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Same old story with the recall, only fragments. I guess being biphasic at the moment is capping the limit of my recall. I'm staying asleep so short times that proper long dreams can't form. According to my Zeo Sleep Monitor my longest REM-periods happen a little bit after five hours, so it's no wonder that I'm not reaching my best with 3-4 hours at a time. I'll still keep this up, we'll see if it improves once I get more used to it.

In the meanwhile let's check back to one fucked up dream I had a while back. One that proves that being lucid and having a nightmare are not exclusive.

Killing My Mom
Date: July 27th, 2009
Lucid: Yes
Method: DILD

I don't remember what triggered the lucidity, but after confirming it with reality check I was semi-excited. I had read bunch of stuff back then about grounding the lucidity using touch, so I tried licking a screw that I found. I didn't notice any change in the quality of the dream.

Next I tried to put the living room's light's on as the dream seemed a bit dark. Obviously the lights wouldn't work. I called out my mom to put them on. I mean surely the dream character would manage to put them on? I don't remember what we exactly said to each other, but she didn't do it in the end. So I did the next best alternative. I started fucking smashing the lamps into pieces. I guess I am more random when lucid than normally in dreams. Surprisingly that was such a strong stimulation that it strengthened the dream. I think it also got brighter, ironically.

My mom got upset about the broken lamps though. This sent the dream into a downward spiral. Her negative emotions (that were actually mine, since this is my dream after all), made me angrier and I started venting it on the furniture, as I knew it was a dream. I don't usually smash the TV like I did then when I'm mad. No, really, I don't do that shit. So anyway mom started screaming at me for such behavior and I didn't want to hear that shit.

I went to my brother's room. There's a big window there. I jumped through the glass to get out. Yeah, I sure like destruction. Why take the door, when you can smash yourself through two layers of glass? I ran to the woods next to our house to get away. The atmosphere of the dream had turned into really dark and depressing. I was frightened and conscious of it. I knew that I had to get rid of the fear because I knew that it would affect the dream. Besides, what's there to fear, I knew it was a dream after all!

I tried joking around with my mom. I said to her that she is surprisingly agile for such considering how big she is (she is overweight). I guess that's not the best joke to say someone to calm him down in reality, but as it amused me and my mom was just a manifestation of my mind, that could have worked. But it didn't.

Confrontation was inevitable. The fight was short and I killed my mom with a simple hit on the head. I was relieved, but still thought how fucked up that whole thing was. Relief was only temporary though, as my sis came after me next and she wasn't happy. I was like "you gotta be kidding me?" Do I have to kill my family members one by one in a lucid? That's some fucked up shit right there. I tried to convince her to calm down, but I said the last words aloud in my bed, as I had woken up. Thank Lord.

NON DREAM DREAM LUCID

I have very faint recollection of this dream...meh, that's what I get for waiting so long to type it up somewhere.

There is an evil man. Like, really evil. He has a gaggle of what appear to be elementary school students following him around, and they are being taught to do evil deeds.

I am not actually there, but I am witnessing this happen from somewhere. The group is in some sort of a museum, maybe? It has an atmosphere that tells me lots of tourists travel here.

There is a small model of a bedroom, complete with a window, a bed, and dresser.

Oh, and Dumbledore.

Yeah. So, Dumbledore was micro. Like, half a foot tall. This evil man with the group of kids was holding a stapler, hovering it threateningly above Dumbledore's head. Dumbledore desperately tries to hide, crouching behind the door. However, he only tries to hide for a second before he comes out with his hands up.

"Alright. Do what you will. I won't go out of this world a coward." he says. I don't realize what's happening until this point, and by then it's too late. The evil man lets of a laugh, and staples Dumbledore's head. There's no blood or anything, but everyone knows he's dead. The man continues to staple him anyways, and in the end, there are exactly 17 staples in his body.

Everything feels...well, sad. And defeated. Almost like the last hope in this world had just died.

Okay, so, as weird as that sounds, it was actually a really sad dream. Like, seriously.

Um...I blame this dream on reading Oneironaut's dream journal before bed...

There were some DV members in this dream, but I am just going to leave it vague.

It was the next semester at college, and I decided to be proactive this semester and join a club. The club was stationed in our dormitory, and it met nearly everyday in a dark office room.

Everything was fine at first. The club was just a meeting place for people with similar interests.

Over time, the club began to centralize its power until it developed, basically, into a cult.

The cult was headed by a man, who was often influenced by another woman in the club.

She reminded me of Bellatrix.

The cult took a dark turn for the worse when the woman announced that it had always been her fantasy to kill a person, and then dissect them.

Thus, the cult rapidly evolved into a murder-cult.

Everyday, the ring leader would order the members, who were lower in power, to find a victim. They would lure the victim into our dark, stone room, where the ringleader would then usually slit his or her throat.

After killing the victim, they would set his or her body on the table and cut apart the innards.

When they were finished, they ordered their members to dispose of the corpse in the abandoned highschool down the street.

A few of us realized that this is NOT the club that we had signed up for!

One of the girls decided to stand up against the members who were abusing their power. She told them off and said that she was not only leaving this group, but calling the cops.

The next day, when we came to the club/cult meeting, we found her corpse on the table. It had been made known to us that if anyone dare leave this cult or step out of line, this would be the result.

The situation kept getting darker and darker. The ringleader had suspicions that people were on to us. They would give us strange looks.

One gloomy evening, when the ring leader and several of his followers were in engaging in the mutilation of their most recent victim, I was finding myself barely able to take this anymore. I knew that there had been a silent resistance forming, but all of us seemed powerless against them.

I knew that any minute, I was about to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs. There was a fire growing inside me.

I was merely seconds from telling them off when a student walked in the door, which the ringleaders had forgotten to lock.

"Oh, wrong classroom," he muttered at first. But when his eyes caught sight of the mutilated corpse on the table he took a few steps back and ran out of the room.

"Make it look like nothing happened here!" The ringleader ordered, suddenly. But everyone was too paralyzed to do anything about the situation. The members who had little power, but were involved in the group enough to struggle for more power, were the only ones who had decided to actually follow the orders of the ringleader. They disposed of the body and cleaned up the crime scene before the cops arrived.

I decided, from that day on, that I was done with clubs. Never again.

I went back to my dorm, realizing that I would probably need therapy for the rest of my life to get over that. Rumors were already spreading all over the school about a cult that would kill and mutilate people.

My room mate caught wind that I had been involved in this cult and pushed me down the stairs while yelling about how wrong it is to kill twenty-two people. I wanted to tell her that I had nothing to do with the slaying of these people, but I knew that that statement was false. If I could have worked up the courage to alert the authorities even after the first slaying, twenty-one people could still be alive.

I was already hearing about the arrests of the ringleader and his closest followers, and I knew that they were coming for me too.

I looked out my dorm window, and wished that a blue-purple feather would fall down from the sky, and I wished that I could sprout beautiful blue-purple wings and just fly away...

I dreamt that I woke up. Then, I saw a light shining in from my window. I immediately grabbed a flashlight of my own and looked outside. There were two men in black goodies outside, one with a 5 'o clock shadow. One said, "He's seen us!" The other pulls out a pistol, aims it at my head, and says, "I'll handle this." It took me a second to realize he was holding a gun, but when I did I swiftly laid flat on my bed, just in time to see the bullet fly overhead. Then the one who shot at me said, "Alright then, we'll just go visit your family first then." Rage built inside me, and I became a little suspicious of reality (the bullet hadn't shattered the window), but right as I was about to jump out the window and kill them, my rage awakened me. For real.

Good morning, everybody.

Ugh! I let my dumb weekend chores spiral out of control. So I'm not making this entry until now!

Just as a note, the second dream was the closest thing to a nightmare that I've had in a long time. It wasn't very different from many of my other dreams. But, for some reason, it upset me a lot. I could hear myself screaming in the dream. I may actually have woken up screaming.

Dream #1

I was heading into the lobby of either an apartment building or a hotel. I had just moved out of my old place and into this new place. The lobby was really wide, but with a low ceiling and a kind of old, worn-out look. There was a little front-desk-type area at the back, right corner of the lobby.

I headed toward a small room on the left wall, near the front of the lobby. It was the mail room. There were a lot of aluminum mailboxes along the wall on my right side. But a lot of the mailboxes were busted open. Someone had broken into the mailboxes.

I was arfraid for my own mail. My mailbox may have been open. I had some mail in my box. But it did seem like something was missing.

I looked at my mail as I walked out of the room. One piece of mail was for some other apartment. The other piece may have been a door tag from FedEx, like what they leave on a door when they come to deliver a package, but the person isn't hme.

I thought I would either give the piece of wrongly delivered mail directly to the person it belonged to, or else give it to the person at the front desk. But I was kind of afraid to let anybody know that the mailboxes had been broken into. I didn't want the people who'd broken into them to cme after me.

For some reason I was getting ready to leave the apartment. A FedEx man was coming in at the same time. But instead of asking him about my package, I told him that someone had broken into the mailboxes.

Dream #2

A documentary about the effects of some sort of nuclear accident, probably in Russia, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't Chernobyl. The documentary was following the lives of people in a small town near the accident.

The people had all been exposed to radiation. But they hadn't been moved away from the area where they'd been exposed. Most of the people seemed to be women.

There was one woman in a bedroom that kind of looked like a hostpital room. The woman was by herself, with her baby, in the room. But the room had multiple beds (or low cots), some of which could be separated from each other by dark blue curtains.

The woman was walking back and forth with her baby cradled to her chest by means of some kind of blanket. The woman wore a dark green t-shirt and may have been pushed up above the navel of the woman's taut belly.

A narrator may have said something about how the woman was really ill from the effects of the radiation. Now the woman was laying in one of the low cots, holidng her baby close to her. The baby may then have changed into a three- or four-year-old girl. The girl may have been tending to the mother.

The view now closed up on the woman's right arm, which was loosely hanging off the edge of the bed. A nurse administered some kind of injection into the woman's arm.

But either the woman was so sick that her body couldn't take any more medicine, or else the injection had been administered wrongly, and now the woman's body was rejecting it. The woman's vein swelled into a square about 3 cm per side. Then the woman's heart stopped beating.

I couldn't believe the woman had just died! I was now in the room. I don't know where the daughter was. I don't know where the nurse was. I thought I was myself, by myself.

I was panicking. I didn't know what to do about the dead woman. I still didn't want to believe she was dead. I thought if I found somebody, they might be able to save her.

So I used my cell phone and called somebody who I thought could help. I was now out in what I thought was the lobby for a small, narrow apartment complex.

I got a hold of the person, probably a man. Suddenly I had to admit to myself that the woman was dead, and that that was what I was going to have to explain to the person. As I started talking to the person, I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was a woman, maybe in her mid- to late-twenties. I was either white or Latina. My skin was pale. I had kind of sharp, almost squarish features. I wore some kind of pale, powdery foundation, and my eyebrows seemed to be pencilled in. I also had my hair in tight braids, which seemed almost like dredds, except with a bunch of tiny tangles coming off of them.

I then walked toward either a blank wall or a white wall with a plain, white door on it. As I did this, I told the man I was speaking to that I had been the one to administer the shot to the dead woman.

When I suddenly realized or admitted that I had been the one that had killed the woman, I broke down. I was crying. But my voice was more of a terrified moan, which eventually became a low-pitched, loud scream.

Dream #3

I was in "my bedroom," which almost had the shape of my bedroom, but which was almost empty. There were some boxes along the back wall, near the left corner. But I noticed they had been pushed from the wall.

I was afraid that somebody had been in my room. BUt I was more worried about putting the boxes back into alignment.

When I looked closer, I noticed that what had probably pushed them out of the way was some really heavy box that had managed to slump over toward the wall in such a way that it wedged in between the other boxes and the wall, pushing the other boxes aside as it slid along the wall, down toward the floor.

I picked up the heavy box. It was apparently a Christmas package I'd received. I figured I'd just need to open the package now and put the contents wherever they belonged in the house, so that the box would stop interfering with the order of my other boxes.

I opened the package. A wine bottle was inside. I pulled it out. The green bottle was encased in a white, plastic square, and it had a white, plastic, pull-off top.

I must have done something with the bottle. But now I was standing near the front wall of my room. The lights had been on before. But now they were off. The only light in the room was coming from my hallway or bathroom.

I was looking at my room, proud of how clean and spacious it looked, now that I'd organized things so well. But I now noticed that I had a cluttered pile laying a meter or so away from my back and right walll. The pile was mostly clothes, though there may also have been a blanket or beanbag chair.

I sighed, annoyed that I'd have to clean this stuff up before I could truly think I had a clean room. I lifted up a maroon, button-up shirt made out of some flannel-like material. I folded it. I folded another piece of clothing. I eventually worried that someone, somehow, might discover that I also had female clothing in this pile.

Dream #4

One of the very first episodes of the TV show Full House. Almost everybody in the cast was different.

The house itself also looked a lot different, like a mix between the house in Growing Pains and the house in Family Ties. There was a staircase on the left side of the room, near the front door. At the foot of the staircase was a big piano.

The dad and Uncle Jesse had kind of secretly worked to buy a doll for the middle daughter of the family. (Uncle Jesse may have been John Stamos, but the dad wasn't Bob Saget.) The two men wanted to make up for something really aggravating that had happened to the girl, and had probably been their fault.

So the two men left the doll sitting on top of the piano. The room was now empty, though I had an image in my mind's eye of the older daughter, who was the same person as in the regular show, except that she had really straight hair and wore eyeglasses.

The middle daughter now walked into the house. She was different from the daughter in the regular cast. She saw the baby doll laying on the piano top. Surprised, she rushed to the doll and picked it up. She walked up the stairs with it.

The doll wore no clothes, probably had a white, cloth body, and plastic limbs, and was either bald or had plastic "hair" molded onto her head.

Somehow this plain old cloth and plastic doll managed to pee. She just let out a huge gush of water, getting the daughter's front all wet.

The daughter's appearance had changed. She now looked like a "rebel girl" or "skater girl" kind of TV show character. She cried out, "Oh, god! You peed all over me!"

The daughter needed to clean herself off. But now the whole scene started over again. But everything that had already happened was still remembered by the characters.

The doll was placed, by an unseen erson, on the piano top. For a moment, the camera view closed in really tight on the doll, who seemed to be surrounded by a tiny square of little, wooden bars, almost like a mini, doll-sized railing that had been built onto the piano top.

The daughter ran in and picked it up, this time without any surprise or excitement. The daughter may also still have needed to clean the pee off herself.

But now the daughter, walking up the stairs, started saying things to the doll like, "Oh, yeah! I really like you! You're really sexy!"

I wondered why this girl would find a doll so sexy, and I wanted to see more, to see howthis relationship would develop between the girl and the baby doll that she found sexy.

I was at home, but the house isn't as similar. My sister was frying salted fish; it was smoky inside the kitchen, and the rest of the house. Blur. I slept. I woke up, seeing the same view I saw before I fell asleep. I was in bed. It was a weekday, early in the morning. We had school (me, my sis, and my bro). My sister said it was good she cooked enough last night to last 'til breakfast.

I can't remember much about the events in my dreams lately, so I will just put out words and phrase clouds:
Bloody hands. A long sword. Two swordsmen fighting. A murderer uncaught wanders about. Someone's arms were cut-off. Bleeding. A dead body covered in blood. Screaming. Fear. Dark. Snakes and apes. A theater-like stage with red curtains and yellow spotlights. A grey rabbit mascot. Shy. Sing. Choir. Red chairs in the auditorium.

The scene opens with the door to a large house opening and inside a broken pipe is spewing water everywhere and on the floor a woman in a maid outfit is dead, her blood making a pool around her. Inside the living room the family is having a meeting. The mom is saying how they cannot live in here anymore so some friends of theirs come over to take them to some other place.

I feel that this one is situated somewhere "Jistebsko" or so.
I am not sure how it all started, but there is an old lady living in a little house near a big one. She is a mother of the man living in the big house. I know her somehow. I think there is some money involved. Then once I go there with some friend and the window is open. I just get closer to the window and smell rotting meet. Then I spot her lying on the floor. She is dead. I am not sure what to do. For some reason I think that people might suspect me of murdering her. I even think that I did it. I think that I killed her with knife. So I leave. Then I come back few days later as someone calls me to check on her as they haven't seen her for some time. Well, surprise surprise!! I look inside the house again, just through the window. Now it smells really bad. I can just see her legs on the floor (the rest of the body is out of view). The meet of the legs is all bitten of my rats or perhaps other animals. I then go to the house to report that I found her dead. But the people walk towards me. They are shocked. Then they start asking me loads of questions. When they open the door to the house, the body is covered. There is a knife on the floor, all covered in blood. For some reason I think I had just the same knife. Then this man (from the house) reaches on a side... there is a little hole in the wall (near the stairs) and he pulls out a piece of paper. I take it off his hand.. I know that I wrote it. I crumble the paper instantly... than I think... "shit".. this is so suspicious. I look at the paper. Yes, I wrote it. But its about meeting some girl, some other one than I was seeing. I start explaining to the family, what the note means. I talk about Adriana (for some reason the note has something to do with her). They listen. I feel a lot of pressure on me. Then we talk about holidays... and I think "shit, I should just get out of here, somewhere far!"

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was on the Brooklyn Bridge with my mom and possibly some other members of my family. It was like we were looking down onto the walkway of the bridge, like we were floating over it. The bridge itself looked like it was in bad shape, even like it had been charred in places.

There was a young, white boy sitting on the footpath, in some weird contraption that seemed actually to have been made out of the footpath.

The contraption looked like a pipe organ. But there were no pipes. Instead there was some kind of grid of square holes, where the pipes would have been. The holes were all charred, and they may have had broken-off fragments of pipes in them. The rest of the contraption seemed to be made out of wood and metal suspension wires.

The boy started talking about how he'd taken his wife to the Brooklyn Bridge and murdered her. He'd done something really cruel to her, then he'd cut her throat.

The boy may have said something about how he thought the Brooklyn Bridge was such a great spot for doing evil things. He may also have said he was planning to do something even more evil on the Bridge.

I was pretty amazed. I "knew" this boy was only twelve years old. But he'd already been married and murdered his wife. I wondered what the next evil thing was that he could be planning to do.

I may have wondered whether, since my mom and I were on the bridge, we'd have to do something evil, too. I visualized the suspension cables on the bridge snapping here and there. I may have imagined the bridge collapsing.

Dream #2

I was riding in a big vehicle like a van with a big group of people, possibly my family, out onto a bridge. It was like we had just come up out of a tunnel and onto the bridge. We were high over a river like the Hudson River.

We drove on an outer lane, so I could see the river well. I looked back, to the large city we were driving away from. There were huge, curling billows of smoke, piling higher and higher. The smoke didn't look like clouds: it looked like chains of grey lava, just piling up.

I felt like this was the smoke from a nuclear bomb. I figured that the smoke buildup was just a precursor to the great flash of light. I wondered why there was no mushroom cloud. But it suddenly occurred to me that the lava-like clouds were building themselves up into a mushroom cloud. Once the cloud was fully formed, the light would flash.

The cloud formed a stalagmite-like pillar, and then suddenly there was a bright, white flash. It must have had some force to it. I remember hanging halfway out the window, my arm flapping in the air, in bright, white light, and unable to pull myself back into the van.

The flash dissipated. I was back inside the van. We were still driving. We'd continued driving all this time.

I was surprised that I didn't feel burnt. The bomb had been blindingly bright, but not hot at all. I figured we must have been too far away to feel the heat. I was afraid that if another bomb dropped, I'd really feel the heat.

Another bomb must have gone off. There was another huge, bright flash, this time without any smoke. As the bomb's light dissipated, there was a storm of little black spheres, like marbles made out of smoky quartz, and tiny, little, cartoony rainbows. These things flickered in and out, like on a video game.

These vanished, and we kept driving on. I'd been looking backward all this time. But now I looked forward. I knew another bomb would strike soon. But I was afraid -- more for the heat of the blast than anything else.

This time the bomb exploded really close to us. There was a huge flash of light, again with no smoke. And again there was a huge flurry of black spheres and tiny rainbows. But the flash of white light didn't dissipate very much at all.

I felt like everything else had vanished around me. I was pulled up out of the van -- if it still existed -- and was made to fly higher and higher up into the air. As I did, I soared through swarms and swarms of the black spheres and rainbows.

Eventually the flash dissipated -- but not fully. For a moment I may have seen the river and city below. But then I saw only blue sky and white clouds, like I was flying upward through some sort of cloud level in a video game.

I began to be able to control my flight through the crowds of black spheres and rainbows, but not really well. I would fly quickly at the spheres and rainbows, hitting them, as if I were "collecting" them.

At some point I realized that this must be the afterlife. I'd become a spirit, and now I was operating on some kind of spirit level.

This struck my "reasonable" side (if you can't tell, even IWL, I don't have much of a "reasonable" side) as odd. I remembered a dream I'd had, as a kid, about dying in a nuclear bomb blast. In that dream, my spirit had drifted up through a tunnel darkness and clouds, up to a big, full moon.

I thought that had been the correct version of the afterlife. So, I thought, this version would probably change into that version at some point.

I told myelf to remain calm and stable and keep flying around in the black spheres and rainbows. Eventually, I figured, this vision would fade into a vision of me drifting up into the moon.

Dream #3

I was in some kind of room with a few other people. I may have known a few of them, and one of them may have been my mother. It felt like there were a lot of us. But the room was pretty big, and we all had our own space.

The room looked kind of like a bedroom. There was a huge line of bunk beds, maybe enough beds for eight or so people. Then there was a concrete floor. Off to the right of the beds, there was a space with a cluttered grouping of plastic chairs.

Across the floor from the beds was a big piece of furniture, like a huge dresser. It was about waist-high, and there was a TV on top. Behind the TV there was a little ledge, and then some more space, like a little cubby hole with more bed-like mattresses.

People sat on the beds and in the chairs. It was almost like we were all watching TV. But we were really hanging out, waiting for some people to get us for some reason or another.

Some of us may have been eating fried chicken. Others may have been eating wraps, like the hot wraps at Pret-a-Manger. I may have been eating a wrap that had fried chicken inside of it.

For some reason I put on a pair of white, satiny panties, and a white, satiny or lacy bra. I started walking around like this in front of everybody. I was partly ashamed of myself for doing this, being a guy and walking around in lingerie. But I also felt like I was part of some fashion show.

I went back to my space on the bunk beds, the mattresses of which were folded up, like futons, to appear like couches. I was looking for my regular clothes. I may have found them. I was really eager to change back into them.

But now it really like there was a fashion show. Some other guy walked around in front of everybody in lingerie. I just watched. I don't think I changed out of the lingerie I was wearing.

A little boy was supposed to go next. The boy was maybe five years old. He ran away from his dad, who may have been trying to get the boy ready for the fashion show. The boy stood at the other end of the room, eating a hot wrap. He may have only been wearing Underoos underwear.

I realized the dad had been trying to put the boy into lingerie. But the boy didn't want to wear women's lingerie. He wanted to be a boy, not a girl.

I didn't think it was fair for the boy to have to wear lingerie if he didn't want to. But I realized that it was kind of my fault. I'd started this whole weird "fashion show" thing by walking around in lingerie. Now it was even affecting the little boys.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a huge building, either like a mansion or a museum. The building was dim, as if at night, with only a few lights on.

I had been in a back area, where there was a high, wooden wall, with a tall window up high on the wall. I then walked forward to some narrow area with a slanted, wall-like display stand or case.

My old friend R was standing in front of this display area. He stood really close to it. He seemed to be trying to avoid looking at me. I somehow knew he'd gotten a reputation for being violent, almost psychotic. He was so tired of dealing with this reputation that he didn't even want to have to look at anybody.

But he actually was as violent as people accused him of being. And he actually wanted to act violently toward me, because he felt I'd somehow insulted him.

I faced R. But now he was in a room even closer to the front of the building. He was in a little niche in a wall to my right. He may even have been wrapped in bandages, like a mummy.

I wanted to prove that there was no reason to be afraid of R and that I wasn't afraid of him. So I handed R a whole bunch of items that looked like huge items of silverware: like huge forks and knives. There were also some huge tongs that looked like forks. Everything was sharp, and I knew it could all be used as a weapon to kill me.

I was now going to leave the house. The idea was, I knew, that if R had weapons and I left the house, that R would kill me. But I was going to prove people wrong. Nevertheless, I was still afraid to leave through the front door.

I ran all the way to the back of the building. There was a window I'd easily be able to climb up to and crawl out of. But as I started crawling out the window, I felt like R might be right there, waiting to throw the weapons I'd given him at my chest.

So I climbed back down. To my right, as I faced the wall, there was a dim kitchen, just like a kitchen in any nice suburban house. Just above the sink was another window. I thought that since R thought I was going to come out the back window, I'd be safe going out the kitchen window instead.

But as I was climbing out the window, I could feel R's presence again. I knew that this time he probably would manage to catch me, throwing the sharp weapons I'd given him at my chest and piercing my heart.

Dream #2

I was looking at a magazine, maybe a porn magazine. The pages were nothing but photos, maybe six photos per page, in the same kind of style as a porn magazine.

The photos showed two girls in bed. They were about nine or ten years old. They were wearing pajama pants and pajama shirts. Apparently, under their pajama pants the girls were wearing diapers.

The girls got into a kind of sixty-nine position with each other. The girl on top of the other girl rubbed her face against the bottom girl until her pants had been worked off. She somehow managed to remove the girl's diaper in the same way.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a room like a preschool classroom, although the room was supposed to be an office. The room was dark, except for the glow of a TV, which I was sitting on the floor and watching, (though my view seems to have been from slightly outside my body). The room seemed pretty empty -- no desks or tables; just chairs and short bookcases lining the walls.

Someone came into the room and pulled one of the chairs out of the room. The person was all in shadow, but he seemed to me to have been a young, male office worker. The chair he pulled out was an office- style swivel-chair. All the chairs in the room may have been like that.

I knew the guy wasn't supposed to take the chairs. And I knew he knew it. He basically just wanted to steal. But I was too afraid to stand up to him and stop him.

Now I was in the room with "my co-workers." The lights were on in the room, and there were desks in the room. But there weren't enough chairs for all the desks. In fact, there were hardly any chairs at all.

The boss (I think) said, "Someone from another office has been stealing our chairs! How the hell are we all gonna sit down?"

I knew who stole at least one of our chairs. But I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to betray that I'd been too afraid to stand up to the guy.

So now I and another guy were going out looking for chairs. The boss had told us, I "knew," that we should go to all the rooms in this building. And room that looked like it had way more chairs than it needed had obviously been stealing chairs from us. So we were to "take the chairs back" out of that room and to our room.

The man and I wandered through the hallways, which were kind of narrow, short, and grey. We went into some smaller rooms, which were apparently multi-office rooms or single offices. Some of them looked like classrooms.

Then we ended up in a pretty big conference room. The room was dark, with our only light coming in through the hallway. The room was empty, with just a few school desks and chairs here and there, overturned, not in any real order. But it looked like there weren't more chairs than desks, so we couldn't take chairs from this room.

But being in the conference room made me think. If the man searching with me thought we should be looking in conference rooms for chairs, then we should probably be looking in the conference room closest to our office. Something about the way the guy had stolen the chair had made me think he wouldn't go far with it.

In my excitement at thinking I knew where we should go, I gasped a bit and lifted my left arm up, almost like I was raising my hand to ask a question in class. I then put my hand to my lips. I said, "We should go to the..."

But I had to strain to remember the name of the conference room. Finally I got it. I said, "We should go to the Goshen Room!"

The man said, "That's right! I was just about to say the same thing!"

We were now in the Goshen Room. There were chairs all over the place, as well as school desks. Everything was overturned and disordered. But it seemed pretty obvious that there were too many chairs in here.

The man spoke to me (although I seemed to be seeing from his viewpoint) as if we were looking at a grisly murder scene. He said, "Go. Get the others from the office. We need to gather the chairs quick. These people will be back soon."

The man himself now seemed to have been heading for the door, to get the other people from the office. I was deeper in the room, looking at the chairs. The swivel-chairs' seats had been completely unscrewed from their bases, kind of like a bolt screwing into a hole, or a bottle cap screwing onto a plastic bottle top.

I stood staring at a few swivel chair bases. I figured we'd all have to carry this stuff back to our office in awkward armfuls, then screw everything back together there. I wondered if we'd be able to get everything of ours back to the office, and if we'd be able to put it all back together.

DJ Log: October 22, 2011 – 6:30AM (USA Eastern)
Text color legend: · NON-DREAM · NOTES · DREAM · LUCID ·

I am walking through an old building with Devon, a good friend of mine. He stops at a large vault door and says, "That door is supposed to stay open at all times." When he opens the door, there is a guy tied up against a pole and another guy standing there giving us an evil glare. Startled, he steps back from the door and the guy slams it shut. Devon goes back to the door and struggles to open it again. The guy on the inside is holding the door shut while he's trying to pull it open. After a bit of struggle, the guy lets the door open, then stabs Devon in the chest with a large knife. He runs off and a couple of other friends chase him down. Devon is bleeding and not doing well at all. Suddenly, medics arrive and start to work on him. After a moment, one of the medics comes to me and says, "He's not going to make it." I walk up to Devon and find that he is struggling to catch the last breath. I take his hand and say, "Look directly into my eyes." When he does, I draw the life from his body and store it in mine.

I tell the medics to connect his body to a life support machine and keep his vitals going while the damage can be repaired. At first they look at me strangely, but then they quickly comply. After some time, they tell me that they have him stabilized. I retrieve a syringe filled with a hazy green liquid from my pocket and hand it to the medic. I say, "Give this to him slowly and he will be fine." As they work on him, I wander off with a couple other friends. As we walk, the old abandoned building morphs into a shopping mall. We walk to the end of the mall, then turn around and make our way back toward the entrance.

As we're walking, I see Devon standing at the order counter of a pretzel shop with a female friend of mine. When he sees me approaching, he turns around and gives me an ecstatic look. We hug while telepathically exchanging quite a bit of information, then he goes back to the counter and finishes his order. While he is ordering, she tells me that he is doing much better now. She leans toward me and gives me a cute grin while saying, "You do know that he wants you really bad, right?" I reply, "Yes, I know. The feeling is mutual."

When Devon gets his pretzel, we leave everyone else behind and walk off into the fading dream scape.

I am thankful that I was able to log this one. My brain was emptying itself quicker than I could transfer the dream's memory to my journal.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was in a dark bedroom with my mom and my sister. The room seemed to have cinder block walls and concrete floors. The only light in the room seemed to be a blue glow from somewhere along the walls. The room was really big, almost empty, with a big bed off on the right wall.

I held something like an iPad in my hands. It was playing some sort of news show. Below the news show there was a little yellow strip that ran horizontally across the screen. In this strip would be shown little squares that were like stills frome video news stories.

The news story playing in the main part of the screen was interrupted at one point by an announcer informing people that updates had been made on a man who had been wanted by the police.

I looked down to see the updated videos. At first there were strings of black text. As well as the wanted man, there had been a missing man. One string of text said, "MISSING MAN FOUND DEAD." Another string of text said, "WANTED MAN FOUND KILLING MISSING MAN."

I now pressed on one of the stills, to play one of the video news updates. In my mind's eye, I saw a video image of the wanted man being caught doing something like sawing the missing man's head off while he was still alive.

While I had been wathing the original news story and reading the lines of text, I had been sitting out on the floor, in the middle of the room. Now I was laying on the bed, possibly with my sister.

The still I had pressed played a video history of the two men, up to the most updated news reports. The shots showed various photos of the men in some living room. There was often also a woman in the room. The woman was one of the men's wife. I'm not sure which man.

The men's appearances changed throughout the photos. Sometimes the men looked young, almost 1970s-like. They had huge hair and wore dark sweaters and jeans. At other times, they looked like kind of clean-cut college guys.

But most of the time the two guys looked almost identical: long hair pulled back in a ponytail, the hair mostly brown, with grey streaks in it, and a big grey streak in the center, full, but not huge, beards, and blue eyes.

The two men had had something to do with a cult. It was like one of the men had been the cult leader, while another of the men had been a member of the cult, then gone on either to join another cult or try to make a cult of his own.

Either both men or just the cult leader became militantly angry. There were possibly even groups sent out with weapons. Finally the cult leader had caught up with the other guy and killed him.

http://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/atra...s-dream-24103/

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I stood before a group of people including Alice Liddell and Xie Kitchin. Alice and Xie stood on either side of something like a tree, although the tree was probably indoors. Something like an old scroll-sign may have been posted to the tree, and there may have been a staircase leading up to the tree. A few other people were around Alice and Xie, possibly including Lewis Carroll.

Either I or Lewis Carroll had brought gifts for Alice and Xie. The gifts were in thin, plastic bags, like the kind you might get at a bookstore. Caroll had given the gift to Xie with some amount of ceremony, but had neglected the same kind of presentation with Alice.

Caroll may have given Alice her present first, then given Xie her present. But he now rushed back over to Alice. He may have thought it was too late for making a presentation. So he may not have done much of anything at all. Both girls' gift-bags were lying at their feet.

Now Alice was walking around by herself in a space that was like a small path in a forest, except inside something like a mall. In fact, the "forest path" area was occasionally so narrow that it was like Alice was simply walking on the edge of some planter, right in the middle of a shopping mall's corridor.

As all this went on, Lewis Carroll went on to tell a story about how Alice had gotten a bug stuck in her nose. But somehow the bug was good, and Alice knew this. The bug may have been light green and maybe 10-15cm long. Alice knew that if she blew the bug out of her nose that something good would happen, so that Alice would have a good rest of the day.

But somehow, the story went, Alice thought that the second part of the day was always grumpy. So Alice was curious how the second part of the day could actually be happy.

So, Carroll narrated, Carroll told Alice that the first part of the day knew that the second part of the day was always grumpy. So the first part of the day would hide and avoid the second part of the day. But then the first part of the day would sneak up and surprise the first part of the day, somehow influencing the second part of the day to be good.

Dream #2

I was probably in something like a train (or a pickup truck?) with my sister and another woman, who was probably my sister's friend. It was a sunny day, and the sky was clear and deep blue. We rode along something that looked like a big lake. But it may actually have been an area hit by a really bad flood. The water actually looked peaceful, and it reflected the blue of the sky.

I told my sister that perhaps the flood hadn't been so bad after all. In fact, I didn't think the "power plant" had been damaged, like my sister had apparently thought. My sister may now have felt that I had been right.

But, even as we were talking, we came up to the power plant. It was at the other end of this "flood lake" from us, although now we were directly across from it. At first, it may have looked okay. But then, we saw, it was completely smashed and still half under the floodwaters. It looked like it had actually been only a substation. Now it was a bunch of smashed steel frames, wires, coils, and fencing. I told my sister it looked like she had been right after all.

Dream #3

I was in a small room, which may have been part of a library or museum. The room actually felt like a room in an old castle. The walls were like stucco. The walls each had wide, arched entryways on them. The room was kind of dim, with natural light seeming to come in from some indiscernable place.

There was a crowd of teenagers packed in the room, watching L'Arc en Ciel perform on a stage. I was alternately in the crowd and on the stage, singing, as if, from time to time, I became Hyde.

Then I was in the crowd, outside the room, in a kind of narrow hallway, which was just as packed with people. Somebody made an announcement that a line was now forming for the special L'Arc en Ciel concert, which would be held later on. The line was first come first serve, and only a few people would get into the concert.

I saw the line forming in the crowd in which I stood, like a current in the ocean. I thought that I should try to get in the line. After all, I thought of myself as a pretty big L'Arc en Ciel fan. But I was already sick of the crowd, and I didn't want to have to deal with the jerks in line on top of that. So I figured I'd forget it.

I was now walking through a big area, like a covered porch in an old monastery, although I may still have been inside. The crowd was still pretty thick here, although I finally had some personal space.

I was then standing before a woman who sat at a bench. The woman was maybe in her mid to late fifties. She had obviously been thin all her life, though she now seemed to be gaining weight, and she looked a little dumpy. She had pale, brown hair and fair skin. Her face was kind of square, lined with wrinkles. She had pale eyes. But the whites of her eyes looked misted over with purple, almost as if bruised.

The woman was either fully or mostly blind. She carried a walking cane. She may have been trying to explain to me how I needed to keep my emotional grounding regarding some kind of problem in my life.

I was really concerned by the purple coloring on the woman's eyes. I asked the woman how she'd become blind. The woman may have started telling me her story.

Dream #4

I was in the driveway of "my boss' house." It was a nice, sunny day. There were a lot of cars in the driveway, and there may have been a lot of people and activity on the driveway and in the garage, which was open.

Someone explained that my boss had been arrested for murder. The police were in the house, getting my boss. My boss' wife and daughter now came out of the house, hugging each other and crying. The daughter was blonde, wore a pink dress, and was maybe six or seven years old. She barely came up to her mother's waist. Apparently the little girl had been a victim of my boss' craziness.

Now the police were bringing out my boss. Someone mentioned that my boss thought I was stalking him. Part of the paranoia that had led him to murder was the thought that I was stalking him and somehow mind-controlling him, so that he'd become a killer. So I thought that, as my boss was brought out, I'd hide a little, so he wouldn't think I was there, "still" stalking him.

But the police brought my boss out too soon for me to hide. My boss was very pale, like my boss is IWL. But he looked a lot more manly. His face was kind of rugged and square, instead of being round and flabby. He also had stubble on his face. His hair was short, kind of wiry, maybe pale brown or red. My boss wore a pale, denim shirt. He looked really worn out by whatever he'd been through.

As the police were putting my boss in the car, my boss got a view of me. But I couldn't tell what he thought of seeing me. I and someone else got in another car and pulled away. I thought if my boss saw me leaving, he wouldn't think I'd been stalking him.

I was now somewhere, possibly in front of my boss' house again. I heard that my boss had actually murdered his daughter. The murder had actually been part of some ritual, maybe satanic.

My mom and I were now pulling up to my boss' house in a car. It was dark outside. It was either very late night or very early morning. We were here to pick up my sister. My sister had been in the house when my boss had committed the murders (my boss had possibly also murdered his wife). My sister was now "acting" as if she was house-sitting while my boss was in prison. This was so my boss wouldn't think my sister either knew about or felt uncomfortable about the murders that had been committed while she'd been in the house.

The home was still a separate home. But it was set up in a strange way. To get to the front door, I had to walk up a tall staircase, up to a balcony, like in an apartment complex or a hotel with outdoor balconies connecting the residences.

I knocked on the door, which was a grid of wood-framed, glass panes, showing in to the entrance corridor. The floors of the hallway were tile. There was something that seemed to be orange about the walls, though the walls seemed to be some kind of beige marble. The hallway ended in a wall and went off to the left and the right, i.e., in a "T" shape.

My sister first came from the right side. She saw me standing outside. She seemed to rush off, to get all her stuff together to meet me. She now came from the left side. She wore a giant, very lifelike, replica of a white horse's head on her body, so that the only part of her showing from under the horse's head was her legs, below the knees.

Somehow my sister explained to me (she was still walking to the door, and I was still outside) that she wore the horse's head as part of the satanic ritual. But she also wore it so my boss wouldn't think my sister had been able to see the murders my boss had committed. But I also knew that my sister wore the horse head over her body as a defense against the trauma she'd experienced from the murders.

Somehow, it was like my sister was my boss' daughter, and that my sister had been the main victim of some torturous satanic ritual which then culminated in the murder of someone, though probably not my sister.

Someone may have explained to me how my boss had finally been arrested. But as they told me this story, it was like I was watching the arrest. It was like my view was only 33cm or so away from my boss. Sometimes I may actually have seen from my boss' point of view.

My boss apparently lived in a smallish, kind of squalid, apartment. It was daytime. The front door of the apartment was open. The police were standing just inside, in the living room. They were going through the procedures of arresting my boss. But my boss suddenly made a break for it.

My boss may have been a young, tallish, slim, but muscular man wearing a sweater and jeans, with black hair and a light beard. My boss ran down a staircase. He ran past the apartments, into a desert field of dry grass and pale gravel. He then ran down into a shallow box canyon. He began spray painting a lot of words onto the walls of the box canyon in red spray paint.

I was curious about what my boss had written. It seemed like it was some kind of message, like for a doomsday cult. But I felt like there might be an element of philosophical truth, or at least a kind of dark coolness, to it. But I was also interested in how the police had caught up to my boss and captured him.

But the vision had ended here. Now I was in a weird building, like a convention center or shopping mall full of stuff that made it feel like a bunch of hotel lobbies or living rooms. I had been watching some TV. I'd probably been watching the scene of which I'd thought I'd been a part.

Someone standing near me may have explained to me that the police had caught my boss. But I knew they'd caught him. What I was interested in was how they'd caught him, and what he'd written on the walls of the box canyon.

I knew that my mother had gotten the newspaper. She'd actually just gone out to get the paper. She'd likely be coming back home with the paper by now. So I'd just go up to my mom's apartment (or room?) to get an account from my mom on what details had been in the paper.

I walked up to the mezzanine balcony of the strange building. I went down a side hallway and into a room like a hotel room, which was my mom's apartment. My mom had just arrived, and she was reclining on her bed with a selection of magazines and newspapers laid before her.

My mom may have been a kind of tall, kind of beautiful, glamorous woman, maybe just now beginning to gain weight. She may have worn a dark, silk slip and some kind of silk, floral-printed robe. She may have been wearing black mascara and a "Mrs. Robinson" hairstyle.

I sat on the bed with my mom and thumbed through some of the magazines and papers. I saw that some of the articles about my boss had pictures of Anders Breivik. (I didn't know Breivik's name in the dream.)

I asked my mom about it. She said, "When he tried to escape from the police, he tried to be like that Norway guy." (She might actually have said "Sweden guy.") "So he used a pickup truck as a getaway vehicle."