Illyria's Dream Journal. ;D

illyria's dream journal ,
PEOPLE THINK DREAMS AREN'T REAL JUST BECAUSE THEY AREN'T
MADE OF MATTER, OF PARTICLES. DREAMS ARE REAL. BUT THEY
ARE MADE OF VIEWPOINTS, OF IMAGES, OF MEMORIES AND PUNS
AND LOST HOPES. -- NEIL GAIMAN

http://www.logoi.com/pastimages/img/...nderland_2.jpg


Ever since I joined this site it seems my dreams have started to become boring. I never was very good at LDing
-- I would occasionally realize I was dreaming and then forget just as quickly -- but hopefully I'll be able to learn.
Comments are welcome. ;D

POST OF WORTHLESSNESS

Please continue to saunter downwards. /curtsies

CAROUSEL

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

It was cloudy. I must have been at a small theme park or a street circus because the first thing I saw was a giant carousel. It's base was a giant, cube-shaped frosted mirror and the animals on the carousel were painted like the only one I've ever seen.

My parents and I were here on vacation. My mom was standing right next to me, staring at the carousel. "Did you bring Phoebe's (our cat) litterbox?" I asked her, assuming that if we ever did go on vacation she would bring the cat. "Nope," she said. "What about her food?" "Nope." I vaguely thought of why she would neglect to do these things, a hint of something that was off. I didn't catch it.

Then the scene changed, or I simply forgot the events that lead up to it. I was in a bike shop. Bikes hung from the ceiling in rows, on the ground in rows, even pushed up against the sides. Someone shot at me with a bow, its arrow whizzing past me and embedding itself into the tire of a bike in front of me. "It's fake," I muttered as I pulled it out, the arrowhead bright white white and the rest of the arrow only about an inch or two long.

This was another dream entirely. A false awakening. I was in a more rural environment, in a house that wasn't my own but still felt comfortable. I must have been out in the country. I had woken up and my dream-dad (who looked like a cowboy with a mustache and one of those hats) handed me my red moleskine dream journal. "Write it all down," he told me. I proceeded to write down the entire dream I just had but filled with much more detail. I remember getting severely confused when writing it, starting the next page by writing at the very bottom of it. "That's not right," I would mutter to myself, crossing it out and starting at the top. I even wrote the date as "10 FEBRUARY 2010 25". ... Twenty-five what? I seemed to realize that this was weird because I crossed it out, and for the entry above that. I was then writing about a boy and a father who didn't love him. Something spurred this thought, but I don't remember what. Then I turned the page only to see words already typed in on the pages, as if done by a typewriter. There were pictures of a girl embedded in the text. She must have been no more than ten or eleven years old. She had short mousy brown hair and big brown childish eyes. In some of the pictures she was laughing and in others she was making faces. There were other pictures of the scenery -- the house in which I lived in, some tumbleweed, elderly ladies I felt that I was supposed to know. The writing itself though was continuing the story that I wrote about the boy and his father.

Needless to say I was very upset when I woke up to discover that I had already written my entire dream down... in a dream.

GREEN EYES AND "VAMPYRES"

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

DREAM ONE: It started with a dog. A Bernese mountain dog, all black with a white chest. Seemingly normal except for one quirk: he was blind. And instead of milky light blue eyes, his were a dirty, milky moss green. From fragments of the dream I can barely remember, once upon a time he was human. Someone close to him had betrayed him -- pushed him out of a window, actually. His body had died but his soul strived for revenge.

DREAM TWO: I was a vampyre. I'm only spelling it that ridiculous way because I had just read Marked by P.C. Cast (which sucked by the way, don't waste your time) and I knew I was that specific kind of vampire. More specifically my name was Zoey Redbird, despite not looking a thing like her. I simply knew I was her. I was talking to an elderly woman, her hair thin and white. She was also a vampyre and doubted my leadership abilities to take over, well, whatever I was taking over.

I've been having a slew of lame dreams lately. How disappointing.