6/14/09
Off to Canadia!
I begin this journal with one of the most vivid NL dreams I've ever had. However, my night began with a very sketchy dream, with a few of my friends and I trying to put back together a blocky plane in a video-game fashion. We would realize something needed to go somewhere, like a pontoon, and it would just float to the plane and attach itself. We then did a couple of flight tests on it, and it passed. There may have been more, but I can't remember it. This, though, is where the fun began.
I have a feeling the dream ended, and I attempted a DEILD subconsciously (adding that to my sig in a few moments). However, I forgot about staying conscious, still being half-asleep, so I unfortunately only entered a NL. But how lucky I was! This dream must've been the most vivid dream of my entire life.
I can't recall exactly how the dream began, but I vaguely remember rowing out on the ocean(in a tiny dingy)into a cove and finding a treasure chest. I rowed back to the docks and patched up an old boat in the same, arcade-game-like fashion as I did the plane in my last dream. This is where the details came in to play. I remember placing the lunchbox sized, army green treasure chest on a wooden crate. When I opened it, I was astonished. Somehow the chest had grown about 3 feet longer, and the contents were amazing and profound. There was a beautifully crafted scimitar-looking weapon, with a dazzling golden hilt. Carved into it were various vine patterns. (This may have actually been influenced by my waking life; I sharpened an old machete I had in my garage yesterday. Though it had no ornate patterns on the handle, and the blade itself was rusted and cracked, the overall shape of the scimitar was just like the machete.)
I averted my gaze from the scimitar and searched the chest for more treasures. I found a scroll, slimy and wet, with a tarnished golden top (which leads me to believe that it was older than the scimitar, as the scimitar was in perfect condition). On the front was a map, with several real-life elements (though Canada was an island...) and a few made-up islands. On the back was a very detailed depiction of something I presumed to be an island, shaped exactly like a skull and crossbones, though I can't recall the name. I believe (though not certain; the writing could simply have been on the first scroll) I found another, smaller scroll, which had only a bronze strip at the top, as opposed to the ornately decorated top the map had. This was my favorite treasure in the chest, and my absolute favorite dream-created object ever. Though it was slimy and tinted light green, I opened it right up, anxious to read what it had printed on it. What I found shocked me.
It was an old poem, written in old script. This was truly the stuff of dreams. No writing I'd ever seen compared to it. Though quite unfortunately I can't remember the whole poem, it described that the treasure was no eternal life, no fortune, and that anyone would have to be godly to find such a treasure. Just then, a bunch of my classmates appeared, running and horsing around down the pier. I clambered up into a mossy tree with one of my friends, and showed her the poem. She loved it as much as I did, so I gave it to her. One of my teachers, who I went to with all my philosophical findings, was shortly down the road in a grassy spot. I went down the dirt path, laden with torches, and showed her the map. She seemed excited.
I then went back to my new boat to find some of these islands. During the trip, the little fishing boat transformed into an old-world, colossal galleon, on which my crew- pirates -were fighting. I joined in, fighting wildly with my scimitar, and the chaos dimmed a little bit. Soon, I was cornered by an old man who was fighting with dual hooks on his hands. I slashed away with my blade, but he kept advancing. He pushed me onto a tiny sliver of wood hanging over the water. Something inside me, some instinct, told me what to do, and I grabbed his hooks and kicked his chest with both my feet. The hooks came off, and the man was sent sprawling backward. I then returned to my ship with a few of my top sailors, and studied the map in some sort of council room. My eyes felt strangely dry, and tired, so I tried opening them more. My real eyes bolted open. I quickly went back to sleep. Then, my ship landed on some kind of arctic island, with igloos and snow. My men went anxiously into the igloos. I tried to also, but the igloo I approached was different from the others. It had an opening, but it was more a mound of snow than a strong, icy igloo. I attempted to go in, but my hand hit the top of the igloo, and I was buried in snow. Sadly, I woke yet again, and could not fall back to sleep. As the hour and a half I spent writing this clearly demonstrates, this was one of the best dreams of my life.