(I almost have to apologize that some of my journal entries turn out so long, but "thanks," to those of you who actually enjoy reading them. )

01/25/2007

Just had another good one.
With the holidays over, I’ve recently started hitting the gym pretty hard, again. I’ve noticed that when I’ve been good to my body (and my mind, seeing as how I’ve cut back on the weekday smoking) I get more lucids. Seems like common sense, I know, but I feel it’s worth noting (and will maybe be a helpful hint for anyone trying to raise their frequency).

Dream One
”Invincible”
So anyway, this dream started in someone’s garage. I was a disembodied spectator, at first, and saw that my mom had stolen some money from the Wrong People. She had dug a hole in the ground, in the garage (which was weird, because the ground is concrete and she was only using a shovel) and was burying the money in it. She heard some people coming, and the garage door was opening so, impossibly quick, she buries herself in the hole, along with the money and a shotgun, in case she needed to surprise her pursuers. When the garage opened, a bunch of cars and a school bus came up into the driveway. This is when the dream switched to first person, and my recall skips ahead a little bit.

There was now a birthday party going on where me, a few other kids’ parents and a bunch of kids were playing party games in the garage (which explained the school bus). Somehow, I knew something about the money and that the amount that mom had buried herself with was only a portion of it. Another car slowly pulls up into the driveway and a bunch of mobster looking guys step out with their guns drawn. They walk up into the garage and start swinging their guns around at everyone, asking about their money. Of course no one else knew what they were talking about.
I, pretty sure there was about to be a bloodbath, finally spoke up. I took one of the men in the house and grabbed a bag full of cash, and gave it to him. As we were walking back to the garage I said something like, “Ok you’ve got your money. You’re going to let us go, right? These are just kids.” The guy was like “I can’t do that. You’re all witnesses.”
They stood somewhat in the center of our crowd as we made a sort of ring around them, everyone too afraid to run away. Even the children were cringing and sobbing. Many of us, every time a gun barrel would aim in our direction, would discretely try to position ourselves behind the person standing next to us. (which reminds me of a scene in a dream I had a while back, I just can’t remember which one) I forgot how, but one of the girls was able to talk the lead guy into letting her take the smallest child inside. Then, somehow, things turned around, and the guys decided not to kill us. They were going to take us with them and hold us hostage. I dunno if I can’t remember why they decided this, or if there was just never a reason given.

Next thing I knew, though, we were driving down the highway in the school bus. I was sitting in the very back seat and the mob car was behind us. I was nervous as hell, sitting by the window, because I remembered (though I don’t really remember him saying it) that the lead guy had told us that, should we try anything funny, they’d open fire into the back of the bus, and I knew I was the first person that would be hit.
After driving for a while, the dream shifted again (I hate that I don’t know whether my dreams actually skip, or there are just gaps in my recall. That seriously bothers the shit out of me) and we, in the bus, were sitting outside of this club. Everything was dead silent and I was still in the back, absolutely fuming mad about there being nothing any of us could do to get us out of the situation we were in. It was in having this moment to myself, to think, that I realized that all of this was a dream. I didn’t even do any reality checks to confirm it (I am glad that I’m becoming more familiar with just knowing when I’m dreaming, by the feeling itself, and not having to confirm it). I don’t even think I looked at my hands to stabilize the dream, because it was already vivid enough, and I only had one thing on my mind: I was pissed at having been completely humiliated by these DCs.

I stood up and just walked off the bus. I know there was a guy that was outside guarding us, but I don’t remember how exactly I got past him. I was soon barging into the club, like I was the terminator, eyes focused and scanning around for the rest of these men. The décor was completely unfamiliar, as far as I know, but was dominated by soft purple and gold lights. I saw the first guy in the hallway and, before he could do anything, I grabbed him by the face and slammed him back against the wall. He went down without much of a fight. Turning the corner, I came to the main room, two men suddenly standing up as soon as they saw me, drawing their guns. I turned my attention to the man on my left and he shot first. I reached up and caught his bullet in mid-air. I could actually feel it, like an ant bite, when it hit my palm. I dropped the bullet and he shot again. I caught the bullet and slung my arm back at him, hitting him in the chest with his own bullet. I continued walking (which I hadn’t stopped doing since I came in the room) toward the man a few yards in front of me. People around the club were ducking for cover from the gunshots and flattening themselves against the walls, away from us. The man fired once or twice and I caught the bullet(s).
Then, one of the kids from the bus came into the club. I stopped and looked back at the kid, (whose position was at about 5 o’clock, in relation to where I was now standing) then looked back at the guy with the gun. I taunted him by saying something like “Hey look, it’s one of your hostages. If you gotta go, might as well take somebody with you, right?” The guy, not really knowing what to do, whipped his gun over at the kid and pulled the trigger. I dove to the side, covering a good five yards and catching the bullet before it hit. The man yelled out something like “You monster!!” and started shooting at me repeatedly, as I continued walking toward him, catching and swatting away every bullet that came in my direction. I stopped right in front of him and put my hands down, and decided to give him a free shot. He put the barrel about three inches away from my forehead and pulled the trigger.
It felt like someone flicked me in the forehead with their finger. LOL.
Oh, to see the look on that guy’s face. Rofl.
I reached out and grabbed him by the collar, spun around and threw him behind me, straight out the front door of the club, which was now, mysteriously, directly behind me, instead of around the corner like it had been.
I walked back outside the club to look for him and, as soon as I stepped out the door, I turned to the side and saw a car heading straight for me. It was him, of course. I planted my feet and pushed forward, completely smashing in the front of his car and bringing him to a stop. Then, for good measure, I ripped open his hood and smashed my palm down through his air filter, flattening the top half of his engine. When I walked around the front of his car, he had already gotten out and was running away from me like a lil punk, heading (for some reason) toward a lake that was a good 100 yards away, and he had a damn good head start. I tried a super-speed run to catch up with him, by focusing on the area a few feet in front of him and sprinting toward it. I was moving really fast, but not really The Flash fast, as he jumped into the lake and started swimming his little heart out. Lol.
So, being a good 50ft or so away from the water, I jumped into the air and levitated over him, dropping down into the water right in front of him and grabbing him by the shirt. The water was only waist deep so, at first, I started guiding him out of the lake on his feet but, then, just to show-off a little more (why is showing off to DC’s so much fun, knowing they aren’t real? Haha) I said “And just to show you what you were up against…” then I flew up out of the water and directly toward the tree I had passed under while running after him. I dragged him through the tree, the branches smacking and scratching against his face, while I didn’t even feel them. Finally, being as high as the tree itself, after coming out the other side, I slung the guy down toward his own car so hard that his body smashed up the back end just as much as the front had been.

I landed in the parking lot and all the kids and parents and club-goers that had been outside watching started cheering and giving me props. Some time during the aftermath, I lost lucidity, the cops showed up, the bad guys were arrested, and all was right with the world.