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      08-30-2021, 02:18 AM
      LeaningKarst created a blog entry Renewal in The Fourth Factor
      Iím in a building that seems to be part of a university campus, heading for the top floor, which is where I have to go to retrieve my renewed...
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    Recent Entries

    Renewal

    by LeaningKarst on 08-30-2021 at 02:18 AM
    Iím in a building that seems to be part of a university campus, heading for the top floor, which is where I have to go to retrieve my renewed passport and some other visa documents. But as I look through the doorway, into the large, open room where I have to go, I see two knights on horseback riding around Ė a pair of enemies that seem to have spawned here. Theyíre wearing head-to-foot armor of a bronzey-gold color and carrying lances, and the horses are white.

    Iím reluctant to go in, as I have just defeated another pair of these guys Ė although those were a black and ghostly variety, and these ones will be even tougher and therefore even more of a nuisance. I just canít be bothered right now. And since Iím not in a particular hurry, I figure Iíll just come back for the papers later. I head back down, taking the stairs rather than the elevator, as it is inevitable that if I get on, they will too.

    As I descend, though, I hear people talking Ė but itís rather vague, more like a combination of thinking and of overhearing conversations. I hear people talking about how many people have been faking their passports, and when you open them up, theyíre empty on the inside. But mine is real Ė and actually, thatís something I shouldnít be taking for granted.

    Somehow, what I am hearing has changed my mind: I head back up again and walk into the room. Thereís only one of the knights now, and heís holding my papers. I walk up to him and grab them. Contrary to expectations, a fight does not commence, and so I take the papers to another part of the room to look through them. My renewed passport is there, and it already has an approved visa in it. This is something I applied for previously, which required going through quite a bit of red tape Ė entrance to a country that seems to be located somewhere in Central Asia.

    23.8.21
    Categories
    non-lucid

    The Returning Haddock

    by LeaningKarst on 08-04-2021 at 11:27 PM
    Iím in a classroom Ė itís unclear at what level Ė seated at a desk in a group of at least four desks pushed together, two rows facing each other. Iím writing a poem. It isnít for the class, though: class doesnít seem to be in session at the moment, and there isnít a teacher around.

    Iíve just finished the poem Ė the first draft, at least. All I can remember about its contents now is that it was entitled something like ďThe ReturnĒ or ďThe Returning,Ē and the first line was ďSomething has happened.Ē The guy sitting diagonal from me, who seems to be somebody I know, wants to see it. I tell him that first I have to make sure itís legible for people other than me, and after a minute of looking it over and making some lines clearer and darker, I hand it to him. (The other people in the group of desks seem to be paying attention, but in a passive way.)

    He reads it and says something to me that implies that he sees the ďsomethingĒ that happened as some negative event that hangs over the rest of the poem. I tell him that that reading works Ė but the poem is (sort of) about the Olympics. Itís not actually in the text, but itís not too deeply buried. Heís having trouble seeing it, so I tell him to imagine that Iíve titled it something like ďThe Olympic GamesĒ instead.

    He reads, and then, seemingly struck by some idea, he takes out a pen (I wrote with a pencil) and writes something on the paper. He thinks I ought to call it ďDas EntspannenĒ instead. He (correctly and unnecessarily) translates this as ďThe RelaxingĒ but then also claims (and this bit is pure dream logic) that itís also a subtle reference to haddock, whose migration routes recall the original titleís idea of returning.

    Our attention is then drawn to other events taking place in the room, and I wake up shortly afterwards.

    7.28.21
    Categories
    non-lucid

    Tea with the Dead

    by LeaningKarst on 07-15-2021 at 05:22 PM
    I am in what looks to be some kind of large home improvement store, having travelled here to meet up with some people. It is a very large store: towards the back, the aisles actually turn into streets, which is where I need to go. Iíve been this way enough times to where Iíve got the route memorized, and when I reach the signpost with a number of street signs, I take a left onto Montaigne Street.

    Montaigne street has a rather sleazy vibe, with a sort of over-the-top neon-over-historic-district aesthetic. But it seems completely confined to this particular street, and then itís back into plain downtown area. However, something is strange: the street Iím looking for doesnít seem to be here. This is an area full of little winding streets, so I look around for a bit to make sure I havenít missed it, then head back out to where the store begins and go along Montaigne Street all over again. But the street really seems to have gone now.

    I go back to the store area and browse the stationary near the front as I consider what to do next. Maybe I forgot to check something, and the meet-ups arenít happening right now. Itís going to be a few hours before I head back, and I need to figure out what Iím going to do for dinner at some point. I also decide, in a moment of latent lucidity, that Iím going to change the name of Montaigne Street to Montero Street, as that seems to fit it better. In the end, I just decide to look around the store for a while longer.

    Towards one corner, I find a series of furnished rooms. Theyíre a bit like display rooms you might actually find in a home improvement store showing off appliances or furnishings, only these ones seem to be set up as miniature haunted houses. I enter the room on the far end first, one thatís almost completely dark. This one seems to have a ďpet ghostĒ theme. As I explore the various furniture and parts of the room, certain things happen, triggered by my presence, such as noises or motion, and even the visible ghosts of cats. But I donít find the place scary at all. Itís actually rather relaxing. I lie on the bed in the corner for a while listening to things rustle and thinking about dead pets from times gone by.

    After a while, I move on, going into a couple more rooms I can no longer remember before heading into whatís clearly set up as a haunted nursery. This room has a lot more light coming in, so itís easy to see the furnishings, most prominently, a young childís bed Ė not actually a crib, but something that seems made for children about that age, maybe from an earlier era. The bed is dishevelled, and there are several piles of feces either on it or on the floor nearby, hinting towards neglect. It doesnít really look real and definitely doesnít smell real.

    As I examine a chest on the side of the room facing the store, I suddenly see a large group of ghosts standing together, looking in my direction. One of them, an older gentleman in a suit, gestures that I should come over to them. I do, and they lead me to a long table set up for a meal. It seems that the store has staffed their haunted rooms with real ghosts, and now that theyíre off-duty, theyíre closing up the rooms and inviting me to eat with them.

    Itís only once were seated and the meal begins Ė tea and pastries Ė that they begin talking, or possibly thatís just when I become able to understand them. The older gentleman is seated on my left, and we have a conversation in which I distinctly remember telling him about my cat, Thomas, who died 12 years ago.

    At some point, the scene changes Ė the implication seems to be that time has passed, and Iím travelling somewhere with three or four of them. One opens the back door of a black car, and another climbs in. I realize Iím supposed to get in as well. I notice Iím wearing a smooth black coat coming down somewhere between my knees and waist and a pair of black leather gloves.

    The scene changes further after that to a completely new setting Ė and while the store, at least, was almost certainly located in the U.S., this place has more the vibe of a developing country, possibly in the Caribbean. The man showing me around takes me past an area where many small boats are docked. He seems to feel this is a touristy area, not really representative of the place itself.

    At a clothing market, somebody comes up to him. It seems heís needed somewhere immediately, so it looks like Iím going to be on my own for the next couple hours. We agree to meet back up here in that general timeframe Ė this doesnít seem to be a place where people make appointments more precise than that.

    15.7.21
    Categories
    non-lucid

    Districts of Dream-Prague

    by LeaningKarst on 07-05-2021 at 03:27 AM
    I am in Dream-Prague with Saimi, showing her some parts of the city I like. She and I have both just recently arrived there, although it seems as if weíre here for entirely different reasons, and the visits just happened to coincide. We seem to be in the northwest region of the city.

    The place Iím showing her now is one that not many people know about, a neighborhood of winding streets on a hill, neat rows of houses on either side of the streets Ė a quiet, peaceful place. The houses are covered with what look like enormous cobwebs, large enough to completely cover most of the roofs. I tell Saimi that in the early morning, when itís misty, they shine like silver.

    We then head down to the tram stop together. This, unlike the webbed streets, is a location thatís familiar to me from a previous iteration of Dream-Prague, although it doesnít correspond to any waking-life location. On that occasion, the whole area had a much rougher vibe and was also undergoing construction. Perhaps with this in mind, I pull out my cell phone to show Saimi a couple pictures of how it used to look.

    I input the password first, which isnít my waking-life password. This one is also six digits long, and the numbers signify a personally important date Ė thereís a charged quality to the memories the date pulls along with it. The date is December 22, I think (although I canít remember the year now, or precisely what the dateís significance was). When I find the pictures, I notice strings of triangular orange flags in some of them, which tells me that I must have taken them during the protests.

    The wait at the tram stop is rather long (justified in-dream, I think, by it being a weekend). Thereís a whole little scene here with a man whoís decided to teach his dog another song (it already knows two). Itís a large dog, but friendly: it puts its paws on me, almost knocking me over. The song heís chosen is one of those old, popular ones most people know: it has kind of a jazz standard feel to it, lots of seventh chords and a melancholy tone. The lyrics are in German. I donít remember what all of them are, though, and nobody there seems to know them all offhand, so I get my phone back out to look them up. While I do, a man in a red shirt sings a version of them in English Ė although I have the impression he only remembers about half of them and is making the rest up as he goes, and he also starts at the chorus for some reason.

    Once the tram arrives, I get my ticket punched Ė I just have a one-use one since I havenít been here long. The tram heads straight east, neither turning or changing height so that, as the ground level falls, weíre positioned high enough to see most of the city from above. I look out over it. Iím glad to be back here, and Iím already looking forward to walking around all these places again.

    Eventually, the landscape changes. We now seem to be going through a park, which is also familiar to me. Iím puzzled at first Ė I donít remember the tram going here. But I do remember seeing the tracks back when I worked in this place, and so it does make sense that it would go here.

    The plot seems to have changed now, with the dream partly drawing on memories of the old wildlife hospital, a different time and place. I still used to work here, although in the dream, it seems to be mostly a long-time crew instead of short-term volunteers. It seems as if this iteration also suffers from financial issues and is staffed at about half the level it should be to run it properly. This is currently relevant since the people on the tram are now coming to work here as well, which brings it about to where it should be Ė in fact, it seems as if Iím taking them here for that purpose.

    As we walk through the park, I lead the way. I find everybody together out back behind a building, where they're seated in rows on the ground. As I walk between the rows, I happen to glance down at my own legs and notice Iím wearing brown leather sandals and khaki pants that are cut off at the knee. Not far off is the man whoís in charge of this place, whoís grateful to have so many people coming. Thereís a sense that there was once some kind of past tension between us that was wrapped up in why I left, and heíd since come to recognize was his fault. But that all seems to be over now.

    Thereís conversation now, and something about a ceremony thatís going to take place soon, where Rae, NC and KDís daughter, will break a staff in two and then remake it.

    3.7.21
    Categories
    non-lucid

    The Moon has Fallen Asleep

    by LeaningKarst on 05-31-2021 at 01:26 AM
    Another dream on the verge of being lucid without quite being there. In the earliest part I can remember clearly, Iím on a computer: Iím looking up some band Iím interested in, trying to find more of their music. But the dream shifts to another scenario. It still isnít lucid, but itís pretty clear Iím not actually invested in it as real. Iím initially in an outdoor farm-like area with flamingos some distance away, observing interactions between characters. I only identify with one when sheís asked a question, changing to her viewpoint and responding as her. Thereís a sense of making things up as I go along. I need to go somewhere now, and so I call to the nearby leopard, which I call Arthur, telling him to come with me. (I use the German pronunciation. I am about 90% sure I decided to name it after Schopenhauer.) It doesnít want to get up, but I pull it to its feet, which it tolerates, and we walk away.

    Next, I remember entering a building. Itís somewhat reminiscent of a building on a campsite, just a long rectangle, possibly something like an uninsulated metal frame, and has no interior divisions. Itís mostly empty and white, and thereís an even stronger sense of almost-lucidity here. Itís as if whatever plot there may have been has definitely gone off the rails by now, and Iím driving things, though not in a fully conscious way.

    I go over to the bed in the nearest corner Ė other than the one by the door I entered from Ė and sit down on it. What follows is maybe best described as a strange kind of visual thinking Ė a little like reading a picture book, where I cease to really be present in the room and am absorbed in the stories that are playing out in mental space. Itís hard to describe since it isnít exactly like anything that happens while awake Ė but itís almost like thereís another presence there telling the stories.

    They seem to be some kind of philosophical parable, and also a sort of story-behind-stories, representing something that was once commonly manifested in literature from an earlier time. The first one was so utterly bizarre that I canít remember a thing about it now Ė but in the dream, I understand it perfectly since the meaning in all its facets and interrelations is just a part of it as it is presented. I can see it all mapped out, like a complex constellation. But some of the points are placed in the wrong locations for it to reflect reality. Itís something I was already aware of, but itís a little sad to see it laid out like this so clearly.

    Thereís enough of a gap for the room to enter my awareness again before the second story begins. This one is apparently communicating the same thing as the first one did, but in a different way. I can remember the beginning of this one Ė how the wolves were all howling at the moon, but the moon had fallen asleep and couldnít hear themÖ

    5.30.21
    Categories
    non-lucid