• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. Chasing an eel

      by , 12-18-2017 at 11:20 AM (BahamutZERO's dreams)
      A very bizarre one, and I only remember small fragments, but I'll try my best to describe it...

      The dream was in some sort of an underwater cave system. I could swim like a fish and breathe underwater.

      One of the cave entrances had a bar. When I entered the bar, there was somehow no water inside, it just looked like a normal bar above the sea level, but regardless, the bartender was a fish with a mustache. He was cleaning a beer glass. There was no way to get behind the counter, but in the middle of the room was a box. I pushed it so I could jump over. When I got behind the counter, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey but the bartender didn't care.

      In another scene, for some reason I had to chase a derpy eel called Gustenbiebel. Little did I know that he also had an evil twin brother, Kwistenbiebel*. They both lived in a separate cave, but their entrances looked similar. I chased Gustenbiebel, lost him for a bit, and momentarily I saw from some point of view other than my own that he fled into his cave. So I swam to his cave, but I accidentally entered Kwistenbiebel's cave instead, and I was stuck there. Kwistenbiebel looked rather hungry. Fortunately, that's where the dream ended at, it seems.

      (* "kwistenbiebel" is a Flemish word that means something like "moron"... "gustenbiebel" is just something my dream made up)

      Updated 12-18-2017 at 11:25 AM by 57251

      non-lucid , dream fragment
    2. Pictures of the Simpsons

      by , 01-06-2015 at 05:38 PM (Schmaven's Dream Journal of Randomness)
      I take a picture of my mom's dog and cat as they are both sitting in the kitchen right next to each other. They both smile and look at the camera. The perfect shot. Funny how both the dog and the cat look alike, and also look like my dad's weird dog he has. My sister wants to see the picture, but when I look at it, they aren't looking at the camera anymore, even though I already took the picture. I look for another picture, but all I have are photos of the Simpsons in real life. Mostly weird ones, like a tiny animated devil sitting on a chair, with Maggie poking her head around the side, and Marge in the background. Or a photo of Mr Herman.

      Suddenly I am on an airplane right next to an animated Mr Herman. Apparently he's a really fat guy, I'm not sure where his character comes from. He says, "I'm Mr. Herman!" and suddenly we're both falling from the plane. Now I'm watching us fall, hit the ground, but all cartoon like.

      I stand up, the cartoon effect disappears, and there is a big bottle of whiskey in front of me. Kind of like Goldschlager, but with red bits instead of gold. Must be cinnamon flavored... An old friend next to me tells me I should have drank it earlier, but I can still drink it now. It seems like a tasty idea, so I reach for it, but wake up because I can't feel my arm, and my shoulder hurts. Arm =/= shoulder.

      ...All of this in an unplanned nap on the couch with the cat on me!
    3. 7/22/14 - sriracha whiskay

      by , 07-22-2014 at 09:26 PM (Leaving the matrix)
      I walk into the living room and see that the house is filled with grey haired people. I ask my mom why all these people are here, and she says because she decided to have a party with her friends, but I knew that she only knew a few of these people. I particularly wasn't fond of this one loud man. His interactions with me, my friend and my mom as we where talking was annoying me. For some reason I had a green square shaped glass bottle of sriracha sauce, and I had left it on the wooden bench against the wall. I went off and had small nervous conversation with someone I know. Then the party was over, and I remembered my bottle and I walked over to it and saw that it only had a forth left in the bottle, and I knew it was full before the party. At first I thought it had a leak, and I examined the bottle but it just hit me that the annoying man must've made drinks with it. Then I snapped and he appeared and laughed and said he enjoyed it and smugly thanked me for it, then he disappeared again. Then I angrily turned to my mom and friend and kept yelling that he drank my whiskay! (I didn't say whiskey, I kept saying whiskay) HE DRANK MY WHISKAY!
    4. Hologram Witch-Ghost --> Pizza Box

      by , 07-04-2011 at 05:19 PM (Dragging my Mind Over the Gap Between Is's)
      Monday, July 4th

      I. Holorgram Witch-Ghost→ Pizza Box

      I will explain this dream as best as I can.

      I am sitting in my living room of my house, much like I was shortly before going to sleep last night though I cannot remember if I was drunk in my dream as well. Suddenly M.B comes into the house; he’s apparently just gotten out of work. He has my bottle of whiskey in his hand, which is a little under half full. He upturns it and I’d say about a third of it goes in his mouth, the rest soaks his clothes and the carpet. I get pretty bent out of shape about that.

      Flustered and not sure what to do I say “Well, I guess I’m going the fuck to bed then.” As I walk out of the room I see that several of my guitar pedals are set up on the floor, very near the pool where the whiskey has spilled. Wondering if they are now damaged, I go over and pick them up, deciding to take them upstairs with me to prevent further incidents of stupidity. They have some fine mist on them but are not damaged. However, as I pick them up and try to negotiate getting them all into my arms at the same time I’m pretty sure they begin multiplying and popping up in different parts of the room. I think I eventually get to a point where I’m contented and walk upstairs to go to sleep.

      The dream jumps completely – suddenly I am on BHI about to head back to my house. The only reason I know this comes afterwards is that I am still pissed off about M.B spilling my whiskey. I am standing on a boardwalk that runs through a very thick forest with a building behind me. As an unknown person is talking to me I suddenly see S.A. She tries to tell me something, but not quite knowing what to do or who to listen to I hold up a finger as if to say ‘one second.’ She walks off and talks to someone else though.

      As I am walking down the boardwalk toward what I’m intuitively guessing is the ocean, somebody (female) asks if I’m sad to be leaving. I tell her “I’d much rather be in Wilmington.” At this point everything that has happened so far is completely gone and the dream completely changes; I’m even reluctant to not separate this into 2 dreams but I have a feeling that this was all linear.

      I’m suddenly at a children’s play that my sister is directing, or producing, or involved with in some way like that. I am sitting on the floor with her boyfriend waiting for it to start, which seems to take hours. I don’t remember much about it, except that the ending involves this evil hologram witch-ghost. She flies around the room, including into the floor, yelling out death wishes and generally very obscene things. Apparently she can be defeated if you stab her, which is how the play ends.

      The dream now takes another jump, and this is the most difficult part for me to understand. I start out in an unfamiliar house, and a bunch of us set off on some quest. I do not remember if I am aware at the time of what the quest is. My memory of this section is pretty shot too; I guess I couldn’t quite deal with how little sense it was making. Either way, our quest ends with an encounter with this same hologram witch-ghost. We are in a large square room, the floor seems to be a white marble type material, and it bears a great resemblance to the room that I.B and I saw my sister's play in but I don’t think it is the same room.

      I experience an incredible feeling of déjà-vu. I had thought that there’d been a gun in my backpack, which I look for but cannot find. Suddenly I remember, “oh yeah, she’s got to be stabbed!” I relay this information to everyone around me, still digging in my backpack for something sharp. All I can find is a capo and some screwdrivers, which I decide to use. The first couple screwdrivers I pull out are very small and will not penetrate lethally. The hologram witch ghost has just taken a dive under the floor, and will soon swoop back up to make a strike on me. In the nick of time I find a screwdriver that will be long enough. She flies down in front of me and I plunge the screwdriver downward into her.

      Suddenly I’m looking at a pizza box, which I have just stuck a knife into. I still hear the scream though, which escalates greatly as I begin turning the knife around in circles. I look around and I am now back in the kitchen that I set out from. There are many brownie trays full of good looking but unidentifiable food, which I sample for awhile. Walking into another room I see M.B again, but this time I am no longer pissed off about my whiskey.
    5. Flying Against the Wind

      by , 09-25-2007 at 03:25 PM
      Morning September 25, 2007. Tuesday.

      In the first part of my dream, I fly around, but sometimes in a sitting position or even sideways (as if on my side), or “swimming” very slowly in midair. I talk with an unknown woman at a bus stop as I hover in one area, but I am not sure of the overall meaning of anything she is saying, yet I pretend to understand, because she looks as if she would go from cheerful to very sad if I did not understand her. It may be something about a party, a couple names, and things I would probably not know unless I was an actual friend of hers. I get the strong impression that she is dreaming, so I figure she will wake from “her” dream when I come back from wherever it is I am going.

      I meet a (unknown) man who asks me where he is. At this point, it is some sort of business building with mostly featureless long halls. I casually explain to him that he is dreaming and show him around, and also show him some tricks one can do in the dream state. I say how you can even fly in dreams. We get to the front part of the building, but he goes off to find someone to ask for street directions instead of believing my claim that he is dreaming.

      When I fly back the other way, there is a fairly strong wind. I still manage to get through it by taking different positions (and at one point I am literally sitting in midair waiting for the wind to change slightly) and when I change my position so that I am standing but leaning a bit forward (still in midair), I start musically vocalizing Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” (with “da” intonations) in a semi-sarcastic way to the people that are walking and at bus stops.

      The unknown female is still waiting at the bus stop and says hello to me again. Later on, I am at my sister Marilyn’s house in the United States. Someone puts several both small and large envelopes through the mail slot (on the porch). The name on the envelopes (all the same) is not one I am familiar with. It is seemingly a girl’s name I do not recall. Just a little later, there are two shadows at the door. I am thinking that they are either police detectives or underground gangsters, which seems to be the same concept in-dream. I am thinking they are here to claim the envelopes (some of which seemed thicker) even though I was thinking of seeing what was in them.

      They turn out to be a landlord from years back (in Australia), and oddly, Forrest Tucker (who died in 1986), in his persona from the original “Ghost Busters” television show from the 1970s. They are both dressed exactly the same, in 1940s gangster-style suits, but with extra-tall hats. The landlord (who lost his property to the bank to some sort of apparently legal “funny business” against him) asks if I still have the key to one of his properties. I do (false memory) and go and get it for him. Forrest adds to the concern by telling me to hurry, as it seems the landlord must go in and get something that belongs to him before the new owners get back (in real life, he had lost all he owned that was at the property as well).

      After that, there is something about drinking a bottle of whiskey with my wife Zsuzsanna. I find a bottle of whiskey and a couple other types of drinks in the house. (Neither of us ever bought alcohol in our life other than me buying shots of brandy at a tavern once a week when I lived in America when cashing my paychecks at the Red Lantern for less than a year.) I pretend to be drunk, somewhat similar to the style Foster Brooks (note “Foster” and “Forrest” have the same letters), but not as extreme. I actually seemed to have gotten the bottles from Foster Brooks in some sort of birthday celebration, which is not for a couple months yet. I do not contemplate the obvious confusion of Forrest Tucker with Foster Brooks until after I am awake.

      Looking up information on Foster Brooks, I see that he died on the twentieth of December, which is my birthday - something I do not remember focusing on before at any time.

      Updated 03-14-2017 at 04:09 PM by 1390