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Dream - Lucid

I was in the guest bathroom. The light was on. The counter was covered in colognes and stuff, but I also noticed that Dallas had put his brush in there for me to use. He must not have seen the new brush I bought for myself. I also guess he didn't want me to wake him up using our bathroom.

~

I was at Target, though I'm not sure if I was working there or not. I may have just been shopping. It looked as if they were completely remodeling the front of the store; I saw a lot of white walls and boxes. It didn't look like the Target I was used to at all; it really caught me off guard.

Cherie' was there at some point. Someone called her name, and she had been kinda close to me. She stopped and looked in the direction of the voice who called her. I only saw the back of her head, not her face. Her hair looked darker and wavier, but I knew it was her.

~

I was getting ready to go to school at the high school I attended. I was running behind schedule, however, and I was going to be late. I was at the house I grew up in looking in the pantry for something to eat for breakfast really quick. I found some Fig Newton cookies, two packages of them in fact, but they were being saved by someone else in the house, one of my friends who was also there though I can't recall who they were right now. Other than that, there wasn't anything I could eat for breakfast really quick.

I kept getting upset at my mom and whoever else was there, saying that I needed to find a place to write this paper that was due in my second class of the day, so I needed to get to school ASAP. I was telling them they didn't understand, and was starting to be a smartass. My mom was getting mad at me for getting so upset and being smart with her. I kept looking at the clock and seeing how late it was; I would never get to school on time.

When I finally got to school, the first class had already started. I saw people walking in the hallway from their lockers heading to their first class. It was weird though; not everyone was attending school that day, only the people who had a later start day for classes. The rest of the people had the day off, the ones who had started school at an earlier date that year.

I then had a thought about skipping class, that once people missed one class they could say "Fuck it" and just not go and not care. I didn't want to do that.

I kept stressing myself about the paper. I knew I needed to get to a computer quickly to write it up before the next class began.

My house is massive. Julian built a new kitchen with tall, exposed beams, dark wood floors, and red stools. There are random people there. Julian is on a lower level and someone is asking for his autograph. He looks up at me and then signs for her. She tries to kiss him and he kind of pulls away and gestures my way. I just laughed. I entered the stairwell (like in my junior high school) and all the entrances keep changing and I can't find my way back (House of Leaves). I finally find a floor that will let me out - and I'm on the opposite side of the kitchen than where I entered. That was nightmarish and should have triggered lucidity. At one point I'm having a conversation with others about the Id, Ego, and Super Ego. I admitted to talking to my subconscious while lucid dreaming (trigger - hello??!!!!!). Nice Kitchen, though.

Good morning, everybody. I remember two dreams from last night. The second dream occurred in a 15-minute space between my waking up to check the time and my actually getting out of bed.

Dream #1

I was in a forest or a park. It was a clear, autumn day. I stood with a small group of people who were probably around my age. We were hiding or just standing behind a tall tree like a poplar but with really ropy bark.

In a leaf-strewn clearing just beyond the tree, a woman was interviewing "the famous artist" Dylan Reed. He was either a poet or a punk rock singer. But he was generally known as a kind of rebel genius.

The interviewer started asking the man a series of questions based on something I had told her about a friend of mine who was also known as kind of a wild guy. The friend may have been among the group of people standing with me behind the tree.

I felt embarrassed that the interviewer was posing all these questions in such a way that they were obviously about my friend and they were obviously made to guve the impression that I thought badly about my friend. And, worst of all, they were posed directly to "the famous artist" Dylan Reed, of whom I thought so much!

The scene of the interview seemed to change from being in the forest or park to being in some kind of department store, possibly near the perfume section. The interview was now over, and the woman had walked away.

One or two friends and I were now trying to meet Dylan Reed, who was still milling around, all by himself. He seemed to be a tall, good-looking, white man, somewhat well dressed, with hair about down to his jawline. The perfume area was now something like an area displaying things like small luggage and bookbags.

Dylan Reed and my wild friend were something like the same person. My friends and I got a chance to speak with him. While my friends, in particular a pretty female friend, were speaking with Dylan Reed, I was thinking to myself how to make him understand that I didn't think about him in such a critical way as the interviewer had made it sound.
I may have been staring at a very nice, navy blue book bag up on a glass shelf. I may have seen it from a low angle, a child's point of view.

Dream #2

I walked through a very nice lobby like in a museum or a very big library. There were stone columns and walls, marble floors, and wide, curving staircases. A dim light flowed in from high windows. Some walls or portions of walls may also have been wooden.

I was particularly interested in a set of columns that looked "Egyptian," with very ornate, almost wood-like, carvings of fruit and tree-textures.

I was either walking with or meeting up with a woman about my age, possibly my old friend P. She told me, "I've been around this place since the mid-70s. So I've seen it really develop and change through the whole remodeling process." I was pretty impressed.

I am standing outside my house, looking around at the area. There is a lot of construction work going on in the house, it looks like they are adding large areas on to the existing building. I figure my mother has some reason for all the remodeling, though I don't remember what that reason might be. Since there is so much construction going on in the house, I wander around outside for a bit. It's like I never had looked around out there before, I wonder how things can be so unfamiliar to me since we have lived there for quite a few years. (For some reason this doesn't trigger a reality check! >.<) I walk over to the edge of our property, but instead of the fence I normally find there, I find a grassy ridge that blocks my view of the land beyond. I climb up the ridge, which is about eight feet tall, it's a gentle slope so it is easy to climb. Once I'm at the top I am able to look down into a green tree-filled valley that looks nothing like the desert I actually live in. (Another missed dream sign…) I notice a trail that descends into the trees and I wonder why I've never followed that path before, I make a note to myself that I'm going to check it out when I have more time.

For now I turn around and head back to the house. I go inside the house and make my way around the workers to the far side of the house where my mother has her new room. It is looking quite nice, this area is clearly almost done, so I look outside to where I remember my mother is going to have a large rose garden. There is already a selection of roses growing out there, many of them are rather large bushes with many beautiful blooms on them.

I go out through sliding doors to take a closer look at the flowers, they smell wonderful, but they are also swarming with bees. I am keeping my distance, but then a brisk gust of wind actually blows several of the bees right at me. They respond as if the wind was my personal attack on them and sting, leaving behind their stingers and dropping to the ground dead. I go back in the house and close the door behind me. I see there are quite a few stingers still in my arm, so I try to pull one out. I end up squeezing the rest of the venom right into my arm, and it burns a bit. I remember that pulling bee stingers out like that isn't a good idea, so I take a tweezers to carefully remove the others. Each of the stingers is dripping with copious amounts of venom, there is also venom oozing out of my arm where I was stung, and all I can think of at the time is that I am sure glad I'm not allergic, or that much venom would most likely be fatal!