Thread: Fluxus ClouDs

As soon as we make it through a shadow sweeps through us, giving us cover from light.

We all run ahead, this is end-game. The others sprint to join camp, and I prepare to strike first by sneaking to the enemy.

I have been here before, it's cold and bright, pale sand stretching endlessly. Footsteps lead me to the target and I crouch low seeing the archers' range.
A cat watches me curiously as I repeatedly jab a stiletto into the lone guard, his breathing stops.

I think this enough as the time draws fine.
Moving away as fast I can, they all see me at once; the sudden chase.

Thousands appear around me, and I jump through and over, wreaking damage with every resistance of my blade.

The dream is over, I think to myself; the camp is far. I lose lucidity at this final moment, and I feel remorse for him I left behind.
_____

I see mortality.
I watch it die, my blow was the end.
I see the struggle; embossing my tears.

This circumstance - the next. What can be said?
Did I only mean well, what did I say?

I almost did today. It came close to form; this can't be happening.
They would cry as I have, moving my fragility in their hands.

Did I only mean well?

It passes, I watch.
The picture book juggles, and I continue to watch.

I mean no good, nor bad.
It is and we are. Shadow is, and light is half this hand.

I see her. She's sleeping next to me, breathing deeply.

Sorrow creeps through my chest, and I'm not sure what to make of this. Is there difference now I'm dreaming? Is this her, or me?

I wake up and think about this.
_____

Falling back to dream, she is there again. Maybe it is just me...who is she?

Is she not real in dream? Is she real in wake?
I get memories of Chuang Tzu, and dreams of a butterfly.

The world starts to change, the dream starts to fade again. She is there, alone.

I am a witness, what could she be?

Something happened last night.

Before going to sleep, I had meditated for a long time. I think about 3-4 hours. Things also happened throughout that meditation period, though that will be for my Waking Journal. I also 'hallucinated' for what seemed to be an incomprehensibly lengthy amount of time.

This is the part where some might call me a liar. [it's happened before]

I sort of consciously meditated into sleep. I'm not sure what time it was, and I couldn't feel my body. There was intense pleasure, as accompanies most of my meditative sessions, and then there was a blank-out.

It was as if I was changing. It was a first time experience, so I was suprised [and suddenly scared].

_____

Seeing as I cba to type out 6 lucid dreams right now, I'll leave it as this for the time being.

Sweet dreams.
_____

I see a moon within, reflected from a darkness in this deep lucidity.
Looking around I see it clearly.

There's a boy, his story untold -- his expression stunted by itself. This experience - existence, I think as I feel in the cold emptiness.
He is crying for something, but even the tears won't go deep enough.

As if in a cold dark night, I sit and think, "Inside this dream, what am I?"
I can feel the coolness of breath as it touches me, the cold comfort of a dark night -- it feels as if I'm in the rain with my eyes closed.

For a moment this lasts, then colour starting to enter into the world, blossoming from nothing and blurry at first. The colours are warm but there is no temperature, just as there was no cold. Such an awareness of this, I become further lucid to the point of ecstasy.

A matt white erupts and rainbows of colour start evolving from all distances. It is so beautiful, a mystery that can't be known and only experienced.

I cry now, with tears of immense emotion. Rivers flow into this canvas and there is such a magic that can't be told. It is glorious, the very beauty of the miracle.

So suddenly that this has stemmed from, "what am I?"

I wake up, my face becoming wet from tears. Must I try to express this? This beauty...
I type silently as if no-one shall read, the compelling destruction of an experience.
These words come from this heart, they cannot be mine, in deepest sincerity.

A big house, wooden, mansion-like.

They're waiting for me to get ready to go out somewhere, and I'm waiting for the laundry. There's a flooding in the machine, it's from one end of the house stretching to the other. The clothes are all so wet, and I'm finding it quite funny.

There is a character throughout all the dreams that follows me, that changes into a number of people along the way.

He starts out as my brother, and we're trying to get ready faster to go out somewhere. There's a sense of urgency, and I'm finding it for some reason difficult to concentrate as I brush my teeth.

I move from room to room, seeing different people, family members, friends, other people watching TV.

We are all moving now, to go somewhere and I'm not really sure where we're going. All I know is that I feel excited at the mystery.

The scene blends, colours washing away and I notice a lot of the people are disappearing. I start to spin and the scene turns matte white.

I am moving again, towards a computer with Devir at my side. We're going online for something important or another, but I'm not so focused on that as he is.
We sit at the computers, wearing school graduation t-shirts. Turning them on, they start up immediately and we start to randomly browse the internet.

I think to myself that I could record this dream, and start to do so online.

I get to about the third line and hear a rumbling. Devir is gone and I look to the wall ahead of me thinking something is about to happen.
He smashes through it, now a different person. A sort of monster, and I try to avoid as he turns around and charges again at me.

It becomes as if a video game, zooming out to a 3rd person perspective, though I can still feel everything.
I'm now climbing on the remains of the wall outside the building, trying to get to the ground. He keeps swinging at me and almost gets me each time.

I manage to get to the first floor before he knocks me straight off onto the sandy ground.

I see this as an opportunity, and run down the orange-sand track. He's directly behind me now, but as Devir again.

He's so close and catching up, and I turn to realise he's suddenly not there. Turning back, a large steel rake is forced towards me face. I get a wooden pole on the ground with extreme speed and block it.

It's now a fight, with intentions of him killing and myself defending.

Blow after blow I block again, though it's becoming more difficult each blow.

The mood suddenly changes, and he's back to being my brother - Blake.

I think that it's a bit trivial and I've had enough, so I put the pole down and move to my mum who just appeared and said I wanted to shower.

She is a bit annoyed, and gives me a damp towel sending me off in a certain direction.

I wake up, noticing my mum has just entered into my room.
I sit up monotonously and feel an urge to record my dream. I reach for the laptop.

comment

I feel bad for trying to kill you :/

Lukewarm darkness.

Up, higher, higher.
Floating.

Sudden nothings.

I feel her...comforting.

Greatest clarity I have ever.

I had enough of the dream. Not just this, all.
Dropping the body, the mind. Entering through my eyes.

I was there.

Every sense erupted, and everything was clear.

Falling into nothing. Awaking.
Falling again. Awaking.
Again.
Again.
Again.

Hours and hours.

Some reality is to be experienced, not spoken of as illusions.

What happens when dream becomes reality?
When reality becomes dream?

A rhetoric question, I am the answer.

Intoning silence, falling far away -- was it a dream?

These eyes were closed, or were they?
Real seems less real, less aware. Describing it, I cannot taste the nectar - the juice of the cold lucidity; so I won't, I will let the fingers do the talking.

Now, have I stopped dreaming?

Reality check. The pinches hurt, the clocks move. I see through my hand now, as before.

If I am dreaming, when will I wake. If I am awake, when and where can I dream.
I may run from everything, but lucidity remains. I may move out of sight in the mirror, though I am always behind it.

So what...is?

I can hear the birds, and they sound like grinding metal. Am I dreaming a dream within lucidity, is the lucidity a lie? Could it be the lucidity remains as a happening, a constant - me...me, me, me?

Bright tinted skies now though, I must be dreaming.


I wake up to a pitter-patter of red dripping from the nose - so often.
Rush rush along cold tiles to a colder bathroom, I'm ready for the day, the living; minding the trenches. What else.


Tap tap tap, the day has gone; discovering moonlight in and between the black keys.