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A few dreams though I only remember bits of them.

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Dream Fragment:

I remember being in a somewhat dark room and having a discussion with some people about age, in the dream I was around an age when my hair would start greying, starting at the front and just lightly. Mom was there and she commented on how it was just like her dad's hair. I remembered a photo of him that mom has kept in her home office for years since his passing. Then I remember seeing a mirror and seeing myself on it. I looked older but unimaginatively so, but my hair did look a lot like his, except for the fact that his would have curled slightly.

Dream Fragment:

Perhaps from another segment of the previous dream, but I remember something about trains and a kind of alien (Mars-like?) desert. Day time, clear sky. There were some really high-tech-looking trains and one such train went up a hill into a rounded futuristic building. I was with a group of people (friends?) and we were walking in the opposite direction, though I kept looking. The engine carriage separated and sort of shot off on its own along the rails and quickly hit an end-track bit, bouncing back and then hitting the rest of the carriages. It was some type of freight train, and its ornamental features matched that of the building, featuring a warm orange.

Dream Fragment:

Something about me or captain Picard, in a large office room of some kind. Other people both friendly and not-so-friendly were there, and we were there to ask for money I think. Starting at 30,000 but then the guy didn't want to give us any more, so then there was this little scene where Picard walked closer to him slowly and then started punching him very fast until the guy, who was also kind of old, fell down on a spiral staircase. He didn't go all the way down or anything, just a couple of steps on his back, because the degree between each step was very small (less than half foot?).

The staircase steps were marble and the handrail looked fancy, but I don't remember it in detail. I remember a woman speaking after this had happened and she said "well, now you have 25,000, since you have to take away 5,000 just for that". But then before the dream ended there was something about a million, I don't remember.

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Notes:
- Recently in waking life I'd been thinking about how I don't really ever remember seeing mirrors in my dreams, so I think that's partly what brought on one's appearance in the first fragment.
- Typically, despite being the result of a previous conscious thought during wakefulness, I did not realise the connection between the two things in the dream. This is happening quite a bit lately, which is frustrating at times. But it may just be that my recall is also decent lately, so maybe I just think I notice it happening more but it may just always happen this frequently and I haven't realised before.
- Featuring myself as being older may also come as the result of conscious thought from waking life, as I often question why I'm always my current age in dreams. Although in the dream, until the hair thing was made obvious by the mirror, I did just feel like my current age anyway.
- In the train dream, the group that was with me was a bit shocked with the collision, but I had been expecting it. The dream had a slight Borderlands feel to it.
- There was a fourth dream fragment also involving trains but in a completely different context. I can't put the visuals into words now.
- The dream with Picard may have just been some continuation of the first fragment. I'm really not sure anymore if these dreams were directly linked or not, because I don't remember any transitions and I had several awakenings this morning.

Morning of May 28, 2018. Monday.



I am in a setting that seems partly modeled after the Cubitis living room (last seen in real life in 1978). There is a computer set up in the southwest corner. It seems to be late morning. I am looking at pages in a newspaper. There is a short article (on the upper right of a page) of about three paragraphs written by someone with my surname. Their first name is Aueda (which is unfamiliar, though which is actually a distortion of my last name, with an extra “A” and no “L”, though my dream self does not realize this). I notice the name Tecumseh written a few times throughout the article. The person lives in New York. I tell Zsuzsanna that I am surprised Aueda is still alive, though this is by way of false memory, as I have no relative by this name as far as I know. In fact, I am uncertain of whether the person is male or female. Zsuzsanna seems to know it is a female even though she had not known of her previously.

“I did not know they were still alive,” I say, followed by, “They were born in the 1800s”. (This turns out to actually be 1907, but only assuming my dream self is aware it is 2018, though that is unlikely, as my non-lucid dream self typically has no idea what year it is or any viable temporality.) I use the computer for an Internet search. It turns out there is a very large and detailed photograph of her at her rural home in New York. I read that she is 111 years old. In the photograph, presumably recent, she is standing and facing the foreground. I report her age several times to a few different people who show up. I am amazed by her age. The photograph seems like it might be of Grace McDaniels (the “Mule-Faced Woman”), though my dream self does not consider this. Additionally, the surreal nature of her face is far more extreme than Grace’s. She appears to have a large pointed chin covered with small bumps as well as an additional section below her mouth of a different rough texture. She also seems to have large elk antlers growing from her head. (This was likely influenced by a strange movie called “Marker” that Zsuzsanna and I saw the other night, though also seems influenced by the character of Hela from “Thor: Ragnarok”, which we also saw recently, though again, the horns were like elk antlers.)

I look to the left and see a man, who I first think is her husband, lying on a couch inside their house. (This is illogical, as the main image of Aueda was taken outside, but the photograph implies the walls closest the camera are not present in the image, but are in “reality”.) Looking around, I see more detail, including a barn and a woodpile to the right.

An unknown male is suddenly standing behind me on my left asking me if he can use my computer to look up a different name, which is Helen Crowley. I do not feel comfortable with him using my computer, as the keyboard is difficult to use. (It is smaller than a real one, but my dream self does not consider this.) I consider that some of the keys can easily fall out or get jammed. I try to tell him about the difficulty of use (though I also tell him how I am familiar with how it us used as such) and that I do not want him using it, but he gets annoyed and walks away for a short time. Finally, I let him use it, though after typing in the name myself, while I get up and walk away from the area. (Helen is Zsuzsanna’s mother’s name as on at least one official document, though she uses Helene but pronounces it as Helena. Additionally, Crowley was a “King of Hell” character from “Supernatural”, so my dream is illogically mixing a lot of random details together, which is what dreams often do.) Before I get up, I notice all the people in the photograph are now walking toward a storm cellar while looking back at the viewer now and then (Aueda being the last one in the line). The image is now actually moving like a film.

Looking at the floor a little later, I see otherwise clear water with pink areas, much of it flowing out from under a table, and I wonder if someone had been ill, possibly bleeding, or had just spilled something. Marilyn (older deceased half-sister on my mother’s side) is present, though seems as she was in the 1960s. She says she had contacted someone about fixing the leak. She is standing against a table with her arms folded, firstly facing me, though I walk about looking at the pink water. As I look at her in profile as she faces left, I notice how her body and posture is impossibly distorted but I do not catch on that I am dreaming.

I go into other rooms (which are unfamiliar). I see and clearly hear water flowing everywhere, most of it clear and no longer with pink areas. I see a large laundry basket full of clothes somehow filling up with water nearly to the top (which is impossible as it would just flow out through the large square holes in reality). I also see that the otherwise shallow flooding is going into a room where I supposedly have a number of my books and journals. I walk back where Marilyn is and loudly say, “Everything I have is being destroyed. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Soon however, I realize I am dreaming and that I was liminally trying to return to deeper sleep (as water is my most common autosymbolism of dream state induction and reinduction, partly based, biologically, on the first months of life spent in the waters of the womb - in fact, I had been reading a comic book yesterday where a woman is pregnant and her waters break). I feel relief in waking up (though in reality, we did have a flood and rain inside the house when the roof was torn off last November and a lot of books were ruined, though not any of our journals).

---

NLD: I was a stage magician, a white male in late middle age. I have the impression that my character looked and talked a bit like the actor Bill Nighy. I had been doing a really long show -- it started at 6, now it was 9pm, I had just taken a break and had to perform one more brief act before I could wrap up and call it a night. I realized I should streamline the show, this was exhausting, and the audience was probably almost as weary as I was.

I was trying to find my way back to the place where the theatre was located in a huge new building that had been recently constructed for my show, but I took a wrong turn and found myself on the roof. Up there I ran into a colleague who resembled (or was supposed to be?) Gary Gygax, and we commiserated, "We're getting too old for this shit." I retraced my steps, passing a teenager who I asked about something, but his answer was unhelpful.

As I made my way back to the theatre I was carrying a large bag of stiffened canvas printed with a cheerful decorative pattern. I had picked this bag up from the room where I had gone on break. It held a nested series of ever-smaller bags made from the same material. I was planning to give these away as prizes at the end of the show, like we always did, based on calling out random ticket numbers. I wondered if I should give away the largest outer bag as well, or save it to carry the smaller bags again next time. I examined it closely and realized that it had some discoloration around the handle and decided that it wouldn't make a very nice prize because it wasn't in new condition.

9/21/2013, 10:00-5:50

I went to sleep, and meditated before doing so for like 15 minutes.

Dream 1:

I remember a giant monster-like creature. I was in Star Wars: Battlefront 2. I was trying to kill the creature.

Wake-Up:

At like 4:50, I wake up for a piss and drink. As I fall back to sleep, I try to mantra, "I will realize I'm dreaming when I'm dreaming."

Lucid Dream:

After about 20 minutes of laying in bed, I suddenly drift into sleep, and awake lucid (WILD! ). I don't really feel like getting up (figures), so I just try to make a sound. The thing I end up doing is trying to hear someone behind me say "Boo!" I think about it, and I hear a very high-pitched "boo" sound! I get frightened that it actually worked, and end up closing my eyes and waking myself up. I'm happy about this, because it's the first time I've managed to do something in a WILD!



9/22/2013, 10:00-7:00

I read Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming and meditated before sleep, and remember one dream:

Dream 1:

I was with Leela (and maybe Fry) from Futurama. We were trying to get to a base. There were these challenges we had to do. There was a hole we had to climb down with a ladder, which landed into a "wave pool" contraption. We made it to some markers and the waves suddenly stopped, revealing ladders to inside the complex we were trying to get to. I then remember going into the complex and into a large, white atrium, where there were two directions at the end; right and left. Me and Fry went left. We found our way to the owner of the complex, who we talked to, a bit aggressively. He said something about going to check the other room. We went over to the other room, where Leela was on a bed, dying from old age. There must have been a time warp. This made the dream sad.

Camera Project (7:06)

My sister needs to borrow my camera ASAP for a class project which I assume is due this morning. I give it to her somehow and head to my own class, Discrete Math. On the way I get a text from Mom saying that my sister has gotten really depressed about this project, since now she can't get the pictures off of the camera. I feel stupid for not realizing that she would need the CD to install the camera's driver onto her computer. I'm not even sure where that CD is, nowadays. I might have packed it in one of those boxes I've been meaning to send home. It'll take a while to find it for her. But that's actually okay, I suddenly realize, because I don't have class this morning--it's Monday, and Discrete Math is on Tuesdays. Today I don't have class until the afternoon. Only, maybe the project was already due, in which case I can do nothing to help. On the off chance it will do some good, I head back towards my dorm.

By means of a cutscene [or something], I see that Dad's given my sister a call, to say in no uncertain terms that he is totally unsympathetic to her plight. I also see that my sister is standing in a grassy lawn, crying, waiting for her boyfriend to come with roses and make her feel better. I think that's a bit of an immature thing to use a boyfriend for.

Old Folk's Home

I'm about to walk away from the building when I decide, regretfully, that I might as well go back there to practice viola. I don't like that building. That one weird professor lives in it, and it's basically an old folk's home. I turn around and walk back, noticing that there are a lot of string quartets and small bands rehearsing on the sidewalk, all in a row. Huh.

Inside, I wander around the building for a while. There is a shallow spiral staircase to the second floor. I feel old myself as I climb them, since my recent sickness has left me lethargic enough that I have to put both feet on each step. This frustrates me, so I decide to challenge myself and try the other staircase: a much steeper one going up the middle of the spiral staircase, with golden steps that are individually suspended on ropes from the ceiling. It turns out to be very hard, since there's nothing to stop the steps from swinging back and forth like so many swings. I have to grab a rope to prevent myself from falling off. One of the women working at desks on the second floor notices my plight and demonstrates proper use of the staircase. She has no trouble walking all the way down. But there's not really a trick to it; you just have to be very coordinated. I can't believe anyone thought that this staircase was a good idea. It seems dangerous. In describing this staircase, later, I call it a "Margo Walk."

Back on the first floor, I meet a nice old woman and her friend. As a test, the woman has us alternate numbers, counting to ten in German. It gets off to a slow start, because I was confused by her accent and I expected she was going to ask for Korean. Then I ask her how to say "forty" in German, because I only know twenty and thirty. [IRL: I didn't even know "thirty"; I was confusing it with "thirteen."] She seems confused, thinking that I should have asked how to say "forty-four," I guess because it's more fun to say. It's an interesting approach to linguistics, I suppose. She has to think a long time about "forty." Has she been speaking English for so long that she forgot her native language?

Then it's time for lunch, and as a group we set off for the dining room. I wonder if the'll want me to sit next to them. I decide not to risk being unwelcome, and I sit at the end of the table instead. Then I notice that somehow my place doesn't have a plate with food, while almost everyone else's does. I decide I'll just be patient, but in the meantime I'm worried that some of the people here will start fussing over me, thinking that my not having a plate is a dreadful tragedy, or something. I look around the table at the old faces around me, trying to reconcile myself to the idea of old age. I guess for the most part they're good-looking, in their own ways.

[I think I came back to this lunchroom on various other occasions. I began to feel a bit like a freeloader for eating lunch here almost every day, but on the other hand I would feel rude abandoning everyone just before the meal. And the food was pretty good.]

Are We Watching Porn?

Spoiler for sexual content:

I'm in the basement with a group of kids my age. There are about a dozen TVs down here, all showing similar videos. At first, the content is pretty innocuous. But there's this one video with two women. Somehow their clothes start disappearing, and somehow what they're doing is stimulating to one of the women. After a minute she gasps and says, "That was SO GOOD!" At this point, I'm a little confused and uncomfortable (and aroused); I thought these videos were about something else. Everyone else seems confused too; another guy asks, "Are we watching porn?" In response, a few people laugh. By now, everyone in all of the videos is naked.

Lucid?

[I remember that I was lucid at some point in the night. I was looking at a natural landscape and appreciating the detail. Then I tried to look upwards, and the lights dimmed and I lost all visuals.]

Stamitz Viola Concerto (9:23)

I'm talking to someone in the entrance hall of an old-ish building. I hear a viola behind me, and suddenly I recognize the music as the theme from the first movement of the Stamitz viola concerto. Sweet! I look around at the player, who turns out to be a forty-odd, balding man. I notice that he's playing the accompaniment parts as well, using double stops. For that reason, he's playing well under tempo. Also, sometimes he has to break a long solo note into repeated shorter notes, since the accompaniment underneath is changing. Wow, this guy's good. I feel very inept in comparison.

Ritual of the Children

I'm sitting in a common room when a girl comes in from outside. She starts talking to some friends of hers, telling them about a meeting she just attended with a famous person, who actually just sent out a tweet about the meeting that involved a play on words on the girl's name. She's pretty happy about this.

Later, I come back into the common room. The girl's already there. I sit next to her and try to start up a conversation. We talk about her name. Turns out her name is Sadie Hawkins, which is also the name of a type of school dance. I'm surprised I didn't make this connection the first time I heard it. I suppose that must be because I heard it in the context of a play on words. I try to explain this to her, but my explanation is something along the lines of, "Oh, I guess that makes sense, because . . . you know, it was . . . right?" Immediately afterward, I feel embarrassed for being so terribly awful at communication. I think I was afraid to explain it directly, because that would mean admitting that I eavesdropped on her conversation.

Then a bunch of ten-year-old kids come into the room and start doing a ritual. Then it's time for lunch, but we have time to shower first, if we want. I do want to, so I try to head down the hallway to the bathroom. But the entrance is like two feet too short for my head. I suppose this hallway must be reserved for the ten-year-olds. They have their own hallway? This is weird. Whatever. I go down the hallway to the left, which takes me to the bathroom.

It's dark in here, and crowded. I open the first door that I come to, but it's a toilet stall, not a shower. I keep looking for a shower, but instead I come upon a row of turnstiles in the right wall. The kids are lined up behind them, entering one at a time. If this is their entrance, then I probably went past the showers. And I'd better find one soon, because it will be even more crowded here before long.

Tropical Island

[I am awake at the beginning of this dream.]

I know that it is almost time to wake up, but I decide to see if I can fall asleep into a dream landscape of my choosing. [Sort of like a WILD, I guess, but I didn't use that terminology at the time.] I decide that I will attempt to enter the dream quickly by visualizing myself falling from a great height. I picture a field of rolling plains, and in the distance there is a tall group of rocks with almost vertical sides. I am at the top of those rocks, I decide. The view starts to zoom in on the rocks. I still feel like I'm just picturing this in my head, not dreaming it, which frustrates me. Eventually I zoom in on myself, and then I fall backwards off of the cliff. [I can't remember the details of the event.]

I've landed on a beach, in the surf, though it takes a few moments for me to get my bearings. Somehow this is not what I wanted to happen, but a voice tells me that I should be feeling very comfortable right now (seeing as how this is a tropical island), so I should try to enjoy myself. I wade into the water, but almost immediately I notice something floating in the water near me that looks like dog poop. Eww. I try to wade away from it, but a trick of the current seems to make it follow me. Once, I think I've gotten away from it, only to look again a moment later and find that it's back. Then I notice that there's a current under the surface that's making a lot of stuff collide with my legs on its way past me. Seaweed, perhaps. In any case, it's gross. This is not fun.

The Night of November 2nd / The Morning of November 3rd

It's been awhile since my last entry, but here we go!

Pre-knowledge:

I was originally going to wake up at 9:30am this morning because I wanted to workout. But when my alarm went off, I just went back to bed. I'm going to label any violent parts with RED.

The Dream:
I was driving a huge ship in a very tropical-like scene. The ship was made of wood, and was gigantic. It didn't have sails. It was powered by motor. There were a couple people on the ship with me, wanting to anchor at a beach to relax. I was driving the ship, where normally, a ship as big as that couldn't go, because of the depth, but I didn't really pay attention to that.

We found a small mangrove beach, and I parked the boat parallel to shore. I anchored the back end of the boat, then got out to anchor the front. It turned out to be a major pain to anchor it. I anchored it really tightly, because nothing else worked. A few seconds later, the back end of the boat swung out into the channel, because the anchor came undone. The boat started drifting away.

Luckily, one of the people was still on it, and I told her to drive. I sprinted along the beach, then dove into the water to catch up to the boat. I got on the back, but the girl was not good at driving. I was hanging onto the back end of the boat, as the girl was speeding around turns and rivers. I moved to the side of the boat, which was worse, because I kept getting thrown around. We eventually stopped.

It was just me and the girl. I seemed to be a much older, more powerful figure. I'm 18, I seemed to be in my late 20s/early 30s. The girl looked to be around 20ish. We were in a town. It was late afternoon, so the sun was setting, and it lit the town up with an orange tint. We were walking along an alley, which was actually kind of like a lowered sidewalk. Our shoulders were level with the road. There was also a triangular roof above us.

The girl was talking to someone on level with the road. She was questioning him about a man. I don't really remember who. Things were getting sketchier the longer we walked in this alley. People were open wielding guns, pressuring us to buy things, etc. One guy, who seemed really small (like midget size) bumped into me. He was carrying a brown paper bag. I saw a gun in the bag and I assumed he was part of a pickpocket group.

I grabbed his head, and thrust it into the wall. His head exploded everywhere. Someone on street level, outside the alleyway, started yelling something at us. The girl seemed to be disappointed that I did that. I don't remember why, but we started running. The lowered sidewalk turned into an actual alleyway. We couldn't see the street anymore and the roof was still above us. The buildings got smaller, and seemed to be made of clay.

It was sunset, and we ran to the end of the alley. The darkness parted, and I was kind of blinded by the sunlight. We were standing in an old playground I think. There was a broken, rusty swing set, and we were standing on mulch. There were black plastic barriers surrounding the area that were about waist high. It was completely silent. The swing set consisted of two swings. One of them was missing. The other, creaking gently as the wind played with it.

I looked to the left, and there was a man standing there. He had a large staff, which was made of metal, was probably taller than he was, and had some kind of pressure systems on the ends. The girl and the man exchanged dialogue, of which I don't remember. Then the man took a fighting stance, and so did the girl. I figured now was the time to beat stuff up. We started fighting, and the girl seemed to stay out of it. I was wailing on the guy, but every single attack I launched at him, he blocked with his staff.

After a few minutes of fighting, I hit the end of his staff with my palm. From the other end of the staff, a white dove came out and flew away. The man started laughing. I kept hitting the end of the staff with all force. The doves didn't just fly out, they shot out, like a cannon, depending on how hard you hit the end. Every time I hit it, the guy seemed to giggle, as if it was his plan.

I then decided to hit the end lightly, and the dove only shot about 4 feet into the air above us. I yelled to the girl to hit it. The girl had some kind of weapon. I wasn't sure if it was a gun or a slingshot, but the bird exploded as she shot it. Some kind of droppings fell to the ground, like an owl pellet. I opened up the pellet, and inside was an egg with some feathers. I snatched the egg. The man with the staff seemed to have disappeared.

The girl helped me up. Suddenly a man with some serious five o' clock shadow appeared with a cigarette in his mouth. He congratulated us in getting the egg. He asked for a private word with me. He said something about someone being better than me, as if he was my boss or something. He plunged his lit cigarette into my cheek and I woke up.