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Really potent dream state. I had been drinking at a party that night, but I had still never experienced dreaming quite like this, alcohol or no. There was no REM rebound either, dreaming began almost immediately.

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Lying back into the hammock, still a little intoxicated from the party, I begin to drift into sleep. I am in a room off to the side with some other people who have turned in for the night, while in the lounge room a small group of party-goers keep going strong. My eyes shut, the music doesn't bother me.

I am flying over a fantastical modern city. Huge buildings stretch up into the sky, incredibly detailed. The way my three dimensional perspective shifts is incredibly realistic. As I have experienced before, the movement itself causes the visuals to solidify rapidly.

I am wandering through this dreamworld. I find myself in a penthouse apartment of sorts. There are many well-dressed, influential people here. Some hold glasses of champagne, others speak in hushed tones. It seems that there is an event of some description on. The rooms are vast and the decor minimalist. I am definitely amongst the upper echelon of society, but there are distinct underworld currents here and powerful ones at that. Women in stunning dresses sip at cocktails, a man deals cards at a table, and there are people coming and going from an oriental meeting room. I try to peer inside but the security is eyeing me suspiciously.

I wander into a side room. There are people here being 'sold' for exorbitant amounts of money, but they are all very keen to be here. There's roughly half a dozen of them, dressed in white robes, male and female and all glamourously beautiful. They aren't slaves or prostitutes as such, more like high-status consorts whose loyalty is bought, trophies to be displayed. There are a few people bidding here. By entering the room, I have unwittingly entered myself in the auction, but I am not at all dressed or prepared for such an event. A price is named for me. It is low compared to the others, but still in figures that I could not expect to see in my lifetime.

A pixie-eyed man, one of the actual party-goers from the waking world, leans over and speaks to me.
"Not bad at all, but I will attract a much higher sum."
He did, of course. He wasn't gloating so much as stating fact, this was their profession.
"What other purpose is there to life than to be as beautiful and glamourous as possible?" He believed that it only made sense for everyone to aspire to this ideal.

It was then that I had a 'false awakening' in the apartment. I get out of the hammock and stagger into the lounge room. The party-goers are still up, awake and energetic, but very aware that they are dreaming.
"This is what we do," the pixie-eyed man explained. "We go out exploring this world at night. We thought that as you were here, we would try to wake you up as well."
It had worked for me, but all the others who had turned in early were still sleeping in the room I had left. They were too deeply asleep to be pulled into the dream.

They began to explain that they went by aliases while dreaming to protect their physical identities. It made sense to me, except that the pixie-eyed man had been making quite the name for himself as a rogue lucid-awakener by the name 'Anderson'. I got the Matrix reference. It seemed he had been pulling a lot of people into his dream adventures recently. I recalled seeing his name at an earlier time, somewhere in another dream, and warned him to be careful.

It was too late. Eyes were already upon him and his group. An illuminati-style organisation had taken interest in his activities and decided to put a stop to them. Their methods involved misleading and blinding individuals with familiar glamours. They wouldn't even know that they had been restricted to only existing within their own personal dreamworlds.

We had to flee, running out into the corridors. Desperately trying to escape the clutch of our pursuers. The party was split, we were forced to break up into smaller groups and head out into different directions. But we kept getting lost, funnelled only down the paths that the organisation dictated. And then we would awake again in that lounge room. Lights off, only two of us this time. We'd look at each other and run out into the hallways. Awakened again, this time a couple of others. We were all confused, scared, frightened. Awake again, and again, and then I opened my eyes.

I was physically awake this time, lying in the hammock. The very people I had been dreaming about were in the lounge room outside, dancing and doing shots. But I could't hold onto my waking awareness and fell back beneath the waves. Awake again, same lounge room, but this time I was alone.
I ran out into the hallway, none from the group in sight. I followed the paths through the building desperately, and finally this time I came to a location I had not seen before. The hall curved around into a room with an alcove and a tall window looking out over the cloud-shrouded buildings beyond. The city I had seen as I flew over it at the beginning of my journey.

I stopped, looking out over the breath-taking view. I became aware of two figures that had been waiting here. One was a man, silent, clothed and hooded in black robes. I had a sensation of knowing him, a name; the Angel. The other was a man in a simple work suit. He was from the organisation, or at least knew of my predicament. It appeared they had been speaking before my arrival. The man from the organisation approached me and began to converse with me. He explained that given the circumstances, I would be free to go.

The dream shifted and time was lost. I found myself walking through a busy train station. There were escalators and shops, commuters going to and from platforms. I wandered around, perhaps keeping an eye out for anyone I may know, but I needed no goods or transport.

This feels like only the beginning of a story arc. I'm going to tell this dream in two parts, the first was a dream from my adolescent journal, the second was from adulthood. I never had much interest at all in samurai and Japanese maritime culture, as I've mentioned in my other journals, and yet this theme keeps returning with vengeance. I'm always sabotaging the plans of aliens I meet as well, benevolent and malevolent alike.

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Dream #1 - May 2008

The beginnings of the dream are blurred. I was running. I don't know why and I don't know where I was going. A few other escapees fled with me. It was important that they didn't see us. I knew it would only be minutes before they appeared. We arrived at the river bank in my home town. Perfect, this was my turf, I knew how to blend in. It was as my friend as me where we should go, when a group of our pursuers appeared from around a corner. One of them was dressed in the armour of a samurai, but I somehow doubted that that's what he truly was. Despite the fact that we were enemies, I couldn't help sensing that we had a mutual understanding of each other. I was worried that could play to my disadvantage, but luckily they did not see us.

The dream shifted and I was a soldier fighting an uphill battle. Neither side was gaining ground and we were both gradually losing troops. We managed to take the school on the hill top which was overlooking the ocean and the enemy's home islands. A flying saucer sat silently nearby. I entered to find a man I knew well. He was one of our enemies and despite claiming that he wanted peace, he was only after victory. He told me that he was going to take any people who wanted to leave to his land where they would have a much better life. I didn't believe him and quickly left.

I walked through the environment until suddenly I realised that the Samurai was behind me. We both drew our swords, prepared to fight, and the battle began. I had trained hard for this but his skills were incredible. He was fast but strong and could predict my moves before I made them. I could barely defend myself from his blows. I decided to use my ability, and suddenly turned invisible. Even though he could not see me, he still managed to block every single one of my attacks all while lecturing me on 'fighting dirty'. I kept up the barrage without success.

It was then that he brought his leg up and attempted to kick me in the stomach. He knew that if I bled I couldn't remain invisible! He kicked at me again and again until eventually I flinched long enough for him to draw his dagger and plunge it into my side. The invisibility fell. I removed the dagger and broke into a run, realising that I couldn't win. I dashed up an embankment, turning invisible again in an attempt to flee.
"So predictable," I heard him say aloud as he followed. I looked down at my hands and realised that the invisibility was no longer working. I reached the top of the embankment and climbed up onto a balcony, hoping he would run past below and I would be able to slip away, but he knew exactly where I was. He stood beneath me and looked up. I expected him to continue his attack, but he stopped, nodded in acknowledgement, and then walked away.

I ran back to the alien saucer and slipped into the control room. The man's plans were the crash the ship into the school with dozens of my own people aboard. I changed its pre-flight path to the enemy island and ran into the cabin to drag my friends off this suicide ship. When I told them what I knew they didn't believe me. I could hear the countdown in the background and they still refused to move, so I pushed them off. I pulled the man into a headlock and leapt off the saucer as it rose into the air and promptly smashed into the island. My people cheered, but in all the confusion, the man had escaped again.

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Remember the Japanese whaling ships from the Temple of Apollo and the small dream-town in Tasmania? It gets relevant.

Dream 2 - November 2015

I was in a darkened building with many others. The dream was hazy and indistinct, and then suddenly I realised that I was in a single room alone and the visuals became very crisp and focused. This whole house was mine. The room was empty, but the moments sitting in silence without distractions fixed my cohesion. I was aware that people may be able to see me through the huge windows. I went to close the blinds, but then changed my mind, and pushed out through the doors. The call to adventure was answered.

I was living opposite the city cemetery. It was night time, but I could see clearly. I wandered the dream world for a while, speaking to my friends and investigating the detailed houses that lined the street. As I wandered, I eventually came to a sunlit park full of people. Some wandered the paths and some sat on the benches, enjoying the beautiful weather.

The dream transitioned while I was here. I found myself on a steep, grassy hillside and knew instantly that I have been moved. I tried to right myself and teleport back, but I could not change location. I looked up towards the top of the bluff. A samurai was waiting for me. I walked up to him, and he turned around in silence, leading me over the crest of the hill. On the cliff-side above us were vast rock paintings left here from a previous civilisation. There were humans mingling with winged bird-like creatures. They reminded me of djinn from Sumerian mythology. I looked around, amazed at the vividness of my surroundings.

The samurai led along the bluff until a small Japanese town came into view. It is nestled along the coast line, a fishing village. There were a few high-rise buildings constructed out of bamboo and light materials. I asked him what one of the buildings was for and he said that it was a place for doctors. I could see people awakening on Japanese-style futons within the rooms, and others receiving massage treatment from practitioners. I did not know much about their culture, but felt blessed to have such an excellent guide. He took me down into the town. We passed by the open doorways of peoples' homes. The townsfolk here were all wary of me. I stopped in the middle of a complex of washing lines, quite content with the idea of living here and becoming a part of the town. Sheets billow in the breeze, suspended all around me. I am introduced to a wise old man, who speaks with the samurai, and a strangely familiar male youth comes out to join us.

The dream fades and changes. One rather mundane dream in between I have omitted. I wish it had all ended there, and not in the way it does. I am on an airport runway, walking back to the terminal. My family is here, but they are like puppets; intangible, not at all right. They don't fit in with the scene. It is more solid than they are. They rush ahead, and then return, changing my direction.
"We're going the wrong way," I say.
"No, no. We are going to get on this plane," they say as a single unit. I start following them, but become so sluggish. Movement is so difficult. I am drained of energy, my feet begin to drag, my speech is slurred. One of the flight assistants opens the tape so I may step past. My family were faders in comparison and I cannot see them now. I try to say something, but I am so groggy, and fall away fatigued. My energy is gone. I have been fooled, but am not even allowed to see the face of my attacker.

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Dream 3 - December 2015

Only a fragment from a larger, hazy dream. My friends invited me to their cabins, but I arrive and realise it was only a gesture and that they weren't really interested in spending time with me. I leave and along my way, I encounter the Samurai again. This dream is not like the others. It is not vivid, and feels more like a normal subconscious dream. A montage plays out. I am male, and have been training with him for many months. I have been wearing heavy armour that he bestowed upon me throughout our training. It looks very fierce, with spikes lining the leg guards and pauldrons. It is impractical and actually inhibits my abilities, but I persist. My talents develop, and when I eventually remove the armour, I am stronger than ever.

I am myself again. We are walking down a street together in silence.
'I am dreaming!' I suddenly think to myself excitedly, but the dream is too hazy and unstable, and it is lost.

A very vivid dream with high continuity. My dreaming personality is a little more extravagant and dramatic than my waking personality. I also have a nice little freak-out when I forget that in a dream, people communicate telepathically/empathically. Weirdly enough, it is only when I type this entry up six months later that I realise that the family at the end are very familiar.

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I was in a large, detailed town. The landscape was shaped like a bubble, with the edges of the town curving up towards the sky as though it were situated within a basin. The town proper was quite dense and centralised, comprised of public buildings and several private homes. Apartment complexes stretched up the far side of the basin on the outskirts of the town. I had a home here, several levels tall. I shared it with room mates. Behind my home were several statelier buildings and quiet winding streets.

My recall begins in my bedroom on the top floor. The town is sunny and pleasant, but I am routinely aware of a presence observing me through one of the windows. When I look out, my vision zooms to a location on the other side of the town. I see a shadow shift on a ledge as someone leaves the area, but I am not fast enough to catch a glimpse of my observer.

I walk out onto my balcony. It overlooks a public sports oval. There is a crowd gathered there, some of their number are wearing costumes. They are rehearsing for an event the next day where many would come to revel in their self-pity and cling to their vices. They were a harmless lot, ultimately likeable, but foolish. For many years I had known them well, and counted myself as one of them, but no longer.

I return inside. I am with a small group of my friends, none of whom I know in the waking world. They are all male and dressed in Victorian-era clothing. They seem taken aback when I announce that I will not be joining the festivities this year.
"Tomorrow, I will be out on my balcony, smoking. If anyone should care to join me, then they would be most welcome," I say, taking a puff from my cigar. One of the younger gentlemen piped up in response.
"Smoking? Whatever for?"
"For grandeur." I declare. They chuckle. My closest friend is sitting beside me. He shakes his head at me, but laughs all the same.

I go outside onto a lower balcony with him. The evening air is enlivening. I get a better look at him now that we are alone. He is a spritely, middle-aged man with a grand moustache and a quick wit. He is always impeccable dressed, but never too extravagant. He sits in silence, drawing from a large, glowing cigar.
"I'm going to miss these, you know," I say to him, fondly lighting a cigar of my own.
I look out across the town. The lights are off in the apartments across the basin, but the town below is still full of life.

I find myself down in the town proper. Three single-levelled buildings are arranged around a common square. The left-most structure is the workshop of a local artist and jewellery designer. She has wicked red hair, and a strong but gentle presence. I notice a young girl smoking cigarettes and dawdling around her building. When the girl finished smoking, the artist burst from her workshop and berated the girl for the lingering smell.

I had known better, but it struck me as odd that I had already known without being told. I walk around the side of the building. One of my teachers approaches, a wise woman, well-revered by the town. I addressed my concern to her in regards to my own foresight. I was so shocked that I could know what somebody had been thinking without interacting with them. The artist was passing by as I was speaking, and stopped out of curiosity. I had asked the wise woman many questions in the past, but this one surprised her. They exchanged a curious glance, and then looked back at me, puzzled. I felt that it wasn't my experience that they found bizarre, but why now I should fail to understand it.

I was going somewhere. I would lose something.

"We should sit over there and have a smoke," a youthful friend suggested to me. I had been deep in thought. We were in a large hall with others, waiting for the rain to pass. Night had fallen and I had been gazing out the great, vast windows before me. This was a familiar place.
"They're covered in water," a female friend replied. She was right. A few benches were situated on the wooden verandah outside. It artistically swept around the extended wings of the house. But for all its clever design, the walkway did not extend far enough and the eaves were too shallow; rain water dripped down onto the benches.

I returned home, sharing a few friendly words with my house mates. I proceeded upstairs to my hammock. I was uneasy about the open window through which I could be viewed, but was relieved to find it had already been closed and the blind pulled down.

The dream shifts, and I am on the rear-most carriage of a speeding train, right where I expected to be. I had caught this train many times before, and even had a good rapport with the rear guard. I rushed to the back of the train. Below the raised platform where the guard would sit, there was a thick, steel archway with a blue, metal door. It served little purpose other than my own.

I was reaching my end, somehow content with my own undoing. I had known this was coming for a while, and now the time had come to the face the music. I began to speak, a conversation I can hardly remember.
"We all come to our end eventually, don't we?" I say.
"What do you mean?" the guard replied from above. I rushed behind the door and fastened it behind me. The train was picking up speed, but I wanted to delay my moment of passing for just a few minutes longer.
"We degrade, don't we? It's a natural process. Why should we fight it? Would it not be more logical to embrace this demise?" I continued my rhetoric. I had already resolved that it would be this way, and chosen this place because it would quicken the process. Despite my verbose monologuing, my stomach still sank when I began to see the effects unfolding before me.

I held out my left arm and rolled back the sleeve. It was fading away, turning bony and pale, but also ethereal; shrinking and vanishing before my eyes. I tried to remove my watch, but it too was disappearing and hanging limply around my skeletal wrist.
"Surely it would be better not to fight it, don't you think?" I asked to my final witness, captivated by the sight before me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said," the guard replied. I was snapped from my self-indulgent trance. The wind was roaring, but the guard's ears were keen. They heard every one of my final words, knew in their heart that I was misguided, and would feign deafness now rather than extend advice. My ego was inflamed.

We were slowing past a station. I deftly rolled from the train and skidded for some metres before coming to a stop near a family of three waiting patiently with their luggage. The train slowed to a halt beside me, the guard and driver both now in the engine. The guard, while distinctly the same person, was now a young female with straight brown hair. I stood up and marched over to them in rage.
"Fuck you, you piece of shit!" I screamed. They seemed rather unfazed.
Though still angry, the next few moments were filled with remorse for my behaviour. I felt compelled to apologise to the mundane folk - a rotund man and his wife - for shouting obscenities in front of their son.