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Really potent dream state. I had been drinking at a party that night, but I had still never experienced dreaming quite like this, alcohol or no. There was no REM rebound either, dreaming began almost immediately.
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Lying back into the hammock, still a little intoxicated from the party, I begin to drift into sleep. I am in a room off to the side with some other people who have turned in for the night, while in the lounge room a small group of party-goers keep going strong. My eyes shut, the music doesn't bother me.
I am flying over a fantastical modern city. Huge buildings stretch up into the sky, incredibly detailed. The way my three dimensional perspective shifts is incredibly realistic. As I have experienced before, the movement itself causes the visuals to solidify rapidly.
I am wandering through this dreamworld. I find myself in a penthouse apartment of sorts. There are many well-dressed, influential people here. Some hold glasses of champagne, others speak in hushed tones. It seems that there is an event of some description on. The rooms are vast and the decor minimalist. I am definitely amongst the upper echelon of society, but there are distinct underworld currents here and powerful ones at that. Women in stunning dresses sip at cocktails, a man deals cards at a table, and there are people coming and going from an oriental meeting room. I try to peer inside but the security is eyeing me suspiciously.
I wander into a side room. There are people here being 'sold' for exorbitant amounts of money, but they are all very keen to be here. There's roughly half a dozen of them, dressed in white robes, male and female and all glamourously beautiful. They aren't slaves or prostitutes as such, more like high-status consorts whose loyalty is bought, trophies to be displayed. There are a few people bidding here. By entering the room, I have unwittingly entered myself in the auction, but I am not at all dressed or prepared for such an event. A price is named for me. It is low compared to the others, but still in figures that I could not expect to see in my lifetime.
A pixie-eyed man, one of the actual party-goers from the waking world, leans over and speaks to me.
"Not bad at all, but I will attract a much higher sum."
He did, of course. He wasn't gloating so much as stating fact, this was their profession.
"What other purpose is there to life than to be as beautiful and glamourous as possible?" He believed that it only made sense for everyone to aspire to this ideal.
It was then that I had a 'false awakening' in the apartment. I get out of the hammock and stagger into the lounge room. The party-goers are still up, awake and energetic, but very aware that they are dreaming.
"This is what we do," the pixie-eyed man explained. "We go out exploring this world at night. We thought that as you were here, we would try to wake you up as well."
It had worked for me, but all the others who had turned in early were still sleeping in the room I had left. They were too deeply asleep to be pulled into the dream.
They began to explain that they went by aliases while dreaming to protect their physical identities. It made sense to me, except that the pixie-eyed man had been making quite the name for himself as a rogue lucid-awakener by the name 'Anderson'. I got the Matrix reference. It seemed he had been pulling a lot of people into his dream adventures recently. I recalled seeing his name at an earlier time, somewhere in another dream, and warned him to be careful.
It was too late. Eyes were already upon him and his group. An illuminati-style organisation had taken interest in his activities and decided to put a stop to them. Their methods involved misleading and blinding individuals with familiar glamours. They wouldn't even know that they had been restricted to only existing within their own personal dreamworlds.
We had to flee, running out into the corridors. Desperately trying to escape the clutch of our pursuers. The party was split, we were forced to break up into smaller groups and head out into different directions. But we kept getting lost, funnelled only down the paths that the organisation dictated. And then we would awake again in that lounge room. Lights off, only two of us this time. We'd look at each other and run out into the hallways. Awakened again, this time a couple of others. We were all confused, scared, frightened. Awake again, and again, and then I opened my eyes.
I was physically awake this time, lying in the hammock. The very people I had been dreaming about were in the lounge room outside, dancing and doing shots. But I could't hold onto my waking awareness and fell back beneath the waves. Awake again, same lounge room, but this time I was alone.
I ran out into the hallway, none from the group in sight. I followed the paths through the building desperately, and finally this time I came to a location I had not seen before. The hall curved around into a room with an alcove and a tall window looking out over the cloud-shrouded buildings beyond. The city I had seen as I flew over it at the beginning of my journey.
I stopped, looking out over the breath-taking view. I became aware of two figures that had been waiting here. One was a man, silent, clothed and hooded in black robes. I had a sensation of knowing him, a name; the Angel. The other was a man in a simple work suit. He was from the organisation, or at least knew of my predicament. It appeared they had been speaking before my arrival. The man from the organisation approached me and began to converse with me. He explained that given the circumstances, I would be free to go.
The dream shifted and time was lost. I found myself walking through a busy train station. There were escalators and shops, commuters going to and from platforms. I wandered around, perhaps keeping an eye out for anyone I may know, but I needed no goods or transport.
Some troubling self-esteem dreams this month. I was gripped with the notion that my friends despised me. Despite knowing that they were just dreams, I was still emotionally affected by it. Thankfully, by the end of the month, I had worked through this issue. A lot of hypnagogia this month as well. It's been interesting to say the least.
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Some strange, oily hypnagogia. I see intense but limited visuals. A painted white spiral staircase. An empty apartment room with french windows, people standing on the patio beyond. I am gaining traction, but I get the sense that I am positing my awareness inside another person. He moves without my guidance, beginning to stumble, perhaps due to my influence. He turns and falls to the ground, reaching a hand out hoping to catch himself. I hear one of his associates call his name, and then again but closer and far louder. It is so sharp that it awakens me completely.
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I re-attempt a lucid technique that I had tried once before. As I lay awaiting sleep, I begin to count.
"1, I am dreaming. 2, I am dreaming."
As I do so, hypnagogic voices begin to intrude. They sigh and sound disappointed, and then begin the try to interrupt my counting. Some speaking over the top of me, others counting backwards trying to muddle my continuity. I press on regardless. They are annoying but not hostile.
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I dream of a crime scene. A thick-set man enters an underground bar frequented by those with criminal affiliations. It is empty but for the barkeep and his staff. He asks the barkeep to recount the events of the previous night. A young man had become drunk and rowdy. In his inebriated state he had stumbled and fallen, punching a drink off a table by accident. The drink's owner, the man now standing in the bar, had been intoxicated himself. Enrage by the slight, he had instantly drawn his pistol and fired three bullets into the younger man. The barkeep vows not to tell a single other soul about the event.
The next day I take the tram to work and we pass by a road blocked off by police tape. A man had been murdered in the early hours of the morning, affiliated with the local mob. Three bullets.
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I am at a supermarket but all the fresh produce looks old and stale. I am offered a punnet of raspberries, but they look rotten. I eat some anyway, and instantly spit them out. They taste sour and foul. The sensation of taste is strong.
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My arms and legs are all tangled and tied up in knots, restricting my movement. I beseech a male friend for help and he assists, untangling my limbs. He pulls a note out of my back pocket, indicating that it may explain the issue. I unfold the note and read it.
The top line reads; 'You need to quit smoking.'
It is followed by a single word at the bottom, bracketed as though an after thought, but capitalise for emphasis; '(CUNT)'
I am so shocked by it that the memory sticks strong in my mind. The next day I begrudgingly decide to quit smoking.
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We are a team of soldiers on a perilous mission to vanquish a great alien intellect within its own metallic domain. Through holes in the floor, we can view the next dangerous stage of our journey. We meet a man who is besieged by the same entity, but he is also caught up in the illusions that it presents. Through the holes, he sees his own home and family. We warn him that he is too close to the being and this is a sign that he is endangered. He deliberates on what to do.
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I am in the back garden of my grandparent's house, a memory from childhood. My cohesion is low, but the detail is still quite high. I go inside. The house is quiet, but items are left out on the table. The room feels lived in, as though somebody had been here not too long ago. I flip the light switch, and nothing happens. I sigh, miss the lucidity cue, and turn to my left, instantly spying the breaker box. I find it odd that for some reason it is now located in the kitchen. The door is open with only a single fuse switch. I flick it on and the lights spring to life. I turn back around and there is a tall man wearing dark clothes leaning against the sink behind me.
Just weird dream related things from February. I had a number of precognitives as well, but I might put them in their own entry.
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Hypnapompia. A woman is to my left, speaking with energetic curiosity.
"Your eye, when it glows white, what does that mean?" She asks. I snap awake, and know not how to respond.
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I am sleeping on the couch in my friend's house. I experience a strong thought several times during the night. I am not dreaming at the time, and the thought wakes me up completely.
'He is here, now, in my presence, in this room.' I have no recollection of the thoughts preceding this. It is potent enough to spur me to instantly awaken and open my eyes wide, observing the room. Each time, I see nothing out of the ordinary, and return to sleep.
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A surprisingly vivid dream. I am lying in an open-plan apartment. The visuals are acute, but I do not know this place. Sparks fly down from above me. I turn around to look in the top left corner behind me, knowing that there is an entity present, bit my vision is spun back around against my will. I try again, and the visuals are distorted, flipping the room and returning my view to the front. On my third attempt, I can look up, but see nothing except for a hazy invisible aura. I become tired and lean back in my hammock. I feel like I am being drained, all my energy is gone, and I fall down exhausted and hardly able to move. There are kittens beneath me! I need to save them or I'll crush them, but my movement is dragging.
I am aware of a change afterwards. I know that I have to remember the full sequence of events and I set to reciting them while still in the dream. Suffice it to say, I have since forgotten.
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Manage to hold vibratory hypnagogia for a full hour or so. Lots of weird visuals, but nothing out of the ordinary besides the duration.
A dream from later that day. I am loaded into a canon on a satellite orbiting high above the Earth's atmosphere. I am fired down a long tube towards the ground. I fall so very far and for so long. I am not sure how to hold my body as I streak through the air. I am very aware of where my limbs are. Eventually I hit the Earth and tumble across the ground. I'm perfectly fine but my equipment is a little damaged.
"Next time I should remember to deploy my parachute," I say out loud.
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I'm outside in a suburban neighbourhood with a real-life friend and his mate. We are smoking, and staring up at the night sky. There are three moons. We think it's very strange, and wonder how the optical illusion could be caused. Shame I missed the lucidity cue.
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I am with the Sentinel and a number of others. I know they are my protectors. White robes cover their eyes. I am not lucid, and in my office at work. They are discussing something amongst themselves, a metaphysical topic which I do not understand. In my non-lucid state, I seem not to mind. I look out the window and see that the sky is dark with thunderheads, a storm approaches. In the street below, I see the strangest anomaly. A huge thick cloud of a dusty, ochre, gaseous condensation. Thick, black, plasmatic streamers coil within, like electric water waiting to discharge. It is dangerous and very vivid. It passes by beneath us, we go unnoticed. I note that the streets are still dry, and people carry umbrellas but they are closed. I expected it to have left a torrent of rain in its wake and am quite surprised.
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I pull on a blue poncho that I am offered and conjure my reflection before me to see how it looks. My head is gone! I laugh, thinking that this is amazing. I tilt my head around, trying to see if my eyes have fallen down the trunk of my neck. A friend approaches, and seems perturbed by my odd behaviour. I exuberantly tell them that my head is missing, but they look confused. I turn back to my reflection and am dismayed to see that everything has returned to normal.
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I am sleeping on the floor of my friend's room. At some point during one of my dreams, I become aware of a dark presence closing in around me. It slowly tightens its circle, a fear-inducing blackness beyond. I rush around frantically, unsure of what to do. I call on the Sentinel, and I feel his presence appear. He urges me to scream, and so I do, but instead of a cry of fear the most ungodly sound comes out of my throat. It sounds like the wail of a banshee. The sound immediately banishes and drives away the encroaching darkness. I force me eyes open, and in the darkness of the room I see a glowing blue face.
'It's just an illusion,' I remind myself, and it fades away. But I was not the only one who had bad dreams that night.
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I smoked some mugwort for the first time. I had a lot of fairly vivid dreams, and while I did not become lucid, some part of me was aware as though I was. I began practising dream control exercises which I normally would have done while lucid. I teleported around, surprised that it came easily to me. I also attempted to change the colour of a rock to yellow. In the dream, I was convinced I had failed, but when I awoke to record the dream I could only remember the rock ever being yellow, so I suppose it had worked even better than expected.
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Hypnapompia. I am a girl; blue, silver, watery, lunar. I pass into another space and now I am a boy; red, gold, fiery, solar. But I am still the same person.
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Some strange pseudo-sleepwalking. My muscles hurt, so I lie out on the floor of my bedroom. As I fall asleep, it feels as if I fall out of my body and through the floor. No dreams, but after some time, my room mate moves about in the hall and startles me. I open my eyes sitting on the edge of my hammock. I know that I had hurriedly stood up from the floor and moved to the side of the room, but I was definitely not conscious while it happened. It takes me a while to shake the disorientation.
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I am inside a collection of shops in my hometown. I become lucid, but I have not stabilised well. I stagger about to find some dream characters to harass. I barge into a room, and several people turn to look at me. I begin to speak, but its apparent that I'm not holding onto my lucidity well. It falls away and I wander off to go and rake some leaves.
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I am with a friend in a bed within the dream. We want to sleep peacefully but I am afraid of the house. As we are lying there, I sight a black mass entering through the door. My friend tries to calm me down, but I begin to panic and awake. I realise that the image is of actual objects in my room, but rotated 90 degrees to the left. As I awake, the visuals pivot to their correct alignment before my eyes. My head had not turned, only the image in my mind. It was very bizarre.
After all the intense dreams of the previous month, I felt almost as though I needed a break. Didn't stop the weirdness though. Reading back over it is kind of sobering. Be assured I had plenty of mundane dreams as well!
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A sudden startling image of one of my friends standing in my back doorway. Highly detailed, as though I were right there.|
"I can hear everything you are thinking," he says. It was weird. Weird enough for me to tell a dream character in a later dream of the night about it.
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I am with my blonde host sister, although she does not exist in the waking world. I regretted not spending more time with her over the years, even though I had always regarded her as one of the shadow ones.
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I was in the countryside on a peaceful night. I looked up to see that we were mid-way through a lunar eclipse, but we were viewing it through some sort of rift or portal in the sky. As the moon passed and the eclipse ended, the warp collapse and the moon disappeared. Then, all of a sudden, I was catapulted into the air with great force and began to soar over the starlit countryside.
"I am dreaming," I thought, but within moments I had awoken.
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A tension in the air. I walk past a hooded man in sorrow outside the barred window of a sleeping woman.
"I visit her in her dreams," he says to me. "Is this wrong?"
"No," I say, "but she will never know you beyond that."
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Entity dream for certain. My room looks completely real, but it is like a strange sleep paralysis has fallen over me. I could move, but only barely, and parts of my body felt numb. I became aware that I had an extra set of arms. I investigated my body awareness and realised that I could not move one of the sets. I rolled over and bit down into one of their fists. I heard a male voice scream out in pain from within my head.
There was a shift, and I was in the bathtub of my parents' bathroom. The lights were out but the room was illuminated by the warm glow of a candle. It was incredibly realistic, as though it had been ripped straight from my memories.
'This is wrong,' I thought, and the dream shifted back to my bedroom. I was in my hammock, but could still hear the hollow slosh of the bathwater. I felt the presence return, invisible hands touching me. I encouraged the presence to approach, I was in the mood for games.
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Truly strange cognition. At one point in the night I recall waking and visiting the bathroom for a glass of water. Upon returning, I was convinced that I had to perform all my actions in reverse. It was integral to remember that in this world it was different. I even believed that everything I had been doing up to that point had been in reverse, and that therefore I was succeeding.
Writing everything out like this in short summaries is very therapeutic. Recurring character is recurring.
I am drifting over the water. I am dead. I am missing my other body, but what is it? Invisible, impossible, immortal. it is the body which grants me power.
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A single note, at the bottom of one of my journal pages. 'I don't remember why we were in the submarine'.
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Hypnagogia. A single voice on the edge of sleep.
"Fall back into my tentacles."
"Excuse me!?" I stammer, but darkness envelops me.
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I am walking with my brother, advising him about some personal struggles he is having. I get him to a read from a poetry book that he has been assigned for school. I haven't read it, but I'm surprised at how good the content is, and relevant to his problems. I tell him to read one passage a day and meditate on its meaning.
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He's under house arrest. Had we been stealing things? I feel like it must have been for a good cause.
Eggs! Oh man, I want some eggs. He is quickly forgotten in my pursuit of eggs.
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A man and a woman have kidnapped me, ferreting me away into the nearby forest. They need time to cast their teleportation spell, but a warrior woman has followed us looking for me. I manage to sight her through the trees. She looks exactly like me. Perhaps I should have struggled. The spell is cast and the dream shifts.
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I shift, and find myself in a forest. He is here with me, the Sentinel. There isn't a doubt in my mind that it is him. We smile at each other and talk a little, but mostly there is just a silent knowing.
I have to climb a tree. One of the branches is on an incline and is long, sturdy and straight, but it is broken right up near the trunk. I am small, perhaps it will hold my weight a while, but not for long. He watches me, giving the occasional word of advice. He feels I should abandon that path altogether and climb up the smaller, but more secure network of branches to the side. I think that I can make the best of both.
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"It's 5:70pm," someone says. For some reason, it doesn't strike me as odd.
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I am walking down a street, but I can empathically sense everything about the occupants of the houses without seeing them. One of my friends arrive, so I tell him all about it, forgetting that it is quite normal for a dream.
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We are soldiers in a five-man squad. Zombies attack. I climb to elevation and use my rifle to pick them off. It does not take us long to dispatch them, but our commanding officer informs us that we cannot move on until we find our final party member who has gone missing during the raid. We look around us but cannot see him. Other squads past by and radio messages are sent out, but nobody knows where he is. I think about what I know of him to try and work out where he could have gone. All I know is that his name is Horse, because he is a horse.
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I am in a fantasy game world. A quest giver keeps telling me to take a Potion of Patience and sit still for a while. I should have taken their advice.
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I'm walking, but my vision and cognition are still very hazy.
"Sentinel? I wonder if you can hear me," I say.
"I can always hear you," he replies, a voice in my mind. My attention is piqued.
"Let me go somewhere quieter away from all these people so we can talk," I say. A nice idea, but I am distracted easily. There are people listening to music, and I dance and sing along, thoroughly enjoying it. When I feel I have spent enough time intruding on their space, I turn around. There is figure concealed by shadows smoking and observing in silence. I thank him for letting me enjoy this time, and move on.
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The kingdom is fleeing at the behest of the Queen. A bushfire approaches and threatens their lives. The young royal advisor frantically suggests that we should check on the Watchers, the entities which look over our kingdom, before we leave in case their loyalty should wander in our absence. I go up to their chamber, overlooking the town. The walls are carved stone and the room is well lit. The door opens before me, bidding me entrance. On a stone plinth sits a thick tome. The Book of Kings! I am excited to see it in person. The Watchers fill the pages with information when they wish to communicate with the royals of the kingdom. My mother may be the Queen, but I am not of royal blood. This is a great honour. I sit down, filled with anticipation. The advisor returns, freaking out that we should become trapped in here by the Watchers and never allowed to leave. I snicker under my breath.
"Just approach the door and it will open for you," I say aloud. But in my head, I think 'Or rather, they will open it for you'.
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I'm taken to a bar by some friends. One by one, people from my past begin to arrive. It feels as if this has been arranged.
We go outside to observe a ceremony. Hundreds of people are amassed on the banks of a river as a a boat comes through and the ritual begins. Everyone begins to glow red or blue and their abdomens look like interlocking fingers. Each chooses a partner and merges with them, before disappearing and ascending. One boy approaches me, but I ask him to keep his distance. Eventually they all disappear, and only a small number of us are left behind. They will return when the journey is over and they have seen what was intended.
I seek out an older woman inside the tavern. She is the lover of a wise old Indian man. I ask her about the ceremony, but she does not want to say too much, and I do not want to appear ignorant. She says that the ritual requires the ingestion of a certain mushroom, and that they will return after its effects end. I ask her if she ever joined in the ceremony before, and she tells me that she has not.
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Hypnapompia. My cat is meowing, but it sounds more agitated than normal. My half-dreaming mind translates it into words as I border on the edge of sleep.
"I'm sorry if I have offended your personality as a lion," she says in my dream.