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Night of November 8, 1985. Friday.

Dream #: 6,899-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec.



Vestibular stage: I feel as if I am in a southwest area of La Crosse, possibly near Third Street, but my dream’s rendering is erroneous. I am riding my bicycle, probably past midnight, through a mist with an eerie glow. I had not seen any other traffic.

I am enjoying myself. I pedal faster and faster even though I cannot see what is ahead of me, though I am vaguely aware I am dreaming. At one point, I am moving fast through an alley, heading west. Suddenly, I see another vehicle approaching from the north as I am exiting into an open area that seems adjacent to a small parking lot to the north as well as an intersection. My dream becomes more vivid, though the certainty I am dreaming increases only in the last few seconds.

Preconscious emergence (as authoritative): The vehicle is a small motorcycle with a police officer riding it. I cannot see his eyes because he is wearing dark sunglasses (an indicator that I am sleeping) or a face shield under a light-colored helmet, though I can see his mouth, which has no expression. I suddenly slow down so as not to draw his attention with my speed, especially as it seems we might collide. Even though the scene is otherwise vivid and realistic, he and his motorcycle seem scaled down to about half the size they should be. I slowly approach the intersection as he continues south, to my left and beyond, without turning his head towards me at any point. I wake after he passes out of sight. (There was no vestibular drop, only a vague awareness of the process as the motorcycle crossed my path.)

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The intersection offers three choices. I can turn left to follow the motorcycle cop (which I technically do with the waking process), keep going (keep dreaming), or turn right with the implication of returning to slow-wave sleep (so-called dreamless sleep). (The direction options are atypical as I am otherwise on my left side when dreaming vividly, not my right.)

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One Christmas, my father bought me a toy remote control police motorcycle with an officer riding it. My dreaming experience rendered its nature as too small and of an artificial essence (though those aspects are common to dreams).

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