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The purpose of this journal is to keep record of odd events that transpire within (or as the result of) my dreams.
The discovery of new abilities, new states of mind, and new sensations are but a few examples of what I'd like to write about.
Text colors and what they mean:
Black: "Regular" (unaware) dream state.
Blue: Lucid dream state.
Rust: Awake.
.
"Stuck" -June 29, 2009
The dream was nearing its end. We were on the highway, passing a large government owned facility that once operated as a factory. It was some time in the near future, and people on the bus spoke highly of the nation's rulers. There was a business man asleep in the middle of the aisle on an office chair. He looked to be of Asian decent, and had a fair amount of baggage lying carelessly on the seats nearby. A shotgun was lying next to me, but it belonged to the business man. I peered out the window to my left and suddenly saw five smoke trails blur through the sky and straight down towards the highway. I began to stutter as I attempted to get peoples' attention, so they could see the saucer craft dodging up and down just outside the window. It looked familiar, somehow. It was being piloted by human beings. I knew this. It was also about as long across as three compact cars.
The saucer craft maneuvered around to the back of our vehicle, and as I turned to see it I noticed that I was now sitting in a car of unknown make and model. The saucer craft got closer, and as it did it also managed to get smaller. I began to wave at whoever the occupants were. This was strange, as every dream in which I've seen a UFO has always brought feelings of some forceful terror that emanated from the craft. This craft was from our planet though. There was no apparent threat. It kept shrinking, until it was about the size of Frisbee, and as it touched the glass of the rear side window I felt it. I felt that instant mental shock that comes as clashing climax of all serious nightmares. I felt the horror as those invisible claws dug into my head from all sides to tear at my sanity. I could hear anguished screams coming from the others inside our car, and from my own mouth. My experience lasted no longer than a quarter second.
Upon seeing my room, my first reaction was to perform a reality check. My eyelids were hanging half open, and I could feel the presence of some invisible, malevolent creature seeping through the the air of my bedroom. That led me to assume that it was still possible for me to be dreaming. Something was wrong, though. As I attempted to move my hands together, nothing happened... My body wasn't there. At least, it didn't feel like it was. I felt like no more than a head on a pillow. And something else was off. I could hear the smoldering of some wreckage in my ears, and I could half see my hands mangled in front of my face in that other world. I was seeing both through my real-world eyes and through the eyes of whatever person now lay dead in the middle of the freeway, the same person I was dreaming as. I was amazed, and I was confused. No more than ten seconds passed before my hands snapped together and the feeling of my real body returned. It occurred to me then that I had just experienced sleep paralysis for the first time.
I don't know what to make of having been aware of both my bedroom and the dream simultaneously. I felt as if I were stuck in between worlds.
"Acceptance" -July 4, 2009
I lay awake in bed. At least, that's what I thought I was doing. I stared up at the ceiling as I always do upon waking to think of what adventures I had over the night. As I peered over my room I noticed little bits of movements as something tiny kept ducking out of sight behind a random assortment of miscellaneous crap that lay all over my desk, dresser, floor, and so on. Whatever it was that kept eluding my gaze was about the size of a dime, but had no particular shape and no other defining features besides it's muddled grey colour. Everything began to feel wrong. I knew I was being watched, and it felt like the stares came from all over. I was approaching the beginning of a nightmare in broad daylight, and took the opportunity to do some study (I've been attempting to achieve nightmares more often lately to make some potential discoveries for lucid abilities). One reality check later and shazam.
As soon as I was breathing the free air of conscious dominance over my world, the nightmare bloomed. It was, as all of my nightmares had ever been, like a switch had been turned on that emitted some ultra-low frequency that stimulated fear and mental pain. Fear was always an understatement, though, and I imagine It'd be less frightening to die slowly from a variety of flesh-eating parasites, or to see a loved one pass. Regardless, my eyelids were forcing themselves shut, and my windpipe was choked. It was the usual. I always made a habit of fighting a nightmare, and time and time again it resulted in more traumatic endings. I wasn't allowed to wake up from this one either, so I was set for a pretty good time.
I let go. I let my eyes close. I focused on that horrible thrumming noise in my head, and although it grew in depth and intensity I was free to calm down. This was the second time I was attempting the method of going-with-the-flow during a situation that screamed "We're going to tear your soul into millions of tiny pieces, and it's not going to feel particularly good". I was amazed, you see, because somehow this was working. Accepting the nightmare and allowing it in made the fear almost superficial. It wasn't being triggered as a genuine response, but felt more or less as if there were electrodes embedded in my brain that activated whichever center was responsible for the emotion. I opened my eyes then, got off the bed and walked out of the room. The fear was still there, but I was feeling damned good about myself. I was exercising a very new kind of control. No constricted throat, no more sagging eyelids, and all of it while the nightmare continued. What got me to wake up afterwards was a feeling of extreme discomfort as my vision began to vibrate violently up and down. Disorienting, if I do say so myself. I was able to wake myself up.
I smiled. I acknowledged with some wonder that this nightmare, just like the one prior in which I used the same method, never came to it's climactic "shock" of an ending.
Personal Note #1: Acceptance of a nightmare's reality defeats the terrorizing element of the nightmare. Resistance reinforces it.
"Protective" -July 6, 2009
I was graced with the sweet, intoxicating feeling of love for another. I spared a glance at her as we ran from the bad man, Davy, panting heavy from the distance we had covered to get away. We were somewhere in an abandoned industrial center far into the desert now, but the man had followed closely. He was here, somewhere.. Our bare feet smacked the old metal walkway that creaked in the breeze 3 stories up, the expanse of desert stretching bellow, until we hit a break where the platform had fallen away some many years before from wear. This place had time, apparently, to crumble slowly at its own pace. This place had time. We had none.
A large, round metal pipe afforded us a landing spot some feet bellow the pathway, resounding with a hollow din as we hit it's rusty surface. There was a door just ahead of us, no doubt leading back into another section of the manufactory, but we stopped. Our panting continued, but we knew somehow that old Davy was closing the distance. I rested my hands on my knees, my knees that were covered in the faded camo of shorts I've owned for long now. What happened to my shirt... I couldn't wonder for long, and peered over my shoulder as my lover and I heard the pitter patter of restless feet nearing. We looked at each other again. Words were not necessary, I suppose. The man was in our sight now, and Christ did he run fast. He was a few yards away when T (the name I'll call my mate) stomped her foot into the metal and sent a twisted wreck of steel writhing up the man's body. Oh, I must've forgotten to mention that she could to some degree move metal upon contact with it. Davy was wrapped in his prison up to the neck, so T and I took the opportunity to continue moving.
What happened between that moment and the top level of a nearby parking structure is beyond me, but that's where we ended up. The air was warm, dry, and seemed to be blowing from all directions of the deserted plains. Pale blue skies stretched overhead without apparent end. We were still standing in the East corner when a little motion over the other side caught our attention. Davy (remarkably) was standing among us, this time with two other men. His cronies were armed with pistols, one of them a bright silvery color, the other one a black revolver. One pistol's sight set on myself, the other on T. Davy intended to watch, or at least to not get involved in something that could cost him his life. I was outraged, pissed, infuriated, and all manner of negative, hate-felt emotion that scratched the comprehension of words and typical thought from my mind once I saw the man put his gun to the piece of my heart I called my lover, T.
There was a scuffle. I grabbed my opponent's gun. T grabbed the gun of the man trying to squeeze a shot off on her. Davy fled, this time. He had, as is turns out, tried to kill us by gunshot previously in the dream. His cronies ran too now, both still with their guns as they got away. One of them jumped clear over the wall to our right, presumably to his death, and the other followed Davy. I began to see myself in third person now as I dashed over the cement in pursuit of the two men, and with my point of view right next to T, I watched myself jumped over the edge on the far end of the structure. Moments later I saw myself climbing back over the edge, fully aware that I had killed the other henchman. I held the silver gun in my hand. Davy was standing too close to T again (not aware of how he got back up), but only a moment passed as I watched myself yell, "This one's for you old D!" He turned his head to meet my eyes when his face erupted in an explosion of flesh as my bullet hit him square in between the eyes. My heavy breathing never ceased. I was caked with sweat and dirt, my hair wild, when my lover and I locked gazes.
There was an embrace after that; probably the most powerful feeling I've ever had from another person. It was deep.
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Afterthoughts:
I have a very difficult time thinking of any girl as a potential lover. The word "love" has been so butchered by mainstream culture that it appears to be the equivalent of "like very much". How would I describe the feeling I had for the significant other I had in a dream? Would soulmate be more appropriate? It sounds so god-damned Hollywood to me, and I despise that. How would I describe her? She was just like a version of myself, even with her own identity and unique flare. I might as well have known her for eons, or in lives past. The connection was deep.
I can put it best like this: I can't imagine, under any circumstances, having the same feeling for any person in real life.
And that leaves me with the following note...
Personal Note #2: Dream Love has ruined me for other women.
"Stormheralds" -July 13, 2009
Our motions felt like some form of otherworldly dance. I, the spirit of the wind, blew ceaselessly overhead as my lover rolled in towering waves bellow. She was the ocean spirit. We weren't represented as having forms or shapes. I felt no body. We could move from one place to another, though, and wherever we did we brought with us wet, unrelenting gales and undulating mountains of water, the blunt horror of which could be fully realized in those half-second flashes of lightning moments before your ship got swallowed by the skyscraping beast. And such was the joy of our relationship as we waltzed over the world. Plunging the tiny toy vessels of mankind into the abyss was something of a pastime for us. I knew that, in the back of my mind, the ocean spirit didn't consider what it might mean for us to recklessly destroy the makings of others, and my consideration of such things were mere side thoughts. I wondered lightly, but felt never restrained as I lifted water into my skies and brung it earthward in bellowing downpours, the hurricane force winds breaking masts and sending sailors overboard. Wrong place, wrong time, and that was the whole of the human situation.
I remember my lover and I taking shape, once, personified as human beings. Her face looked strong. She had an ageless quality about her that made her look young and full of life, but she wasn't without that something that said, "I've been here many a lifetime, many an eon". How would I describe it? I've never seen such features in real life. One could tell, at least, that she wasn't truly a human being. Her eyes were like storm clouds, and her hair shimmered vitally in an array of deep browns, ash, and simmering silver.
I watched myself fly low over the waves, freezing the water wherever I was closest.
How revitalizing.
"Decay" - July 30, 2009
I found myself at work in the corner of what appeared to be the gutted insides of an abandoned factory. There were no lights, save for the rays of grey sun stretching through the cracks in the boarded windows that lined the walls just bellow the high ceilings. There were thick chains that dangled from those ceilings, and hooks that dangled from the chains, and from those hooks hung the old, decrepit corpses of people who'd long since past from the world. Dust hung in the air, but there was a mouldering wet smell that stuck to the inside of my nose and lungs as I breathed. Laying in front of me was a heap of more bodies, each one carelessly strewn over the other.
The stool, yes, that creaky piece of wood was what I sat upon as I bent over my subject: what appeared to be the remains of a middle aged man faced down on a low table. The body was missing a lot of skin on the upper-left portion of its back, where I dug in ceaselessly with a long, thin instrument that resembled the slim hook that a dentist would use to poke around on one's teeth. I pulled up long, stringy scraps of flesh with each stroke, which would then be placed into a container just to the left of me. The container was an upturned skull. If it wasn't, it looked a lot like one.
The dream continued this way for a while. I avoided the ashy-grey fibers that ran along the spine. I was eventually able to see the back of the ribcage as I dug deeper, and moved onto the body's arm by pulling off the first flap of skin that already clung loosely to the old muscle beneath.
I was disgusted throughout the entire course of dream. As I worked I felt nauseated, and wanted to vomit. I strangely felt as if I was doing the task against my will, or as if I was watching as something else within me continued the dirty work.
I woke up a little ways later. The dream wasn't long.
Corrupted. Filthy, on the inside. At odds with myself.
Those feelings were brief.
The dreams I am about to post were disturbing in a new way for me. They weren't nightmares, and they didn't play out like regular bad dreams, either. I woke up from each of these, struck by the disgust, wondering if something was wrong with my head.
"Disfigured" - August 27, 2009
The night was young, and we were indoors somewhere, perhaps still at home getting ready to depart, perhaps in a department store. The walls were white, and there was a window with the darkened sky beyond, the slats obscuring the view as they slashed horizontally across the pane. I was dressed in black and bits of neon green. I don't really have clothes like that, do I? But what's this? The girl I was with was dressed similarly, small black slippers, a black skirt and top also dashed here and there with neon. How cute was that? I knew I had had a thing for her for a long time, but we were friends, and good ones at that. This stroke of coincidence changed the atmosphere, though. Almost made us look like a couple, didn't it? Yes.
The scene shifted somehow. Her hair went from the short cropped blonde to a light brown, her eyes became empty. She came close to me, and although I felt something wrong, I proceeded to close the gap. We were face to face, and her mouth opened, but it was wrong. I was a very large O, almost unnatural, and loose. Her eyes sucked inward so that black pits replaced them, as did her nose. Its nose. It wasn't human anymore, and the skin lost its color. The jaw now hung open wide, and it extended forward, stretching, thinning out, until it extended about two feet beyond this thing's face. The tongue that burst forth was long and round, slippery, wet, pointed at the end. It whipped around as if searching for something.
The scene in front of me was rigid, almost as if peering through a monitor or television screen, and I could not shift my gaze. Spiders began to fall everywhere, nice plump ones with deep yellow color and short stubby legs. The tongue touched one of them, and on the spot a set of grey claws descended to pick the spider up and out of my view. The tongue touched another, and another, and each time the claw reached down to grab it. More spiders fell, now brown ones, and purple ones with swirling designs on their abdomens, all to be touched by this tongue and taken off, probably to be eaten. I drew back. There was no fear, and this surprised me. There was only a feeling of disgust as I watched this defilement proceed in front of me. The defilement was happening inside me, actually, it was my dream. It was my dream. I woke up.
"Leave me alone. Leave my room."
"Infested" - August 28, 2009
I was faced with a problem as a small boy kept asking me to check the pot of soup in front of us. We were standing on a second floor walkway, and the sun shone down in lovely golden rays. Upon a tall, skinny wooden table was a large pot of what did indeed appear to be soup. And.. And something in the soup. It swam around, tiny and deep blue, just beneath the surface. Ah! It leapt up and plopped right back in. The bug looked almost like a beetle, but it was segmented. No, it looked more like this beetle larva.
The kid and I looked closer, and I pointed out that there were more of the bugs swimming around. We kept lowering out heads as the little blue guys darted around in what was supposed to be our dinner, until we saw much larger yellow grubs wriggling around on the bottom, some reaching up with their shiny black heads to touch a bean or noodle. But I was wrong, again and again, because there were no more beans or noodles floating around, nothing that was actually edible. Everything was alive and swimming, but they weren't alive alive. I felt like a pot of fresh brewed disease was what sat in front of me, thick and pungent and ready to infect the masses. And we were supposed to eat this. Revulsion filled me.
I don't understand. I've always loved bugs. What was going on.. "Get out of my room."
"New Life" - August 28, 2009
I was watching a scene unfold in front of me in a world much like our own. This world was smaller by far, but there were people and buildings and society all the same. These people had large heads. Bald heads. They weren't alien though, no. They had eyes like ours. The scene I watched took place on a bridge some time just after twilight in a beautiful part of town. The breeze was cool and the smell of fresh cut grass drifted on the air. There, walking along said bridge above the creek, were two impostors clad in police uniforms. They weren't a part of this society, or this species. They were terrible. They looked just like any of the other people though, so they blended in fine.
They were alone save for one other person crossing the bridge the other way. He smiled his last smile toward the false officers as one of them opened their mouths so wide that he consumed the citizen whole. The other officer turned to his partner and smiled with a row of glittering razor teeth, eyes full of murder and the chaos of whatever world they hailed from. There was dialogue between them, concern. They laughed and spoke of how long they could keep up their work as they made their way over to a nearby tree, behind which was a large pile of black shit. The shit, of course, was made up of the eaten people after they came out the other end. The piles were large enough to be comically too obvious to hide behind a tree.
I see one of the officers flare in anger as he peers at another shit-heap behind the neighboring tree, this time filled with concern over whether or not that particular heap would make itself known to the people. This heap was covered in unnaturally large earthworms. Nothing was wrong yet. Nothing felt horrible or gut wrenching in the dream until the worms parted to reveal a hole in the mound. Blue light glowed from the hole, the kind that always looks out of focus no matter how you try to look at it. The bad feeling began to descend, and a long, shimmering strand emerged from the hole as it did. It wriggled slowly, gracefully, that brain-tearing blue light falling off of it in sheets while it took its time to slide out into the world.
This blue thing was a non-thing somehow. It was unnatural, an unraveller of existence as I felt its own thinking mind pierce my own, this thing that was born from the decomposed corpses of so many people in this world that was about to face its descent into the maw of madness. I hated it. Another mound further off cleared as another shimmering strand of blue appeared, a newborn alien worm. I was strangely reminded of the Combine Advisors from Halflife 2. They were in my head. They were in my dream, and something about this was very, very, very wrong.
"Leave me in peace." Sleep was going to be easy though, because that dream was no nightmare. No fear again, just deep disgust. What was wrong, what was wrong.
"Oneness" - September 16, 2009
I was in the air, looking down upon rolling green hills under a lightly clouded sky.
The sun stretched down in long rays. Small buildings dotted the land. It came
upon me in a rush that I wasn't in our world anymore. Or, I was, but not in the
same time period. I was in some time many years from now. A thought entered
my head, a little piece of understanding, "There are no more religions, not the
way there was, and all of humankind has a higher, unified understanding of
what God really is. There is peace now, and there is peace forever." I felt
connected to all things. I felt myself linked to all living beings of the world and
the universe, and it was good.
"New Horizons" - October 11, 2009
Black was the late evening sky as it blanketed the land, another typical setting (for another typical dream). I was in a common place, just outside the apartment building in which I resided, on the street, next to my car. I had just parked and stepped out into the crispt, cool air. The action around me was null. Not a car on the street, not a person in sight. The street lamps emanated faint halos of light. I looked up and stretched my arms to the side, staring ever upwards until my eyes met the same endless plain nothing, the space above that was so devoid of light. No stars. Nada.
A strange feeling overcame me, then. I felt light. I decided to jump, the way I would when I was lucid, in order to fly (I do that sometimes, in real life). In doing so I ended up with a sort of accidental reality check as I hung a good story or two in the air. Yes, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. How long it's been since I've last been lucid! was what I first though upon discovering my freedom all over again. The dream bender was back in all of his wondrous glory. Such a silly thing, glory. BUT I DIGRESS! The setting around me shimmered, wavered, and with one sudden twist was gone as I burst into clear, sunny skies thousands of feet above the Earth. The air was warm and delicious, the smell of the desert hung heavily as it spread its being over the land and into the thin line in the background where it met with the deep blue yonder.
Desert, yes, and so much more fantastic than any desert I've seen or would likely see in the waking world. There were tall buildings, spires made of glass and metal that rose cleanly and neatly from bellow, all dotting the land with large distances between and roads to join them. Around these structures were muddled lots of greens and browns that I took to be self-sustainable agriculture arrangements. And that's exactly what they are. I was looking down upon some other humanity, one with competence and an eye for beauty that far exceeds the one of the people I grew up with. But is that true? I'm the one dreaming this right now. This is in my head. Surely, if I can imagine a setting this breathtaking (and it WAS beautiful), I ought to be the architect planning the city layouts back home. Why aren't we designing things this way already? Why settle for such mundane living arrangements when we can have THIS? I pondered these things as I soared over the needle-tops of the spires.
What followed was much exploration. I descended into the communities, peered around, saw the people, and marvelled at the ramshackle arragement of the smaller living-quarters that seemed all at once so disorganized and so welcoming. There was certainly a feeling of artistic flare that flew off the buildings, one that contrasted and balanced the dominating aura of the silver sky-scrapers. I made my ways up into the air a bit once more and wondered briefly if I wanted to add this dream to my line of personal research on nightmares. I flexxed my will, felt the air shimmer once more ever so slightly and knew that, had I wanted, I could end this pleasant night in a cacophony of silent, deafening horror. I've become good at this, somehow. Good at conjuring true nightmares. I decided to stick with the good dream. Such felt like the right decision, and one with which I could attempt some other productive task. I mused on the side about how effective a generated nightmare would be as a defense mechanism, were such things like dream sharing even remotely possible.
I ended up in a relatively small bedroom with newly painted walls and clean, carpetted floors. Someone must've just moved out. Well, what shall I try? Somewhere amidst the seconds the thought occurred to me that I could directly meet other real life people here by willing them into existence as DCs. And why not? I'll summon all of Dreamviews! Let's see what THAT post would look like in the member-dreams thread! The best place for this would be the roof, just a feeling. I rose up through one ceiling, and another, and another, and began to get the feeling of dirtiness on my skin. Might be the asbestos, and I laughed out loud to myself. I ascended, ever upward, and faded slowly, slowly, slowly, until
I woke. I didn't get to accomplish the mass summoning, and made a mental note to go for it the next time.
Though it may appear short on paper (so to speak), that was the longest lucid dream I recall having.
Very nice to read. I thought the bug thing in the soup was real at first, because I got the keys mixed up and thought that black meant awake. Made me feel sick anyway. Glad I didn't dream that.
It's unpleasant to be reminded of, say true, but a necessary one to keep down.
And thank you, it's an honour to know that someone appreciates the way in
which I portray my dreams. :)
I've been waiting on a detailed, meaningful dream to continue my journal with, and had so far been having little luck. Thankfully, both the meaning and superior recall were present in last night's dreaming escapades.
The following is one dream.
"What IS Love?" - December 19, 2009
It began with driving. Much.driving. I had driven home over many miles via an interstate highways (I-5, I think), and by the time I had approached Los Angeles, what with it's dirty, smog ridden air, I decided to turn around and head elsewhere. Time was forever. I had all the time in the world. I was assuming that so long as I continued back along the same road, the path would remain the same, but it happened not to be the case. Subtle changes in my surroundings sprung up, and as I peered over my left shoulder to see the city again I could see the sun peaking over the horizon, highlighting LA's brand of air in a slew of purple hues. The skies ahead of me, however, were crystal clear blues. A rare site this close to heavy civilization.
There was no destination in particular, not anymore, but as long miles rolled by I eventually came upon a pleasant site. An impressive hill covered in lush green grass and arrangements of red and pink flowers flanked the left side of the road (no longer an interstate). There were a few squat buildings that flanked the land and, according to several signs, belonged to an electric company of some sort. My car made its way slowly up the dirt path as it curved in a gentle leftward arch. I could hear the gravel under my tires. Left a bit more, and around a sharper bend the path shot up at some ridiculous 70 degree angle. Roses and bits of broken concrete bricks stuck out of this side of the hill, the path denoted (by sign again) to be a service road. My curiosity would have allowed me to continue if I didn't have an inexplicable dream-fear of driving up steep slopes. I put the car in park, shut it off and stepped out. Rolling green all around. I lay in the grass, fix my eyes on the sky, and listen to the cool nothing-whispers of the breeze.
A minute passes. A dream minute, that is, however long that may actually be, and off to my left I hear the footfalls of people. Two women were walking towards me, perhaps the owners of the property I was so kindly trespassing on. As they neared I could make out the beginning of faint lines on their faces, the result of a mix of labor and age. They asked if I wanted to join them in their home, to which I agreed. This place had a positive feel to it, I was sure, and I followed them with a light happiness in my heart the short 80 yards to the nearest building. There I recall meeting two other girls my age (I was around 26 or so in this dream), both of whom wished to show me around, and them I followed back outdoors again. One with black hair, the other with hazel. One short, the other about my hight, respectively.
I saw apple trees, peach trees, a number of small vegetable plots and, among these, a small pond. There were fish, and I awed at the small orange ones that had the shape of angelfish but laid flat on the bottom like flounders, even had both eyes on one side of their face! I don't remember getting an explanation for that. The girl with hazel hair (we'll call her Grace) remained while her sister, or friend or whomever, ran back into the house. There was light conversation. She pointed back to the fish again, this time at larger orange trout (it's what they looked like) and remarked upon how she thought it was strange that some had fins that were too short for them to actually use, and for that they had trouble swimming. Puzzling.
A friend of mine, Phillip, happened to be back in the house when we returned, and explained that a lot of the workers would be returning soon. I was under the impression, the entire time, that the women of this home were married. There were more, too, either about on the land doing something or inside tending to other things. I remember being hungry and asked them if there was anything to eat. I found a peach on the dining room table, cut it into slices and ate them as I listened to Grace explain that there was a vegetarian place nearby that they went to sometimes, but otherwise lived straight off the land. That sounded so jolly to me. I love the idea of being able to live straight off of the land that way, and thought fondly of the idea. She also appeared to be interested in me, which was puzzling considering my previous assumption. I was, after all, just a visitor to this place. Passing through.
Chit-chat passed some of the time, and a good deal of men (mayhap 6 or 7) stepped through the front door. Some sported t-shirts with heavy metal bands on the front, some had very long hair, and some were overly obese. I wasn't sure what to make of what kind of work they could possibly have been doing together, but felt it had something to do with either construction or a various manual labor job. They were tired and appeared worn, but also happy. One of the men, a very large one weight-wise, was terribly familiar. They settled into the living room to eat and watch some television, and I took this as my queue to begin my departure. The sun was settling on the other side of the sky now.
Before I left, however, I stepped into a back room for something. Probably because of some odd dream fate that I'll never be able to fully understand. These things occur that add to the plot of our stories, but we remain completely unaware of what's going on beneath the surface until it actually happens. There in the room I found Grace, standing, but with a wooden board on her front side, from her feet to the base of her neck, and with straps that looped around her. This scene was so... out of place. She looked sad, beaten even, and then ashamed upon seeing that I had stepped in to find her in such a state. I asked her why she was strapped to a God-damned board, to which she replied it was a form of punishment from her family. Clearly, I didn't understand. I pressed as to why her husband would stand for this, and, of course, she answers with, "I am alone." Story of my life, deary, say thank-ya. She told me further that she had no one, and my dream played out in cinematic fashion from then on, which is terribly clever for the mind to be doing subconsciously. "Well," I began, as I whipped out a knife and sliced the first strap, "you have me now," and finished the rest. She hugged me, and I her, and there was a connecting moment going on. This wasn't an OMG SOULMATE INFATUATION dream. This felt like legitimate love; calm, simple, and destined if such things could ever be. There was a sort of.. "oneness" thing going on. Does that make sense? Anyways, she was going to be coming with me when I left. That's how it was. Before that though, she pushed me back onto the bed and (hollywood, lol) jumped right onto me and kissed me like I've never been kissed before. Oneness, mhmm.
At least I was right about my good feeling of this place, in that the story ended rather nicely. I remember only her in the end there with me, her last act of passion to me before I faded out of that world and back into this one.
I gave some thought to the concept of love, now that I could think coherently. The night prior I was telling a friend that such things will not happen, not for myself, and not in a moaning, pissy way either, but rather matter-of-factly. I have experienced infatuation for another. That is not love. Love was that connection in the dream, one that I've experienced in dreams prior. Can that ever exist between two people in such ways? Well, it's not the first time I've asked the question. Typically it's "Is it possible to feel THIS free and ALIVE in the real world?" just after waking from one hell of a badass lucid, or, "Is there such thing as fear like this in the real world?" after nightmares that are beyond what my words are capable of expressing. To the latter two questions, I've answered "No." It's hard to recall the intensity of the fear or joy after long enough time has passed between the present and when the dream in question occurred, let alone imagine that same intensity as a possibility while awake, and without being under the influence of some drug. Is that connection possible? In an ideal world, sure, and that's the answer I'd like to hear, but I'm settling on a realistic "maybe" that leans towards "No" for the time being. I wish it did, or rather, I hope it does, but only time can tell, and sometimes time doesn't bother to tell if you don't find yourself in the right circumstances.
I have become progressively ill over the past three days, and today it appears to have gotten a tad bit worse. Sickness always makes for bizarre dreams.
"Incoherence" - December 25, 2009
I was under construction, some large mass of beams, wires, and large bubbly structures that appeared to be pixelated in places and distorted by static in others. I was not solid. I was unstable, and it felt uncomfortable. There were large parabolic projections sticking out from all over, and pathways that twisted all over and inside me. Are you familiar with those dream that make sense while your dreaming them, but not after you wake up? This was nothing like that. This dream made no sense while I was dreaming it. There was no particular emotion or feeling besides knowing that I was somehow broken or diseased, or just generally wrong. I had no sense of up or down, or of size. I could have been as wide across as the universe or as small as a pinhead. But God, so much discomfort. Very unpleasant. Everything that was not me was black. I was the only thing that had any colour, and even that was lacking. I just remember being pale. Remember, I was not a person in this dream (as in, did not have human shape). I was a raging mess of stuff piled on top of itself through impossible physics. It was ugly.
I had a booming headache.
D:
Get well soon.
Thankee for the get well wish Loaf, I've been (mostly) better. Good enough to be outside a-runnin.
Following dream was special. The first two paragraphs are the significant part.
"My Daughter" - January 10th, 2010
I only remember being in a school. Whether that was a high school, or elementary, or maybe something like the university I'm currently attending, I can't remember for certain. All I know is that I walked into one of the rooms, and there stood three people. A mother, father, and their daughter. I had to be here for a reason. I remember talking to this girl, and she was very young. "How old are you?" I asked in that rich voice that people often use to speak to younger children. She responded with 11, though she looked younger. She had short blonde hair and eyes of deepest blue, but the most stunning part of all was that I saw myself in her. I have neither of these colours in my hair or eyes, but in the way in which she held herself and the way in which she spoke and acted, there was me. And in retrospect this makes sense. Everything in my dream is essentially myself to varying degrees. What I felt I was looking at, however, was like a daughter. Or a soul-cousin, or whatever you want to call it that makes you feel like you're family to something or someone you hadn't previously met. She was a wonderful little person, so calm and composed. She didn't seem to be so far ahead of her years intelligence-wise, maybe just like any child, but there was a solemn peace in those eyes I saw. I remember that her actual father now had wanted me here for a business proposition. I was to design a website for him, and so I was hired there on the spot. I showed him some basic things on the computer there. He gave me an idea of what he wanted and a scheduled date for when we'd next meet to do this. He wanted to be present while I was working, see.
The story skips ahead a little bit, and I'm at the home of these people. The parents are almost like shadows when it comes to detail. Hard to make out, not that meaningful and paling in comparison to their (or my) little one. In any case, I worked on their computer there and made conversation with the girl. I don't remember any particular things that were said, just that during our palaver there was an odd moment in which time seemed to distort and I saw what she looked like (or would look like) over the years to come. Very peculiar, but full of some meaning I can't quite put into words. Again, there was that connection, like she was a seed of my thought or of my being. I knew that we were going to be friends for a long time in this world. It did occur to me that her parents, or anyone else for that matter, would find such a friendship odd. People would most obviously have the wrong idea, and could any of them be blamed? Would I not think the same thing if I was witnessing it as another person outside the bond? Well, that's a good question. That's what had gone through my head in a few seconds time as I sat before my work and beside my little friend/daughter. I felt there would be a time when circumstances would remove us of the other. I don't remember if this made me overwhelmingly sad or not. It just felt a part of time's course, as a possibility and not a fact.
Time skips again. I'm back at this school, on a handicap ramp that leads up to a class. The sun is up and bright, and the previous story seems to have ended. I'm looking up to my right at a massive spider's web, where on the wall (and much to my shock and surprise) was a young alligator. This should have been the point where alarms in my head went off and I go into lucid overpower mode, but my tiredness from the night's workout must have really left me conkt out. Well, I keep staring, and see that the gator has a large, fuzzy red spider in its mouth, and I mean large like tarantula large, and mayhap bigger than that. I'm speaking excitedly to a friend or two standing nearby about how I've never seen such a thing and how bizarre it was (dur dur). Well, the gator begins to head my way, and I back myself up into what turns into my home kitchen. "Shit," I suddenly think, "nowhere to go now." And I back up until I'm against the wall, the young, ancient dinosaur all the while moving closer. I hop onto the counter to my left and grab a broom that was leaning against the (get this) broom closet. For reasons unknown to me, the gator is now the spider, except in place of the numerous hairs on the older one were scaly spines and longer legs. This guy was a little bigger than my hand with the fingers splayed open. I tried to sweep it away, but it latched onto my bottom of said broom and from there was able to jump onto the counter opposite me. It faced me with its front legs raised high and what was an almost inaudible foamy-hissing noise. The same thought occurred, "SHIT!" as it jumped into the air towards me, my previous feelings of safety completely dissolved. It lands on my back, and I wake in my bed shaking myself violently side to side in an effort to shake off what isn't there.
As WakingNomad would say, "THATS INTENSE!".
Anything spider related is horrible for me. Something like that would have scared me so much.
Interesting about the little girl. I wonder what it meant when you saw her go through the stages of her life... seems deep.
Aye, that was very curious. I don't recall and event like that with the girl
having happened to me before. As for the spiders, it was also puzzling being
that I've long since lost what used to be only a slight aversion to them. I've
come to find many of them quite beautiful, and sometimes quirky if I'm watching
something like a jumping spider with its large eyes and jittery movements. To
dream negatively about something that I take interest in real life though is not
new to me. The idea of alien spacecraft, for example, has always interested me
in real life, but been the cause of many a childhood nightmare. Little sense.
Wow, that is strange. Like you were saying, you would think that something you take interesting to positively would not be reflected negatively in you dreams. Very strange indeed.
"Thine is the Kingdom" - January 22, 2010
The beginning is, at it so often happens to be, dim and difficult to recall. I was with the son of the king for reasons unknown to me. Was I a friend of the prince, or an invisible observer? The king was a fair ruler with the look of a seasoned viking, and his son a practicing sorcerer in his mid-twenties. The prince, whose name is lost on me, was tall and somewhat lanky, pale, and with dark hair that hung in thin curtains to his waist. He had about him an air of indomitability, as any sorcerer worth his salt ought, but he was unhappy. It was his decision to leave the kingdom, perhaps for good, but it was in my best interests (and likely his) to remain with him as a sort of keeper. I felt he had ill intentions and figured it wise for him to remain in kind enough company on his travels. He stepped into a boat on the shore of a beach, for the horizon was lost to the sea, and we left. I must not have been invisible, but I was still unsure.
Only a short time had passed before he spotted what appeared to be a coast-guard boat in the midst of an incredible school of fish, jumping about to and fro, in and out of fishing nets this other boat had cast. The prince dove into the water for food, and so I followed. The sensation was amazing, with blue skies above and the crystalline waters around me, cool and lapping at the skin as the fish swam about. I was refreshed and swam not as a human would, but like that of an eel. I moved through the water with such ease and even managed to catch a fish in my teeth, food bound for the belly, but not before my young sorcerer friend had done the same. I remember that there were a lot of nasty, yellow custardy things that rolled out of the now dead fish I caught, but much of the meat was fresh and pink and appeared healthy assuming I chewed off the right places.
At some point we climbed back into the small boat. I don't remember doing this, only that we were no longer skimming along the surface of the ocean, but ascending into the skies. Those skies were now dark with cloud and fog, and through them shone an immense and titanic shape the likes of which I'd never seen suspended above before. We approached at a steady pace this land mass in the deep blue yonder, and before me, after having gained high enough altitude, shone structures and courtyards that struck awe into my heart. I was looking upon an ancient castle with greyed and pitted stone walls that may as well have been crumbling for millenia, eroding in the winds. Large walls rose upward still and arches extended from one tower to another, one keep to that one, and this to this one, some bridges sagged in the middle and others with their bottoms hanging in pointy stalactite shapes. I was in a room in one of these towers now, looking upon grass that must have been a part of generations of growing, dark and ominous in a field that spoke of old age and death. It was very calm here. A little further out stood a stone platform upon which sat little creatures I could not make out, and around them was a ring of green fire. One of them had flown up to the tower window and squawked at me, a crow covered in chrome scales. I was not alone in this room, it seemed, as the crow lept from the window into the room and took upon an almost human shape that disappeared in smoke bellow the thighs. This apparition-woman grabbed a bystander by the neck, had shone us a vision and asked the man a riddle. This bystander answered wrong, and was slain by fire as the shape-shifting being set him alight. The riddle was posed to me, and I saw now the vision of large ships sailing on dark waters through mist, with a violet sky beyond lit by a alien sunset. I knew the answer, and woke up.
The imagery was nothing short of epic. Glad I had this one, though my descriptions can never do it justice.
Nice entry as usual. I wonder what those yellow things were that came out of the fish. :o
I saw something in my dreams last night that I think no one should have seen. My memory of it now is only that of an image, but there was a very strong feeling that accompanied it. I was in some other part of the galaxy, still in space, looking at what appeared to be a partially organic vessel. It belonged to a savage race of aliens that I thought shouldn't have existed. I felt that what I was looking at was real. There were two appendages that extended off of the back end of the craft that bore some semblance to snakes with mutilated heads, and were probably the same thickness around as public city buses. The skin was like that of a human, but tougher and almost stony looking, patched and diseased in places. My understanding of this craft came immediately upon first having seen it: The beings that piloted this thing would attack other vessels and use the organic half of their ship to digest the victim occupants. I saw two of such occupants floating through space from a wreckage as one of these "snake head" organs opened up, exposing a long [tongue?] that looked made of the skin under our own tongues, this one with a mess of stubby tentacle feelers on the very end.
What happened next was disturbing. The ends of these tongues open up to accept their victims, who appeared to me at first to be human. My next view was from inside the organic material itself. I was looking down at an intestinal track of sorts, the walls of which were veiny and thin. Thin enough, in fact, for the skin to take the shape of whatever was inside it. It was thin where there was nothing inside, and would stretch to fit around that which it was digesting. I saw the arrival of its newly captured meal, no long human in shape but with a significantly larger skull. I could made out the shape of the poor thing's teeth under the skin of the intestine as it grimaced, could see it's large, lidless eyes. Most of all I could hear it screaming in my head. I was picking up on something else as well: The creature being digested below me was a telepath. It made me believe it was human earlier in order to get my attention, to get me to sympathize, but now that it was being tortured to death it lost it's ability to focus on transmitting that clear image. Further down the intestine I saw other humanoids of different species, most of which were dead. There was an odd negative feeling that pervaded this place that was not like my experiences in other dreams. Also strange were narrow walkways made of flesh that lined either side of the intestine, upon which was one of the alien aggressors that served on board this thing. It was also humanoid and looked much more like us, but wish smaller eyes and almost entirely decayed skin, though it was still all intact. There was intelligence in it's face, and a desire for war, though it was only a servant.
I got the feeling that everything I saw and felt here was real. The feeling came from the spacecraft I was in. It was intelligent as well. It could think. It knew I was there inside it, though I was not in a material form.. As if it could feel me with its mind.
What an amazing read. You should post this in the dream gallery.
Hm, I hadn't considered doing that.
"Return" - March 19, 2010
I was standing with two other people, presumably friends, at the bottom of a vast wall covered in moss and vines that stretched upwards of several stories. We were in a marsh, and what lay beyond the massive gate before us was once a bastion of civilization, its time long since passed. There was the sound of crickets (or something similar), and wet, muddled sploshing noises from everywhere and nowhere. The air was wrung with a dim greenness. I had also known that human life just over this wall had ended some few thousand years ago.
Looking up at the gate, one might have thought this an image out of an ancient oriental temple. There was the head of a dragon carved out of what appeared to be jade and hung upon the old petrified wood of the doors. The eyes were as large as my head, round as orbs and with a pale misty look that shone out of them like dying moonlight. My company and I were then looking down at a notch made in the stone of the wall that the gate was hinged to. There was a depression in the ground and a hole that bored into the stone, above which read "Success." Everything came together here in a way that can only happen in dreams. This trough was for sacrifice. The only way to open the door was through blood.
Success flows in a river of blood.
That statement stood out in my mind like a flare. I'm thankful I still remember it, an odd bit of poetry that can indeed reflect some of the nature of what it means to obtain success. Nevertheless, my party and I had taken our knives and cut deep gashes into the backs of our calves and waited within the dip in the ground, watching as the thick red flowed from us and grew until it rose the inch or two it took for it to get to the hole in the worn wall. These events passed quickly. There was no pain. In fact, I can hardly remember the door opening at all, but just that we were inside the city (or town, as it would not be considered a city by our standards today).
Large Victorian era homes dotted the landscape next to ramshackle, almost medieval looking homes and wooden towers. There was a homely feeling here. A few windows were alit with the glow of lanternlight, which surely must have been an illusion. The sky was dark. The ground here was solid dirt, no longer marsh-like, and most of it covered in flattened cobblestones. This could have been a setting out of a fantasy world with dragons and wizards. But no people here. Not for a long time.
Next I recall I was standing in one of the many homes, on the third floor. There also stood the Gunslinger our of the Dark Tower series, and the setting all of a sudden became the Gilead of long ago. A bird flew into one of the broken open windows with a damp, cool breeze. It was as small as a hummingbird, and of brilliant blue, but this bird was extinct everywhere except within these walls. That realization said something sad about this place. Everything here was old, but some of the old life remained. Like distant memories.
----------------------------
There was another dream a night before in which I'd become lucid.
I was standing in the middle of the street outside my home, usually bustling with traffic but quiet on this day. The dream had gone on a while before this moment, but it was here that it very slowly dawned upon me that I was not in my wake-world. The realization was not all-of-a-sudden. I hardly even felt surprised (which in itself is surprising). I stared a small angle upwards at the sky, where a number of modified Boeing passenger jets were doing loopdy-loops in the air. I thought to myself that they were flying too low (20 feet above the ground at the bottom of their loop) to not crash, and sure enough, one by one, each jet crashed in a roar of heat and debris. I began to float down the street, but I blinked long enough for the black behind my eyelids to ring with the "time to wake up" feeling that often accompanies the end of a dream. I was cursing inside my head. If I opened my eyes I'd be looking at the ceiling of my bedroom, awake and sour. So I concentrated. I was aware of my real body and managed to descend back into the dream of another world. Successful DEILD.
What I was looking at now was a vast landscape of desert, ridden with dunes and rocky hills. Nearby I spotted a military complex. It was actually hidden behind a lot of the terrain, but I knew what was there. This was my world. I floated over casually but with purpose, probably a decent 30 feet above ground, when a warning sounded inside my head. I still felt the overwhelming calm, but there before me sat large mechanical beetles all over the rocks to my left and right, their eyes a number of glossy black lenses. Their shells were a metallic red, almost sparkly, and a few began to rustle as if they'd woken from some wretched slumber that machines should be capable of taking. There was that conscious, malevolent feeling again. But still calm inside my head.
I was reminded of my odd gift with fire, the element I thought I otherwise had no connection to, and decided to give one of my ideas a real test. With almost no effort at all huge walls of flames gushed forth from the cave openings in the rock, weaving through the cracks and up onto the perches of the mechanical sentries. They fried and chittered their digital screams shortly before falling to pieces. I did this methodically, floating upwards and around the mountain (it was a mountain now, still in the desert). Fire, fire, fire, until I left the place a smoldering ruin. I shot none of it from my hands. None of these comic book shenanigans. I was willing my fire into place wherever it needed to be, outside of myself, and again with virtually no trying on my part. The fire wanted to get out and be. "Be", in this case, is equivalent to incinerate. The conflagration was wonderful every time, billowing orange whipping ever upwards at the sky as its heat destroyed the miniature manifested nightmares and split boulders into shards.
My fire is alive, and it is me.
Oh wow, cool dream invader! Why more people don't comment on this is beyond me.
"This was my world" I love that moment in a lucid dream where you realize that everything you see you have created, you have complete control and complete freedom.
Thanks Kraftwerk! And yes, the revelation is always pleasing, though much more so after a dry streak.
Last night (or this morning actually) had two dreams that were nothing short of phenomenal. Not going to share all of the details or the way the stories played out (the dreams were long), as that wasn't the most important part, but the worlds themselves were so different and out there.. I want to go back. I'm glad I slept in later than I've ever done. So glad.
The first dream was a copy of a local familiar place, and the sky was ever in a state of dusk, a deep grey-blue. There was someone around my age here I got along with really well. She had dark curls, a hooked nose and an accent. Said she was Czech. There was a lot of talking, joke making. A key element in this dream is that later on, some ways down the 101-w freeway, my red eye appeared in the sky, huge and with the eye peering downward over the land. I got the feeling here that I was a bad guy, all of a sudden, but I felt disconnected from the eye, as if we were separate entities. The red eye eventually succumbs to some other force and the 2d image rolls up into a 3d cocoon kind of shape, and I could still see the black eyeball rolling in its socket as it fell into the Earth (and it did fall right into the Earth, with no trace left behind). I think the freeway breaks here, or traffic slows. There are a lot of people I know here on some mass bus-like vehicle. Irrelevant. Anyways, later again, many people in a room. The light is thick and warm, from old incandescent bulbs. Everyone here has a sense of purpose about them. Some appear to be malevolent, others the general 'good guys', but they all appear to be working together. I am among them. There is a being that appears who begins to erase some of the key "bad" characters. They were his servants, and illusions. He claimed to be a god. Someone tried to trap him behind a specialized metamaterial that was supposed to prevent 'phasing', but this creature feigned surprise and then stepped right through anyways. His skin was a pearl coloured metallic, and he had no face. I got the feeling I was a lesser being here, and I asked him where he came from, since he was no god. I asked him again who made him. He responded, but the translation is strange. Something like, "from the aspect of hawk," or something along those lines.
----
The other dream took place on an island that was supposed to have been shaped by natural forces, but looked like something out of Super Mario World for the SNES. The land masses rose up in columns and the tops were smoothed over at the edges and flattened inwards. There was a human military base here. Or a military academy of sorts. The building I ended up in was beautiful, with red brick walls and tall windows that let in yet more golden sunlight, and high ceilings supported by the kind of arches one might find in a cathedral. There was another woman here who had struck up a conversation out of the blue. Short blonde hair, about my height, a serious but conversational attitude. She was a jet pilot. Only relevant because she comes up later in the dream when I'm on the base illegally with others and her jet undocks from a hangar, missiles primed and guns at the ready, with orders to kill. But she'd never know I was among them. Anyways, I live. Before all of those events transpire I also meet with another race of creatures that live at the bottom of the plateaus, on the shore. They are humanoid and taller (maybe 8 feet), with red skin and scales. They are under the impression that they are superior to human beings, but aren't aware of the fact that the technology given them by us was being used to benefit the military base up top. I see massive water recycling systems and communications towers down here that have designs I've never seen in the waking world.
Even later, and I think this is in the same dream, I end up at the base ready to cause more trouble. I'm standing with my cohorts a few hundred yards' distance from one of the academy buildings, and in my hand I hold a wand with great power. I fire a bolt from the end towards the building to test its range and power, and the bolt explodes into a shower of colorful sparks just feet from the flag raised above the grounds. The feeling of using magic here was great. It was night now, the stars overhead and breeze cool and with the smell of the ocean on it. I raise the wand over my head and whirl it in what felt intuitive at the time so that when I opened my mouth to yell it came out in tones so low that it sounded very much like the noise that the War of the Worlds tripods made in the movie. In fact, that was the noise I was going for, a sort of psychological warfare thing to begin the assault. We weren't there to kill anyone. We needed to see someone who was making themself inaccessible to us. But again this deviates from the true wonder of the dream and the world that this was, but God, words will never do it justice. I can't ever explain the mood of these places, because they are moods I've never before felt.
----
In some other dream there's a segment in which I'm working on a flying drone with a saw blade on the bottom. I think of revising it to use a gun barrel. I'm in a city, in front of awesome architecture. I could draw it, not sure how to explain.
The past two nights have yielded interesting dreams, more or less likely due to the fact that I've begun to sleep earlier and get better sleep. The dream I had the night before last I'll keep to myself. Do you ever experience those unique modes of existence in some other dimension that it almost feels better to keep it secret? Like a treasured piece of information. It was on that night, I'm pretty sure, that I had written in my journal that I am alone, and that you are alone, and that everyone is alone, and there was something in that idea that made me really happy. I was listening to music in the dark and dancing by myself, writing down one liners and short paragraphs whenever I felt the inspiration come. It's good to have something that only you are aware of. At least, that's the way I feel, comfortable in my by-myself-ness. And at the same time no person is truly alone. Everything is connected, and every one thing influences every other thing. But those private thoughts and feelings.. They can be pleasant in their own way. And they are.
-
The second dream, the one from last night, was a different story. It was another one of those that coalesced into a nightmare setting over time. Nothing changes physically, and even with a brilliant sun above I began to feel like I was sharing the space with another mind. After running into my fair share of foul mouthed, negative people (some crazy, it seemed) I ended up in a room walled with old wooden panels and linoleum floors. There was a desk of darkened wood close to a window on the far end, and on that sat a clock with multiple displays for rows of digits that shone in red. It was upon messing with the digital clock that the other presence began to enter, and the clock displays all buzzed with 8's that vibrated briefly as if to deny my attempt to alter the settings. I tried again, and the fully lit digits buzzed as before. The presence grew stronger. I thought to myself that I might be dreaming due to the odd behaviour of the clock, and immediately thought back in response that the idea was ridiculous. This place was real. Nevertheless I plugged my nose and was able to breathe effortlessly. I was in shock.
The presence remained, as happens to be the case in this particular brand of dream. I knew I wanted to be on my way, and again hadn't had the benefit of experiencing a vivid lucid in a while. Bad sleep does that, you know. So I flew through the glass window like a ghost and over the town that bore a strong semblance to London, England. At around two hundreds yards from the fifth story that I flew from, I began to feel the other mind work against me as I slowed in midair and got dragged back towards the room. Alarms were screaming in my head. I decided to work with the force and flew right back through the building to the other side, but the other entity that remained invisible to me (and all around me) was going to tug me right back. I focused as best I could and tried to "fall sideways" through the air, as opposed to regular flying. I was tumbling erratically and had little sense of which way was up and down for a while, but I knew that I was getting progressively further from whatever haunted that tower (or this entire world). As my orientation in the air stabilized I remained in a southward drift. I was over the ocean now, and dotted below me were hundreds of islands with large stone battlements and fortifications being fired upon by large, modern warships. I could hear the thunder of the cannons and rat-tat-tat of the shore guns firing back. The vividness of the naval battle was striking. This world was torn in war and reeked of negativity.
I kept adrift for awhile.
After waking I was still aware of the other mind watching my own. I was aware of it, and it of me.
It's puzzling. Does the presence exist as a fragmented part of my own mind, or do I unintentionally walk into other worlds with their own slew of dark deities? The "other" in these kinds of dreams do have a locality in that they exist in a part of the space and not all of it, but they also occupy a lot of the space at the location they exist at. This means that if one is to approach me and get close enough, it surrounds me and feels very much as if it's looking at me from all sides.
After seeing a thread on psychokinesis yesterday and reading through MementoMori's last response in the thread, I had an idea to try something that had little to do with psychokinesis and more to do with dreaming. It first occurred to me that if someone should want to move an object with their mind, they have to first believe that the mind can influence and connect with physical things. So why not get very familiar with one object and practice on that? Maybe some level of intimacy with that which is to be moved would aid the mover. It would probably be preferable that the object is unique and not common so that it stands out in the mind of whoever wants to move it, too. So, I did this by picking up a live round from my rifle. It measures 7.62 centimeters long, a good fit considering I seldom ever see ammunition and that my item was small enough to be strung on a necklace (portable). As I said though, what occurred was more dream oriented. I put the round under my pillow for the night and slept, thinking that maybe sleeping on it would do something in terms of "tuning" it to me (I really don't know, so let's see how things work out in the future).
What's the significance of that? Well...
Last night I dreamt of searching for a hidden treasure under the ground. I was moving through a large network of dry, dirt-ridden caves with a small party of 3. It was one of these other members' ideas to go looking for it, not my own, and after having come upon the end of the map we dug out a chest that was stacked with many other like chests. But there was nothing in any of them.. Instead they formed a wall, and beyond the wall was a clean, dark blue room that smelled cold and dank. The place was made of an azure colored stone. My group and I ventured through another passage in this room and, lo and behold, we came out on some complex above ground that swarmed with many armed men. All of them were armed with machine guns. [* Important thing to note, the last time I had a dream with any kind of firearm in it was well over 3 years ago, and it was only a small pistol that someone else chose to shoot me with... Much to their regret *]. It's difficult to understand how this happened, but I died twice and was back a third time (from gunfire, obviously). These men weren't senseless drones, each had a personality and the fierceness that made them look more like hired mercenaries than guards. Anyways, third time around I recall having been angry myself, and fuel by my emotions I used a heavy chair made of metal next to me as a projectile and launched it at one of their heads before they'd noticed me. I relieved the man of his weapon and went nuts (It's best to get familiarized with the phrase: What goes around comes around). I loaded the auto with a clip that had small rounds and made the firing of the gun too quick and strained. Fading.. Fading...
I woke up and felt the bullet under my pillow. That was a good deal more shooting than I had anticipated, being that I had anticipated none to begin with.
I'm not typically one for violent behavior, though I suppose getting shot at and killed twice kind of changes things. In any case, rifle bullet >> dreams about guns. The intention was not to use it as an aid for dreams when I had put it under my pillow in the first place, but I like the concept. Next time I'll consider putting something a little more friendly under the pillow. In the meantime I'm going to string this thing on a necklace and be on my way.
Will reply when keybord works :) ...really awesome thread though dunnohow I havemissed it ssso far
I like the idea of influencing your dreams with objects like that...even though I realize that wasn't your intention. It would make for an interesting experiment I think, to put something new under your pillow each night and keep a record of how often it manifests in your dreams.
I noticed a connection between this dream and your previous dream with the naval battle where you could hear the guns firing and such. Just thought I would point that out in case you overlooked or forgot about it...but you may intentionally be omitting it because it does not deal with a firearm specifically? For me personally I would categorize it all under "war, guns, battles, bullets, firearms" lol all inclusive, since I rarely dream of such things. But I guess for someone who actually owns a gun it's probably quite different. :P Anyways, that is pretty cool that you had a dream about using a firearm after putting the bullet under your pillow. I'm anxious to see what other things you might try out! :DQuote:
[* Important thing to note, the last time I had a dream with any kind of firearm in it was well over 3 years ago, and it was only a small pistol that someone else chose to shoot me with... Much to their regret *]
This is really intense. I've read through several of your dreams here and I'd love to talk to you about them more in depth. Have you considered the possibility of astral projection or even remote viewing? These do not seem like normal dreams to me, and you even say that you feel strongly that these places and these presences are real. Well, I think you're right, and I might have some insight into what could be going on. Let me know if youd want to meet up in IRC later! I'll be home from class around 8pm EST.Quote:
The presence remained, as happens to be the case in this particular brand of dream. I knew I wanted to be on my way, and again hadn't had the benefit of experiencing a vivid lucid in a while. Bad sleep does that, you know. So I flew through the glass window like a ghost and over the town that bore a strong semblance to London, England. At around two hundreds yards from the fifth story that I flew from, I began to feel the other mind work against me as I slowed in midair and got dragged back towards the room. Alarms were screaming in my head. I decided to work with the force and flew right back through the building to the other side, but the other entity that remained invisible to me (and all around me) was going to tug me right back. I focused as best I could and tried to "fall sideways" through the air, as opposed to regular flying. I was tumbling erratically and had little sense of which way was up and down for a while, but I knew that I was getting progressively further from whatever haunted that tower (or this entire world). As my orientation in the air stabilized I remained in a southward drift. I was over the ocean now, and dotted below me were hundreds of islands with large stone battlements and fortifications being fired upon by large, modern warships. I could hear the thunder of the cannons and rat-tat-tat of the shore guns firing back. The vividness of the naval battle was striking. This world was torn in war and reeked of negativity.
I kept adrift for awhile.
After waking I was still aware of the other mind watching my own. I was aware of it, and it of me.
It's puzzling. Does the presence exist as a fragmented part of my own mind, or do I unintentionally walk into other worlds with their own slew of dark deities? The "other" in these kinds of dreams do have a locality in that they exist in a part of the space and not all of it, but they also occupy a lot of the space at the location they exist at. This means that if one is to approach me and get close enough, it surrounds me and feels very much as if it's looking at me from all sides.
I really enjoyed reading that. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Invader
For me, what you describe as the dream love would be akin to a Soulmate. I think that's what a Soulmate IS. Pure, uninfatuated, true love. It's really the only sort of love I seek...and I, like you, have also said that it would never happen for me. But I can still hope...
Very interesting dream. Have you had anymore dreams like this afterwards?Quote:
Originally Posted by Invader
I have to say that your DJ while lacks pictures is very organized and more than makes up with your amazing descriptions. I would say that you are pretty talented with your writing and I like your writing style. I read all your dreams in one sitting and found many of them interesting as well. Not sure how I missed this DJ either :P That love dream you recently had, I've heard of people having similar experiences. Is it possible you meet something like your subconscious which is why you felt a strong attraction to her? Just a guess though. I am very intrigued by the dreams where you felt a presence, mainly that vehicle that ate those humanoids, the clock dream where you were pulled back and I think there was another one or two more. I am thinking along the same lines as Aquanina with the whole astral projection and remote viewing. I'm interested in joining your conversation if possible, unless it's a private one of course :)
Hrmm, you could be right about that. I suppose I drew the line between the fact that in one dream the violence was directed at me, and in the other I was observing someone elses conflict from afar. Curious though. And I don't group guns as being separate from war, or in a category of their own from such things. Upon putting the bullet under my pillow in the first place I thought it was still an odd choice, being that it's purpose is first and foremost to kill something. For some reason however it is viewed as being different from, say, an arrow. Arrows have a kind of spiritual symbolism all on their own. The bullet instead represents a more industrialized and cold, detached form of hunting/killing.Quote:
Originally Posted by Aquanina
Aaaanyways, that's why I asked you about the subject of crystals. I can think of some other things to try, but they don't seem significant enough.. I'll keep searching.
Likewise. Those dreams kind of kill the idea of regular relationships ("regular" is such a horrible word) for me. But there's likely someone out there who dreams similar dreams and so on so that being around them feels almost supernatural. I think that element is the crux of "dream-intensity" feelings in real life. Likewise the only kind of fear that could feel the same would be that of something not of this world.Quote:
Originally Posted by Aquanina
Looks like I was a bit late in responding (I'm not used to checking back in on my DJ so soon, see). But yes, I'd hear what you have to say. We can schedule another time, soon.Quote:
Originally Posted by Aquanina
Thanks for the good words. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by BigFan
I haven't had a dream like the spacecraft one since. As for the attraction thing, I'm still short on an explanation. The attraction is never physical. It's like knowing someone and adventuring through many different lives with them, like being connected with them on some core level. Like Nina said, soulmate. :whyme:
Don't see why you shouldn't join. Unfortunately my response here is late, but as I said earlier, perhaps we should hammer out another time.
[edit] Almost forgot:
http://img13.imageshack.us/img13/1613/bulletchain.jpg
OMG epic. Mind if I use your avatar?? You should really start a club.
Ha ha ha.Quote:
Originally Posted by timbowman1
Mostly, I want to stop being a machine. I want my soul back.
Past nights have been more densely populated with war-themed dreams. No fighting. I am carrying a gun slung over my back, or on board a warship. I love ships. We were testing explosives that were like miniaturized versions of nuclear weapons in the middle of open ocean. One dream on land involved another thinking thing, malevolent, though it didn't see me. It inhabited an abandoned house on the second floor, where through a wall was a hole drilled. It peered out from time to time with a bright crimson eye. I could hear it in my mind, I want to scream. It didn't see me. Waking up from the dream left a residue of the feeling. I think a nightmare can be strong enough that a person can commit suicide. I think the fear can be magnified to the point that one will go insane.
Mostly I don't know anything. Mostly I'm just blank. Mostly I want my soul back.