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This is in no order, as I am currently trying to figure out how to go about posting these dreams, any feedback is appreciated. |
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Thread: Merkwürdigeliebe's Traümen
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09-26-2007 09:33 PM #1Member
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Merkwürdigeliebe's Traümen
I've kept a fairly comprehensive dream journal now for two years, including retroactive dreams. I like to keep my dreams in a large Open Office document, along with a separate document named simply "Working," a sort of scratch pad for drafting dreams. My layout is fairly minimalistic, with a special Dewey-esque classification system. I'm interested in seeing how others do it compared to mine. I'm also fairly critical of mistakes, and for the most part they are, I believe, reader friendly.
I've been around for awhile now, and only just got around to looking into posting a dream journal. As to how interesting any of this is, only time will tell.Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 09:36 PM #2Member
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Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 09:42 PM #3Member
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One part of this dream is of particular interest to me, every now and then I cease to be a person and am merely a omnipresent being in control of a game world. Please see sequence 401.9.7 to see what I mean. I also have another documented case I will post. NOTE: I am not retarded, "The Parkinsons" is an inside joke amongst my friends.
DS-6.25.2007-401.9 This dream began in the Far Cry world, with me on stilts. I find myself at the airport, badly inflicted with The Parkinson's. All the Zombies. Short sequence with Casey and Andy. Leslie, Andy, and myself trying to avoid the Zombies-- Andy gets bit though. In the Basement with Bob and my Great Uncle-- the black belt pagan warlock. Burger King. Bee simulator.
401.9.1 I am at the airport with my parents and brother, I also seem to have The Parkinson's disease bad enough that when we get to the security checkpoint I am unable to fill out the ridiculous paperwork. I had to write my name five times, and had to list the five most recent books I'd read and then give a short plot summary. How ANY of that would help discourage terrorists is beyond me. My Dad, Mom, and Brother both make it through and leave me behind to try and fill out this stupid yellow security paper. Assholes. Eventually I just give up, it is so frustrating and hard to even write my name once, little lone try to remember five books and then write a fucking plot summary. Asshole Transportation Security Agency-- bunch of poorly dressed Nazi's. The only nice thing was the styling of the airport, essentially Penn station but smaller. There is once main staircase that rises to the second floor where the majority of the shops are located, a large crystal chandelier dominates this otherwise beautiful, cavernous golden room. I guess I have a thing for gold rooms.
401.9.2 Andy, Casey and I are randomly doing stuff to peoples houses on Hoyt as it is extremely fun. We run down the sidewalk looking for our next mark, we pick this light tan two story house. Casey goes in back, Andy and I creep up to the porch. When the guy comes out to investigate, and already pissed, Casey comes up behind him and pushes the heavy wooden door with all his might, hitting the man so hard it looked like he broke in half. Thats when we started running!
401.9.3 This is when Leslie and Andy join the zombie evasion problem. We are out in the Far Cry forest, sitting on the damp grass smoking... in the middle of the night..., with zombies out to get us no less. It might've been a dream, but you can be damn sure I started bitching about us needing to go someplace safe, rather than expect ourselves to be able to detect the living dead whilst stoned. I am freaking out about the lighter giving off the only light for miles... essentially a beacon saying “Hey, zombies, our brains are over here come get 'em.” After spending about fifteen minutes smoking I convince them that we need to leave immediately.
401.9.4 I account for these abrupt transitions by postulating they are caused by my waking up for whatever reason, and then falling back asleep nearly immediately-- such that my mind continues with a main theme but differs slightly. The Gang and I are running around the residential streets of Everett between 19<sup>th</sup> St and Grand, and 11<sup>th</sup> St and Colby. For the most part I think it was revolving around Hoyt, but it could have been on streets defined in that rectangular swath above. The Weather is nasty, with very interesting cloud formations-- like completely black clouds. We find Leslie's van parked on the street, it is a white panel van-- and actually quite roomy and quaint, almost like a semi-motor home. The zombies eventually do locate us, so we slide the windows closed and lower the blinds in the hopes they will just go away. Unfortunately her windows don't latch easily, and one is broken all together. It doesn't seem to matter much as Leslie insists we leave on cracked for ventilation.
Eventually the lone Zombie tires of waiting for us to leave, which actually does facilitate our quick egress to a hopefully more comfortable place to chill. We break into a small white house and go down to the basement. Luckily there are some couches and windows at the top of the walls giving us a pillbox view of our surroundings. Andy goes to open one of the windows so we can cool off, when a slumbering Zombie comes out from behind him and bites him on the shoulder. I promptly smash the Zombies head in with a shovel and then my foot-- taking pleasure in its very visceral demise. He never seemed to get sick or turn into one, so crisis averted?
401.9.5 I'm down in the basement at my Grandparents house that was so integral to my childhood, with Bob and Vernon-- my Great Uncle; the Black belt pagan Warlock. We are preparing for the Zombies to break in and try and get us, George-- I forgot to mention Vernon has Multiple Personality Disorder, goes upstairs to investigate the noises that we suspect are undead traipsing around. He never comes back down, so my Grandfather and I start frantically going through all his different guns so we can mount our defense. We pile them up and sort through them, picking out all the shotguns and blunderbuss'. Our choice of ammunition was also very limited, we had plenty of black powder and only a few shells of differing calibre. We think they've finally made it through the door, and we here running footsteps-- which usually means they aren't the feet of Zombies, which classically can't run. We manoeuvre to get a clear shot, and train our guns on the stairs-- waiting for them. Unfortunately I never got to fire my gun, it was our red neck neighbours coming to make sure we were okay, beers in hand.
401.9.6 The dream abruptly changes again, and I am riding in the official parliamentary Ford Escort with Bob driving us to Burger King. I order my usual Bacon, Egg and cheese croissants, then he orders for himself, Conlan, and the Right Honourable Lord Mccoy. When we get home I eat two of them and save the third in the fridge. My father then wants to go to Safeway, once we get there i find I am once again terribly afflicted with The Parkinson's. Walking becomes a horrible uncomfortable and extremely slow gait. I can only move my right leg about four inches, and I cannot lift my arms above my shoulder height-- even then only with extreme discomfort. The shopping took forever, but we finally get it all done; when i get home I found out that my damned Bacon Croissant turned into a nasty sausage croissant-- which I think are made out of recycled dogs and cats. First I get The Parkinson's, and then my Bacon croissant turn into something else!
401.9.7 In this sequence I am not any longer a person, but an omnipresent consciousness, my realm is a large square universe with light blue walls. I can designate an entrance, and an exit, I can also modify the infrastructure. Apparently this is a Bee simulator, you create a environment inside that is connected to the entrance and exit, you can create atrium space out of glass, storage space for honey, nursery's, and living quarters. Pretty soon, after I have a reasonably sized environment created the Bees start coming in and inhabit my universe. Unfortunately another colony of Bees sends out a attack party and kill all of mine whilst destroying my wonderful creation. I try editing the options to disallow other Bees to come in till I am ready, but the options don't seem to help or change anything until it is too late.
How odd, I've had this happen before-- where my mind designs these amazing games and then executes the programs for me to play them. I've been able to “visualise” things for a little over a year now, a skill I lost sometime in my childhood. I can close my eyes and see (usually) whatever I want, however this isn't the highest achievable feat possible, nor does it facilitate creating and running my own brain programmes. I've heard of people who have practiced Lucid dreaming so long that they meld with their inherently born power to visualise and execute anything (dreaming), allowing them to essentially day dream anything they could possibly imagine, any time they want. You also hear such stories from Prisoners of war-- I don't include those people who go insane in solitary, as it is simply that-- insanity.
401.9.8 So I walk out onto my grandfathers back porch and there is this Turtle on the banister... I go inside and get a bowl filled with some water. I scoop him up to let him wallow, but he tries to bite me and misses his opportunity with the bowl by flinging himself away from me and down on to the grass. I leave for a little while, then come back to see what the grouchy little bastard was doing now. Well there he is on the wooden banister again, only he has been cut perfectly in half cross ways. I've no idea where his back half is, and he didn't seem to care. It was really gross, you could see inside of his body cavity, where the shell ends and the nasty looking dark green lump of his internal body began. Of course, I poked this nasty green crap to check its composition. My results were inconclusive other than wishing to vomit. I chucked the little bastard out into the backyard. [/FONT][/SIZE]Last edited by Classico; 09-27-2007 at 01:53 AM.
Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 09:55 PM #4Member
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Who here has seen the Futurama episode entitled "Time Keeps on Slippin?" Once the LSD took hold time stopped flowing routinely, One moment Jesse was on one side of the room, the next moment he had been sitting down for who knows how long...
DS-4.14.2006-801.3 Acid dream sequences. [April 14th 2006]
801.3.1 The hits of acid I dropped quickly began messing with my vision, but in ways entirely unlike psychedelic Mushrooms. Geometric, moving patterns quickly began strobing across my vision, t.v. characters heads were huge (this happens on Mushrooms), and colours began melting down into basic pigments. No longer was Jesse white, but a tan animated synthetic colour, constantly in motion, the colour dripping down his face. He had disconcerting mickey mouse eyes. I quickly became nauseous, and no longer pretended to be enjoying the trip. After vomiting in the bathroom my memory became very, very short and sporadic, an early sign of my declining mental stability.
801.3.2 I do not remember anything more after the above facts which I know are firmly based upon observed reality. What follows probably began with Jesse talking to me, to keep me grounded, then I slowly slipped from reality. I was in hell, and the Devil (Jesse) was asking me questions I couldn't answer, for all eternity, until another punishment would be incurred. My memory flashes silver, and I find myself stuck sitting on my bed, helpless to do anything but watch the weird scene before me.
801.3.3 Jesse, sitting in my computer chair, is messing around with some video, and gliding over to look at me so he can address my state. It's all a trip Sean, it's what you paid for... granted this was no help to me, as in my dysfunctional mental capacity I believed I had overdosed, and was going to die imminently. I imagine I now know somewhat more of the visual and mental processes of the deeply schizophrenic, its an incredibly scary, disjointed, and entirely random world. Ones mind creating short pockets of entirely altered reality, the two completely indiscernible until well after its passing; leaving you even more hopelessly confused and paranoid.
Jesse, in retrospect, didn't help as much as one could have, however most of my problems likely stemmed from the drug itself, as his efforts were certainly good and noble. The time dilation was extraordinary- Jesse, just sitting at the computer... and bam, you could see his trail of movement and in a split second he was there before you.
801.3.4 At some point I am hearing someone call 911, Hello, yeah.... uh Beverly hills police... we need to report a.... this phrase kept repeating over and over. I hear my mother talking to me, as well as Jesse. At some points I even vaguely remember seeing them, as well as a very stern and unhappy looking paramedic chick in a red vest. I am fairly positive I didn't actually see this, but was dreaming it.Last edited by Classico; 09-27-2007 at 01:54 AM.
Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 09:59 PM #5Member
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While this next dream pales somewhat in comparison to recent vivid meaningful dreams, it is one of my favourite dreams.
DS-4.15.2006-861.1 Probably my oldest, most thought about, and favourite memorable dream. My airliner crashes, disintegrating completely away before my eyes except for my seat. [This dream is at least two ½ years old, possibly four as I was no more than a high school freshman; added 4/10/06 to working.odt; added here 4/15/06]
861.1.1 I begin this dream in the cockpit of a large airliner, I taxi onto the runway, throttle up the engines and begin the take-off roll. The engines flame out immediately after lift-off. An engine failure after take-off is a very bad thing, a double engine failure often only leaves other pilots and the black box to tell the world how shitty this sorta thing is. Dismissing my thoughts about the slim survivability and not wanting to stall the plane I must nose down to lower the sink rate, as the plane would otherwise violently smash onto its stomach with excessively fatal G-forces. I watch as the last few feet of the runway whiz past below us. Past the runway on the exact same path is a scaffold system that runs a very long considerable distance. The scaffolds have approach lights, but also serve as a way of access the very deep storm water system, at least fifty to a hundred feet deep, and thirty to sixty feet wide.
The plane settles down into it, violently shredding the wings and fuselage away after a few short seconds of brief bouncing on the superstructure. The fuselage continues to slow down as we drop down below the surface and into the steel scaffolds.
It seemed my co-pilot and I, like the rest of the passengers on board, would perish violently mere seconds later. The remaining nose hits another scaffold, shredding the entire cockpit away, leaving only our chairs hurtling forward uncontrolled through the steel deathtrap. The wind is roaring at 90 knots, breathing is very hard with the cross-suction creating a vacuum. I narrowly miss a support beam, my co-pilot hits it directly, shearing away his chair, with an accompanying organic thud-- the sort of noise a body makes hitting a solid structure at 110mph; gone in the blink of an eye. As my chair hurtles down, it catches on a another scaffold and stops abruptly. I unbuckle, shaken, and fall several feet to the concrete below... my pains are numb after the landing. I lift my head up, pull myself off the cold ground, and think about what just happened... I look behind me, paper, fabric, and shards of aluminium falling from the air like snow made of flaming ash. Bits of fuselage, and bent turbine blades roll noisily in small pieces down the path.
The deep corridor runs on in both directions, gently curving as far as the eye could see. Designed, or so I speculate at this later date, to carry large water bearing pipes through a junction below the airport, and off to the city. As well as to divert storm or flood waters away to the sea. There was a large pipe, two foot in diameter, on the right side of the corridor (going back towards the crash), with two smaller pipes running in parallel to it. On the other side was usually a ledge you could walk on, as I would imagine in the winter months it becomes flooded. Every once and awhile there is junction, most of them are very short and sometimes have a door with a dirty lamplight next to it.
The light was mostly low, the dark tan concrete walls giving off a interestingly brilliant glow in places where the sun shined through the tattered and charred scaffolds. The colours in this dream are certainly vivid, with a whole range of hues, but mostly occupying a bright spectrum. Amongst the destruction, and unseen death*, there was an undeniable brilliant and surreal beauty to it all. There followed a longer sequence involving a girl that oddly enough I ran into whilst in this vast corridor, we continue exploring and running from the repair men. Obviously this had a lot more meaning at the time, and wasn't worth mentioning-- however like everything else this could be forgotten if not recorded.
*No bodies are never seenLucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 10:10 PM #6Member
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This dream was long ago surpassed in length, and is rather thin plot wise, however I believe it illustrates some typical dream quirks. I also make some long winded points regarding our brains ability to manifest magnificent systems (Asterisked). Also, the ass scratching part is a bit funny.
DS-4.17.2006-401.3 My longest officially documented dream yet. It begins on a bicycle in the forest. Progresses to sleeping at my grandfathers house, craving croissants. The book about the crippled boy. Apollo style command module stack, with the failed threat and its accompanying noises. Third person hospital dream. Mercenaries with the monsters. Worried about getting to school, huge multiple roomed tents for field day. Also finding Mrs. Burke's class.
401.3.1 I find myself pedaling a bicycle through a sprawling grove with towering trees, it appears to be the beginning of spring, the trees are fall coloured with the slightest hint of budding green. The sun cascades through the canopy, gently refracting off the dirt and gravel path. The light is low, but it sparkles brilliantly in the few places it falls to the ground unhampered.
I initially find it easy to pedal, though after shifting gears it becomes strangely more laboured, eventually causing me to shift down on more than one occasion. Eventually I get off and mess around with the height of my seat, as I figure moving it up will give my legs farther to extend and more power for the down stroke. I remount and begin pedaling- only to discover that it is even harder than before.
The sounds of the graveled lane crunching lightly beneath my tires distracts me long enough to be able to speed up, without the former strange recurring physical hindrance. I run into another bicyclist dressed in foreboding all-black attire. Even though he appears to go off in another direction I don't want there to be any possibility of running into him again. I shift into fourth gear and soon find that once again I am having a hard time pedaling. I dismount again, only this time I carry my bike and run for a distance down the lane.
401.3.2 I wake up in the middle of the night in my twin bed at my Grandfathers house. I check my cell phone for calls and text messages though it appears my cell phone is dead. I reach around the left side of my bed looking for my cell phone charger, moving coke cans, etc. After feeling two cords that are already plugged in-- one of which is cut and worthless, I turn over to my right side to switch on the pole lamp. I see my Grandfather laying slightly up in bed and looking at a framed photograph with a very dim flash light. Later on he appears to be reading a folded newspaper at arms length.
I get up quietly and walk to the dining room (known as the computer/living room these days), and grab my cell phone cable that I find laying on the floor next to the Mac G4 computer. I return to the bedroom as quietly as I left, plugging in my cell phone after laying down and covering up. I fall asleep fantasizing about Burger King Croissants, and I am particularly depressed because I do not have money to buy any and do not want to make my Grandfather take me to Burger King and then school, as it would disrupt my plans to go with the rest of the gang. I should have gone in retrospect, as we got split up in the end by another of my poor decisions- though I cannot remember what exactly it was.
401.3.3 There is a fictional book in real life about a slow witted guy, and his crippled neighbour- whom both become unlikely friends. I cannot remember the name of this book, which was also made into a movie. However it provided the very very loose, and basic outline of this dream.
I am leading the crippled boy away from the police and I assume, but cannot remember, his mother/parents as well. We do fairly well running from our captors until we must run past a police station. Whilst moving past the front we run into a cop who continues walking unknowingly in front of us. We duck to the right and into the police motor pool. Our timing continues to be poor, and upon seeing another cop pulling out we duck behind a blue police van... unfortunately our shadows must've been easily visible. The cop makes a quick egress from his vehicle and orders us on the ground with our hands spread.
I am uncharacteristically begging for our lives, for the boys life, as well as to make a point of not having my brains splattered on the pavement in front of him for his sake. For playing a supposedly slow witted individual I think did fairly well. Interestingly enough it seems during this period of the dream my ass developed an intense itch-- an itch serious enough that the cop came over and started scratching my ass... causing me to partially awake several seconds later to actually carry out the necessary scratching.
401.3.4 Because this entry took the better part of a day to hammer out, and seeing as I was busy all morning and lazy in the afternoon, I have thus forgotten a few finer details of my dreams. This is most obvious with dreams 401.3.4, 401.3.5, 401.3.6, and 401.3.8. However 401.3.7, and those above 401.3.4 remain mostly unaffected.
A recent, exciting development with my non-lucid dreams has been the sudden surge in space type dreams. Most likely, and understandably, caused by my recent endeavours with Orbiter. This is particularly exciting as only just now after many long years of enjoying the orbiter simulator, am I beginning to reap the apparent benefits. I should certainly hope these continue, especially when compared to the relatively worthless dreams such as 401.3.6.
401.3.5 I find myself in a relatively roomy space capsule (a single rod shaped cabin with various system panels and storage drawers) known in my mind simply as the Command Module, despite having no obvious physical similarities with the real Apollo Command Service Module. I possess the immediate, and totally innate knowledge of the manual & automatic systems & their subsystems. One thing I have going for my mind is that in almost all cases of *On The Fly systems generation the majority of all complex systems work from the start without any distracting flaws or errors.
*The human brain generates all the data for any given dream at the moment the dream is conceived. The ramifications behind this are simple, but hard to fully grasp or begin to explain beyond minor speculation. Not only does the mind take care of painting a seemingly flawless temporary representation of reality, providing all applicable sensory input, but it also manages to pull off hypothetical systems, and even totally unknown memes. In the past I have been lucky enough to have a ingrained sense of tone and music, enabling me for all intents and purposes to play the piano correctly in a dream.
*An even better example of On The Fly generation are the control panels and systems on this space ship. Ones mind picks up subconsciously everything it needs to create a complex system from scratch, and miraculously substitutes unknowns realistically. Instead of my mind mapping out individual piano keys, which is a feat in itself, it creates a fully operating system that is subjectively indistinguishable from the same comparable real world system.
Leslie and Andy occupy the cabin with me as well, though I cannot remember at this time what was said, if anything... though I seem to recall there being mixed, and interesting conversation. The craft is obviously not intended, nor designed to leave the solar system, and is probably built with Lunar or long haul Martian missions in mind. It appears from the systems panel to have typical on board LOX fueled main boosters, with a non-volatile rotational and translational Hydrogen Peroxide Reaction Control System.
Near the end of this dream a loud scraping, and certainly abnormal noise is heard outside the hull. After thinking about just how much I didn't want the moment to go sour, I tell myself how very improbable it is that something would be anywhere near us to cause such a disturbance... after a few short seconds the noise is gone.
401.3.6 Later on I watch the dream idly in a floating third person view as a woman holding a gun walks through double swinging doors, at what appears to be a very poorly, sporadically lit hospital. The corridor goes two ways, left around the nurses station or right around the same station, with a pair of double doors at the intersection opposite the way the woman came in.
The station is all glass except for the counter/reception desk, with glass windows in faded white wooden framing all the way to the ceiling. She opens the door inwards to ask the nurse inside a question. I know this woman as 'Rosie.' I ask her questions, but she merely gives off an insane cackle.
401.3.7 In a setting directly evolved from the random hospital encounter above, I watch as a squad of men fight monsters in the dying light of a few dropped torches. The man I am watching in third person fights loudly, shooting his machine gun in the direction of the perceived threat. The bullets splatter into the shadowed creature, who's family merely regrouped and dragged the man away into the darkness.Last edited by Classico; 09-27-2007 at 01:57 AM.
Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-26-2007 10:14 PM #7Member
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DS-4.16.2007-501.1 What an evening. the dream about murders, sopranos television mirror, stint in a Wal-Mart run prison, befriending Charles Manson, fording an Elephant.
501.1.1 It began in Eric's apartment, I probably don't have to mention it was very different than in real life, outside of his door were two long beige hallways in an L shape with his apartment in the crutch of the L. I would explore each a few times, bumping into some faces my brain conjured from High school. At the end of one was a restroom, which comes up later. As with a large portion of this dream I am sculling with my hands and speedily skimming the ground roughly a foot above it, I can get higher, several feet even, with a running jump but I lack the power to stay airborne.
Everything is progressing smoothly for no less than 10 minutes, then I go back to the apt and he shows me and his two guests the Colt he apparently keeps loaded. I go into the Kitchen and go about getting some food with Leslie when I hear two gunshots destroy the silence. We both run out into the living room and find Eric holding the gun and trying to act as inconspicuous as someone who just killed two people and is standing over their bodies possibly can; so fairly conspicuous needless to say. I angrily ask what happened, and as he approaches me I yell for him to stay back, he says the guy wearing the blue shirt was trying to do something to his Baby. Mind you, none of this seems odd... him having an infant and all.
The guy in blue is laying dead on the floor with his arm stretched out towards the chair the child is on, brains blown all over the furniture-- and blood soaking into the floor. He must've been pissed he didn't put coasters everywhere. I realise as suddenly as I tell him to back off that I'd sealed my fate-- he isn't saying anything and is being very passive. After a few minutes he leaves the room, and Leslie points to the bed. It would appear he shot the man in white point blank in the head as he lay sleeping, it was about this time I decided I was NOT going to be going back to sleep anytime soon in this apartment, lest I wake up dead and missing a brain lobe. Soon my next line of thinking occurs, everyone no doubt heard the gun shots and here I am in a room with two very dead and very messy bodies strewn on the floor. I am going to jail, no doubt about it. If I tell them what happened it'll probably mean Eric will kill me, or will somehow screw me over.
The time passes, each minute implicates me more for not calling the police myself. Leslie doesn't seem to appreciate the problem, laughing when I slip on Blue mans brains. I leave the apartment and do something, when I come back Leslie is vacuuming and the bodies are gone-- he must've taken them somewhere. Leslie suggests I tell the police I was at the Gym swimming, however I can see the holes in this idea, people have seen me here less than an hour before so I was screwed, an accomplice. The baby is gone too, none of this strikes me as odd though.
501.1.2 This is where the largest incongruity really starts to appear in this dream sequence, I think this is most likely due to my waking up every forty minutes, either out of terror of going to jail or because of the roaring winds outside the apartment in real life. There is a fucking vent in the kitchen that goes “BANG” every time the wind blows, so given the thirty+ mph winds it did it all fucking night. I'd wake up in terror, wondering where Eric was with his gun and dead bodies-- eventually I'd convince myself it was a dream, only to fall back into restless sleep to repeat it over again. Anyway, Leslie comes into the living room and tells me the police are here questioning everyone, starting from the first floor.
I leave, and walk down the hallway to the restroom. I enter, and look at myself in the large wall mirror-- suddenly I am a balding, 42 year old Tony Soprano (The mob boss on HBO). The mirror begins playing a new episode, so real I could probably have touched them. All the main characters are shown having their funerals, apparently they were all shot within hours of each other. So now I don't have a mafia crew, and I guess I need work. I knock on one of the stalls, a intimidating Asian man emerges and offers hit man work. I accept, and he gives me my weapon... a razor blade, great. I leave the restroom, find my mark down the hall and summarily slit his throat. I start walking back, another generic mobster solicits me to kill the Asian man, again with a razor blade. I walk into the restroom with this purpose, but the guy has the stall locked-- this is enough to dissuade me. After waiting outside just a minute or two, I hear him open the stall and I walk in. He knows what I came to do, and I come clean, so I am spared his wrath.
He leaves me to my own devices, namely worrying about the cops catching me. This fear is realised only minutes later when the police come in. Somehow they aren't competent enough to ask the questions I would have had a hard time answering, I sit there belligerent like any good mob boss would while being interrogated in a restroom. Just when I thought I was off the hook, they pull out a DNA testing kit and rapidly connect me to both murders in the apt and likely the man I did just kill minutes prior, though I don't remember. Soon I find myself in a blue van headed to the jail, my freedoms rapidly disappearing. The van pulls into the police station, a black cop outside opens the door and tells me to get out in a voice negatively reassuring. I am not given any uniform, just pushed into the jail and shown my bunk.
Jail or prison is bad enough, but much to my chagrin my bunk was an aluminium store shelf, and the jail turned out to be a Wal-mart with armed guards pacing a catwalk around the perimetre. Unsurprisingly the place was filled with indignant Mexicans and African Americans, who very quickly reminded me to stay away from them. My pockets are still filled with usual stuff, my cellphone, Leatherman, weed... none of this was ever confiscated and I did in fact continue to smoke as inconspicuously as possible on my bunk. I walk past all the aisles filled with typical wal-mart crap, and the inmates wearing orange jumpsuits, who are all making obscene knife filled gestures-- except the whites who understood my predicament. I make my way to the pharmacy where I ask for a bag to put all my belongings into, she tells me to follow her and she'll get me one. As we walk I crack a joke about Jail being worse than I imagined-- what with it being a Wal-mart and all. She didn't seem to get the joke. I spent the better part of the hour between two and three A.M. milling around wal-mart, unable to leave for fear of being shot.
None of this does justice to the terrible night I had, waking up in time to see the clock hit one, two, three, four, and five; Scared shitless by the threat of life in wal-mart prison, or worried I was about to get shot in the face as I slept.
501.1.3 Somehow I escaped after having made friends with Charlie Manson-- in retrospect this probably wasn't my best decision. We make a fast egress from the station, running down residential alleys, or in my case once again gliding a foot above the pavement. Running is impossibly difficult in these dreams, my legs lock up and go slower whenever I need to go faster, wasting vast amounts of energy; flying is more fun anyway. Between three and four A.M. I find myself at a very nice house with Charlie and another more devious man who I guess “keeps the world of the Lord of the Rings in check...” Manson keeps insisting I kill this guy such that I start a “seven year war” that would ravage both worlds. I convince him to drop it, and we decide to go the movie theatre instead. We walk down the alleys, but make the mistake of going down the sidewalk on one street, then the cops came. We ran as fast as possible to cover, I insist on waiting till they leave because I left my beer (!) sitting on a fence in the front yard. Luckily they leave and I get it back. Charlie Manson and I enjoy ourselves walking around in this very strangely lit neighborhood. It was either dawn or dusk, the light lacked any real life to it, just a dull colourless dim light with no definable source.
50 1.1.4I must've woken up again, as a new chain of dreams start. I am such a pig I guess, as the next hour I repeatedly dream about going into the kitchen and gorging on several types of excellent boxed donuts, my favourite being some sort of deep fried tempura donuts... mmmmm. Another strange thing that I didn't find odd at the time was that these donuts were all packed in sand... yes, sand. The biggest disappointment was actually waking up and going into the kitchen to find it completely bare of donuts, and for that matter all other food.
501.1.5 The last dream before waking up for work was quite short, but unique. I was in my grandfathers backyard, which I guess relocated to India sometime earlier. There is a narrow river running through it, and my Elephant refuses to cross. As India-Indians stand around watching I reassure the elephant, in Hindi no less, that it was okay to cross the river. He grabs my outstretched hand with his trunk and smiles at me as he crosses. The Indians found this to be a very touching occurrence.Last edited by Classico; 09-27-2007 at 01:56 AM.
Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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09-28-2007 01:54 AM #8I hope that fear of going to jail was only because of the dream. Unless you've been hanging out with questionable characters like Charles Manson.
Originally Posted by Classico
Your LSD dream caught my eye, with the funky geometric shapes. Two of my favorite things.
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09-28-2007 01:25 PM #9Member
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Aha, definitely not. I hang out with long time good friends of mine who aren't shady, no idea where Charles Manson came into it-- Usually I can remember an event that triggered it, like a movie or documentary, but I can't recall any event like this causing it.
Lucid Dreams: 14
Invisible Pink Unicorns are beings of awesome mystical power. We know this because they manage to be invisible and pink at the same time. Like all religions, the Faith of the Invisible Pink Unicorns is based upon both logic and faith. We have faith that they are pink; we logically know that they are invisible because we can't see them.
~ Steve Eley
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