Counting, Swimming and Sexual Palpation

Date: 29/03/2021
Bedtime: 3.30am
Awakening: 7.15am
Return to bed: 8am
Method: indirect
Awakening: 11am
Attempt: successful
Phase: counting, swimming, sexual palpation
Duration: 3 minutes 35 seconds (stopwatch)
Realism: quickly reaching 100% with deepening
Experiment Count: 90 'seconds'

WAKING STATE

I wake up in the morning with vague dream impressions of being at a Michael Raduga seminar. I use the loo and review Project Elijah's task of counting in the phase before returning to bed to fall asleep with an intention to catch a natural awakening.

PHASE STATE

Upon waking up without movement, I get up from the bed to stand in a dim and poorly lit bedroom. (Realism: 35%) Vision is hazy and the brightest source of light seems to come from where the balcony door should be. I strenuously rub my hands together—feeling an emergent friction and warmth—until I see them with great clarity before beginning my count out loud. I walk around the bed, noticing that the lampshade on the bedside cabinet radiates a weak, orange light. The object closely resembles the one in the real world and touching it feels as I would expect it to feel. (Realism: 100%) As I move towards the curtains and a partially visible balcony door, I become aware of the muffled sound of my voice and try to raise it as I count. I pass through the curtains with some resistance and leap from the balcony, forming a parabolic trajectory that lands me on tarmac about fifty feet away from the house.

I appear to be on the main road, in a vibrant, alternate neighbourhood which gives me the impression of being a virtual amalgam of where I currently live and where I used to live as a prepubescent child. I feel slightly nostalgic. The sky is defined by a rosy dawn with a beauteous, surreal blend of orange and blue strokes—an exceptional sight which can barely be captured with words alone. I believe I had been counting slightly faster than the speed of seconds since the start of this experience, so at this point I slow down a little but continue numerically onwards near the thirties while rubbing hands as a background sensation. I glance back at where my house should be and what I see is a far more simplistic structure that is radically different to what would be found in the real world; contrary to the architecture in waking life, it is a single beige appartment block with no balconies (surprisingly) and very few windows—despite standing taller, albeit narrower, than the real residence—and its centre is made of rectangular glass panels vertically dissecting the building.

I feel exhilarated to be in a deep phase, surrounded by a colourful and realistic town under strong twilight. I start running down the main road, with a tendency to accelerate my counting exercise, at times feeling like a child wanting to reach the highest number before it's over to then remind myself to not get overly excited. The environment gradually becomes more picturesque and less urban, making me want to take flight. I glide over roofs and treetops with ease, continuing the count as I make my way towards a horizon defined by a much brighter blue sky and the hint of a shimmering sea. I land on a grassy knoll by a pebble beach and behold mild seawaves hitting the shallow shore. As I run down the knoll to reach the water, I realise I'm on a collision course with a barbed wire fence, but I carry on towards it, blurting out numbers even louder once my body hits the wires to encounter some resistance. I stubbornly persevere, stretching the fence like a bunch of elastic bands until it finally gives way by going through me. Having reached shallow water, I hear myself sploshing all the way to a deeper end. I feel wet but not cold (it's just right), and as the refreshing waves hit my chest, I spread my arms and deliberately levitate to about a hundred feet above sea level in order to subsequently take a massive dive. Whilst rising in the air, I'm counting slower than normal seconds and trying to adjust to something more temporally realistic, but it's hard to ascertain the right pace.

The plunge back to the sea temporarily interrupts the count, but I calmly resume as I experience underwater turbulence. I rise to the surface to undulate like a dolphin between sea and air as oncoming waves grow and become more challenging. The sea appears to partially bend to my will as waterspouts encircle me for a few seconds before giving way to desired chaos. The counting is undoubtedly retarded as I jubilantly dance with surroundings entirely dominated by turbulent seawater. Once again, I take flight towards a calm blue sky—increasing the speed of the count—and descend on shallower waters, where I start sploshing towards the beach, occasionally using my hands to scoop up pebbles and shells from the ground beneath short, oncoming seawaves. These marine objects feel realistically solid to the touch apart from glimmering under sunlight. I dropped them all in the water before reaching dry land. Gazing inland, I spot people milling about pale buildings resembling a college campus garden square, which piques my interest as well as my sex drive. I get briefly sidetracked by the idea of having sex with a female character in the phase, which causes a considerable interval of counting measurable by a few seconds, whereby translocation to the garden square occurs and I run into a canteen nearby looking for a single woman amidst ostensibly male students.

I get a grip and resume the count as I exit the canteen to access other rooms within the building. I'm about to reach the eighties—possibly counting faster than I should—as I run along a corridor displaying rows of identical doors on either side, eagerly hoping to run into the opposite sex. Ahead of me, a door opens and a seductive, intellectual woman holding a dark folder, appears. She has straight, shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses; she sports a cream-coloured waistcoat and knee-length skirt; her silky white top is partially unbuttoned and her tall figure somehow implies that she's on high heels. She also looks like a teacher to me. We immediately embrace and start ripping clothes off our bodies to engage in upright, penetrative sex. The sensations of having sex feel absolutely real and the rhythm of the intercourse helps me to slow down the count to something closer to—I believe—real seconds, as I blurt out the numbers in loud moans of pleasure (the only way I could maintain count during this emotionally charged episode). I reach orgasm and end up pushing the astonished character to the ground before covering her with large amounts of semen, counting the last few seconds with each eruption as I stimulate an incredibly large phallus in slow motion. The environment fades and I wake up in bed thinking of 'ninety'.

WAKING STATE

I jot down the experience, which thankfully seemed to last a long time, but I feel confused by the fact that I only counted 90 'seconds' when the phase lasted over 3.5 minutes according to the stopwatch. If it were possible to take a real clock to the phase, the number of seconds it would have accurately registered would be 215. I understand that most of the time I was probably off the mark in counting seconds—and there was a 'sizable' gap during the experiment—but never expected to be off by about 125. Nevertheless, it seemed to help in maintaining the phase state. Apologies for the explicitly graphic description towards the end!