• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

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    1. #1
      Join Date
      Aug 2006
      The below is a recollection of one dream which I awoke to this morning but started two nights ago: This only remarks on what occured last night.

      Wed. August 9th: Awoke finally at 1pm, 10am alarm awake from first half.
      Iím not really sure why, but the dream continues in such a vivid clarity that upon waking I almost question why I am here and not there. I do know why after so long Iíve not dreamed, but I think itís somehow linked to the lack of recent pot smoking. Itís been at least five days since my last smokingí long time for me not, it must be some form of repression I gander. Today was especially clear and vivid and if only I could remember as much as the instant of my waking as now when Iím attempting to record this. Today was also the second morning when I have awoken to the same dream timeline. Yesterday I sense was the journey through the beginning doors of this dream, today was the continuing.

      Tonight was Weird, waking this morning I realized it was the same dream just later in the timeline.

      In the beginning there was a group of us approximately 8 or so people and we were trapped, not in a cage or a prison of sorts, but more like to a world with what I will call a puppet master. How he entered into the realm or dream I cannot recollect. He would appear and disappear but his description is as follows; he was a smaller being, migetish, wearing an old suit, ragged at the shoulders, torn and so dirty where there was once color there was a dusty brown. The group of people I was with was made mostly of friends or acquaintances from my past however, the finer details of exactly who escapes me. The most important factor to me at the time, was that we were trapped and the puzzle master always appeared to introduce the next challenge placed upon us. None of us were happy in this portion of the dream, I remember that much. The puzzles were difficult, deceitful and when we found a way though the next gate I knew to be weary.

      There was a girl. . . . a pretty one from my past I once liked very much. She perished before my eyes. I remember seeing her falling as if the floor had given way. She fucked up. The images of flames seem familiar. It was somewhere around door 7.

      I remember the final door was either door 8 or nine. Door 8 was a clever trick but we knew. The temptation offered to us was a room and a door. The door was tall, probably 12 feet and arched at the top with a sort of ribbed boarder which connected it to the surround stone walls. The door was wooden, old and on it a sort of modern shaded design of a rounded smooth triangle with a tail that wrapped around it in a wavy pattern.

      The room was very mid-evilish, a stone floor, which connected to walls which displayed either tapestry designs, or stained windows of sorts. The lower six or seven feet of which was stone like that of the floor, smooth. The prevented us from climbing (I think). Door 8 I knew was a trick. Previously, we had never been given a door immediately so it was suspicious. . . And it must have been suspicious because each other puzzle had been in increasing difficulty. I knew he would not offer us a door so easily. Temptation was averted. And actually it may have been here that we lost that girl in our group. I think she may have just become too anxious and rushed the door. But I almost or very vaguely recollect that the appearance of the door being either linked or her death. It may have been that we solved whatever the puzzle was shortly afterwards or it may have been her death that was necessary to produce that door.

      The real door appeared at first as a translucent thing, fading in from nothing, appearing on the wall adjacent to the final door. The shaded symbol on it stretched beyond the boundaries of the door frame and possessed a bright white outer glow which stretched in streaks of light several feet from the door itself. It was like what youíd expect to see in a damn Harry Potter movie. Once the door had fully appeared, the glow subsided and the puzzle master appeared. Our group was now three or four in total and upon walking through the door we found ourselves with others.

      Iím not sure if the glowing door which appeared to us was the ninth or the eighth but it very well could have been the ninth by virtue that the eighth existed only as a distraction or a trick and that any paths taken to open it would lead in death. However, it may be true in some rational that the path to find and open the ninth door required on in our group to die.

      My memory after the walking through the ninth door is vague, much more so then the other, earlier portions of this journey I remember experiencing last night.

      I do remember being in a rectangular stone room. These stones were small probably 5x4 inches and stuck out an inch or so from the mortar which bound the walls. On either side of this rectangular room were sloped floors at steep angles (45d) which lead down to a pit of dirty murky water in the center. There were people here not of my companion group and I remember their clothes were ratty like that of the puzzle master but did not appear to be old suits, more like robes. This place reminded me of like cellar. For now I donít remember anything more.

      In the latter half of my dream I have found myself with a distinct group of friends one of who shows up later is Whitney. And her presence marks that of a sort of moral compass through the temptations presented in this leg of the journey.

      The second half of this dream probably taking place after 10am alarm is somehow linked. . . and Iím not sure how, yet. Tonight I hope to figure it out. FUCK!!! Forget it I know theyíre linked and in describing the below I figured out it was the weather. . . the WIND. There was some concern or something to do with the wind and itís velocity that was causing issues in both realms I realize this describing the skylights below.

      I find myself in a hotel room. Two twin beds a small hotel refrigerator a window with closed curtains, no mirrors or apparent bathroom, although I did not ever look. Each bed had a skylight window about a 1 Ĺ feet wide and probably about 6 feet long.

      I was on the bed closer to the door and seemed to be a transplant not knowing where to go or what to do just being there. Someone entered the room, a short woman, older, possessing that typical mom demeanor yet dressed very much like a nurse in a white top with some sort shapes (dogs cats maybe) intermittently printed on the shirt. She was extremely hospitable and told us that there was everything we needed in the fridge, all sorts of food even a TV. The TV I remember being stored in the refrigerator, small and 1950 looking but about 4x5x8 inches in size. There were three or four of us in this room. I remember staring up through the skylight at times as if waiting . . . for something, for someone. . . I donít know but I remember the sky . . . vividly. .. the clouds were forming a the sort of puff ball texture you see ever so rarely when the sky begins to fill with that blanketing grey. These however were not doing that, they were ripping across the sky diagonally right to left, head to toe and seemed to be moving faster as time progressed.

      One of my other friends or acquaintances in the room who reminded me of this kids Chappy I once knew, had somehow acquired a large shiny black gun case about 2 feet across the top handle, seven inches deep, and about a foot and a half wide. In it was what appeared to be freshly printed money, 100 dollar bills, filled to the brim, and somewhat greener then the night befores' dream.

      I know that two nights ago we checked the money and it was all the same, consistent and appearing on hundred percent legitimate. Tonight was a little different. The money seemed darker in color and some bills appeared to be different. At one point in the dream I remember checking the case and finding some note pads had been placed in the case under some bills to replace what had been taken. Maybe this had triggered the change or it was of some persons but I donít remember.

      The money had been paying for the hotel room and it seemed to be our security in this hotel room. The context of the conversation besides the woman and some talking about the money have since dissipated from my memory but I will be keeping out for anything in my memory that aids in understanding what was going on.

      At some point things started to take a turn for the worst when I inspected the money one time and it happened with I picked up one of these dark green 100s and scratched at the surface of Ben Franklinís face. The large picture of his face scratched away leaving a small, dark, indistinguishable face that slightly resembled B.F.ís. I began inspecting the bills again and found more and more strange inconsistencies with what I recollect from the night before. Somehow the notion that we were in the future was already my brain as one rational was that money has changed and that it might be ok. The second and more concerning matter was became that if the money was fake, then we had been in a hotel room paying for it with fake money which had somehow turned to scratch off money.
      These concerns or something somehow brought me down to the lobby one way or anther.
      Oddly enough, in my dreams I seem to appear instantaneously from scene or area to area which, is why I cannot ever recollect whether there was in fact a bathroom or not in our hotel room.

      Once in the lobby I remember becoming overwhelmed. The lobby was mostly glass with black metal supports outlining the pains, and a shiny black marbleish floor. The room was much wider then narrow and on one long side the check-in desk. The desk had no glass ceiling above it or behind it and there was from my vantage point no hotel above us like you would expect only the face paced clouds rushing above. Intermittently throughout the room were chest high tables and bar stools (donít fully remember the stools except for a later conversation). With my back turned to the check-in desk, directly in front of me was the roundabout for unloading luggage and what not into the lobby. I just remembered something about a check-in and a bell boy, maybe, maybe it was from the previous nightsí dream. I donít know. To my left looking out the windows was a road and behind it the backdrop of a hill . . . no trees, it just resembled a lightly shrubed desert environment. Looking out the left corner of the room at the junction of the roundabout and the road was a crowd of people who appeared to be waiting in line as if for a bus.

      It was here that I first remember being in the lobby vicinity, not down within the lobby. I remember being outside at the corner of the building standing with the small crowd of people. The road was very busy. To my left the road sloped gently downwards gradually steepening the further away it traveled. Past the hill across the street there were several buildings indistinguishable as anything otherwise.

      There was once particular truck which caught my eye, it resembled the regular shape of a late 1990ís Ford pickup truck, black and moving quite quickly. What was odd about this truck was the passenger window appeared to have been replaced with a sort of armorish black plating and a tiny round almost port hole. I remember this so vividly Iím planning on drawing it. The design was the SAME exact design as the previous nights and Iím absolutely positive on this because it was this that I was looking at this BOTH nights upon waking up.

      Hereís the kicker, waiting in line staring at this truck I realized that this was definitely the future as all the other vehicles whizzing by some form of modified helicopter. Tub-like on the bottom with a round dome placed in the front facing upwards not forwards. The tail section did not go backwards and out but rather upwards where it met with a the main rotars. The first one I saw with blue and the second one green, or vise versa, but for a fact I know they were everywhere. This could explain why the truck I saw looked so reinforced.

      It was in this line that I meet Whitney a close friend from the real world. She appeared greatly concerned and dragged me out of this line back into the lobby where we tried discretely to talk. The conversation was centered around the money I think and the hotel and the fact that if it was fake that the consequences were going to be bad. Whit appeared older and thinner as if time had taken a little toll on her youthful beauty.

      I donít remember much more now. If I could write instantaneously I would capture so much more of this alternate world. Iím there. . . Iím aware Iím there and thatís what scares me. Especially when the dreams last days on end, transferring from one realm to the next. Itís never paradise, I know this. Theyíre not the fruity paradise stories nor the horrible nightmares although they may seem and sound that way upon waking up. Iím just there and that it, reacting, thinking and living in these dreams. Who do you know that can wake up and write something like this about their dreams with NO Bullshit? I ask you that. My dreams connect night to night with vivid clarity and a realism that would make most scream at the thought. I can wake up turn off the TV and slip right back into my dream and know that Iím there and that Iím dreaming but can be, at times, powerless to affect the reality only myself, my thoughts and my actions like in this world. Other times theyíre suggestive and I have control over the majority of the factors and digressions. Itís always been this way. . . when I was younger the dreams were always more positive. . . I could do the breast stroke and swim or rather fly through the air. I would find myself in my front yard enjoying a fly over the great lawn with Whitney, my dog. Or in the St. Lukeís School flying

    2. #2
      Join Date
      Jul 2006
      far far away


      whoa dude... way to go into detail.
      these jokes in no way reflect the opinion of mountain or his affiliates and subsidiary corporations, and as such he is immune from all whining, bitching, complaining, lecturing, the pointing out of ignorance, awareness raising, lawsuits etc. if you would like mountain to stop making racist jokes, he in turn would like you to go f*ck yourself</span>.


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