I was in the back seat of our van. We were driving down a road, and looking at at the buildings. We were on a raised highway, so we could see many places at once with relative nearness. I remember looking out, and seeing things like something that looked like Big Ben, (which Mom, I think, corrected as a structure 'in Belgium'), a large movie building, and countless others that seemed to be from all over the world. From this I concluded that we "must be in Seattle", since no where else would there be so much diversity. (I don't know quite where I got this, maybe from the city's 'ethnic diversity', as my college classes would have me word it) But then it struck me that perhaps it was all a dream. At that point, I looked around, touching the seat I was sitting on, the plastic trim on the car's side, the back of the seat in front of me, and said to myself, "Well if this is a dream, then there's nothing realer." (read as: "If this is a dream, than it's as real as real life.")
Sure enough, after about 10 seconds, my body began to feel a bit different, as it started to 'vibrate'. Now I've known for some time now just how incredible it is to find yourself dreaming, but there are times when a couple of less-vivid lucid dreams will make you forget, and then when you have a dream with full lucidity, you remember what it feels like to be fully 'alive' or 'awake' within a lucid dream. That's what it felt like here, in remembering just how clear they can be. I went on to dream some more off of this, although over time I lost my lucidity and the dream became just another regular dream. I've noticed this tends to happen more with the dreams that I have in the middle of the night. Just a quick overview, is we eventually came up upon a road blockage, which I incorrectly remembered as being part of a dream Monica told me about; I tried to make the car go faster by mentally willing it to; we came upon a jump, and we got over first; at some point, it turned into a race; at some point, I was standing and throwing an object as the means of finishing the race; at some point, the race became between Monica, and Dad and I; at some point, we crossed the finish line a second behind Monica, and then I also went to Dad as the race's judge, in a sense, to explain how she didn't do it correctly; and so on, as goes any other regular dream.
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