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    1. Flat Flute Festival, The Diner, Disarming Paranoia, and The Purple Leviathan

      by , 01-06-2021 at 07:54 AM (Oneironautic Escapades)
      1/5/20

      I am on my way driving to some church event with people I recognize from my past. While driving I spray paint face with blues and oranges with a white streak down one side going through my eye. My cat is in my car with me, when I arrive I leave her in the car with the windows cracked a little. We are all standing in lines for some reason I am unaware of. Someone is talking to us in a preachy manner but the details escape me.

      The scene shifts into a new age festival of sorts with many sellers operating booths and with various items on tables in rows. The room is a long flat one story building, with tables lining either side, and windows every few feet. It almost feels like an opened up double wide manufactured home which is several lengths long.

      While walking around checking out the various vendors I notice two who share space side by sides. I befriend the two of them and notice they look strikingly similar to one another with slight differences. They are both round faced with round noses, bald heads and beards about the same length. Though their personalities are obviously of different tones. One of them sells flat flutes which seem like wooden Christmas tree ornaments with spacers and holes drilled at intervals as a flute should be, and one sells didgeridoos with original poems printed on fancy paper.

      They both have just met each other for this event but they are very similar in demeanour, though each unique. Like twins who took separate life trajectories. I play a flute from his table for a while, it sounds like a native american flute and any note progression is harmonious and effortless to produce. There is a girl who walks up to the table hearing the flute and wants to try it but she is shy. I encourage her to go for it, it is a beautiful instrument and incredibly easy to play. Whatever you play on the flute sounds great, she picks it up and plays for a few seconds. It sounds just as good as when I played, she is pleased. I want a flute, the guy attempts to sell me one but don't have a lot of money on me, the didge guy also wants me to buy one from him. I tell him I have three of my own at home waiting for me. He tells me to sell the ones I don't use and use the surplus to purchase another one from him. I laugh and say maybe.

      I am concerned about leaving the cat in the car even though the window is cracked. It is a sunny day and I'm incredibly cautious about animals in cars. I go back out to get her and bring her back inside with me. When I return, the festival seems to have turned into a waffle house type diner. It is packed out and everyone is hungry. There are full counter seats and tons of people packed in the booths around the place. I see the open kitchen with one cook struggling to take people's orders and cook the food at the same time. I consider jumping behind the counter to help cook. Though he does seem to have it under control so I decide against it and just wander around looking at people, everyone is calm and patient, feels like people are just grateful to be fed. The cat has befriended some people and become kind of a fixture in the diner. She sits on a stool by the counter and people pet her while walking by/waiting. People continue ordering and eating until the night comes.


      I notice while standing outside there is a large military supply surplus store that used to be on the corner across the street. The new location looks newer and brightly lit like a pharmacy. I talk to someone standing close to me about going in and taking a looking around. Though I am slightly concerned if I do so I will be put on some government list of nationalists.

      As fewer and fewer people are present we become a closer knit group. We are all friends now and we know each other quite well from our stories. One of us is cautious because he is wanted by a rival gang he knows may be coming for him. The lights get dim as we all sit around each other and chat on the floor. The restaurant is closed and it's just us friends communing now telling stories and laughing. The one friend is still very paranoid about other people coming after him, looking out the window as he expects it to happen any minute. He has a handgun on him and begins waving it around claiming they are coming, they are outside now he shouts. I know nothing good can come from escalating the situation so I take the pistol from his hand in a swift action and put it in my jacket pocket, he is dismayed but compliant.

      Someone else walks in the room and they are looking for him, they also have a gun in their hand. I immediately demand they give it to me because this is not the way to solve this dispute. They also comply. I disassemble the gun in seconds, dropping the clip, pulling back the slide, popping out the bullet in the chamber, and taking the slide fully off. This continues a couple more times as people come in trying to start trouble with firearms and me immediately disarming them before anything transpires. They then just stand around and have conversation with the others that are here. I now have 3-4 guns in my jacket pockets and pants pockets from the different people trying to start trouble. The people just stand around and talk once they have their gun taken away. The original guy who was part of our group asks for his gun back because he is still paranoid. I have so many in my coat I don't know which one was his. So I pull it out, disassemble it in front of him and drop the pieces on the floor at his feet. His mouth is stuck open in disbelief. I walk over to a table at the end of the room and begin to take all the firearms out of my coat and put them down. Someone else walks in behind me with a fully automatic machine gun, looks like an MP5 or something. I wave them over to me and say "Come on, gotta check in!" They oblige and I take their gun away from them as well. No one escalating, no one gets hurt. I insist all disagreements be talked out in a civil manner.


      It is now the next morning. We all seem to be arranging some type of trip. I think we are even taking air travel like hot air balloons or something. While getting people oriented I walk into a back room which is larger like an industrial loading dock and has a large metal garage door attached to it. On the floor to the side is a 30 ft long dead yellow boa constrictor. It has been tied in a knot in the middle and is contorted in weird ways. There is liquid in the corner around where it lay and the smell in the room is putrid. I gather is has been dead for a while, maybe a few days to a week. I step over it walking in and back outside several times. There are a couple people out in the field behind the building we are trying to corral to leave for our trip. The guy kind of looks like john favreau, he is with his wife. They are still distant in the field but coming towards us.

      Looking up I notice a very thick purple fog rolling in from the right onto the property. I think it is in the sky at first but then notice it in front of the clouds and things around us like the fence lining the yard. It is moving like a serpent with a massive menacing motion. It is thick and pearlescent, shimmering with light and dark purples. I am with Justin Theroux and we rushedly get the people inside while watching the huge cloud get closer to the ground and come towards us. It begins whirlwinding and the wind begins to whip violently. It forms a vortex on the ground of a thick purpley haze that you cannot see through. It Incredibly large and stretches all the way into the sky. We rush inside and look for ways to combat it. In a moment we both understand that the purple gas is flammable. Just need to make a torch of some kind to toss in it, hoping that will do the trick. The room is already wrecked with glass and objects scattered about on the floor. The wind is howling loudly and the walls rock with turbulence, pictures that were hanging fall. We are running through shouting at each other for supplies that can maybe be used. I find some lighters and some small miniature baseball bats. He brings some rags and accelerant from the other room. We craft makeshift torches while squatting on the floor and I wonder if the wind is too powerful for the flame, if the torches will stay lit for us to throw them in. We run to the back of the building again out the garage door, the twister is in full rage mode. A dark purple debris filled monstrosity tears at the ground 20 meters from us, the sound is deafening.
      We light the torches together, look at each other and I shout "HERE GOES NOTHING!" We both launch the fiery bats overhead towards the center of the vortex and the dream fades.
    2. Interdimensional Bathhouse; Music Box #5

      by , 11-12-2018 at 03:15 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      I’m in what seems to be a bathhouse—a basic, no-frills rectangular room with a concrete floor, on the large side, with a number of small pools and folding screens that can be moved around. Although the setting also seemed shifty and indefinite in a more basic way—a “I had this dream early in the night” kind of way.

      Weird things are constantly happening there, strange figures materializing and disappearing again in a sort of timeless convergence - it almost seems like there's nothing outside of this place, even though in one sense I arrived here at a definite point of time - but nobody else seems aware of it. But this is normal: I hadn’t been able to see them once, but I had been through a long process—all of it, every stage. I go over it in memory: some parts of it had been unpleasant or even frightening, but there’s nothing frightening about it now that I can see the whole of it instead of just pieces. It’s familiar—it even feels like home somehow.

      I seem to have come here with two young women, and at some point—it’s very difficult to say what order things happened in in this dream—I say to one that this is a special place, that you can feel it in the atmosphere. I’m curious if she can feel it too, on some level. At some other point, perhaps earlier or perhaps later, one asks me if there’s anyone here I’m interested in romantically. I say that there is one person, but I’ve only spoken to him a couple times. And he hasn’t shown up here for a couple hundred years now—but I feel it’s best not to mention that.

      Also, at one point, one of them is arranging stuff around a pool we're going to use. There isn't enough space for two people to do it without getting in each other's way, but I don't want to just sit there, so I clean up some of the central area at the same time.

      Later on, towards morning, I have another dream. I’m now in a large house with my bouzouki instructor for a lesson. I have the impression that it’s not his house or mine—that he’s an employee here. There are interruptions to our lesson—we have to temporarily leave the house at one point and go somewhere else in a car.

      But we do make it back inside eventually, and he tells me to go get something. He gives me directions to the room and tells me to get #5, indicating approximately where in the room I’ll be able to find it.

      It’s only a few rooms away, and I make it there without difficulty. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call this house a mansion, but the room I now find myself in wouldn’t be out of place in a palace. It’s richly decorated, 18th-century style, in blue and silver. There’s another doorway on the other end, and one of the longer walls, to my left, is covered with shelves, all of which are lined with ornate silver music boxes. They’re all individually numbered, and #5 is one of the farthest to the left, about mid-way up.

      It occurs to me that people who decorate rooms like this usually don’t like other people coming in and messing with them. But, at the same time, this place has the look of an archive. It will probably be OK, then. I take the music box off the shelf. It has its number and what seems to be some notes about it carved onto the top in a rather messy handwriting.

      I open it there—but unfortunately, I can’t really remember what happened then, although the dream kept going. Before carrying it back, I notice what looks like a bone flute lying on the floor, the only thing out of place here. Perhaps a child was playing with it and left it there, I think.

      (8.11.18)
    3. The Human Flute

      by , 08-31-2017 at 09:02 AM
      Morning of August 31, 2017. Thursday.



      When I was a toddler, and as a consequence of a long journey being required to get to a hospital (from an isolated cypress swamp), I nearly died (well, I did have an NDE) from loss of blood and almost lost my left hand as the result of an accident of falling from the top of a stool (I loved to climb) across a large piece of a glass mug. However, miraculously, I fully recovered contrary to predictions made by the doctor. Somehow, my brain was wired differently and I did not even go into shock. (I also grew new neural pathways and trained myself to use my hand again, without any help, by the age of four which some had claimed is why my clarity of mind is as it is and why I always remember so many dreams from each sleeping period). Years later, people noted how my scar looked somewhat like a reversed map of Florida, the state I was born in (Zsuzsanna has a similar story, but that is one of many). It is shown partly in the image as such in a photographic flip (though it actually goes around the other side of my wrist from there). When Zsuzsanna and I met, there was also a healing process. (For example, the large hard lump in my left wrist, made up of random bone and tendon, somehow vanished after being that way since I was a toddler. Zsuzsanna’s leaking cartilage in her right knee, another lifelong condition, also no longer existed as such.)

      At any rate, in this new dream, I have some sort of smaller medical tape covering my scar in at least two pieces that are perpendicular to each other. I am somewhat puzzled, as I remember my wound but I do not fully recall its status. I seem to be near the age I am now. The tape seems to be coming off, and I am concerned that the wound flaps are not fully integrated into my arm, as parts of my arm seem to open like a purse (as had occurred in another recent dream, though in that case, it was my entire arm).

      After a time, I hear music coming out of the holes of my wound, which sounds like odd flute music but vibrating somewhat. The texture of my arm seems somewhat unusual, and it is also as if I am blowing into my scar at one point and playing it to create flute music.

      As I am dreaming this, I am awakened by Zsuzsanna - who validated that I had been snoring for awhile. This of course (and I actually did have my mouth near my wrist as such though not as fully as in my dream), along with numerous other experiences, proves to me that the belief about “not being able to dream and snore at the same time” is utter nonsense (as are most beliefs about dreams that are widely published). It may be true for some people, but certainly not for all. (In fact, most ideas about dreams are limited to perhaps only certain individuals assuming any truth at all, for example, people talk about “not remembering dreams”, yet I do all the time, each sleeping period, including hundreds of lucid hypnagogic sequences and with non-lucid dreams, my mind typically automatically decodes their meaning unless prescient.) There have been a number of dreams where my snoring provided a “soundtrack” for my dream, including childhood dreams (including one about a dinosaur, triggered by hearing my own snoring through the veil of sleep) and one as an adult about being pursued by a bear (the sound of the bear being my own snoring).


      Tags: flute, music, wrist
      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. An Owl and a Flute

      by , 06-15-2014 at 02:36 PM
      Night of June 15, 2014. Sunday.



      It is advised that you skip this one if you are the type to get queasy over the words “saliva” or “spit”. You have been warned.

      I am in an unfamiliar area in a city, possibly a variation of a part of La Crosse somewhere near Third Street, though it “feels” of east and west orientation. There is someone I do not know who has an owl on her left shoulder and is facing the street. It is possible that it is my sister who died this year - it is not certain - I do not look directly at the person from the front and am on her right side the whole time. It seems to be late morning.

      I have some sort of flute (of a golden color but somewhat matte) and am playing a few shorter repetitive melodies and it sounds nice. Eventually, however, there is excess saliva in the instrument which is much more like water that runs out onto the sidewalk, almost going onto the owl but not quite. I am somewhat embarrassed, as there are other people walking around. This happens about three times.

      Eventually, my brother-in-law walks out of some sort of business, perhaps a pawn shop, from behind me, to my left. He makes a comment about not having to see someone’s spit (referring to the “water”) on the sidewalk, but is not referring to me, as he thought one of his employees had done it. The person he yells at walks past me, continuing to my right, seemingly to the east.

      I ask him if I can help with anything and he points out the curb. I am to fix it up somehow, apparently by removing pieces of grass growing through cracks - and small bits of broken concrete and such. I am not sure, though, but my dream shifts to something quite different. It is something about a classmate (Kenneth W?) going to school for longer hours for some reason. It seems to be the subject of a conversation that is more like telepathy somehow.

      I think the flute relates to having heard the “H.R. Pufnstuf” theme a few times recently and having it get “stuck” in my head.

      Additional note: Looking back at other dreams that had something unusual or “different” relative to the curb, I believe, for me anyway, that it has something to do with teeth (relative to the whole mouth) and aspects of their present condition, perhaps, as I do have some cavities.
      Tags: flute, owl
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    5. Doing lots of stuff [Lucid!]

      by , 08-05-2013 at 05:05 PM
      So the dream starts out with me walking home. Some guy pulls up in a truck. He looked sort of shady and he was carrying a gun. I then started trying to wake myself up.

      Then I realized, wait, I'm trying to wake myself up? I tried to imagine the guy turning into some sort of a gummy bear. It worked, but it was more like a pile of green mush.

      At this point I'm really exited, I start to remember the task of the month. Which is teach a DC something you don't know how to do. My thoughts were, my mom was a DC, so I would teach her something. I flew over to her work, then realized it was night time. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the world being light out. It worked! My mom was pulling up in her van.

      I stopped her at the door and said "I'm going to get you a better job, you hate your job." This was true, she complains about her job a lot. She smiled and said OK. We both got in the car and she started driving. She passed her grandparents on the street, and said "I'm going to be a flutist ". So then the problem of finding out something for her to do was over. I don't know a clue about the flute.

      As we were driving down (it seemed like a short time) she veered off into the woods. I started freaking out but she remained un-phased as we flew through trees.

      Yes. Through them.

      I closed my eyes, for no apparent reason, then opened them just as quickly. We were in a new place! I had teleported! I then tried it again, only ending up at the same spot we were at 5 seconds ago. I tried it one more time, this time imagining a music place...

      And then I woke up.

      Damn it.

      I guess I learned my lesson about how NOT to teleport.

      But hey! I did:
      Transform someone
      Fly
      Dilate time
      Go through things
      And teleport!

      Oh, and fail at a task of the month.

      Seems pretty good to me.

      Updated 08-07-2013 at 05:32 PM by 63516

      Categories
      lucid , task of the month
    6. Budget chaos & Mania

      by , 02-03-2012 at 09:40 PM
      In this dream, I took note of what I remember each time I woke up. Thus it is far more detailed than most other dreams, even though the memories faded pretty quickly.

      Watching a video, or maybe being part of one, on Youtube. This Asian girl with long hair was talking about "How not to get kicked in the balls", or rather WHY. However, at the 4 min 26 second mark, she says "how not to get kicked in the budget".

      My old bedroom, chart paper at the side, window at the back, cupboard at the right. I see a white poodle trying to get into the video scene. It gets stopped every time, getting mad, but I grab it, apparently unafraid.

      The dog tries to enter the scene from a pile of paper, first from the side, and then diagonally. Unsuccessful after the third or fourth time, it runs out the door. Somehow, this dog rather resembles a human character.

      In fact, this Dog, or whatever it was, was to be charged with a repeated drunk driving offense. Later, it runs, or rides, up a sheet of white furled paper.

      There's an announcement from the blue. Somebody has a love problem. No idea where those details went, but now, they're gone.

      A random part of my journal: "consp. causes". No idea what it indicates.

      Flashback: March 16, 2009. Security camera video shows terrorists plotting to bomb a concrete pillar, somewhere in southwestern central Ontario. Maybe it was near Alliston, we'll never know.

      I'm sitting at the site of a swing, or some-other place. This sandfly, part wasp, part fly, tries to fly into my nose. I ward it off, but at the last minute, it stings me, there is a feeling of spray being injected into me...

      I wake up, and go on Dream Views.com. Writing about my dreams, my thoughts are rather clear, the transitions vivid, the meaning intact. Yet soon I realize this is not to be.

      Waking up for real this time, it's about 3:45 am. Take some notes, go right back to sleep.

      I'm in a music room. Some girl takes my flute, initials AR, and throws it toward the percussion area. It's broken, and I say "FUCK". This flute cost $70, or maybe $430. I'm afraid to tell my dad, because he bought it for me.

      Sometime later down the line, there's an engine. Perhaps I'm examining how it works - I don't know.

      I'm reading this book about the physics of weather, a possible flashback to my poorly-done presentation about the physics of artificial trees that absorb carbon dioxide. As usual, the book goes into a computer model simulation.

      This time, there's talk about global warming not being real. Of course, I strongly disagree with that position. I see Greenland melting, refreezing, melting, refreezing again, rising and sinking above and below the waves. There are vivid colours here: sky blue, navy blue, orange, red, green, tan, yellow-green, yellow with a tinge of green, and brown. Near the Gulf Stream area, enveloping both Greenland and Iceland, a supervolcano destroys the land there in a big oval fashion. Iceland is first to melt, its people unaware, or possibly no people there at all. It's a Supervolcano, much like the Siberian Traps during the Permian-Triassic extinction era.

      I wake up. It's 6:45.

      There's a vivid drawing of some sort, the details now gone. Examining currency, bills, coins and American $1 bills. They're everywhere.

      At my house, time is frozen, and my mom is here. Suddenly, somebody knocks on the door, and gives her two white pills that smell very industrial. She takes them, and weird effects happen. We try to lower the dose, so that days two to five will require one pill a day only. No idea what it's for. She bikes outside, and I see some guy skateboarding outside my window, and they go down the street and it's a sunny day.

      Talking to my teacher now about French. Apparently one of the old teachers came back, and nothing happens. Or rather, there is not much to talk about, or maybe, there is.

      Waking up again, and it's 8:20.

      At some kind of zoo, or maybe it's a video game facade. I'm on the side of the lizards, but there are also mammals, lions and penguins. For some reason, the lizards decide to hide out on the near-vertical wall, bathing, possibly reminiscent of the sphenodontians, the last remaining species being the tuatara of New Zealand. Am I responsible? 30-40 % go extinct in a few hours. A travesty.

      Later, some kind of land mammal, forget the name. Every day, the lions jump over them, and a few of them get injured and die. We try closing the door, we try negotiating with Atlan, and nothing happens. Later, we storm the beach, and head outside. Success.

      I'm here at a beach party, outside now, warm weather. I ask this girl whether she's still interested in going to prom with me in a few months. Yet I get completely tongue-tied, and she ditches me, preferring instead to go with somebody else. Maybe those promises weren't meant to be kept that long. For a year.

      Waking up again, but forget to check the time. Guessing it's around 9:30.

      Something happens prior, no recollection. An old acquaintance of mine is standing in front of me, making me read some stuff that I find objectionable. Yet I read another text, this time in faux Greek, meaning the letters are greek, but the words English. I read this with no difficulty. Yet I leave out a compound word. The text turns out then, to be about spicy food. Oh no!

      Wake up for the final time now - it's 11:00 am. This dream had had at least twenty-five parts, none equal.
    7. Oct 9 Dream: A Flute Tune

      by , 10-11-2011 at 03:19 PM (The Dream Magic Experiment)
      I heard a flute very clearly (I was able to play it in my mind well after the dream). I was in the small eateries in front of Doctor's Hospital in Bacolod. I was going to eat, or was eating there. The place looked like a place where I can sleep. There were beds and rooms. Orange mood. Sexual mood. There are other people. I, or they, were naked.

      I also met a girl I considered "older sister." We were going out for an adventure. She looked like a ranger/adventurer.
    8. Ninja Jazz Flute

      by , 12-20-2010 at 12:57 AM (Sailing the Noosphere)
      The title pretty much says it all. I'm dressed in all black, stalking into my old high school with a flute in my hand to play for their Christmas concert. The place is well lit and pretty busy, so I sneak into a stairwell and slide underneath to hide in the darkness. I feel the approach of something evil, so I sprint up the stairs to the top floor. When I look out, I see that the whole floor has been cut away, replaced by a huge hole and some unknown machine surrounded by catwalks. Scientists in white lab coats surround the machine and enlist my help in turning it on. This I do, and an energy beam shoots out from its center and starts to cut through everything in its path. I realize that it's supposed to drill to the center of the earth.