Thread: Oneironut's Dream Journal

Originally Posted by oneironut

I’m back in high school, I’m late for class, and I have no idea what that class is or what room it’s in. But at least I have some iced tea in a clear plastic container that’s about four feet long. Awkward to carry, but great value for the money.[/b]

That just cracked me up! I love how one can rationalize almost ANYTHING when in the dreamworld-- "Oh, this 4 -foot iced tea bottle? Yeah, it's a new product. I like it, I never get thirsty!"

Then again, though, it's unfortunate... Even when your Mom's got tentacles, you can never seem to lucidify!

Good work, though, you're getting closer with each dream. I, too, am re-entering the realm of LD'ing after 6 months or so of ignorance.

Keep it up!

Twoshadows - Nothing so exciting as a cave or rappelling, just a long hike in the hills near home that consisted of one part overconfidence and three parts stupidity. Thankfully I still hold the title for Luckiest Man Alive, so I got away with only some scrapes and sore muscles to show for it. Your dream reminded me of the moments during that little "adventure" when I thought maybe I was in some deep trouble.

odds - Hello and thanks for reading. That iced tea bottle was the highlight of my night. When I woke up I had a laugh imagining what the vending machine would look like.

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Cat Burglary
Tuesday, January 02, 2007, 1:09 a.m.

I’m standing in a brightly-lit, glass-walled room that is part lab and part cell. There’s a long table with several chairs in one corner. The room has no door, and beyond it are many corridors with spotless white walls. A creepy little man with dirty blond hair and a dark suit stands before me, asking questions that I refuse to answer. He finally gives up and leaves the room by passing his body through one of the walls. Now standing outside my cell, he turns back to look at me with a smug little smile.

Using only my mind, I pick up one of the chairs and send it flying in his direction. The chair isn’t strong enough to break the glass, but it still manages to wipe the smile off the bastard’s face. As he hastily walks down the corridor that wraps around my cell, I keep throwing chairs so that they slam into the wall near him with every step he takes.

Once I’m alone, I discover that the table is more than heavy enough to break through the glass. I step out of my cell and run down one of the corridors. After some random turns, I come across an extremely petite woman with short black hair and vaguely Filipino features. I realize that she is the reason I wound up here in the first place, that I’m somehow supposed to protect her. Without a word I pick her up and go running back down the corridor in the direction I came.

The woman goes into a frenzy trying to break free. As she struggles she changes into a humanoid creature with the head and paws of a cat, making her even more difficult to handle. I don’t have time to try and rationalize with her, so I simply look into her eyes and mentally sedate her. She curls up into a ball and falls asleep in my arms, purring slightly.

I run from the corridor into a wide concourse that looks like the combination of an airport terminal and a heavily carpeted theater lobby. All around me are dozens of man-sized insects. They are truly horrible creatures: no eyes, multiple arms, covered with a dark green exoskeleton and dressed in tattered netting. Each one is carrying a cat creature similar to my own. I know for certain that they mean these creatures harm.

I feel uncomfortably exposed, so I try to blend into the crowd by stopping at a bank of arcade machines and pretending to watch some boys play them. The carpeted floor beside me suddenly bulges up and adjusts its shape until it becomes one of the insects. Holding out two of its arms, it tells me in a hissing voice that it will be glad to take the cat creature off my hands. I calmly inform it that I’m not there, that it doesn’t see me. The insect lowers its arms, looks around as if confused, and shuffles away. Just to be safe, I turn in a circle and mentally project the suggestion to every living thing around me.

The scene fades to darkness, and everything that happens from this point is narrated to me by a disembodied voice that sounds like my own. I can’t see or feel anything, but I occasionally catch a glimpse of text against a white background, as if someone is holding a printed page in front of my face. This is the gist of what the voice tells me:

I manage to get the cat creature to my spaceship and escape. The ship, an asteroid-sized sphere, is very old and powerful; the tremendous energies that drive it are described to me in detail. When she emerges from her sedation, the cat creature is furious and refuses to have anything to do with me in spite of my attempts to explain the situation to her. I’m left with nobody to talk to other than the ship’s computer. This turns out to be not such a bad thing, because the ship is very old and has traveled to many amazing places. The computer spends the first days of our voyage telling me its stories, always referring to itself in the third person and never boasting.

Thankfully I still hold the title for Luckiest Man Alive, so I got away with only some scrapes and sore muscles to show for it. [/b]

Well, that's good.

one part overconfidence and three parts stupidity.[/b]

Been there, done that.

Your dream reminded me of the moments during that little "adventure" when I thought maybe I was in some deep trouble.[/b]

Which dream? If you are referring to the cave experience, that was real life. And one of my "been there, done that" moments.

Cat Burglary[/b]

What an awesome dream! And what cool powers you had. I love how the storyline continues on, and the complexity of it.

Originally Posted by Twoshadows

Which dream? If you are referring to the cave experience, that was real life. And one of my "been there, done that" moments.
[/b]

Oops, bad memory...I see now in my original comment that it was a "cave story," not a dream. Guess I'm starting to assume everything I read here isn't real.

What an awesome dream! And what cool powers you had. I love how the storyline continues on, and the complexity of it.
[/b]

Thanks, glad you liked it. The powers were great fun, but the most exciting part for me was the narrative at the end. Not long before I first learned about LDing, I read an editorial by a famous SF author (Robert Silverberg, I believe) in which he described a recurring dream about reading a manuscript for the most amazing book he'd ever read, which of course was forgotten when he woke up. This editorial freaked me out because I've had several dreams just like his. In a way, my LDing Holy Grail has always been to find that book (or hopefully many books) and be able to remember at least a bit of its content so I can write it down when I wake up.

Heh, this dream was definitely not my Great Novel.

The Crappy Stunt Spectacular
Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I arrive before dawn at a secluded location to witness some top-secret military test. Turns out it’s not so secret after all, because there’s a line of people outside the gate waiting to buy admission tickets. I join the line, and after a short wait we start down a rickety wooden staircase that descends into a valley where the test is going to take place. The sun comes up just as we get our first glimpse of the valley floor far below. The view is absolutely beautiful: heavily wooded mountains, crystal clear streams, huge fields of bright green grass. I’m so stunned by the sight that I actually hear an orchestral fanfare, like the emotional highpoint of a film score.

Reaching the foot of the staircase, I see that the path we need to follow has been cut off by a shallow but rapidly flowing stream. There are rocks sticking out of the water, so I’m able to skip across without trouble. At the end of the path is a set of metal bleachers, already filled to capacity with spectators. The stretch of field before us has a dirt track on it, with a metal platform set up at one end. Standing on the platform is what I assume to be the star of this demonstration: a sleek and very dangerous looking robot. Standing on either side of it are men dressed in black motorcycle helmets and black leather riding suits reinforced with armor plates.

The demonstration begins, and oh gawd, does it suck! The big fancy robot moves like a cheap toy; you can practically hear the plastic grinding. The helmeted men dodge around the robot, pretending to attack it. With a weak bleep bleep bloop bloop sound, the robot raises its arms and flashes tiny green LEDs at them. The men throw themselves off the platform like they’ve been hit by a missile. It’s all so gaudy it makes Power Rangers look like Jet Li. As I’m watching this farce, two young women with very long and straight blond hair walk up and stand close beside me. It isn’t an intimate kind of closeness, but an annoying “move before you poke my eye out with your nose” kind of closeness.

The next part of the demonstration begins, and it seems at least a little more interesting. Ten helmeted men on black motorcycles line up on the dirt track and speed off in perfect unison. When they complete their first circuit, their bikes have changed into racing cars, still painted black. One of the cars veers away from the group and crashes into a post near me. One of the girls runs over to the car and gets into the passenger seat before the car races off again. The remaining girl mutters something about being jealous. I ignore her comments and ask if she’s ever heard of personal space.

Hi everybody, I had to take a break from the journal due to health problems, but I'm healing up nicely and ready to pick up where I left off. I've really missed DV, it's great to be back.

Game, Set, and Match
Wednesday, January 17, 2007

I’m waiting to participate in a professional tennis match. My opponent hasn’t arrived yet, so I nervously pace around the court and think about how I’m going to get clobbered in straight sets. To make matters worse, I suddenly notice that I don’t even have a racquet. Thankfully there’s a small pro shop right there on the court, and after a few moments browsing I find a nice racquet for myself. The chair umpire is also the cashier, and I hand my credit card up to him so he can ring me up.

As I test my new racquet, a group of tough looking men shows up on the court and starts crowding around me. I try to be diplomatic and politely ask them to leave me alone, but this only makes them angrier and more eager to get in my face. Finally running out of patience, I pick up the closest man by the front of his shirt and toss him across the court. As he tumbles head over heels, I start swatting the other men out of my way as if they only weighed a few pounds. I never think to use my racquet on them because I don’t want to damage it before my match.

No Time Off for Good Behavior
Thursday, January 18, 2007

The man chasing me is in regular clothes, but I know he’s one of the guards here at the prison. The prison itself is nothing but open desert land enclosed by a wire fence, without buildings of any kind. On the other side of the fence is a concrete moat filled with dirty water. I somehow know the moat is occupied by all sorts of nasty monsters and mutants, and I’m running from the guard because he’s going to throw me over the fence and into the moat if he catches me.

After running enough to put some distance between me and the guard, I put down the remote-controlled car I’ve been carrying and start it racing across the desert. The guard is so stupid that he actually starts chasing after the car instead of me. The car is very fast, and I have a few moments of fun keeping it away from the guard, racing it in circles around him and speeding away before he can grab it.

Eventually the guard gets tired of the chase, and I suddenly see him approaching the fence with a young prisoner struggling in his arms. Just as the guard lifts the prisoner above his head to toss him over the fence, I rush over and give him a good solid kick to each of his shins. He yells out in pain and drops the prisoner, who quickly runs away. The angry guard starts to come after me again, but he can barely move on his injured legs, and I escape at a casual walk with my toy car following along beside me.

The guard is so stupid that he actually starts chasing after the car instead of me.[/b]

Funny how things like that happen in dreams. Almost like a silly cartoon.

Hope your weather warms a bit!

Hey there, it's been a while since I've had the time to really sit and read dreams.

Really liked that Cat Burlary dream... like how you seemed to have employed the use of the Jedi Mind trick to divert attention from yourself. I half expected you to semi quote Obi-wan by saying something like..'I am not here... this is not the catwoman you're looking for.... move along..."

Great dreams, so glad I got the chance to stop in finally.

Twoshadows: Heh, the thermometer on my porch reads 60. What a scorcher.

Vex: Lol @ your Obi-Wan quote. "How long have you had this catwoman?" "Three or four seasons" "She's up for sale if you want her." Haha.


Part of This Nutritious Breakfast
Friday, January 19, 2007

I’m spending the night at L’s house. There must be a lot of guests staying over, because my bed is right in the middle of the dining room where the table normally is. I’m feeling so comfortable and relaxed that I decide to be totally lazy and stay in bed all morning. After a moment I realize that it would be embarrassing to be seen in bed while everybody moves through the dining room and the rest of the house, so I reluctantly get up and put on my robe.

Walking into the kitchen, I notice the sink and surrounding counter space is filled with drying dishes. After fishing out a big bowl from the pile, I go to the pantry to get some cereal. L always keeps several kinds of cereal, but I’m surprised to see dozens of different boxes stacked up on the pantry shelves. Four or five of them appear to be a generic version of Cap’n Crunch, which was always my favorite as a boy. I try to find the box that’s already open, but it turns out they’ve all been opened, so I grab the closest box and start filling up my bowl.

Does Whatever a Spider Can
Saturday, January 20, 2007

It’s late at night and I’m walking through a deserted college campus. I’m moving in a straight line rather than following the paved walkways. When a low wall gets in my way, I easily jump clear over it and keep walking. I’m a little surprised by this, but I don’t dwell on it for very long. Soon after I’m approaching the corner of a glass building. Without a second thought I jump up, cling to the glass, crawl around the building’s corner, and flip off to land smoothly on my feet.

It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve somehow gained the powers of Spiderman. I’m thrilled by this because he’s always been my favorite hero. Eager to try out my new abilities, I notice a tall apartment building made of brown stucco just across the courtyard. The building is a massive structure that seems to be all balconies and towers. A perfect playground for somebody with spider powers.

I begin by simply leaping from balcony to balcony, but after a dozen floors the distance between them becomes too great for jumping. Time to try something else. Standing on a balcony railing, I tentatively reach out and press my hands against the wall. They seem to be sticking, but I have a moment of doubt. I imagine myself slipping off the wall and falling to my death. There’s no way I’ll be able to do this. Having decided that, I suddenly jump off the balcony railing and cling to the wall.

For a moment I can only sit there, but then I slowly start to climb. I stay securely stuck to the wall, and the further I go the more confident I become. After a few moments I’m scrambling up the wall with ease. Ascending one last tower, I find myself at the very top of the apartment building. I can see the entire campus spread out below, along with the surrounding woodlands and the city beyond. Another moment of doubt hits me along with a huge wave of vertigo, and I’m suddenly lying flat on my belly on the tower roof, terrified to move because I’m afraid I’ll fall. Again I remind myself that I have Spiderman’s powers, and he never gets afraid of heights.

Standing up again, I see that behind the apartment building are thick redwood trees. Instead of crawling back down the side of the building, I decide to try one of the powers I haven’t used yet. Reaching out towards the closest tree, I squeeze my hand into a fist and a line of webbing shoots from my wrist and sticks securely to the tree trunk. The line looks way too thin to support my weight, but it does so easily as I swing from the apartment building to the tree. I crawl down the tree trunk headfirst and reach the ground.

After walking through the woods for a bit, I emerge onto a city street. The buildings on either side of the road are so close together that they practically form a wall. With a running jump I fire a web line onto a building and swing towards it. Just before I collide I fire a new web onto a building further down the street and on the opposite side of the road. Pretty soon I’m swinging down the street between the buildings just like in the movies. My movements are awkward at first, but I soon get the hang of it. I even start performing graceful midair flips as I release one web line and fire the next.

Spray-On Video
Monday, January 22, 2007

I’m watching a show that’s being presented right in front of me instead of appearing on television. The program is about new technology and the hosts are discussing some method for applying video images to ordinary objects. I don’t get the exact details of how this works, but I sense it involves something like an aerosol spray.

The program segment begins with all three hosts sitting on a giant motorcycle that’s completely covered with animated images of swirling colors and abstract shapes. Then one of the hosts gets up from the motorcycle and walks over to a nearby table. There are several black t-shirts spread out over the table. The host holds one of the shirts up and I see the front of it is decorated with an image that looks like the screaming face from the movie poster to Pink Floyd – The Wall. As I watch, the face begins to writhe in silent agony, its already elongated mouth stretching open even further. Strange, indistinct shapes wiggle around deep inside.

Hell Hath No Fury…
Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The woman who has taken me and the others hostage has dark hair and is dressed in black fatigues. I can’t think of her name, but I know we were once romantically involved and that things ended very badly for us. Now she’s only moments away from destroying the entire world, and it’ll be as much my fault as hers.

We are being held captive in an ordinary household garage. In the exact center is a set of metal shelves holding a disorganized mass of wires, tubing, and circuitry. This is the machine that I and my fellow hostages built, the machine that the woman is about to use to destroy the world. It’s a crude version of the Genesis Device from Star Trek II: it destroys all matter around it and uses the raw material to build a new planet. The woman is only interested in the first half of the process.

As I watch, she approaches the machine holding a bullet-shaped glass case filled with wires. She snaps it into position in the middle of the machine, and after a brief inspection goes back to the far wall, where she has several diagrams spread out over the washer and dryer. I start to get very scared because I know the glass case is the last critical component needed for the machine to function.

If I’m going to stop this, I have to act now. I look to my companions for help, but they’re off in a corner playing darts and seem oblivious to everything that’s going on. The woman has her back to me as she continues to study the diagrams, so I manage to creep up to the machine without attracting attention. I mentally run through several options, but everything I can do has as much a chance of triggering the machine as disabling it. Just when I’m about to start panicking, I notice the small circuit board on one of the lower shelves. I remember that this board is safe to remove but absolutely essential.

The woman turns around and sees me just as I pull the circuit board free from the machine. She doesn’t move or cry out, but just watches me with a surprised and even slightly amused expression. I hold up the circuit board so she can see it, then drop it to the floor and stomp on it until it’s broken into several pieces. The machine is broken, the world is saved.

Now all I have to worry about is my own skin. The woman still hasn’t moved, so I walk over to her. We just stand there looking at each other for a moment, and then I say, “You’re going to do horrible things to me now, aren’t you?”

The woman gives me a sad smile, touches my cheek briefly, and says “No.” Without another word, she walks away and goes into the house. I’m not very comforted by her response, because knowing her, it could either mean “never” or “not just yet.”

There’s No Stopping Him
Wednesday, January 24, 2007

First Scene

I’ve been walking around a mall expecting to meet some friends, but I’m tired of waiting so I go outside and fly up into the air. Hovering high over the mall parking lot, I see a coffee shop in the shopping center next door. Bacon and eggs and hash browns sound really good right about now, so I come in for a landing at the coffee shop entrance.

The place is packed, and several people are already waiting to be seated. After a few moments a waitress grabs a bunch of menus and asks us to follow her. It turns out she means to seat all of us together at one large table. Sharing a table with strangers isn’t that big a deal, but in this case I completely flip out. I storm towards the exit, screaming about how I’ll never come here again. That doesn’t seem extreme enough, so on my way out I stop and start destroying the lunch counter with my bare hands. Food flies everywhere and customers run screaming.

Second Scene

I’m running for the exit to a large home improvement store where the staff has been holding me prisoner for some time. Four or five employees, all of them dressed in orange aprons, are hot on my heels. I’m afraid they’re going to catch me before I can escape, so I turn and hold my hand out towards them. Suddenly they’re all knocked off their feet and go tumbling like bowling pins. One of the employees sits up and motions for the others to stay put. I clearly hear him say, “There’s no stopping him.”

Exiting the store, I find myself in a loading area. Instead of trucks or vans, the delivery drivers are riding giant snails. I run up to one snail and hop onto it just as it pulls away. The driver sees me and starts a friendly chat as if there’s nothing unusual about a stranger suddenly jumping aboard his snail. I immediately get suspicious; the driver sounds like he’s trying to distract me while he triggers an alarm or something. I jump off the snail and sprint towards another one. This time I’m able to climb on without the driver seeing me.

Third Scene

I’m walking purposefully towards the entrance of a fancy office building, perhaps the corporate headquarters of the store that held me prisoner. I have a large covered umbrella tucked under my arm. I’m not sure what my exact objective is, but I know I’d like to accomplish it with as little violence as possible. A guard stationed in the lobby sees me approaching and runs for the entrance. I figure that’s the end of the non-violent plan, but it turns out the guard is on my side; he simply unlocks the entrance doors and holds them open for me.

As I enter the lobby I pull the cover off the umbrella to reveal a human figure, all compressed and folded up like a real umbrella would be. When I push the little button on the handle, the figure pops off the umbrella shaft and flops to the floor. It immediately starts to unfold and grow, and in just seconds I have a middle-aged man in an expensive suit walking beside me. This is another part of my non-violent plan; the man is a lawyer who will smooth talk us past any resistance.

Medieval War is Hell
Thursday, January 25, 2007

I’m about to fight for my life in a tournament arena. It’s likely going to be a very short fight: I’m on foot and armed only with a small axe. I’m facing not just one but two armored knights on horseback. They each have heavy wooden lances.

The knights begin their charge and I calmly wait to get killed, but then I notice they’re riding far enough apart to leave a gap between them. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I run to meet their charge. I get past the points of the lances before the knights can turn them towards me, and as they ride past I start swinging my axe as fast as I can. I’m aiming for the horses; if I can get the knights on foot by killing or incapacitating their mounts, then those lances will become fairly useless and I’ll have the advantage of speed and mobility.

The horses continue past me without appearing to be injured, but I get the sense that they’ve been damaged. In my mind I can actually see a pair of health bars dropping like in a video game. One knight veers off to the left and circles the arena to make another charge. The second knight keeps riding towards the corner wall and has to bring his horse to a halt. I’m there before he can turn the horse around, swinging like a berserker. As I press the attack, I suddenly remember the first knight and turn around just in time to avoid getting skewered. He also gets caught in the corner, so I start chopping away at him too.

Things get hazy for a moment, and when they clear both knights and one of the horses have disappeared from the arena. The remaining horse is lying on its side in a pool of blood. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m still alive and standing. I walk over to the horse’s mangled body and see that the poor animal is still alive, its head thrashing in agony. I intended to kill this animal in order to survive, but I never wanted it to suffer like this. I feel sick with guilt and revulsion at the thought of what I’m going to have to do, but I can’t leave the horse like this. I start swinging my axe as hard as I can, hoping that it’ll be over soon.


You’re in the Kiddie Army Now
Friday, January 26, 2007

I’m going for a jog down the sidewalk and notice a bright yellow school bus parked at the curb just ahead. As I pass it by, a bunch of preschoolers dressed in army fatigues come charging out of the bus and start jogging with me. I look down and see that I’m also dressed in fatigues, so I decide to play along.

We run for a short ways down the street and turn into the entrance of a white library building. It must be Halloween, because as we run down the aisles library staff dressed in monster makeup jump out from behind the shelves trying to frighten us. We all come to a halt in the children’s reading room and start clapping and cheering because we finished our run and didn’t get scared. My last thought is, “I wonder if we’ll be issued our rifles before or after snack time?”

I decided to skip the rest of January because of the rotten first half. Fresh month, fresh start. Time to get serious again about journaling and inducing LDs.

Goals Update

Goal 1 - Have at least 1 lucid dream this month
Goal 2 - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream."


The Fugitive, Part Two?
Thursday, February 01, 2007

I’m working at some store when one of the staff comes running up to me with a note. The note is unsigned and addressed to me. It warns me that I’m being watched by the police and could be arrested at any time. I find this amusing since I haven’t committed any crime. I crumple up the note and go back to work.

Later on, I’m approached by another one of the staff. She gives me the classifieds section of a newspaper and points out a particular ad. Like the note before, the ad is addressed to me. It’s the exact same message: the police are watching me, I can be arrested at any time. It suggests that I go on the run. I’m no longer amused, but I’m not panicking either. I know I haven’t done anything wrong, and fleeing would just make me look guilty. I decide to keep my eyes open and go about my business as usual, but in the back of my mind I start considering escape plans. Just in case.

Important safety tip, kids: If you're going to have a dream based on the Jaws movies, make sure you're the hero and not a supporting character. At the very least, have the good taste to dream about the original film rather than a crappy sequel.

Down Ya Go
Friday, February 02, 2007

A great white shark has infiltrated an artificial lake at a Sea World-like water park, and I’m one of two experts hired to kill it. My partner somehow has a history of conflict with this particular shark, so this job is a personal matter for him. He’s standing right at the edge of the lake, armed with a bow and arrow and waiting for the fish to show itself. I’m the one carrying the bucket of chum and standing well away from him.

My partner steps into the water up to his knees, using himself as bait. There’s a sudden explosion of water and a huge animal rises to the surface. My partner stumbles back to shore, blindly firing an arrow as he goes. I just stand there and watch since I’m armed only with a chum bucket. The animal turns out to be a massive killer whale that looks to be forty or fifty feet long. As it submerges again I think that maybe it’s big enough to kill the shark for us.

Several minutes pass without an appearance by any giant aquatic animals. I get the sense that the shark has moved down to the other end of the lake, so we run down there. The tourists at least had the sense to get out of the water, but a mass of them are standing right at the water’s edge with cameras and cell phones ready. I yell at them to back away and throw a big scoopful of chum into the water.

After a few seconds the shark appears. It doesn’t slowly rise from the surface, or even lunge. This thing rockets fully out of the water like a missile. It looks incredibly fake, like a three ton sock puppet, only with teeth. As I watch its ascent I realize the stupid thing has just killed itself; it’s going to land so far on shore that it won’t be able to even flop back into the water. We can sit around and watch it die at our leisure.

The crowd screams and runs in a panic. I stand still and watch the shark, because I want to see exactly where it’s heading before I make a move. It continues to rise and fly inland, and I can see that’s it going to pass me by easily. Right then the shark abruptly drops straight down. It lands on me headfirst, its mouth wide open so I go right down its throat.

The Breakfast Channel
Saturday, February 03, 2007

I’ve decided what I want to eat, but I can’t find anybody to come take my order. The small diner is filled to capacity; I’m literally squeezed in a tiny section of the counter. I can’t see a waitress, but there’s so many people around it’s hard to distinguish anybody in the crowd.

“What’ll you have?” I hear a voice ask me. Finally! I look up expecting to see a waitress, but there’s nobody there.

“Up here,” the voice says. I look up further and see the television set bolted to the corner wall. On the screen, one of the characters from a program is looking out at me. All of the other characters on the show are frozen in place.

Oh, I get it. This is one of those hidden camera shows that plays jokes on people. Yeah, haha, whatever. I look around the restaurant trying to spot something that’ll give the pranksters away. Right then I see a waitress dressed in a bright pink uniform. She smiles and winks at me, then nods at the television as if to say, “Go ahead, it’s alright.”

I turn back to the television. The character on the show has moved forward so that his face fills the screen. Hesitantly, I tell him I want some scrambled eggs and hash browns, extra crisp.

The man says, “Got it,” and steps back into position alongside the other characters, who unfreeze and continue acting out the program as if nothing happened. I shrug and sit back to wait for my breakfast.

My dreams have been less than thrilling lately, but I can't stand being bumped to Page 2, so here ya go!


Traveling Heavy
Wednesday, February 07, 2007

My fictional roommate and I are planning to take a trip to Mexico with a third person. As we discuss the details, I can’t understand what exactly we’re going to do. Fly down to Mexico and take a cruise ship from there? Take a cruise ship from here to Mexico? We’re leaving in a few hours and I can’t remember if I’ve even purchased tickets or made reservations.

Now the two of us are walking through an airport terminal. It looks like LAX, but I know it’s actually further south, like San Diego. We meet up with our companion, somebody I don’t recognize. He and my roommate are carrying small suitcases. I’m lugging around a heavy bundle that looks like a bunch of rolled up carpets. The bundle is awkward to carry and keeps flopping around in my arms. At one point a small mouse falls out and skitters away. Another traveler points at it, laughing.

My roommate and I are now outside the airport and approaching a two-story building. Our companion has vanished from the scene. As I follow my roommate up an outside staircase to the second floor, I glance in a window and see what looks like an apartment. I get nervous wondering if my roommate is about to break into someone else’s home.

We walk into the second floor apartment to discover it has been converted into a public restaurant. Several people are seated at tables all around the living room, and there are posters and neon beer signs all over the walls. On the kitchen counter is an order waiting to be picked up: a giant roast beef sandwich at least a foot in diameter and six inches thick. My attitude about coming to this place improves considerably just at the sight of it.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Army
Thursday, February 08, 2007

The entire century has been slaughtered except for myself and a grizzled old veteran. We wander through a bleak landscape, overwhelmed by exhaustion and shame in equal measure. Bestial cries announce the arrival of one of the enemy’s scouting parties: about a dozen filthy, fur-clad barbarians. They run right past us without attacking; somehow they believe we are part of their army, in spite of our Roman breastplates and gladii. Typical savage ignorance.

Alone again in this wasteland, my companion and I continue our aimless journey until we come to a wall made of dark stone. It stretches as far as I can see and has gaps at regular intervals. Passing through the closest of these openings, we see spread before us a wonderous sight: a mighty army, countless ranks of Roman warriors dressed in gleaming armor and plumed helmets.

We immediately receive food and water and are allowed to join the ranks. Still, I can tell the other soldiers feel only contempt for us because of our century’s failure. I don’t care what they think about me, just as I no longer care what I thought about myself before. As centurions shout orders and the wasteland resounds with the thunder of marching feet, all I feel is joy and anticipation for the coming battle.

Ugh...flaked out again on maintaining the journal. I seem to be in an on-again, off-again slump.

Fragments from last night:

1. A military firing squad executes a solider in the middle of a snowy wood. Too bad the bullets weren't made of silver, because the soldier immediately gets back on his feet and tears into them with a snarl.

2. I'm talking with my "dream parents" about some scandal involving a friend from high school. I insist that she's just the victim of vicious rumors, and find it laughable that anybody could believe such things about her. My parents don't seem to share the same view, and the conversation gets heated.

3. My father is digging a deep trench in the middle of my living room with a pickaxe. I'm really angry at this, not because my house is being destroyed, but because I'm trying to relax and the noise is disturbing me. I tell him to call it a day and come back tomorrow.

Tightwad’s Party
Thursday, February 15, 2007

I get a sudden case of the munchies and make my way through the crowd towards where I’m guessing the food is. I guess correctly, but instead of snack trays our host has set up a coin-operated vending machine. Several people are already waiting in line to use it. I’m really angry and offended, but I’m also really hungry, so I join the line like everybody else. As I move closer to the front, I discover our host is an idiot as well as cheap. The vending machine works like a newspaper box: you put in a coin, then pull open the cabinet and take what you want. When the girl ahead of me drops her coin in the slot, I tell her to grab a paper for us, too. The rest of the line laughs at my brilliant humor.

The Pinball Apprentice
Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I’m watching somebody play a pinball machine. When he finishes and I start to play, he puts a bunch of quarters on the cabinet to indicate he has the next turn. I’m annoyed by this but try to keep my attention on the game. I’m playing very well for such a complicated pinball machine with so many flippers located all over the board. The machine isn’t set to be very sensitive, either; several times I practically turn the thing on its side without getting a single TILT warning.

A group of kids comes over to watch me play, three of them standing on either side of the machine. They start to interfere by leaning over the cabinet and blocking my view. One of the punks even climbs up on the glass. I yell at them to get out of the way and try to keep my focus, but I soon lose my third and final ball.

As upset as I am over losing the game, I figure that I played well enough at the start to have racked up a decent score. That’s when I look up at the scoreboard and discover I made only 9 million points, pretty pathetic for pinball. I’m tempted to start some trouble with the kids who distracted me, but instead I just walk off while the guy I watched before starts a new game.

I'm glad you are keeping up the journal.

I'm still waiting for your next Lucid Dream....