10/8
I went to bed at 0:30, after drinking a big glass of Pepsi (and a glass of water to neutralize that flavour left by the pepsi after a while). Stayed like half hour with the TV on, but without paying attention (I was listening to the last Therion album, again). Then, I turned the TV and the mp3 player off. Used Chest Technique, 10 minutes of that beach meditation and then I went to sleep focusing on the desert.
I woke up at 6:00. After recalling a dream and writing down it on my DJ, I went to the batroom. THen, I drank some water and went back to bed. Again, Chest technique to seal some random thoughts and I surrendered to the sleep focused on the desert.
I finally woke up at some hour and wrote down another dream.
10/9
Things seem to become hard on saturdays (I have to wake up at 7:30), so WBTB was not an option. I did the same that yesterday before sleeping. I woke up at 7:40 and wrote down a dream.
Dreams:
10/8 1: I am going back to my home with my mom. But, we enter to a house. A strange house, It is like a standalone Japanese empire, in the place occupied by a single house. We decided to stay there for a while (I don't remember why). A guy with a bicycle appears. He wants to know where to buy gatorade. We say to him that in the fuel station is quite cheap. He goes away riding his bicycle.
10/8 2: I am in my home. But all is like in the movie "Gladiator". Men fighting with fake weapons. I don't know why, but I take all the fake weapons (in a second, with telekinesis) and throw them to somewhere (then, all the weapons disappeared). My dad appears. Ovbiously, He wants to see me doing something helpful. But I don't wanna do anything today, so I run far. I was sneakung through the house for a while t oavoid him, but He appears in front of me. I woke up.
10/9: i am with my mom watching the brainwashing machine. We were watching this, but instead of discovering who is the guest, the goal was to discover the guest's job. The guest was a pale guy. Misterious. After a few questions, I got the answer. The guy works in a funeral house!
Dammit, my lucidity is lower than Gary Coleman's tallness.
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