that things were finally working and the first act ended.

ACT II - The Sanitarium

I found myself at the mental hospital. I was patient there (I've been hospitalized iwl). My girlfriend from that time came to visit me. I said to her that let's go to my room so that we can be in peace. So we get to this room and in the back of the room is another door that hasn't been there. We go through the door and after a corridor we come to this room full of mirrors and old paintings. Paintings are somewhat romantic but also impressionistic. All of them symbolise some theme or situation in intimate relationship. Situations are universal and about the crisis, glings, disconent, frustration and situations you end up reliving from time to time (loops). We deside to go deeper into this knowing that they are only loops. So we go deeper this time travelling through mirrors and paintings. Every time we go through one we end up to act the situation in our life, but in some level we are lucid that this is what we have to do to get to the end of this road. After every passage we end up to new room full of, yes, paintigs and mirrors.

Then we get to this one painting. It's quite small and from 18?? I think. It's a holiday and tourist town in French normandy. There are houses that are cafeterias, inns and restaurants. There is a promande and in the side of it a low wall, by the wal there is stairs that lead to beach. In the middle of promenade there is a phone booth (not realistical at that period of time) and in the phone booth there is a gentleman talking to phone. He is wearing top hat and tail coat. After a decent distance there is a woman waiting for her man. She is leaning to her umberella. We decide to go through this painting. We end up to relive many symbolically analogous sitution from our relationship. In those situations either one of us is talking on a phone or using computer. The other one is jealous for attention that other is giving to outside world and at the same time hoping that he/she could be on computer/phone conncting to outside world. These scene goes on too long. The whole labyrinth that we have travelled inside the sanitarium collapses and we are back in my room. My girlfriend is shouting at me for some obscure reason that I don't understand. She doesn't have any memories of us travelling in that maze of realtionship. She leaves from the room and bangs door loudly.

I end up wandering around the sanitarium. Group of three or four patient come to talk to me. One of them woman, other are men. They want me to go to a room where some of them live. I'm cautious cause you never know how to trust other looneys but in the end I decide to follow them. So I get to this room and they start to talk to me very entusiastically. They have difficulties to remember not to talk at the same time. They tell me stories and try to make me remeber things that I have blocked out. Their message is this: they are group of reality revolutionaries (not the kind that want to rebel against reality but the kind that want to fight for new, better, reality. In fact I'm one of them. We have done many missions together before. There are many more of us. Some of us (like me) don't remember this.
As the story goes on I start to remember bits and bits. And as I remember their appereances start to change. I get to see glimbses who they really are. Some fantastical features in their looks.

After they have downloaded this information to me they say that it's a time of next strike. It's now. So we go to common areas of department, and strike starts. It is a fasion show. So the nurses happen to be caring and motherlike and have allowed the patient to keep little fun. Patients get to arrange fasion show and the nurses are sitting in the audience. Everybody is dressed in blankets and pillowcases and stuff that is avaible. My comrades ask me to sit on a ground and hold a flashlight. So I sit in lotus possition and held the lamp like a torch. I start to get tired and doze off. As I start to get closer to dream (in a dream) I see glimbses of my fellow model patients inner shelves. Not just how they are but who they experience to be. Then I fell asleep.

I wake up to this large dog licking my neck and get scared. Wait a minute. It's not a dog but a dragonlike being whose tail is around my neck. And it stays there. I'm still among the models/patients and the nurses are watching but this freaking dragon stays there and freaking nurses are staring right into it. So I realise that reality is quite leaking. Divine intervention (lights and stuff) put this large book into my lap. The books is about cracking the code of reality. I open it from random spread. The other page has this chart about history: years, periods, rulers and things. The other page has a map of time were every time periods are not separeted by time but by geographic distances. There is island called 1960's and a city called French revolution with suburbs that are like American independence war and other too. Large nation called Archaic and everything else. When I read the both pages simultaniosly the timeline of world starts to collapse to a one hypermoment where everything is simultaniosly.

I open the book from another spread. It talks about multidimensional masters that have reached the fifth dimension and effect the world from there by telling stories. They use codenames to let the awake people know what's the story about. There are names of waking world playwrights, songwriters, comic writers, book authors, poets and other. Code opens up who they really are, who tell the same story, what other aliasses those master use in waking world. As I read this code the optional storylines start to collapse in one hyperstory with all possibilities. I got this strong sensation that now the reality is really open. Mental hospital has mostly faded away. We (and there are many of us now) desided to make one last effort to really crack reality up.

(this part is very hazy.. so I don't even remember how I experienced the last effort. Was it a party, orgy, battle, chessgame or what.. maybe all at once)

We win (kind of). Reality has changed into Orwellian Nazi Germany where our side wears uniforms of SS officers. Some of as start losing their memories and act like their roles. I'm alarmed and depressed. Something must be done. I pick up a piece of paper and start writing. Asking questions from remaining resistance about what should we do. After I've written those things the letters reshape into answers and suggestions. They so me this one sigil that I remember from somewhere and suggest that maybe we should use it. I think for a moment and then agree. I use the sigil and the dream collapses. Error message appears in English (it's not my native tongue). I'm not sure was it a mental or visual text. It says:

FUNNY THING JUST HAPPENED
THERE IS NO FANTASY THAT HISTORY HAS FOREWARNED US
YOU HAVE TO CONSTRACT EVERY PARSEC OF STORY YOURSELF

I wake up and have this surrealistic feeling for the next couple of days

I am talking to my daughter about lucid dreaming, not sure where we were but we are at a table drinking, there are lots of people around us and it is very noisy. A woman came across to us ((think she was in charge of the place)) and she asked me about lucid dreams and asked if i could help anyone there to do it, i am a little taken back ((but didn't become lucid)) but said "hell yeah why not"..i stand on a table and everyone looks at me, i turn around and begin speaking to a couple on the table and one of them say they can already do it but they dont realise how much yet ((???)) dream skip.... I have a book in my hand and i'm asking somebody a question, a door opened and a young lad stood there and was looking at me, i seemed to recognise Him but at the same time i didn't ((as if the image kept changing)) There is a bright light and then i go into my next dream

I was in a house, my hubby was on a bed with another woman, I watch as they touched each other and moan, i feel physically sick ((dream skip)) I go upstairs in a house, my hubby was in bed asleep, ((i thought "yeah you go ahead and sleep now you'v had your fun!!")) i go to check on my girls, my 2 little ones have gone downstairs and were hiding, i catch them playing some kind of cryptic game in the bathroom ((yet i have no bathroom downstairs lol)) i say "you could get killed here, don't you realise how dangerous this is" I feel very concerned for their safety. I grab them and carry them upstairs, they are crying hysterically. ((dream skip)) I am in bed with my hubby, i try to get close to him but he moves away from me and gets up. ((dream skip)) I am alone in another room and a different bed, i can see my hubby walking about then i wake up.

Deleted

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A young version of Ozzy Osbourne reclined in a longish chair. The young Ozzy had long hair and a kind of big pot belly. Ozzy wore a long, white cotton dress that may have had a patch of black on it.

Ozzy either said or thought, "The greatest shall be least, and the least shall be greatest." He might have said this with my voice or thought it as if he were thinking it through my thoughts.

Dream #2

I was looking down to a baby that sat on the floor. The baby wore nothing but a diaper and may have been playing with some toys.

I looked up and saw that I was in a video store. The store kind of reminded me of a Hollywood Video in my hometown. There were rows and rows of shelves of videotapes. I was amazed at how huge the place was.

Dream #3

No vision. I had the thought, "I might take a book with me."

Dream #4

A black man stood before a reception desk in some kind of lobby. The desk and walls were designed to look like they were made of wood. But the color was so strange -- a kind of greyish, purplish brown that everything seemed to sink into. There may also have been a column of the same color near the desk.

A black woman sat behind the desk. She asked the man if she could help him. The man replied in a gentle, slightly high-pitched voice, "Service desk?"

Dream #5

I was in a room with a woman and a man. The room felt like a hotel room or meeting room. It was bright with natural light, which was probably yellowed by the room's fluorescent light. I sat in a wooden chair, like for a dining table. The woman sat off to my left, possibly sitting in a bigger chair or possibly even sitting on a small coffee table. The man sat on a couch that seemed to be made out of white leather.

I couldn't see the woman, although I think she was young, maybe in her 20s. The man was older, maybe in his late 50s. He was kind of short, but strong-looking. He had tough, tan, slightly wrinkled skin. He had white hair that was a little wiry, though it was arranged well. He wore khaki slacks, a navy blue blazer, and a pale blue dress shirt.

I had apparently been complaining to the man about something. He asked me if I wanted him to talk to ----- about it. I said no, that that didn't seem like the right person to talk to. It may have seemed like talking to that person may have struck me as making too big a deal out of the situation. But there was a different person I thought we could talk to.

The man was disappointed in me for not wanting to take his suggestion. Before I could even tell him about the other person, the man stood up out of the couch. I was standing as well. The man said, "Bah!" And shoved past me, heading out the door.

This is the second Slave to Aliens dream I remember.

It starts in the middle, but I don't know if there was a beginning.

I was asking for change to buy a Coke. The guy told me he couldn't give me change because "they" (the aliens) take half of the ones you buy for themselves. That sucked!
Then, I was at a table with what seemed like old high-school text books. They all had loose papers and candy in them (?), and everyone was supposed to take a book. It was instructions on how life was going to be with aliens running the world.

I took a book and tried to manage all the shit that was inside. Someone took one of my Starburst as everything was open and sliding around. I took it back, and then gave it back to the person who had taken it. They obviously really wanted it.

Then I got some totally whacked movie visuals of these aliens. They were in flying army vehicles. They would go to apartments that were like hotels with one plate-glass window after another where peoples living-rooms were. These aliens were shooting inside each one just fucking everybody up. I guess they were; I didn't really see anyone getting killed, but glass was breaking and they were just exterminating everyone. I wasn't really scared though. At this point I was watching it like a movie, though it kind of sucked because it was still my world they were destroying.

Anyways, they went to another set of apartments that looked a bit different, but same concept. The aliens started shooting each one, and finally went inside one of the units.

Inside, I was there on the bed. My little girl was on the computer looking at pictures--then she had two friends with her.

My dream ended there. I had forgotten it when I woke up, but remembered I had had a dream I wanted to remember, so I started trying to remember it and did
pretty quickly.

Good morning, everybody. The first two dreams had a kind of half-dream feel to them. I don't think I was all the way asleep.

Dream #1

I was in bed, lying on my stomach. I saw my phone, even though I may not have held it in my hands. I continued reading the book I had gone to bed reading, Psi Spies, by Jim Marrs. The section of the book was about Ingo Swann. A lot of the stuff sounded familiar, like stuff I'd previously read about Swann. But the language was really weird at points, almost absurd.

Dream #2

I was reading from my phone again. I was somewhat aware of the dream-like quality of my experience. I kind of found it funny that I was reading a book that was less than a foot away from my head by whatever kind of complicated psychic means I was using. I thought I my check the text I was reading now against the text of the book when I "woke up," although I knew it probably wouldn't match. Some of the language was just too absurd.

Dream #3

Possibly a black and white film view from a train window of a landscape and some kind of factory building. A narrator spoke about how Frederick Wiseman was the predecessor of A.A. Milne. The narrator said that even though Wiseman was a pioneer, he still didn't have the courage to say everything he wanted to say. A.A. Milne took Wiseman's statements and carried them forward with their full meaning.

I may have caught the absurdity of this in my dream. Milne wrote his children's books a while before Wiseman started making his controversial documentaries. Nevertheless, I was kind of sad to hear the narrator's words, as if they were true after all, and I had missed the basic fact.

Dream #4

I "came into work" (I may only have had a vision of doing so). My computer screen was on, and open to a database that holds our reports. The screen was open to a report I had written yesterday.

Somehow I came to understand that my boss had -- again! -- completely ignored the report I'd written and made a completely different report all his own.

Dream #5

I was in a grocery store, before something like the conveyor belt checkout stand. But this checkout stand was all the way in a back corner of the store, like in the packaged beef and lunchmeat area.

I was with my mom, one or two young, black men, and a young, black woman. The cashier was an old lady. The cashier kept pulling stuff out from her side of the checkout stand and throwing it onto the conveyor belt. All of us then had to bag it up.

At some point the woman was throwing unpackaged diapers onto the conveyor belt. I had a huge, opened, empty diaper package. I sat on the ground with the bag between my legs and loaded all the diapers into the bag. The filled bag may have come up to about mid-thigh on me.

At another point the old lady herself had filled a paper bag so full with canned goods that it fell over and spilled all over the conveyor belt. The woman looked terribly annoyed. I felt ashamed. Had we really bought all this stuff? Wasn't it too much?

The old lady said, "Look, I don't have any more paper bags. We can only do plastic now." I understood this to mean that the old lady was finally getting tired of dealing with all the food we had apparently bought.

I thought we should all make things as easy on her as possible by packing everything up as quickly as possible. The two black men seemed a little reluctant to speed up, possibly because they didn't believe they could really put all the food away -- as if there weren't enough bags, or as if all the bags would break.

I told the young men, as if this would solve all their problems, "Look, it's easy. When you get diapers, put them into one of these big diaper bags. Open in all the way up, and it'll hold a lot. Trust me: I just did it."

The young men acted like that made sense. The young woman looked at me with pity, as if she knew that the young men thought I was kind of crazy.

I'm in a used bookstore, and as I'm browsing the titles I come across a book that my dear friend and I bought together in waking reality. I am disturbed to realize that this is the self same book, still inscribed with our names inside the front cover. Upset, I continue looking around, getting more distraught to see that two or more of our old treasures are also here, things we bought together, like the Spirit Cards. It breaks my heart that she would give these things up, and my mind races, thinking maybe she doesn't want any reminds of me now that I am living so far away. I resolve to call her.

I am back at my Grandparent's old house in North Vancouver, that my dear friend and I nicknamed "Spider Palace". I look out the front door to see a very very large post sorting facility kind of wall thing. Kind of like over sized post boxes. I see an old man who looks like he's had a rough life and realize that I don't live in this house anymore, he's the tenant now. He checks his post at the strange post wall.

I notice now that in the drive way that he is walking up, I've placed some signs, one of which says "Open for Business". I go to get them wondering how I can change them to read "Closed for X-Mas holidays". The postman arrives and he's sorting the post. The over sized post boxes have huge pictures of cartoon characters on them, like Tweety Bird and Sylvester the Cat. I open one and put something specific into it for... my son?

Dream skip and I am talking to my man. I plan to ride a horse north for some reason, and I am asking him if he thinks the horse will run too fast.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was leaving "my mother's house." It may have been a grey day, and there may have been snow on the ground. I stood right outside the front door. My mom stood just inside.

I told my mom I loved her. I gave her a hug. My mom seemed really short. When I hugged her, it felt like I was breaking her spine, or like I had hugged her in such a way as to feel a part of her spine that had already been broken.

I walked to the car. As I did, I thought about a small cup of ice cream I had in the back seat of the car. It was like I still had the taste of the ice cream, or even some actual ice cream, in my mouth.

In my mind's eye, I saw the ice cream sitting in the back seat. The ice cream was kind of melted and creamy, and it had some kind of big, marshmallow-shaped, but colorful and jelly-like, things in it. The spoon in the cup seemed to be coated with the melted ice cream.

Apparently my grandmother was driving me to the airport. But the car we were taking was more like one my mom would drive. It was a small hatchback, kind of old looking. It was messy on the inside and the outside. The outside was kind of grimy and greasy. The inside was full of old garbage and fast food containers and stuff.

I was kind of disgusted that I'd kept my ice cream in the messy back seat. I thought it might not be a good idea for me to eat the ice cream.

I walked up to the driver's side of the car. My grandma was still standing outside the car, with the door wide open. As I walked up to my grandma I either thought to myself or asked out loud if I'd showed my mom well enough that I cared about her.

I was in the car, on the passenger side, riding through a kind of busy part of a suburban town, with either my grandma or some man driving the car. It was now black night.

The driver told me, "You showed your mom you cared about her. And the fact that you're worried about it shows that you care a lot more than a lot of people do nowadays."

We got stuck in traffic on some kind of quaint-looking, Main Street type area that was all decked out in lights, as if for Christmas. We kind of inched through the traffic and then ended up turning right on a side street and up a hill into something like a residential area.

As we were doing this, the driver, now most likely a man, continued, "That reminds me of a project I was reading about. People were making Christmas cards to send to the soldiers. But a lot of the people making the cards thought it would be good to send cards with anti-war messages on them.

"And that's what I mean about care. The people over there don't need to hear somebody telling them 'NO WAR.' They need us to tell them, 'We're thinking about you, and we hope you're doing well.'"

We had gotten up to the top of the hill and were now sitting on the right end of a long conference table. We were apparently inside a room. The room had fluorescent lighting. There was also a wall-sized bookshelf that I was looking straight at.

But it was also somehow like we were in a cafe with a big window, or as if we were actually floating out over the top of the hill, looking down to the Main Street area. It was like, even as I was looking straight at the bookshelf, I also saw the town below.

The man had gotten onto the topic of two books. Both books were about economics. One book was written by someone I didn't know. The other was written by Warren Buffett. The man seemed to be talking more about the book by the other guy. He then ended up talking about something extremely interesting and insightful (which, of course, I forgot).

As the man spoke about the really interesting stuff, I realized how nice he looked. He was white, with well-groomed, white hair. He wore a nice suit with a tan jacket, a subdued blue shirt, and a somewhat colorful (peach? pink?) tie. His skin was deeply tanned. His face was kind of thin and angular. But his complexion mesmerized me. It was perfect!

I then asked the man, "Who did you say made that comment? Did you say it was Warren Buffett or the other guy?"

The man said, "No. That was from Warren Buffett's new book."

I thought to myself that I needed to get Buffett's new book. I seemed to keep getting Buffett somehow confused with Alan Greenspan. But I could see the cover of Buffett's new book. It kind of looked like a modern cover of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.

The book wasn't an autobiography. It was actually a book on economic theory. I thought, "This is exactly what I've been looking for!" The man and I spoke back and forth for a bit on how odd it was that everybody didn't know about this book. It apparently wasn't selling much at all.

I looked down and to my left. I could see the conference table. But, again, I could "see through" the table and the room, outside and down the hill, to the lit-up Main Street area.

As I looked at the table, I was kind of hunched down and over some sheet (or pad?) of notebook paper. I scrawled on the piece of paper, in a very sloppy version of cursive, either the word "Feed" or the word "Feel."

In many dreams of mine, the same fragment has happened:
"I am sitting down in some place, usually my kitchen, when I flip the page of the book I'm reading to a big picture of a wolf staring head-on at me. I feel a small surge of terror when I see it because it's moving and growing as if it was running towards me. My sight swings back out of my body and to my right, and I see the wolf jump out of the book at me, and I wake up."
The wolf image would look kind of like my avatar, but with it's body behind it.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

It was really late at night. I was walking out on a sidewalk in front of the building where my old job was. I noticed that there was a karaoke bar similar to the one I regularly go to. I was kind of surprised to see a second bar like this, so I went in to check it out.

There was a small, narrow staircase leading down into the bar. The bar was also small and narrow, very dark. There were a few young, white men sitting at the bar. They looked kind of miserable, a little scraggly and unkempt. The bartenders were all Indian, and they all wore headdresses.

I looked for the karaoke song books. I found a couple laying around. At some point, I looked at a menu and ordered food -- home fries and cucumbers. I didn't really feel like singing. The place was so dark and cheerless. I looked around, but I couldn't seem to find any screens for singing.

I finally saw a television screen. A news program was playing on it. A mass grave had been found somewhere. Some group like the al Qaeda had murdered a bunch of people, possibly Jewish people. They had buried each person in a specific square and then put some sort of statement in the square of soil over each person.

The news report may have said that the statements were Jewish or written in Hebrew or the language of the victim. In this way, it almost seemed like the statement was a statement of solidarity with the victim, as if the people had been part of some kind of voluntary death. This was confusing to me.

I then got a closer look at the grave -- still on the television screen. Some squares of soil were undug, revealing people's bodies, which weren't decayed at all, so that it looked like the people had only recently died. Other squares were still untouched. I saw the writing on the soil. A lot of the writing was actually ancient Egyptian. I couldn't figure out why al Qaeda would use ancient Egyptian.

A young man, apparently of the family of the people running this bar, was sitting behind the bar or at the end of the bar. He was dressed in a modern fashion. His skin was pale, and his tightly curly hair was cut short. He may have had green eyes.

The man turned around and looked past me, into the kitchen, which was bright with fluorescent light (and which may have been the only source of light in the bar). The man spoke to one of the older men, saying something to the effect of, "Well, that's what (whatever race it was) gets. They deserved it."

I felt like, when the man was saying that, he was also saying something about me. I felt like the men didn't like me because I appeared to be of whatever race it was that they didn't like. I figured I'd just get my food and go.

The young man took my money and handed me a small, white bag (paper or plastic or some kind of papery plastic?). There was, I could tell, a very small, clear, plastic box inside of it. I thought I'd ordered a decent amount of food. And I thought I'd paid a good amount for the amount of food I thought I'd ordered.

The young man was already talking more with the older men and making it clear that he was going to ignore me for the rest of the time I was there. I opened the bag to see if I'd actually gotten what I'd ordered. I saw a little bit of home fries and a little bit of cucumbers in the small, plastic box. I figured that was fine, and that I'd take it. I didn't feel like arguing with the men to get more food.

I walked toward the exit. As I passed something that looked like a tiered display for desserts, but which held karaoke books, I thought that I would say something out loud like, "Yeah, I really like this place, but I'll come back at another time. I just wanted to check it out and see if it was good." It was like I thought the men actually cared whether I liked this place and like they actually wanted my business.

I am an apprentice magician. My teacher tells me that I will be tested. He doesn't say when the test will be or what it will be like. I walk around the building and come in to a room where some magicians are working. There is a big skeleton that looks like a dinosaur hanging in the air. The magicians are slowly trying to assemble it. For some reason I think that they will drop it and it will break, so I use my magic to assemble it. I do so much faster than the other magicians. I notice that the skeleton is from a dragon. This is the test that my teacher told me about and I have passed it. I go to the magicians and expect them to praise me, but they don't seem to be impressed. I think that they should at least be happy because now they don't have to spend hours assembling the skeleton and can do something else instead, but they say that it doesn't matter. A magician always has something to do. They tell me to go to the library to do some research.

I go to the library and look at the books. They are big and beautiful. I pick one and go to sit down. There are many pictures in the book I'm reading. It starts by describing different ways of drawing. There's a picture of some trees drawn in coloured pencil. I think that I'll use the method described there next time I draw. After that the book tells about different heights of trees. It says that trees can be any height and that they even can be different kinds of trees next to each other. I think that is obvious and I don't understand why they'd have to talk about it in a book.

E. is there too. He is watching the children's programme Buu klubben. I wonder why he's watching this since neither of us has watched it in at least 10 years. this episode is about a reporter who visits a female sailor on her boat. It seems to be continuing from last week. It is raining. The sailor tells the reporter about fishing. She shows her how to use a fishing rod. I notice that no one is driving the boat. I think that's odd, but I don't know anything about fishing so I guess that's how it's done. The waves become higher as the sailor continues fishing. I am now with them in the boat. I turn around and notice a man in the water. The waves don't affect him the same way they affect the boat. He scares me and I think that he must be stalking the sailor.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A group of young men sat in a basement room like in some kind of church or school. The walls may have been red bricks. There were windows high up on the walls, letting in plenty of natural light.

The young men sat in a group of folding chairs arranged in a triangle near the left wall of the room. A group of older men entered the room. They sat inn a triangle of folding chairs opposite the men. I saw all this as if my eye level were at about seat-level with the chairs and as if I were between the two triangles of chairs.

The young men had apparently served during some war in the role of torturers. These young men had actually tortured the old men. But now the two groups were supposed to make peace and be friends.

One of the young men asked the old men a kind of silly question about art or movies. One old man didn't want to hear it. The old man was kind of short, with tough, tan skin, and thinning, grey-white hair. He wore a grey blazer and slacks and a maroon sweater. He began shouting at the young man, didn't he think anything he'd done was wrong?

I now got a good view of the young men for the first time. They all projected a feeling of being very beautiful, though they were all actually kind of plain looking. Yet this feeling of beauty also created a scary feeling of calm, methodical cruelty. The men all had books in their laps, different books, as if they had each been independently reading before the old men came in.

One of the young men, a tall, pale man with thick-rimmed glasses, frizzy, black hair, and stubble, and wearing a kind of loose, pudding-yellow sweater, asked the old man a question. The young man had a pencil, as if her were going to write notes in his book.

Somehow the old man and young man got into an argument that implied that now the old men had been the torturers while the young men had been tortured.

The young man asked, "Why did you gather all of us up? Why did you carry us away?"

The old man said, "Because you looked guilty."

The young man asked, "How could we look guilty?"

The old man said, "You know, your looks. You look like a certain type."

I may have figured in my dream or just waking up from my dream that the old man meant "the Jewish type."

This occurred when I was napping. I was reading a book (Homo Faber) and decided to take a nap as I was absolutely knackered, having read the book mere minutes before falling asleep might have aided in creating my dream scenario.

23rd of March 2011: non-lucid, lucid, extra comment

I was reading a book (see above) when it suddenly occurred to me that I had no recollection of how I got to this point in the story. At this point I remembered that I had fallen asleep. However, rather than utilizing the knowledge of me being in a dream, I woke up and checked my iPod clock, as I feared I had been sleeping way longer than I had intended.

On the one hand, I'm psyched that I got this close. On the other hand, I'm extremely bummed. This was stupid of me...

i'm in my bed,... i realise i'm dreaming by doing the light switch reality check, when i become lucid, i jump out of my bed, and end up, in a workshop, i look around,... 'where am i?!', a group of gnomes come out and greet and welcome me, i look around, i examine my souroundings, trying to remain calm, i open some drawers and presses, and cupboards around the room, i find some items, like chocolate, ,money, string.,... then, i open a door, and practice reece jones's dream door technique, i attempt to summon a cat, i think, I summon a bike, then i try to summon a book, i summon, a bird. ????.. then.... a demon ... a black shadowy thing is at the back of the room, so then i dissapear, and wake up. ♥

a
March 4, 2011
These are nonlucid highly symbolic dreams. I have these every now and then and everything is logically strange but symbolically it all makes sense. This “sense” has to be wrung out of it usually over several days of pondering.

Dream 1: TSA
I am shopping with my mom in what may be an airport and we go into different convenience stores. The TSA is there at the back of the store.

Dream 2: Front Yard
Dialog will be red
I am in my front yard and the air is fresh and new like a spring morning yet it also feels like a dream place feeling of those things, feelings I am used to. Looking at the yard I see a red something on the lawn and go to check it out and it is a little red book titled Eden in gold letters. While walking across the lawn to my car my neighbor [who in RL never says much] says “here ya go!” as he holds out one of my plastic Japanese tea bottles. “Thanks” I say and start to walk off. Being more friendly than he ever is in RL he says cheerfully, “pay it forward” as if this is like saying ‘see you later.’ I say “K” and he replies “or sleep with a fatty…” ‘WTF, what did he just say?’ I thought about this to such an extent I woke up!