VivianVector

Really potent dream state. I had been drinking at a party that night, but I had still never experienced dreaming quite like this, alcohol or no. There was no REM rebound either, dreaming began almost immediately.

--- --- --- --- ---

Lying back into the hammock, still a little intoxicated from the party, I begin to drift into sleep. I am in a room off to the side with some other people who have turned in for the night, while in the lounge room a small group of party-goers keep going strong. My eyes shut, the music doesn't bother me.

I am flying over a fantastical modern city. Huge buildings stretch up into the sky, incredibly detailed. The way my three dimensional perspective shifts is incredibly realistic. As I have experienced before, the movement itself causes the visuals to solidify rapidly.

I am wandering through this dreamworld. I find myself in a penthouse apartment of sorts. There are many well-dressed, influential people here. Some hold glasses of champagne, others speak in hushed tones. It seems that there is an event of some description on. The rooms are vast and the decor minimalist. I am definitely amongst the upper echelon of society, but there are distinct underworld currents here and powerful ones at that. Women in stunning dresses sip at cocktails, a man deals cards at a table, and there are people coming and going from an oriental meeting room. I try to peer inside but the security is eyeing me suspiciously.

I wander into a side room. There are people here being 'sold' for exorbitant amounts of money, but they are all very keen to be here. There's roughly half a dozen of them, dressed in white robes, male and female and all glamourously beautiful. They aren't slaves or prostitutes as such, more like high-status consorts whose loyalty is bought, trophies to be displayed. There are a few people bidding here. By entering the room, I have unwittingly entered myself in the auction, but I am not at all dressed or prepared for such an event. A price is named for me. It is low compared to the others, but still in figures that I could not expect to see in my lifetime.

A pixie-eyed man, one of the actual party-goers from the waking world, leans over and speaks to me.
"Not bad at all, but I will attract a much higher sum."
He did, of course. He wasn't gloating so much as stating fact, this was their profession.
"What other purpose is there to life than to be as beautiful and glamourous as possible?" He believed that it only made sense for everyone to aspire to this ideal.

It was then that I had a 'false awakening' in the apartment. I get out of the hammock and stagger into the lounge room. The party-goers are still up, awake and energetic, but very aware that they are dreaming.
"This is what we do," the pixie-eyed man explained. "We go out exploring this world at night. We thought that as you were here, we would try to wake you up as well."
It had worked for me, but all the others who had turned in early were still sleeping in the room I had left. They were too deeply asleep to be pulled into the dream.

They began to explain that they went by aliases while dreaming to protect their physical identities. It made sense to me, except that the pixie-eyed man had been making quite the name for himself as a rogue lucid-awakener by the name 'Anderson'. I got the Matrix reference. It seemed he had been pulling a lot of people into his dream adventures recently. I recalled seeing his name at an earlier time, somewhere in another dream, and warned him to be careful.

It was too late. Eyes were already upon him and his group. An illuminati-style organisation had taken interest in his activities and decided to put a stop to them. Their methods involved misleading and blinding individuals with familiar glamours. They wouldn't even know that they had been restricted to only existing within their own personal dreamworlds.

We had to flee, running out into the corridors. Desperately trying to escape the clutch of our pursuers. The party was split, we were forced to break up into smaller groups and head out into different directions. But we kept getting lost, funnelled only down the paths that the organisation dictated. And then we would awake again in that lounge room. Lights off, only two of us this time. We'd look at each other and run out into the hallways. Awakened again, this time a couple of others. We were all confused, scared, frightened. Awake again, and again, and then I opened my eyes.

I was physically awake this time, lying in the hammock. The very people I had been dreaming about were in the lounge room outside, dancing and doing shots. But I could't hold onto my waking awareness and fell back beneath the waves. Awake again, same lounge room, but this time I was alone.
I ran out into the hallway, none from the group in sight. I followed the paths through the building desperately, and finally this time I came to a location I had not seen before. The hall curved around into a room with an alcove and a tall window looking out over the cloud-shrouded buildings beyond. The city I had seen as I flew over it at the beginning of my journey.

I stopped, looking out over the breath-taking view. I became aware of two figures that had been waiting here. One was a man, silent, clothed and hooded in black robes. I had a sensation of knowing him, a name; the Angel. The other was a man in a simple work suit. He was from the organisation, or at least knew of my predicament. It appeared they had been speaking before my arrival. The man from the organisation approached me and began to converse with me. He explained that given the circumstances, I would be free to go.

The dream shifted and time was lost. I found myself walking through a busy train station. There were escalators and shops, commuters going to and from platforms. I wandered around, perhaps keeping an eye out for anyone I may know, but I needed no goods or transport.

Some troubling self-esteem dreams this month. I was gripped with the notion that my friends despised me. Despite knowing that they were just dreams, I was still emotionally affected by it. Thankfully, by the end of the month, I had worked through this issue. A lot of hypnagogia this month as well. It's been interesting to say the least.

--- --- --- --- ---

Some strange, oily hypnagogia. I see intense but limited visuals. A painted white spiral staircase. An empty apartment room with french windows, people standing on the patio beyond. I am gaining traction, but I get the sense that I am positing my awareness inside another person. He moves without my guidance, beginning to stumble, perhaps due to my influence. He turns and falls to the ground, reaching a hand out hoping to catch himself. I hear one of his associates call his name, and then again but closer and far louder. It is so sharp that it awakens me completely.

--- --- --- --- ---

I re-attempt a lucid technique that I had tried once before. As I lay awaiting sleep, I begin to count.
"1, I am dreaming. 2, I am dreaming."
As I do so, hypnagogic voices begin to intrude. They sigh and sound disappointed, and then begin the try to interrupt my counting. Some speaking over the top of me, others counting backwards trying to muddle my continuity. I press on regardless. They are annoying but not hostile.

--- --- --- --- ---

I dream of a crime scene. A thick-set man enters an underground bar frequented by those with criminal affiliations. It is empty but for the barkeep and his staff. He asks the barkeep to recount the events of the previous night. A young man had become drunk and rowdy. In his inebriated state he had stumbled and fallen, punching a drink off a table by accident. The drink's owner, the man now standing in the bar, had been intoxicated himself. Enrage by the slight, he had instantly drawn his pistol and fired three bullets into the younger man. The barkeep vows not to tell a single other soul about the event.
The next day I take the tram to work and we pass by a road blocked off by police tape. A man had been murdered in the early hours of the morning, affiliated with the local mob. Three bullets.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am at a supermarket but all the fresh produce looks old and stale. I am offered a punnet of raspberries, but they look rotten. I eat some anyway, and instantly spit them out. They taste sour and foul. The sensation of taste is strong.

--- --- --- --- ---

My arms and legs are all tangled and tied up in knots, restricting my movement. I beseech a male friend for help and he assists, untangling my limbs. He pulls a note out of my back pocket, indicating that it may explain the issue. I unfold the note and read it.
The top line reads; 'You need to quit smoking.'
It is followed by a single word at the bottom, bracketed as though an after thought, but capitalise for emphasis; '(CUNT)'
I am so shocked by it that the memory sticks strong in my mind. The next day I begrudgingly decide to quit smoking.

--- --- --- --- ---

We are a team of soldiers on a perilous mission to vanquish a great alien intellect within its own metallic domain. Through holes in the floor, we can view the next dangerous stage of our journey. We meet a man who is besieged by the same entity, but he is also caught up in the illusions that it presents. Through the holes, he sees his own home and family. We warn him that he is too close to the being and this is a sign that he is endangered. He deliberates on what to do.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am in the back garden of my grandparent's house, a memory from childhood. My cohesion is low, but the detail is still quite high. I go inside. The house is quiet, but items are left out on the table. The room feels lived in, as though somebody had been here not too long ago. I flip the light switch, and nothing happens. I sigh, miss the lucidity cue, and turn to my left, instantly spying the breaker box. I find it odd that for some reason it is now located in the kitchen. The door is open with only a single fuse switch. I flick it on and the lights spring to life. I turn back around and there is a tall man wearing dark clothes leaning against the sink behind me.

Just weird dream related things from February. I had a number of precognitives as well, but I might put them in their own entry.

--- --- --- --- ---

Hypnapompia. A woman is to my left, speaking with energetic curiosity.
"Your eye, when it glows white, what does that mean?" She asks. I snap awake, and know not how to respond.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am sleeping on the couch in my friend's house. I experience a strong thought several times during the night. I am not dreaming at the time, and the thought wakes me up completely.
'He is here, now, in my presence, in this room.' I have no recollection of the thoughts preceding this. It is potent enough to spur me to instantly awaken and open my eyes wide, observing the room. Each time, I see nothing out of the ordinary, and return to sleep.

--- --- --- --- ---

A surprisingly vivid dream. I am lying in an open-plan apartment. The visuals are acute, but I do not know this place. Sparks fly down from above me. I turn around to look in the top left corner behind me, knowing that there is an entity present, bit my vision is spun back around against my will. I try again, and the visuals are distorted, flipping the room and returning my view to the front. On my third attempt, I can look up, but see nothing except for a hazy invisible aura. I become tired and lean back in my hammock. I feel like I am being drained, all my energy is gone, and I fall down exhausted and hardly able to move. There are kittens beneath me! I need to save them or I'll crush them, but my movement is dragging.
I am aware of a change afterwards. I know that I have to remember the full sequence of events and I set to reciting them while still in the dream. Suffice it to say, I have since forgotten.

--- --- --- --- ---

Manage to hold vibratory hypnagogia for a full hour or so. Lots of weird visuals, but nothing out of the ordinary besides the duration.
A dream from later that day. I am loaded into a canon on a satellite orbiting high above the Earth's atmosphere. I am fired down a long tube towards the ground. I fall so very far and for so long. I am not sure how to hold my body as I streak through the air. I am very aware of where my limbs are. Eventually I hit the Earth and tumble across the ground. I'm perfectly fine but my equipment is a little damaged.
"Next time I should remember to deploy my parachute," I say out loud.

--- --- --- --- ---

I'm outside in a suburban neighbourhood with a real-life friend and his mate. We are smoking, and staring up at the night sky. There are three moons. We think it's very strange, and wonder how the optical illusion could be caused. Shame I missed the lucidity cue.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am with the Sentinel and a number of others. I know they are my protectors. White robes cover their eyes. I am not lucid, and in my office at work. They are discussing something amongst themselves, a metaphysical topic which I do not understand. In my non-lucid state, I seem not to mind. I look out the window and see that the sky is dark with thunderheads, a storm approaches. In the street below, I see the strangest anomaly. A huge thick cloud of a dusty, ochre, gaseous condensation. Thick, black, plasmatic streamers coil within, like electric water waiting to discharge. It is dangerous and very vivid. It passes by beneath us, we go unnoticed. I note that the streets are still dry, and people carry umbrellas but they are closed. I expected it to have left a torrent of rain in its wake and am quite surprised.

--- --- --- --- ---

I pull on a blue poncho that I am offered and conjure my reflection before me to see how it looks. My head is gone! I laugh, thinking that this is amazing. I tilt my head around, trying to see if my eyes have fallen down the trunk of my neck. A friend approaches, and seems perturbed by my odd behaviour. I exuberantly tell them that my head is missing, but they look confused. I turn back to my reflection and am dismayed to see that everything has returned to normal.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am sleeping on the floor of my friend's room. At some point during one of my dreams, I become aware of a dark presence closing in around me. It slowly tightens its circle, a fear-inducing blackness beyond. I rush around frantically, unsure of what to do. I call on the Sentinel, and I feel his presence appear. He urges me to scream, and so I do, but instead of a cry of fear the most ungodly sound comes out of my throat. It sounds like the wail of a banshee. The sound immediately banishes and drives away the encroaching darkness. I force me eyes open, and in the darkness of the room I see a glowing blue face.
'It's just an illusion,' I remind myself, and it fades away. But I was not the only one who had bad dreams that night.

--- --- --- --- ---

I smoked some mugwort for the first time. I had a lot of fairly vivid dreams, and while I did not become lucid, some part of me was aware as though I was. I began practising dream control exercises which I normally would have done while lucid. I teleported around, surprised that it came easily to me. I also attempted to change the colour of a rock to yellow. In the dream, I was convinced I had failed, but when I awoke to record the dream I could only remember the rock ever being yellow, so I suppose it had worked even better than expected.

--- --- --- --- ---

Hypnapompia. I am a girl; blue, silver, watery, lunar. I pass into another space and now I am a boy; red, gold, fiery, solar. But I am still the same person.

--- --- --- --- ---

Some strange pseudo-sleepwalking. My muscles hurt, so I lie out on the floor of my bedroom. As I fall asleep, it feels as if I fall out of my body and through the floor. No dreams, but after some time, my room mate moves about in the hall and startles me. I open my eyes sitting on the edge of my hammock. I know that I had hurriedly stood up from the floor and moved to the side of the room, but I was definitely not conscious while it happened. It takes me a while to shake the disorientation.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am inside a collection of shops in my hometown. I become lucid, but I have not stabilised well. I stagger about to find some dream characters to harass. I barge into a room, and several people turn to look at me. I begin to speak, but its apparent that I'm not holding onto my lucidity well. It falls away and I wander off to go and rake some leaves.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am with a friend in a bed within the dream. We want to sleep peacefully but I am afraid of the house. As we are lying there, I sight a black mass entering through the door. My friend tries to calm me down, but I begin to panic and awake. I realise that the image is of actual objects in my room, but rotated 90 degrees to the left. As I awake, the visuals pivot to their correct alignment before my eyes. My head had not turned, only the image in my mind. It was very bizarre.

After all the intense dreams of the previous month, I felt almost as though I needed a break. Didn't stop the weirdness though. Reading back over it is kind of sobering. Be assured I had plenty of mundane dreams as well!

--- --- --- --- ---

A sudden startling image of one of my friends standing in my back doorway. Highly detailed, as though I were right there.|
"I can hear everything you are thinking," he says. It was weird. Weird enough for me to tell a dream character in a later dream of the night about it.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am with my blonde host sister, although she does not exist in the waking world. I regretted not spending more time with her over the years, even though I had always regarded her as one of the shadow ones.

--- --- --- --- ---

I was in the countryside on a peaceful night. I looked up to see that we were mid-way through a lunar eclipse, but we were viewing it through some sort of rift or portal in the sky. As the moon passed and the eclipse ended, the warp collapse and the moon disappeared. Then, all of a sudden, I was catapulted into the air with great force and began to soar over the starlit countryside.
"I am dreaming," I thought, but within moments I had awoken.

--- --- --- --- ---

A tension in the air. I walk past a hooded man in sorrow outside the barred window of a sleeping woman.
"I visit her in her dreams," he says to me. "Is this wrong?"
"No," I say, "but she will never know you beyond that."

--- --- --- --- ---

Entity dream for certain. My room looks completely real, but it is like a strange sleep paralysis has fallen over me. I could move, but only barely, and parts of my body felt numb. I became aware that I had an extra set of arms. I investigated my body awareness and realised that I could not move one of the sets. I rolled over and bit down into one of their fists. I heard a male voice scream out in pain from within my head.
There was a shift, and I was in the bathtub of my parents' bathroom. The lights were out but the room was illuminated by the warm glow of a candle. It was incredibly realistic, as though it had been ripped straight from my memories.
'This is wrong,' I thought, and the dream shifted back to my bedroom. I was in my hammock, but could still hear the hollow slosh of the bathwater. I felt the presence return, invisible hands touching me. I encouraged the presence to approach, I was in the mood for games.

--- --- --- --- ---

Truly strange cognition. At one point in the night I recall waking and visiting the bathroom for a glass of water. Upon returning, I was convinced that I had to perform all my actions in reverse. It was integral to remember that in this world it was different. I even believed that everything I had been doing up to that point had been in reverse, and that therefore I was succeeding.

Writing everything out like this in short summaries is very therapeutic. Recurring character is recurring.

I am drifting over the water. I am dead. I am missing my other body, but what is it? Invisible, impossible, immortal. it is the body which grants me power.

--- --- --- --- ---

A single note, at the bottom of one of my journal pages. 'I don't remember why we were in the submarine'.

--- --- --- --- ---

Hypnagogia. A single voice on the edge of sleep.
"Fall back into my tentacles."
"Excuse me!?" I stammer, but darkness envelops me.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am walking with my brother, advising him about some personal struggles he is having. I get him to a read from a poetry book that he has been assigned for school. I haven't read it, but I'm surprised at how good the content is, and relevant to his problems. I tell him to read one passage a day and meditate on its meaning.

--- --- --- --- ---

He's under house arrest. Had we been stealing things? I feel like it must have been for a good cause.
Eggs! Oh man, I want some eggs. He is quickly forgotten in my pursuit of eggs.

--- --- --- --- ---

A man and a woman have kidnapped me, ferreting me away into the nearby forest. They need time to cast their teleportation spell, but a warrior woman has followed us looking for me. I manage to sight her through the trees. She looks exactly like me. Perhaps I should have struggled. The spell is cast and the dream shifts.

--- --- --- --- ---

I shift, and find myself in a forest. He is here with me, the Sentinel. There isn't a doubt in my mind that it is him. We smile at each other and talk a little, but mostly there is just a silent knowing.
I have to climb a tree. One of the branches is on an incline and is long, sturdy and straight, but it is broken right up near the trunk. I am small, perhaps it will hold my weight a while, but not for long. He watches me, giving the occasional word of advice. He feels I should abandon that path altogether and climb up the smaller, but more secure network of branches to the side. I think that I can make the best of both.

--- --- --- --- ---

"It's 5:70pm," someone says. For some reason, it doesn't strike me as odd.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am walking down a street, but I can empathically sense everything about the occupants of the houses without seeing them. One of my friends arrive, so I tell him all about it, forgetting that it is quite normal for a dream.

--- --- --- --- ---

We are soldiers in a five-man squad. Zombies attack. I climb to elevation and use my rifle to pick them off. It does not take us long to dispatch them, but our commanding officer informs us that we cannot move on until we find our final party member who has gone missing during the raid. We look around us but cannot see him. Other squads past by and radio messages are sent out, but nobody knows where he is. I think about what I know of him to try and work out where he could have gone. All I know is that his name is Horse, because he is a horse.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am in a fantasy game world. A quest giver keeps telling me to take a Potion of Patience and sit still for a while. I should have taken their advice.

--- --- --- --- ---

I'm walking, but my vision and cognition are still very hazy.
"Sentinel? I wonder if you can hear me," I say.
"I can always hear you," he replies, a voice in my mind. My attention is piqued.
"Let me go somewhere quieter away from all these people so we can talk," I say. A nice idea, but I am distracted easily. There are people listening to music, and I dance and sing along, thoroughly enjoying it. When I feel I have spent enough time intruding on their space, I turn around. There is figure concealed by shadows smoking and observing in silence. I thank him for letting me enjoy this time, and move on.

--- --- --- --- ---

The kingdom is fleeing at the behest of the Queen. A bushfire approaches and threatens their lives. The young royal advisor frantically suggests that we should check on the Watchers, the entities which look over our kingdom, before we leave in case their loyalty should wander in our absence. I go up to their chamber, overlooking the town. The walls are carved stone and the room is well lit. The door opens before me, bidding me entrance. On a stone plinth sits a thick tome. The Book of Kings! I am excited to see it in person. The Watchers fill the pages with information when they wish to communicate with the royals of the kingdom. My mother may be the Queen, but I am not of royal blood. This is a great honour. I sit down, filled with anticipation. The advisor returns, freaking out that we should become trapped in here by the Watchers and never allowed to leave. I snicker under my breath.
"Just approach the door and it will open for you," I say aloud. But in my head, I think 'Or rather, they will open it for you'.

--- --- --- --- ---

I'm taken to a bar by some friends. One by one, people from my past begin to arrive. It feels as if this has been arranged.
We go outside to observe a ceremony. Hundreds of people are amassed on the banks of a river as a a boat comes through and the ritual begins. Everyone begins to glow red or blue and their abdomens look like interlocking fingers. Each chooses a partner and merges with them, before disappearing and ascending. One boy approaches me, but I ask him to keep his distance. Eventually they all disappear, and only a small number of us are left behind. They will return when the journey is over and they have seen what was intended.
I seek out an older woman inside the tavern. She is the lover of a wise old Indian man. I ask her about the ceremony, but she does not want to say too much, and I do not want to appear ignorant. She says that the ritual requires the ingestion of a certain mushroom, and that they will return after its effects end. I ask her if she ever joined in the ceremony before, and she tells me that she has not.

--- --- --- --- ---

Hypnapompia. My cat is meowing, but it sounds more agitated than normal. My half-dreaming mind translates it into words as I border on the edge of sleep.
"I'm sorry if I have offended your personality as a lion," she says in my dream.

Some more snippets. Lots of snakes this month.

I mean to go and visit a friend, but the route to his house is blocked by a swamp of crocodiles. I am with some people who become quite alarmed when they realise that there are snakes right nearby. I am not frightened, and neither is my cat. The snakes are not scared of us. The larger one is a slate-grey colour with dull yellow rosettes along its left flank and steel-blue rosettes along its right. It coils around in front of us to show that it is comfortable in our presence. The second snake is much smaller. Its scales were a rusty red-brown and it had a rattle on the end of its tail.

--- --- --- --- ---

Earlier in the dream, I had used my phone to take a photo of someone I had seen. I would do this occasionally in dreams, and even though obviously the camera was fairly useless, it would help to mark a moment to focus my recall on when I awoke. I was walking around in front of the state library in this dream and came across an array of items that looked like they had been abandoned by someone who had come this way before me. There are clothes on the ground, along with an ice-cream tub with only one scoop left. In the tub there is a photo of the tub itself. I shake my head and continue on.

--- --- --- --- ---

We're running a con or playing a game, I am not sure which. My friend is trying to impersonate a man he's never met. He's wearing a bright magenta suit. I don't think he's going to be able to pull it off, but I'm keen to watch anyway. Mid-way through our gambit, a person rushes over to us.
"Wraith! He's an astral wraith!" the person cries. I walk over excitedly.
"Really? You're an astral wraith?" I don't know what it means, but I'm intrigued. He looks over, an unimpressed expression crossing his face.
"No, no. You just misheard." He says to me. The dream fades.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am in my parents' front garden. There is a small green snake here, warming itself in the sun. The visuals are very clear and distinct. Blisters have broken out on its skin and smoke is rising from the wounds. It seems to be doing this intentionally, the warmth of the sun purging the toxins from its body. I reach for my camera, but am suddenly teleported high above the Earth and the scene is lost.

--- --- --- --- ---

My friend and I are battling a huge zombie. We all leap through the air towards each other, my friend firing an assault rifle while I swing wildly at the zombie's head with a blackjack. It is taking damage, but not nearly enough. It lunges towards me, coming closer than I would like.
'I'll stab it in the eye,' I think to myself. Everyone stops mid-air.
"Woah, dude," my friend says, taken aback.
"Yeah, that's a little bit excessive," says the zombie. "Calm down."
I look around at them, uncertain myself. The GM steps in.
"You've already decided upon your action. Roll damage."

--- --- --- --- ---

I dream I am with two of my real life friends, a couple I know. In the dream, they are bickering constantly. I take them outside and sit them down. I haven't done couples counselling before. I begin to talk to them about the issue, but they seem confused. They don't see it as a problem and am unsure why I do. I'm confused myself now, have I missed something?
The next day in the waking world I catch a tram with them both. They spend the entire tram ride bickering. One is trying to organise something to do together for the other's birthday, but the other is being very tense and resistant. I observe and say nothing.

--- --- --- --- ---

"Your ears are full of wax," someone says. I am lying in my hammock, talking to someone over my right shoulder, but I cannot see them. The hammock is full of rocks and they are digging into my back.

--- --- --- --- ---

An episode of hypnagogia. I'm lying in my hammock again and hear a voice from over my right shoulder. They are speaking to me.
"An illusion," I state.
It's voice sounds like it is smiling. "Glad to know that's how I come across," is it's only reply.
"Who are you!?" I shout out with some desperation, but there is no response, and the episode fades away into sleep.

--- --- --- --- ---

I could see my self clinging to a sinking boat, half-submerged in the ocean. The boat was not mine and it was full of explosives, and yet I clung to it still. A woman towered over the horizon. An explosion went off behind her, as though in the same room, yet I was very small in the world below. She glanced over to check on it. I was angry at her, but I didn't know why. I was plucked from the ocean and rescued. My friends rushed over, attempting to heal me, but I suspected that it had been the woman who was responsible for my safe recovery. I was indebted to her, but felt very conflicted, and didn't even understand why.

--- --- --- --- ---

"I'm just going to pay for these in the next room," I tell the man, items scooped up in my arms.
"Sure," he shrugs, regarding me with absolute confusion. I'm always the craziest DC in my dreams.

This feels like only the beginning of a story arc. I'm going to tell this dream in two parts, the first was a dream from my adolescent journal, the second was from adulthood. I never had much interest at all in samurai and Japanese maritime culture, as I've mentioned in my other journals, and yet this theme keeps returning with vengeance. I'm always sabotaging the plans of aliens I meet as well, benevolent and malevolent alike.

--- --- --- --- ---

Dream #1 - May 2008

The beginnings of the dream are blurred. I was running. I don't know why and I don't know where I was going. A few other escapees fled with me. It was important that they didn't see us. I knew it would only be minutes before they appeared. We arrived at the river bank in my home town. Perfect, this was my turf, I knew how to blend in. It was as my friend as me where we should go, when a group of our pursuers appeared from around a corner. One of them was dressed in the armour of a samurai, but I somehow doubted that that's what he truly was. Despite the fact that we were enemies, I couldn't help sensing that we had a mutual understanding of each other. I was worried that could play to my disadvantage, but luckily they did not see us.

The dream shifted and I was a soldier fighting an uphill battle. Neither side was gaining ground and we were both gradually losing troops. We managed to take the school on the hill top which was overlooking the ocean and the enemy's home islands. A flying saucer sat silently nearby. I entered to find a man I knew well. He was one of our enemies and despite claiming that he wanted peace, he was only after victory. He told me that he was going to take any people who wanted to leave to his land where they would have a much better life. I didn't believe him and quickly left.

I walked through the environment until suddenly I realised that the Samurai was behind me. We both drew our swords, prepared to fight, and the battle began. I had trained hard for this but his skills were incredible. He was fast but strong and could predict my moves before I made them. I could barely defend myself from his blows. I decided to use my ability, and suddenly turned invisible. Even though he could not see me, he still managed to block every single one of my attacks all while lecturing me on 'fighting dirty'. I kept up the barrage without success.

It was then that he brought his leg up and attempted to kick me in the stomach. He knew that if I bled I couldn't remain invisible! He kicked at me again and again until eventually I flinched long enough for him to draw his dagger and plunge it into my side. The invisibility fell. I removed the dagger and broke into a run, realising that I couldn't win. I dashed up an embankment, turning invisible again in an attempt to flee.
"So predictable," I heard him say aloud as he followed. I looked down at my hands and realised that the invisibility was no longer working. I reached the top of the embankment and climbed up onto a balcony, hoping he would run past below and I would be able to slip away, but he knew exactly where I was. He stood beneath me and looked up. I expected him to continue his attack, but he stopped, nodded in acknowledgement, and then walked away.

I ran back to the alien saucer and slipped into the control room. The man's plans were the crash the ship into the school with dozens of my own people aboard. I changed its pre-flight path to the enemy island and ran into the cabin to drag my friends off this suicide ship. When I told them what I knew they didn't believe me. I could hear the countdown in the background and they still refused to move, so I pushed them off. I pulled the man into a headlock and leapt off the saucer as it rose into the air and promptly smashed into the island. My people cheered, but in all the confusion, the man had escaped again.

--- --- --- --- ---

Remember the Japanese whaling ships from the Temple of Apollo and the small dream-town in Tasmania? It gets relevant.

Dream 2 - November 2015

I was in a darkened building with many others. The dream was hazy and indistinct, and then suddenly I realised that I was in a single room alone and the visuals became very crisp and focused. This whole house was mine. The room was empty, but the moments sitting in silence without distractions fixed my cohesion. I was aware that people may be able to see me through the huge windows. I went to close the blinds, but then changed my mind, and pushed out through the doors. The call to adventure was answered.

I was living opposite the city cemetery. It was night time, but I could see clearly. I wandered the dream world for a while, speaking to my friends and investigating the detailed houses that lined the street. As I wandered, I eventually came to a sunlit park full of people. Some wandered the paths and some sat on the benches, enjoying the beautiful weather.

The dream transitioned while I was here. I found myself on a steep, grassy hillside and knew instantly that I have been moved. I tried to right myself and teleport back, but I could not change location. I looked up towards the top of the bluff. A samurai was waiting for me. I walked up to him, and he turned around in silence, leading me over the crest of the hill. On the cliff-side above us were vast rock paintings left here from a previous civilisation. There were humans mingling with winged bird-like creatures. They reminded me of djinn from Sumerian mythology. I looked around, amazed at the vividness of my surroundings.

The samurai led along the bluff until a small Japanese town came into view. It is nestled along the coast line, a fishing village. There were a few high-rise buildings constructed out of bamboo and light materials. I asked him what one of the buildings was for and he said that it was a place for doctors. I could see people awakening on Japanese-style futons within the rooms, and others receiving massage treatment from practitioners. I did not know much about their culture, but felt blessed to have such an excellent guide. He took me down into the town. We passed by the open doorways of peoples' homes. The townsfolk here were all wary of me. I stopped in the middle of a complex of washing lines, quite content with the idea of living here and becoming a part of the town. Sheets billow in the breeze, suspended all around me. I am introduced to a wise old man, who speaks with the samurai, and a strangely familiar male youth comes out to join us.

The dream fades and changes. One rather mundane dream in between I have omitted. I wish it had all ended there, and not in the way it does. I am on an airport runway, walking back to the terminal. My family is here, but they are like puppets; intangible, not at all right. They don't fit in with the scene. It is more solid than they are. They rush ahead, and then return, changing my direction.
"We're going the wrong way," I say.
"No, no. We are going to get on this plane," they say as a single unit. I start following them, but become so sluggish. Movement is so difficult. I am drained of energy, my feet begin to drag, my speech is slurred. One of the flight assistants opens the tape so I may step past. My family were faders in comparison and I cannot see them now. I try to say something, but I am so groggy, and fall away fatigued. My energy is gone. I have been fooled, but am not even allowed to see the face of my attacker.

--- --- --- --- ---

Dream 3 - December 2015

Only a fragment from a larger, hazy dream. My friends invited me to their cabins, but I arrive and realise it was only a gesture and that they weren't really interested in spending time with me. I leave and along my way, I encounter the Samurai again. This dream is not like the others. It is not vivid, and feels more like a normal subconscious dream. A montage plays out. I am male, and have been training with him for many months. I have been wearing heavy armour that he bestowed upon me throughout our training. It looks very fierce, with spikes lining the leg guards and pauldrons. It is impractical and actually inhibits my abilities, but I persist. My talents develop, and when I eventually remove the armour, I am stronger than ever.

I am myself again. We are walking down a street together in silence.
'I am dreaming!' I suddenly think to myself excitedly, but the dream is too hazy and unstable, and it is lost.

This dream was fun, and one of many that featured friendly serpents.

--- --- --- --- ---

One of my friends was looking for information on Rakshis. I assumed that she was referring to Rakshasas from Hindu mythology, and I excitedly suggested that I may have a book about them in my library. She pointed to a book in front of us, and we flicked through the pages together. This book featured information about the Egyptian pantheon. We looked through for information on Horus, or 'Hortet' as he was called here, but found very little that was specific. I turned to look at the cover, and the title illustrated that the book was about the esoteric significance of sexual love or energy as it was expressed between different mythological figures. Interesting enough, but not what we needed. I did have a book that would be more useful to my friend, but it was not on this plane, so I shifted us both over.

We appeared in a vibrant, high-detailed world. We were in a a great, high-ceilinged, conical, brass structure. Grated metallic platforms lead over a bubbling stream which ran through the building. It was lush with vegetation and sun-kissed pond life. We were standing before the exit. Light poured in through the opening, and the stream flowed gently out and down the hillside beyond. Forested hills rolled away towards the horizon beyond. My friend knelt before the book and scanned through it. I recommended she find what she was looking for as soon as possible as we could not stay in this place long.

Already, I could see the spiky backs of crocodiles bobbing in the stream, waiting for their moment to emerge. I told her to run back through the building and leave, and she obeyed without question. I was now there with my friend the Sentinel in the form of a dark slate-grey serpent. The enemy was approaching now and we were in danger. I scooped up the snake and ran back across the platforms to the elevator in the centre of the conical building. It would return me to my own world. The elevator was quite open, ringed with ornate brass bars to keep the occupants from stepping off the side. I dashed inside and closed the gate behind me. I wanted to take the serpent with me, but after I released my grasp on him, he slipped through the bars of the door. I felt anxiety rising that he would be crushed by the mechanics of the elevator and that I would only be able to look on helplessly. Despite my fears, he was perfectly fine, slithering around the bars without difficulty.

The enemies approached as the elevator descended. I knew they were there, but I could not see them. As I slowly descended from view, I saw the serpent coiled and reared up, cobra hood open, defending my path from our pursuers.

Very high-detail dream. Characters demonstrate agency and the Sentinel makes another appearance, this time speaking to the other dream characters. I also engage my sense of smell in the dream.

--- --- --- --- ---

I am on facebook when I realised that one of my friends had changed her name to 'Vivian'. I feel quite annoyed that she has taken my name, even though it is my screen name an not my birth name. Focusing on the post causes me to be transported to her location in a small Tasmanian mountain town. I appeared near her in a house that was being used as a small, local day spa business. The visuals were extremely detailed, I felt as though I were actually there. The windows were fogged from the condensation. The staff asked us to be quiet so as to maintain the spiritual ambiance.

I followed her outside onto the street. It was quiet. The forested hillside across the river was cloaked in mist. Huge red stringy-bark eucalypts rose up amongst the greenery. I breathed in deeply and savoured the fresh, crisp air. I was going to say that I could smell the trees, but I realised that the scent of the air was quite neutral. I could physically feel the air rushing through my nostrils as I inhaled, and I hazard to guess that I was actually performing this action in the waking world. Despite the lack of scent, I was still very much aware of the sensation of smelling. I continued on down the quiet street with her.

"Did you really bring me here?" I asked. She didn't answer, but glanced at me awkwardly. "Am I really here?" I asked again. I seemed to be intangible to her.
"I don't know," she replied.
"But you answered me! So I must exist." I felt like my logic was flawless.

The town was reminiscent of the one in which we both grew up in. We wandered the streets for a while. There were many shops, but most were closed. I was still astounded at the level of detail here. We met a spritely man with grey hair. He was a priest and seemed to be in his mid 60s. He was one of the only people we had encountered in this town and he greeted us as we passed. My friend suggested I see their local museum while I was here. It was small and quaint. Even though we were in Tasmania, it featured an old Japanese boat, possibly used for whaling, and a preserved bronze figurehead of a tentacled sea monster.

The dream changed slightly. I was in a building that I believe to be my home. The priest had returned with five others. One was a dark-haired woman and there was a younger man who worked as a lawyer. They were all wearing white robes and gathered close around me. They seemed friendly but were very curious about me for some reason. They discussed me but I was unsure what they were talking about. The Sentinel appeared behind me in the form of a female, someone I believed to be a relative.
"She is already pregnant," she said, dashing their plans. They were dismayed.
"What do we do now? We're running out of time." The woman said to the others. I was under the impression that they needed a body, or perhaps to conceive a child, in order to extend their lifetime, and the priest was reaching his deadline.

The others left, talking amongst themselves with no more interest in me, but the priest remained. We spoke briefly, and then he began to fit and convulse. His robes had darkened from white to black. I rushed over and supported his body to help him, even though I was aware that it may have been a ploy. He recovered quickly, thanked me for my assistance and then left.

A slightly disturbing dream, but with all characters displaying a lot of agency and independence. The Sentinel also makes an appearance, a speechless recurring entity who seems to only appear in times of danger.

--- --- --- --- ---

I was sitting by the side of the road in my hometown with two friends. We were watching a television signal, using road signs to change programme, but the device was not always sensitive to understand our commands. We stood up and walked along the northern side of the river. I was only a child, and my two companions were comprised of my younger brother and the young daughter of a family friend.

I saw a list of names scroll through my mind. One name in particular I recognised; Yosif. We happened to be walking past his house. It was white weatherboard at the top of a hillside garden overlooking the river. He came out to greet us. He looked to be in his late forties, but took good care of his physique. He was of Mediteranean background, with olive skin, slick dark hair and a slight accent. I placed him in my memory; he had been a GP at a medical clinic a few towns over whom I had visited many years back. Despite being certain of this information in the dream, I know of nobody named of this description or profession in waking life.

Innocently, I told him that I had seen him once when I was unwell. He looked uncertain, but my young friend confirmed my memory. He invited us into his house, telling us that the television signal was much stronger inside. We laughed and followed him up through his garden. He took my brother's hand to help lead the way. I didn't know this man well and didn't really feel like spending time in his home, but I wasn't suspicious of him and didn't want to be impolite.

From the road, his home and garden seemed to be thriving, but walking up through the windy brick paths it became apparent that it had fallen into disarray. Weeds struggled up through the dry earth, the grass was left dying, and the few standard roses still remaining were losing their leaves. Even the house itself was not looking healthy. The white weatherboards were dirty and some had rotted away. He picked up my friend and rested her on his hip, leading us through the garage behind his house. He opened a wooden gate for us, and held it open as we walked through. The dream characters of my brother and friend merged into a single 'child' entity, and the third position of our trio was filled by a young man whom we knew and trusted. He always appeared in dreams to aid me in times of danger, often long before I had even become aware of the threat.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I felt something was wrong. It was naught but a high-fenced pen. I turned to object to Yosif, only to see the door being closed behind me. I kicked with enough force to stagger him and made my escape. Yosif was distraught that I had spoiled his game. He started busying himself about the house while crying and tearing his hair. I hid nearby in the garden. I heard a woman's voice from inside his house, but she was speaking to me telepathically. I was annoyed at first, believing her to be his well-meaning but ultimately complicit wife.

"He drowns the children in a deep puddle beside the fence. Sometimes, he likes to submerge his own face in the water as well so that he can share in their experience." She told me. "The weeds in the puddle are a greater hazard than the water itself. The children choke on them."
On this information, I rushed over to the puddle and started to clear all the vegetation, raking the mud below. The water was grey like run-off and I couldn't see below the surface. She cautioned me against trying.
"Afterwards, he buries their bodies beneath the puddle so the other children have to look at the faces of the dead while they drown."

Disturbing, to say the least.

She told me to go and stay out of sight while she made a phone call and then rushed from the house across to the neighbouring property.
"I'm coming with you," I said, and cut across the garden to join her. I assumed she was going to call the police. I was relieved my older friend had appeared and been caught as well. He wouldn't go down easily, and may intimidate Yosif long enough for the cops to arrive.

I followed the woman into her home, an impressive mansion. There were many well-kept sprawling rooms devoted to displays of cultural artefacts which were open to the public. It was much like a small museum. She ducked into a side room and began to speak hastily on the phone. I looked around. This area contained many pieces of Japanese origin; scrolls of calligraphy and maritime implements. There was a scale model of an ancient Japanese whaling ship which caught my attention.

I noticed a man in one of the rooms with an attendant. He looked to be her adult son; spiky blonde hair and well-built. He had a tattoo of lettering in black and red across his chest. As he was putting on his robes, I saw this his right hand and most of his right leg were missing, but he still had his foot and could move it at will. When he had finished dressing, he looked quite scholarly, and I followed him from his room.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me what this place is?" I asked.
"This is the Temple of Apollo," he said, unsure as to how I could be here without knowing where I was. The artefacts in this room definitely had a more European flavour, but I didn't notice anything distinctly Hellenistic.
"Oh, I didn't realise given the asian influence in the other room," I said and walked off. He followed curiously.
"This wasn't here yesterday. They must have changed it," he said.

The museum was quite intriguing and had many patrons. There were model ships and spaceliners, bottles of googly eyes in every size, and fantastic pieces of antique art; a conglomeration of humanity's existence.

It becomes apparent that I have been watching too much Battlestar Galactica, I start having a lot of dreams with cylons. I also miss a very obvious cue that I am dreaming.

--- --- --- --- ---

I was a part of a fleet, very reminiscent of the one from the show, but distinctly different. It had split, and half of us had set down upon a planet to await further instructions. All the higher-ups were with the other group, so I suddenly found myself with more power and responsibilities than I had ever had before. We expected no resistance here, so most of us took the downtime as a sort of shore leave. We could finally breathe fresh air and stretch our legs. The atmosphere was breathable, and the forested landscape was very reminiscent of Earth.

We had a few large carrier ships here along with a number of smaller vessels. All were fitted out with a number of detachable, five-man pods, which could be easily moved or picked up by our multitude of small ferry ships. They were our emergency escape option if we did not have enough time to get the larger ships into the air. We would shuttle the pods into orbit and hope for recovery.

I was stationed in one of the smaller ships that was mainly populated by political workers; secretaries, advisers and the like. We all got along quite well, which was fortunate given how little space we had to share.

I was outside enjoying the warm daylight air. The youngest of our group approached, an energetic male in his late-twenties. He made a comment in regards to our continued survival. He was wondering just how long we could expect to live. The rest of us shared a knowing look and laughed.
"I have cancer," I told him. I was not upset by it.
"So you're dying?" he asked. The question took me aback.
"Well yes, I suppose so."

I wandered around the metal landing brace that we had been gathered around. The air was fresh and plants flourished on this planet. My older friend turned to face me as I approached. He had dark, curly hair and a lazy eye, but he was a very perceptive man.
"Have you been having any dreams?" he asked.
"I have, actually. They're pretty good." I shrugged. Any significance had been lost on me.

Nice one.

We were back on the ship, in a small area under the open air. It was certainly not a section of the ship that could be utilised during space-flight. Our young friend came into the room.
"Doesn't it drive you mad sometimes, that any of us could be a cylon and not even realise it?" he asked, exasperated. My friend with the lazy eye addressed his concerns.
"Whenever I start having those thoughts, I sit down for a while and use this, and it reminds me of what I am." He held up a fist-sized ball covered in a multitude of small, coloured dots. As he rolled it around in his hands with grace and skill, the spectral patterns would seem to move around the ball, following his guidance. It was a remarkable sight.
"But doesn't that just mean you are more likely to be a cylon?" the young man joked, marvelling at the creation.
"The orb is covered in floating, magnetic beads," replied my friend.
"Oh," another chimed in. "I always found that thing fascinating."

I was outside again, enjoying a quiet evening stroll. That's when the attack began. Fighters came in out of nowhere and began shooting up the ships. We were caught unawares, and the larger carriers would take some time to warm up for flight. I saw a couple of shuttles begin ferrying pods up into the atmosphere, but not nearly enough. I was too far from the ship at this point to run back, but there was a group of parked cars situated not too far away. I felt as though our best chance at survival was to scatter and pray that the rest of the fleet would return before it was too late. Some of the vacant pods began to explode on the undersides of the ships. We only had a limited supply, and even with all of them it wouldn't be enough.

A utility screeched past with my friend at the wheel and an empty pod in his tray. He didn't stop for me, but I took his cue. I dashed over to a nearby 4x4, selecting one with enough boot space in case I was able to get a pod myself. Fortunately, it was unlocked. I hopped in, hoping that I would remember how to drive in a punch, and dropping the sun visor. Keys fell onto the ground. In relief, I picked them up and hurriedly turned on the engine. The car growled to life and I took to the road, following another survivor in similar style.

Hundreds of survivors had fled on foot, running out into the parklands. Cylon ground troops had landed in force, and were pursuing them into the forest. I attempted to navigate the chaos, but the roads were impractical and the cylons were wreaking havoc. I saw a pair I had seen many times before. Wherever they were deployed, they never shot a human, but would take the opportunity to 1v1. The would chase each other around instead, and hope their comrades did not discover their little game.

I ignored them and turned my attention to the madness around me. I saw a group of cylons chasing down some civilians. I pulled the car around and paused for a moment. I was surrounded by chaos, and it would be futile to attempt to navigate my way out, even in a vehicle. I gunned the engine, put my car in gear, and chased down the cylons instead.

A very vivid dream with high continuity. My dreaming personality is a little more extravagant and dramatic than my waking personality. I also have a nice little freak-out when I forget that in a dream, people communicate telepathically/empathically. Weirdly enough, it is only when I type this entry up six months later that I realise that the family at the end are very familiar.

--- --- --- --- ---

I was in a large, detailed town. The landscape was shaped like a bubble, with the edges of the town curving up towards the sky as though it were situated within a basin. The town proper was quite dense and centralised, comprised of public buildings and several private homes. Apartment complexes stretched up the far side of the basin on the outskirts of the town. I had a home here, several levels tall. I shared it with room mates. Behind my home were several statelier buildings and quiet winding streets.

My recall begins in my bedroom on the top floor. The town is sunny and pleasant, but I am routinely aware of a presence observing me through one of the windows. When I look out, my vision zooms to a location on the other side of the town. I see a shadow shift on a ledge as someone leaves the area, but I am not fast enough to catch a glimpse of my observer.

I walk out onto my balcony. It overlooks a public sports oval. There is a crowd gathered there, some of their number are wearing costumes. They are rehearsing for an event the next day where many would come to revel in their self-pity and cling to their vices. They were a harmless lot, ultimately likeable, but foolish. For many years I had known them well, and counted myself as one of them, but no longer.

I return inside. I am with a small group of my friends, none of whom I know in the waking world. They are all male and dressed in Victorian-era clothing. They seem taken aback when I announce that I will not be joining the festivities this year.
"Tomorrow, I will be out on my balcony, smoking. If anyone should care to join me, then they would be most welcome," I say, taking a puff from my cigar. One of the younger gentlemen piped up in response.
"Smoking? Whatever for?"
"For grandeur." I declare. They chuckle. My closest friend is sitting beside me. He shakes his head at me, but laughs all the same.

I go outside onto a lower balcony with him. The evening air is enlivening. I get a better look at him now that we are alone. He is a spritely, middle-aged man with a grand moustache and a quick wit. He is always impeccable dressed, but never too extravagant. He sits in silence, drawing from a large, glowing cigar.
"I'm going to miss these, you know," I say to him, fondly lighting a cigar of my own.
I look out across the town. The lights are off in the apartments across the basin, but the town below is still full of life.

I find myself down in the town proper. Three single-levelled buildings are arranged around a common square. The left-most structure is the workshop of a local artist and jewellery designer. She has wicked red hair, and a strong but gentle presence. I notice a young girl smoking cigarettes and dawdling around her building. When the girl finished smoking, the artist burst from her workshop and berated the girl for the lingering smell.

I had known better, but it struck me as odd that I had already known without being told. I walk around the side of the building. One of my teachers approaches, a wise woman, well-revered by the town. I addressed my concern to her in regards to my own foresight. I was so shocked that I could know what somebody had been thinking without interacting with them. The artist was passing by as I was speaking, and stopped out of curiosity. I had asked the wise woman many questions in the past, but this one surprised her. They exchanged a curious glance, and then looked back at me, puzzled. I felt that it wasn't my experience that they found bizarre, but why now I should fail to understand it.

I was going somewhere. I would lose something.

"We should sit over there and have a smoke," a youthful friend suggested to me. I had been deep in thought. We were in a large hall with others, waiting for the rain to pass. Night had fallen and I had been gazing out the great, vast windows before me. This was a familiar place.
"They're covered in water," a female friend replied. She was right. A few benches were situated on the wooden verandah outside. It artistically swept around the extended wings of the house. But for all its clever design, the walkway did not extend far enough and the eaves were too shallow; rain water dripped down onto the benches.

I returned home, sharing a few friendly words with my house mates. I proceeded upstairs to my hammock. I was uneasy about the open window through which I could be viewed, but was relieved to find it had already been closed and the blind pulled down.

The dream shifts, and I am on the rear-most carriage of a speeding train, right where I expected to be. I had caught this train many times before, and even had a good rapport with the rear guard. I rushed to the back of the train. Below the raised platform where the guard would sit, there was a thick, steel archway with a blue, metal door. It served little purpose other than my own.

I was reaching my end, somehow content with my own undoing. I had known this was coming for a while, and now the time had come to the face the music. I began to speak, a conversation I can hardly remember.
"We all come to our end eventually, don't we?" I say.
"What do you mean?" the guard replied from above. I rushed behind the door and fastened it behind me. The train was picking up speed, but I wanted to delay my moment of passing for just a few minutes longer.
"We degrade, don't we? It's a natural process. Why should we fight it? Would it not be more logical to embrace this demise?" I continued my rhetoric. I had already resolved that it would be this way, and chosen this place because it would quicken the process. Despite my verbose monologuing, my stomach still sank when I began to see the effects unfolding before me.

I held out my left arm and rolled back the sleeve. It was fading away, turning bony and pale, but also ethereal; shrinking and vanishing before my eyes. I tried to remove my watch, but it too was disappearing and hanging limply around my skeletal wrist.
"Surely it would be better not to fight it, don't you think?" I asked to my final witness, captivated by the sight before me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said," the guard replied. I was snapped from my self-indulgent trance. The wind was roaring, but the guard's ears were keen. They heard every one of my final words, knew in their heart that I was misguided, and would feign deafness now rather than extend advice. My ego was inflamed.

We were slowing past a station. I deftly rolled from the train and skidded for some metres before coming to a stop near a family of three waiting patiently with their luggage. The train slowed to a halt beside me, the guard and driver both now in the engine. The guard, while distinctly the same person, was now a young female with straight brown hair. I stood up and marched over to them in rage.
"Fuck you, you piece of shit!" I screamed. They seemed rather unfazed.
Though still angry, the next few moments were filled with remorse for my behaviour. I felt compelled to apologise to the mundane folk - a rotund man and his wife - for shouting obscenities in front of their son.