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Morning of September 21, 2015. Monday.



This is a long dream with a clear and maintained perspective, though never lucid. I am in Brazil and speaking Brazilian Portuguese throughout, though there is also a consistent awareness that everything translates into English in “real time”. It starts out in a slum near some markets at the top of a higher hill though I eventually find my way to a different area where a Caucasian male (probably in his early thirties) is attempting to sell a pickup truck to an older Brazilian male. I interrupt their conversation, saying that I can sell him the truck he needs. I tell him to wait where he is and I will bring it around (from behind a building at an intersection). No truck exists yet, though I know I can just manifest one and sell it to him (again, even though I have no lucid awareness).

I go to an area out of sight from the other males and see at least one outdoor cafe. There are a lot of people around. I mentally focus and a dark blue pickup truck appears, and some people are somewhat surprised. I drive it back the short distance to the other males and show it to the potential buyer. He seems interested but I tell him I have another one I can show him. It seems important that the truck can be driven on an incline and this vehicle may not be powerful enough.

I go around and mentally will another pickup truck into existence. This one is smaller and of an orange color but it is a newer model than the previous. When I take it to the potential buyer though, the bed is apparently too small to hold as much as he needs it to. I then remember that modern new products are not only not made very well (or made to last very long), but that there has been a problematic trend towards miniaturization of everything. I tell him that I will go and bring back a third pickup truck which I am sure he will find suitable.

I go around to the cafe area again to create a pickup truck out of thin air for the third time. This one is a red one from the 1950s. When I bring it around (being careful not to hit any of the obstacles coming out of the parking lot and into the street again), I notice that instead of a cab, the front now looks a bit like an oversized steering area of my old Red Flyer wagon and the seating area is external. Still, I am able to control it and steer it without falling off the front, though it is an odd way to drive a vehicle, almost reminiscent of a stage coach. The potential buyer looks at the bed and I notice a lot of pillow stuffing in the back covered partly with an old worn dark green tarpaulin. This seems a bit annoying and is evidence it had been used a lot previously, but after a few minutes, the older male wants to buy it, because it is large enough and useful, and he needs one right away to carry on with his jobs. He asks me how much and I say “a hundred and fifty dollars”. He pays me in Brazilian Real. His son gives it to him and he gives it to me. It is in a small thin envelope that looks like it may hold airplane tickets instead.

At this point, the other male that was first trying to sell him a truck looks at me and says that he cannot believe it, though he does not seem angry. He probably wonders where I got all the trucks. I have a slight concern that the people on the other side of the buildings will reveal that my trucks came out of nowhere like magic, which may bring about confusion or gossip. I decide to leave the region for now.

From here, my dream shifts, though remains in the same general setting. There are soon many more people around. I am aware of an unknown female of about forty holding a penknife up to her throat as she is walking around. It seems she may be intent on committing suicide as well as perhaps infecting other people with her blood and I know that I need to be away from any blood spray, though nothing actually happens and I am able to leave the area without incident.

There are some curious plays on lucid dreaming (even though I am not lucid at any point) and sleep in this dream. Firstly, there is the creation of three vehicles to drive (out of mind power alone) that even have “beds”. The last truck’s bed even has pillow stuffing under a cover (which I do not even catch represents the sleeping process itself). The “interpretation” is, that although I am creating vehicles to steer out of nothing (with the enhanced change and focus on the Red Flyer’s steering section), I still do not become lucid even when my dream relates to metaphorically “driving the bed”. I find this dream very amusing, including with the “Brazilian Real” as the currency used. One hundred and fifty dollars relates to Dunbar’s number. “By using the average human brain size and extrapolating from the results of primates, he (Dunbar) proposed that humans can only comfortably maintain 150 stable relationships”. The small envelope that looks like it is for airplane tickets probably is a nod to the waking process (or leaving my dream). I am not sure about the woman at the end unless she simply represents cutting off the dream state.

This lucid is from the morning of August 1st.

Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid

Lucid #226: Bum Steer

I’m driving on a long, tree-lined road when I remember that I was hoping to have a lucid dream. I become lucid and just sit still for a moment, still driving as the dream continues just as it did before. I have this slightly paranoid feeling like the dream is going to “catch me”, but nothing happens.

I settle in to driving for a bit, thinking about what I want to do, feeling pleased with how smoothly the transition to lucidity went. I come to a rightward curve in the road and turn the wheel, but the car refuses to follow my instructions. I crank the steering wheel hard over to the right but nothing is working. The left front tire grinds along the curb for a while, the car shudders, and after a few seconds, I’m thrown into the void.

I rub my hands together and try to move my legs in a walking motion. It sort of works but I’m not feeling proper resistance in my feet and I have the sensation of my legs flailing around. It feels like this is going too long and I recall how Dreamer used flight when her dream went dark. I take to the air and fly around for a bit, the sensation partway between flying and falling. I finally remember that I have had good luck singing when I fly through the dark.

But before I even have to do any singing, I find myself flying high over a city. There are two tall, ruby-red buildings below me that are shaped like stretched out hexagon. As I look at them, an unseen voice gives me some kind of garbled warning about “balls” and the dream ends.

Notes: Given the theme, It’s interesting (well, to me at least) that during the day I was implementing the character-steering code for our video game project. Maybe I’m a little anxious about how well it’s going to work.

Type: regular dream.
Lucidity: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Vividness: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I was in a car, sitting in the passenger seat. One of my classmates was in the driver's seat; this girl wasn't very nice in real life and extremely careless about what she does and says. This carried over into the dream.

We were driving onto a generic concrete bridge with two divided lanes, and an extra lane on either side for parked vehicles. There were only parked cars along the sides, and no other cars driving the opposite direction. It was just us and our own car. We were driving and then, my classmate pulled out her phone and looked away from the road, checking something. It was about eye level and she was squinting to see what it said. I can't remember the exact color or shape of the phone, but it did have a screen that took up half the front of the phone itself, like a blackberry.

She began to swerve to the left, into the other lane, and then hit a parked car. I quickly grabbed the wheel, because she was being so slow to react, and steered away. She looked at the road, then at me for a second, almost freaked out, then laughed and continued to text. I was so nervous, and I knew we were going to have an accident if she continued. I took the wheel when she was looking at her phone and suddenly turned it all the way to the right, into the rail of the bridge. "Oh, would you look what your texting did," I said scornfully. She hit my hand and said, "Don't, this is my dad's!" in an angry manner.

She then put her phone down and looked at the road. We were now off the bridge and going towards an underpass. There was a large white truck driving next to us, but a bit further away, as if the lane was fairly wide.

The dream ended.