Thread: Tales From the Butler's Pantry

Thanks, apachama. It was a weird one, because I saw the whole dream as a vision after dreaming I had a seizure in another dream. Like a dream within a dream.

Originally Posted by Robot_Butler

Thanks, apachama. It was a weird one, because I saw the whole dream as a vision after dreaming I had a seizure in another dream. Like a dream within a dream.

Wow. I'd love to see the whole context. Its like you dreamed you had a vision. Symbolically odd.

It's amazing how close your last written dream was to part of a story, RB!

I had this lucid last night that has been giving me the blues all day. Nostalgic about my childhood and all

I'm excited to be remodeling a house in my old neighborhood. My father is driving me around the neighborhood to survey the houses. All the new construction in the area reminds me of when we first moved to town, when I was only six. I remember back to my first year in the new house. A six year old, exploring a new environment with that sense of wonder that only children can experience. Running through the half built houses collecting pieces of construction waste like treasures.

I am snapped out of my nostalgia by a kid running right in front of the car. I scream at my father who is obviously not paying attention. Our car buzzes by the child at full speed, missing him by less than an inch. I yell at my father, but he doesn't seem to have even noticed the child.

Arriving at the site of my new project, I realize it is the exact same house I lived in as a kid. The new family is already moving in, and I excitedly jump out to help them. I survey the house as well as I can, with people coming and going. I help move some furniture, and become friendly with the new family. I pay special attention to the two young boys who are moving in. I try to remember myself and my brother at their age, and what it was like to move into a new house. I end up babysitting these two boys while everyone else moves furniture.

We play with some bright green clay that makes a mess all over my hands. They show me to their new bathroom upstairs so I can wash my hands. It has been remodeled since I lived there. I try to wash my hands in the colorful red and blue plastic sink. Water pours out of the ceiling, and mists up from the sink basin. I realize this is a new children's shower that sprays the whole room to make it easy and fun for kids to shower. Embarrassed, I find the real sink just outside the bathroom. I scrub my hands and pump some soap out of the dispenser, but it just makes a bigger mess. The kids laugh at me. I realize the dispenser is an accessory for the clay we were playing with. It is filled with more green clay, and I've smeared it everywhere. I find the real bar of soap, and easily clean the mess up. I laugh with the kids, telling them, "This is the real reason kids love me. I do silly stuff like this. My life is like a full time clown act."

I return to the adults downstairs, and find them all busy except for one man. I know him as the owner of the house. He is sitting, cross legged in meditation on the couch. He is surrounded by balloons and streamers, like a birthday party. The breeze from the open door blows the decorations around lazily. As I approach him, I notice his skin is a deep purple color, and he is covered in glowing tattoos. From this side of the couch, I can clearly see he is not sitting, but levitating a few inches off the cushions. While remaining standing, I lift my legs off the ground, and fold them beneath me so I am floating also. He opens his eyes, and I ask him, "Are you working on your lotus position? I learned the same way you did. Watch the rhythm of the streamers swaying in the breeze. Match your breathing to the rhythm." I begin floating calmly around the high ceiling room, still holding the lotus position. I aim myself towards the balloons, and bounce off each one in series. I have a hard time keeping myself upright, and by the end of the exercise, I am tilted sideways at a difficult angle.

I feel guilty for having so much fun while others are working, so I land to go to check my list of things to do. Did I finish everything? My list is written in crayon on a ratted orange piece of kid's construction paper. I can't read a word, but I assume I've finished it all.

My best friend walks into the room right as I land, and I try to explain to her how easy it is to levitate. She doesn't believe me. I am so happy to see her. This whole experience has made me so sad and nostalgic. I curl up on the ground, holding her in my arms. Everyone else trails into the room, exhausted from the day's work. We watch a movie about a man and his pet grizzly bear called, "Smokey Bear and the Bandit." It is a terrible family movie, but I don't say anything because the children are present. My girlfriend comes to join us, and I suddenly feel guilty for cuddling with this other woman. I get up to explain, and hear a timer beep loudly.

It is the perfect reason to excuse myself, so I turn to the tattooed man and say, "I'll take care of it." He replies, "Those are my sweet potatoes. Could you just press Shift-1 on the microwave for me?" In the kitchen, I open the microwave to see a sticky mess of purple yams, with one giant one in the center that is richly decorated with jewelery. I try to find the 'Shift-1' button, but can't read the words on the microwave. The buttons look like holograms. I can barely see a shimmer if I angle my head to a certain position.

Frustrated, I return to the movie room, and say, "Ok, I feel like an idiot, but I can't figure out the microwave. The numbers keep shifting like holograms, or like... a dream...?" I continue out loud, to the whole room full of people, "Oh fucking hell. This is all a dream, isn't it? That's why I couldn't read my list. That explains the levitating." I look at the TV, and say out loud, again, "So this stupid freaking movie is all my fault? Smokey Bear and the Bandit? That's the worst joke I've ever heard."

I kneel down to my seven year old brother (he's seven in real life), and explain to him what it means to be lucid. He loves the concept, so I walk him over to the wall behind the stairs. I tell him to draw a door on the wall with his crayon. He outlines one, including squiggly hinges, and a crooked door knob. I tell him to imagine anyplace he wants to go. Anything he can imagine. I reach out to grasp the doorknob, but it is too slippery. He giggles and tries also. His finger punches right through the drywall, and he swivels the whole section of dusty drywall forward on it's crayon hinges.

Inside, is a small cubbyhole filled with lost toys. Transformers, action figures, old McDonalds Happy Meal toys. I pull them out and start playing with them, but my brother can't see them. I say to him, "Maybe you can't see them, because this is my dream. You can only see things that you dream about."

I get an idea, and walk him into the bathroom. We look at ourselves in the mirror, and I show him how strange things can happen in dream mirrors. I tell him, "We need a code word that we can remember when we wake up. Something to prove that we had this dream together." I try to think of one, and he yells out, "Abra Kablabara." I repeat it, trying to remember it. He seems distracted and bored. He runs outside, and I follow.

Outside in the driveway, everyone is climbing in a giant gold Cadillac Escalade. I try to remind my brother to remember the phrase for when he wakes up. I'm frustrated that he won't pay attention to me. He is playing with his dog, and suddenly turns into a dog himself. The two dogs sniff each other. I'm so frustrated with my dream world, I rip a hubcap off the Cadillac and start smashing it against the side of the car. I yell at people inside to get out of the car. I want them to stay here. I don't want them to leave.

I get a hold of myself, ashamed that I let the dream take over like this. I am very emotional, and I know I can't stay lucid much longer. I need to wake up and write it all down before I lose myself. I stand still, and press my eyes closed hard. I open them, and there is a black Honda Civic parked on the grass. Confused, I try again. This time, I really force them back open, and find myself lying in bed.

I don't recognize the dark room for a minute. It is almost pitch black, but something is strange. I am smashed against the edge of the bed, about to fall off. There is a tall post standing next to the bed that may be part of the bed frame. Disoriented, I try to remember the dream. I remember that I was in this house helping out. I must have spent the night while babysitting and helping move in. I know there are three or four people in bed with me, including my girlfriend's younger brother and my best friend. I'm worried about sleeping in such akward arrangements, apparently naked. I'm more worried about how I will write down this long dream. I know I don't have my dream journal here. I hold the dream in my mind, to lock it in my memory. I then prepare myself to go stumble through this strange house. I don't want to wake up the other people in bed. I am horrified about having to walk through this unknown house in the black night, trying to find a pen and paper.

I try to swing my leg out of bed, but it does not respond. It feels like I'm paralyzed. Or maybe it feels like sleep paralysis? I have this thought, and wake up into my real bed.

I guess I was more angry that I thought about that "Smokey Bear and the Bandit" movie from the other night...

I had to have the plans delivered to the client by 5:00. The courier for the blueprinter was on his way, but I couldn't get the staples out. Using pliers, I was trying to rip them out one by one. The courier arrived. It can't be time already! I looked at the clock, but it didn't make sense to me. I asked the courier, and he replied "4:38". I was out of time!

I tried to sign for the delivery, but I couldn't find our office's name on the list. I was having a hard time reading. Frustrated, I awkwardly scribbled my name in on the bottom line. I decided I would make the blueprints myself, on the way to the job site. I grabbed he blue line machine, and started running down the street. I fed the first sheet in as I crossed a busy intersection. I seemed to be on roller skates. The print came out blank, and I remembered I disposed of all the ammonia last month. Wait, I thought I trashed my blue line machine also...

I skated back to my office, and found the courier still there. He was loitering around, hitting on our intern. Before I had a chance to send him off, his friends showed up. First, a Hispanic woman with a basket of strawberries. Then, the German woman who works there phones followed. She had bags full of food. Dozens of people from the blueprinter's shop started pouring in, each carrying plates and bags of food. It looked like they were going to have a picnic. They filled the conference room and started discussing leaving to form their own company. It was a mutiny!

I walked into the conference room and switched the lights off. I stood beside the long table, and pulled a small black vial out of my pocket. I threw it into the air, with the intention of having it float above the table and then explode into some sort of black hole or dark energy. I couldn't concentrate with everybody jibber-jabbing. The vial started bouncing around the room at crazy speeds. I couldn't stop it.

Two of the guys wouldn't stop talking, and I got more and more angry. One of them suddenly leaped at me violently. He pulled a hammer out of his pocket to attack me. I jumped up on the table, and reached into his mouth to grab his tongue. I stretched his tongue out of his mouth with one hand, and then slammed my other fist into his jaw. His teeth slammed together, lopping his tongue off in a spray of blood. I caught his hammer as he swung it towards me. I ripped it out of his hand and threw it across the room at his friend. The hammer flipped through the air end-over-end, and buried itself claw first in his buddy's left eye socket.

The whole crowd came at me with pliers, hammers, and other tools. I jumped under the table to hide. I crawled towards the other end of the table to confront their leader, a muscular woman who looked like a body builder. I was being pummeled and stabbed with fists and sharp tools. I felt my hair start to grow into a thick protective coat of fur. My skin toughened, and I exploded in size. The conference table flew off my back, splintering as I reared up to my full height as an eight foot tall rampaging grizzly bear!

I swatted away my attackers as I made my way towards the door. The room was too small for me to maneuver in. I knew I would never fit through the doorway. I shifted myself sideways against reality, and watched as my attacker's fists and weapons passed right through my ephemeral bear-body. I charged through the walls on all fours, and out to the parking lot. The mob followed, still throwing books, chairs, and office equipment at me. I leaped into the air, and then watched in third person as I sprouted beautiful white feathered wings, and took off into the air.

Now part of the mob, I stood in the parking lot watching the winged bear awkwardly flap and flop around the sky in retreat. A skinny man with glasses approached me. "The experiments worked!" He said, excitedly. "The genetic modifications must be taking effect. That must mean your gills are on their way."

I felt a strange pain in my neck, and reached up to feel a long gash running from my ear down to my shoulder. It was tender, but not bleeding. I took a deep breath, and felt myself draw air through the flap of skin. I took another breath, and this time, felt myself draw air into my lungs from under my arm. I reached under my left arm pit to finger another long tear in my skin. Each breath felt like it was ripping my skin open more and more. I joked with my nerdy companion, "What a terrible place for a gill. Is everything going to smell like armpit? This is like having your nose in your ass."

My companion didn't answer. Instead he took off running, yelling, "Hurry! To the creek!" I had a brief flash of seeing myself swimming underwater, breathing easily through my new gills, then I woke up.

Originally Posted by apachama

Wow. That dream is amazing. What a couple.

*totally agrees*

But, man, you really were pissed on this last one!

I was researching flashing details for a storefront window set in masonry. It was frustrating, because all I could in my reference books were old black and white photos of underground brickwork. I recognized some of the pictures as being from the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. The brick work was built right into the ceiling of an underground cavern. I couldn't understand why I had never seen these photos before. I asked Aquanina for help, but she was mystified also. We had a long conversation, and ended up talking about the pros and cons of different 3D modeling programs.

We ended up at my coworker's desk, helping him retrofit some inappropriately large classical columns onto the brick building I was working on. As he zoomed into one of the details on the screen, I realized something was wrong. The zoom looked really smooth, and popped out like a 3D movie. I wondered if this was a dream. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I lifted into the air, and flew away. It all happened so fast, I barely had time to think. One second I was immersed in work, the next I was flying out the door. I yelled back to Nina, "Sorry, I have to go. This is just too weird for me."

I could see darkness outside the front door of my office. Night time already? I flew out into the darkness, and realized it was an empty void. I tried to think of something to fill the void. I pictured the image I had just seen on my coworker's computer screen. The brick building with oversized columns. I knew it was a new memorial monument on the Mall in Washington DC. I got a flash of the building in front of me. It was coming at me too fast, and I flew right through it like a mirage.

I knew the dream was slipping, so I looked down at my hands, extended in front of me like superman. They did not look like my hands at all. The skin was aged and leathery from sun exposure. I felt very detached from them, like I could barely move them. They felt heavy and numb, like when you sleep on your arm and wake up with it numb. I struggled to make my left hand reach over and grab my right forearm. As soon as I felt the touch, the dream stabilized and I was back in my office.

Things still felt very shaky, and I could sense my real body back in bed. I walked around the office picking things up and touching everything in sight to try to ground myself. I knew the dream was not stable enough to try flying or traveling, so I decided to stay put and explore my current environment.

I tried to find Nina again, but she had transformed into her sister. I recognized that threatening, creepy look in her eyes. I knew she was an impostor who wanted to somehow trap me in the dream. I had a half empty bottle of rootbeer in my hand that I had found in the office. I was holding onto it to keep the dream stable. Nina's sister was talking non-stop, trying to distract me and make me lose my lucidity. I knew my expectations were the only thing making the situation feel scary. I tried to think of something funny that would change the feel of the dream. I reached over, and dumped the rootbeer down the front of her pants, laughing. It just made her more aggressive and monstrous. I tried to think of pleasant thoughts to keep this from turning into a nightmare, knowing that it was too late. She went from threatening to aggressive, and started to grab me with her creepy witch hands.

I still had the bottle in my hand. I slammed it down on the edge of the table to break it in half and use it as a weapon. Instead of breaking, it bounced like it was made of rubber. I tried again, throwing all my weight into it. When the bottle hit the table, I felt a pain in my jaw, like someone punched me. I experimented again, hitting the bottle on the table. Again, I felt the impact in my jaw. The witch laughed at me, explaining that any harm I did to my dream world was only harming myself. I wondered for a second if I was sleeping strangely back in my bed, somehow putting weird pressure on my face and jaw. As soon as I thought of my body back in bed, I became aware of it and woke up.

Man, RB, you tried really hard in that dream! +100 points for all that effort. It sounds like no matter how much logic you stuck into the dream it kept coming back at you. >.<

Logic like pouring rootbeer down someone's pants . It was a frustrating one.

My best friend had betrayed me. To get back at him, I broke into his house to pull some pranks Amelie style. Walking around his house, seeing all his personal belongings, I started to have second thoughts. I decided I should be the better person, and not seek revenge. The next day, the news came to me that he had foreclosed on his mortgage. The bank was auctioning off his house and all his belongings.

I attended the auction, and bought his favorite antique desk for a fraction of it's value. I hauled it back to my garage, and started sanding off the finish with a power sander. The look on his face was priceless when he saw me destroying his most prized possession. Little did he know, I was actually going to refinish it and give it back to him.

Sanding the beast took some time. It seemed like the more I sanded, the bigger the desk became. More sides kept appearing. More nooks and crannies that I had missed. At one point, I realized I was sanding the rubberized handle of a stapler that was in the desk drawer. I followed one of the long table legs, and realized it turned into an ornate railing for a huge staircase. This was going to take longer than I thought!

I started clearing away an area around the stairs so I would not get sawdust on all my stuff. At the top of the stairs, I found a small box with a huge centipede in it. It was terrible looking. It was at least a foot long, and had a grotesque head shaped like a lobster claw. It was stuck in the box, and was slowly wiggling it's poisonous claw-head around trying to free itself. Not wanting to touch it with my bare hands, I ran into the bedroom to find something I could use to scoop it up. I found a decorated paper bag in a pile of Christmas wrapping paper. When I opened it, I realized there were more centipedes inside. They looked like flattened scorpions, with long centipede necks that ended in sharp claw heads. They were spilling all over the floor, as I scrambled to scoop them up without getting bitten. They kept multiplying, and soon there were baby centipede-scorpions everywhere.

"Screw this!" I yelled out loud, frustrated. I vaulted over the guard rail, and slid down the banister on my feet. Halfway down, I leaped into the air and spread my arms out to either side. My arms sprouted feathers and flattened into eagle wings. I tucked my legs beneath me, folding my knees into my chest, and extending my toes into long bird talons. I glided down towards an open door, and out into the sunlight.

I beat my wings, and lifted into the air to turn over in an exhilarating high loop. Coming down from the loop, I thought for a second to remember what I wanted to do. I remembered the Dream Views task of the month to taste something intangible. I ended my loop a few feet off the ground, hovering near a stone lamp post at the foot of a driveway. I reached out toward the red stone with my human hand, and tried to draw the color off of it. A cloud of dark red dust lifted off the surface, and covered my fingers like dust from a terracotta conte crayon. I brought my fingers to my lips and licked them. They tasted gritty and earthy, like clay. "This is what red must tase like," I thought to myself.

Not satisfied with this result, I looked up to the beautiful blue sky above me. I was amazed at how clear my environment was, and how far I could see in all directions. I floated upward, towards the beautiful clear sky. I had to get above the shadows of the surrounding buildings. As I floated upward, I saw the sun crest the roof of the nearest house. As it appeared, I opened my mouth wide to suck in it's brilliant light. I immediately had the sensation of my mouth filling with something. I could feel pressure on my tongue, like opening your mouth while under water. It tasted leafy, like cooked spinach. I thought to myself, "I must be tasting my own chlorophyll, like a plant."

The light from the sun was blinding me no matter how much I squinted. I instinctively closed my eyes for a second to block out it's bright light. As soon as my eyes shut, I found myself back in bed.

I am working pest control with my stepfather's company. We are releasing a raccoon from a trap, when I notice that it's leg is broken. I tell my stepfather's father (step-grandfather?) that we have to take it home and nurse it back to health. He disagrees, saying he will release it into the wild ten miles from here, and it will heal naturally. The poor animal's bone is clearly jutting out from it's front leg in a bloody mess. My step-grandfather is lying to me, and I know he's going to kill the animal as soon as he has it out of my sight.

When I get the animal safely into the cabin, I realize it is actually a baby sun bear, not a raccoon. I resolutely decide to care for this rare and loveable baby no matter what. When I get it out of the cage, I realize I am mistaken again, it is actually a baby gorilla. It has a massive chest, and long spindly arms and legs. It must be some sort of fragile tiny monkey baby. It's long arms almost look like tentacles. I carry the tiny thing out of the house in the palm of my hand.

An incredibly beautiful topless black woman is sunbathing at the pool. She takes a look at my new pet, and tells me I need to create a home for it. My little brother gives me one of his empty toy boxes to use as a cage and home. Remembering that raccoons carry a deadly brain parasite, I run back inside to wash my hands. The bar of soap is impossible to see because it blends in perfectly with the wall tile. Instead, I use a small travel bottle of shampoo.

When I return, I find my baby looks more alien than ever. It is a beautiful glowing creature made of tentacles. Unlike a sea creature, it looks very touchable and soft. I cradle it in the palm of my hand, and loosely close my fingers around it. It begins to spin, tickling my fingers with it's soft feathery limbs. It spins so fast, it begins to hum, and fills me with an incredible sense of love and inspiration.

I take it inside to show my family. My brother's ex-girlfriend peeks into my hand, and says, "Oh, you have an Ouroboros." I reply, "I never knew you were so good at dream interpretation. You must be some kind of genius."

The Ouroboros is the famous symbol of a snake devouring it's own tail. The serpent, a symbol representing fear, feeds off itself. The fear that the creature inspires in others also sustains it. The creature in my hand is a monster that feeds off of the fear it inspires in others. The reason I feel only love for it, is because it has consumed all my fear, leaving nothing left to make me feel any emotion. It is an infinite loop.

I take the creature outside, and speak to it in my hand, "This is the perfect place to feed you all the fear you could ever want. Let's give you enough to break the cycle, and let you grow to your full potential."

I try to summon up all the fear I have ever experienced. I don't imagine anything specific, only the memory of the raw emotion. Immediately, the ground begins to shake and the dream darkens. In the distance, I see gigantic creatures lumbering out of a mist. Even from the distance, they tower over their surroundings, standing hundreds of feet tall. Their heads disappear into the clouds above, like skyscrapers on a foggy day. There are dozens of them, and they are raining down destruction on everything in their path. They destroy whole cities in a single stroke, and I feel the earth splitting and breaking beneath them. It feels like every disaster I have ever experienced. The ground beneath my feet feels like it could give away at any second. The air is whipping around me, trying to knock me to my knees.

I feel the worst terror I have ever experienced, and want it to stop. The sensations are too real, and I can't distract myself from them enough to change the scene around me. Everywhere I turn, I see more of the monsters, coming closer every time. I turn to my mother standing next to me, and say, "Ok, this is enough fear, now how do I stop it?" I know as soon as I look at her. I start swinging my head from side to side, trying to get the monsters out of my vision while focusing on a peaceful image of a calm white sand beach.

When I finally manage to get the terrible images out of my field of vision, my eyes lock on a picturesque scene of a peaceful coastline with a lighthouse. There is a rocky path down to the water, and a friendly visitor center filled with smiling and laughing people. I walk towards the visitor center still clutching my pet in my hand. It is whirling faster than ever, and I need to use the restroom very badly. Those monsters literally scared the piss out of me!

I enter the restroom, and stand over the toilet. I'm afraid to put down my pet. He is twirling so fast, I fear he will shoot off in any direction if I let him go. There must be something to fear here that he is feeding off of. I look around, and see two girls using the stall at the end of the men's room. One is acting as a lookout, while the other crouches over the toilet. I think this girl must be afraid of being discovered.

Satisfied, I put my pet in my pocket, but he keeps spinning against my jeans. I feel heat from the friction, and fear he will burn a hole right through my pants. I lift one leg up high to stretch the denim against his body. This slows him down, but makes it impossible for me to aim at the toilet. Two men stand on either side of me, uncomfortably close. One of them pees on my shoe on purpose, taunting me. I reach over, pick him up by the face with with one hand, and carry him outside. I throw him against the wall, and punch him hard in the neck. He laughs, and I realize he is a meaningless distraction. I join in his laughter, and reach into my pocket to retrieve my pet. I leave the man standing against the wall, laughing.

I join my friend and her husband at a picnic table. I place my pet on the table, and he opens up his feathery limbs to a brilliant white light. We all laugh at the joyfullness of the light. My friend laughs so hard, her breasts pop out of her top. I playfully pretend to cover my eyes while she tries to cover up.

Wow. Thats a lovely dream, what a creature you had there.

You are brave to wander the realm of fear in your sleep. I would like to see a drawing of your fear monster.

BTW, I really like your dream journal.

Originally Posted by apachama

Wow. Thats a lovely dream, what a creature you had there.

Thanks. I really loved the little guy. He was like a great toy, a terrible monster, and a lovable pet all in one.

I've been slowly making my way through your dream journal over the past week. Some of your dreams really get stuck in my head, especially with all your commentary. Maybe there was some influence?

Originally Posted by soma1234

I would like to see a drawing of your fear monster.

Coincidentally, there is a drawing of it hanging above the bed in my bedroom. Maybe someday...

Thanks buddy, I'm glad to hear that my dreams have been of interest to you. I certainly have been enjoying yours.

I've been a terrible dreamer lately. I know I've forgotten at least two lucid dreams from the last week. I just woke up with that feeling that I had a lucid, but I can't remember what happened.

Plus, I've missed a lot of obvious dream signs and even failed reality checks. For example, last night I was floating on a raft with three naked playboy models and my girlfriend. I looked down at my hand to count my fingers, and noticed my hand was super tiny like a baby's, and gray in color. I noticed it was strange, made a joke about it, and then proceeded to give one of the models a piggy back ride around the pool to find the crocodile.

Another night of strangely semi-lucid dreams. I've had lots of these in the past week or two. Here's a good...bad example.


My girlfriend's father accidentally bought two clear plastic waste baskets, instead of just one. He gave me the spare. I took a hammer to it, smashing it into tiny shards. I had the idea that I could use these crystal-like shards to help me focus, thus making me more lucid.

I got a plastic bag, and returned to try and gather up all the shattered pieces of plastic. They were buried under slides of old family photos piled up on top of the floor. I had to dig through thousands of these slides to find the mess I had made. When I finally found the shattered crystals on the floor, I started eating them like rock candy. They tasted like flavorless sugar crystals. Just sickly sweet. I needed a glass of water to wash them down.

In the kitchen, I saw my girlfriend's step mom was making a pizza. The small pizza was cooking directly on one burner of the stove. It was bouncing up and down from the heat, like the lid to a boiling pot of water. As I watched, it bounced especially high, and flipped upside down, so the melted cheese was all over the burner and gas flame. I could smell it burning. Before I could do anything, she came in, and started scraping the pizza off the stove and onto a wet frying pan. She didn't seem to mind that it was horribly burned, torn, and messy.

"Go get me some plates! She demanded." I reached into the space in front of me, and plucked one from thin air. It was a porcelain plate with a autumn leaf pattern around the border. My girlfriend's step mom slopped some of the burned pizza mess onto it, and then looked at me in disgust, "I want the paper plates, unless you are planning on doing dishes tonight?" I reached into the empty air in front of me, and produced another matching porcelain plate. I replied, "We can throw these away when we are done with them, they don't really exist." She didn't seem to understand, so I explained that I was stealing them from the astral realm to bring into this dream, so they didn't really exist.

She didn't believe me, and thought it was some kind of trick. She challenged me, "Prove it by getting something that can't be faked. I want an antique wooden dog sled." I thought of her request, and heard the doorbell ring. She opened the door, and saw an ornately carved antique wooden rocking horse. It was large enough for a full size adult to ride, like a carousel horse. Instead of a horse straddling the rails, it was a renaissance cherub. A huge creepy baby with short curly hair. The wood was stained and polished, but showed cracks in the grain from age.

She was amazed, and immediately hauled the thing inside. As she was trying to shove it under the table in the living room, the baby came to life, and started grabbing her leg. "Ma-ma," It cooed, as it clutched at her pant leg with cracked wooden fingers. She shook it off, distractedly annoyed, and returned to the dinner table.

She started questioning me in depth about how I created it. I explained that I've never seen a real dog sled, so I must have connected the idea of the sled's skis with the rails for the rocking horse. I told her that first, you need to be able to access the astral realm. Then, you need to know how to define what you want, so you will have a chance of finding it. The only way to learn is through experience. I showed her again, this time demonstrating with something that looked like computer icons. I pulled several more items from out of nowhere.

My girlfriend's 11 year old brother was staring at me with fascination. His mother was dismissing everything I said, like she didn't think he was mature enough to understand. I locked eyes with him, and said, "You realize the ramifications of this, right? This is heavy, heavy, heavy, man. If you can learn this, you can do anything."

I then popped another piece of plastic rock candy into my mouth, and looked down at my dinner plate to realize I had accidentally taken the entire pizza instead of just one slice. The slices had somehow folded back on themselves, so they were piled up like a stack of pancakes. I started to feel like a rude dinner guest.

I was at another dinner party last night. I was explaining the following story to my mother. Definitely don't invite me to your dinner parties. My conversation skills could definitely use a little polishing.

_________



He hated his job. He hated being told what to do. He hated following a schedule. He hated the driving most of all. Stupid Fucking traffic. He downshifted, and slowed for the line of cars. His eyes automatically darted to his rear view mirror to be sure the car behind him was doing the same. He often felt like he was just on autopilot in his body. Like he relied on the programming of muscle memory and habits to run most of his life. He felt this especially bad when he drove.

"Messenger 2217, please report on ETA." His radio chimed.

Stupid fucking radio. He thought, as he ignored it.. As he pulled up to the house, he had a feeling that today was going to be one of those days.

He checked his reflection in the car window, and needlessly straightened his tie. Sometimes he felt like he didn't even recognize himself anymore. Could he even remember when his hair started to turn gray? Could he even remember what he ate for breakfast this morning? He made his way across the lawn, briefcase in hand. Stupid fucking briefcase.

He rang the bell, and was greeted by a young woman with a phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear.

"Is your father home?" He asked, knowing that he wasn't
"No, he's not." She answered.
"That's fine," He said. "I have a message for him, but he doesn't have to be here to receive it. In fact, It's probably better that he isn't home."

He swung his briefcase up to hit her hard in the face. The force knocked the phone from her hand, and sent her sprawling. A voice continued to squawk through the phone. That would be the sister. He thought to himself. Perfect. She's next.

He grabbed the girl roughly by the hair, and dragged her into the house.

...Her soft hair between your fingers - The memory intruded on his mind - Her smooth naked skin pressed against yours...

"Messenger 2217!"

He shook off the memories, and threw the girl into the bathroom. She tangled in the shower curtain, and fell to the hard floor, cracking her head on the white tile. "Your father has made enemies with the wrong people. Bad for him. Worse for you. You're the message." He set his briefcase on the counter, and opened the lid to reveal rows of sharp and gruesome instruments.

The girl tried to lift herself up from the blood smeared tile, groggy and dazed. She pulled weakly at the tangled curtain, as blood trickled from her broken scalp and into her blonde hair.

...Her soft blonde hair... Matted with blood. Broken glass scattered across the asphalt...

He braced himself against the counter as the long lost memories burned through his mind.

...He struggled to untangle her lifeless body from her seat belt, but couldn't reach her. The steering column smashed painfully into his shattered ribs...

"...2217!"

His vision blurred, and he stumbled against the counter, knocking his briefcase to the floor. The tools clattered to the floor, and he reached for the scalpel. "I can't.." He started. "You need to get out of here. You need to run, now!" He started to cut the dazed girl free from the tangled curtain. The scalpel easily slid through the thin plastic.

...The scalpel slid painfully through his flesh. It traced a long trail across his abdomen, and he felt every inch of the cut. Voices discussed him in the background. "We use a paralytic, not an anesthetic. The unbearable pain causes their minds to wipe the traumatic experience from their memory..."

A commotion in the front room startled him back to reality. "Help me!" The girl screamed as her sister burst into the bathroom. The sister grabbed the nearest weapon, a long razor sharp surgical saw, and swung it wildly at the man. He tried to defend himself from the blows without fighting back. The saw bit painfully into his forearms, tearing off long strips of skin and gore.

The attack stopped as suddenly as it began, and he looked up at the sister to see a paralyzed look of terror and confusion on her face. He looked down at the bloody torn mess that used to be his arms, and felt the same confusion. Below the skin, where there should be bone, was the glint of smooth metal. He ripped the ragged strips of flesh from his forearms and hands, revealing the shiny silver pistons and gears beneath. He laughed in bewilderment, and stood in front of the mirror. He tore his clothes from his body with his metal claw like fingers. They bit painfully into the skin of his chest, and ripped the flesh from his metal ribcage beneath.

"...malfunction in Messenger 2217!"

Came the voice in his head. He pushed it away, returning to the flood of lost memories now returning to him.

"...Her torn and crumpled photo, clutched weakly in his hand. The men's voices, "We leave them with the most painful memories to make them feel like they are still human. Their humanity makes them more complacent and easy to control..."

"Reprogramming team dispatched for Messenger 2217!"

He tore his left ear from his head to make the transmissions stop, and threw it into the sink. The girls huddled together on the bathroom floor, now more terrified than ever. He grabbed the small battery powered drill from his briefcase, and stood close to the mirror. He pressed it to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger in a spray of sparks and gore. He looked down at his hands and arms. The skin was already regenerating, covering the steel in a mockery of humanity.

Sirens wailed from just outside the house. He turned to the sister, "You called the police? Good. I'm going to take their guns. I'm going to need all of them."

Wow! :bravo:

Thats an amazing, creepy story. Thanks for that. Was it a dream?

Originally Posted by Yumeria

Wow! :bravo:

Thanks, I'll have to tell my subconscious you liked it. I thought it was cool, too.

Originally Posted by apachama

Thats an amazing, creepy story. Thanks for that. Was it a dream?

It was sort of a dream within a dream. I was telling my mother about the story, as if I had just read it (or maybe just dreamed it?). Of course, by the time I got two sentences into it, the dream switched so I was experiencing it first hand. Interestingly, I was still narrating and giving interpretations on the action as it was happening. Like when you read a short story for a literature class, and discuss it in a group.

Yeah. And the writing was even cooler.
I'm not into "blood and gore" stuff, if you will, but you really made it interesting.

I took GM again last night for the first time in several months. That shit is a miracle drug for sure. I can't remember the last time I had such a vivid dream, let alone such strong lucidity. The strange thing was, I kept returning to the same, bizarre, false awakening throughout the dream. Even though I knew the FA was not real, I felt as if it was reality, and the dream was layered on top of it. This is the first time I've ever been unable to wake myself up from a dream.

The first thing I remember is being in my old high school. I was lucid, and was intentionally bringing back the feelings of awkwardness and uncomfortableness. I wanted a clear memory of what it felt like to be young and at the mercy of the adults who ran my life for me. I explored old, long forgotten neighborhoods, friends houses, and childhood classrooms.

I looked out the window of the chemistry lab at a concrete courtyard with terraced fountains. I took a running start, and leaped through the glass into the courtyard. The glass shattered around me, interrupting conversations and turning heads. I walked between the cafe tables, excusing myself to the stunned people whose lunches I rudely interrupted. The fountain was made of several stacked, rectangular concrete troughs, covered in redwood planks. I climbed to the highest terrace, and looked down on the courtyard. The water started to overflow the rim of the lowest fountain, spilling into the pavement. I made it flow faster, filling the courtyard below like a swimming pool.

The water was filthy and muddy. Straw and green scum floated on the surface. I balanced on my high ledge, then jumped down onto the surface. I landed on the surface, sunk several inches into the water, then floated back to the top. It felt like my feet were made of wood, floating on the surface of the water. Every time my weight shifted, my feet would sink or float accordingly. I walked awkwardly to a table (also floating on the surface) and sat down to take off my shoes. As I slid my sock off my foot, I remarked at the vividness of the feeling. What a mundane feeling for my mind to reproduce so accurately. I stepped out onto the surface of the water, this time feeling the water splash against my bare feet. It reminded me of walking along the sea shore. When you let the waves glide up along the sand in a thin film to swirl against your bare feet. I jumped up and down a few times, feeling myself sink into the water each time, and then bob back to the top. It was almost like walking on a trampoline.


I opened my eyes to record the experience, and found myself staring at a strange room. My point of view was high, like I was on the top bunk of a bunk bed. I could see the top of a cabinet close to my face. The top of the wood was lined with long hooked bones, like a dinosaur's teeth, or ribs. In front of me, I saw a cheap fluorescent tube fixture suspended from wires. I knew this must be a false awakening, so I relaxed back into another dream. I narrated to myself, making the scene appear as I heard the words.

"I am running along a wide cobblestone road." To each side of me is an open expanse of white desert sand. The feeling of speed is incredible. I know I must be running faster than humanly possible. I can jump and feel myself propelled forward through the air. The speed feels like a roller coaster. I realize I am alone, and suddenly feel scared and vulnerable. I summon something I know will feel safe. The Luck Dragon from the Neverending Story. It appears next to me, snaking through the air with a smile on its gigantic face. I feel safer. I look to my other side, and see a panther or tiger bounding along with me.

The landscape has changed to a futuristic city. There is now a cliff on my right side, with a drop off to the city below. I steer myself to the right, and throw myself off the cliff. The image flashes through my mind of my luck dragon swooping down to catch me. It doesn't happen. I continue to fall, plummeting to the earth below. I look down, seeing the ground speeding towards me fast. "This is going to hurt," I think to myself. I see my shadow rushing up to meet me. As I watch my shadow, two tendrils sprout from it's shoulders. They twist out to each side, then balloon out into wide feathered wings. A second later, I feel the wings sprout from my own shoulders to match. They catch the wind, and transfer my momentum forward as I swoop along the ground. I flap my wings, and rise back into the sky.

I explore the city for several minutes. A green stone obelisk stands in the center of the city, the height of a skyscraper. It looks to be monolithic, carved in the style of Futurism or Art Deco. I fly up to the top of the tower, and land in a beautiful garden. It is landscaped with a line of stone walls and small shrubs. One of the shrubs is a young pineapple guava tree. I remember the fruit from my childhood. When I was three or four years old, my neighbor had a huge bush I used to steal fruit from. This tree was tiny, barely reaching my waist. I stood in front of it and held it's branches in my hands. I closed my eyes and focused on pouring my energy and loving happy memories into it. The feeling of energy flowing through my body was so real, I worried for a second that I was really giving something from myself that I could not get back. I felt the plant grow between my fingers, and opened my eyes to watch it climb the wall and fill out to an impressive size. Fruit sprouts on its branches, plumping up like water balloons. One close to me drops from the branch and I catch it. For some reason, I was suspicious. The fruit reminds me of an egg, and I imagine all kinds of horrible things hatching from it. I pierce its skin with my thumb, and tear it in half. It is a little dry and woody inside, but otherwise looks normal. I smell it, then taste it. It tastes like I remember, but very bland. I was disappointed.

I open my eyes again to the same False Awakeing as earlier. It is confusing. I am obviously lying on my side, but there is some illusion of space that makes me think I am looking at everything sideways, like the room is rotated. I can't figure out what I am looking at exactly. Is this a distortion of my real bedroom, seen in the dark? Did I move the guest room during my WBTB? Is this the memory of a room from some other time? I am paralyzed, but I want to explore this dream world. I manage to free one arm. I reach up to touch the ivory tusks that line the cabinet next to me. They feel smooth and warm. I can hear my father having a phone conversation from the other room. He refers to the person on the phone as "Little Man," so I think he must be talking to my younger brother. He is telling him to go to the doctor because I was sick recently. He might have the same thing I had. I close my dream eyes, and listen to the voice.

Suddenly, I am in a strange house I have never seen before. It is decorated like a house from the '60s, with greens and yellows and dull incandescent light. I reach for the doorknob, noticing it is one of the tiny disc knobs they used to put on the inside of closet doors. The door opens to a hallway lit with the same faded yellow light. I walk towards the sound of my father's voice. From the corner of my eye I see a door open, and a monstrous shape dart into the side room. I calm myself, telling myself it was not a monster. This is not a nightmare. The hallway leads to a kitchen floored in 60s green linoleum. My father is leaning against the wall talking on an old rotary phone. I am scared, so I tell myself the man looks exactly like my father. Not strange or monstrous at all. Just my father. I lean against the counter, and wait for him to finish his phone conversation. I have some interesting questions for him.

I am startled to see movement from the corner of my eye. There is a young, teenage African-American boy crouched next to me casually in the corner of the kitchen. His presence is startling, but he is leaning against the cabinets in a very casual non threatening way. I speak to him softly, to not disturb my father's conversation. "Hey, you know this is a dream, right?" He nods and stands up. "You want to see something cool? You want to see me breathe fire?" He looks bored.

I walk into the family room, where a mirror hangs on the wall. It is one of those old mirrors set in a bronze frame shaped like a sunburst. Straight wire rays extend out from the mirror to catch the light.

I inhale deeply, then breathe out like I'm blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I suddenly feel my body back in bed choke. I know my real mouth is closed. I sort of breathe out weakly, spitting out through my pressed lips. I try again, focusing on my dream. This time, I feel my real body breathe out with a "pffffftht" rasberry/ motorboat. I wake up to the dim light of dawn, knowing this is not false awakening. (Of course, I check anyways)

My alarm wakes me up. I switch it off, then lie still to try and recall my dream. I have memories of a long, involved dream about a luncheon with President Bush, and run-ins with law enforcement. My memories become very vivid, and I am back in the dream.

I stand on Main Street in my hometown, lucid and aware. A police officer is walking down the street towards me. I know I should wake myself up to keep from sleeping in, but I am curious to see what he has to say. He approaches, and asks, "Sir, what is that?" I look down at what I am holding, and reply, "It is a samurai sword." He asks smugly, "Do you have a permit for that?" I answer him, "A dream permit for my dream samurai sword? Are you kidding?" He looks confused, so I continue, "Do I need a dream permit to stab you in the chest with it? Or a dream permit to cut off your dream policeman head?"

He continues to question me about a conspiracy against the president. I explain that it was a dream I just had before this one. It is not real. I leave him standing there jibber-jabbing and go exploring. I am in a train station full of all my friends. We run around together cutting down power poles and street lamps with our comically large samurai swords.