Thread: Spritely's Dream Journal

March 18th, 2007

(Dream recall definately gets messed up when I sleep on a weird schedule. Ack. I did have a neat, sort-of WILD at the beginning of the night.)

It's all the same in Mexico

I'm walking down a hallway in my school with two other girls. We are all dressed in neat, sky-blue skirts, white cardigans, and sensible, chunky black shoes. We're supposed to be ringing out the noon hour, but we only have glasses of water and spoons to clink them with; someone has mislaid the bells.

I smile at a classmate as he passes, and then abruptly feel guilty. I'm not flirting, I think to myself, I'm just being friendly. It's who I am.

I realize that the girls I'm with and I are going to try to train as nuns. I tell them, "I hope this works out. It seriously was this or become a witch."

"Really?" one asks politely.

"Uh-huh. Do you know how expensive that is-- how hard it is to find a good magician-teacher these days? I might have to go to Mexico and study to become a bruja. But I'd still get to see you guys, maybe. There are lots of convents in Mexico, right?"

They agree. We enter the cafeteria, where they're serving hash browns, tater tots, and chicken patties for lunch. I frown, thinking that it's not a very healthy lunch for the track season.

Junior Librarianship

(I found myself falling asleep while aware, and hypnagogic imagery was sort of swirling around me. I remembered that I wanted to play with visiting the settings of novels I read. I've loved the Chrestomanci series since I was about twelve, and I'm slightly embarassed to say that I still read 'em. Ah, well. They're an awesome place to play&#33

I find myself in a small, whitewashed room with thick brown carpet. Sunlight streams in through the window, making the walls bright. I look around, curious to see where I've ended up. The setting seems late-Victorian-ish, or early 20th century. The bed is covered in a fat golden-brown, velvet comforter, and there's a maple wardrobe on the other side of the room with a stylized lily carved on its door.

I laugh, suddenly knowing that I'm in the setting of Diana Wynne Jone's Chrestomanci novels, even though this room was never described in any of the books. I turn to a looking-glass on another wall and study myself. My glasses are rimless and faintly old-fashioned, my hair is plaited and in a bun. I exert some control on the dreamscape and decide that I'm going to be wearing a brown dress (what is it with this room and brown?) with a blue silk sash. It works okay, but the collar is a little lacier than I would prefer, and I seem to have petticoats showing at the hem of my dress. (Ha&#33

I leave what I've decided is either a guest or a staff bedroom and walk down a plain flight of stairs. Eventually, I find myself in a dining room that looks out onto some immaculately-kept grounds. Just like in the books! I'm psyched. The table is set for many people to have breakfast, but I sit down, not bothering to wait, and take a roll from a basket on the table.

A young, friendly-faced blond boy of about sixteen enters the room and gets some food as well from the sideboard. He greets me.

"Hullo. Aren&#39;t you <my name>, the new assistant librarian?"

"That&#39;s the position I&#39;ve been offered," I reply, vague but smiling.

"Welcome. I&#39;m Eric." (Again, a character from the book. Wow, Spritely&#39;s brain, you&#39;re great.) We shake hands, and I&#39;m slightly amused by how polite and formal a kid of sixteen or so can be. We talk during breakfast, and he asks me where I&#39;m from.

"Oh-- well," I say, feeling slightly awkward, "I&#39;m not really here, you know. This is just a dream body I wander around in while the rest of me sleeps at home."

Eric looks pensive. "Hmm. I suppose it&#39;s not that uncommon-- other people do it, I&#39;ve heard. Won&#39;t you be awfully tired when you wake up?"

"I hope not," I say, getting up from my chair. "And I&#39;m sorry I have to leave, but I can feel my dream control slipping. I&#39;ll come back soon&#33;"

He nods, the dream twists sideways, and I lose lucidity.


March 19th, 2007

(Urk. I really, really need to get more than six hours of sleep on school nights. This week, I&#39;m trying to not rack up any more than six hours of sleep debt-- I&#39;ve already got two.)

Strange garments

The sleeves of my blue and white button-down shirt are slightly wrong. They seem to have slits cut at the elbows. I tug at them, but it does nothing, so I just shrug.

The Subject of Subjectivity

In my bedroom, back when it was painted pink. Someone is using enormous soap-bubbles with text inside to illustrate the concept of subjective reality and parallel universes to me. Each bubble has a different sub-topic in it, but the bubbles themselves are a visible representation of the concepts. The person teaching me is getting very excited, but I&#39;m bored and faintly peeved-- "I already know most of this&#33;"

March 20th, 2007

A Trip East

I walk around my house, hastily gathering things for a trip to New York city. I know that my train leaves at 1:29 PM, but every time I look at a clock, it&#39;s different. I assume that I&#39;m late, and I hurry. Someone is following me around. We&#39;re having an argument about whether I am or am not a know-it-all. I try to pry AA batteries out of a broken CD player to use in my own. I have to fit everything a brown paper sack and my track bag, for some reason.

I&#39;m concerned that I won&#39;t have anything like enough to read on the train. I have a green paperback book that I&#39;m half done with, and a silver paperback that I seem to have about twenty pages left in. The green one is originally called something like He&#39;s Lost His Mind, but as I look its title changes to something like He&#39;s Lost Out There, and then Lord Byron&#39;s Lost Out There With His Mind. I&#39;m faintly puzzled with these weird changes, so I leave the books behind.

I get into a truck with my mother, and we start driving towards the city and the train station. I&#39;m cold, and I realize that I haven&#39;t packed any sweaters for the trip. My mother suggests that I buy one of the dorky sweatshirts from the nearby ice cream shop.

"If you believe I&#39;m going out east in something lstupid ike that," I snarl, "you&#39;ve got another think coming." (Note: I&#39;ve never said this phrase before in my life. Weird&#33; Note that I&#39;m capable of being a bratty teenager in my sleep. Skills. )

(The dream then sideslips into an &#39;alternate universe.&#39; I&#39;m still in a vehicle on the same road, but I&#39;m younger and riding in a different truck with a boy. We&#39;re both complaining about school. I say, "I&#39;d much rather read books or do something else than waste my Wednesdays watching those dumb propaganda films." Dream then slips back.)

My mom and I pull off into a deserted-look library&#39;s parking lot. The building itself is almost shaped like a wooden playground from my childhood. We go up to it-- my Physics teacher is the librarian. While I&#39;m gaping at this strange turn of events, my mother informs him that she needs to plant tomatos. "Plum or other ones?" my teacher asks. "We have the seeds."

The upper level of the library turns out to be a strange convienience store. I look around for snacks to eat on the train. A really popular drink in this store is something expensive and chocolate and comes in glass bottles. As far as I can tell, it&#39;s called &#39;Splurge.&#39; I can&#39;t find anything I want to eat, so I get bored. My out-of-town aunt and my sister are suddenly in the store. My sister and I look at the cookies for sale, making cracks about them. There&#39;s a screech from outside in the road: someone&#39;s ran over a housecat. The road is a highway that should be on the other side of town-- I&#39;m quite surprised to find it here.

Originally Posted by Spritely

Junior Librarianship
Wow, Spritely&#39;s brain, you&#39;re great.
[/b]

I agree. That was a cool lucid, nice detail and control.

Originally Posted by oneironut

I agree. That was a cool lucid, nice detail and control.
[/b]

Eeh, thanks. I really like the sort of lucid where the environment tends to look after itself, and I just have to concern myself with my own actions and all that. (Or maybe I&#39;m just not proactive? Huh.) Anyways, I hope I&#39;ll find my way back into this dream soon.

March 22nd, 2007

(Couldn&#39;t remember any dreams at all&#33; I&#39;m starting to see a pattern, though: six hours of sleep equals almost no recall. Seven hours equals one or one and scraps of others. Eight hours equals three-ish. Argh. Now to bed, and hopefully to some dreams that I&#39;ll remember.)

March 23rd, 2007

(Hmm. Maybe last night&#39;s hypothesis is bunk: I managed to recall two and some scraps on seven hours of sleep.)

From Russia, With Love

I get out of a station wagon along with a few other people. I get the feeling that the people I&#39;m with are related to me, and that we&#39;re on what amounts to a family vacation. We&#39;re in the parking lot of the pharmacy in downtown SC, though the store is oriented in a different direction than normal.

We all wander inside, and I pick up a leftover St. Patrick&#39;s day button. It reads something like &#39;Be kind to the Irish&#33;&#39; I decide to buy it and a candy bar. I look at my wallet while I&#39;m in line, and I&#39;m surprised to see that I have more money than I thought. The cashier is very slow. She&#39;s a short girl with her reddish-brown pulled back in a pony tail, and she looks flustered. She speaks in a strange accent when she gets to me, and apologizes for being so slow. She just got here from Russia. I smile and tell her I had a co-worker a few summers ago from there. She smiles.

She doesn&#39;t seem to know how much change I&#39;m supposed to get, and neither do I. . (Money dreamsign.) Eventually I just hand her two singles and she puts the change on the counter along with a pile of other coins. I tell her, &#39;have a nice summer&#33;&#39; and go back to the car.

Groceries

I&#39;m in the grocery store with my father. The store is enormous and arranged oddly: they have the bulk oats/bran/sunflower seed section right amongst displays of bananas and plantains. I&#39;m wearing my silver shoes and dodging between customers, trying not to step on anyone&#39;s toes. The other shoppers are all unusually polite and happy, despite the store being crowded.

Big Savings&#33;

I&#39;m staring at some sort of sign, which might be advertising a sale. The letters are large, blocky, and red or orange on a white background. I try to read it, but the letters keep switching around. I know that this is a dream sign, and I try to commit to memory what the words say. It says &#39;Rare,&#39; and then the &#39;R&#39; turns into a &#39;K.&#39; I&#39;m irritated that this doesn&#39;t make sense, and I don&#39;t go lucid.