Din
Member

Between Sleeping and Waking: Dream Diary of the Man Who Doesn't Make Sense.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011:

Day 6: Targets and the Grecian Palace.

I had been outside the gas station in part of Arizona. The air was arid, and I had been with three friends (two outside with me, one in a car, and all three had been based on real-life people) pondering just how I would get myself back home. I had come to this field of sand to test a route to a college prior to my going there on a class trip. That was when I had suddenly realized that I had been dreaming. Just as this realization came to me, I began to run over the environment with my hands, so as to cement lucidity. Then, facing my two DCs who were with me, I figured, "why not?" That was when I had begun to attack my poor friends with my fists. Obviously, they hadn't liked that too much, and they quickly walked off into the emptiness of the desert. Just as they did so, I had gotten the sudden urge to perform an energy beam attack. So, I cupped my hands and said the immortal and infamous words...
"Kamehame..."
At this point, a small, glowing, bluish-white ball of energy had formed in my hands.
"...ha!"
Then, I shot a small slow-moving blast of energy out of my palms. It missed horribly, resulting in one of the fleeing DCs giving me a look of disproval. I had remembered that she had been a Dragonball Z fan in waking life. When the DCs had finished walking off, I got in the car with the third DC. He proposed that we head off to the grocery store, my lucidity hanging by a thread. We did so, and, luckily for me, the lucidity had intertwined itself within the dream's plot. I had resolved that I would call my mother and tell her not to worry - for I would be home after I awoke.
Upon reaching the grocery store, I noticed that the structure was surprisingly elaborate. Unlike your typical store, grass and stone fountains had aligned the floors where merchandise shelves were held. The textures and the shelves had effectively formed a maze of Grecian proportions. I never did get a chance to explore the place too deeply, however. I soon awoke in my bed.

Duration: Roughly five minutes.
Level of Lucidity: Low.

Between Sleeping and Waking: Dream Diary of the Man Who Doesn't Make Sense.

Sunday, August 7, 2011:

Day 5: All the Time in the World.

(This occurred in the same night and dream as Day 4: The Corridor that Never Existed.)
Everyone, including my once-companion, had been leaving the household. I had been in the bathroom, contemplating my situation. Then, out of curiosity, I had performed my reality check once more and confirmed that I had been dreaming. I looked around the bathroom. It was massive. Sunlight filtered in from the wooden door a few meters away, and there were towels, toilets, and showers aligning the walls.
The first thing that I had noticed was that I was cold, but I knew that rubbing my hands against my arms would not accomplish much due to the fact that I was dreaming, and the temperature took a toll on my physical body as opposed to my dream body. I quickly disregarded this.
I knew that I had to ground my lucidity, and I quickly rubbed my palms together and shouted "AWARENESS NOW!". The "awareness now" trick did seem to work to some extent and, satisfied at my lucidity, I had attempted to alter the environment. I then pushed my arms out and spun 'round and 'round, knowing that this action was likely to create a change in the environment. As I reached terminal speed, everything, including myself, had sped to a blur. After about ten seconds of spinning, I noticed that the scene grew gradually darker. When I stopped myself, I saw that the sun had set, the bathroom light had turned off, and night had struck. I had inadvertantly time traveled!
I moved through the dark palace of toiletry only to stumble upon a dream version of one of my friends, Emily, as I had been making my way to the door. She proceeded to barrage me with questions about life.
"What's the point of living? Why are you here? Why are you still living?"
There are times when you've got to ignore somebody, and, after my previous excursion with my unnamed "companion" earlier that night, I wasn't about to let somebody else nab my lucidity. I sped ahead and reached for the brass doorknob. As I did so, I remembered that I had the ability to summon others. I then made a suggestion to myself.
"When I open this door, [she] will be there".
As I opened it, I saw that my friend was, in fact, not there. It was then that a dark cloud had swallowed me, and I woke up.

Duration: Roughly three minutes.
Level of Lucidity: Medium.

Between Sleeping and Waking: Dream Diary of the Man Who Doesn't Make Sense.

Sunday, August 7, 2011:

Day 4: The Corridor that Never Existed.

I was looking about my classmate's house. She was hosting a party that had many of my friends in it, and we sat around enjoying the festivities. But, then, the moment came in which, while opening the door to my friend's basement, I suggested to myself that I might be dreaming. After this suggestion, I performed a reality check, and success! With my newfound awareness I stared into the open door that my previous self had opened. The corridor ahead was black and without light. Perfect for exploration! I gathered my wits and walked into the inky blackness as it consumed me, and darkness was all that the eye could see. I moved into it with confidence, and quickly found myself back in a seperate room of my friend's house. And, not only that. Apparently, I had met an acquaitance along the way!
"Do you know where you're going? You're lost, you know."
My companion hadn't only taken my nerves, but my lucidity as well. However, I would return later that night...

Duration: Roughly two minutes.
Level of Lucidity: Low.

Between Sleeping and Waking: Dream Diary of the Man Who Doesn't Make Sense.

Saturday, July 30, 2011.

Day 3: The Rounded Pit.

I was at the centre of a large, rounded, marble bowl. This bowl was not unlike those seen at skate parks. Unlike said bowls, however, this one had railing running about the pit's circumference. Dulled, dark, wooden, railing. I examined the strange railing for a time, prior to becoming aware of my body in bed. I pondered this anomaly for several minutes, before realizing that I was, in fact, dreaming (and my first lucid dream in a while, at that). Not only that, but my dream body had wished me to surrender my consciousness to my physical body. I was experiencing dual consciousness, and I knew that I would be awakening any second now. I gradually remembered that lucidity could be gained by making contact with dream objects. In my case, this was the railing around the bowl. I quickly ran over to the railing and ran my hands over it. I was amazed at the feeling of the dusty, rough railing as my hands made contact with it. Just as I did this, my body successfully reeled my consciousness back in.

Duration: Roughly thirty seconds.
Level of Lucidity: Low.

Between Sleeping and Waking: Dream Diary of the Man Who Doesn't Make Sense.

Monday, July 11, 2011:

Day 2: The Man on the Balcony.

I was in a massive dome, filled to the brim with people I had and hadn't known throughout the years. I was amazed at this meeting, for I hadn't anticipated to see these people again. Just as quickly, a thought came to me.

"I must be dreaming".

Then, quickly my perception of the scene changed. I was then aware that this room, these people, had all been bred from a single source - my mind. They were dream manifestations of my attitudes and personality, and I knew it. As I looked about the room in amazement, the folk had smiled at me. Yet, even with that realization, I was at a rather low level of lucidity. Though I knew I was dreaming, that still didn't stop my interactions toward others. I still thought I had a social reputation to maintain, in spite of knowing that I was dreaming.

In accordance to this, I had faintly whispered, so as not to disturb others, "Awareness now".

Obviously, not much had happened. I had then ignored this, moving outside with a few DC friends (whom I didn't know previously). We were on top of a large, steel, balcony. There were stairs directly to our right, and the dream characters had set off to use those. I, however, had opted for a different method of reaching the ground floor.

"Do you know what's more fun than using stairs?" I asked the two DCs.

"What?"

"Jumping off the balcony".

And then I quickly got up to the balcony and, in spite of feeling coldness in my veins, attempted to bring myself to jump directly off, knowing that I would land on the floor without harm. Upon getting up on the balcony, I felt nauseated. It wasn't necessarily the pain that concerned me, but the speed of the fall. This isn't specific to my dream. In waking life, I am terrified of many amusement park rides - particularly roller-coasters.

Come on! I prompted myself. Jump! You'll be alright.

I couldn't do it.

I then lost lucidity.