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    1. 230915: Vague memories of books, snotty kid wants to eat pseudo-bacon and potato casserole.

      by , 09-23-2015 at 05:11 PM (The Dream Journal)
      Fragments:

      As I read a book in a room with grey natural light coming from my right, I remember a quote by a writer and I pencil it into the last page of a chapter where there is empty space. In pencil I write "If only Huxley had such supple minds to impress." I see a old-timey picture of young men in college in the 50's, wearing polo shirts but the men have bulldog heads.

      The book turns into a sci-fi anthology, each chapter takes place centuries after the one before it. The cover and the first page of each chapter has a 3D peace sign shot at an angle, computer generated, very late 90's-early 00's. The chapter names are long and convoluted like a history book. A fragment of one title that stands out is "...the anti-baby classes of anarcho-populism."

      In a diner's kitchen, morning sunlight coming through the far windows by the tables. There are some leftovers of a fake bacon and potato casserole. Too little to save, I begin to eat the rest until a snotty, bratty boy comes over and says he was going to eat it, obviously lying and just being difficult.
      Tags: books, kid, sci-fi
      Categories
      dream fragment
    2. The translation of a book and old negatives

      by , 08-21-2015 at 06:00 PM
      Setting loosely based on China some centuries ago, vaguely Ming dynasty. Two men have been speaking to a human woman about a book, but they're interrupted by a human man who is a friend of hers, of sorts - he offers to join their expedition. He has some manner of expertise to do with this book they're looking for, and if he comes along, the woman's presence would be unnecessary. The leader of the two at first is ready to agree, this would be much preferable.

      But the human man then says, why should his cut be only 10%? Make it 100% - he'll keep the book himself, but translate it for them. To his mind, this would be a better deal for all of them, he expects this to be accepted. But the leader of the two is offended by his presumption and kills him, abandoning his human appearance in the process - his eyes are covered by a cloudy grey film, his teeth are fangs on both upper and lower jaws. I'm remembering a year earlier, when that human man had been doing something in a place where many books were stored, directly above where this man had been sleeping in the ground for a long time. The human woman, watching him kill her friend, blames herself - she was involved in something that happened in a market a year ago, when this man woke up.

      Belle is in the kitchen of someone else's house, someplace that has servant quarters, and she's found a jar of a certain weed that's been spilled - it's not something that should be used for cooking, it's dangerous, causes disfigurement. The implication in finding it spilled across the counter is that a servant was carelessly exposed to it. It's said that it only affects those who say rude/cruel/insulting things while holding it - a physical disfigurement to reflect a disfigurement of the soul. She calls Rumplestiltskin to dispose of it safely, and to look into what it was doing there.

      As he removes it, he looks around the building and sees old photos and negatives of him and Belle among various trophies that the owner of the house has collected - there's a sense that these photos are things that were stolen from him. He looks at one in particular, a moment when he'd stopped Belle from saying that she loved him. He regrets this, and says he would listen now. She says, "I would have meant it then." And wouldn't now, is the implication. But she stops him from moving away from her by grabbing him roughly by the hair.

      She tells him her plan is to find her ideal world this time, with the money that Regina left her, and with him, as they're stuck together due to a previous deal. He reminds her that he's no longer capable of appearing human, which will cause difficulties in many other worlds. "I'll work with it," she says. A previous deal requires him to leave at least a piece of himself in this current world, and I see an image of his hand chained to the sand, in the surf.
    3. Plump Calico Cat (DILD)

      by , 07-04-2015 at 02:28 AM
      I was looking under the bed for my two cats, and they were there, but to my surprise I found a third! It was an enormous calico, at least twice the size of any other cat I'd ever seen, and unbelievably fat. Startled by this strange discovery, I pointed it out to my husband. He gave me a suspicious look and said, "That's Crowl," as if explaining the obvious.

      "He must have at least fifteen percent of the Internet!" I exclaimed, thinking that there's no way such an unusual cat could avoid becoming an Internet sensation. My husband nodded in confirmation.

      "Where did he come from?" I inquired. It seemed like a reasonable question, since I had never seen this cat before but my husband appeared to be familiar with him.

      Again my husband looked at me in wary confusion, as if he couldn't understand why he had to keep telling me things I should know perfectly well. "We got him from Donna Slope."

      "Who's Donna Slope?" The tension was growing with every question I asked. My husband was now staring at me as if he feared that I had finally lost my mind. I gathered that this was the name of someone we knew quite well, for for the life of me I could not remember a single detail about her.

      I noticed that the sliding door to the patio was open, and one of our own cats and Crowl had gone outside. I expressed alarm: ours is an elderly indoor cat, and definitely not allowed outside without close supervision. My husband seemed strangely unconcerned: "It's okay, he'll follow Crowl." I was not reassured. "We'll have to talk about this later," I said, indicating the events of the entire morning, and went out after the cats.

      The two were already walking along the side of the house toward the street. To my alarm I saw that the front gate was open, and they went right through it. For some reason after I caught up with them I picked up Crowl first. As I walked back along the side of the house I noticed an assortment of little pumpkins or round gourds next to the path. One green one was rattling violently as if something were trying to get out. This piqued my curiosity, but I could not investigate with my arms full of cat, so I resolved to take a closer look after both cats were secured back indoors. I unceremoniously dumped Crowl back inside the bedroom, making sure to close the screen door behind him, and then went back for the other cat.

      I was worried at having left my cat unattended, but reminded myself that he moved very slowly in his old age and he could not have gone far. As long as he hadn't blundered out into the street, he should be okay. I soon spotted him next to the sidewalk chewing on grass... but something was amiss. There were now two cats of his appearance. I studied them closely until I thought I was sure which one was him, and carried him back inside. After he was safely secured in the house, I went back to investigate those pumpkins.

      The pumpkins ranged in color from green to orange, and seams indicated that the tops could be lifted like those of jack-o-lanterns. What did I expect to find inside? What if it was a coiled up snake, and it bit me? I brushed aside the fear impatiently: the only reason to be afraid of a snake is if you think it might have deadly poison, but that is quite rare. Most snakebites are harmless. Still, why did I want to look inside the pumpkins? I needed a good reason. "Curiosity," I concluded. "Curiosity is the desire to know more." That seemed like a good enough reason in itself.

      The first few pumpkins were hollowed out as I anticipated, but they contained only vague shapes, like something was still buried in the pumpkin flesh. I peered closely at one and I thought it looked lizard-shaped. "Maybe they aren't ready to hatch yet," I concluded. I reached the green one that had been shaking violently. Surely this one was ready! I stopped and tried to imagine what I would most like to find inside, and decided on one of those little troll dolls. Wouldn't be cool to find one that had come to life? I lifted the top and... it was just another lizard. This was vaguely disappointing after I had gotten my hopes up for something more exotic.

      After going back in the house I started thinking hard. I realized something very strange was going on today, and I needed to figure out what it was. My husband was acting very uncharacteristically, and I was apparently unfamiliar with major details of my own life. What could it be? Was it related to time travel? My current situation felt very similar to the life I knew, but not identical... could I have somehow "jumped the tracks" to a different timeline, a different possible present?

      Later I was shelving some books in the kitchen when another possibility came to mind: I could be dreaming. At first this felt very unlikely, but I knew that apperances could be deceiving, and I would need to test thoroughly. I began by looking at a book on the shelf and trying to withdraw it through will alone. Nothing happened, but I thought it might just need a headstart, so I pulled it out about an inch with my fingers, then tried to finish using only mental strength. This time it worked! I let the book hover in the air above my palm to confirm that I was controlling it with my thoughts.

      Alright, so I'm definitely dreaming. Shit. That means I have to remember everything so I can write it down when I wake up. I started going over details from the morning, listing them aloud to better fix them in memory. "Crowl... Donna Slope... lizards in pumpkins..." I'm sure several other things happened that morning that I'm now forgetting, but I lost lucidity and had another long NLD before waking up, so some of the details have faded.
    4. Not Yet a Bookstore

      by , 07-01-2015 at 11:26 AM
      Morning of July 1, 2015. Wednesday.



      Notes: Ever since I was young, I found out (at least for me) that a fulfilling session of intimacy always brought me into the state of blissful sleep paralysis. In fact, sometimes this changeover was so immediate and primarily passive, I sometimes did not move into my long-acknowledged self-as-dream-maker role. I would almost always start to hear loud hypnagogic audio before the beginning of sleep paralysis (though not directly related to the state in my experience - though everyone seems different).

      Imagine my immense surprise as I got older, when people wrote of hypnagogia as being a problematic “condition” (often regarding some sort of “disorder”) and almost always wrote of sleep paralysis as mostly a negative experience of “shadow people” or a dark presence (a load of nonsense in my case - I discovered that the shadow was my conscious mind becoming less-defined as I was then more into the dream state - the opposite of what most people seem to believe). No one could be more baffled than I am over the things I have seen in typical dream literature (especially idiotic “interpreter” sites), none of which has resonated with me throughout my life.

      I mention this in somewhat of a prologue here, as I entered the first dreamscape this time at a passive level. (My first dream of the night is almost always vivid and lucid as I remain in a “carryover” self-as-dream-maker state. I do not usually document such dreams online, especially as they are often very similar and mostly without any plot or theme.) After fulfilling intimacy, I almost immediately heard an imaginary sound pulse as I remained on my back for a time (though I do not typically sleep all night on my back). It was three loud knocks (seemingly on a fictional “dream floor” I was lying on - or rather, a typical state of perceptual bilocation in this state), moving from my right to my left; that is, first knock on my right, second knock right “above” me, and third knock on my left. It does not surprise me at all that there is an actual superstition related to this. Of course, I do not buy it any more than the “shadow people” story. Save that for the people who believe in “dream dictionaries” and the syndicated Wishing Well newspaper feature.

      In my dream, I and my family are living in a large unfamiliar house (though it also seems like a composite in afterthought - one which includes the Loomis Street house and my old Cubitis home). I am involved in sorting things out; mostly a large number of paperback books. For some reason, I have glued at least three paperback books to the otherwise featureless wall covering their back cover with glue and pressing them up. They remain just above my head, though the third one (farthest right) is slightly lower. They are all the same title but different editions. I clearly see the differences on each cover. Two of the covers show the heads and upper shoulders of two ship captains (one with a thick beard, one without) on each in a diagonal layout, but one cover of those two has an embossed tessellated flame design over mostly blue while the other cover is flat (though with otherwise mostly the same imagery), which distinguishes it from the other edition. The other book (first one from my left) looks of an older style of painted cover art (perhaps late 1960s) in mostly darker greens, blues, and grays, and displays a warship and a submarine underneath. I no longer recall the title, though. I know it had “captain and the” in it, possibly “The Submarine Captain and the Warship Captain”.

      For several minutes, I think about what I am doing, wondering if the books will just eventually fall off the wall, the glue not being strong enough to hold over time. This does not happen though and I go into a dream within a dream - though only for a short time before returning to my main dream setting. In this one, I am at a book store seeking a particular edition of this title, asking if they have the “thirteenth edition” (my wife was born on a Friday the thirteenth - though I do not link this association in-dream), but then I realize that the book store owner may not have a clue which edition is which, especially in a secondhand store. I will likely have to do everything on my own, as usual. This is a rather strange reflection, as I have the mind of a passionate book collector in-dream, something I have never been in reality and could not care less about having several copies of the same title in different paperback editions. Even so, I am puzzled over my actions in both layers of my dream, though mainly the “why” of gluing the books on the wall in the first place. I cannot quite work out why I am doing this - especially in my vague concern about the longevity of the setup.

      I am thinking that we should turn our house into a bookstore, though mostly using the porch for patrons. I think that I will mention this to Zsuzsanna and we can start running our bookstore as soon as possible.

      I notice a young girl lying on the couch (opposite the wall where the books are glued). My youngest son is also there but slightly older than in reality. I sit down near them and “remember” that the girl is my daughter, though for some reason I cannot remember her name at all. I am thinking it may be something like Rebecca. I am vividly aware of small grains of sand on the couch, which has been opened out into a single bed that reminds me clearly of my couch/bed in Cubitis for a time (of the kind of couch where the back just drops down in contrast to the one we now have in reality that opens out into a larger bed from a compartment underneath). Even the texture and color looks like the one I had as a teen (for about two years or so).

      Feeling quite strange over not remembering my own daughter’s name I begin to develop an idea on how to get it without being seen as uncaring. I ask her “What is it you like to be called?”. She calmly answers with “Belly”. Oddly enough, this fictional nickname is somewhat an unlikely form of my real daughter’s name (Isabelle) and strikes me as such (“returning” my memory) that my dream is fractured and I very slowly wake. However, I would hope that this is not the name she will use any more than “Izzy” (which I also do not personally care for that much, no offense to the Izzys of the world).
    5. The Slasher

      by , 06-27-2015 at 04:57 PM
      06/26/2015 - THE SLASHER

      We’re driving on this hill, near where I am. Myself, my sister ANDIE and my aunt VERA. We’re being chased by this JASON VOORHEES type of guy. Except he can drive. I stop the car. There’s a vehicle on the middle of the road. Someone on the ground. I go check it out. My sister tells me to go back. I see Jason dude coming in his car so I run back into mine and drive away.

      Next thing I remember is being in my own neighborhood. Jason dude is still chasing us. Now Vera isn’t in the car anymore, instead is my friend ALEXANDRE. We manage to lose him when we pull up in front of a cop’s car.

      We stop by a book store. We all go in. They have loads of french books. Andie wants to buy something for someone. Alexandre knows someone in the bookshop. I wait. My sister decides on a book. When we’re heading out I run into a bunch of guys who manage this soccer club I support in Rio. IRL I hate them, but I’m awfully friendly towards them in the dream.

      When I leave the bookshop I’m alone. I don’t see Alexandre or Andie. I go down some stairs. Where I meet the two of them. We meet two girls, both Andie and Alexandre know them. I do not. They’re exchanging currency, because one of them is dating a foreign guy. We talk about the economy and how everything is so fucked up.

      From there we go to a gallery, they’re buying some clothes. When we’re leaving the store we run into Jason Dude, who seems more human. Almost afraid. I figure the cops must have done something. He steps out of our way and we leave.
    6. Isfael and the Lady's smile

      by , 06-11-2015 at 07:20 PM
      I'm coming out of a mine with a box a man gave me. Sitting down at a table across from a woman I know who's eating lunch, I open up the box and we have a look at the books inside. There's a two-volume set on healing magic that catches my attention; I've seen the first one before but the second is completely new to me, I'm very pleased. The woman asks me for a demonstration, and I laugh, saying I've barely got any understanding of it - it's not something you can learn from books, they're just for pointing you in the right direction, it takes time and work to actually put into practice. She's disappointed and leaves. As I look through the book, I call up a blue healing light that plays around my hand. Reading, the book is saying that it's impossible to progress further without "the Lady's smile."

      I see an image of said Lady, a woman in a void. She's aware of my attention, though her eyes don't focus on me; she talks as if this is a visit from an old friend, sounding surprised and pleased, saying that I've come earlier this week than expected, and calls me by a name that starts "Shari-" But she cuts off partway through that name, and gives the impression of focusing on me, though still not with her eyes. She says then, "Isfael? Is that you?"

      The observer side of me splits off, recognizing that this Lady and Shari-whoever are figures that often appear in stories together under various identities. When she correctly called me Isfael, I realized that Isfael is one of those identities, a specific young version of Shari-whoever without knowledge of his older self.
    7. Books and Books

      by , 04-09-2015 at 09:25 PM
      Morning of April 9, 2015. Thursday.



      Not much occurs in this dream. My family and I are living back on Gellibrand Street in Clayfield (Brisbane area) where we have not been in years.

      In my dream, the main rooms of the apartment (first bedroom, second bedroom, and kitchen) are duplicated (all but the porch, which remains in the middle) and mirrored so that there are seven rooms. This makes the additional kitchen the main entrance, I think. I do not really consider this oddity of layout. I am in the process of going through things to see if the house can be arranged better. The large sliding door cupboard we have (originally designed for an office and very heavy) is near the doorway of the original kitchen. I notice that over half of the books are large telephone books from different years. About half of those are for Sarasota, Florida and the other half for Brisbane (Australia) suburbs. I am a bit annoyed about the space they are taking up and plan on getting rid of them, but I do not focus on doing so at the time.

      There is also something about finding crossword puzzles for my second-youngest son, but that idea does not really seem that feasible as I look at a few different ones, as I seem to realize that solving crosswords is not really educational (relative to critical thinking skills) and in fact, rather pointless, though not as pointless as the “find a word” puzzles (and all their variations of titular names), which I also notice now and then in some magazines, which are not even puzzles and where you just look at words within random letter patterns and circle them. I mostly just look around at random books and magazines. Some of the writing is rather sparse on some pages and not quite discernible.

      One book I pick up has a comic-strip-like sequence of small photographs near the top of the page, mostly only of the back halves of various breeds of dogs (but from the side, all facing to the left). I continue to think about what books we can sell or give away (or just throw out). Perhaps it is a play on “Dog Tales (tails)”. I had just seen a rather odd section of a television show in real life (Dr. Harry), where it showed a large dog jumping up and humping someone’s leg and the commentary was something about the dog not being playful, but intending to show dominance (probably one of the strangest and more “Captain Obvious” things I have seen on that show).

      Another book actually seems to be a virtual baby in two-dimensional form (though about several months old), though probably at 2:1 scale relative to the imagery on the pages. How the baby is - relating to its status, mood, or health, depends on what pages you turn in what order, I think - am not sure if there is an index or table of contents relative to this. There are several pages that just show the stomach which may represent various stages of breathing or to signify weight. The book does not make noise and seems to be on glossy paper (probably only about forty pages in all). Perhaps it is a play on “The Baby Book” (in this case, the baby being the book).

      There are other unusual books with unusual features but I do not recall everything. Some of this may relate to reading about Charlton comic books recently, which were once so cheaply made, that the pages were all different sizes and with different page edges (such as straight or sawtooth-shaped edges, often mixed from page to page) as well as being of different thicknesses, sometimes almost like cloth.
      Tags: books
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    8. Strange Book Sale Upstairs in a Cathedral-like Building

      by , 03-29-2015 at 09:29 AM
      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.


      Updated 09-09-2019 at 10:32 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    9. Fragment

      by , 03-19-2015 at 12:56 AM (Keitorin's Dream Log)
      There are two ill siblings, they seem to be recovering but then the girl relapses and starts fading away.

      The younger boy is left and is depressed. I find him in a room looking for a book on knives. I go through the cooking books on the shelf and find the only one, but it’s a technical one and I keep stumbling over my words. The boy is unhappy and leaves.

      Everything else is too foggy to remember, except this part where I went to the bathroom at my grandma’s house and saw myself in the mirror on the back of a door. I tried to remember if that’s where it was supposed to be. A tiger was peering at me from under the door…

      Inspiration: Reading the Tower of God webtoon with Baam and Rachel, her disappearing on him. Mirror from me thinking about the TotM and what mirrors were around places I go. Tiger comes from a cat toy Jazzy has, I sometimes hang it from the window so she can play with it.

      Updated 03-22-2015 at 03:43 AM by 20026 (Remembered an inspiration.)

      Categories
      non-lucid , dream fragment , side notes
    10. Fragments, transportation failure

      by , 03-14-2015 at 07:47 PM (Keitorin's Dream Log)
      1. Something disturbs me, and I get up and go look out my bedroom door just as someone comes in and passes me by. I see nothing out in the hall and turn back to look at the person – but there’s no one there.

      Then I realized that I was awake. I don’t know if the whole thing was sleepwalking or if some part of it was a dream.

      Inspiration: Probably from my door creaking because of the wind and me being paranoid.

      2. Editing Kyou Kara Maou! on Goodreads.

      Inspiration: Was thinking about how the KKM! light novels weren’t in the MyAnimeList database and wondered about Goodreads.

      3. Me and Rane follow someone into a waiting room of sorts. I’m wearing a long skirt and a sleeveless, light blue denim shirt I think. I lean against the wall as Rane sits down. She pats the seat to her right, the only one of the four along that wall that’s available, and I go sit down.

      I overhear someone talking across from us, something about a young girl (around 16) being engaged, and I see she’s obviously not ready for it and shake my head mentally. She had dirty blond hair in a ponytail.

      Then a dog comes up to me and I greet it like I’m familiar with it. Only it turns away when I try to pet it. But then I see another dog and think that must be the one I know. There’s another, bigger dog as well, and I decide to just pretend to ignore them and let them get to know me at their own pace. They’re all brown-haired, two are coarse-haired and one is long-haired (the bigger one). The last one comes over and smells my hands in my lap and I let it without moving. When I think it’s okay, I move them to pet the dog but it moves away.

      Now we’re standing at the door out talking to the man we came with. He’s asking us what food we want and gives us two options. The conversation is a bit vague, but Rane decides she doesn’t want the one, but instead ‘Cesserian food’. Mentally I’m a bit ‘hmmm’ because I don’t know if I’ll like it.

      Jump.

      I’m in a room where someone is cleaning up stuff, there are papers with things written on them lying around and I realize some of it might be important. I go over and grab my dream journal and a clipboard with papers on it.

      I’m in a bathroom that looks like the downstairs one IWL. I need to go but it’s totally clogged/gross and the seat is broke. I try to flush it but it doesn’t take care of it fully. I decide to try another one.

      As I’m heading upstairs, I decide to go the bathroom up here; I know it’s always clean.

      Jump.

      The man had given me some kind of item that was supposed to be a convenient way to transport yourself around.

      I was scrubbing at this pillow with a rag or something until I thought the area was big enough to use. Then I pressed myself down onto it and waited to be transported. …But nothing happened. (I was expecting to sink down into it and reappear somewhere else.)

      I remember getting frustrated before because I dribbled water down a little black and white notebook with words on the pages.

      I was annoyed and went to tell mom about it. She told me a bit about how it was supposed to work, and that you can get a marker that works for 2000 strokes.

      Inspirations: Thinking about going through mirrors and transporting through water. Thinking about my aunt and her husband. A mix of a story mom told me about my uncle. My aunt going into labor last night and mom leaving to go be with her made me think about waiting rooms.

      Updated 03-15-2015 at 03:43 AM by 20026

      Categories
      non-lucid , dream fragment , side notes
    11. Fragments

      by , 03-13-2015 at 04:31 PM (Keitorin's Dream Log)
      Yesterday:

      1. Editing a series of books on Goodreads.

      Inspiration: Before falling asleep I wished that I’d edited more stuff on Goodreads that day (I’m a librarian there).

      2. Signing up for Ragnarok Online. Four love interests were shown, two guys, two girls. Second woman looked like the mature type with a mix of light & dark grey hair.

      Inspiration: Saw it mentioned somewhere online.

      3. There was another character introduced, they were trans and had really long white hair.

      Inspiration: Sa-Ryun from Ability (webtoon), was editing pics of him that day and thinking of how some people thought he was a woman. I think lady from 2 inspired 3 which was inspired by Sa-Ryun.

      Notes: The last couple of nights when I wake up early with a dream, I find myself thinking about it until I fall asleep again because I don’t want to forget it (even though I’m prioritizing sleep over recall). I noticed that those dreams sometimes end up effecting my later dreams.

      Updated 03-14-2015 at 04:11 AM by 20026

      Categories
      non-lucid , dream fragment , side notes
    12. Cheek piercing panic in a bookstore

      by , 03-12-2015 at 02:08 AM (Keitorin's Dream Log)
      I’m somewhere looking through books. I pick up some and look through them, but don’t end up picking any to buy because of the prices. I’m frugal, and I mention this to someone to my left. I’m shocked when I see that one of the books is $8.

      I poke through the top of a box but it was children’s books. I saw an Aladdin book with a guy with some scruff and a woman. I wondered who they were.

      When I was looking at some eastward facing shelves, I saw something with Ed (from Fullmetal Alchemist) on it. I picked up this box and it had tortilla chips in the bottom and I snort at the ridiculousness of a ‘movie entertainment kit’ like that. They might be stale anyway, who knows when it was brought in.

      Someone calls out ‘Nice to see you again, Keitorin!’. I look around as I try to find the source before my eyes land on an older woman. I don’t recognize her at all but she knows me?

      Jump.

      I’m over by a mirror back around where I was originally looking at books. I have really long hair again and I’m trying to put it up in a ponytail, but when I gather it all up and go to get the ponytail ready, some falls and I have to try scraping it back up. I’m getting frustrated.

      A woman who seems to be in my blind spot the whole time comes up and is supposed to be helping me, but she’s doing something off to my right that I can’t figure out. All of a sudden, she does something that startles me and makes me jerk back.

      She says something. It’s blurry here, but she had pierced my cheek with a post earring! I was pretty freaked out.

      I ended up at home telling mom about it. I keep gingerly touching the outside of it with my hands. I’m having a hard time swallowing properly because it’s awkward.

      Mom doesn’t even seem that bothered! She even talks about how she and dad were thinking about getting something to eat, though we really didn’t have much money, but they were getting hungry.

      I say, “I can’t even eat because of the piercing!”. I touched the back of the earring with my tongue and jerk back, because it hurts and saliva is gathered up in my mouth.

      Inspirations: Aladdin thing from a fanart I saw of characters from The Book of Life. Chips from me having some recently. I wonder if the two dreams with mirrors in them I've had are because I've been reading people's TOTM dreams with them? Piercing might be because I tried to put my ear piercings back in but it messed my ears up.
    13. Hong Kong Apartment + Trail of Smoke (DILDs + FAs)

      by , 03-08-2015 at 08:03 PM
      Ritual: WTB 12:30am, woke 7:30 with first DILD. No techniques, hadn't really intended to get lucid, but I was wearing a Jawbone fitness tracker on my wrist to bed for the first time. It's a bit tight and I think the unfamiliar sensation served as an anchor for consciousness.

      DILD (eventually), "Hong Kong Apartment": I am in Hong Kong with my husband, staying in the apartment of someone unknown to me. I'm curious who this guy is and why we're at his place, so I'm attentive to my surroundings. It is a one-bedroom apartment and the layout feels familiar; I figure it must be a common floorplan here. The first thing I remember is being in a small room of unclear function, a study maybe, and looking at a plaque on the wall. It depicts a Chinese character, the archaic version of that character, and the pinyin transliteration: sōng, corresponding to the English word "page"—not the leaf of a book but the job title. From this I suppose that the young man who lives here must be serving as a page in the Hong Kong government, in the same way that there are pages in the US Congress.

      My husband is talking to me, and I'm vaguely following his words but not entirely sure what he's going on about. I'm still trying to figure out why we're here: does my husband know the guy who owns this place, or is this some kind of Airbnb arrangement? Meanwhile I'm trying to wrap an enormous porkchop—the size of a prime rib steak—that I have for some reason. It is fully grilled but no one has eaten it yet, and I'm not hungry now so I want to put it away. It had been wrapped in butcher's paper but I'm having trouble re-wrapping it, and this distracts my attention for some time as I end up having to use a piece of foil to supplement the paper where it is torn. As I finally wrap the porkchop successfully and go to put it in the fridge, I see that there is fresh lettuce in the fridge, and I've also noticed dirty plates on the counter. I had assumed the apartment's owner was letting us stay because he was away somewhere, but these details make me think he must be currently living here and could walk in at any moment.

      I know my husband needs to leave for some meeting or event, and our conversation is delaying his departure, so finally I say in exasperation, "Get out of here already!" Right after he goes out the door, I worry that he might have misunderstood my tone of voice and thought I was angry, so I opened the door and called after his retreating form, "I didn't mean to speak harshly." Meanwhile a girl with short, curly blonde hair is walking from right to left in front of the apartment, and I think she might be someone he had just been referring to—at the time I even recalled her name, something with the initials "J.S."—so I gaze at her curiously. She looks back at me with the self-conscious but indifferent air of someone wondering why a stranger is staring at them. It seems like it would be awkward to start a conversation so I go back inside.

      Alone in the apartment, I look around at the decor. There are a lot of hand-carved wooden animal figures, and they remind me of a set that I bought in a museum shortly before Christmas, but couldn't figure out who to give them to. They seem to match this guy's tastes... maybe I should give them to him, in thanks for the loan of his apartment. It seems like a nice gesture so I plan on it. In the center of the main room, which has an open floor plan connected with the kitchenette, is a wide square column that is hollow inside to serve as storage space. I note with interest that there are a number of oversized books here. One of them is at least four feet tall, and the title on the spine reads Disney as Orientalism, accompanied by some Disney-style graphics. I make a mental note that later I'll want to pull that one out and flip through it. It's so big it won't fit on a table—I'll have to do this on the floor! It is the largest of the books in this closet, but none of them are small. Several others are about three feet tall with matching red covers, and I see that one of them is about Shanghai. Books of this size must have cost a fortune... this guy must be doing well here. I wonder if it would be rude to read his books without asking permission first, but figure there's no harm in it.

      I wonder how I'll explain my presence if this guy shows up while I'm here by myself, since I'm still not clear on who he exactly is or why I'm at his apartment. In fact, this question starts to bother me, because it seems like I should have a better explanation. Of course, it's always possible that I'm dreaming, but... I want to discount this at first, since it seems to contradict what I'm experiencing from this environment. It is so detailed, lifelike, and stable, it really doesn't feel like a dream. But I make myself take the time to think this over more carefully: if I am actually dreaming, that would explain a lot, like why I had a porkchop, something I almost never eat, and the difficulty I had wrapping it. It would explain why I am in Hong Kong with no idea why I am here, and why I find myself in the apartment of a guy I don't even know. I don't use any techniques to RC, I just think it over and gradually recognize the illusory nature of my surroundings: indeed I am dreaming!

      So now what? Normally I would apply myself to some task or other, but I had specifically made a point not to do so this time, if I got lucid, because I'm facing too much work today to spend hours writing up my report. So my plan was not to do anything specific, but simply to contemplate and enjoy the dream environment. (For some reason I had the idea that this would save me time writing things up later, although that is proving not to be the case!) I walk toward the back wall of the apartment, which is completely transparent, and look outside. It is still night, but there is a well-lit open-air bar just below, with a stream running behind it. There are a surprising number of people down there, and all seem to be relaxed and enjoying themselves, like guests at a resort. I sit down to watch the scene, while thinking back over what I've just experienced. I'm still impressed by how detailed and stable this dream was. For instance, that Chinese character on the wall—it was so clearly articulated, even though I don't think it was one I've ever seen before, and I strongly doubt it's even a real one. I wished I had looked at it more carefully, and focus on reviving the mental image. I think can remember the top elements of the modern version of the character, but I'm vague about what composed the bottom, which was complex, and I had not studied it closely at the time. The archaic version was simpler, and I can remember it much more distinctly. Concentrating on this inadvertently wakes me up.

      Interlude: After writing the above account and going back to bed at 8:45am, I certainly didn't intend to get lucid again, given that I've already spent a lot of time writing when I should be working, but I never want to rule it out. I ended up having several FAs, the later ones bringing on a very long bout of lucidity, in which I just wandered around exploring rather than working on specific tasks. There would still be a lot to write up but given time constraints I'll have to keep it brief. Woke for the day at 10:15.

      FA: I was in the bathroom thinking that I should make a more consistent effort to recognize those little discrepancies that might make me notice I'm dreaming, like I did in the last dream, without realizing that I was actually dreaming at that very moment.

      FA/DILD, "Trail of Smoke": I hovered for a long time on the border between sleep and waking and enjoyed observing its ambiguities. For instance, there was a point where I was convinced I was immersed in dream visuals but hearing everything perfectly accurately from waking life (I was probably wrong about this). I caught at least one FA and was pleased after my failure to catch the last one. Then a long dream followed where I was basically lucid the whole time, but also knew I wouldn't have time to write it up in much detail, so only certain episodes that were especially interesting stand out clearly in my memory. I really can't take the time to include them all here, but the last scene was worth mentioning:

      I am wandering through a dream environment typical for me, a labyrinthine enclosed public space, and having just seen someone smoking on a magazine cover, I now find myself smoking a cigarette. The smoke doesn't dissipate completely but lingers faintly in the air along the path I have walked, like that memorable scene from Donnie Darko (2001). It looks like I could potentially trace back the smoke and rediscover all the places I have visited in the course of this long dream. This makes me wonder: how big is the dream world? And the answer seems obvious: there are no boundaries, it is as big as mind itself. Standing in that world even as I recognize its boundlessness, I feel a sense of awe.

      I gaze at the glimmering smoke trails and murmur, "All the places I've been are like a trail of smoke that follows me."

      Updated 03-12-2015 at 07:59 AM by 34973

      Categories
      lucid , non-lucid , false awakening , memorable
    14. Secret werewolf files

      by , 03-06-2015 at 01:23 AM (Keitorin's Dream Log)
      -Forgotten fragment that I didn’t write down because it didn’t make enough concrete sense too. Really annoying when that happens.

      -We’re at a woman’s house, standing in a room. I’m to her right. For some reason I know her secret - she’s a werewolf. She sneaks a look at me and mouths something, something that’s part of her secret. I think she’s telling me where something is, some keys or something. I wonder if it’s near a full moon, if it’s affecting her.

      I’m in another room with the woman and another person and we’re looking through some kind of history or genealogy book. In the front, it has really thin pages width-wise and are made of different material, and normal length and paper after that. We’re flipping through it and are excited to see a couple of familiar names, but we turn to one that means something to the third person in the room. Romano Romaine.

      There was another name before that that I recognized but I forgot it.

      Jump.

      I’m playing with a small toy house with a little girl. We end up taking it apart and I have to figure out how to put it back together by myself because she falls asleep. I’m bad at this stuff so I’m worried I’ll get in trouble.

      Jump.

      I’m in a room looking over at Spice on some kind of balcony room, he’s on the other side of a clear door and I talk to him.

      Jump…

      In yet another room, mom gets on the woman’s computer. The woman is standing in the room too but she’s not moving or look at us in particular.

      Mom shows me a zip drive and asks me a question with her eyes. I know she’s asking whether or not to download something from the woman’s computer (her secret). I gave a real decisive answer by shaking my head both yes and no (lolol).

      She puts the zip drive into the computer and a folder opens up full of other folders (about four rows). One is labeled ‘Sarah’. I guess that if the woman gets suspicious, mom can easily show that she’s just looking through her own stuff.
    15. Reaching for illusions

      by , 03-03-2015 at 11:16 PM
      I'm seeking a book, something that I think of as 'a way out.' To retrieve it I'm drifting through a cloud of abstracts that sometimes resolve themselves into words floating in the cloud. They're dream images, illusions, but grasping the illusionary versions of this book will gradually lead me to the real thing. But they're difficult to capture - it's like trying to scoop up something small floating on water, if you're not careful the water will carry it right out of your hand again. It takes patience and deliberation and allowing the words to drift into my grasp.

      I take hold of one word, feeling the substance of it. This changes the images that are drifting around me - now they're closer to the subject of that word, closer to what I'm seeking, and many of them are in the form of books rather than individual words. I repeat this process, releasing the word I had a hold of and reaching for the first relevant image that drifts into my grasp, and every time I repeat this process there are less individual words and more books, and the images displayed on the covers of the books become more and more relevant.

      Now many of the books show images of a demonic face, which is heading in the right direction, but which also has drawn attention. A man I'm familiar with begins speaking with me, a demon or something close enough - I've forgotten the content of this one-sided conversation except that it was about that book I'm searching for. Our surroundings have gotten more solid by this point, and as I move through the cloud I find wooden steps under my feet.

      I come up the steps into a room full of books piled haphazardly on wooden tables. There's a young human woman here looking through the books - long dark hair, blue jeans and white t-shirt, I recognize her as someone who has a history with that demon I've been speaking with. Her name's Dawn. Their interactions are familiar but antagonistic - she once struggled with him and lost, though I'm not sure she's realized she's lost yet. In any case, she came to him to search for something, but she failed and became trapped in a dream. It seems she's still searching for whatever it is. I find that sad to watch. She looks at the demon as he climbs up the stairs behind me - or I assume she does; I haven't seen him, he's just a voice to me, but she's looking right through me and to the place I believe he would be. In annoyance at his presence, she moves to another stack of books, further away. The demon sounds amused as he calls to her.


      It occurs to me as I watch her that I've been consciously thinking of this as a dream for some time now. Since it seems she can't see me, I decide to step aside and watch the two of them. I settle down on a white couch out of the way and allow my perspective to change slightly. I can see the demon now, and Dawn's appearance has changed as well, both of them now dressed from the late 1700s, France - their hairstyles and clothes are looking rough, as if they started out with a fine presentation but over time the polished image has fallen apart. He's struck up a conversation, and eventually she says to him, "The doctor warns that (something to do with a slow death), and my minutes are done." She sounds defiantly happy about this, as if it's a kind of victory over the demon.

      Updated 03-04-2015 at 01:08 AM by 64691

      Categories
      lucid
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