Thread: And Another One

I fell asleep last night wondering about dreamsharing and thinking about who i'd love to do it with. I decided that if I became lucid I would just create a pseudo friend (DC) to keep me company. What follows is the dream(s) that emerged. I can't tell if it was one dream or two. They seemed to flow fluidly.


Last night. Non-lucid.

My eyes are closed because it's too bright to see. I open them and keep them lowered to the ground. There is water at my feet and mud under my heel. I'm wearing blue Chuck Taylors and suddenly I know I'm in high school again, and in Victorville. I tell myself that the sun is always "So damn bright--jesus, even when it's cloudy out here. I should buy some sunglasses."

I recognize the riverbed--the Mojave River and I watch the fresh water drift away from me--it's all so soothing and harmonious. The birds over head are finding shelter in the rocks; the breeze sways the weeds of the neighboring meadow, and I can see it's going to rain soon.

I turn around to see my high school boyfriend sitting on a rock poking mud with a stick, and I'm filled with this immense happiness. I remember this day! This is the day we kissed in the rain.

Knowing what is about to happen, I feel playful. I can see the mud on his shoes and the dirt on his sweater--I recognize the moment.

I want to kiss him. I can already feel him.

I sneak up behind him as if I was two years old,
but I'm five steps away when I remember we're broken up and he's gay
and I've misinterpreted the moment.

I'm stuck in the wrong memory. Suddenly there is a flash and i see an old diary entry ruined with tear drops. A rain drop falls on my hair and I'm back in the present.

I'm an immature seventeen year old inside. I want to cry, I want to run, I want to hurt him as much as he's hurt me.

"What are you doing here?" i yell. "This is my place."

He keeps his back turned to me, keeps poking the stick in the mud, he's drawing something.

"This is OUR place."

I walk closer to him. I see his side profile. The sun comes out from behind the clouds for just a moment. It illuminates him. There is nothing but pain inside--it makes my whole body ache and every last bit of my will is working hard to stop the shaking
to stop the tears.

His eyes are cast to the ground. There is no blinking, no slight flutter of the lashes.

He is perfectly still.

I realize that I'm not the only one who has lost something here and my empathy goes to the life he's going to live from now on--because I know how hard it is to be different.

I place my hand on his shoulder and neither of us move--on my part because he's ice cold.

I come to the slow realization that this is not my exboyfriend--this is not even human.

It stands upright and leviates above the rock it was perched on. It is inhabiting his body, his skin--but it is naked,with no organs or nipples or texture--that word comes to mind as I look at it.

It's eyes are this deep and incredibly dark black. I blink and it's sitting on the bolder again, fully clothed and looking human, but the eyes persist.
And then he speaks:

"This is only a moment in time. A moment of many that are, many that were. And in your life there are many more that will come. And as this did, so will those inspire you. To think or feel or be.

There are many other experiences to be had on your world. You musn't return to this one any longer. There is no logical reasoning behind such an action. The numbers compose no favorable gain. Your own mathematics attest to its uselessness."

Here things get fuzzy.

He begins to sing what I recognize as the Latin Hail Mary: "Ahhhhhhhhh-vehhh Mari------------------ah..."

A record player appears on a near by rock and he lowers the needle.

A symphony is playing in my eardrums, it's coming from all angles
there is a blinding white light and I'm surrounded in white nothingness. The music goes on keeps playing. It is still singing.

I blink away the light and find myself in darkess again, but ahead of me are moving images.

I'm a businesswoman and I look amazing. I'm 45 and in a pencil skirt and in front of a board of old white balding men. Eveything in the scene is black, white, gray, cold.
I have a suit case, I catch a plane. And the music continues to play. I'm drinking a martini and unbuttoning my blouse. A younger man sits beside me, takes down notes, answers calls. He is my assistant. The pilot retreates to his cabin.

I grab my assistant by the lapels and kiss behind his ear and grab his thigh.

darkness

and I'm in a hotel room smoking. My assitant is buttoning up his shirt.
I get the sense that I die alone, though financially wealthy.


Darkness and I'm full of regret.

I'm a young English professor at NYU
I've got glasses and boheme attire.
I'm dating the Physics Professor
He drives us home.
We live in Morningside.
There is a neat little living room set, and i sit and scratch his scalp as he turns on the news and tells me about his day. And the music continues to play.
I can tell he loves me, and I know I love him.

There is darkness and I feel a sense of peace.

Tiles. Hundreds and hundreds of white tiles. They turn blue, they turn black, they are checkered. Moving, moving at a high speed. Faster and faster and
Linoleum.

Immobile Linoleum.

my sneakers.

I am a doctor. This is my patient's room. I'm in Ohio.
There is paper work. POV vision. A clipboard.

I'm leaving. There is a meeting. AIDS in Africa, genocide in Darfur, genital mutilation in Malasia. And the music continues to play.

Work is my priority, I am alone and hardly see my family.

Darkness and I know I died living life that way. I feel a sense of urgency.

Flashing lights
dancers
a curtain
I look to my side and a man with a mustache smiles and says "You're up in 2."

I'm sitting by a well lit mirror, I've got a wig on. My hands fall to my lap and I feel the lace on my skirt. My name is called and i rush to the stage.

There are thousands of eyes watching me and suddenly I know that i'm an actress on broadway in "The Importance of Being Earnest."

And the music continues to play.

There is a man in the first row, holding a sleeping toddler. And I know he's my husband.

Darkness again. This time I know I was very happy.

But the darkness doesn't lift this time.

I look around and the screen is a blank whiteness that oddly enough produces little light.

I panic a little.

I start to feel around.

I'm sitting.

A light comes in through a doorway behind me. A shadow stands in it.

"Honey?"

I realize I'm in a theater.

"Vanessa, are you ready to go?"

I can't make out its voice, but I know it's male.

I wake up.

Soooo weird.

I didn't know if my second dream was going to fit so I'm making it a new reply.

I think it's kind of weird that my first dream of the night (that i remember) had a bit of an emphasis on monogamy because I'm not big on relationships. In fact I'm active in the BDSM SF community and the most common relationships there are polyamorus.

I've actually been in a couple and I really like it. There is no tension, less possesiveness and a LOT more freedom. It's like a circle of friends with benefits, some of whom you have emotional ties to.

A lot of monogamous people that I encounter really look down on this sort of lifestyle, but really it's no different than your typical bachelor's---

the only difference is, everyone that he's sleeping with KNOWS that he's sleeping with everyone else and ON TOP of that, they are all friends.

Which makes for some killer ---

well anyway, this journal isn't supposed to be about sex, it's about dreams.

However, the next dream I had could have passed for amateur porn.

Meaning it was funny, and kinda hot.

The dream is basically a rendition of how my life used to go as far as sex and polyamory; it's at a standstill right now because I've pursued educational goals in other parts of the state for now. But good god.... This was probably my subconscious saying, "Hey, Como, I miss home, don't you?"


I'm laying in my friend *Erika*'s bed and she's just getting out of the shower. I got out a few minutes earlier and am waiting around looking for something good to watch on TV. We usually shower together but she needed to shave today and since I was all done with my grooming anyway, I decided to just lay around and be useless for a few minutes.

Her boyfriend *Dylan*, is in the kitchen in his navy blue briefs that Erika finds so "adorable." I laugh at him and tell him he has "No ass."

He says I have enough of that for the both of us and tries to kiss me. Laughing I push him away and yell "Errrrika! He's starting without you!"

And she laughs and yells back "Play nice kids. Haha, I don't mind, I'm almost done anyway. I'd ask if y'all mind a wet pussy but we all know how that's going to end."

He says "See?" and smiles and kisses me anyway. But i'm feeling like playing hard to get. I smack him in the face with a pillow and he responds by grabbing my hips and pulling me down, so that his face is right above my bra. He kisses the lace and pulls my shorts down. His face disappears between my thighs. And I can feel him, every movement.

I'm holding back a moan when Erika appears, hair still wet and smelling like shampoo.

"Hey you," I say and she sits beside me on the futon and says "Hi" as she starts to kiss me.

It all feels so real and i wake up with the smell of her shampoo still in my nose.

Good God I miss SF.

Wow. Such great imagery.

Glad you decided to start up a journal, Como. Looking forward to reading some more of your entries.

(Love the introduction, btw. Haha.)

LUCID!!! in green. Dream state before hand....I'm gonna go with orange.

I couldn't sleep so I did that whole meditating thing i've done since i was a kid, where I make things appear in my head. Kinda like the darkness (when my eyes are closed) is a blank canvas and I just will colors to appear. After a while the colors fade and I begin to think of Kianna Alarid and how amazingly attractive she is.
I get out of bed, but when I return to it it's lighter outside and I think, Jesus did I stay up ALL night? Shit I have school today.
I slip under the covers and Kianna is beside me wrapped up in my blanket, still wearing her undershirt from the show. Holy shit, I think, I'm dreaming. Yes!! Yesss Yes!!!!! i worry about waking her, but then decide that she won't wake up until i want her to and so, i do a little "hurrah, I'm lucid!" victory dance. But then things begin to feel unstable, and so i decide that maybe the dream gods (more like dream karma) isn't too thrilled about me being cocky. So i slow down and concentrate on observing the scene. I can see her body move as she's breathing. I move to get closer to her but suddenly i feel really dirty. No, i say aloud. I want to be alone. She disappears and there is no trace that she was ever there. the bed is perfectly made. I crawl into bed and decide to SLEEP of all things. So i do.

I woke up and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was actually awake and not once again dreaming. I really need new reality check methods.

Non-Lucid


After I woke up to write up the lucid dream I had, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep. When I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate the noises from outside ( and inside ) the house would distract me--mostly because they created their own colors on my closed-eye-canvas (see third DJ entry) and wrecked my concentratrion. I thought maybe this meant I was already dreaming but no go. The last thing i remember before falling asleep was thinking i heard someone say "...Hey!" but I didn't try to explain it away.

"HEY!"

Someone yells at me again.

"You'd better wake up, she'll be here in about 2 minutes."

I think "Huh?" and open my eyes to light oak wood. I lift my head and realize I'm sitting in a desk-chair apparatus, like the ones we used to have in my high school--except that I know I'm in college. At Berkeley.

This next little tidbit should have thrown me off.

I rush to the window to get a better look and instead of having a POV image, I see my head sticking out of a window of an old building that looks a lot like Berkeley's Bancroft Library--As if it was a different angle/frame of a movie.

I look around the room and half of it is made up by a stage while the other half is a small section of 9 desks with a teacher's in front beside a mobile chalkboard. The "house curtains" are multicolored and there is a brightness--as in a ...i can't describe the feeling That's the only word that comes to mind. A brightness to the room. But this doesn't translate to "happy."
The teacher walks in [She looks like she's from the early 1960's;brown teased hair, plaid skirt, dark liner and hoop earrings.]and suddenly we are working on some assignment. And then watching a video--time passes by slowly through my senses but quickly in my eyes, with that slight monotony that comes with being some place you don't particulary want to be.

at first i think i really like this class and this teacher--but they don't like me at all. I'm reading a book when the instructor comes over and says "That's enough. I'm tired of you! I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But...why?"

I don't remember her dialogue here, but i remember that my vision became panoramic, and everything slowed down. I was really hurt by this, for what i realized later in the dream were completely internal reasons. She was outing me in front of my classmates, and my own self consciousness was making it worse.

I held back emotion--note, emotion, not tears--and said "Very well then, if that's what you want." And began to collect my things that were for some reason scattered and hidden around the room. My classmates were indifferent and glad to see me leave- I got the impression that they thought i was stuck up when the truth was I was just so afraid and uncomfortable socially.

the teacher's face softens as she sees me gather my things.

I go backstage and as soon as i walk though the door I'm in what the "me" in the dream recognizes as Carrie Bradshaw's apartment from Sex and the City. But it didn't really look like that at all.

there was a long dark, fungus green colored hall in front of me and a door to my right with a small hall before it. the door was ajar and i could see the bathroom.

I hadn't walked more than five steps when I started to wonder why this place was so empty. I heard a "SSSSsssssssssss" sound, the kind of sound you hear when something is being sprayed consistently. I notice the furniture is drab and looks damaged. there is a note on the table, i pick it up and read:

"Note to self: get all valuables out before extermination."

Extermination?! i think And THEN

i see this HUGE cockroach looking bug on my wrist. i knock it off me
but there's one on my upper arm

ankle

calf

collarbone

There's something wriggling on my chest, I lift my shirt up and they cascade down like a fucking waterfall of ickyness.

I'm not afraid of bugs, but when they gang up on me i get a bit paranoid. So you can imagine my anxiety:

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh!" I scream and run down the hall.

I catch a glipse of my hair as I'm running. It's curly and fucking BLONDE. "What the fuck!?" I'm running and I'm distracted and I run right into the arms of a man who towers over me.

I feel safe...ish. Looking up I see that it's none other than Mr.Big (carrie's love interest from sex in the city, for you non viewers)

He looks at me, frazzled and says : "Carrie? What the hell are you doing here?"

There is now a mirror across the way and I see Sarah Jessica Parker's face reflected. I put a hand to my face in disbelief

but the door i came through--the backstage door, is wide open and i can see the teacher and schoolmates still waiting.

Mr. Big has vanished and i know i'm "me" again.

I pick up where i left off as if nothing had happened--and they follow suit.

I'm out the door of the building when the teacher says: "....you know, you could visit...I'd be nice to see your style again...sometime."

But I'm rabid and all i can think is "Hypocritical bitch."

There is an itch on my ribcage and i reach to scratch and find another big ass bug. I toss it away and it's all just too much for me to take.

I rip my clothes off and just start running, completely naked.

I run through norcal suburbia

run through the farmlands

to the deserts of Southern California

through the suburbia of the hi-desert

and all the while my body mass is just melting, melting away.

Skin dips off like beads of sweat and i become leaner, stronger, thick skinned.

As soon as i note my new found lean-ness, i pass what seem to be Jr. High School aged Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie
They are wearing glittery white lingerie with go go boots.

Nicole yells "What are you doing!?"

And

Paris looks directly at me when she answers in a SUPER cheery voice: "She [she nods towards Nicole] told me to expose myself!"

And she proceeds to take her top off in front of neighborhood boys.

"Idiots" i think as i keep running.

I run by a prison and the inmates are hooting and hollering, and though this whole time i can see myself naked, this is the first time my dream "me" actually acknowledges her nudity.

She makes as if it doesn't bother her, but it does. She runs away from the cat calls and off into the distance.


I don't remember waking up right away, so there either must have been more to the dream or I had another one that I can't remember. Either way, that's the end of this one.

I'm more confused about earlier, it always freaks me out when reality and dream reality are so closely knit--when they overlap a little. Must look into that.

I went to bed rather early today, accidentally. I needed to meditate very badly--mostly because I had just come to the realization that I'm turning into my mother, something I've avoided and fought against my whole life. Not that we're terribly similar.

If that were so, this wouldn't have been such a disturbing surprise.

The following lucid can be described as a monologue. I actually have these kinds of conversations in my head all the time. Now, because you all wouldn't be able to understand it very well if i just wrote out what i said, i'm going to add commentary along the way to give you visuals and such. Which was pretty much what i did in this dream here for myself: I gave my inner monologue "visual" aid and was sort of an omnipotent audience observing what two sides of my thoughts did within the play space of a dream. There were some other topics that were covered, but this is as much of the dialogue that i was able to retain.

Anyway here's what happened:

Hmmm color for WILD...RED!! Haha.

I'm laying on the floor because I'm too lazy/tired/irritated to move the mountain of clothes left over from my pre-date fashionista crisis the night before.

I've got my eyes closed and am enjoying the "relaxation" pose, breathing

IN

out

IN

out

Pushing out the last bits of air, so that every breath is deep.

My mind wanders and I make myself giddy with thoughts of monks and Buddhism and Christopher Hitchens and would I be able to concentrate if I had to say "Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" while meditating?

I begin to picture beige circles, one inside another and on and on, like rings inside red woods,

And these part and make Buddha's belly and head and CHEEKS and these have little pink dots. I've conjoured up a cheery buddha.

But my inner monologue's not buying it and says aloud in a booming voice:

"Are you ever going to stop distracting yourself and just face your reality?"

At this point the pink on Buddah's cheeks turns into a pair of Everest Boxing gloves hanging upside down from some invisible source, and behind them a vast white nothingness. "Am I dreaming? Has it started already?"

I pick up the gloves and i know I'm dreaming. "Huh,Sweet."

"Well, are you going to answer the question or what."

Gah my inner monologue. Am I really going to spend a lucid dream nagging myself? Fuck that shit.

"Dude, worry about it in the morning. You should seriously practice flying right now. OR! "

I get excited as i think it because i know as soon as i turn around there is going to be a big red punching bag right behind me. And there is.

I continue to talk to myself and figure that since it's on my mind and i can deal with it any way i want to here, i'll be able to sort it out much easier than i would in RL where my restricted logic bores me to death.

"Typical."

I pause. "Am I still talking? What the fuck. Calm down Vanessa. If you lose lucidity over frustrating yourself it will be the lamest thing you've ever done in a dream."

"I just don't see why you have to resort to violence--especially when you know you're just ignoring the real problem."

I freeze. This time the voice is outside of my head. It's no longer my inner monologue. "Oh Shit." I think and i turn around knowing what I'm about to see.

The worry wart, un FUN (in my opinion) "logical" version of me is standing right behind me, complete in conservative attire, glasses and a hair bun.

"I'm not a DC."

"How the fuck do i know that, maybe that's exactly what a DC WOULD say."

"You know I'm not"

"Well I didn't will you here."

"You didn't have to. You've been ignoring me all day. Cut the bullshit."

"Whatever. If you're me..." (Here i become quiet and try to clear my mind of the thought I just had.)

"Right behind you sister."

There is a fucking Unicorn behind me and i don't need to look to know it's there. I doubt myself for a second and I can hear it breathing behind me.

I turn to face it and give it a blue stripe on it's horn.

I face me.

"I don't think i know what is--"

"Don't worry I don't want to finish that sentence anyway. It'd creep me out."

"I know."

"We should have learned better reality checks."

"I've been meaning to get to that."

"Pssht. Some dedication."

"Shut up. Dude we need to stop being so judgemental of me. We're--"

"our own worst critic I know. But jesus, some of the shit we do, dude, i don't know."

WHY CAN'T YOU FORGIVE ME!? I closed my eyes to scream that out and when i opened them other me was gone just like i wanted her to be. I'm still wearing the boxing gloves, and I don't want to face certain things right now.

"I am such a crap excuse for a human being sometimes. I know. And i know that I contradict myself soooo fucking much. I know i'm afraid okay I know it, I push myself all the time to go beyond my boundaries.
I know my biggest enemy is my fear."

"Quit talking about us that way. It doesn't become you. And it's not just that dude---". I reappear behind me

"--You've got anger issues, and they're probably worse than those of people who blow up and destroy shit because YOU hardly acknowledge yours. And you just skip right to doing what you think is 'noble' without ever being like 'you know what i'm mad right now, fuck off, gimme a breather."

"It's not his fault Vanessa."

"It always sounds weird to hear my name. Maybe that's a sign that you haven't owned up to who you are."

"Now who's avoiding--"

"just a slight digression. something to consider. But you have to know that it's not your fault for being attached dude. You were in love. Shit happens."

"But it happened to me."

"Well FINALLY. you need to grieve, just like everyone else. You spend so much time 'being a good' friend daughter sister whatever and you listen to others bitch. maybe you should take your own bitching seriously, at least for a little bit."

"I don't know what else to do. I've written so much to just get rid of it. I'm tired of it being a weakness."

"Weakness? You took psych 1, you know better than that. And it's not getting rid of it if you're the only one who sees those words, it's not communication if they go unnoticed."

"And i feel that way sometimes"

"Completely unnoticed. ...We're not Mom dude. We do shit she'd never have the courage to do, and you know that in here you can say that and NOT feel guilty. You're too fucking modest. Be the bitch people think you are once in a while. It's good for your self-esteem."

"Which we really need to work on."

"How do they bring out the wimp in me?" (I'm talking about my family here.)

"You love them, and you put that before your own self respect."

"I should really--"

"Cut that out"

"yeah."

"The confidence you had yesterday with (Insert date's name here) is the way you should feel about you most of the time. you're no one's slave."

"And i don't have to be governed by my own insecurities."

"Remember what Paul said?"

(In unison) "I am the king of Me."

I closed my eyes and smiled and woke up in my bed (well the makeshift one, anyway). =)

Wow, I see you're already a pro at WILDing.

That's an impressive dream and dialog with your inner self. I've been wanting to have a similar talk with my subconscious for sometime now. It's one of my top goals for my next lucid dream.

Anyway, I'm not trying to lecture... just give my point of view. I hardly know you and what you've been through, but if anything, I would agree with this part of the dialog:

Originally Posted by Comoquiendice

"Well FINALLY. you need to grieve, just like everyone else. You spend so much time 'being a good' friend daughter sister whatever and you listen to others bitch. maybe you should take your own bitching seriously, at least for a little bit."

I think that could be applied to anyone. Sometimes we care too much about others and forget about ourselves. I think the dream imagery of boxing gloves and a punching bag might also have a bit of relation to that. You're not - and you can't be - someone else's punching bag.

I think it's great that you had such a meaningful conversation with your subconscious. I'm looking forward to the time I sit down with myself on a lucid dream and learn more about myself.

Other than that, I loved Paul's quote:

Originally Posted by Paul

"I am the king of Me."

I had two more dreams after the latter one a DILD, which ended promptly and a non lucid. I didn't have time to reach the computer so i wrote them in my hard copy DJ. Also

This is my first time recalling 3 dreams in one night!!!!

Here they are:

DILD: Well, that sucked.

To understand yesterday's DILD you need some background:

About a month ago I had a very vivid, very frightening lucid nightmare. I was in front of this big old, gold painted, victorian looking vanity mirror+drawer type of piece. It was atop a desolate cliff, and everything else in the scene--even me--was shades of dark blue, black, and gray. There was this darkness that manifested into a body--sort of like a shadow, but much more dense. There was one in the mirror, behaving as my reflection (my actual reflection was nowhere in sight) and another right beside me, to my right, gripping my right wrist, hurting me BADLY. It didn't have a reflection either, so I got the sense that they were two seperate manifiestations of the same force. It was a WILD so i knew i was dreaming, but i was too awestruck and much too afraid to concentrate enough to stop the scene. The grip on my wrist felt so real. I was terrified. i tried to close my eyes, but my eyelids became transparent and i became even more horrified at the fact that i couldn't make them disappear, even for an instant. I started screaming to myself: "Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up!" Everything went black and my eyes were open in the darkness of the room, so I wasn't sure if i was actually awake. I suddenly became very aware of the great pain in my right wrist, it was still there. I noted that I had been sleeping with my right hand underneath my pillow. I went into the bathroom and turned on the light. It was almost purple. I had cut off my circulation pretty badly.

The actual DILD that I had last night was based on this dream. After talking to many DV'ers about my fear of the dark and the extent of consequences in lucid dreams I decided that if I ever came across that darkness again, i'd face it.

This was the second dream of the night (after the punching bag, monologue dream) and it went like this:

I'm in a forrest, near a river and everything in the scene, even me is in shades of dark blue, black and gray. I'm walking along the river, expecting to be scared out of my wits by the slightest thing, because I can't believe how dark it is, though, to be fair, the moonlight is illuminating most of the scene--but it doesn't help much. I'm already creeped out. I make my way into the trees because it seems brighter behind them, and i find myself elevated. I can see other hills and a far off mountain range. there are no sounds, which is strange for a forrest. all i can hear is the running water and the occasional gusts of wind. There is something standing in the middle of the landscape towards a cliff and i go towards it, hoping it might be someone who can break the silence and tell me where i am. But as i get closer, i see that the object isn't alive at all, it looks like a piece of furniture. I walk up to it and see that it's a big vanity drawer set, painted gold with carved textures along the frame of the mirror. It looks old. And it seems strange. I put my hand to the glass.

Holy shit...I'm dreaming.

As soon as i say it the darkness appears first as an entity on the edge of the cliff and then, when i turn to run--another entity right behind me. I'm stuck. I'm scared. I can't concentrate. But i remember what i have to do and for some reason a quote i read somewhere pops into my head

"Behind every fear awaits a freedom." This time i can close my eyes but it makes things feel unstable and i feel like i'm not in control enough to change things. I begin to spin, because a friend says it helps, but soon enough I can't control the spin. Everything becomes fuzzy, blurs together.
I lose my balance and start to fall and then do---

right into my bed, so to speak, with a jolt and i feel like i've just fallen 10 feet.

I take a second to catch my breath, realize i'm no longer dreaming--then I laugh at the irony of "falling awake."


Non lucid

I'm some sort of a cabaret singer, a'la Thalia Sodi' in attire and demeanor. I'm smoking a cigar and taking sips of rum off stage, fraternizing with the customers. An older gentleman comes up to me and hands me a large sum of money in pesos.

I lead him to the back room of the parlor. "Your usual?" I ask.

"Si porfavor." (Means "Yes, please." in Spanish.)

"Lorena!" I holler, and almost instantaneously, a girl emerges from behind the curtains. She looks fairly young, about 17.

She curtsies and motions to a room.
"Encantada, por aca, si es tan amable."
(meaning: "I'm enchanted. This way, if you could be so kind." )

As soon as he disappears behind the door, we can hear his pants come undone.

We're both disgusted. "All in a days work." she says,lighting a cigarette and suddenly she seems older, like an old soul. "This is going to take all night. But at least this one's gentle."

"There's the silver lining."

"I'm getting an advance tomorrow right?"

"All yours," I say. I get the sense that there is a good bond between us. I begin to fix her hair and say "Si el idiota de Felipe aparece, ni pienses dos segundos antes de llamarme. (If that idiot Philip shows up, don't think two seconds before getting me.) I expose the underside of my skirt to show a small hand gun.

"Nadie nos trata asi. (Nobody treats us [us meaning prostitutes in general] like that.)" I say.

"Ahora si puedo trabajar con calma. (Now I can relax and work in peace)" she says and puts her cigarette out. She gives me a playful look before she slips into the room.


That's it.

I can't believe I was a Spanish pimp--erm "madam."

This was SO vivid. The entire scene was so vibrant, but i'm too sleepy to describe it properly at the moment.

Non-Lucid.
This one makes no sense whatsoever.

I've got this huge pile of keys in front of me

Bronze, Gold, Silver

some are wide and and some are fragile and some look terribly old and more still, are beginning to rust.

some are bunched together with other keys

Some are attatched to joke key chains with sharp witticisms inside a plastic holder

And I'm going through this mass of metal and It hits me that it's not that i've lost a pair in particular, but that i can't figure out which ones are mine

meant, to be mine.

And i sort them by color and size

i recall what friends have and compare what i admired to what i disliked and when I'm finally too exasperated to care, a pair (of keys) appears in my hand.

And then everything is right. It all just feels
appropriate.

They open the door of this cherry red convertible and soon
I'm flying on the California highway.

I've got such a sense of freedom that ambition begins to impede and ask for more.

I wish I had a smoothie I say, and then one appears in a cup holder that wasn't previously there.

This seems to be the first ODD thing i find with my situation because it makes my head hurt to the point where I stop the car and question my sanity. I feel lightheaded and get out of the car and lean over a fence to see the patterned waters of the ocean--they're VIOLET. And the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.

"Get back in here you."

I turn to see Zach Braff, dressed like an Acapulco beach bum sitting in the passenger seat.

"Why do I always fall for the nerdy, gangly, smart ass types?" I ask him.

"You like it when a guy can reason his skinny ass into making you reconsider the way you see things."

"Probably." I say but he's making my head hurt. I pull off my sunglasses and scarf and dive into the violet waters.

I turn back and look up to see him watching me stay afloat.

"Are you coming or what?" I yell up

He doesn't move so I yell back "Life isn't for the faint of heart! "

And dive under to the darkness, smiling as I make my way toward a destination I cannot see.

Camera vision. A red curtain and a wooden floor that leads up to a stool with a torn black cushion. I can see the cotton filling oozing out the side. An ample bottom (or at least from that angle) sits atop the stool in a flowing green skirt.

And then, music.

A guitar strums and keeps strumming, building up to a consistent rhythm.

and then, a voice sings:

"Hot breath. Rough skin. Warm laughs and smilin'..."

My vision scans the dirty, chipped black tile floor.
The room is somewhat smokey and there are candles on every table--but the audience remains in the dark.

"The loveliest words, whispered and meant, you like all these things..."

I'm standing in the back of the room, right before an exit door and all i see is a wave of back-of-heads bobbing to the rhythm.

"But though you like all these things---"

On stage is a woman, in her late twenties with deep green attire, a blouse that seems to be made of silk and a 1920's flapper bob colored the blackest black i'd ever seen.

"You love a stone. Oh you love a stone--"

Her lips are red and prudent and put the velvet curtain behind her to shame

"Because it's smooth. And it's cold.--"

I can't tell if her eyes are cast downward or if the shadow of her bangs are keeping them from me.

"And you'd love most, to be told that it's all your own."

She's captivating, but I'm more curious about the fact that no one can seem to look away from her--the guitar goes on and the audience hums along.--Except for one man.

"You love white veins, you love hard gray. The heaviest weight. The clumsiest shape.
The earthiest smell
The hollowest tone--"

Here she looks up and I miss her face, but the gentleman I'm staring at notices her and I can feel his skin tense. He holds his head low--looks away.

"You love a stone."

i stop in my tracks because the audience suddenly makes me uneasy. The singer must have noticed too, because her momentum builds and her emotion is palpable.

"And i'm found too fast!
Called too fond of flames!
And i'm phoning my friends,
And I'm shouldering the blame
While you're picking pebbles out of a drain
miles ago..."

The softness in her voice floats to the back of the room and I can see the waves of sound slither through the walls.

The gentleman has wavy blonde hair and a sleekness about his style. I'm standing right next to him and he's completely nonchalant. But the song continues:

"You're out singing songs
I'm down shouting names--"

She stands and I can't see anything but the tears on her cheeks.
The gentleman puts on a pair of dark sunglasses.

"--at the flickerless screen,
going fucking insane!"

And in the darkness I realize this song's meant for him.
So I hold his hand, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Am I losing my cool? Overstating my case?
Well, baby, what can I say?..."

I suddenly become very angry with the singer.

"You know i never claimed..."

And I charge the stage, make my way through the crowded tables.

"That i was a stone...And you love a stone.."

And I finally get to the foot of the stage, and there she is.
Singing and
strumming and
standing three feet above me.

"Hey!" I yell.

"Because it's dark...and it's old."

but she's not paying attention to me, which angers me more.

"and you'd like most
to be told
that it's all your own."

I rush up the side steps of the stage. And stop dead.

"You love white veins! You love hard gray!" she continues.

But i've recognized the sticker on her guitar.

"Ellanore?" [Ellanore is the name of MY guitar.]
The vocalist raises her head and i see her eyes.
My eyes.

"The heaviest weight!
The clumsiest shape!"

And the angle shifts. POV and those are MY hands strumming, MY black bob bangs in my face, my red lipstick, my green skirt.

"the earthiest smell,"

My heartache leaning against the back wall of the room.

"the hollowest tone," I place the guitar on the stool, but the music keeps going, though now it's playing inside my head, inaccessible to the audience.

you love a stone...

and as i walk through, the house lights reveal
that the chairs are full of giant marionettes
holding cigarettes and whiskey
posing in their chairs.

you love a stone...

So I sip their whiskey
and steal a cigarette
light it with their candles
and place it between my lips

you love a stone...

that stain it's rolled paper
And I walk directly to the gentleman in the back

Because it's dark...and it's cold...

And breathe out one last cloud of smoke

And if it could start,

Before I put the cigarette out
on his cheek.

being alive,

The wood of his head sizzles under the ash. leaving a small circle on his cheekbone.

You'd start living alone.

I kiss the gentleman marionette lightly on his wooden lips
and exit.

Wow, your dreams are always so deep, and you're great at capturing the feel of the dream in the words...

How did you do to remember those lyrics? Do you have any personal technique for remembering what was said once you wake up? I have such a hard time remembering what people tell me in my dreams. I usually remember the gist of what was told, but rarely do I remember the exact words.

Great lyrics though.

Originally Posted by Comoquiendice

And breathe out one last cloud of smoke

And if it could start,

Before I put the cigarette out
on his cheek.

being alive,

The wood of his head sizzles under the ash. leaving a small circle on his cheekbone.

Ouch! Marionettes have feelings too...

Originally Posted by tyrantt23

How did you do to remember those lyrics? Do you have any personal technique for remembering what was said once you wake up? I have such a hard time remembering what people tell me in my dreams. I usually remember the gist of what was told, but rarely do I remember the exact words.

Well first of all thanks. I'm really passionate about storytelling so i try to really get across what I saw and felt to those i'm telling the story to.

As for the lyrics, I recognized the song. See, it was playing all the time in the dream, and i knew the woman was singing it (i could see her and recognized the lyrics as Okkervil River). In the dream the lyrics and music created the mood, so i integrated them into the story so that you'd feel it present as much as i did.

If i hadn't known the song, it would have been harder to do that, but i recognized the song immediately and though i can't remember what was sung every second, some parts, like when she starts to raise her voice and sing louder or is crying just get seared into my memory and become those major, emotionally driven parts of the dream that keep it vivid in your mind--the parts that you don't forget as easily. Only if the words are very heavily emotionaly influenced, or completely pivotal to the story can i remember them exactly, word for word. otherwise, i usually can only capture, like you said, the gist of it.

I find that i'm much more apt to remember the feelings or intentions behind the words much better than i remember the words themselves.

I don't have a specific technique. i just write down as much as i can remember and then go back and reconstruct it moment by moment in my offline dj, going by scene to scene and chronological storyline.Sometimes it helps if you do this backwards though,because then you have to ask "well, why did he/she say that?" and you can usually gather more from there. Also, i've found that i'm much more likely to remember word for word dreams in which i'm lucid. My very vivid dreams, like this one, are also much easier to remember, because they don't feel like dreams but past moments of my life. However i've only really started to focus on paying attention to the dialogue in the last 6 months or so.

If i find a good technique though, you'll be the first one to know it

I HAD A VIDEO GAME LUCID!!!!!

(!!!)

Cue the dancing edibles!




If no one knows what I'm talking about, the game I dreamt about is called Portal and it's from the Half Life 2 Orange Box.

Tyrant, I just noticed, has a banner with one of the game's cubes just above, before my response back to him.

Anyway it's my favorite game at the moment and i'm sooooo psyched that i finally dreamt about it, as i've secretly hoped EVERYNIGHT that i would.

I just had the dream about a half an hour ago,it's still pretty fresh, but i want to get back to bed SOON to see what else my mind can conjour up.

So i leave you guys with the description i gave Paul, who AIM'ed me just now and who incidentaly is in the dream himself.

YAY!!!

Here it is:

?

Well okay I guess I'll go.

We're in a challenge of Portal, which is at the moment my favorite video game.

Anyway i'm trying to get the portals to open up and i"ve got the portal gun in my arms but you're scrambling about the platform complaining that you don't want to be here anymore.

and so i tell you that i'm working on getting us out of here but that you have to be patient.

but you just complain that it's stuffy in there and i tell you to sit down or at least stop pacing because the platform we're on is about to move and the floor below us is a pool of acid.

i shoot a portal and put my hand through to grab the cube and you're like

"whoa!" and i'm like, yeah cool huh?

and you're like "how did you?"

and then you get up to come look but you lose your balance and fall into the acid and die.

and i'm like "GODDAMIT PAUL!!! now i have to start all over."
and the scene fades and i'm back at the beginning of the course.

and you're there and you're like "what happened?" and i'm like
YOU DIED

and you're like Oh.

haha

And so we start walking again and i've got the portal gun in my arms
and you're like
I'm hungry.

And i'm just really mad at you.

"goddamit PAUL!" And then i look around and I realize i'm dreaming. And suddenly i know EXACTLY what i have to do to get us out of here.

don't worry there's chocolate cake at the end of this i say

and you're like NO THERE ISN'T!

AND I'M LIKE YES THERE IS!!!!

and you say you don't believe me, but i ask you to trust me and we keep walking on

we come to a place where the steps expand and contract and i shout
STAY CLOSE TO ME!!! and you do.

we run up the steps before they collapse under us and then there is a platform over head that moves towards us.

I say "okay whatever happens just ALWAYS stay directly behind me."

and you look a little concerned but you say "Fine"

i shoot a portal onto the high platform and another one into the ground directly below us.

Grab a hold of me paul! i shout and we fall in through the portals and i wake up with a jolt on my bed, feeling like i've just fallen several feet.

it was AWESOME!!!!

i love you Xbox 360, never leave me.<3

But was too tired to write it down or stay awake for too long.

I woke up again this morning, knowing I'd dreamt, because i could remember the computer labs in my dream--but what happened or who was there is a blur.

I do know that there was a group of people with me, predominantly male and I think one of them was a sort of commanding officer or something with authority, to me.

I'll see if anything else comes to me.

It was Cal for sure.

I'd know that setting anywhere; it was the redwoods that gave it away.
This night was one of those blue black nights. where everything is so covered in moonlight, that the darkness is transparent and holds jurisdiction just above the skyline.

I'm with a girl. We're holding hands.
It's after a coffee date.
Our hands copulate, and i can see the red of her hair--she's dressed in black
black blouse
black jeans
black jacket
black boots

Assorted pieces of nature stick to her hair and dangle there.
i pay no mind and neither does she. I start to think about how completely useless it is that she's wearing pants, because a quickie is so much easier in a skirt

And when i look past her torso, i see a newly materialized pleated skirt and think "ah, that's better."

I get back to kissing. To the distinct feeling that we both really want to be there. My body undergoes transformations. My mind back tracks through my chronological Rolodex of intimate encounters.

My hands run the length of her legs and I become
my first boyfriend
my nervous straight girl
my bi curious gay-mate.

And while my mouth is busy I become intrigued
with the corollating changes in my surroundings.

It's black and white
and then technicolor

And her skin changes on cue
pink nipples
light grey
dark hair
darker.

and my mind is split, between thinking logically about what's happening
and letting my animalistic instinct take over.

"I don't give a shit if the sky is falling" i start to say---
and all around us stars crash through the atmosphere and fizzle, sinking, into the ground, surrounding us.

But she's moaning
and i'm moaning
and my hands are everywhere they need to be

I reach forward to kiss her mouth and my body sinks into the dirt.
She's gone. And before I wonder how the earth sucked her in--i realize she was never there to begin with.

You fucking piece of crap. I forgot why I stopped using you

gahhhhhh!!!!!!

i just spent 10 minutes writing out my zombie dream and this thing didn't post it.

it did that thing where it made me sign in again and i lost everything.


STUPID DJ!!

ghgaijkdfmalcr of.;,fao;ewx!!!

screw this.

All of my dreams lately have been about sex.
Usually heterosexual sex.

I don't know why.

It's interesting...but I want to get back to real, thought provoking dreams.

The last one i had was great, only because it was a total shift of senses.

I knew i was lying by a window, and someone had me tied up, arms straight over my head-----to the headboard of this Queen size bed.

I see a figure coming towards me and I can see it's a man, not too much older than myself.

He pulls a rope and the curtain closes over the window whose outside light is aiding my view of the scene.

Everything goes black and for the rest of the dream all i can gather are smells and tastes and touches. Can't see a goddamn thing.

Very strange.

Good to see you still hanging around, Como.

About the automatic log-off; it should still keep your post until you log back in. I don't think it's supposed to erase the whole thing. Every time that happens to me, the post comes up as soon as I log back in.

Haha, thanks for the tip Oneironaut.

On to the dreams of the afternoon--I've been napping, since midterms are detrimental to my sleeping habits.

Anyway, another sex dream. I don't get it!

I don't feel sex obsessed.

I actually got bored of the situation (in the dream) and stopped paying attention, as if i were watching it on TV or something.

I was in this cocktail dress, but I didn't look like me, I looked like Maribel Vardou for some reason----

Anyway I had a 1920's flapper bob and really red lipstick and was making out with Rivers Cuomo, a long time favorite in my personal spank bank.

but then the POV goes out of whack and I'm staring at the ceiling while he does his thing because i'm so incredibly BORED.

I start thinking things like "God, was he always this boring in bed?" and "Jesus christ, just DO it already." and then "Every week the same routine..."

And then suddenly I'm in an apron and in a 1950's housewife version of Dorothy's Oz dress,

Minus the tacky shoes--

The entire scene begins to vibrate and I realize i'm sitting atop a dryer and theres a strange sort of bobbing motion happening under my dress.

I close my eyes and things feel familiar--I open them and moan and i can see some guy's head sort of emerging from under the skirt of my dress.

His hair is in perfect Buddy Holly fashion and he's wearing these classic Wayfarers that, incredibly, are spotless and not at all sporting evidence of ...well, You know. Muh pimp juice, ; )

Anyway he smiles and dives back in, under my skirt.

When I look up at the ceiling this time, colors appear, as intense as my moans, and with the same rhythm. I feel like i can't take it anymore and want to scream---

But i wake up with a jolt on the grass, outside of the library where i'd fallen asleep. I look around at the people reading, sleeping, sun bathing---and feel very dirty, and start to wonder if i talked in my sleep.

My bottom half is buzzing with activity.

HAHA have just joined & wanted the username 'wingblessed' ... but as you can see I accidentally missed out the letter 'N' so now I'm wigblessed! lmao never mind, was meant to be I guess
Posting to say hello HELLO

I have asked for it to be changed .. Are you all in bed asleep ?

That's right.

"Like oh em gee, girls get wet dreams too?!"

The answer to that is: yep. some of us do.

Not nearly as often as men though.

This lucid is only my second wet dream. Female ejacs vary by intensity depending on how turned on we are, so this might just be the second one i remember.

************************************************** ****

i don't want to go into too much detail because, while i can remember all the details perfectly---it'd be waaaaay too obvious who i'm talking about.

It's going to have to suffice to say that we were in the middle of some great sex when i realized that i was lucid. But unlike other dreams I've had, i could not come to terms that I was having sex with a DC in this one---it just seemed too real, things felt real, tasted real---i refused to let the DC truth stop me. So i decided that it wasn't a DC, told myself that it was the real deal

and then went on to have some great oral sex.

woke up coming and squirting.

it was sooo good. I completely scared my roommate.

I keep having this dream. Even when I'm day dreaming, because it's just so damn hot.

************************************************** ****

I'm dressed in black pleather, a'la Michelle Pheiffer, except the top has a part for my hair to come cascading down, sort of like the old school Poison Ivy costume, only my hair is really big and soft and flowy----

anyway I have this guy on a bed, tied up
the ends of my gloves have these primped finger nails at the end, and i scratch him lightly,

lick him here

kiss him there

I tighten the rope on his cuffs.

he tries to do forward to grab me but i push him against the headboard of the bed with one hand and grab his jaw before giving him a light kiss,
before i pull on the rope a little harder.

I reapply this awesome red lipstick and giggle an evil giggle before blindfolding him.

after that the pov shifts and it goes black, just as i blindfold him

I don't become him, but i can tell what he's feeling as I do my below the belt business.

this goes on for a while, me switching positions, playing with this, nibbling that, scratching and sucking and touching touching touching

then i slow down, before coming to a stop and pulling the blind fold off of him.

He is covered in perfect red lipstick kiss marks, all over and he has this huge smile on his face.

I smile too and pull the catwoman mask off before settling to purrrr next to him.


I have way too many sex dreams. hahaha.

Mwahahahahaha! I'm sorry I just really love this whole journal. Espically the opening!
I laughed so hard...