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    Recent Entries

    The Moon above a Grove of Palms

    by LeaningKarst on 12-09-2018 at 07:41 PM
    As usual, I seem to have become aware that Iím dreaming without being able to remember how it happened. Iím in a house along with two other people. I believe that theyíre other dreamersónot sure now on what basis.

    In one part early on, Iím looking at a still scene in front of me, like a picture. It takes me a couple minutes to puzzle out whatís happening in it. A young man is shown looking into a body of water like a lake. The sky is colorful and full of varied light, with a couple odd-shaped clouds in the foreground. I figure out that the cloud that looks like a unicornís head is going towards the cloud shaped like a dragonís, which represents an attack on the sun by the moon, and the man is watching it through the reflections in the water.

    When Iíve realized this, the scene comes to life in front of me. The clouds converge, and the sky darkens, with the moon appearing. It behaves strangely at first before taking up a normal course in the sky. The man gets up and heads in the direction it has gone. Heís going to try to fix the situation.

    A lot of the dream faded from memory when I woke up, but in the subsequent parts, I was with the two dreamers. I only remember one person well, a guy. He is apparently already familiar with this legendóI get the impression he knows a lot of them.

    At some point quite a bit later on, the others are somewhere else, fighting a monster of some kind. I guess some people donít feel like theyíve really accomplished something unless thereís an epic boss battle at the endóbut I just donít find those things very interesting. While thatís going on, Iím standing near a grove of palm trees, above which the moon is floating in the form of a little, glowing crescent shape. Once we get ahold of that, weíve won. According to the man, however, thereís something odd about the palm leaves, and a person will die if they touch them. But they just look like normal palm leaves to me, and so I figure Iíll take my chances with them. Anyway, I can fly in from above and avoid the leaves that way.

    First step: make wings. Iíve been using shortcuts so much lately I figure that this time, Iíll do the full procedure like I used to. I stand facing my shadow on the ground, and will it to grow wings. Immediately, I see them unfolding, and unfolding further, out to their usual considerable span.

    But this timeóperhaps in response to my wanting to get a better view of what happens when I do thisóthere are also reflective surfaces nearby, although I canít say now just what they were. I can see the wings themselves reflected in themóand since Iíve never set an intention for anything beyond generic wings, itís a bit of a surprise to see how theyíre turning outóred-gold in color, and faintly glowing. I climb up onto a nearby objectóagain, I canít remember specifically what it wasóand from there, hover over to the trees and grab the crescent moon.

    In the process, though, I brush the tips of a couple palm leaves. And, perhaps because of tható or perhaps notó I soon find the dream fading around me until Iím in complete darkness. Iím still lucid, though. It feels as if Iím moving forward, but with nothing visible except for occasional faint shapes in the darkness, itís impossible to tellóor, for that matter, tell how much time is passing. But after a while, I feel like itís a good time to go back. I open my eyes, intending to be in the previous setting.

    And Iím there, as before, and so are the two people. I can remember even less of this later part than I can the previous oneóalthough I can recall the second person definitely being female in this one, whereas I can remember nothing at all about them from the first. Thereís a series of events involving a deep pit filled with boiling water that opened up in the house. At some later part, the others seem to have lost lucidity. They're acting somewhat zombie-like, and are unresponsive to my efforts to get their attention. Not long after that, I wake up.

    8.12.18
    Categories
    lucid , memorable

    In Media Res

    by LeaningKarst on 12-03-2018 at 04:58 AM
    Itís sometimes disappointing to wake up with only fragmented memories of dreamsóbut sometimes, trying to image what the context might have been is almost worth it.

    In the beginning of the dream, Iím walking into a building. Many people are already thereóit seems like some event is taking place, possibly multiple events. A couple men are entering at the same time as I am. One of them seems to be able to see meóalthough he doesnít say anything to meóand the other doesnít. Iím keeping track of the people who are able to see me since Iím really not supposed to be here, and Iím trying to keep a low profile.

    The space Iím entering is basically a circular building with a separate central area, although the specifics kept changing throughout the dream. The first area I walk through, going clockwise, seems to be a restaurant. I pass people sitting at tables, including one thatís occupied by dreadlocked guys dressed in Jamaican colors who seem to be having a lot of fun.

    [Note: today, the day after the dream, I was given a story to work on about reggae becoming a UNESCO intangible cultural heritageóso maybe thatís what they were so happy about.]

    There was a lot that happened after that, most of which I canít remember very clearly. But, towards the end, the space was like an auditorium, with a lecture area in the center and areas for students to sit all around it and higher up. I had put the table I had surreptitiously borrowed from Nancy Pelosi among the tables in the student area while I went and did some other stuff, but in the meantime, students had come in, including my friend Dirk. And somebody, noticing that the table is more wheelchair-friendly than the standard tables there, which have metal bars crisscrossed underneath them, has set him up with it.

    Now, I had totally been intending to give Nancy Pelosi her table back. Itís what I came back here to do. But Dirk is clearly getting some good out of it. Also, Nancy Pelosi was more of a jerk than I had expected. I figure she can just buy a new table or something.

    1.12.18
    Categories
    non-lucid

    Interdimensional Bathhouse; Music Box #5

    by LeaningKarst on 11-12-2018 at 03:15 AM
    Iím in what seems to be a bathhouseóa basic, no-frills rectangular room with a concrete floor, on the large side, with a number of small pools and folding screens that can be moved around. Although the setting also seemed shifty and indefinite in a more basic wayóa ďI had this dream early in the nightĒ kind of way.

    Weird things are constantly happening there, strange figures materializing and disappearing again in a sort of timeless convergence - it almost seems like there's nothing outside of this place, even though in one sense I arrived here at a definite point of time - but nobody else seems aware of it. But this is normal: I hadnít been able to see them once, but I had been through a long processóall of it, every stage. I go over it in memory: some parts of it had been unpleasant or even frightening, but thereís nothing frightening about it now that I can see the whole of it instead of just pieces. Itís familiaróit even feels like home somehow.

    I seem to have come here with two young women, and at some pointóitís very difficult to say what order things happened in in this dreamóI say to one that this is a special place, that you can feel it in the atmosphere. Iím curious if she can feel it too, on some level. At some other point, perhaps earlier or perhaps later, one asks me if thereís anyone here Iím interested in romantically. I say that there is one person, but Iíve only spoken to him a couple times. And he hasnít shown up here for a couple hundred years nowóbut I feel itís best not to mention that.

    Also, at one point, one of them is arranging stuff around a pool we're going to use. There isn't enough space for two people to do it without getting in each other's way, but I don't want to just sit there, so I clean up some of the central area at the same time.

    Later on, towards morning, I have another dream. Iím now in a large house with my bouzouki instructor for a lesson. I have the impression that itís not his house or mineóthat heís an employee here. There are interruptions to our lessonówe have to temporarily leave the house at one point and go somewhere else in a car.

    But we do make it back inside eventually, and he tells me to go get something. He gives me directions to the room and tells me to get #5, indicating approximately where in the room Iíll be able to find it.

    Itís only a few rooms away, and I make it there without difficulty. It wouldnít be an exaggeration to call this house a mansion, but the room I now find myself in wouldnít be out of place in a palace. Itís richly decorated, 18th-century style, in blue and silver. Thereís another doorway on the other end, and one of the longer walls, to my left, is covered with shelves, all of which are lined with ornate silver music boxes. Theyíre all individually numbered, and #5 is one of the farthest to the left, about mid-way up.

    It occurs to me that people who decorate rooms like this usually donít like other people coming in and messing with them. But, at the same time, this place has the look of an archive. It will probably be OK, then. I take the music box off the shelf. It has its number and what seems to be some notes about it carved onto the top in a rather messy handwriting.

    I open it thereóbut unfortunately, I canít really remember what happened then, although the dream kept going. Before carrying it back, I notice what looks like a bone flute lying on the floor, the only thing out of place here. Perhaps a child was playing with it and left it there, I think.

    (8.11.18)
    Categories
    non-lucid

    Space Rock Treasure

    by LeaningKarst on 10-22-2018 at 03:04 AM
    Iím at the counter of a coffee shop that looks like one in a town not far from where I work. They seem to be selling small squares of chocolate cake, and I decide Iíll get one with my espresso. Iím hoping that it will be less expensive than their big slices of cake. But the total comes out to a little more than $10ómeaning it was actually quite a bit more expensive. The woman behind the counter tells me that, if the total comes up to just a little more, which it would if I ordered a different kind of coffeeóbut actually, I canít seem to get her to explain whatís supposed to happen and why it would be a good thing.

    After a couple attempts, though, it occurs to me that Iím probably dreamingópossibly just because it was one of those rare scenarios - rare for me, anyway - thatís enough like waking life to where the differences are obvious. I look around the room. I have just enough time to observe that this is actually quite a good rendition of the waking life location before my vision starts fading.

    I head for the door, and stepping outside seems to fix the problem. I can see just fine here. Iím now on a street thatís a little reminiscent of the waking life one that Iíd expect to be here, but more vibrant and interesting. But I donít stick around: I start running down the street, then flapping the wings I know will be there when I want them to be, then flying.

    I rise higher, above the treetops, then make a strange kind of turnóI ought to be flying straight up, but somehow Iím parallel to the ground in a different location. I seem to be above a forest now, and above me is the evening sky. Thereís sort of a natural path here, a groove where the foliage is lower, and I fly along it. I pass a lamppost on my right. Itís an interesting thing, very modern-lookingójust a smooth, cylindrical pole with a vertical slit near the top that has purple light shining through it. I note that it would be completely useless from the groundóalmost as if this is a real trail Iím flying along, and it's lighting it.

    Was there anything I was planning to do next time I had a lucid dream? The only thing I can think of is actually looking at my wings. I never seem to think of it untilólike nowóIím already in the air. Oh, well.

    In the sky, above and ahead of me, I can see a red lightóreally, more like a small circle of lights. I figure Iíll go see what it is. That might be interesting.

    I fly towards it. Pretty soon, thereís nothing in my field of vision but sky and the red light. It will be harder to maintain lucidity with nothing more solid to focus on, I know, and so I increase my concentration.

    Once Iím closer to it, I can see what it is: a meteor, headed down towards the earth. I wonder if I should try to keep it from hitting. I aim myself towards it, but miss and end up behind it. I fly back down towards it, manage to catch up, but miss it that time, too. But, as I happen to glance at the fields below, I spot chunks of broken-up rocks in a few places. They look like the same type of rock the meteor is made of. And it isnít a very big oneóonly about half my height. Maybe this isnít something to worry about, thenóthis is something that happens all the time here.

    I watch as it hits and breaks apart and then land to get a closer look. Among the fragments is a pile of colorful rocks. Some look like red and white crystals, some like turquoises, others like amethyst geodes. I gather them up.

    I notice that someoneís nearbyóan Asian man, maybe in his 20s. It occurs to me that he might want some of the rocksóand really, I donít have any claim to them. I was just the first person to get here. I offer him some. He says heís only interested in the turquoises right now and picks one outóa particularly smooth oneóand sets it among a large number of others he has in a bag. I insist that he take another one, too, but then wake up soon after that.

    (8.10.18)
    Categories
    lucid

    Unison

    by LeaningKarst on 10-04-2018 at 04:07 AM
    The dream starts out with a scenario very much like the waking one I must have just left: having trouble getting to sleep. Iím initially on a thin mat on the floor of a room in a house, in a sleeping bag, but I give up and move the sleeping bag to the couch, where I do finally manage to fall asleep.

    The dream I subsequently find myself in is a lucid one. It went on for long enough to where entire segments of it have faded from memory, and Iím no longer entirely sure whether I have the order of the things right. But here goes.

    The earliest parts, probably, were of flying over a city at night. Iím just looking around, observing my surroundings. I spot a brightly lit areaótennis courtsóand fly down. But as Iím getting close, the lights suddenly turn off, leaving me in the dark. I imagine my wingsówhich Iíve been doing without until nowóand use them to propel myself up from just above the ground. But not long after that, I figure that it might be better to walkóthere are people Iím looking for here, and it might be easier to find them down there. So I land and continue going that way.

    This city seems to be a modern one, and the area I'm in is well lit. To my right, I spot a large building that looks like a hotel, and further on is another one. No people around, though. I pause to examine some graffiti carved into the gray paint of a metal pillar, possibly supporting an overpass. Most of it is illegible scribbles, but I distinctly read the name ďJosephĒ.

    Nobody else seems to be walking around. I do eventually spot some people (specifically, four guys and a ferret) through the glass-walled corner of a building and have a brief conversation with them, but it seems to cut off partway through, and I find myself as a disembodied point of view, looking at a bunch of grapes. Theyíre hanging on a vine thatís grown around a tree in a forest. I remember reading something on Dreamviews about being able to play with the perspective of visual imageryóand thereís no way in hell Iím going to be able to visualize that well while awake, so I figure Iíll try it now. I find I can change the angle just by intending to, can zoom in and have a closer look. Even close, it looks incredibly realistic.

    But before I can get even closer, thereís another transition, and I find myself in a house. Iím near a large windowóI canít see anything outside since itís light inside and dark outside, and it just looks black, but I figure Iíll jump through it and see what happens.

    I jump straight through the glass as if it wasnít there and find that what I saw before was actually accurateóthere really is nothing here but featureless darkness. I donít even seem to have a body anymore. I consider the situation. Iím not worried about waking up: I recall that I spent quite a while lying awake before thisóhaving correctly remembered my waking life circumstances rather than mistaking the dream I fell asleep in for real, which isn't always what happens in these situationsóand so Iíll still be catching up on sleep.

    The idea occurs to me to sing a song, one I remember singing in choir when I was a kid. I then think that itís kind of a silly songówhy would I want to do that? But no, itís better to go with my first thought. Itís probably the right oneóitís better not to second-guess this kind of thing. And so I sing it there.

    Long ago, in a far off land,
    Lived a child who loved to sing.
    She opens up her fragile heart,
    And the song, it takes wingÖ


    Although itís not exactly like Iím singing it, since I still seem to be somewhat disembodied. Iím surprised by how good my voice sounds here, though. It resonates in a way I wasnít expecting in a space that appears to be a complete void.

    At some point after that, after some unknown transition, I seem to be in the same house as before, just looking around. It has multiple floors, and above one staircase, I find what appears to be a clock playing a waltz-like melody. It sounds a bit like a calliope.

    As I listen, it occurs to me to try another experiment. I clear my mind, getting everything else out of the way, then wordlessly sing, improvising a melody that might come after what I've already heard. And I find that what I'm singing exactly matches the tune the calliope clock is playing. It's as if, one way or another, weíre drawing from the same source, which is fascinating. So it is just me after all.

    Thereís quite a bit that happened after that, most of it involving the man who lived in the houseóbut, unfortunately, I can only remember the very end, as he was walking out. Shortly after that, I wake up.

    (3.10.18)
    Categories
    lucid