• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    1. Thursday, December 27

      by , 01-19-2019 at 10:34 PM
      I am somewhere outside (Hawaii?), walking down the sidewalk along a small two way street. There are storefronts and shops all close together (reminiscent of Virginia City or maybe even Lahaina). I have a kid with me whom I am watching (Adrian?). I think Melissa is with me too. I think we’re looking for ice cream, so I’m not sure why we’ve just passed an ice cream shop. We may be looking for another option. This shop has a large open window type front, but the opening is filled with shelves. The wood shelves hold little tiki containers of ice cream. I think there are also other shapes, like coconuts. One of the tikis has a Stealie etched and colored into it. I see a few different types of chocolate with different names. We continue on, and on the other side of the street there is a fairly large and simple stage in the shade. We’re passing by it, and I start nodding my head to the music. I notice that the rhythm guitar player is playing the smoke on the water riff over this band’s song. Now Sage is here for a second? She says that Deep Purple only knows how to play fast (as if they wouldn’t know how to play slow). I jokingly ask her if she’s ever seen a Deep Purple acoustic album, then say no because they couldn’t make one or something. Now, Melissa, the boy, and I have reached a stretch of beach that ends in a calm body of water. I have my arm over the kid’s shoulders, in a fatherly sort of way. He is bigger than a toddler, probably closer to 5 or 6. I don’t think he is Adrian anymore. The kid feels like a family friend or someone close enough to where I can casually put my arm over him. I jokingly say something about Melissa and him getting in the water (like it’s going to be really cold). I let them go ahead, and they actually do get in the water. I didn’t think they would, but now I have to follow. I step in with my bare feet and find out that it’s really not that cold. I’m wearing shorts and a tie dye? tank top. I see a thick, white worm or caterpillar with a ribbed body clinging to some debris right under the surface. I then see another. They’re slightly gross. I now submerge myself, and we all swim for a bit. There is a playground structure rising out of the water; we all climb onto it. From up here, I see a cop car parked under some trees a ways off (it is dark out). I think he puts his lights on, but he start coming over here. He watches us, but I think he can’t get over here because of the water. I tell Melissa not to talk to the police. I also imagine talking to him and telling him I have the right to remain silent and not answer questions. Now when I look around it seems to be daylight, there is ground (with wood chips) under the structure, and quite a few other kids here, playing. Keegan’s mom is now up here, on top of a slide. She is worried about the police being here. She’s worried about her son (who is now Adrian again - I see him playing with other kids down below) and thinks it’s because he’s left alone or too alone. I look down at him, and he puts on a face like this is actually true, which irritates me because the exact opposite is true. I’m just about to tell her that I’ve actually been with him all day, but she slides down the slide.



      I am with Dad, Makayla, and Lily at Dad’s? house. I’m talking to them about something. I now have Lily lay down: I'm going to give her a guided meditation (for OBE?). I was going to have her lay on her back, but she lays on her side and says it’s comfortable enough. I think that it’ll still work.



      I am sport climbing with another guy. It must be a multi-pitch, as we’re currently anchored next to each other up here. It also must only be the first pitch, as it’s not too high up. The rock is a dark and fairly coarse granite. There is something about the possibility of a hold breaking? I get to thinking about it and think that a whole slab of the face could fall off. I’m sketched out about this, and I’m glad I’m not the first person that had to climb this. I think the other guy wants to fall?
    2. 16 Jan: Entering the Matrix and weird school

      by , 01-16-2019 at 08:39 PM (Lucid-schizo-dreamer)
      non-dream dream semi-lucid lucid false awakening


      I have a FA in Riverstone's room. It's dark and I can't find any lights, There is a flashlight but also does not work. I hear scary monster sounds. I go check what it is,
      I get lucid, but still feel a bit scared. I see a dark figure, think it is the monster, hit it with the flashlight. Light comes up and no monster, just kittens all over, even coming from inside the walls.

      Mom picks me up, there's a job opening for plant expert at some small company in our hometown. I need to fill an application. Some kids come by. One steals some documents that were on the table.

      Me and some others enter the Matrix with Neo. I think we formed some kind of army to free others. Entering the matrix was fun and psychedelic, like riding a roller coaster while swallowing matrix code. Once inside, we have really cool looks, but not all black like in the movies. We are wearing mostly shades of blue. I have a dress with a balloon skirt, but a bit too short and later I find some fabrics to use as an extra skirt and feel more comfortable. When we enter we find ourselves on some kind of crosswalk on top of buildings, like a suspended terrace and there is a sort of giant wave wall to our right that looks like a tsunami coming to hit us but that never does. It is mesmerizing.

      Then we go to some kind of school to train us and it was very posh, looks like an opera house. Even the bathrooms are so very fancy and vintage-y. There are some true geniuses among us. One black kid, seems as young as six, presents us with a music piece he had composed and although it wasn't entirely original and innovative, it was incredible anyway. I could recognize influences of Vangelis, the Blade Runner OST and some other electronic artist. Nobody else thought so, but the kid confirmed. I told him, it is so very well composed, but because it doesn't sound original, it is not amazing. "You have to find your own sound and then you will blow our minds". I wanted to be honest but still encourage him. He felt both pleased and ego hurt, which is normal.
      Some people don't like me much, maybe because I am some teacher's favorite and it always feels awkward when I enter a class late and the teacher acknowledged my presence instead of letting me quietly sit like with everyone else. Even when they seemed to be reprimanding me, everybody could feel they were actually happy to see me.
      Last day of school and we're packing clothes to go home. My dog Bernardo appears out of nowhere and he has one eye out gouged and I freak out. Then he starts making weird electronic sounds and I see his eye is bionic. I find a way to open up the side of his head and fix the wires to put back is eye in place.
    3. Thursday, December 20

      by , 01-03-2019 at 11:45 PM
      I am in some building that feels like maybe a school or somewhere with some offices in the back. I’m waiting in the wood paneled hallway, waiting for the man inside the office to finish up with someone. The other person leaves, inciting a silence to take over. I peek my head through the doorway and see the man focused on some work on his desk. I really hate to interrupt this, but I slowly enter and ask if he has a moment. He says yes and waits kindly for me to talk. I slowly tell Bill Kreutzmann, addressing him by his first name, “thank you.” He seems to get rather emotional, and tears appear in his eyes. This causes me to become a little emotional as well. He tells me that means so much to him and that no one’s ever told him that before. I try to lighten it up a bit by saying something like ‘thank you for just fuckin’ playing the drums in a band that means a lot to me.’ We talk a bit more, and I end up leaving here with him. We approach a car, his, in the lot, where another man asks Bill about me. Bill says I’m fine, the other man nods, says I’m ‘in’. Bill now drives us, me in the back, to some type of shopping center. I’m out of the car with the door still open when Bill comes over, and I ask jokingly if I’ll need any of these, gesturing to three Grateful Dead shirts laid out on the bench style seat (and a backpack of mine - the backpack I had in middle school?) He chuckles and says no. I mention how I have the three, the first with ‘Grateful Dead’ in a large font, the second a tie dye, and the third a grey one (thinking of the grey one I have with the skull and glasses). We now walk into a building here. Once inside, I lose track of Bill and the other man. There’s quite a few people walking around in here. I awkwardly start walking around, until a man by a doorway gestures to me, seemingly knowing what I’m looking for. I go through the doorway, and it is now clear why we’re here. This large living room sized room has a stage at the far wall. The drum set takes up a large portion of it (maybe a quarter of the stage, though it’s centered). There are a few rows of picnic styled tables here. The lighting is dim and blueish. I deduce that Bill is going to be playing with a band here tonight. I think that it’s a weekday and I hadn’t planned on being out late, but I’m fine with it. The few tables are mostly full, but I look for a spot, doubling back once. I then find a spot at the end of one closer to the door and have a seat. A girl (someone I knew from high school?) has her knees on the bench and the rest of her body bent over the top of the table. She then slides back down, leaving less room by me. I look amongst those seated and notice Ian and some other familiar faces from high school. They’re singing “god don’t play dice with the universe” with a sort of subtle communal fervor. It irritates me that these ‘cooler’ kids are capitalizing on something that a less popular person, like myself, genuinely likes. Now, I (and maybe 1-2 others) am lying on the ground in front of the stage. The stage seems very tall from down here. The ground seems very soft, more like carpet or grass. I am flat on my back, with my eyes closed. I think I am paying attention to sensory input and getting slight OBE feelings/perceptions.




      I’ve gone into some store with Melissa. I’m not sure if this building is standing alone or entered into from another building. The place seems to sell only craft beers as well as wine. I look all over for a certain beer (Moonraker?) but do not see it anywhere. I think I ask someone, and he doesn’t see any either. I think I’ll just pick up two six packs that were on sale, something like 2 for $6, because it’s a good price. I go to grab it and can’t find it. I look all over again and still don’t see it, so I just grab a Hop Valley IPA that’s the same deal. The cans look like pints and are grey with a fairly plain label.
    4. Thursday, August 30

      by , 12-29-2018 at 02:38 AM
      I have gone into Discology. It is a completely different building; the walls seem dark in color and there are a few rows of low, black shelves. David starts talking to me about how he rearranged things? He also has a proposition for me or something like that. I start looking in a shelf and see four Doors records. They have the look of an older pressing that’s been around a while but taken care of. All are familiar expect one; this one is a copy of Strange Days with a completely different cover. I don’t think it says Strange Days anywhere, but somehow I know. It kind of has a lot of things going on, part of it being a car or two and a side profile of Ray. I think about getting it just to have this different edition. I also see some classical. There are a few with thick covers of a solid color [that are actually in the store, as of last time I was in]. I think he’s moved them to this more accessible spot, probably so they can be seen more. I find a multiple LP set of classical performed by a woman composer. It looks near mint, the cover and discs, and is labeled as $1-$2, so I keep it. I’m guessing the price is based on how many of the discs you take? I go to pay for it, but David looks like he’s getting ready to leave, so I’m just going to leave two dollar bills on the counter by his computer.



      I am somewhere inside where there are a lot of people milling around. The vibe seems pretty happy. I see some members of the Grateful Dead among the crowd. One is Jerry (his appearance is like that from the late 70s), what I go up to and say ‘how about a Dark Star to open the second set?’ He seems to think it’s a good idea. I then let Bobby? know. I think Donna is here as well. It doesn’t really seem like I’m in the band, but it does seem like I have some influence. Later, the band comes on and Jerry starts a Dark Star but it is soon overridden by one or more others in the band. I’m a little disappointed.
    5. 7 Dec: Italian mafia movie, tourism and a rich friend's mansion

      by , 12-07-2018 at 11:25 AM (Lucid-schizo-dreamer)
      non-dream dream semi-lucid lucid false awakening

      I dream I am watching and at the same time living in the flesh an Italian movie about a guy who adopts two orphan boys about 2 years old. It is lovely and adorable, until a mobster wants to settle an issue with him and kidnaps the boys to raise them as his own. He tries to make them copies of himself, so they are dressed like little gangsters and he takes them to see all about his business, including whacking other people. The kids are becoming traumatized and insensitive.
      One day their father comes to rescue them with a bunch of men and shoots the gangsters when they were about to climb some staircase to enter a building. One of the kids is so traumatized that he runs away from is daddy, crying, but some of the rescuers go after him. The other kid stands still without a reaction, but when his dad comes to him he bursts into tears and says "papi" (although that's spanish). I also cuddle the poor kid.

      Doing tourism with my mom in Italy. Drivers are just insane, speeding on tight alleys, almost hitting us. We hear a crash. I fly over the houses to get a view. It's a truck with vegetables who went over the pier and landed on a boat. The driver can't believe it. Meanwhile my mom arrives and wants to help him by buying him vegetables, but I don't think it's the best time to do it.
      We go to the historical city center, crazy ladies put pots with plants outside their doors, basically filling the narrow alleys with obstacles on which we trip for a couple of times. We enter a very cute restaurant which is also a b&b and I recognize it from having stayed here before. My mom confirms she recognizes it from pictures. I go talk to the owner and they say I left a big bottle of hemp oil when I last checked out from here. I had been worried the customs would not have allowed it, but this time I will try to take it back with me.

      I am staying at some rich friend's mansion. She is an Asian video artist. She shows me a video clio she did for an H&M campaign, very conceptual with people swimming in the sea and a centaur swimming with them, that becomes a horse on land. She says it wasn't picked up by the brand, because they didn't get the meaning, which was none. I said I liked it, even without any meaning, it was trippy and inspiring.
      She puts down the usb pen with some of her work and we check for some paintings I left in her house last time. I promise to take them with me this time. They are hideous and amateur, but she encourages me to continue doing it. Then she notices the pen is gone and freaks out. I say the only person I saw coming in was a certain guy, part of her team and she goes look for him in the studio. She is furious because she knows he wants to steal her ideas and undermine her work. She yells at him and they begin a nasty discussion,
      I decide to go check the rest of the house. Her amazing kitchen is on a hanging deck over a cliff, with glass walls with view to the town underneath. There's a large spiral stair to a garden below. From the garden, there is a large entrance to a lounge area where I encounter some of her friends chillin'. One of them says he found a recording of me singing a Grease medley and he wants to play it for everybody to listen. I say no, no, I am embarrassed, but he assures it is really good and they should hear. They are VIPs and might help me launch a career, but I run away to hide under a staircase. Another lady, also Asian, comes to sit by my side with lots of bags, says she is leaving for her flight, but feeling very tired and asks to rest her head on my lap for a while. Then some guy looking for me asks me to join back the group, he insists they really liked my recording. Along the way he sings bits of the song, trying to trick me into singing, but there are people all the way on the hallways and I just can't sing in front of people. He understands. Says we will just be watching another friend athlete on tv and not bother me with the singing.
      We watch her on some competition. She is also Asian, very pretty and with some very original outfit and hairdo, unlike anything I have ever seen in sports. At first I thought she was doing pole vault, but then realize it is some kind of new modality, in which athletes gotta climb a kind of metallic ladder reaching the highest possible step, with a minimum jumping movement, like cats do. I think she breaks a record and everyone is celebrating.
    6. Talking with my Father (and Grandfather) at a Public Venue

      by , 10-23-2018 at 10:28 AM
      Morning of October 23, 2018. Tuesday.

      Dream #: 18,936-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min. Readability score: 69.



      I am at the Concordia Ballroom in La Crosse. (My father often performed publicly here when I was very young.) There is a service counter at the east end of the hall (a fictitious orientation, as it was on the north end). My father is sitting behind it. (I do not recall that he had died in 1979). His father is standing to his right but appears as being much younger than my father. (I do not focus on the absurdity of the scenario.)

      My grandfather is talking about the history of our family. During this time, I am trying to connect wires so that both speakers will play music. The one on the far left is working, but the far right one is not. I hear sound only in my left ear. I wrap the clusters of wire around each other. There are many that stick out from different areas of the plastic coating. My father looks on as I do this. I am wary of touching certain ones together, but in reality, it would not matter, as there is no electrical current. I spend several minutes doing this, starting over a few times.

      I sincerely tell my father how much I enjoyed singing with him when I was a boy.

      My grandfather speaks of a fictitious family history meant to be the truth. I remain puzzled about the details, but I do not say anything. Supposedly, my father’s mother’s name was Boyat (unfamiliar to me). She was famous and had an artificial knee. (In reality, the name was Ruland and appears in a book about Tecumseh.)

      Eventually, the right speaker starts working. When this happens, I absentmindedly but dramatically run off to the far end of the hall. I enter a bedroom where Zsuzsanna is sleeping. I leap into the air and fly a short distance. I try to wake her, as it is supposedly late in the afternoon. (In reality, she is awake, and I am asleep in my dream.)



      There have been numerous dreams of connecting wires. It seems to indicate a subliminal attempt to become lucid or connect with my current conscious self identity. I hear the sound in my left ear, which is dream state orientation, as I sleep on my left side with my right exposed to the real environment, so having the full connection would initiate conscious awareness within my dream.

      In this dream, I become more subliminally aware of being in the dream state, but I do not achieve a viable liminal or lucid understanding that I am dreaming. Still, I automatically enter the usual vestibular system correlation stage by leaping and flying in dream state indicator space; the bedroom where Zsuzsanna is sleeping. Up until then, I had no recall of my current conscious self identity. I wake shortly after this. Before I am awake, I see patterns of an offset dream forming to my left, which mostly shows laundry, and I consider it is “correct” in being down to the left.


    7. Unison

      by , 10-04-2018 at 04:07 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      The dream starts out with a scenario very much like the waking one I must have just left: having trouble getting to sleep. I’m initially on a thin mat on the floor of a room in a house, in a sleeping bag, but I give up and move the sleeping bag to the couch, where I do finally manage to fall asleep.

      The dream I subsequently find myself in is a lucid one. It went on for long enough to where entire segments of it have faded from memory, and I’m no longer entirely sure whether I have the order of the things right. But here goes.

      The earliest parts, probably, were of flying over a city at night. I’m just looking around, observing my surroundings. I spot a brightly lit area—tennis courts—and fly down. But as I’m getting close, the lights suddenly turn off, leaving me in the dark. I imagine my wings—which I’ve been doing without until now—and use them to propel myself up from just above the ground. But not long after that, I figure that it might be better to walk—there are people I’m looking for here, and it might be easier to find them down there. So I land and continue going that way.

      This city seems to be a modern one, and the area I'm in is well lit. To my right, I spot a large building that looks like a hotel, and further on is another one. No people around, though. I pause to examine some graffiti carved into the gray paint of a metal pillar, possibly supporting an overpass. Most of it is illegible scribbles, but I distinctly read the name “Joseph”.

      Nobody else seems to be walking around. I do eventually spot some people (specifically, four guys and a ferret) through the glass-walled corner of a building and have a brief conversation with them, but it seems to cut off partway through, and I find myself as a disembodied point of view, looking at a bunch of grapes. They’re hanging on a vine that’s grown around a tree in a forest. I remember reading something on Dreamviews about being able to play with the perspective of visual imagery—and there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to visualize that well while awake, so I figure I’ll try it now. I find I can change the angle just by intending to, can zoom in and have a closer look. Even close, it looks incredibly realistic.

      But before I can get even closer, there’s another transition, and I find myself in a house. I’m near a large window—I can’t see anything outside since it’s light inside and dark outside, and it just looks black, but I figure I’ll jump through it and see what happens.

      I jump straight through the glass as if it wasn’t there and find that what I saw before was actually accurate—there really is nothing here but featureless darkness. I don’t even seem to have a body anymore. I consider the situation. I’m not worried about waking up: I recall that I spent quite a while lying awake before this—having correctly remembered my waking life circumstances rather than mistaking the dream I fell asleep in for real, which isn't always what happens in these situations—and so I’ll still be catching up on sleep.

      The idea occurs to me to sing a song, one I remember singing in choir when I was a kid. I then think that it’s kind of a silly song—why would I want to do that? But no, it’s better to go with my first thought. It’s probably the right one—it’s better not to second-guess this kind of thing. And so I sing it there.

      Long ago, in a far off land,
      Lived a child who loved to sing.
      She opens up her fragile heart,
      And the song, it takes wing…


      Although it’s not exactly like I’m singing it, since I still seem to be somewhat disembodied. I’m surprised by how good my voice sounds here, though. It resonates in a way I wasn’t expecting in a space that appears to be a complete void.

      At some point after that, after some unknown transition, I seem to be in the same house as before, just looking around. It has multiple floors, and above one staircase, I find what appears to be a clock playing a waltz-like melody. It sounds a bit like a calliope.

      As I listen, it occurs to me to try another experiment. I clear my mind, getting everything else out of the way, then wordlessly sing, improvising a melody that might come after what I've already heard. And I find that what I'm singing exactly matches the tune the calliope clock is playing. It's as if, one way or another, we’re drawing from the same source, which is fascinating. So it is just me after all.

      There’s quite a bit that happened after that, most of it involving the man who lived in the house—but, unfortunately, I can only remember the very end, as he was walking out. Shortly after that, I wake up.

      (3.10.18)
      Categories
      lucid
    8. Most LDs In One Night Ever! - September 29

      by
      ZAD
      , 09-29-2018 at 06:14 PM (ZAD's DJ)
      Sep 29 2018

      Background - i didn't get nearly enough sleep during the week (b/t 5 and 6.5 hours a night) so i haven't had lucids since last sunday and have only been remembering 1-2 dreams a night on avg. so maybe this was sort of an extended REM rebound effect? i didn't sit down to meditate (although at many points i made myself hyper-aware) or visit the bathhouse, but anyway i remembered to do math in most of my lucids, got to talk to my dream guide (or it felt like it), and got my subconscious to play music. p. cool night!

      3 NLs - before waking at 5:30 (went to sleep 11:45) (fortunately i wrote all of these down)
      * in 9, my parents are talking to "Mr Jeff" in the front porch, talking about walking sticks as "staves", they examine one i found in the forest when we went to the cabin at the beginning of august
      * in 8, seeing an older woman out of the apartment who had just helped F and I with something or was maybe just visiting. she has the body of a younger person but has surface-level wrinkles, almost like they're a painted-on texture with no depth (they're white) and I think she even had black hair. but her skin also looks quite dry. she reminded me of one of my neighbors who walks two dogs
      * in 512 (grandpa's house) with F and my dad. F and I are sitting at the dining table across from each other, dad is to the right. i have tea and she has water, my dad asks for some of my soft drink because there's some rule that anytime i have soft drinks he gets a portion (he used to do this IRL too ;_ but i tell him i'm drinking tea and that i don't (or barely) drink soft drinks anymore, he points out a detailed list of times i've had soft drinks over the last year. i'm eating a wrap and unexpectedly i see a splotch of guacamole getting pushed out of the top like a tube of toothpaste, i lick it so it doesn't fall and i can vividly remember the taste - it was spot-on. really good guac!

      LD 1 - WILD after WBTB - after lots of HI coming close to successful WILD, finally it's sort of like an FA, in bed, can see light coming through curtain, sit up and move curtain (feel body shift into dream body). It's light out, I look around, look at body and try to transform, wake up. go back to sleep pretty quickly after that

      LD chain 2 - WILD, DEILDs, and DILDs - too many so I'll only write summaries - didn't write all of these down because after finally waking from the chain I just dove right in to the second chain
      * walking outside in area between 9 and neighbor's house, asked subconscious for music to play, got some symphonic. it came and went, but as it faded I would conduct it with my hands and it would get louder. after a bit the music changed to a medium tempo pop instrumental and I conducted it as well. I was focusing on the sight/sound/touch sensations involving the wood fence, white lattice, the foliage, grass, swingset, etc. very vivid
      * converted FA in 8 bedroom, summoning big cuddly dogs (F's grandma has a big dog so whenever we go over there like we did yesterday, I cuddle with it); in the dream they're very warm, i'm starting to feel temperature more in dreams whereas before with touch i would only feel pressure; one of my goals is to actually feel the bones inside my hands and the muscle contractions
      * something with F in 9, can't remember details now...
      * morning daylight scene, approach white service van and enter, there's a moldy (not really decomposed but with a green patina almost?) girl in the back sort of under the carpet (skin sort of the texture of the under-carpet material in floor boards) I try to move her head and her fully black eyes open, I kiss her (or do CPR?) and every time I do she blows air at me, weird weird weird wtf
      * there were a lot more (i'm getting vague impressions of more FAs and maybe one more outdoor one), they're just lost on me -- i'm giving it time and hopefully i'll catch a few more during the day

      LD chain 3 - WILD, DEILDs, and DILDs - too many so I'll only write summaries - had these after a brief wakeup and pee
      * met dream guide as pudgy girl (reminds me of an outgoing version of F's little cousin), talked to her about my thoughts and whether she was real. I didn't ask my subconscious for the dream guide, I just saw her and knew -- i asked "are you my DG?" and she said yes, we held hands and walked through a crowded mall and talked for a bit.
      * fight/murder in crack, blame - there are two men and a woman, the man and woman are fighting (they're married?) on a second-story floor with long cracks perpindicular to the hallway, so that you can see through to the first story (long fall); the second man walks up and says something to the first man that makes him jump through the crack. the woman is distraught but turns to the second man (her lover?) for comfort. at first i'm a semi-lucid observer but after this i summon my dream guide and he shows up in a doorway behind me as a tall built older man, feel his sides (like obliques) through shirt and they're warm. he says it's the only way he could get to me (like KPAX sort of - why is a soap bubble round) (when I first see him I saw other girls who looked similar but definitely different to the girl DG from before, their eyes were different)
      * red curtain in parent's bedroom and transition scene - cool technique where I was looking in a mirror and I summoned a huge red curtain and threw it sort of over and around me and wrapped myself in its suspended self to transition to the next dream, however the next dream was somehow "too small" and so it faded quickly as I couldn't get a grasp on it
      * lost a lot of these too... will keep trying to recall

      as i lay in bed trying to recall and recount these dreams, i'm perfectly still, when i finally do try to move there's heavy resistence and then a snap! and i awaken, it turns out i had been in a detailed FA the whole time, as a result I lost some of the lucids. before waking I could recall 13 lucids total. not too bummed though as I'm sure I'll have a lot tomorrow night too!
    9. “Baby Driver”

      by , 09-15-2018 at 05:35 AM
      Night of September 13, 2018. Tuesday.

      Reading time: 1 min. Readability score: 62.



      Vestibular system correlation begins as my dream begins, which is semi-lucid but allowed to render randomly, as I do not make a willful attempt to orient or give willful detail to any of the patchy space. However, a common thought at this stage is choosing the setting of being on a bus, which is not as expansive a process as a helicopter or airplane (or flying unaided).

      So the setting stabilizes as a bus, seemingly in late afternoon, but I am not corporeal, as I have not fully “stepped in,” though I am on the right of the bus driver’s seat. There is no driver. An empty child safety seat (baby car seat) is atop the empty bus driver’s seat, closer to the steering wheel. The bus is moving in a setting that seems like an ambiguous mix of a bullring (bullfighting arena) and a Nascar venue. Although it is driving itself, my dream self is still liminally controlling its direction and speed.

      The Paul Simon song, “Baby Driver,” is loudly playing from an undetermined source, diffusing through the environment. There is an enhanced awareness of energy and activity. I start to feel very amused and cheerful by the absurdity of the scenario. Most members of the audience are cheering and throwing confetti as the bus circles the area.

      I start to wonder why the Paul Simon song emerged, as I had not heard or thought of it in years. Still feeling cheerful, I decide to come out of my dream.


      Categories
      lucid
    10. In a Dark Place

      by , 09-09-2018 at 02:45 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      There is a woman—some dark entity had reached out for her, badly frightening her. She has shut herself away somewhere to get away from it, but it can still reach her. I can hear her screaming there—but I’m on my way to help her.

      The first thing I have to do is get out of a sort of wooden elevator running down the center of the building. I seem to have entered this way, going down, but none of the doors are opening. Somehow, I can see perfectly fine into the space beyond the shaft, but the walls are definitely there, and the doors are not only solid but quite heavy. I’m alone here in the elevator, but in communication with someone else—someone I know to be my mother, although she isn’t my actual, waking life mother. She seems to be playing some kind of guiding or teaching role.

      Above my head, everything just fades into darkness, like the heights of a cavern. Apparently, it doesn’t occur to most people who come here to look up for a while, and so this comes as a bit of a shock to them, but I can remember having been through this series of events before, and so this place holds no surprises for me. Besides that, I have access to a deeper understanding of the space I’m in: it’s defined by solfege, as if the intervals and their syllables are acting as some kind of abstract structural parameters, and they are also structuring what I am able to do in it and do to it.

      Once I finally manage to get out, I find myself in what seems to be an iteration of my old house in M---. This version looks twisted, hollowed out, dark—actually, there doesn’t seem to be a source of light anywhere, which would explain why, even though I feel vividly present here, it has an odd visual quality to it, and the only non-black color I can see here is blue. I’m using night vision. The blue is brightest in the fog hovering throughout the house, moving as though stirred by currents of air. When this fog is concentrated, it indicates the presence of a ghost—or perhaps it simply is the ghost.

      This whole place gives off a decidedly creepy vibe—a palpable sense of decay and malevolence. But the fact that I already know where all the dangers are takes the edge off the creepiness, as does the fact that this seems to be a case where there is no outcome but success. I already know things are going to turn out fine, and so I don’t let the place bother me too much.

      Now the person who is my mother is physically here with me, a couple rooms away—although, either because the walls are in ruins or because I can see through these ones too, she’s still visible from where I’m looking around the living room. Nothing much seems to be happening at the moment. I’m just keeping an eye on the blue fog. There are some mirrors there in the room: I use them to check my form as I practice jumping from side to side, moving between stances I might need to use later.

      (7.9.18)
    11. Saturday, June 30

      by , 08-28-2018 at 09:28 PM
      I am at a Dead and Company show with Dad and one other guy, probably a family friend. The venue is on a grassy and sandy slope down to the ocean. Down towards the bottom of the slope, I can see the off-white top of the tent (kind of like Shoreline) in which they’re playing. Most of it is hidden by the incline. At times, I can see the band, but it is intermittent for whatever reason. There are also waves breaking that make their way up the slope and I think into the tent. I end up briefly talking with someone I know, before making my way down the slope. The band has started, and I dance as I walk. I think a few people look at me, but they are smiling. I’m by the tent now, and it looks more like a small seaside bar or café. You can walk right into it. Some people are doing just that, but they’re getting kicked out, as they are too close to the band or too much of a nuisance. The atmosphere other than that is very laid back. The band, in a single small room, laughs and chats while tuning up between songs. I think the drum kit is in a room separate but still connected to the other. Bill Kreutzmann is here, but he is just hanging out while another, older man plays the drums. It seems to me that Bill is unable to play tonight for whatever reason. I start talking with this other drummer, but it ends up being me talking to Bill, with him either on the drums or right by them. For a moment, I’m self conscious of taking up time if they’re playing music, but they’re taking a while between songs anyway. I ask Bill, prefacing the question with me knowing that it sounds like a typical fan thing to stay, how he would feel about playing Liberty. I am self conscious of my voice as I am speaking. He looks as if he’s really thinking about it. I mention how it would be fitting since it’s so close to the 4th of July. I also wonder if they’d play it mid-set or for the encore. Bill says he’s not sure, because he never really got the pace of the song and his playing was never really coherent on it. I think of versions I’ve heard and guess I could see it. He tells me that’s why they started playing [something with a longer name] in ‘94 and ‘95. This song is, I think, similar to Liberty in tempo and lyrical theme. I nod, thinking of my notes of shows, not sure I’ve ever actually heard it. I think he sees the uncertainty in my nod and briefly wonder if he’s thinking that I’m not that versed in the music, but I know I’ve listened to a fair amount of their shows in that era. (Whatever the name of the song was, it’s not an actual song they’ve done).
    12. In Square Spiral

      by , 08-23-2018 at 10:47 AM
      Morning of August 23, 2018. Thursday.

      Reading time: 42 sec. Readability score: 66.



      In my dream, I am in an unknown setting, finding myself wandering around in an ambiguous inside-outside feature. (That is, I seem to be outside and inside at the same time. It is a dream awareness, quite common, that I cannot consciously resolve.)

      I am mainly near a structure that models Ulam’s spiral. I walk along an outer wall. I see Christopher Franke standing near one corner and talking about a particular song. I have a vague but incorrect memory that Tangerine Dream did the soundtrack for “The Bermuda Depths.” Another male is playing a keyboard. It is supposed to be a live commercial or promo, but Christopher forgets the name of the song, though is not angry. He is cheerful about the mistake.

      I continue to go inward around the square spiral. I know I will probably see Christopher again near (and before) another turn. As I approach, I know he is dressed differently, promoting a different song. I know there will be additional versions of him near other corners. I do not consider this unusual.


    13. My Strange Music Video

      by , 08-12-2018 at 08:59 AM
      Night of August 12, 2018. Sunday.

      Reading time: 1 min 29 sec. Readability score: 73.



      I had made a music video of one of my songs. An unknown male happily praises my work, saying how “perfect” it is. I had supposedly not seen it for a long time.

      The video recording is somehow on an audio cassette. (I have not recorded on audio cassettes for years.) I notice that the tape, in a cassette deck about three feet below the monitor and vertically oriented, had been left near the middle and I remember that not having a cassette tape rewound when not in use exposes the surface and might cause wow and flutter and damage the area. I start to play it, but it is about a minute into the song, so I rewind it to the beginning of the video.

      “My” song turns out to be a strange version of “Sloop John B.” It mostly features me standing and singing in front of the sides of old ships. I am singing out of key. My voice is wavering and is annoying. Not all the words are the same as the original song, but I eventually make out, “So hoist up the John B’s sail. See how the mainsail sets.”

      In the last scene, I notice a cannon pointed towards the viewer, on the right of where I am standing in a closeup shot from my chest up. It appears to be protruding from behind a tarpaulin.



      My dream is a typical mix of associations that are unrelated. The main idea comes from sailing, as I had been using the word “oneironaut” (“dream sailor”) in some dream-related essays I had recently been writing. (Boats and water occur regularly in my dreams as it is.) Another word I had been using recently is “canon,” though related to known facts about my dreaming history. (In contrast, there are photographs from when I was about four, where I sat astride a cannon in a park.) Being the video’s last scene, it is the reactive representation of the cessation of the dream state. (Additionally, it may be a phallus association that reflects a need to wake and use the bathroom). In real life, I had recently made a video of a recent track of mine, but there are no vocals.


    14. Another New Way of Making Music

      by , 07-25-2018 at 08:03 AM
      Morning of July 25, 2018. Wednesday.

      Reading time: 1 min 25 sec. Readability score: 64.



      Throughout my life, I have had numerous dreams in which I produced music using a surreal method. Some that were significantly more abstract involved my body becoming different musical notes in a series as I remained in bed.

      In this dream, I have a setup where I make music videos for people based on video content they give me or notes on where to find the content. I produce this music by using a machine that looks like a filing cabinet.

      I am creating three different tracks (two of which are similar), but two have minimal content and are only eight bars in length. I focus mostly on a reggae track that only has a kick, high hat, and a horn. The horn motif is mostly the same note, but with different duration. I am contemplating the addition of a snare, but I do not get around to adding one.

      I arrange the music with each note of each instrument serving as a folder in the filing cabinet drawer. The rendering of the music begins from the front of the filing cabinet drawer. The lowest frequency of each beat is first in each sequence. The usage of timing and rhythm (implying sheet music format) involves reading each note from the bottom of each beat section (that the high hat indicates), moving up. For example, there would be a kick “folder,” followed by a few horn “folders,” followed by several high hat “folders.” It does not sound like a recording I have heard in waking life.

      Before I wake, I am seemingly adding sixty-fourth “notes” between a few others that are probably eighths. However, I am likely adding sixteenths amidst eighths instead as I am not thinking clearly. I assume that because each folder features a couple of straight parallel indentations on each side, above where it folds. That would logically make it a sixteenth note. (A sixty-fourth note would have four such indentations.)

      Curiously, my method of the folder placement in the drawer seems correct, although it would be difficult in reality. I do not see any sheet music to aid in the validation of the arrangement.


      Updated 07-25-2018 at 08:43 AM by 1390

      Categories
      non-lucid
    15. Greensleeves, Green Door

      by , 07-13-2018 at 01:18 AM (The Fourth Factor)
      As usual, I find myself lucid in a dream without being able to remember how it happened. I am on a stage, a raised platform at one end of a tall, rectangular room with no windows and a door at the far end—picture a racquetball court and you’ll have a pretty good idea of the layout and size. The area where I am is lit while the area where the audience is sitting is darker, with some light shining in from the doorway.

      I’m singing up here and simultaneously trying my hardest to get my bouzouki to show up so I can accompany myself on it. I look around the stage area periodically, whenever I get the chance, but it just doesn’t seem to be turning up. I notice a couple guys in the audience heading for the door. Annoyed, I will them back to their seats, but they seem to sense what I’m doing and bolt. Oh, well.

      In the meantime, though, my efforts to materialize myself some accompaniment seem to have paid off. There is now an array of stringed and fretted instruments in the center of the stage, a dozen or so, leaning against stands or lying on chairs. Many of them are exotic instruments I don’t recognize, and unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a bouzouki among them. I settle for the closest match— some kind of lute, judging by the angled neck and larger body. Maybe I can intend it to have a string configuration I can work with. I pick it up and sit down in the chair it was on to play. I was singing “Greensleeves” before, and so I start again from the beginning, this time accompanying myself.

      Alas, my love, you do me wrong
      To cast me off discourteously…

      This is more like it. It seems to work best if I don’t focus too much on what I’m doing with my hands and let it take care of itself, like a spot of localized non-lucidity.

      Partway through the song, though, I find myself in another room—there seems to be a small memory gap, but I’m guessing this was a false awakening I managed to identify as another dream straightaway. This room is very similar to the one I was just in—it could be the same one if not for the lack of a raised stage area and the fact that there is now a door where the opening was. It’s a metal door painted bright green.

      The room is empty apart from a mat on the floor which is furnished like a bed. Looking at it stirs faint memories of sleepovers with friends—nice memories, ones I haven’t thought about in a long time. Much of the wooden floor is covered by a rug patterned with dragons—the Asian sort—in red, blue and green. As I look at it, they move and shift in mesmerizing ways, and the perspective flattens a little as the rug occupies my field of vision. I think to myself: I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming. I don’t want to get so absorbed in it that I lose awareness.

      I look away to consider the door and what might be beyond it. Thoughts come to me—memories, almost, if I took them more seriously—of rooms and people beyond. But that’s a rather serious-looking door.

      I wake up.

      (11.7.18)
      Categories
      lucid
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