# Sleep and Dreams > Dream Journals > Dream Journal Archive >  >  Oneironut's Dream Journal

## oneironut

Welcome, and thanks for taking a look at my dream journal. A  daily diet of books, movies, and video games usually results in some odd dreams for me, so hopefully you will be entertained. If a dream is lucid, I'll note it by the title.

Today's entry is definitely game-influenced, specifically my frustration with jumping puzzles...

*Game Over
Wednesday, December 06, 2006, 2:30 a.m.*

Im in a futuristic elevator, and things arent going well. I hear faint explosions in the distance, the cabin is shaking, sparks fly from the control panel, and I get the feeling the elevator cable is ready to snap at any moment. Im obviously eager to get out when the doors slide open, and I rush out to find myself

in an even worse mess. Im standing on a small metal platform jutting out from the rock wall of a cavern that doesnt seem to end in any direction. Suspended by wires all around my platform are various pipes and catwalks. Im studying this arrangement and trying to figure out how Im going to navigate it when the platform suddenly drops beneath me and I go sliding off the edge. I dont scream, and the only feeling I have is annoyance over screwing up and having to start over.

Fade to black, and Im back on the platform again. I move faster this time, and with a running jump grab onto the edge of a catwalk above me just before the platform falls. I try to pull myself up onto it, but I cant get my legs over the railing. My hands finally lose their grip and down I go again, tumbling head over heels in the darkness and getting VERY ticked off. I must not want to play anymore, because this time I wake up.

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## oneironut

*Intersea Hwy
Friday, December 08, 2006*

The dawn wind is especially biting at the end of the pier, a hundred feet up and a quarter mile from shore. Eric and I stand close at the railing, huddled beneath our heavy coats and hoods, quietly reminiscing about the childhood years when we were best friends.

The turbulent water below is clear as glass, and I notice a shape moving just beneath the surface. At first I think its a shark, but then I see that it is a whale, a massive beast with marbled blue-gray skin, gliding slowly with the current. Hundreds of other whales trail behind the first. Then come the sharks, sleek silver torpedo shapes darting through the water, spinning to expose their bone white bellies, circling the whales but not attacking. The orcas follow, lined up in orderly ranks like an army on the march, orcas of every size, each one with a unique pattern of black and white skin coloration. 

I look to the north where these creatures are coming from, and I cant see an end to the line.

Eric and I watch this mass migration in silence, awed by its beauty and frightened by its implications.

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## oneironut

*A Good Night&#39;s Rest
Saturday, December 09, 2006, 3:15 a.m.*

Its a few hours before sunrise, and I havent slept much at all. I lay curled up in a ball with no covers, and my body aches no matter what position I try to rest in. After a few moments of pointless tossing and turning, I open the rear passenger door and crawl out of the backseat of my car.

The concrete is ice cold beneath my bare feet. Shivering, I do a little hop skip dance to the open garage door and stare out at the dark and silent street of a neighborhood I dont live in anymore. I just know there was a good reason for trying to spend my nights in my garage, but damned if I can think of it now.

I see the faint glow of approaching headlights from down the street. A big black pickup truck drives in front of my house and starts to slow. Its windows are tinted so I cant see the driver, and theres a bulky object covered with a plastic tarp in the rear bed. I suddenly become very awake and alert. This must be what I was camping out here for. Now what am I supposed to do? Am I ready for this?

I feel both relief and disappointment when the truck continues past my house and turns into the driveway next to mine. Just the neighbor. Must be drunk, too, because he starts his turn late, hops the curb, and drives over half of his yard before pulling into his garage.

Ah, to hell with this&#33; I dont care if I had the best reasons in the world for doing this, Im going to go sleep in my own bed like a normal person. I stab the button for the garage door and go inside. Now if only I could remember exactly where my bedroom was in this place

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## Vex Kitten

Hey there. 

Finally got the time to relax and check out your dream journal. Lovely batch of dreams you&#39;ve got so far. And your writing is even lovlier. Reading each dream was like reading a mini novel.   ::content::

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## oneironut

Hey Vex, thanks for visiting and for the kind comments. I&#39;ve been playing with fiction since fourth grade and tend to turn most things I write into a story. Those grocery lists are a bitch to get right.   ::wink::  

Cheers&#33;

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## oneironut

*Something in the Water
Sunday, December 10, 2006, 2:39 a.m.*

Ive been in the ocean for hours, diving beneath the waves or letting the swells carry me up until I catch some air. Im starting to tire and decide its time to head on in. I look for Eric and see him swimming a hundred feet away. He shows no sign of quitting. The water is waist-deep and the current is strong, so I have a difficult time making my way to shore. I see a large number of people entering the water, and somehow the sight reminds me of _Jaws_. Sharksand Im in waist-deep water. I panic and rush to get out of the ocean, not relaxing until the water is down to my ankles. Lets see you get me now, I think.

Back on shore, I have no idea where the rest of our group is. The sand is literally covered with sunbathers, ice chests, and beach umbrellas. Ive been in the ocean so long I could have drifted up or down the coast a ways. I slowly walk along the shore until I find our spot. The rest of the group consists of Erics mother, his younger brother Neil, and a woman I dont recognize who has two little daughters.

At first I think Neil is just dozing and getting some sun, but I look closer and see that he looks very sick. His skin is pale and waxy, and hes twitching and moaning weakly. Erics mother starts asking me how I feel among other things, but her speech gradually becomes a garbled mess. I pick out a word that sounds like salmonella, or at least it starts with s and ends with la. I start to get afraid that Ill catch the sickness too, that maybe there is something in the water thats going to infect us all. But I feel just finebetter than fine, in fact. My swim has left me strong and invigorated.

I look at Eric and Neils mother, and instead of worry or concern I see only rage in her expression. Her voice is still garbled, but its getting louder and angrier. The other woman holds her daughters close to her and glares at me in silence. They think Im the cause of it, that somehow Im spreading this sickness. Im even more frightened than before, because they just might be right.

Something in the water, I thought before. And I was in the water for a long, long time.

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## Twoshadows

I agree with Vex Kitten that you have a wonderful writing style.

And you have interesting dreams too. I especially liked your ocean/whale dreams. 

I have always loved my whale dreams because I have always wanted to see whales close up in real life, and in each whale dream I am thinking I am finally getting my chance.

Anyway, keep it up. I&#39;ll enjoy reading more.

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## oneironut

Hi Twoshadows, thank you for the nice compliments. It really pleases me to know that somebody&#39;s reading and enjoying the work. Makes it easier, too.

I love ocean dreams also, probably even more so now that I don&#39;t have so much as a drop of ocean water within 500 miles of me.   ::bigteeth::  As far as I can remember, this was the first time whales have made a significant appearance in my dreams; usually it&#39;s just sharks, especially the infamous "great white in the swimming pool." I&#39;d really like to see dolphins, though. Maybe I&#39;ll get lucky tonight now that I&#39;m going to hit the hay with dolphins on my mind.

Take care&#33;

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## oneironut

I only remember an amusing fragment from last night&#39;s dreams. I was in trouble and calling out for help from Superman, only to discover that he now operated like a business (complete with storefront) and had too much of a backlog to help me in time. Must be difficult to find good staff for a gig like that.

This afternoon I&#39;ll post a second full dream from Sunday that I didn&#39;t have time to write up, a dark little bit of petty revenge.   ::evil::

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## oneironut

*A Lesson in Humility
Sunday, December 10, 2006*

Unseen and unheard, I arrive at the high school campus in my own unique way. The storm is already dissipating but I can see the next front approaching rapidly from the mountains. I don’t have much time.

It’s in between classes and the schoolyard is full of students milling about. I zip up my black windbreaker and blend into the crowd. It doesn’t take long to find who I’m looking for. He comes swaggering along with his retinue, corn-fed muscle and homecoming king good looks hiding the cruel arrogance underneath.  I have no idea who he is, but he’s definitely going to be the one.

I abruptly step in front of my guy, all smiles, and say “I bet I’m stronger than you.”

He and his friends are already moving around me, eyeing me with the amused contempt usually reserved for a little dog that’s piddled all over itself. My guy needs some motivation. He suddenly finds himself eye to eye with Ben Franklin as I dangle the bill before him. The wager is made. The wind starts to pick up.

We sit facing each other at a wooden picnic table, arms locked and ready to wrestle. He goes for a quick victory, probably hoping to impress his buddies by sending the skinny kid flying, but my arm doesn’t move. Literally doesn’t move so much as a millimeter. I can’t even feel his efforts. His face is turning  an unhealthy shade of purple, though, and I realize I’m falling out of character, so I let my arm slowly sink to the right and pretend to struggle in a performance that won’t win me any awards.

The fading sunlight and howling wind signals the storm’s arrival. Too bad…I was enjoying myself. I quickly swing my arm over to the left, holding back just enough to keep from breaking the picnic table—and my guy’s arm—in half. As he and his friends stare in mute shock, I casually mention that I’ll have to come back another time for my winnings.

Just as the rain starts to fall, I unzip my black windbreaker. It blows open from the wind, begins to grow and spread. I spiral up into the air like a dark bird rising on a thermal. My guy’s friends are already screaming and running across the schoolyard, but he just sits there staring and cradling his arm as I depart the way I came.

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## oneironut

Here are this morning&#39;s fragments, with a full dream entry coming this afternoon. The recall is improving; this is the first time I&#39;ve been able to remember at least a few details from most of my dreams instead of just one or two.

1 - Attending a classic video game convention. The designers are playing their own games and they stink at them.

2 - Lounging on a grassy hill with most of my friends from high school. One of them is trying to hit a large wooden ball up the hill with a golf club.

3 - Facing off with a mobster who has taken the form of an old book (WTF???) I manage to get a hold of his gun, although I&#39;m not sure how he would have used it on me if I hadn&#39;t. 

4 - Me vs. a couple dozen toughs in a nondescript corridor. I win.

5 - A series of still images of Sylar (the villain from _Heroes_) tearing someone&#39;s brain out. Glad it wasn&#39;t full motion, it was quite gory and horrific.

6 - I&#39;m living in a large house with several roommates, including an obnoxious roommate from college. He starts doing his usual crap and I yell at him just like I did in RL. Felt just as good, too.

7 - On a city street, a short asian woman and a tall black woman, both elderly, meet for the first time. The tall lady is wearing an old bowler hat. They&#39;re going to be partners in an important project, and go shuffling off together to get started.

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## Twoshadows

> A Lesson in Humility
> Sunday, December 10, 2006[/b]



I love it. What a great dream.  ::D:

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## Oneironaut Zero

> I love it. What a great dream. 
> [/b]



Heh. I agree. That _was_ great.  ::goodjob2:: 
Nice journal so far, oneironut.

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## oneironut

Twoshadows & Oneironaut - Thanks guys, I&#39;m glad you both enjoyed it. I guess my brain thought the journal wasn&#39;t complete without at least one dream of kicking ass in a billowing black coat.   ::wink::

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## oneironut

*Hit Em Where It Hurts
Tuesday, December 12, 2006, 2:31 a.m.*

I enter the bank dressed in an expensive charcoal gray suit and black leather gloves. The lobby is all cold elegance: marble floor and walls, sleek modern furniture, pale flowers arranged in abstract vases. In my head I hear the voice of a woman with a vague European accent. She explains to me that this bank caters to very special clients who prefer their transactions go unnoticed. She says in an almost defensive tone that the bank helps its clients, turns a reasonable profit, and leaves everybody happy. Im not happy at all, but Im about to be.

The lobby opens into the cathedral-like expanse of the banks main room. I spot the door to the vault behind the row of teller windows. It looks to be seven feet high, several feet thick, and is currently closed and locked. Without a word of protest from any of the staff, I walk around the counter, step up to the vault door, and punch it off its hinges with both hands.

Stepping over the toppled door, Im surprised to find myself in an antechamber rather than the vault itself. Sitting at a counter are two female receptionists and a male security guard. They dont seem very disturbed by my loud entrance, but act almost as if they know me. Just past them is another vault door, this one even larger and thicker than the first. I point at each of the three bank employees and order them to follow me.

I punch the second vault door off its hinges also, but it doesnt fall over. The corridor beyond is so small that the door remains wedged in place. Not to be deterred, I shove my way into the corridor, the broken vault door digging deep gouges in the walls as I push it ahead of me. The three employees follow close behind.

After several hundred feet, the corridor opens into a space large enough for the door to fall over. When I see the room beyond, all I can think is what a sham this luxurious bank really is. The vault, if you can call it that, is little more than a shabby storeroom with crumpled bundles of money stacked haphazardly on metal shelves. I find a yellow duffel bag and start stuffing it with money. I dont care how much money I take, and have no interest in it for myself. I just dont want _them_ to have it.

Harsh voices drift down the corridor. It sounds like some real security has finally arrived. Because theyve been so cooperative, I tell the three employees theyre free to go and invite them to take some of the remaining money for themselves. I zip up the duffel bag and start to think about how Im going to get out of here. When I find my escape route, it just reminds me of what a sloppy outfit Im dealing with. After all, what kind of reputable bank would have a vault with a side door? I kick through this door easily and start down a dimly lit stairwell. I figure it will lead to a maintenance tunnel or something. What it leads to, however, is a dead end.

The harsh voices are coming from the top of the stairwell now. I feel surprisingly cool and collected, and cant help but laugh at my bad luck. Hefting the duffel bag over my shoulder, I calmly start back up.


_Note: I can&#39;t remember for certain, but I believe today&#39;s fragment #4 (see earlier post) was a continuation of this dream after I fell back to sleep. I&#39;d like to think so, because then it means I made my getaway after all._  ::bigteeth::

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## oneironut

Hooray for backups&#33;   ::wink::  

*Rude Awakening
Thursday, December 14, 2006, 12:25 a.m.
*
This bed is huge and very comfortable, but it would be even nicer with a full set of bedding. Im curled up on a bare mattress with no pillow and nothing but a single thin sheet to cover me. Still, the mattress is so soft that I find myself drifting off happily.

Half-asleep, I suddenly hear a group of voices chatting away in exaggerated stage whispers. It sounds like a whole tour group has come into my bedroom in the middle of the night, perhaps to observe me in my native habitat. I try to ignore them, but the voices just keep droning on and finally I open my eyes. Arranged in a half-circle around the foot of my massive bed are several ladies from work, an old high school friend, a tall kid in his early twenties that I recognize as a roommate from a couple years back, and another young man whos a total stranger.

As I glare at them with bleary eyes, the group prattles on about how odd I look when I sleep, all curled up in a ball like that. A few of them even pull back the sheet to observe firsthand. Thankfully Im dressed for winter in sweats and a t-shirt, so Im only annoyed by their rudeness rather than mortified by my exposure. The look on my face apparently conveys the nonverbal equivalent of Get the fuck out, because the group does exactly that. For a few moments I hear the muffled sounds of people settling in for the night in other parts of the housedoors closing, sinks and toilets running, the click of light switchesbefore everything is completely dark and silent.

And I cant sleep now. Dammit.

After a round of tossing and turning, I decide to do a little wandering of my own. My bedroom is at the end of a long hallway that stretches off to my right. To my immediate left is a landing that gives me a wide view of the first floor. God, this place is huge&#33; Not mansion huge; were talking football stadium huge. The main staircase branches off at several points, leading to long halls lined with doors. I notice light coming from underneath more than a few of them.

Just as I start to get a little excited at the thought of living in this giant, complex maze of a house, a realization hits me from out of nowhere: Im renting again. Oh crap, I must have sold my own house and now Im sharing a place with roommates&#33; And exactly how many roommates are there, I wonder? The rent on a palace like this must be insane, and I saw a lot of bedroom doors in a lot of hallways.

Im overwhelmed by feelings of depression and self-loathing as I make my way back to my bedroom. Or try to, at any rate. I went down so many halls and staircases that Im completely lost now.

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## oneironut

*Crumbling Hope
Friday, December 15, 2006, 1:09 a.m.*

Nobody knows who they are because nobodys seen them. Bug-eyed aliens, ghosts, a heartless human regimetake your pick. It doesnt matter anyway. The rules in this brave new world are simple, precise, and implacable: if youre outside, they can see you; if you dont take adequate precautions, they can hear your thoughts; if they dont like what youre thinking, they make you go away.

Im out on the street, a member of the resistance carrying the possible salvation of our movement in my shoulder bag and thinking very bad thoughts. Across the intersection is an old fast food restaurant. I immediately rush for the door, but stop when I recognize the place. No, that buildings been compromised, have to find somewhere else.

I turn and see another storefront, looks like an insurance agents office. I step inside and immediately feel at least a little safer. Theres a young woman, pale and bedraggled, hiding under a desk. I sit against the wall facing her and rest for a moment. We dont talk and she doesnt come out from under the desk.

Through the window I see several figures dressed in black run by. Thats my group, the one I took this foolish risk to meet. With a silent farewell to the poor girl, I leave the office and catch up with them. I kneel down on the sidewalk as they stand in a circle around me, leaning forward so that their heads are touching. Not much of a shield, but it will last enough for me to show them what Ive brought. I open my shoulder bag and take out an object wrapped in white tissue paper. I fold the tissue back and we all stare at the object.

Its a large chocolate chip cookie, broken into four neat wedge-shaped pieces. With nuts.

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## Krista

I wasn&#39;t expecting the cookie at all, lol. Very strange indeed.

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## oneironut

> I wasn&#39;t expecting the cookie at all, lol.
> [/b]



You and me both.   ::bigteeth::

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## Oneironaut Zero

> Its a large chocolate chip cookie, broken into four neat wedge-shaped pieces. With nuts.
> [/b]



Hahaha. 
Priceless.  ::chuckle::

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## oneironut

*Rotten Luck All Around
Saturday, December 16, 2006*

My car stalls as Im making a left turn through an intersection. I have enough momentum to finish the turn, but Im slowing fast and cant tell if the right lane is clear enough for me to pull over, so I just turn on the flashers and hope for the best. Thankfully I reach the curb without a collision.

After taking a moment to calm down, I turn the ignition key but nothing happens. I push down on the gas pedal and try again, still no luck. Through the windshield I see a rough looking man walking towards my side of the car. Im not too worried, but I glance quickly to make sure my door is locked.

Sure enough, the man suddenly lunges forward and tries to open my door. When he discovers its locked, he keeps tugging on the door handle and yelling a bunch of gibberish. I almost find the sight amusing. I mean, maybe you should try jacking a car thats _operational_, moron.

The engine finally turns over and runs steadily. I give a sarcastic salute to my would-be assailant and put the pedal to the floor. The car starts forwardat about 2 miles per hour. The carjacker keeps pace with me at a light jog, still tugging mindlessly at the door handle.

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## oneironut

*One Tough Chipmunk
Sunday, December 17, 2006*

Im watching some sort of television program or movie, only instead of viewing it on a screen Im actually hovering as an unseen presence right in the middle of the action. A small group of soldiers are fleeing through a snow-covered forest towards a river. The dark shapes of the pursuing enemy are clearly visible in the near distance. They call out to each other in a foreign language I dont recognize.

Suddenly a lone figure breaks away from the fleeing soldiers and runs south along the river bank while the rest push on towards the water. At first I think this soldier is wearing a fur coat, but on closer inspection I see that he is dressed like a giant chipmunk, complete with a thick tail that swings rhythmically as he ducks beneath branches and jumps over fallen logs. I guess this is some pathetic attempt at a diversion to draw the enemy away from the rest of the soldiers. Pathetic or not, the tactic seems to work. Most of the enemy troops veer south in pursuit of the chipmunk man, while his compatriots safely enter the river.

My perspective shifts over to the fleeing chipmunk man. Its as if he has adopted the dexterity of the creature hes dressed as, because hes running at incredible speed, moving over, under, or around any and all obstacles without slowing down. But just when I think hes going to make it, I hear the faint chatter of a machine gun and a ragged line of bloody holes suddenly appears across his furry chest.  Still carried forward by his momentum, the chipmunk man stumbles, spins, and falls face up in the river. A bloody cloud trails behind the body as it drifts slowly downstream.

Im saddened by this strange mans death, but I remind myself that his sacrifice was for the sake of his comrades. My perspective swings back to them, and Im suddenly furious. Those sons of bitches _have not moved_&#33; Theyre about ten feet out from where they entered the river, just paddling around like a bunch of kids in the community pool. When the enemy soldiers arrive a few seconds later, these losers simply wade out of the river and surrender without a fight.

Im so angry that Im ready to give up on this whole stupid program, but my perspective shifts one more time. Theres the corpse of the chipmunk man again, floating downstream with arms outspreadarms that suddenly lift up from the river, swing back and down into the water, then forward to his sides from beneath the surface. I also notice the churning water by his feet, and I cant help but laugh as the not-so-dead chipmunk man leisurely backstrokes his way to freedom.

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## oneironut

> Hahaha. 
> Priceless. 
> [/b]



Lol, yes, definitely high on my list of "WTF?" dream moments.

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## oneironut

*Boogeyman?
Monday, December 18, 2006*

I’m in a room with two women and a quiet, friendly-faced man with sandy brown hair. In a pleasant tone of voice, the man says that he’s going to kill all of us and pulls a sawed-off shotgun from his coat. We attack him together and a clumsy melee ensues. At one point I’m practically looking down the barrels of the shotgun. The man’s cheerful expression never changes.

The three of us finally overpower him and get him down on the floor. I have the shotgun in my hands and the man’s arms pinned under my knees. Staring down at him, I realize what I’m going to have to do to stop him for good. I aim the shotgun at that friendly face and pull the trigger.

The two women and I leave the room, sick and shaking and relieved to be alive. We try to calm down and work out what we’re going to tell the authorities. But it turns out we have an even bigger problem, because when I go back to the room we fought in I discover the man’s body is gone.

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## oneironut

*Friday Night at the Sail-In
Tuesday, December 19, 2006*

The surf swirls around our feet as some friends and I make our way along the coast to go see a movie. After a relaxing walk we move inland over some sand dunes and find ourselves at the entrance to the drive-in theater. Its only then that we realize how stupid it is to go to a drive-in on foot, but it turns out were in luck. The entire parking lot is filled with an old sailing ship of dark weathered wood, larger than the largest galleon or man-o&#39;-war.

The movie-going crowd is boarding the ship via heavy ropes hanging down the side of its hull. When I pull myself on deck, I see that the ships masts have been outfitted with dozens of wooden platforms holding theater seats, a great many of which are already taken. My friends and I are forced to split up because we cant find a large enough group of empty seats. After a bit of climbing Im able to find a spot for myself on one of the upper platforms at the ships stern. Looks like Ill have a great view of the show, too, as theres a massive screen less than a few hundred feet to port.

I then find out from the person sitting next to me that the screen showing our movie is actually way off the starboard bow. Its so far away that it looks not much larger than a small television screen. I scramble to find a better seat before the show starts, but the view of the screen is blocked by rope or sail at every empty seat I find.

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## oneironut

*Three Points
Wednesday, December 20, 2006*

Im attending some sort of fitness camp, and today were competing in a football kicking contest. Im lounging in the grass and watching a young woman make her attempt. Her first kick isnt too bad, although the distance doesnt seem to justify the wild applause she receives from the rest of the group. She makes a big mistake on her second try, though. The ball barely comes off the tee before dribbling to a stop a few feet away.

Patrick Stewart distracts me for a moment when he walks up and asks if I have change for a five. Im surprised at how much cash Ive got in my wallet, but every bill is a five or higher, so I have to disappoint him. He thanks me anyway and moves on to ask someone else.

The camp counselor announces that its my turn to kick now. As I get up from the grass I notice that the ball has been set up at the opposite end of the field. It is now so close to a nearby wall that I wont have any room to run before kicking. I realize that for some reason the counselor has a grudge against me and is trying to rig the contest so that Ill lose.

I consider making an official complaint, but decide on a better course of action. Getting into position, I take two short running steps and send that damned football on a nonstop flight. It easily clears the length of the field and the fence encircling it before dropping out of sight down a brush-covered slope.

With a straight face, I ask the camp counselor if the extra distance will be included in my score. Another counselor positioned at the fence gives me a sour look before climbing the chain link to go hunt for the ball.

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## oneironut

*Playing Possum
Thursday, December 21, 2006*

The family gathering is more enjoyable than I thought it would be. Were all in the living room of my uncles house, talking about nothing in particular, eating, passing around photos, watching television. Ive got the couch all to myself, within arms reach of the snack trays, and Im feeling wonderfully lazy.

Then some hyperactive teenage girl bursts into the room, looking like she crawled from the pages of a 1950s yearbook. She isnt family or even a friend, so who the hell let her in? The girl starts clapping her hands and announces that were going to play a game now, so everybody follow her&#33; The rest of the family reluctantly obeys. I turn over on my side, curl up, and pretend to sleep.

Only when the noise dies down do I turn back over and continue enjoying the afternoon, although its not much of a family gathering anymore since Im the only family left in the room. I occasionally see the others through the window as they go running around in the backyard, the girl leading them along and chattering nonstop. I have to repeat my possum routine more than once when the mob circles back to the living room.

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## oneironut

*Friday, December 22, 2006*

*Ye Olde Treasure Hunt - 12:41 a.m.*

Without using my arms or legs to swim, I streak like a rocket along the ocean floor. I must be close to land because the water is only a couple hundred feet deep at this point, light blue and crystal clear. I come across an old shipwreck covered with coral. The entire wreck is as large as a toy model. I stick my fingers in what openings I can find and manage to pry out a few tiny wooden chests, but there’s nothing in them but scraps of parchment and flakes of rust.

After searching a few more wrecks with similar results, I suddenly hit an air pocket and fall a few feet to the sandy bottom. The air pocket is perfectly square; it’s as if I’m standing in a room where the walls and ceiling are built of shimmering water. The air pocket starts to rise to the surface, carrying me along with it, and I hear a disembodied voice speaking in what sounds like 19th Century English. The voice orders me to cease plundering the shipwrecks and concentrate on my other duties.



*The Ghost of Christmas Presents Past*

I’m lying on the floor in the doorway of my home office, with my legs in the office and the rest of me in the hallway. My father steps over me and sits at my computer desk. He’s talking about my life and the person I am. I can’t make out his words clearly, but I get the impression that what he’s saying is positive. “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2 starts playing on my computer.

I stand up and walk into the living room. There’s an elaborate Christmas display in the corner by my couch, with a tinsel-covered tree and lots of fake snow. Looking out the window, I see my home is now on top of a hill, and spread out below is a small one-street town. The one building that stands out to me is an old-fashioned diner decorated with Christmas lights.

Turning back to the living room display, I’m delighted to see that it’s been decorated with many toys from my childhood. There’s the Incredible Hulk, Luke Skywalker, Yoda and many others, looking just as new as the day I received them.



*Star Wars Beach*

With their trademark hum, lightsabers clash as I fight for my life against Darth Vader. Even though I’ve gotten used to Vader after years of movies, comics, and toys, he’s actually scary as hell when he’s right in your face and trying to cut you in half. My lightsaber blade is the same red color as his.

A pair of stormtroopers armed with lightsabers enter the fray on Vader’s side, which I find hilarious because they don’t know how to use those weapons and will likely kill themselves before they even get close to me. I quickly dismember one myself and use Vader’s own lightsaber to kill the other by parrying one of his attacks so that his blade goes slicing through the trooper’s neck.

After a brief exchange of blows, I finally manage to kill Vader. Standing over his smoking corpse, I wonder if I’ve become the hero or just another villain. The Emperor suddenly appears, cackling at me and giving the same tired old speech about “fulfilling your destiny,” blah blah blah. I consider fulfilling _his_ destiny—from the neck up—but I’m sure he’s prepared for that and actually wants me to try it. Instead I just ignore him and walk out of the room.

I find myself on the main street of Laguna Beach, California, where I lived as a boy. Although all of the landmarks look just like I remember them, it’s as if the Star Wars universe has been slapped over the city. The crowds of pedestrians are a mix of regular people, droids, and aliens. Looking up, I see an extra sun and several moons, including a planetoid that looks just like Earth and takes up most of the sky.

----------


## oneironut

I slept very soundly last night and can only remember a few fragments:

1 - I&#39;m in a high school class with R sitting at the desk next to me. I&#39;m so happy to see her again that I don&#39;t mind being back in school. The teacher hands back our tests. I can&#39;t tell exactly what grade I received, but there are a lot of marks on my paper and they don&#39;t look good.

2 - I&#39;m at a casino where some sort of flashy game show is being filmed. I start hopping from table to table, making a mess of everything and waiting for someone to try and stop me. Nobody does.

3 - Some tough-looking teenager keeps threatening me. I try to ignore him, but he keeps showing up wherever I go. I finally slam him against a wall, lift him up by the neck one-handed, and make some harsh threats of my own while he gasps for air.

----------


## oneironut

*Excessive Force
Sunday, December 24, 2006*

Its the classic theres somebody outside trying to get me scenario. The phone doesnt work and I cant get the door to stay locked. I finally decide to make a run for my car. The coast appears to be clear when I step outside. Just when I reach my car and start to open the door, my attacker appears on the other side. Hes a vague figure with a nondescript face, but theres nothing vague about the shiny nickel-plated pistol hes holding.

Were too close for him to miss, but thankfully he does exactly that, not just once but several times. Without thinking, I tear off my car door, dodge around to my attackers side of the car, and fling it at him like a frisbee. The door spins low and clips him in the ankles, sending him to the ground and the pistol tumbling to my feet. 

I quickly pick up the gun and approach my attacker. I dont want to shoot him; I only want to incapacitate him enough for me to get away. Just as hes getting back to his feet, I pistol whip him twice in the face. As he falls back to the ground, I realize I hit him too hard. His already nondescript face is now little more than a bloody pulp. I feel a little guilty about this, but only a little.

----------


## Vex Kitten

Like the SW dream. I&#39;ve never encountered Vader in a dream yet, not that I can remember. I&#39;d love to face off with him some time. And using a car door as a weapon? Genius. I&#39;d never have thought of that. Great dreams man.   ::content::

----------


## oneironut

> Like the SW dream. I&#39;ve never encountered Vader in a dream yet, not that I can remember. I&#39;d love to face off with him some time. And using a car door as a weapon? Genius. I&#39;d never have thought of that. Great dreams man.  
> [/b]



Thanks&#33; The car door trick will be a tough dreamsign to recognize because I, you know, do that sort of thing every day.   ::?:

----------


## Twoshadows

> Star Wars Beach[/b]



Too cool....Great dream. I love SW dreams but don&#39;t have them nearly often enough. It is somewhat satisfying to read about others&#39; SW dreams...but I am still a bit envious.  ::D:  





> I tear off my car door, dodge around to my attackers side of the car, and fling it at him like a frisbee. The door spins low and clips him in the ankles, sending him to the ground and the pistol tumbling to my feet. [/b]



Also very cool.


Haha...I see that Vex made comments on the same dreams.  Either we think alike or those are the two very most interesting things you&#39;ve dreamed lately.  ::sheepishgrin::

----------


## oneironut

Hi Twoshadows, good to see you back on Page 1 with the rest of us fanatics.   ::wink::  





> Too cool....Great dream. I love SW dreams but don&#39;t have them nearly often enough. It is somewhat satisfying to read about others&#39; SW dreams...but I am still a bit envious. [/b]



Thanks, I think that one came about from a clever video about Darth Vader that I stumbled across recently. If you haven&#39;t seen it, it&#39;s pretty funny and worth a watch: Vader Sessions




> Also very cool.
> Haha...I see that Vex made comments on the same dreams.  Either we think alike or those are the two very most interesting things you&#39;ve dreamed lately. 
> [/b]



I vote for "both of the above."   ::bigteeth::

----------


## Vex Kitten

All of the above and it may be a classic case of great minds thinking alike. 
 ::chuckle::

----------


## oneironut

Vex - Haha, true, true.

*Pen Name
Tuesday, December 26, 2006*

The small town bookstore is flooded with customers. Im standing behind the counter and watching the scene as an outside observer, but when I see the staff cant handle the crowd I step up to help.

The next person in line is a strange little man whos just staring off into nowhere. After I try to get his attention several times, he tells me in a quiet voice that hes looking for the Book of Genesis. Instead of just directing him to the bibles, I actually try to do a title/author search on the computer, but I get tripped up over what exactly I should type into the author search box.

----------


## oneironut

Hmm...recall seems to be declining a bit. I only remember a fragment of a dream taking place in a classroom that was half school and half work. My boss was the teacher, and she was giving me a whole bunch of work tasks while everybody else took a test.

I think I&#39;m falling into my old trap of trying too hard and thinking too much. When I first experimented with LDing and dream recall years ago, I learned that too much conscious intent (especially at night) hindered rather than helped me. Techniques like MILD and WILD were a total washout. My methods then were a lot like the classic creative process: saturation during the day (study and practice) and incubation at night (stop thinking and do nothing), hopefully leading to illumination (dream recall and LDs). I realize now that I&#39;ve been overdoing the saturation phase and have substituted the incubation phase with even more saturation. Time to adjust my methods and get back into my old habits.

----------


## oneironut

I&#39;m not going to count this as a lucid entry, but early this morning I had my first real brush with lucidity in many years. Almost missed it completely, too, because it was sandwiched between two very nonlucid dream scenes. Thankfully it was a vivid enough image for me to remember it after I woke up.

As I indicated in my previous entry, I changed methods yesterday, or rather I went back to the old method from my LDing heyday. It basically involves nothing more than thinking "This is a dream" consistently during the day, a much simpler version of the old Tibetan method of perceiving everything as a dream (in other words, an experience created by your brain). Reality checks as a means of _inducing_ LDs does not work well for me; I&#39;m such a heavy daydreamer in RL that it&#39;s just not in my wiring to question the odd nature of what I&#39;m seeing while dreaming. But if I can get myself to say or think "This is a dream" while I&#39;m dreaming, that&#39;s usually enough to become lucid. Reality checks are only a means of _confirmation_ before I go do something that could embarrass and/or kill myself.

Today&#39;s entry does not count as fully lucid, but it&#39;s still a promising step forward. And as far as I can remember, it&#39;s the first time I&#39;ve said the L word in _any_ dream.   :smiley: 


*Boing&#33;
Thursday, December 28, 2006, 5:30 a.m.*

Ive been running around a live-action version of a first-person shooter game when I find myself in what looks like an open air basketball court in the middle of a mountainous jungle. The sky is vividly blue and filled with billowy white clouds. I suddenly think to myself this is a dream and jump a few feet into the air. I keep jumping and telling myself this is a dream, going a little higher each time. At one point I jump a full twenty feet, tell myself this is a lucid dream, and start spinning in midair. But the full significance of what Im saying and doing never hits me, and the scene soon changes to me beating up an obnoxious cowboy in some honkytonk bar.

----------


## Twoshadows

Very good.   ::goodjob2::   That sounds very close to me. I hope you continue to get good results from this new (old ) method.





> and jump a few feet into the air. I keep jumping and telling myself this is a dream, going a little higher each time. At one point I jump a full twenty feet, [/b]



 And that is so fun to do in a dream. Very cool.

----------


## oneironut

> Very good.    That sounds very close to me. I hope you continue to get good results from this new (old ) method.
> 
>  And that is so fun to do in a dream. Very cool.
> [/b]



Thanks&#33; I almost have more fun running and jumping in dreams than flying. With a few exceptions, flying feels fake to me, obviously due to my lack of waking experience.   ::wink::

----------


## oneironut

Ugh, very little sleep last night. All I could dredge up was a school dream full of almost every cliche you can think of. At least the bully didn&#39;t show up to pound the stuffing out of me.

In the past two days I&#39;ve gone back through my DJ and listed the dreamsigns for each entry. There are some very clear trends to start paying attention to. I now have hardcopy on my bedside table to review during the day and before I sleep.

I&#39;m so annoyed over having yet another school dream that I didn&#39;t even want to try for a creative title.

*
Yet Another School Dream
Friday, December 29, 2006*

Im back in high school, Im late for class, and I have no idea what that class is or what room its in. But at least I have some iced tea in a clear plastic container thats about four feet long. Awkward to carry, but great value for the money.

I randomly choose a classroom and it happens to be the correct one. Based on the posters on the walls, Im guessing history. The only empty desk is sandwiched between Brian and Roberts, old friends from high school and two of the greatest smartasses that ever walked the earth. As I sit down I remember all the stealth jokes these two played in past classes and realize Im not going to be very productive today. Especially since I dont have my textbook and cant even remember if there was an assignment due.

----------


## Twoshadows

> Thanks&#33; I almost have more fun running and jumping in dreams than flying. With a few exceptions, flying feels fake to me, obviously due to my lack of waking experience.  
> [/b]



I have flown in so many dreams now--that the flying sensation seems so real to me. When I think about flying I feel like I have very real memories of flying...just like I have real memories of riding a bike. Intersting how certain things that you experience over and over in a dream become almost a real memory.

----------


## oneironut

> I have flown in so many dreams now--that the flying sensation seems so real to me. When I think about flying I feel like I have very real memories of flying...just like I have real memories of riding a bike. Intersting how certain things that you experience over and over in a dream become almost a real memory.
> [/b]



I agree that practice makes perfect in dreams as much as real life. Just in this past month of journaling and trying for LDs, I had a flying dream that felt considerably more "real" than such dreams usually are for me. I think that once I get back to LDing regularly, I&#39;ll be clear-headed enough to convert some real life experiences--taking off in a plane, riding a roller coaster--into more realistic flights.
---------

Ok, yesterday I put together a list of my most frequent dreamsigns...then proceeded to ignore them throughout the night.   ::bigteeth::  Today&#39;s entry was very surreal and disturbingly violent to me, but still noteworthy because it&#39;s the first time I&#39;ve taken an animal form without feeling like I was just a man in a funny costume.

*A Wolf in Wolfs Clothing
Saturday, December 30, 2006*

The elevators metal door is not polished enough to provide a clear view, but I can see enough to realize that Im a giant wolf. The blurry reflection in the door is tall and heavily muscled with pointed ears and a long snout. Im standing upright on my rear paws.

The elevator door opens at the ground floor to reveal a man waiting to get aboard. Tearing through him with a snarl, I sprint across the lobby and out into the night. The landscape is all rolling green hills. There are dozens of bonfires scattered about, with human figures gathered around each one. Alternating between running on all fours and running upright, I move from bonfire to bonfire attacking anything around me. The human figures are more like illustrations than living beings. Their skin rips like paper and their bodies contain only a thick liquid that has the color and consistency of paint.

I eventually find myself in a small wooded clearing. Another group of these strange artificial people is waiting for me; their elaborate designs suggest they are authority figures of some sort. They are not afraid of me, and in fact appear quite angry. As I approach them, they tell me that my actions have upset a vital balance in the world. A part of me is saddened by this news. The rest of me is still hungry.

----------


## Twoshadows

> I think that once I get back to LDing regularly, I&#39;ll be clear-headed enough to convert some real life experiences--taking off in a plane, riding a roller coaster--into more realistic flights.[/b]



Yes&#33;  I know that has helped me. I even made a list of them a few months ago in my dream journal. I think this link will get you to the right page. If not, it is the Sept 17th entry 6:32am.


http://www.dreamviews.com/forum/index.php?...0422&st=150






> A Wolf in Wolfs Clothing[/b]



That was a pretty interesting dream. I have yet to experience something like that. Bet it was pretty intense.

----------


## oneironut

> http://www.dreamviews.com/forum/index.php?...0422&st=150
> [/b]



Heh, scrolled right past it before I remembered to adjust time zones. Great entry, although your cave story put knots in my stomach (reminded me of an unpleasant hike from the summer). I can see now why you experience flying so vividly in dreams. The recent dream I mentioned was very much like a jet taking off: flying low to the ground, then suddenly accelerating and angling up into the sky.





> That was a pretty interesting dream. I have yet to experience something like that. Bet it was pretty intense.
> [/b]



It was, and unsettling because of the violence (even against "fake" people). Still, having the strength and natural instinct of a wild animal was not unpleasant. I&#39;d like to have a similar dream again, only with the violence limited to rabbits and squirrels. Woof&#33;

----------


## oneironut

Well, it looks like I&#39;ve finally had my first true LD in years. Granted it lasted only a few seconds, but it was the first time I became lucid by noticing a dreamsign rather than mindlessly thinking "This is a dream" out of habit. As happy as I am, I&#39;m even more pleased that I don&#39;t have to spend my Sunday doing yard work, after all.   ::content::  


*Sorry, Wrong House (LD)
Sunday, December 31, 2006*

The sun is just starting to rise when I glance out my living room window and see a strange man approaching my doora neighbor, I assume. I dont want to talk to anybody this early in the morning, so I go to use the bathroom until he leaves. The toilet looks like it hasnt been cleaned in months.

After doing my business, I go back to the living room window. The man is gone, but its now light enough outside that I notice the front yard is yellowing and covered with weeds. I start to get depressed about the hours of yard work I have ahead of me when it occurs to me that something is not right. This cant be my front yard, or even my house, because I sold them both and moved out of state months ago. I realize that I must be dreaming, but immediately wake up.

----------


## BPolar

congrats&#33;



hey we both had an LD this morning&#33;

----------


## oneironut

> congrats&#33;
> hey we both had an LD this morning&#33;
> [/b]



Thanks, and congrats to you too&#33;  Hope yours lasted longer than mine, haha.

----------


## Vex Kitten

Helloooo&#33;

Congrats on the lucidity and Happy Newyear to you too.   ::content::  

Your dreams are always a wonderful read.

----------


## oneironut

Thanks Vex, that&#39;s always nice to hear.   :smiley:  

-----
Another dream about school today, and again I missed the obvious dreamsign (along with several others) even though I think about it often during the day. It&#39;s annoying, but I figure the more annoyed I get, the more determined I&#39;ll become to notice it in future dreams.

Also, I&#39;ve started keeping a goals list in my offline journal, which I&#39;ll include here as well. At this point I only have a pair of goals in place at any one time: a deadline to have my next lucid dream, and a simple task to perform. My goals are modest for now; the flying-kung-fu-extraterrestrial-sextravaganzas will have to wait.

*Goal 1 (12/31/06):* Have my next lucid dream by 1/7/07.
*Goal 2 (12/31/06):* In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself "This is a dream."


*Bad Chemistry
Monday, January 01, 2007*

The heavy blanket wrapped around me makes it difficult to walk, but I manage to be only a few minutes late for class. The instructor is my old high school chemistry teacher. As he lectures and draws a complex diagram on the blackboard, I find an empty desk and try to fold up my blanket as inconspicuously as possible. The teacher stops his lecture, walks over to my desk, and hands me a note. I cant entirely understand what hes saying, but its something about the school office not being able to find my student records.

Returning to the blackboard, the teacher starts asking random students to contribute information for the diagram. Everybody he calls on easily provides answers to his questions. I study the diagram and cant understand a bit of it. I hunch down in my seat and prepare for the inevitable humiliation of being called on.

The scene suddenly changes, and now Im sitting at a desk on the opposite side of the classroom. R is sitting at the desk behind mine. She gives me a friendly smile and that helps calm me down. The teacher is now a short woman I dont recognize. Shes dressed in a white lab coat, and her hair is so thin that I can see she has an oddly shaped skull. The teacher announces that were going to take a quiz, but were free to use our textbooks for it. I dont have a textbook with me, of course. My desk is very dusty and covered with litter. The teacher comments on this, but I try to laugh it off and point out that the dust was there to begin with.

Another sudden scene change. R and I are walking across the schoolyard together. We enter another classroom where I find my chemistry textbook. Now that Im better prepared for the quiz, we start back to class to take it.

----------


## Twoshadows

> Great entry, although your cave story put knots in my stomach (reminded me of an unpleasant hike from the summer). 
> [/b]



Ooo, so what happened on the hike...a cave?....rappelling?






> Well, it looks like I&#39;ve finally had my first true LD in years[/b]



Hey- that&#39;s great&#33; I&#39;m sure you will be having more soon.  :smiley:  






> Now that Im better prepared for the quiz, we start back to class to take it.[/b]



Looks like you were able to save yourself from several embarrassing/stressful moments. I&#39;ve noticed since learning to LD, I usually can "save" myself from the worst of my nightmares. It&#39;s been nice.

----------


## odds

> Im back in high school, Im late for class, and I have no idea what that class is or what room its in. But at least I have some iced tea in a clear plastic container thats about four feet long. Awkward to carry, but great value for the money.[/b]



That just cracked me up&#33; I love how one can rationalize almost ANYTHING when in the dreamworld-- "Oh, this 4 -foot iced tea bottle? Yeah, it&#39;s a new product. I like it, I never get thirsty&#33;"

Then again, though, it&#39;s unfortunate... Even when your Mom&#39;s got tentacles, you can never seem to lucidify&#33;

Good work, though, you&#39;re getting closer with each dream. I, too, am re-entering the realm of LD&#39;ing after 6 months or so of ignorance.

Keep it up&#33;

----------


## oneironut

Twoshadows - Nothing so exciting as a cave or rappelling, just a long hike in the hills near home that consisted of one part overconfidence and three parts stupidity. Thankfully I still hold the title for Luckiest Man Alive, so I got away with only some scrapes and sore muscles to show for it. Your dream reminded me of the moments during that little "adventure" when I thought maybe I was in some deep trouble.

odds - Hello and thanks for reading. That iced tea bottle was the highlight of my night. When I woke up I had a laugh imagining what the vending machine would look like.

-----------

*Cat Burglary
Tuesday, January 02, 2007, 1:09 a.m.*

Im standing in a brightly-lit, glass-walled room that is part lab and part cell. Theres a long table with several chairs in one corner. The room has no door, and beyond it are many corridors with spotless white walls. A creepy little man with dirty blond hair and a dark suit stands before me, asking questions that I refuse to answer. He finally gives up and leaves the room by passing his body through one of the walls. Now standing outside my cell, he turns back to look at me with a smug little smile.

Using only my mind, I pick up one of the chairs and send it flying in his direction. The chair isnt strong enough to break the glass, but it still manages to wipe the smile off the bastards face. As he hastily walks down the corridor that wraps around my cell, I keep throwing chairs so that they slam into the wall near him with every step he takes.

Once Im alone, I discover that the table is more than heavy enough to break through the glass. I step out of my cell and run down one of the corridors. After some random turns, I come across an extremely petite woman with short black hair and vaguely Filipino features. I realize that she is the reason I wound up here in the first place, that Im somehow supposed to protect her. Without a word I pick her up and go running back down the corridor in the direction I came. 

The woman goes into a frenzy trying to break free. As she struggles she changes into a humanoid creature with the head and paws of a cat, making her even more difficult to handle. I dont have time to try and rationalize with her, so I simply look into her eyes and mentally sedate her. She curls up into a ball and falls asleep in my arms, purring slightly.

I run from the corridor into a wide concourse that looks like the combination of an airport terminal and a heavily carpeted theater lobby. All around me are dozens of man-sized insects. They are truly horrible creatures: no eyes, multiple arms, covered with a dark green exoskeleton and dressed in tattered netting. Each one is carrying a cat creature similar to my own. I know for certain that they mean these creatures harm.

I feel uncomfortably exposed, so I try to blend into the crowd by stopping at a bank of arcade machines and pretending to watch some boys play them. The carpeted floor beside me suddenly bulges up and adjusts its shape until it becomes one of the insects. Holding out two of its arms, it tells me in a hissing voice that it will be glad to take the cat creature off my hands. I calmly inform it that Im not there, that it doesnt see me. The insect lowers its arms, looks around as if confused, and shuffles away. Just to be safe, I turn in a circle and mentally project the suggestion to every living thing around me.

The scene fades to darkness, and everything that happens from this point is narrated to me by a disembodied voice that sounds like my own. I cant see or feel anything, but I occasionally catch a glimpse of text against a white background, as if someone is holding a printed page in front of my face. This is the gist of what the voice tells me:

I manage to get the cat creature to my spaceship and escape. The ship, an asteroid-sized sphere, is very old and powerful; the tremendous energies that drive it are described to me in detail. When she emerges from her sedation, the cat creature is furious and refuses to have anything to do with me in spite of my attempts to explain the situation to her. Im left with nobody to talk to other than the ships computer. This turns out to be not such a bad thing, because the ship is very old and has traveled to many amazing places. The computer spends the first days of our voyage telling me its stories, always referring to itself in the third person and never boasting.

----------


## Twoshadows

> Thankfully I still hold the title for Luckiest Man Alive, so I got away with only some scrapes and sore muscles to show for it. [/b]



 Well, that&#39;s good. 






> one part overconfidence and three parts stupidity.[/b]



Been there, done that.






> Your dream reminded me of the moments during that little "adventure" when I thought maybe I was in some deep trouble.[/b]



Which dream? If you are referring to the cave experience, that was real life. And one of my "been there, done that" moments.






> Cat Burglary[/b]



 What an awesome dream&#33; And what cool powers you had. I love how the storyline continues on, and the complexity of it.

----------


## oneironut

> Which dream? If you are referring to the cave experience, that was real life. And one of my "been there, done that" moments.
> [/b]



Oops, bad memory...I see now in my original comment that it was a "cave story," not a dream. Guess I&#39;m starting to assume everything I read here isn&#39;t real.   ::?:  





> What an awesome dream&#33; And what cool powers you had. I love how the storyline continues on, and the complexity of it.
> [/b]



Thanks, glad you liked it. The powers were great fun,  but the most exciting part for me was the narrative at the end. Not long before I first learned about LDing, I read an editorial by a famous SF author (Robert Silverberg, I believe) in which he described a recurring dream about reading a manuscript for the most amazing book he&#39;d ever read, which of course was forgotten when he woke up. This editorial freaked me out because I&#39;ve had several dreams just like his. In a way, my LDing Holy Grail has always been to find that book (or hopefully many books) and be able to remember at least a bit of its content so I can write it down when I wake up.

Heh, this dream was definitely *not* my Great Novel.   ::bigteeth::

----------


## oneironut

*The Crappy Stunt Spectacular
Wednesday, January 03, 2007*

I arrive before dawn at a secluded location to witness some top-secret military test. Turns out its not so secret after all, because theres a line of people outside the gate waiting to buy admission tickets. I join the line, and after a short wait we start down a rickety wooden staircase that descends into a valley where the test is going to take place. The sun comes up just as we get our first glimpse of the valley floor far below. The view is absolutely beautiful: heavily wooded mountains, crystal clear streams, huge fields of bright green grass. Im so stunned by the sight that I actually hear an orchestral fanfare, like the emotional highpoint of a film score.

Reaching the foot of the staircase, I see that the path we need to follow has been cut off by a shallow but rapidly flowing stream. There are rocks sticking out of the water, so Im able to skip across without trouble. At the end of the path is a set of metal bleachers, already filled to capacity with spectators. The stretch of field before us has a dirt track on it, with a metal platform set up at one end. Standing on the platform is what I assume to be the star of this demonstration: a sleek and very dangerous looking robot. Standing on either side of it are men dressed in black motorcycle helmets and black leather riding suits reinforced with armor plates.

The demonstration begins, and oh gawd, does it _suck_&#33; The big fancy robot moves like a cheap toy; you can practically hear the plastic grinding. The helmeted men dodge around the robot, pretending to attack it. With a weak _bleep bleep bloop bloop_ sound, the robot raises its arms and flashes tiny green LEDs at them. The men throw themselves off the platform like theyve been hit by a missile. Its all so gaudy it makes Power Rangers look like Jet Li. As Im watching this farce, two young women with very long and straight blond hair walk up and stand close beside me. It isnt an intimate kind of closeness, but an annoying move before you poke my eye out with your nose kind of closeness.

The next part of the demonstration begins, and it seems at least a little more interesting. Ten helmeted men on black motorcycles line up on the dirt track and speed off in perfect unison. When they complete their first circuit, their bikes have changed into racing cars, still painted black. One of the cars veers away from the group and crashes into a post near me. One of the girls runs over to the car and gets into the passenger seat before the car races off again. The remaining girl mutters something about being jealous. I ignore her comments and ask if shes ever heard of personal space.

----------


## oneironut

Hi everybody, I had to take a break from the journal due to health problems, but I&#39;m healing up nicely and ready to pick up where I left off. I&#39;ve really missed DV, it&#39;s great to be back.   :smiley:  
*
Game, Set, and Match
Wednesday, January 17, 2007*

Im waiting to participate in a professional tennis match. My opponent hasnt arrived yet, so I nervously pace around the court and think about how Im going to get clobbered in straight sets. To make matters worse, I suddenly notice that I dont even have a racquet. Thankfully theres a small pro shop right there on the court, and after a few moments browsing I find a nice racquet for myself. The chair umpire is also the cashier, and I hand my credit card up to him so he can ring me up.

As I test my new racquet, a group of tough looking men shows up on the court and starts crowding around me. I try to be diplomatic and politely ask them to leave me alone, but this only makes them angrier and more eager to get in my face. Finally running out of patience, I pick up the closest man by the front of his shirt and toss him across the court. As he tumbles head over heels, I start swatting the other men out of my way as if they only weighed a few pounds. I never think to use my racquet on them because I dont want to damage it before my match.

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## oneironut

*No Time Off for Good Behavior
Thursday, January 18, 2007*

The man chasing me is in regular clothes, but I know hes one of the guards here at the prison. The prison itself is nothing but open desert land enclosed by a wire fence, without buildings of any kind. On the other side of the fence is a concrete moat filled with dirty water. I somehow know the moat is occupied by all sorts of nasty monsters and mutants, and Im running from the guard because hes going to throw me over the fence and into the moat if he catches me.

After running enough to put some distance between me and the guard, I put down the remote-controlled car Ive been carrying and start it racing across the desert. The guard is so stupid that he actually starts chasing after the car instead of me. The car is very fast, and I have a few moments of fun keeping it away from the guard, racing it in circles around him and speeding away before he can grab it.

Eventually the guard gets tired of the chase, and I suddenly see him approaching the fence with a young prisoner struggling in his arms. Just as the guard lifts the prisoner above his head to toss him over the fence, I rush over and give him a good solid kick to each of his shins. He yells out in pain and drops the prisoner, who quickly runs away. The angry guard starts to come after me again, but he can barely move on his injured legs, and I escape at a casual walk with my toy car following along beside me.

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## Twoshadows

> The guard is so stupid that he actually starts chasing after the car instead of me.[/b]



  ::chuckle::  Funny how things like that happen in dreams. Almost like a silly cartoon.

Hope your weather warms a bit&#33;

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## Vex Kitten

Hey there, it&#39;s been a while since I&#39;ve had the time to really sit and read dreams. 

Really liked that Cat Burlary dream... like how you seemed to have employed the use of the Jedi Mind trick to divert attention from yourself. I half expected you to semi quote Obi-wan by saying something like..&#39;I am not here... this is not the catwoman you&#39;re looking for.... move along..."

Great dreams, so glad I got the chance to stop in finally.
 ::content::

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## oneironut

Twoshadows: Heh, the thermometer on my porch reads 60. What a scorcher.   ::evil::  

Vex: Lol @ your Obi-Wan quote. "How long have you had this catwoman?" "Three or four seasons" "She&#39;s up for sale if you want her." Haha.


*Part of This Nutritious Breakfast
Friday, January 19, 2007*

Im spending the night at Ls house. There must be a lot of guests staying over, because my bed is right in the middle of the dining room where the table normally is. Im feeling so comfortable and relaxed that I decide to be totally lazy and stay in bed all morning. After a moment I realize that it would be embarrassing to be seen in bed while everybody moves through the dining room and the rest of the house, so I reluctantly get up and put on my robe.

Walking into the kitchen, I notice the sink and surrounding counter space is filled with drying dishes. After fishing out a big bowl from the pile, I go to the pantry to get some cereal. L always keeps several kinds of cereal, but Im surprised to see dozens of different boxes stacked up on the pantry shelves. Four or five of them appear to be a generic version of Capn Crunch, which was always my favorite as a boy. I try to find the box thats already open, but it turns out theyve all been opened, so I grab the closest box and start filling up my bowl.

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## oneironut

*Does Whatever a Spider Can
Saturday, January 20, 2007*

Its late at night and Im walking through a deserted college campus. Im moving in a straight line rather than following the paved walkways. When a low wall gets in my way, I easily jump clear over it and keep walking. Im a little surprised by this, but I dont dwell on it for very long. Soon after Im approaching the corner of a glass building. Without a second thought I jump up, cling to the glass, crawl around the buildings corner, and flip off to land smoothly on my feet.

It suddenly occurs to me that Ive somehow gained the powers of Spiderman. Im thrilled by this because hes always been my favorite hero. Eager to try out my new abilities, I notice a tall apartment building made of brown stucco just across the courtyard. The building is a massive structure that seems to be all balconies and towers. A perfect playground for somebody with spider powers.

I begin by simply leaping from balcony to balcony, but after a dozen floors the distance between them becomes too great for jumping. Time to try something else. Standing on a balcony railing, I tentatively reach out and press my hands against the wall. They seem to be sticking, but I have a moment of doubt. I imagine myself slipping off the wall and falling to my death. Theres no way Ill be able to do this. Having decided that, I suddenly jump off the balcony railing and cling to the wall.

For a moment I can only sit there, but then I slowly start to climb. I stay securely stuck to the wall, and the further I go the more confident I become. After a few moments Im scrambling up the wall with ease. Ascending one last tower, I find myself at the very top of the apartment building. I can see the entire campus spread out below, along with the surrounding woodlands and the city beyond. Another moment of doubt hits me along with a huge wave of vertigo, and Im suddenly lying flat on my belly on the tower roof, terrified to move because Im afraid Ill fall. Again I remind myself that I have Spidermans powers, and he never gets afraid of heights.

Standing up again, I see that behind the apartment building are thick redwood trees. Instead of crawling back down the side of the building, I decide to try one of the powers I havent used yet. Reaching out towards the closest tree, I squeeze my hand into a fist and a line of webbing shoots from my wrist and sticks securely to the tree trunk. The line looks way too thin to support my weight, but it does so easily as I swing from the apartment building to the tree. I crawl down the tree trunk headfirst and reach the ground. 

After walking through the woods for a bit, I emerge onto a city street. The buildings on either side of the road are so close together that they practically form a wall. With a running jump I fire a web line onto a building and swing towards it. Just before I collide I fire a new web onto a building further down the street and on the opposite side of the road. Pretty soon Im swinging down the street between the buildings just like in the movies. My movements are awkward at first, but I soon get the hang of it. I even start performing graceful midair flips as I release one web line and fire the next.

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## oneironut

*Spray-On Video
Monday, January 22, 2007*

Im watching a show thats being presented right in front of me instead of appearing on television. The program is about new technology and the hosts are discussing some method for applying video images to ordinary objects. I dont get the exact details of how this works, but I sense it involves something like an aerosol spray.

The program segment begins with all three hosts sitting on a giant motorcycle thats completely covered with animated images of swirling colors and abstract shapes. Then one of the hosts gets up from the motorcycle and walks over to a nearby table. There are several black t-shirts spread out over the table. The host holds one of the shirts up and I see the front of it is decorated with an image that looks like the screaming face from the movie poster to Pink Floyd  The Wall. As I watch, the face begins to writhe in silent agony, its already elongated mouth stretching open even further. Strange, indistinct shapes wiggle around deep inside.

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## oneironut

*Hell Hath No Fury
Tuesday, January 23, 2007*

The woman who has taken me and the others hostage has dark hair and is dressed in black fatigues. I cant think of her name, but I know we were once romantically involved and that things ended very badly for us. Now shes only moments away from destroying the entire world, and itll be as much my fault as hers.

We are being held captive in an ordinary household garage. In the exact center is a set of metal shelves holding a disorganized mass of wires, tubing, and circuitry. This is the machine that I and my fellow hostages built, the machine that the woman is about to use to destroy the world. Its a crude version of the Genesis Device from _Star Trek II_: it destroys all matter around it and uses the raw material to build a new planet. The woman is only interested in the first half of the process.

As I watch, she approaches the machine holding a bullet-shaped glass case filled with wires. She snaps it into position in the middle of the machine, and after a brief inspection goes back to the far wall, where she has several diagrams spread out over the washer and dryer. I start to get very scared because I know the glass case is the last critical component needed for the machine to function.

If Im going to stop this, I have to act now. I look to my companions for help, but theyre off in a corner playing darts and seem oblivious to everything thats going on. The woman has her back to me as she continues to study the diagrams, so I manage to creep up to the machine without attracting attention. I mentally run through several options, but everything I can do has as much a chance of triggering the machine as disabling it. Just when Im about to start panicking, I notice the small circuit board on one of the lower shelves. I remember that this board is safe to remove but absolutely essential.

The woman turns around and sees me just as I pull the circuit board free from the machine. She doesnt move or cry out, but just watches me with a surprised and even slightly amused expression. I hold up the circuit board so she can see it, then drop it to the floor and stomp on it until its broken into several pieces. The machine is broken, the world is saved.

Now all I have to worry about is my own skin. The woman still hasnt moved, so I walk over to her. We just stand there looking at each other for a moment, and then I say, Youre going to do horrible things to me now, arent you?

The woman gives me a sad smile, touches my cheek briefly, and says No. Without another word, she walks away and goes into the house. Im not very comforted by her response, because knowing her, it could either mean never or not just yet.

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## oneironut

*Theres No Stopping Him
Wednesday, January 24, 2007*

First Scene

Ive been walking around a mall expecting to meet some friends, but Im tired of waiting so I go outside and fly up into the air. Hovering high over the mall parking lot, I see a coffee shop in the shopping center next door. Bacon and eggs and hash browns sound really good right about now, so I come in for a landing at the coffee shop entrance.

The place is packed, and several people are already waiting to be seated. After a few moments a waitress grabs a bunch of menus and asks us to follow her. It turns out she means to seat all of us together at one large table. Sharing a table with strangers isnt that big a deal, but in this case I completely flip out. I storm towards the exit, screaming about how Ill never come here again. That doesnt seem extreme enough, so on my way out I stop and start destroying the lunch counter with my bare hands. Food flies everywhere and customers run screaming.

Second Scene

Im running for the exit to a large home improvement store where the staff has been holding me prisoner for some time. Four or five employees, all of them dressed in orange aprons, are hot on my heels. Im afraid theyre going to catch me before I can escape, so I turn and hold my hand out towards them. Suddenly theyre all knocked off their feet and go tumbling like bowling pins. One of the employees sits up and motions for the others to stay put. I clearly hear him say, Theres no stopping him.

Exiting the store, I find myself in a loading area. Instead of trucks or vans, the delivery drivers are riding giant snails. I run up to one snail and hop onto it just as it pulls away. The driver sees me and starts a friendly chat as if theres nothing unusual about a stranger suddenly jumping aboard his snail. I immediately get suspicious; the driver sounds like hes trying to distract me while he triggers an alarm or something. I jump off the snail and sprint towards another one. This time Im able to climb on without the driver seeing me.

Third Scene

Im walking purposefully towards the entrance of a fancy office building, perhaps the corporate headquarters of the store that held me prisoner. I have a large covered umbrella tucked under my arm. Im not sure what my exact objective is, but I know Id like to accomplish it with as little violence as possible. A guard stationed in the lobby sees me approaching and runs for the entrance. I figure thats the end of the non-violent plan, but it turns out the guard is on my side; he simply unlocks the entrance doors and holds them open for me.

As I enter the lobby I pull the cover off the umbrella to reveal a human figure, all compressed and folded up like a real umbrella would be. When I push the little button on the handle, the figure pops off the umbrella shaft and flops to the floor. It immediately starts to unfold and grow, and in just seconds I have a middle-aged man in an expensive suit walking beside me. This is another part of my non-violent plan; the man is a lawyer who will smooth talk us past any resistance.

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## oneironut

*Medieval War is Hell
Thursday, January 25, 2007*

Im about to fight for my life in a tournament arena. Its likely going to be a very short fight: Im on foot and armed only with a small axe. Im facing not just one but two armored knights on horseback. They each have heavy wooden lances.

The knights begin their charge and I calmly wait to get killed, but then I notice theyre riding far enough apart to leave a gap between them. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I run to meet their charge. I get past the points of the lances before the knights can turn them towards me, and as they ride past I start swinging my axe as fast as I can. Im aiming for the horses; if I can get the knights on foot by killing or incapacitating their mounts, then those lances will become fairly useless and Ill have the advantage of speed and mobility.

The horses continue past me without appearing to be injured, but I get the sense that theyve been damaged. In my mind I can actually see a pair of health bars dropping like in a video game. One knight veers off to the left and circles the arena to make another charge. The second knight keeps riding towards the corner wall and has to bring his horse to a halt. Im there before he can turn the horse around, swinging like a berserker. As I press the attack, I suddenly remember the first knight and turn around just in time to avoid getting skewered. He also gets caught in the corner, so I start chopping away at him too.

Things get hazy for a moment, and when they clear both knights and one of the horses have disappeared from the arena. The remaining horse is lying on its side in a pool of blood. Im not sure what happened, but Im still alive and standing. I walk over to the horses mangled body and see that the poor animal is still alive, its head thrashing in agony. I intended to kill this animal in order to survive, but I never wanted it to suffer like this. I feel sick with guilt and revulsion at the thought of what Im going to have to do, but I cant leave the horse like this. I start swinging my axe as hard as I can, hoping that itll be over soon.


*Youre in the Kiddie Army Now
Friday, January 26, 2007*

Im going for a jog down the sidewalk and notice a bright yellow school bus parked at the curb just ahead. As I pass it by, a bunch of preschoolers dressed in army fatigues come charging out of the bus and start jogging with me. I look down and see that Im also dressed in fatigues, so I decide to play along. 

We run for a short ways down the street and turn into the entrance of a white library building. It must be Halloween, because as we run down the aisles library staff dressed in monster makeup jump out from behind the shelves trying to frighten us. We all come to a halt in the childrens reading room and start clapping and cheering because we finished our run and didnt get scared. My last thought is, I wonder if well be issued our rifles before or after snack time?

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## oneironut

I decided to skip the rest of January because of the rotten first half. Fresh month, fresh start. Time to get serious again about journaling and inducing LDs.

Goals Update

*Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream this month
*Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream."


*The Fugitive, Part Two?
Thursday, February 01, 2007*

Im working at some store when one of the staff comes running up to me with a note. The note is unsigned and addressed to me. It warns me that Im being watched by the police and could be arrested at any time. I find this amusing since I havent committed any crime. I crumple up the note and go back to work.

Later on, Im approached by another one of the staff. She gives me the classifieds section of a newspaper and points out a particular ad. Like the note before, the ad is addressed to me. Its the exact same message: the police are watching me, I can be arrested at any time. It suggests that I go on the run. Im no longer amused, but Im not panicking either. I know I havent done anything wrong, and fleeing would just make me look guilty. I decide to keep my eyes open and go about my business as usual, but in the back of my mind I start considering escape plans. Just in case.

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## oneironut

Important safety tip, kids: If you&#39;re going to have a dream based on the _Jaws_ movies, make sure you&#39;re the hero and not a supporting character. At the very least, have the good taste to dream about the original film rather than a crappy sequel.   ::wink::  

*Down Ya Go
Friday, February 02, 2007*

A great white shark has infiltrated an artificial lake at a Sea World-like water park, and Im one of two experts hired to kill it. My partner somehow has a history of conflict with this particular shark, so this job is a personal matter for him. Hes standing right at the edge of the lake, armed with a bow and arrow and waiting for the fish to show itself. Im the one carrying the bucket of chum and standing well away from him.

My partner steps into the water up to his knees, using himself as bait. Theres a sudden explosion of water and a huge animal rises to the surface. My partner stumbles back to shore, blindly firing an arrow as he goes. I just stand there and watch since Im armed only with a chum bucket. The animal turns out to be a massive killer whale that looks to be forty or fifty feet long. As it submerges again I think that maybe its big enough to kill the shark for us.

Several minutes pass without an appearance by any giant aquatic animals. I get the sense that the shark has moved down to the other end of the lake, so we run down there. The tourists at least had the sense to get out of the water, but a mass of them are standing right at the waters edge with cameras and cell phones ready. I yell at them to back away and throw a big scoopful of chum into the water.

After a few seconds the shark appears. It doesnt slowly rise from the surface, or even lunge. This thing rockets fully out of the water like a missile. It looks incredibly fake, like a three ton sock puppet, only with teeth. As I watch its ascent I realize the stupid thing has just killed itself; its going to land so far on shore that it wont be able to even flop back into the water. We can sit around and watch it die at our leisure.

The crowd screams and runs in a panic. I stand still and watch the shark, because I want to see exactly where its heading before I make a move. It continues to rise and fly inland, and I can see thats it going to pass me by easily. Right then the shark abruptly drops straight down. It lands on me headfirst, its mouth wide open so I go right down its throat.

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## oneironut

*The Breakfast Channel
Saturday, February 03, 2007*

Ive decided what I want to eat, but I cant find anybody to come take my order. The small diner is filled to capacity; Im literally squeezed in a tiny section of the counter. I cant see a waitress, but theres so many people around its hard to distinguish anybody in the crowd.

Whatll you have? I hear a voice ask me. Finally&#33; I look up expecting to see a waitress, but theres nobody there.

Up here, the voice says. I look up further and see the television set bolted to the corner wall. On the screen, one of the characters from a program is looking out at me. All of the other characters on the show are frozen in place.

Oh, I get it. This is one of those hidden camera shows that plays jokes on people. Yeah, haha, whatever. I look around the restaurant trying to spot something thatll give the pranksters away. Right then I see a waitress dressed in a bright pink uniform. She smiles and winks at me, then nods at the television as if to say, Go ahead, its alright.

I turn back to the television. The character on the show has moved forward so that his face fills the screen. Hesitantly, I tell him I want some scrambled eggs and hash browns, extra crisp.

The man says, Got it, and steps back into position alongside the other characters, who unfreeze and continue acting out the program as if nothing happened. I shrug and sit back to wait for my breakfast.

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## oneironut

My dreams have been less than thrilling lately, but I can&#39;t stand being bumped to Page 2, so here ya go&#33;   


*Traveling Heavy
Wednesday, February 07, 2007*

My fictional roommate and I are planning to take a trip to Mexico with a third person. As we discuss the details, I cant understand what exactly were going to do. Fly down to Mexico and take a cruise ship from there? Take a cruise ship from here to Mexico? Were leaving in a few hours and I cant remember if Ive even purchased tickets or made reservations.

Now the two of us are walking through an airport terminal. It looks like LAX, but I know its actually further south, like San Diego. We meet up with our companion, somebody I dont recognize. He and my roommate are carrying small suitcases. Im lugging around a heavy bundle that looks like a bunch of rolled up carpets. The bundle is awkward to carry and keeps flopping around in my arms. At one point a small mouse falls out and skitters away. Another traveler points at it, laughing.

My roommate and I are now outside the airport and approaching a two-story building. Our companion has vanished from the scene. As I follow my roommate up an outside staircase to the second floor, I glance in a window and see what looks like an apartment. I get nervous wondering if my roommate is about to break into someone elses home.

We walk into the second floor apartment to discover it has been converted into a public restaurant. Several people are seated at tables all around the living room, and there are posters and neon beer signs all over the walls. On the kitchen counter is an order waiting to be picked up: a giant roast beef sandwich at least a foot in diameter and six inches thick. My attitude about coming to this place improves considerably just at the sight of it.

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## oneironut

*Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Army
Thursday, February 08, 2007*

The entire century has been slaughtered except for myself and a grizzled old veteran. We wander through a bleak landscape, overwhelmed by exhaustion and shame in equal measure. Bestial cries announce the arrival of one of the enemys scouting parties: about a dozen filthy, fur-clad barbarians. They run right past us without attacking; somehow they believe we are part of their army, in spite of our Roman breastplates and gladii. Typical savage ignorance.

Alone again in this wasteland, my companion and I continue our aimless journey until we come to a wall made of dark stone. It stretches as far as I can see and has gaps at regular intervals. Passing through the closest of these openings, we see spread before us a wonderous sight: a mighty army, countless ranks of Roman warriors dressed in gleaming armor and plumed helmets.

We immediately receive food and water and are allowed to join the ranks. Still, I can tell the other soldiers feel only contempt for us because of our centurys failure. I dont care what they think about me, just as I no longer care what I thought about myself before. As centurions shout orders and the wasteland resounds with the thunder of marching feet, all I feel is joy and anticipation for the coming battle.

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## oneironut

Ugh...flaked out again on maintaining the journal. I seem to be in an on-again, off-again slump.   ::|:  

Fragments from last night:

1. A military firing squad executes a solider in the middle of a snowy wood. Too bad the bullets weren&#39;t made of silver, because the soldier immediately gets back on his feet and tears into them with a snarl.

2. I&#39;m talking with my "dream parents" about some scandal involving a friend from high school. I insist that she&#39;s just the victim of vicious rumors, and find it laughable that anybody could believe such things about her. My parents don&#39;t seem to share the same view, and the conversation gets heated.

3. My father is digging a deep trench in the middle of my living room with a pickaxe. I&#39;m really angry at this, not because my house is being destroyed, but because I&#39;m trying to relax and the noise is disturbing me. I tell him to call it a day and come back tomorrow.

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## oneironut

*Tightwads Party
Thursday, February 15, 2007*

I get a sudden case of the munchies and make my way through the crowd towards where Im guessing the food is. I guess correctly, but instead of snack trays our host has set up a coin-operated vending machine. Several people are already waiting in line to use it. Im really angry and offended, but Im also really hungry, so I join the line like everybody else. As I move closer to the front, I discover our host is an idiot as well as cheap. The vending machine works like a newspaper box: you put in a coin, then pull open the cabinet and take what you want. When the girl ahead of me drops her coin in the slot, I tell her to grab a paper for us, too. The rest of the line laughs at my brilliant humor.

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## oneironut

*The Pinball Apprentice
Tuesday, February 20, 2007*

Im watching somebody play a pinball machine. When he finishes and I start to play, he puts a bunch of quarters on the cabinet to indicate he has the next turn. Im annoyed by this but try to keep my attention on the game. Im playing very well for such a complicated pinball machine with so many flippers located all over the board. The machine isnt set to be very sensitive, either; several times I practically turn the thing on its side without getting a single TILT warning.

A group of kids comes over to watch me play, three of them standing on either side of the machine. They start to interfere by leaning over the cabinet and blocking my view. One of the punks even climbs up on the glass. I yell at them to get out of the way and try to keep my focus, but I soon lose my third and final ball.

As upset as I am over losing the game, I figure that I played well enough at the start to have racked up a decent score. Thats when I look up at the scoreboard and discover I made only 9 million points, pretty pathetic for pinball. Im tempted to start some trouble with the kids who distracted me, but instead I just walk off while the guy I watched before starts a new game.

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## Twoshadows

I&#39;m glad you are keeping up the journal. 

I&#39;m still waiting for your next Lucid Dream....

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## oneironut

> I&#39;m glad you are keeping up the journal. 
> 
> I&#39;m still waiting for your next Lucid Dream....
> [/b]



Lol, you and me both&#33; I still have a week to meet my two goals, and I&#39;ve always been a successful procrastinator, so we&#39;ll see if I can pull it off. Thanks for the encouragement.   :smiley:  


*Nothing But Something
Wednesday, February 21, 2007*

Some friends and I are chatting and joking around as we wait for the movie to start. Suddenly most of the audience gets up as one and walks out of the theater. We wonder if everybody decided to go to the snack bar at once, or if they know something about the upcoming movie that we dont.

After a few moments the audience comes back, now doubled in number. Ushers frantically run around the theater forcing those who are still seated to move to different places so therell be room for everybody. I get separated from my friends and wind up sitting between two strangers. I hate sitting between people at the movies, so Im very uncomfortable. In the row ahead of me, one of my friends is standing and screaming at a group to move over just one goddamn seat.

The stranger to my left is a well-dressed man in his fifties. He seems very polite and intelligent, and we get involved in a conversation. At this point I notice I have a school binder in my lap filled with papers and notebooks. The man apparently notices too, because right then he steals a notebook from my binder and tries to hide it by stuffing it down the back of his trousers. I take the notebook back, say some not-so-polite things to the man, and ignore him.

In the very front row, a group of militant-looking teenagers stand up in their seats and turn to face the audience, yelling slogans with fists upraised. Just when things look to get ugly, the theater lights dim and everybody calms down. One of the young guerillas starts running towards the back row by skipping over the top of the theater seats. Im starting to wish I stayed home, but Im still impressed by the guys dexterity.

The first preview trailer looks like a cross between an underdog sports movie and Forrest Gump. The hero (who looks like Mark Wahlberg) wants to play pro basketball and everybody laughs at him because hes so skinny and weak. The next scene shows him playing his first game. He takes both basketballs (yes, I know) leaps all the way across the court, and hovers in front of the net long enough to slam first one ball, then the other. 

The hero eventually becomes an arrogant jerk, and in the third scene hes arriving at the stadium dressed in dark glasses and a leather jacket. His hair is all shaved off except for the top, which has been buzzed short and shaped to look like either flames or wings sweeping back from his forehead. At this point the scene goes into slow motion, and the announcer reads the title of the movie: some play on the phrase nothing but net, but I cant make out the third word exactly.

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## oneironut

*Better Than Flowers
Thursday, February 22, 2007*

Im an invisible observer at an elementary school class. Theres this one boy in the front rowa little pudgy, a little awkwardwho keeps fidgeting in his seat and nervously glancing over his shoulder. I see hes looking at a girl with black pigtails sitting several rows back from him.

He wants to bring her a gift, but all he has on his desk are pieces of a cardboard box. Taking the largest piece, the boy carefully folds and colors the cardboard until its an interesting abstract shape. He slowly walks back to the girls desk and holds the piece of cardboard out to her. She takes it and just watches him with a neutral expression. Fidgeting even more, the boy mumbles a joke about the cardboard and tries to laugh. To both our surprise, the girl smiles and laughs with him over the joke. She seems genuinely charmed by the simple gift.

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## oneironut

Horrible night&#39;s sleep, but I managed to remember a few details:

1. Friends come over to throw a birthday party for me. We&#39;re playing a game that resembles Twister. I&#39;m given a set of instructions for the game that I can&#39;t understand.

2. I&#39;m relaxing on a couch reading the Sunday paper, dressed only in a robe. The couch is in the middle of a supermarket checkout area. I get up and escort some small children out of the market. One of them is a little girl the size of a toy doll. I&#39;m afraid she&#39;ll get hurt so I pick her up and carry her. She rests her head on my shoulder and falls asleep.

3. I&#39;m browsing a buffet trying to find something I want. On the way back to my table I see a man reach over and start eating off his companion&#39;s plate. An altercation ensues.

----------


## oneironut

*Dribbling (Lucid)
Tuesday, February 27, 2007*

Im running laps around the outside of a large shopping mall. It occurs to me that this is not a realistic situation for me to be in, and I start thinking This is a dream repeatedly. I run into the mall and become even more convinced Im dreaming, because everything around me is straight out of the Seventies, from the clothes on display in the shop windows to the music playing over the sound system.

I continue to think This is a dream as I run down the length of the mall. At one point I feel like Im dribbling a basketball, but I cant actually see it. The music from the sound system gets louder and changes to a more modern piano piece. After a few seconds I wake up to hear piano music coming from the bedroom speakers I forgot to turn off before falling asleep.





> *Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream this month *Done 2/27/07*
> *Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream." *Almost, but not quite*
> [/b]



Goals Update

*Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream by 3/15/07
*Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream."

----------


## Twoshadows

All right&#33;&#33; Good job.  ::goodjob2::  





> everything around me is straight out of the Seventies, from the clothes on display in the shop windows to the music playing over the sound system.[/b]



That&#39;s great. I want to try that sometime.

I just know you are going to meet your next goals.

Keep it up&#33;

----------


## oneironut

> All right&#33;&#33; Good job.  
> [/b]



Thanks&#33; Didn&#39;t want to keep you waiting any longer.   ::wink:: 

*Secret Agent Man
Thursday, March 01, 2007*

Im a spy infiltrating the villains secret lair (I dont know if its a volcano or not, but the walls are made of rock so its definitely underground). From the shadows I watch the villain walk onto a narrow metal platform high over a stadium-like space where a small army of men are busily working on some project. As he gives his minions a pep talk, I feel a sudden wave of nausea and vertigo. Villain or not, I get very nervous watching somebody standing unprotected at the edge of a fatal drop.

The scene shifts and Im now at ground level in the stadium. The villain is there also, armed with an Uzi and glaring at me in a way that says its time to drop the subtleties and start shooting. Unfortunately my pistol doesnt seem to work. As I fumble with it looking for a safety switch, I notice Im wearing a silver wristwatch. Since watches are never what they seem to be in my line of work, I drop the useless pistol and point my hand at the villain. A tiny dart attached to a metal wire shoots from the watch and spins around not only the villain but several others standing nearby. They get tangled in the wire and fall to the ground, tightly bound and helpless.

I walk up to the group and look down at them. They look up at meand then we all start laughing hysterically, like a bunch of kids that just finished a really fun game.

----------


## Twoshadows

> They look up at meand then we all start laughing hysterically, like a bunch of kids that just finished a really fun game.[/b]



That&#39;s a funny ending. I like it.   :smiley:

----------


## oneironut

> That&#39;s a funny ending. I like it.  
> [/b]



Thanks, that sort of thing happens quite often in my dreams. Guess I just want to get along and play nice with everybody.   :smiley:  

*Stop the Damn Bus&#33;
Friday, March 02, 2007*

Ive just attended a seminar on online searching, and it was every bit as boring as it sounds. Im being driven home in a yellow school bus along with some of the other attendees. The young woman in the seat across from mine turns into R, and we pass the time having a dull conversation about the dull seminar.

The bus comes to a stop in the parking lot of an elementary school I went to. Rs car is parked here. Without a goodbye or anything, she gets up and exits the bus. As we pull out of the lot, I look out the window and see her frantically running after us, waving and yelling to get the bus drivers attention. He either doesnt notice or is deliberately ignoring her.

I yell at the driver to stop, but he ignores me too. When the bus reaches the end of the street, he finally notices R in his side mirror and gives her a mocking little wave before turning onto the next street. Cursing, I move over to R&#39;s seat and start searching all over. I figure she must have dropped her car keys. When I find them, I plan to get off this buseven if I have to kick out the windowand get them back to her.

----------


## oneironut

*Shopping with the Hitcher
Tuesday, March 06, 2007*

While driving across the desert, I stop at a convenience store to get a cold drink. For a place in the middle of nowhere, the store is well-stocked and very busy. As I wait in line at the register, I notice the man in front of me is the psycho from _The Hitcher_ (the original, not the remake). I start to panic, then relax when I remember Im in the middle of a crowded public place. Then I start to panic again, because I know that sort of thing isnt much of a deterrent for this man.

Stepping out of line, I find one of the store employees stocking shelves and whisper a warning about who is in her store. We sneak to the back room and she tries to call the police, but nobody answers. I make my way towards the store exit as casually as I can, and get outside just in time to see a sheriffs car pull up. The driver is your stereotypical rural lawman: casual clothes, cowboy hat, and a pistol big enough to kill a rhino.

I run up to the sheriff, babbling about the lunatic in the store. The sheriff completely ignores me and starts walking around to the back of the building. He has vanished by the time I catch up to him. It looks like its my problem to deal with, and as if I didnt get the point already, I look down to see Im dressed in the sheriffs clothes, right down to the cowboy hat.

----------


## oneironut

*My Oscar Moment
Thursday, March 08, 2007*

I rush into my dorm roomat least half an hour lateand throw stuff into my backpack as fast as I can. My roommate starts talking about how the textbooks we need are all sold out at the school store. As I zip up my pack and run out the door, I tell him that if this movie deal works out, Im not going to care about the textbooksor college, for that matter.

After a bus ride and a mad dash across campus, I arrive at the movie set. The director rushes up to me and says we have to film one more scene before the sun goes down. Im supposed to be a Russian soldier witnessing the Battle of Stalingrad. As I get into position, I try to tell him that I dont look the part since Im dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, and baseball cap, with my backpack still slung over one shoulder. He says dont worry about it; hes going to shoot the scene in close-up.

Cameras roll and I start emoting: wincing, grimacing, closing my eyes and turning away from the horror of war. From off to the side, the director yells out details to help me: Okay, now you see somebody get decapitated&#33; What Im actually seeing from my position is a pretty lake with some mountains in the distance. The glare of the setting sun makes my eyes tear up, but I figure thatll only add to the performance.

After a few moments of this, the camera passes me from left to right, the lens only inches from my face. The camera crew makes a second pass, this time approaching from fifty feet ahead and veering off to the right. I expect that footage will end up on the editing room floor, since itll clearly show my modern clothes. Finally the director yells, Cut&#33; and I relax. He tells me I did a great job, and I even hear a smattering of applause from the rest of the crew.

----------


## Twoshadows

:bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:

----------


## oneironut

> :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:  :bravo:
> [/b]



Lol. "You like me, you really like me&#33;"   ::bigteeth::  


*I Dream of Wii
Friday, March 09, 2007*

Im sitting at a large TV trying to play a game on a console. It looks like the Wii, but I cant tell for sure. All I know is Im not having any fun. The controller is an ungainly block of buttons and thumbsticks that I cant figure out. The game on the screen is an abstract, gravity-defying mess of colors and shapes. Im getting nauseous just looking at it. I finally shut everything off and try to pack up the console, but I cant seem to get things back in the box the way they were originally packed.

----------


## oneironut

*Picking Up Around the Kitchen
Monday, March 12, 2007*

A portable television on the counter keeps distracting me from my work. On screen is some made-for-TV movie involving magic, jealousy, and murder. Truly cheesy stuff, but I cant keep my eyes off it. A sudden clatter makes me turn away, and I see pots and pans and other kitchen utensils scattered all over the tile floor.

Perhaps inspired by the movie, I reach out and point at a saucepan. It trembles and rises into the air. Guiding it with my finger, the pan floats across the kitchen and comes to rest on a nearby counter. Feeling more confident now, I try lifting two heavy pots at once. They waver a bit, but I manage to get them to their destination without dropping either.

Underneath the rest of the kitchen debris I find a circular saw blade. I pick this up too, but cant resist having a little fun. I start to move my finger as if Im turning pages, each motion making the blade spin faster. When its just a buzzing blur, I quickly point to the far wall and the blade flashes across the kitchen, sinking itself several inches deep into the wall.

From the other room, my grandmother calls out, What are you doing in there? Her words snap me out of my spell. Nothing, I quickly reply, and run over to the wall to pull the saw blade out.

----------


## oneironut

*The Unusual Suspect
Tuesday, March 13, 2007*

Im in a police station answering questions related to a murder investigation. The detective questioning me looks like actor Jon Polito. Im very comfortable and relaxed because I know I had nothing to do with the crime. This must all be nothing more than a formality. After a while, the detective says were finished, thanks me for my time, and offers to escort me to the station entrance.

As we pass an office door, he asks if Id mind waiting a moment while he takes care of something. I wander about while he goes into the office. I hear the sound of somebody slamming down a rubber stamp, and the detective emerges from the office with a handful of stamped documents and a sly smile on his face. I somehow realize Ive been formally charged with the murder.

Still smiling, the detective grabs me by the arm and leads us back the way we came. I give up my right to remain silent by screaming obscenities, threatening to sue the entire police department into oblivion, and detailing the various disgusting, menial jobs the detective will earn his living by when his law enforcement career is in ruins.

The scene shifts wildly, and when everything settles back into place its a childhood friend whos been arrested. The detective is escorting him through a shopping mall, and Im following along to lend my friend moral support. Something in a nearby store catches the detectives eye, and he goes over to the display window to look. When he turns back, my friend is gone.

Im practically doubled over laughing as I watch the detective quickly scan the crowd, searching for his lost suspect. His expression is calm, but the panic is clearly visible in his eyes. I tease him a bit about what an idiot he is, then casually stroll away. As I approach the mall exit, I hear a voice behind me call out my name. I turn just in time to see my friend sprint past me like an Olympic hopeful. I cheer and tell him to run like hell.

Exiting the mall, I find myself in a strange city late at night. Next to me is a high wall that runs out to the parking lot. I jump onto it and run along its length, flying into the sky when I reach the end. As I soar into the night, the citys lights spread out far below, I hear the screeching noise _The Lost Boys_ make when they fly. 

Guess I wasnt wrongfully accused, after all.

----------


## oneironut

No recall today and I missed my goals, but that&#39;s alright...I have an endless supply.   ::wink::  





> *Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream by 3/15/07 *Not Done*
> *Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream." *Not Done*
> [/b]



Goals Update

*Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream by 3/31/07
*Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream."

----------


## Vex Kitten

> *Picking Up Around the Kitchen*



Damn those messy rooms. I&#39;m sick of messiness in my dreams. Perhaps I&#39;ll employ your telekenetic method of cleaning next time around... or call you over to help me clean. No saws or other power tools allowed though.   :tongue2:  

Nice set of goals you got there. Number one is number one on my list too. 
We&#39;ll get there. 
 ::content::

----------


## oneironut

> Damn those messy rooms. I&#39;m sick of messiness in my dreams. Perhaps I&#39;ll employ your telekenetic method of cleaning next time around... or call you over to help me clean. No saws or other power tools allowed though.   
> 
> Nice set of goals you got there. Number one is number one on my list too. 
> We&#39;ll get there. 
> 
> [/b]



Lol, for some reason it never registered that I was cleaning house in that dream. QUICK, REALITY CHECK&#33; I just read your journal for today and it looks like you got there already; nice job on that WILD.   :smiley:  


I rarely have full-blown nightmares, but I&#39;d say today&#39;s entry more than qualifies.

*Horror Hotel
Friday, March 16, 2007*

The entire floor of the hotel suite is covered with an oozing carpet of red slime. Im kneeling on the kitchenette counter, trying to stay as still and silent as possible because I think this shit is alive. Every few seconds a tendril of the stuff rises from the greater mass and circles about, as if searching for me. The slime eventually crawls up and over the counter. I can feel it flowing between my fingers, soaking into my pants and shoes. Dont move, dont move&#33;

I have to try, though. Ever so slowly, I ease myself down from the counter and start towards the door. From the suites other room emerges a red-haired woman wearing a dirty apron. I can tell by her eyes that she is completely mad and about to attack. The only weapons I have are a toy gun and an axe the size of a pizza slicer, so I hold them out threateningly. She stops advancing long enough for me to exit the suite, leaving a trail of red footprints on the doorstep.

As soon as Im in the hallway, I have a companion: a petite woman in her sixties dressed in a dark sweater and blue jeans. We make our way down the hall together, searching for an exit. The woman enters one of the other suites, and I have no choice but to follow. The floor is clear and the rest of the suite is empty. The woman starts raiding the kitchenette for food and supplies while I stand guard nearby. 

Suddenly I see a flash of motion behind the woman and hear the horrible sound of ripping cloth and flesh. Something unseen just cut the woman wide open from behind, and her face grows pale and slack in death. A little hamper next to the woman flips open, and a nearly transparent arm reaches out and tries to pull the body in after it. I turn and run in a blind panic. The last sounds I hear are the womans bones breaking as her corpse is forced into the hamper.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

Wow. That was pretty f&#39;ckin twisted.  ::shock:: 
I can just picture that hand pulling the woman into the small opening of the hamper. It&#39;s just as scary, that you could only hear it, though.

----------


## oneironut

> Wow. That was pretty f&#39;ckin twisted. 
> [/b]



I couldn&#39;t have said it better myself. Most of my nightmare scenarios involve things I can&#39;t see, but this was far worse because I had the sound effects to help my imagination fill in the blanks.


*No Dark Sarcasm in the Classroom
Saturday, March 17, 2007*

I recognize the writing on the scraps of paper as my own: titles, authors, call numbers. As Im shuffling the stack, a student assistant stops at my desk and leaves a pile of books and pamphlets. I start matching each slip with the appropriate item. Looks like I made some smart choices; all of the books are so thin I should have no problem reading them before the deadline.

I glance up from my work at the grim old man scowling at us from his desk at the front of the room. The professor is a skeletal figure in horn-rimmed glasses, all tweed and black robes. He turns his gaze from us as the classroom door opens and a boy enters in a swirl of snow and wind. The professor tells the boy that hes late for class and will have to wait outside for the remainder of the session. For a moment the boy just stands there, his face flushed, but then he resignedly goes back out into the cold.

The professor stands and starts moving about the room. When hes over in the far corner, some boys sitting near me lean their heads close and start whispering. I can tell theyre just exchanging the usual insults about the old bastard, and it makes me angry. I try to cut in on the conversation, try to tell them they can do morea lot morethan whisper insults, but Im always interrupted before I can get a word in.

Theres a flash of red to my left, and I turn to see her sitting down at the desk beside mine. Oh, shes beautiful, stunning, a Hollywood starlet walking right off the screen: wavy brown hair to her shoulders, skin so smooth and white it glows under the harsh fluorescent lights, a slinky red dress that burns through our coarse, drab uniforms. She looks at me and smiles in recognition.

Then the professors shadow falls over her, and I can only sit there and watch as he quietly tears into her with words. She seems to wilt beneath his verbal lashings, until finally she sits slumped in the chair, staring at her desk top with an empty expression. Ive never, ever, wanted to hurt somebody more than I do at this moment, but I cant do a thing. Not yet, I cant.

Satisfied with the job hes done, the professor returns to his desk. The girl slowly turns to meand flashes a quick smile and wink before putting her mask of hollow defeat back on. Stifling a laugh, I also return to my meaningless sorting task while I think, and plan, and wait.

----------


## oneironut

I had my third lucid dream a short while ago, and this time completed my goal action. This was the second night of giving MILD another shot, a technique I tried years ago and did not care for. I&#39;d consider this a come-from-behind victory, because I encountered the same problem with MILD that I did back then: trouble falling back to sleep. Thankfully I managed to conk out sometime after 3 so I could have the LD below.


*Spin Cycle (Lucid)
Tuesday, March 20, 2007*

After wandering about the hotel lobby, I go through a door and find myself in a dim corridor. At the end is another door leading to a small room with cinderblock walls. On the wall ahead of me is a bank of washing machines that rattle and thump their way through a cycle. Against the wall to my left is an old yellow refrigerator. Milling about the room are several men dressed in dirty white t-shirts and overalls. I assume theyre part of the hotels maintenance staff.

I suddenly realize that Im dreaming. Worried that Ill wake up before I can accomplish my goal, I immediately hold out my arms, spin in place, and tell myself, This is a dream. I stop spinning and the dream continues, so I glance around. One of the maintenance men looks like his hair is wet, because its plastered flat against his head. Hes kind of scary looking, but gives me a friendly smile, so I smile back and say hello. I spin one more time for good measure. At this point my lucidity starts to fade. I go running mindlessly through a few more rooms and wake up shortly after.






> *Goal 1* - Have at least 1 lucid dream by 3/31/07 *Done*
> *Goal 2* - In my next lucid dream, spin and tell myself, "This is a dream." *Done*
> [/b]



An assumed goal for all future LDs is to perform this spinning action, not only to stabilize the dream, but also to keep my mind from wandering. Otherwise, my next set of goals is to test each of my senses. I thought it would be interesting to use a single object for all of these tests. Since I enjoy them IRL, I chose apples.

Goals Update

*Goal 1* - Have at least one more lucid dream this month
*Goal 2* - Find an apple and look at it closely. Do not touch or eat it.

----------


## Twoshadows

Good job. That&#39;s great that you were able to complete your goals&#33;

So did you do the WBTB method with your MILD? That&#39;s how I have had my best success. But sometimes I also have trouble getting back to sleep in time to squeeze out an LD.

And I also like your new set of goals. Good luck with them.  :smiley:

----------


## oneironut

> Good job. That&#39;s great that you were able to complete your goals&#33;
> 
> So did you do the WBTB method with your MILD? That&#39;s how I have had my best success. But sometimes I also have trouble getting back to sleep in time to squeeze out an LD.
> 
> And I also like your new set of goals. Good luck with them. 
> [/b]



Thanks as always for the encouragement. I finally had to search the forum for "WBTB" to find out what everybody&#39;s been talking about. That method is definitely not for me; if I W for too long during the night, it&#39;s impossible for me to get BTB.


Although I didn&#39;t get lucid last night, MILD worked a bit better in that I became alert enough to practice while still falling asleep quickly. As long as I continue getting enough rest, I&#39;ll stick with MILD since it already worked once.

*Werewolves and All That Jazz
Wednesday, March 21, 2007*

Im waiting in line to buy an admission ticket for a small, out of the way jazz club. I can see the clubs interior through the entrance next to the ticket booth; its crowded, run down, and filled with a smoky haze. But thats what makes it so cool&#33;

Finally reaching the front of the line, I ask the lady running the ticket booth how much it costs to get in. She doesnt answer, so I take a five and a single and push it to her through a slot. She pushes the money back and tells me she needs exact change. Again I ask her how much, and this time all she does is touch her two index fingers together for a few seconds before moving them away from each other. This must be some special signal that everybody else understands, but I dont and Im getting angry. I decide I dont want to get in after all and step out of line.

The club is in the center of a small village surrounded by dark snowy woods. Suddenly filled with a sense of danger, I fly up into the air and hover fifty feet or so above the ground. As I watch, a pair of werewolves run from the woods and start attacking random villagers. Im horrified by the sight but grateful that at least Im safe. Thats when I hear a snarl and see a werewolfs jaws snap shut just inches from my foot.
I try to gain altitude but cant, so I fly evasively as the werewolf makes leap after leap trying to pull me back to earth.

----------


## oneironut

*Chew Toy
Thursday, March 22, 2007*

A horrible screeching roar echoes through the house as I run from room to room, trying to find a place to hide and avoid being eaten. The room Im currently in, like all the others before it, is completely empty. I hear snuffling sounds coming from not far down the hall. Pressing myself into the corner next to the door, I try to remember if this thing can see you when you move or not.

Claws click on the wood floor just outside the room, then stop abruptly. A sleek scaly head peeks around the door, reptilian eyes focusing right on me. Velociraptor. Ohshit. I instinctively throw my left arm up to my face as the dinosaur lunges, and its jaws clamp down hard on my hand. Theres no pain or blood, and for a moment I just stare at the creature thats trying to chew up my hand.

The raptor pulls me out of the corner and starts thrashing its head wildly, tossing me around like a rag doll. I quickly get tired of all this, so I manage to work my left thumb and fingertips free and get a grip on the raptors lower jaw. Then I reach out with my right hand and get hold of its upper jaw. Then dinosaur bones break with a satisfying snap as I quickly pull my hands apart and nearly tear the raptors head in half.

----------


## Spritely

> *Werewolves and All That Jazz
> Wednesday, March 21, 2007*
> [/b]



Urk, why is it that dream cashiers have to be so frustrating and unhelpful? This sort of thing happens to me all the time. 

Nice job on the spinning lucid, and on beating up the velociraptor.  :smiley:  Your last dream reminded me strongly of this comic, for some reason.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

Yeah, those raptors are badass. I think out of any "movie monsters" ever, the Jurassic Park portrayal of those things are some of my all-time favorites. They were just plain wicked.

----------


## chipalarter

Hey&#33;

Cheers for replying on my journal m8... appreciated&#33;

At least your dreams dont seem to be as weird as mine&#33;

Chip

----------


## oneironut

Spritely - Now now, we should always be patient towards dream cashiers...I&#39;ve had enough nightmares from the other side of the cash register to know what they&#39;re going through. Great comic&#33;   ::chuckle::  

Oneironaut - I hear you, that&#39;s why it felt so good to pull a King Kong on one of those suckers.   :Boxing:   I probably would&#39;ve started beating my chest if I hadn&#39;t woken up right after.

Chip - You&#39;re welcome, and thanks for stopping by. Let&#39;s see...in the past week or so I&#39;ve had dreams of intelligent red slime, werewolves, and dinosaurs. Nope, nothing weird there.   ::wink:: 


I just remember a fragment from yesterday: the usual "late-at-night-and-the-front-door-won&#39;t-stay-locked" scenario. Thankfully I was at my grandmother&#39;s old place, so at least it was a safe neighborhood.

----------


## oneironut

<rant>
Arrgh, that&#39;s it, no more MILD&#33; At least not as it&#39;s outlined in the book. It&#39;s a good method, the logic behind it is sound, but for me it&#39;s a total bust. If I wake up in the middle of the night and actively think for more than a few minutes, I&#39;m screwed as far as getting back to sleep is concerned. I keep goofing around with methods I&#39;ve never used, even though all my lucid dreams from years ago resulted from my own particular method. My mind knows this and won&#39;t accept anything else. Ok, Mind, you win, I&#39;ll play along.
</rant>

Last Night&#39;s Fragments:

1. A train where everything--including the engine and the tracks--is made of wood.

2. Crawling through a square tunnel with the Devil on my tail. Instead of the expected fire and brimstone, he was extremely cold.

----------


## oneironut

> <rant>
> Arrgh, that&#39;s it, no more MILD&#33; At least not as it&#39;s outlined in the book. It&#39;s a good method, the logic behind it is sound, but for me it&#39;s a total bust. If I wake up in the middle of the night and actively think for more than a few minutes, I&#39;m screwed as far as getting back to sleep is concerned. I keep goofing around with methods I&#39;ve never used, even though all my lucid dreams from years ago resulted from my own particular method. My mind knows this and won&#39;t accept anything else. Ok, Mind, you win, I&#39;ll play along.
> </rant>[/b]



Maybe I should rant more often, because I just had lucid dream #4 and carried out my goal task exactly as planned. In a way, I still used MILD, but I performed the steps in my own order to avoid the sleeping problem I mentioned above. I performed all of the intention and visualization portions of the method when I first went to bed. Each time I woke up during the night, I did nothing more than think "Remember that you&#39;re dreaming" before rolling over and going back to sleep.


*An Apple a Dream, Part 1
Monday, March 26, 2007*

I step into a dimly-lit storeroom with concrete walls and notice a man sprawled on the floor to my left. Another man is kneeling beside him. I cant see either mans face, but I start to think the one on the floor is my father, and I panic. I rush up and see that it is my father. The man kneeling beside his body turns to look at me, and hes also my father. Both of them are at least ten years younger than they should be.

Faced with such an obvious sign, I realize Im dreaming and calm down. Taking my attention away from the twin fathers, I hold out my arms and spin while telling myself, This is a dream. Im facing a blank concrete wall when I stop. Keeping my attention on the wall, I tell myself that Ill find an apple to look at when I turn around. I turn around and theres the apple, sitting in a little bowl on top of a wooden pillar. I walk over and put my face close to the apple, making sure not to touch it. Its lying on its side and the bowl is made of clear glass, so Im able to see all sides of it.

The fruit is oddly shaped, almost more like a green pepper than an apple. It has several long stems on top and a short one on the bottom with little green leaves growing from it. The skin, however, is exactly like a real apple: deep red with occasional patches of lighter color and tiny white spots all over. After studying the fruit I start to lose lucidity and go wandering off for a few seconds before waking up.






> *Goal 1* - Have at least one more lucid dream this month. *Done*
> *Goal 2* - Find an apple and look at it closely. Do not touch or eat it. *Done*[/b]



Goals Update
*Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 3/31/07.
*Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it.
*Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

Nice job on meeting those goals, man&#33;  ::goodjob2::

----------


## Kamikaze

Hey Oneironaut, I really like your dreams especially the dark ones like the hotel slime&#33; They are quite interesting and really fun to read. I am always wondering what happens next  ::bigteeth::

----------


## Twoshadows

> I just had lucid dream #4 and carried out my goal task exactly as planned.[/b]



All right&#33;&#33; That&#39;s great that you were able to do exaclty what you wanted to do.


Sounds like you are "getting good at this."  ::wink::

----------


## oneironut

Oneironaut - Thanks. Goal sheets work wonders. I keep graphs, too; sometimes I think I have LDs just so I can push that line somewhere above zero. Observe the amazing results I had in 2006:

** edit 3/31 - removed attachment **

Kamikaze - Hi, and thanks for reading. I&#39;m aiming for more upbeat dreams, but knowing me there&#39;ll always be plenty of slime and darkness to keep my readers happy.

Twoshadows - Lol, I guess I am. Thanks.


Just fragments today:

1. I&#39;m a movie star at the Oscars. It&#39;s been going for hours and hours. In the row ahead of me, Jack Nicholson is slumped over and snoring. I finally stand up and scream that I&#39;ll gladly give up my fame and fortune if this show would just END&#33;

2. I&#39;m sitting in the driveway of a house I lived in as a boy, polishing a samurai sword. The blade is made of black metal and curved like a sickle. I go inside to my room and put the sword on my bedside table, just in case I need it during the night.

3. I walk into the mini-mart where I bought comic books as a kid. They sure cost a lot more than they used to.

----------


## oneironut

Just so there&#39;s at least SOME point to this post:

Last night I tried getting into bed an hour earlier than usual and spent the extra time listening to quiet music and performing visualization exercises. I imagined myself back in the setting of my last lucid dream, recognized the same dreamsign, and performed my three current goal actions. My focus kept slipping away, but by the time I was ready to sleep I was able to get through the whole sequence. No LDs last night, of course, but that&#39;s alright. I&#39;m patient.

And since I eat them with lunch each day, I&#39;ve been getting to know apples real well since I started this current set of goals. First I was holding one an inch from my face and looking at it from all sides. Now I&#39;m practically fondling the darned things, concentrating on all the different surfaces (inside and out), temperature, etc.

Lol, I&#39;m glad I eat lunch alone. It looks rather...odd.   ::wink::

----------


## Moonbeam

> And since I eat them with lunch each day, I&#39;ve been getting to know apples real well since I started this current set of goals. First I was holding one an inch from my face and looking at it from all sides. Now I&#39;m practically fondling the darned things, concentrating on all the different surfaces (inside and out), temperature, etc.
> 
> Lol, I&#39;m glad I eat lunch alone. It looks rather...odd.  [/b]



Lol I know how you feel.  I&#39;ve been trying to hide my gruel-drinking technique from people at work.  Of coure the apple-examining is much weirder.   ::wink::  Good luck on your apple quest.

----------


## oneironut

> Lol I know how you feel.  I&#39;ve been trying to hide my gruel-drinking technique from people at work.  Of coure the apple-examining is much weirder.   Good luck on your apple quest.[/b]



Heh, I read your gruel recipe and it doesn&#39;t sound so bad. More like a fancy smoothie than ye olde medieval gruel. Thanks for the luck, and the same to you.   :smiley:  

Didn&#39;t make it on this last set of goals, but I&#39;d say March was a success since I had twice as many LDs as February (2 instead of just 1). 





> *Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 3/31/07. *Not Done*
> *Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it. *Not Done*
> *Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2. *Not Done*[/b]



Goals Update
*Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 4/15/07.
*Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it.
*Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2.

----------


## oneironut

*Who Needs Enemies?
Monday, April 02, 2007*

While three friends play a two-on-one tennis match, I stand off to the side at the net line and wonder why everybodys trying to shut me out. Every time I offer to join the lone player and balance out the sides, Im turned down and then promptly forgotten. Im starting to get irritated by this rude treatment from friends, but I stay quiet and try to be a good sport about it.

Looking around the park were in, I see some painted wooden walls a short distance from the tennis courts. I tell the others Im going over there to hit a ball around. They say I cant, that the walls have been damaged and are closed to the public. This news finally sets me off, and I start waving my tennis racquet around and using very colorful language to express how I feel about that, and them, and the way Im being treated.

This actually gets their attention, and they stop playing to come over and argue with me. All three of them keep placing blame on me, for what Im not sure. I calm down and say that if they didnt want me to come along, all they had to do was be honest and say so. I think that sounds rational, but the others get really angryas if I said something far worseand tell me Im very close to ending our friendship forever. Deciding theyre a lost cause no matter what I say, I hand over the racquet I borrowed and walk off to find my own way home.

----------


## oneironut

*Freedom Fighter Freak
Tuesday, April 03, 2007*

The refugee camp is little more than a line of ragged tents stretched along the riverbank. Families huddle over their fires to fight off the midnight cold and the even greater chill of hopelessness that hangs over the entire camp. Most of the adults have large packs by their side that they guard as closely as their own children. The packs are filled with books, the last traces of a free society almost crushed beneath an iron heel. Almost, but not quite.

I come charging out of the shadows and sprint through the camp, calling out that the government has been toppled and were all free once more.  The others start to celebrate, but I dont stop to join in the festivities. The fires fade behind me as I run out of the camp, but I can still see clearly by the light of the moon. Without breaking stride, I drop to all fours and take the shape of a wolf. The river beside me opens into a lake, and with a snarl I dive into the dark water.

For a while I swim across the bottom of the lake, passing between old wooden posts that must be supporting a bridge above. Past this point the lake bottom drops into a vast underwater valley. Spread out below are the remains of several buildings. They look very old-fashioned, like something youd see on Main Street at Disneyland. Glancing up, I see a human figure treading water at the surface, its bulky form silhouetted by the moonlight. I figure this must be someone I missed on my last sweep. Shape shifting again, I rocket towards the surface with a powerful swipe of my tail, my jaws open and ready.

----------


## oneironut

*Surfs Upand Over
Wednesday, April 04, 2007*

Dads driving us in his truck along a coastal highway one clear sunny day. The road is a ways up the hillside, so I have a great view of the beach and ocean below. The surf is crazy today; I can see hundred foot waves crashing repeatedly against the beach. I wonder if the surfers are having the time of their lives or fearing for them.

Just then a giant tidal wave comes crashing over the hillsfrom the inland sideand arcs over the highway. I cry out and brace myself for the impact, but the wave suddenly freezes in place. My fear turns to wonder as we drive safely through a shimmering, crystal clear tunnel of water.


*Hat Heaven*

Im lying in the middle of a department store aisle waiting for somebody to come open the section of the store I want to browse through. Nobody seems to think Im in the way and I have a nice soft pillow for my head, so Im content to wait as long as it takes. A clerk with a large key ring comes running along after a few moments and unlocks the doors.

I first stop at a table stacked with t-shirts. Theyre nice and thick but the sleeves are way too short for my taste; another inch or two and theyd be wifebeaters. I turn away from the table and spot a real treasure: an entire display of undecorated baseball caps in many colors. There isnt a single team logo, product logo, or obnoxious joke on any of them. I start grabbing hats by the handful.


*Bare Necessities*

	The electricity is being shut down in my neighborhood for several days, so I check into a rundown roadside motel. My low expectations are immediately shattered when I step through the door. My motel room is actually a suite, and a magnificent one at that. High vaulted ceilings, a larger kitchen than the one at home, and a very soft king-size bed. Theres always a catch, of course: other than the unmade bed, the entire suite is unfurnished.

----------


## oneironut

*Shakespeare in the Apocalypse
Friday, April 06, 2007*

Im observing a late-night event that looks like a cross between an auction and _The Road Warrior_. A motley crowd of ragged citizens and leather-clad bikers are bidding on mundane items like bags of chips andfor the grand finalea half-empty bucket of fried chicken. When the auction ends I turn to my companions and ask what were going to do tomorrow night. One of them reminds me about the production of _A Midwinter Nights Dream_ that Ive always wanted to see. A passerby overhears us and mentions that he went to see that a few weeks agojust before the production closed. I turn back to my companions and ask, Sowhat are we doing tomorrow night?

----------


## oneironut

*Eight Bacon Bacteria
Monday, April 09, 2007*

While strolling along the beach, I notice a sparkling white travel trailer with a sign on top advertising frozen yogurt. I step into the trailer expecting to find it converted to a yogurt shop, but it looks like a private residence instead. Worried that Ive just made myself guilty of breaking and entering, I start to back out of the trailer when I hear a woman offer to take my order. Shes standing by the kitchen counter and seems undisturbed by my presence, so I ask for a yogurt.

After a moment the woman hands me a paper cup of plain white yogurt with dark sprinkles on top. She keeps trying to offer me one of her own spoons, but I insist on taking a plastic spork from a box on the counter instead. Im told the yogurt will cost me eight dollars and I almost hand it back, but immediately change my mind. Maybe its really good and worth splurging on this one time.

I have plenty of cash in my wallet, but the bills have taken on the physical characteristics of uncooked bacon and are difficult to handle. After no little effort I manage to extract a five and three singles. At the very last moment I notice an extra five stuck to the first and carefully peel it off before handing over the money.

----------


## oneironut

*The Red Wizard
Tuesday, April 10, 2007*

Deep in the Mines of Moria, several members of the Fellowship are surrounded by giant monsters made of wood and stone. I come tottering along, a scrawny old man dressed only in a loincloth and carrying a gnarled staff. I tell the monsters to leave the strangers alone, but they ignore me. With a sigh, I tuck my staff under my arm and clap my hands twice. A shockwave of fire radiates from my body with each clap, destroying the monsters without harming the hobbits and humans.

Gandalf steps up beside me, quietly impressed with the display of magic. I ask if it would be alright for me to join his party. As smoking bits of monster rain down around us, I humbly insist that while I can never be as great a wizard as he is, everybody can use an extra hand from time to time. He laughs and agrees. Repeatedly offering thanks to him and the others, I pull a red cloak around me and follow my new companions into the next tunnel.

----------


## oneironut

> *Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 4/15/07. *Not Done*
> *Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it. *Not Done*
> *Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2. *Not Done*[/b]



Goals Update

*Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 4/30/07.
*Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it.
*Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2.

----------


## Twoshadows

> *The Red Wizard
> Tuesday, April 10, 2007*
> 
> Deep in the Mines of Moria, several members of the Fellowship are surrounded by giant monsters made of wood and stone. I come tottering along, a scrawny old man dressed only in a loincloth and carrying a gnarled staff. I tell the monsters to leave the strangers alone, but they ignore me. With a sigh, I tuck my staff under my arm and clap my hands twice. A shockwave of fire radiates from my body with each clap, destroying the monsters without harming the hobbits and humans.
> 
> Gandalf steps up beside me, quietly impressed with the display of magic. I ask if it would be alright for me to join his party. As smoking bits of monster rain down around us, I humbly insist that while I can never be as great a wizard as he is, everybody can use an extra hand from time to time. He laughs and agrees. Repeatedly offering thanks to him and the others, I pull a red cloak around me and follow my new companions into the next tunnel.[/b]




What a cool dream. I love it.


Good luck with your goals....  ::content::

----------


## oneironut

> What a cool dream. I love it.
> Good luck with your goals.... [/b]



Thanks as always for reading and for the encouragement. Guess I better give you some more to read.   ::wink::  


*The Man of Teeth
Saturday, April 21, 2007*

The meeting just wont come to order. Voices from a dozen overlapping conversations fill the conference room. Somebody produces a box of granola bars and starts tossing them out to the crowd. I sit quietly in my chair and wait for things to settle down. On the other side of the conference table, several individuals that look like the animated Superman from the 70s scowl at the chaos around them. They seem to be a mix of good and evil Supermen assuming a Superman with a mouth full of sharks teeth is not to be counted as one of the good guys.

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## oneironut

*Monday, April 23, 2007*

*Picking on Sarge*

On my way out of a building, I see a crazy-looking man standing by the door. Hes dressed in an old army jacket and saluting everybody who passes him. As I approach, he starts yelling angrily at one man whos halfway out the door. He keeps calling this stranger Sarge and looks like hes about to start a fight. I tentatively move towards the stranger in case he needs help fighting off the lunatic, but then I notice Sarge is a very large man with an equally large companion and I decide I wont need to get involved.

*Invisible Ultimatum*

The kitchen is one large space shared by four connected restaurants. Each restaurants section is separated from the others by low walls. Dressed all in black, I make my way through each section. I know the four restaurants have been feuding for many years, for religious or ethnic reasons as well as simple business competition. Nobody can see me, and I realize Im actually a ghost. Whispering into each cooks ear, I warn them that they had better stop this feud before it kills them all. If they don&#39;t, theyll find me waiting for them in the afterlife.

----------


## oneironut

*Paris and the Patty Melt Puppet
Tuesday, April 24, 2007*

Its early morning and none of the stores have opened when I arrive at the shopping center. I walk towards what I suspect is a donut shop, and this suspicion is confirmed when a police officer walks out carrying a pink box. A young woman in an equally pink uniform also walks out, hands me a small wrapped bundle, and goes back into the shop, locking the door behind her and pulling down the security gate.

Sitting at the curb in front of the shop, I unwrap the bundle expecting it to be a donut. Instead I find a thick patty melt. Although not a typical item on my breakfast menu, I happily start to munch away while waiting for the other stores to open. Im only a few bites into my sandwich when Paris Hilton and her entourage show up.

Paris asks if Ive seen a ventriloquist around with the same urgency one usually asks for a cop or a doctor. I tell her that she has one right here, and to demonstrate I start pulling the rye bread slices from my patty melt in imitation of a mouth while talking in a Mickey Mouse voice. A stickler for detail, I even try to make my voice sound garbled, as if the patty melt is having a difficult time speaking with a mouthful of beef and melted cheese.

----------


## Twoshadows

> and to demonstrate I start pulling the rye bread slices from my patty melt in imitation of a mouth while talking in a Mickey Mouse voice. A stickler for detail, I even try to make my voice sound garbled, as if the patty melt is having a difficult time speaking with a mouthful of beef and melted cheese.[/b]



That&#39;s really funny. Wish I could have witnessed that....  ::chuckle::

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> *Paris and the Patty Melt Puppet
> Tuesday, April 24, 2007*[/b]



LMFAO. That&#39;s hilarious.  ::chuckle::

----------


## Moonbeam

I concur--one of the strangest dreams I have ever read.  All I can think, is:  Don&#39;t play with your food&#33;  LOL&#33;

I&#39;d like to have a patty-melt dream.

----------


## oneironut

> That&#39;s really funny. Wish I could have witnessed that.... [/b]







> LMFAO. That&#39;s hilarious. [/b]







> I concur--one of the strangest dreams I have ever read.  All I can think, is:  Don&#39;t play with your food&#33;  LOL&#33;
> 
> I&#39;d like to have a patty-melt dream.[/b]



Thanks guys&#33; Sorry for the late response, I decided to take some time off. I had that crazy dream during a week of  being sick to my stomach, so the dream patty melt was just about the only food I had.   ::barf:: 

*SWATing Some Badguys
Tuesday, May 01, 2007*

We have a hostage situation here. Unknown number of assailants, unknown number of hostages. Im stationed outside the building, scanning for potential targets through the scope of my heavy machine gun. This job is quite easy since the portion of the building facing the street is made entirely of clear glass. I spot movement on an upper floor and lock on to a heavyset man in shabby clothes sneaking through adjoining offices. I recognize him as an undercover officer but continue to track him, only now with the intent of covering rather than perforating him.

The undercover officer suddenly reacts as if hes been discovered, but hes blocking my view of any targets. I keep thinking Get out of the way&#33; and he finally drops to the floor, giving me a clear view of one of the assailants. I pull the trigger slightly and the machine gun slowly fires single shots that connect with the target. I pull harder and the machine gun starts firing at a normal rate. The target dances the little dance, but doesnt go down.

The scene shifts and Im back to scanning the building for targets. I spot one on a lower floor and prepare to fire. The target seems to know this and makes a run for it across my field of view. I swing the machine gun to follow and am just about to shoot when I notice a group of civilians on the street about to walk into my line of fire. Theyre spaced far enough apart that Im able to fire short bursts between them, but the target gets away.

An officer standing nearby tells me I should have just shot through the crowd. I glare at him but dont reply.






> Goals Update
> 
> *Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream by 4/30/07. *Not Done*
> *Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it. *Not Done*
> *Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2. *Not Done*[/b]



*Goal 1* - Have at least one lucid dream this month. 
*Goal 2* - Find an apple and pick it up. Touch all its parts, but do not eat it.
*Goal 3* - End the dream and wake up after completing Goal 2.

----------


## oneironut

*Master and Commandeered
Wednesday, May 02, 2007*

Our ship has arrived at a French colony on some unnamed Pacific island to deliver supplies. As one of the regular crew, I go ashore to help unload the cargo. Im walking up the beach with some cartons of milk when Im stopped by a high-ranking official who sailed with us from England. Hes an incredibly pompous man and nobody on the ship likes him much, including the captain and officers. 

The official points towards a half-built structure and tells me to leave the cartons there. I try to explain that the colony administrators want the cartons to go elsewhere, but he doesnt appear to care in the slightest about what they want. I cant entirely understand what hes saying as he rambles on, but I get the feeling hes planning to take over this colony. Im not of high enough rank to disagree, so I reluctantly obey the order.

Just then several of the colony administrators rush over, waving their arms and screaming in French. Right behind them is the captain of our ship. Everybody gathers together to argue, and Im reluctantly pulled into the group. The administrators are furious, the official looks bored, the captain is frowning at everybody, and I feel terribly uncomfortable and out of place. The captain notices this and dismisses me, but warns me not to carry out the last order I was given.

I leave them behind and go back to my duties. I happen to glance out to sea and spot two massive fleets engaged in all out warfare just off the coast. Ships-of-the-line flying British and French colors trade broadsides at close range, lumbering through a haze of smoke and chaos. Somehow avoiding destruction, a tiny rowboat manned only by a young woman in an elegant gown weaves around the warships and races towards shore. Shes crying out the captains name. I wave to catch her attention and point down the beach to where I left the captain with the administrators and the official. Only hes not there anymore, and I realize that he might actually be out in the battle, fighting with a ship thats my only way home.

Some time passes, and our fleet triumphs. A surrender ceremony is about to start on the beach, and for some reason I and a few other minor crewmembers are representing England instead of the ships captain and officers. A solider carrying the French flag on a pole marches over and hands it to me while the colonys citizens watch with murder in their eyes. Thankfully the flag is very large, so I try to hide behind it and keep the crowd from seeing my face, all the while daydreaming about running the flagpole through the pompous official that started this mess in the first place.

The crewmember beside me wisely announces that the colony will be permitted to keep its flag, which seems to diffuse the crowd&#39;s anger. I gladly hand the flag back over and stroll down the beach. The fleets have dispersed and theres still no sign of our ship or captain. I pass a group of sailors who joke about how our ship will sail up at any moment with the captains annoying little dog barking at us from the prow. The others laugh as one sailor calls out, Yip&#33; Yip&#33; Yip&#33; in a high-pitched voice.

----------


## oneironut

*Shazoom&#33;
Thursday, May 03, 2007*

On the floor of the futuristic chamber is a glowing disc about ten feet in diameter. The other superheroes are standing on it and impatiently waiting for me to get the device working. I reach out and fire bolts of purple lightning from my fingers into the disk. Its glow intensifies for a moment, but nothing else happens. I try again, using both hands this time, with the same result. Superman steps down from the disk and storms off, grumbling that he doesnt need any damn teleporter to get places. Too embarrassed to stick around, I quickly follow him. I realize I havent picked a name for myself yet. All the good ones are taken already, so all I can come up with is the lame Shazoom.

----------


## oneironut

Only a short fragment of a nightmare I just had...

*Screwed-Up DV Forum "Upgrade"
Friday, May 4,  2007*

An ugly, unintuitive layout. No more thread subtitles. Post formatting messed up. Please let me wake up now...

----------


## Twoshadows

Good...I hope this means I'm still asleep too..... ::?:

----------


## oneironut

> Good...I hope this means I'm still asleep too.....



'Fraid not, muahahaha!

My journal is going on hiatus for a couple days until I see how things work out with this new board. I understand that installation requires time to fix the problems, but launch bugs aside I've seen nothing so far that makes this better or even equal to what we had before. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

----------


## oneironut

*A Fair Trial
Monday, May 07, 2007*

The young woman in the defendants chair is only moments away from losing it. Shes pale and trembling with tears streaming down her cheeks. I can almost feel the scream building. Quickly sitting beside her, I take her hand in mine and whisper reassuring words. They seem to help, and she even manages a faint smile. I kiss her cheek and tell her that shell be proven innocent today.

The judge enters the courtroom, and I reluctantly leave the woman to take a seat in the front row. His black robe is open in front, and Im concerned to see hes wearing a police officers uniform underneath. Without taking his seat, the judge immediately starts yelling accusations at the woman. 

What the hell is this? Im about to protest when the judge turns his attention to me, accusing me of being the womans drunken accomplice, among other things. I laugh at this and tell him Ive never been drunk in my life. As this judge/cop/prosecutor or whatever he is goes back to verbally abusing the innocent woman, my outrage grows and I realize theres about to be some disorder in the court. I dont think Ill be acting alone, either; most of the court spectators are grumbling angrily.

----------


## oneironut

*Crash & Camp*
*Tuesday, May 08, 2007*

  Im driving down a city street late at night, looking for a place to park my van so I can sleep. I notice a car backing out of its spot and pull up close behind, but when the car drives away I discover another car has somehow managed to take the spot before me. I get very angry and decide Im parking here anyway. I pull in quickly and crash into the car that stole my spot. Its rear is badly damaged, but I dont care. I move to the back of the van and start clearing boxes out of the way to make room for my cot.

----------


## oneironut

*The Jade Golem
Thursday, May 10, 2007*

Dressed only in a hooded magicians robe, I walk down a dim corridor. It turns out Im strolling not through a castle or dungeon, but a shopping mall after hours. Coming to a courtyard area, I see a statue of a giant human head carved from jade. The sculpture is not true to life; the nose, cheeks, chin, and forehead are sharp and blockish.

As I watch, several large pieces of jade float down from the darkness high above. They have been carved into spikes, spheres, and other geometric shapes. Spinning about like planets orbiting a star, the pieces of jade start attaching themselves to the statue, forming what looks like some sort of headdress or crown. I can hear faint whispering voices as this happens, and I wonder who is performing this magic.

When the final pieces are in place, the statue abruptly comes to life. It is not a pleasant birth. The statues mouth stretches open in a silent scream as faceted jade eyes roll in their sockets.

----------


## oneironut

*Oceans Foot
Sunday, May 13, 2007*

Im a member of the gang from _Oceans 11_, and were preparing for our next job. My role in the scam requires me to have a limp, so Im told my foots going to have to be cut. Ocean himself has my left ankle in a tight grip with one hand, and a short-bladed knife in the other. I resist and ask why I cant just pretend to have a limp. Ocean tells me that it has to be real and without another word slices the top of my left foot. It doesnt hurt, but theres a lot of blood, enough that it looks like my leg has been dipped in red paint up to the knee. The bleeding stops after a moment, my foot is bandaged up, and everybody goes back to work.

I unwrap the bandage to take a look, and Im horrified to see my foot has been cut wide open. I can clearly see the muscle and nerves, and theres also a bundle of tissue that looks like pasta. Worried that some foreign object has gotten into the wound, I try to pull the bundle out, but its so firmly connected to my flesh that I decide it must be a natural part of my foot. I push everything back into place as best I can and reapply the bandage.

By this point Ive had enough, so I announce to the others that Im dropping out of this job. Nobody argues with me and seems quite understanding. Ocean even gives me a bundle of money as compensation. I take the money and walk out of there with a very convincing limp.

On my way out of the building, I come across an old Chinese woman who notices my injury and tells me she knows magical techniques for healing it. I cant entirely understand the name of the method because shes talking so fast, but I clearly hear the word tiki in the middle of it all. I accept the womans offer and follow her into a nearby restaurant that she owns. The interior is richly decorated with Asian art and sculpture, and the woman stops to give me a rapid explanation of each piece.

Moving into the restaurants main dining room, the woman ducks under a low archway and motions for me to follow. I cant stoop low enough because of my injury, but the archway turns out to be made of flimsy materials and I break through it easily. Im right behind her as she moves from table to table checking on her customers. She seems very selective in who she serves; at one table, she fills the glasses of a couple members of the group but ignores the rest.

----------


## Moonbeam

> *Oceans Foot*
> *Sunday, May 13, 2007*
> 
> I unwrap the bandage to take a look, and Im horrified to see my foot has been cut wide open. I can clearly see the muscle and nerves, and theres also a bundle of tissue that looks like pasta. Worried that some foreign object has gotten into the wound, I try to pull the bundle out, but its so firmly connected to my flesh that I decide it must be a natural part of my foot. I push everything back into place as best I can and reapply the bandage.



Yuk, that sounds like a horrible dream.

I really liked your Jade Golem dream.

----------


## oneironut

> Yuk, that sounds like a horrible dream.
> 
> I really liked your Jade Golem dream.



Yeah, that was a rough one. Must have been because I watched a gory horror movie that day. I'm glad you like the jade golem dream; I had that the night I finished reading a fantasy novel.

Yesterday I watched _Heathers,_ but unfortunately Winona Ryder didn't show up. :p

*
This Looks Like a Job forMe!
Monday, May 14, 2007*

A disturbance outside the classroom keeps distracting me from the lecture, so I go outside to investigate. I find three angry men threatening students with lead pipes and clubs. I calmly tell them to leave the others alone. They now start threatening me instead, so I grab all of them with one hand and shake them until their weapons go clattering to the ground.

Im back at my desk for only a moment before I get the sense that many people are in great danger. Making a lame excuse to the teacher, I run back outside and, after making sure there are no witnesses, fly into the air at high speed until the entire school is just a speck in the distance. My perspective shifts to third-person so I can get a clear look at myself. Im dressed in the usual red and blue costume, but I look like Im made of plastic and have artificial joints at the elbows and knees. Im an action figure! I find this so amusing I use a disembodied hand to adjust myself into a suitably dramatic flying pose.

My perspective shifts back to first-person as I reach my destination: a small-city shrouded in an evil black fog. The fog seems to originate from an industrial building in the center of town. I come crashing in through the roof and find myself in a laboratory. Several scientists beg me for help, and I fly them out to safety. Returning to the lab, I find a rectangular opening in the floor exposing a giant mechanism that must be generating this evil fog. Theres no light below, so I can just make out the shape of gears and pistons in the gloom.

Im about to jump into the hole when I suddenly have some doubts. One of the risks of being so strong, I think, is becoming overconfident to the point of throwing yourself in front of something you cant handle. Still, the machine doesnt appear to be made of the green stuff, so I have to take a chance. I dive into the machine, and with a few sweeps of my arms turn it into scrap.

Flying back outside, I discover the problems arent over yet. Several tornados have touched down on the city and are tearing up everything in their path. I fly into the nearest and let it spin me about a bit before I start spinning myself in the opposite direction. Somehow this drains the tornados strength until it falls apart. 

Im about to tackle the next one when the scene abruptly shifts to me sitting in my living room. On the wall is a framed copy of the front page for that major metropolitan newspaper I work for. The headline photo shows me in action as I save the city.

----------


## The Cusp

I'm geussing you watch smallville?

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> My perspective shifts to third-person so I can get a clear look at myself. Im dressed in the usual red and blue costume, but I look like Im made of plastic and have artificial joints at the elbows and knees. Im an action figure! I find this so amusing I use a disembodied hand to adjust myself into a suitably dramatic flying pose.



Hahahaha. That's f'ckin awesome.  ::chuckle:: 
Cool dream, man. I like when you flew into the tornado and spun the other way. Good stuff.

----------


## oneironut

> I'm geussing you watch smallville?



Only a second or two of the promo at the start of my _Batman Begins_ DVD, before I skip past it. I don't watch TV at all, actually.





> Hahahaha. That's f'ckin awesome. 
> Cool dream, man. I like when you flew into the tornado and spun the other way. Good stuff.



Thanks. I guess I was demonstrating the first law of "Superman Movie Physics": spinning something in the opposite direction will fix all problems, like reversing time and bringing reporters back to life. 


*Just Business
Tuesday, May 15, 2007*

The boss is seated directly across from me, and like everybody else at the table he has several bundles of cash and a well-used ashtray in front of him. Im the only one not smoking, so as a substitute I have a prescription bottle filled with orange Tic-Tacs that I keep popping down nervously as I watch the meeting.

The current discussion involves the man seated at the end of the table to my right. I cant understand the exact words, but I understand the boss wants this man to do something that will cost him a lot of money and possibly land him in prison. The man points out the risk to him, and the boss almost contemptuously tosses some bundles of cash out to the center of the table to show hes willing to cover the loss. I pick up one of my own bundles and fan the bills with my thumb, perhaps to enticeor maybe warnthe man to cooperate.

He doesnt seem to notice, and flat-out refuses to go along with the plan. The boss seems to take this well; he stands, holds out his arms to the man, and the two of them hug like old friends. Suddenly the boss kisses the man forcefully on the lips. I realize the significance of this and brace myself for what I know is about to happen.

The shots sound like little puffs of air: pfft! pfft! pfft! The boss is still smiling, but I can see the rage in his eyes as he raises the silenced pistol, stuffs the barrel in the now dead mans mouth, and continues firing. I turn away in disgust, wondering if one of us is going to get hit by a ricochet.

After an uncomfortably long time the boss lets the body fall to the floor and ends the meeting. I quickly pull on my black overcoat and start collecting my money. I leave the prescription bottle on the table because nobody else seems all that concerned about fingerprints or evidence. The boss wishes us a good night as we leave, all smiles and good cheer like this has been a friendly social gathering.

I step out of the lobby onto a city street lined with other high-rise hotels. I remember that my wife and daughter have come to visit me and are staying at a place nearby. As I walk, I try to focus my thoughts on eating ice cream and watching cartoons with my little girl rather than tonights business.

----------


## oneironut

*The Ghost Ship
Wednesday, May 16, 2007*

From a high vantage point I watch the old sailing ship fight its way across a dark and treacherous sea. A voice narrates the history of these waters and the spirits who rule them. As I listen, I realize that what I took to be clouds are actually swirling masses of translucent figures. Most of them appear human, but many of them are not.

Returning my attention to the ship, I notice a member of the crew working alone up in the rigging. His body seems to shimmer, and suddenly a ghostly duplicate is torn from him. Struggling futilely, the spirit is pulled into the great mass above. The crewman appears unharmed and unaware of what just happened, but I know its a sign he will not survive this voyage.

----------


## Moonbeam

I really enjoy your dreams. Eerie little stories.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> *The Ghost Ship
> Wednesday, May 16, 2007*



Ooh. Good one. That would be incredible to witness.

----------


## oneironut

> I really enjoy your dreams. Eerie little stories.



Thank you, I appreciate that. Too bad I keep waking up before the story ends... ::?: 





> Ooh. Good one. That would be incredible to witness.



Thanks. The creepy part was when I woke up and realized I must've been one of the ghosts (floating high in the air, no body that I could see). Wooooooo!


I slept poorly last night, so all I remember is a fragment that I owned my first car again. Since said car was a cherry '68 Camaro, this could be considered a "sweet dream."

----------


## Twoshadows

You do have very interesting, unusual dreams that put you in a completely different setting than real life. Must be fun.

----------


## meggyfayephotography

I'm confused with all of the user names... there's Oneironut, Oneironaut and Oneironaught. I don't understand it spelled any of the three ways... can someone explain it to me?

----------


## oneironut

> You do have very interesting, unusual dreams that put you in a completely different setting than real life. Must be fun.



Thanks. It is fun sometimes, but it makes becoming lucid difficult. I'm so used to imagining unreal scenarios when I'm awake that I let them slide by too easily when I'm dreaming.





> I'm confused with all of the user names... there's Oneironut, Oneironaut and Oneironaught. I don't understand it spelled any of the three ways... can someone explain it to me?



Hi meggy, nice job with having your first lucid so quickly. I don't know if you got your answer elsewhere already, but "oneironaut" is a term coined by lucid dream researcher Stephen LaBerge that means "explorer of the dream world." As far as being able to tell the three of us apart, you're on your own, because I still have trouble with that myself. :p


Nothing new for the past few days due to uninteresting dreams or bad recall. My computer got wiped today and I lost about a month's worth of entries from my offline journal. Thankfully I've got the online version to cut and paste from. Methinks it's time for a big external hard drive and an iron-clad backup routine...

----------


## meggyfayephotography

> My computer got wiped today and I lost about a month's worth of entries from my offline journal. Thankfully I've got the online version to cut and paste from. Methinks it's time for a big external hard drive and an iron-clad backup routine...




Buy a Flash Drive! Here's a link for a 2GB flash drive from BestBuy.com. I think it's a good price for a brand new one, but you can always search for used ones on ebay and such.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

You could also set up a partition. I've got all of my system files and program files (the corruptables) on one side of the partition, and everything else on the other. So whenever I have to reformat, I can just re-install windows on the drive with the system files, and I still get to keep everything else, untouched.  :smiley:

----------


## oneironut

> Buy a Flash Drive! Here's a link for a 2GB flash drive from BestBuy.com. I think it's a good price for a brand new one, but you can always search for used ones on ebay and such.







> You could also set up a partition. I've got all of my system files and program files (the corruptables) on one side of the partition, and everything else on the other. So whenever I have to reformat, I can just re-install windows on the drive with the system files, and I still get to keep everything else, untouched.



Hey guys, I'm back in business. Thanks for the suggestions, but I chose Door #3. I wound up buying an external hard drive to store all my docs and the spotless image of my C drive I built yesterday with Norton Ghost (I'm functioning on 3 hours sleep thanks to that little project). Now if my computer takes a dive, I can get everything back to normal in less than an hour.

No journal entry today due to the 3 hours of sleep, but I've recovered my offline journal and will get back to it starting tonight.

----------


## oneironut

Fragments from last night's dreams:

1. There's a security camera in the garage. Instead of a lens it has a little screen with a human face on it. I wonder if the face is just an image or if somebody is really in there. I start asking questions to the camera to find out for sure.

2. I turn on my side and find a window alongside my bed. On the other side is a swimming pool. The turquoise water goes right up to the bottom edge of the glass. Suddenly I'm swimming in the pool. I can see clearly underwater even without goggles.

3. I'm the running mate in a school election. We're sitting at a table on stage presenting our platform. The candidate is nervous and not very smart; he just stands there and awkwardly reads from a note card. I plan to improv a rousing little speech when my turn comes, but the candidate ends our presentation without giving me a chance to speak.

4. I'm sitting with a man in a car parked on the side of the road. We're waiting for something, but I'm not sure what. I get out of the car and walk down the road until I find what looks like a funeral procession. One of the mourners tells me who died. I go back to tell the other man, but he's driven off and left me stranded.

----------


## The Cusp

OOOOoooOooo..... I get it now.  There are TWO oneironuts!  Two different ones.  It all makes sense now.  I was wondering why this Oneironut guy had two DJs.

You guys should play paper rock scissors to see who has to change names.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

Actually, there are three. =/

There is Oneiro*naut* (yours truly), oneiro*nut* and Oneiro*naught*.

The confusion is really starting to grate on my nerves, though, to be honest. If it wouldn't completely screw everything up by having a crazy amount of posts with the name Oneironaut in them, I'd have changed it by now.

----------


## Moonbeam

There is also a rarely seen member named aoneironaut. _ A_nd a just plain Oneiro.

I can keep you guys straight.  The ones I know anyway.  It doesn't seem confusing once you associate the names with personalities, like IRL, people with the same name.

----------


## The Cusp

And One Ironaught to rule them all!   Ok, i just make that one up, but i wouldnt be suprised to see it one day.

----------


## oneironut

I don't think the name business is that big a deal, so moving on...

Only a fragment from last night, but a pretty cool one. I was at a rack of comic books and started reading an issue of _Batman_ that, based on the art style, looked to be from the 70s. After flipping through some pages I suddenly _was_ Batman, zooming up the side of a building on a grappling line. When I reached the top of the building I could see Gotham City spread out before me. It was just like the Gotham from _Batman Begins_, but larger and even more imposing. The details of the skyscrapers and streets were very vivid, and I took it all in for a few seconds before waking up.

I know, I know...I dream about being a cool hero like Batman and I just stare at a bunch of buildings. Have to rethink my priorities.

----------


## oneironut

More fragments today. I'm going to stop setting exact monthly goals. Real life is making it difficult to concentrate, and repeatedly setting goals that get missed is not helping. I'm just going to relax and let things happen at their own pace.

1. I'm watching a puppet show that uses toy action figures instead of regular puppets. The antagonist looks like the villain from the game _Jade Empire_. Chewbacca also makes an appearance, but this isn't the stiff-limbed, goosestepping Chewbacca from the 70s. He's fully articulated and has all sorts of levers to adjust his body and facial expressions.

2. A teenage boy who will eventually grow up to be a gangster is playing the piano. He has huge front teeth covered with braces. He's singing in Italian so I can't understand the lyrics, but I'm guessing the song is about food because he has tomato sauce all over his hands. After a while he rests his head on the keyboard and falls asleep with a smile. The piano keys are stained red.

----------


## oneironut

Dropped out of journaling for a while, but I'm back with a short lucid from Sunday and a non-lucid from last night...


*Shopping* <st1:city><st1>*Mecca (Lucid)*</st1></st1:city>
  <st1:date year="2007" day="18" month="6">*Sunday, June 17, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
  I’m walking through a crowded shopping mall. The ceiling is an intricately carved golden dome, like a cathedral or a mosque. The sight of it makes me realize that I’m dreaming. My thoughts are fuzzy and I’m having trouble maintaining lucidity, but I manage to spin and tell myself, “This is a dream” several times. With no other goal in mind, I repeatedly jump high in the air to touch the top of the dome before the dream fades to a new scene and takes my lucidity with it.


*Risky Diversion<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="19" month="6">*Tuesday, June 19, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
I’m being held captive in a suite decorated to look like children’s bedrooms. The decor doesn’t fool me, because I clearly remember the cold metal corridors I was led through to get here. I decide to escape, so I collect all the pillows from the beds and light each one on fire. I toss a burning pillow into each room. My plan is for the fires to trigger alarms and a response, so I can slip out in the smoke and confusion. Assuming, of course, my captives care enough about my survival to send in a fire-fighting crew.<o></o>

----------


## Moonbeam

Hey welcome back, I missed the weird little story dreams.

----------


## Twoshadows

Yes...we've missed you..... :smiley: .

Congrats on the LD!

----------


## oneironut

Thanks you two, I appreciate that!  :smiley: 

Here's the next weird little story...

*The Hunt for Red Ice Cream<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="20" month="6">*Wednesday, June 20, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
           I stumble across an old comrade while strolling through the campus. He isnt so difficult to spot, as hes wearing the full dress uniform of a Soviet naval officer. Im suspicious of our too casual conversation, and sure enough he slips me a data CD in the middle of an anecdote. Damn, I thought I was finally out for good!

  I return to my trailer and load the CD onto a laptop while sitting on the toilet. Grainy black and white satellite photos of submarines and officers flash across the screen. After some time studying the images I realize Id better get up before my legs go numb.

              Now Im riding shotgun in an old compact car with my boss behind the wheel and several coworkers jammed in the backseat. One of the girls has stretched her leg so its resting on the console between the front seats, which is annoying because I want to rest my arm there. We park in front of an ice cream shop and my boss goes inside while the rest of us wait.

              The car suddenly starts to roll through the parking lot. I reach over for the wheel to take control, but the girls foot keeps getting in my way. After a few awkward moments of steering with one hand and braking with the other, I manage to park the car without running anything over. Ive had enough of this car, so I go into the shop to help my boss carry out our ice cream. On our way back to the car I recognize a nearby landmark and realize I can walk home in just a few minutes, which sounds like a great idea right about now.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

It's been a week of bland dreams or no recall, but here's a late entry from Monday...


*First Day of* <st1><st1>*Magic*</st1><st1>* School*</st1></st1>
  <st1:date year="2007" day="25" month="6">*Monday, June 25, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
A childhood friend and I are traveling across the desert to a school where we hope to become magicians. The road ahead is blocked by a deep canyon, so I transform myself into a bird to fly across. My sorcery is definitely crude; I keep telling myself Im a bird, but I feel more like myself just flapping my arms awkwardly. Still, its enough to get me across the chasm. I look back to my friend, who appears to be stuck on the other side because he cant transform. I try to change his shape myself without success, so I sit down to wait while he walks the long way around.

  Together again, we approach a cluster of squat adobe buildings. We enter the closest and find ourselves in a large kitchen. The shelves are filled with elaborate, brightly colored pastries. My friend immediately starts helping himself to some. I notice several cooks watching us warily from the other end of the kitchen and warn my friend to leave the food alone.

We pass through a door and find ourselves in a crude little computer lab. Several kids are seated at the terminals. The screens all show wireframe technical graphics, and I start to wonder if weve come to the right school. An instructor who looks like Gene Hackman notices us, tells us to follow him and leads us back outside. He mutters insults at us every step of the way.

After some time we arrive in a grassy field and sit down. The instructor starts asking each of us a series of odd logic questions. They seem very complicated, but I suspect thats just a trick and so I give very simple answers. Our replies are met with more insults, but I can tell from the instructors expression that hes satisfied.
 
Returning with us to the lab, the instructor suddenly points to one of the kids at the computers and orders my friend to expel him for cheating. My friend appears as if hes going to be sick, but he does as hes told. Were then led through another door into a library that seems to contain nothing but fantasy novels. Were greeted by the librarian, a severe woman with a short beehive hairdo and a muddy gray suit.

----------


## oneironut

*A Captive Audience<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="2" month="7">*Monday, July 02, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              The room is completely bare of furniture, so I sit on the floor with my back against a wall. Theres a young woman sitting next to me. On the opposite wall is a television set showing some program. I cant understand the exact details of the show, but the woman and I are entertained as we watch and joke about it. The only door in the room opens and a man who looks like Samuel L. Jackson gets shoved in. He sits against the opposite wall, glances up at the television, and immediately starts complaining about the show. I remind him that we dont exactly have a choice here.

  After a while, I get up and try the door. Its unlocked, and I step out to find many jeeps and soldiers standing guard outside. One of the soldiers yells at me in a language I dont understand, but I get the point well enough when he fires a burst from his machine gun right over my head. I duck back into the room and resume my spot on the floor. The woman rests her head on my shoulder and we just sit and watch and wait.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

*The Path of Most Resistance<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="3" month="7">*Tuesday, July 03, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
              The colors of the forest are almost completely blanketed with snow. I march alone through knee-high drifts, determined to find my way back to civilization. The trees are growing so close together that they form walls, a maze with only a few paths for me to follow. I look ahead to see which way is the best to go and avoid the routes that appear to lead to only more woods and shadows. There are strange forces at work here, as if somebody or something is trying to lead me astray. Whenever I choose a direction to walk, the destination I see ahead is not where I end up.

              Crossing yet another of these invisible thresholds, I find myself standing with some companions in a large concrete parking garage. Im relieved to be out of the forest, but also eager to leave this garage. With the others following, I start down a nearby ramp to the level below, circle to my left, and continue down the next ramp. After a while I realize this garage operates by the same rules as the forest because I keep descending without reaching the ground level. It occurs to me that I should go back up the ramp towards the upper floors. My companions argue against this, but I ignore them and start walking. Within a few steps Im suddenly outside and looking up at a cloudy sky.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

*Box Break<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="5" month="7">*Thursday, July 05, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              It isnt as uncomfortable as it looks. Theres enough length for me to stretch out my legs, and Ive settled into a comfortable position on my right side. Even the cold metal doesnt bother me; in fact, Im just about to drift to sleep when I realize its time to get back to work. I push up the lid and rise like Dracula emerging from his coffinor in this case, a high school locker lying on the ground. A woman sitting on a bench nearby looks up from her book with a startled expression. Its not as uncomfortable as it looks, I say with a smile as I get back on my feet.

              I take a quick look around the store and find everything to be in order. Somebodys already working at the register, which is fine by me. Theres a brief commotion at the entrance when a mall security guard abruptly shuts off the lights and starts pulling the security gate down. We yell at him that its at least eight more hours before the store closes. The guard reluctantly turns the lights on again, but only pushes the gate halfway up.

              I move around the store busying myself with various tasks, although I seem to spend more time browsing through the books than I do shelving them. One of the staff walks up and tries to give me a pink paperbacka romance, I assumeand insists Ill enjoy this one. I offer a wisecrack response, something along the lines of, If a books title lettering has more curves than a Formula 1 racetrack, then I dont read it.

----------


## Moonbeam

Hey that's a pretty funny remark.

I'd spend more time reading than shelving if I worked in a library.

Did the words seem normal?

----------


## oneironut

> Hey that's a pretty funny remark.
> 
> I'd spend more time reading than shelving if I worked in a library.
> 
> Did the words seem normal?



Heh, I thought it was kind of lame when I woke up, but the dream characters laughed like crazy. They're always a good audience, regardless of the quality of my material. I don't remember any words. I was going through the motions of looking at the books, but I don't think I actually saw anything.


*Climbing the* <st1><st1>*Movie*</st1><st1>* Palace*</st1></st1>*<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="6" month="7">*Friday, July 06, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              God, this _Fantastic Four_ movie sucks! Having the Joker and the Penguin as villains is an interesting creative choice, but I still feel like Ive been sitting in the theater for hours when its only been a few minutes. The scene where the four heroes and two villains are driving around together in the old jalopy from _The Beverly Hillbillies_ is the last straw for me. I storm out of the theater and leave my companions to endure as best they can.

              The theater is in the center of a small desert town where everything looks like its been bleached by the sun. The theater itself is an ancient ziggurat of white stone. Having some time to kill until the movie ends, I decide it would be fun to climb the building. The first level is just low enough for me to grab, and with a little effort I pull myself up. As I get higher I start to feel acrophobic, but I remind myself that if I slip Ill only fall a short way to the next lowest level. When I finally reach the top I sit and enjoy the stark but beautiful desert landscape stretching off to the horizon in all directions. I also spot my father pacing the sidewalk in front of the theater. Guess he didnt like the movie, either.<o></o>

----------


## EmilySian

I had a dream relating to fantastic 4 2 last night......just reminded me after reading the part of your dream about fantastic 4  :smiley:

----------


## oneironut

Hi Emily, thanks for reading. Interesting that we both dreamt about the same movie. Too bad it wasn't a better movie.

*Extraction<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="7" month="7">*Sunday, July 07, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
              The man who’s hired me to abduct him is your stereotypical nerdy scientist: disheveled hair, glasses, and tweeds. I have to keep shoving him along ahead of me as we run down the corridor. There’s a third man with us. I’m not sure exactly who he is, but he appears to be helping, so I won’t shoot him for now.

              I sense that guards are about to spot us, so we duck into a nearby restroom. We pile into a stall and I order the scientist to sit on the throne as normal while the third man and I climb onto the walls so our feet aren’t visible. It looks like the ruse is going to work, but then the “brilliant” scientist starts talking to us. A man looks over the top of the stall and cries out an alarm. 

  I jump out of the stall with my pistol already drawn. Three more men have entered the restroom. I order them to drop to the ground. The first man slowly moves towards me, so I shoot him in the arm. Another man rushes to attack as the first one falls, and I put a round in his upper leg. The others finally get the point that I’m serious and stop moving. As I’m leading my group out of the restroom, a woman suddenly appears and starts rebuking me for the violence. I keep the pistol aimed at her just in case, but I still politely apologize and point out that I gave the two men superficial wounds just to stop them.

  We manage to get to the street without further incident. In the parking lot I see a pair of gangsters loitering about. I’m expecting them, so I rush over to talk and find out where we’re meeting. I then usher my group into a red Camaro and speed away. I tell them that we’re going to find a gun shop to break into and better arm ourselves, just in case the upcoming meeting goes sour. I also warn the scientist that I’ll cancel our deal and dump him on the street if he does anything stupid again.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

*Tuesday, July 10, 2007*
*
Two to Tango<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="10" month="7"></st1:date><o></o>
              The band leader listens as I sing the tune I want him to play. At one point I make a surprisingly accurate imitation of violins. When the music starts, I approach our hosts daughter and invite her to dance. Her red gown is quite a contrast to my blue suit, and all eyes are on us as I lead her on to the dance floor. Also watching intently is a nondescript little man at the back of the crowd. Our eyes meet briefly and I give him an almost imperceptible nod. I see him slip out of the ballroom unnoticed just before my partner and I start our first turn.
  <o></o><o></o>*

Pop Essay<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="10" month="7"></st1:date><o></o>
              Normally I would enjoy writing a paper on a science fiction novel, especially one as rich as _Dune_, but not with a ten minute time limit. Yet thats exactly how long I have to finish this surprise test our teacher has just sprung on us. As if that wasnt bad enough, everybody in the classroom is doing their best to distract me. Students chatter, cell phones ring, even the idiot teacher wont shut up. Realizing I dont have time to think things through properly, I start writing as fast as I can and hope itll make some sense.<o></o>

----------


## Moonbeam

A lot of your dreams are the beginning of a spy novel or a thriller.   Maybe you should continue them.

----------


## The Cusp

> Im not sure exactly who he is, but he appears to be helping, so I wont shoot him for now.



Remind me not to get on your bad side.

----------


## oneironut

> A lot of your dreams are the beginning of a spy novel or a thriller. Maybe you should continue them.



Thanks. I never did become a world-famous novelist like I said I would when I was a kid, but I actually enjoy journaling more. None of the stories have endings, but I get a new one almost every day.





> Remind me not to get on your bad side.



Haha, not to worry, I'm only a cold-blooded mercenary in my dreams.


Late entry for yesterday's dream: I've played many roles in dreams before, but I think "futuristic hobo" is a new one...

*Riding the MagRails<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="11" month="7">*Wednesday, July 11, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              Im following the track through an empty metallic landscape. Instead of sky, I see only a giant dome with intricate designs etched on its surface. I wonder whats on the other side, if Im just in a large building on Earth or a craft hurtling through space. I go back to concentrating on the here and now as the track stretches across a deep gorge.

  When Im halfway across I feel the vibration of an approaching train and see it round the bend a couple hundred yards away. Theres no time to go back, but I notice a narrow walkway running parallel to the track. I step on to it and keep telling myself that it has to be wide enough to keep me from getting hit. The train speeds past with barely a whisper and mere inches to spare.

              I run the rest of the way across the gorge and find a multi-level station made of the same dull gray metal as everything else. The station is filled with all sorts of people going about their business. I notice two homeless men fighting over an old paper sack.  Theyre so occupied with pummeling each other that they dont notice when I sneak up and steal the sack for myself. I run for a time and finally stop at a picnic table to examine my prize. The sack contains several prescription bottles and a small handgun.

----------


## oneironut

*Relief Pitcher<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="16" month="7">*Monday, July 16, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              Im at bat and very nervous because our team is way behind. As he winds up, the pitcher gives me a quick wink (I think our team must have bribed him to help us) and tosses a very slow pitch. I bunt it towards him, figuring he wont make much effort to grab it. I hit too lightly and realize the catcher is close enough to retrieve the ball and throw me out. But apparently the turncoat pitcher has some other tricks up his sleeve; the first baseman suddenly cries out that he cant see and the ball flies past him.

              I round the base and decide to try for second. Somebody behind me gets hold of the ball and throws it, but the second baseman misses it and Im safe. As the next batter steps to the plate, I position myself so my foot is barely touching the bag and get ready to steal third. I notice the second baseman is trying to edge his foot between mine and the base and we get into an argument over it.
<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

All the usual school dream stress, combined with disgusting vermin. And milk!

*High School Horror<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="17" month="7">*Tuesday, July 17, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              Exactly how long has it been since I last attended Spanish class? A week? Two weeks? Months? Holy crap, how many tests and assignments have I missed? I sprint across the school grounds trying to find the classroom. A nearby janitor pushes a cart over in front of me and I have to jump over it to avoid getting tripped up. I see a man riding a recumbent bike up ahead. For some reason I want to shout a warning to him, but Im not sure what the danger is.

              I finally reach a classroom, only to find it empty other than the teacher and a few students. Coats and backpacks are stacked on all of the desks. The teacher tells me the rest of the class has gone down to the gym for a school spirit assembly. As we talk, I notice one of the ceiling tiles bulging down. It suddenly bursts open in a spray of foul-smelling slime. One of the studentsan old school friendcautiously peeks up into the hole. We all scream as a cloud of buzzing insects emerge and swarm us. More holes in the ceiling burst open as we flee.

              Back outside, the clouds of insects disperse and I calm down. As I follow the other students to the gym I notice Ive been holding a gallon jug of milk all this time. Its awkward to carry, so after some effort I manage to stuff it into my pack.<o></o>

----------


## Twoshadows

That's funny...

I get those school dreams too. But I see your creative mind had to add the foul-smelling slime and insect swarms as well to make it extra interesting....:p

----------


## Moonbeam

I've heard that only people who never failed a class have those kind of nightmares.

----------


## oneironut

> That's funny...
> 
> I get those school dreams too. But I see your creative mind had to add the foul-smelling slime and insect swarms as well to make it extra interesting....:p



What creative mind? My high school was actually like that, harhar.





> I've heard that only people who never failed a class have those kind of nightmares.



Ok, I confess...the worst grade I ever made was a C in 7th grade metal shop. But the ugly toolbox I built is still in one piece after 20+ years of use, so I must've done something right.


Are you not entertained? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED??!!!

*Gladiator<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="18" month="7">*Wednesday, July 18, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              My last fight—one way or the other, it _is_ my last fight—is being held in a deserted parking garage. The one man who started all of this, the one man we hate even though he’s made each of us very rich, is arranging the clubs and knives that will be tonight’s weapons on a folding card table. All smiles and friendliness, I walk up to him and pretend to be nostalgic for the old times. Still smiling, I then tell him that he’d better hope I die tonight, because otherwise I’m going to find him and kill him for what he’s turned us into.

              Taking my position between my fellow teammates on one side of the garage, I do my best to ignore our master’s grand introduction. His showmanship annoys me because there’s never been an audience to witness our performances, no roaring mob screaming for blood and victory. I suddenly notice movement to my left and glance over to see a heavyset security guard approaching. The relief I feel at the thought of all this ugliness finally coming to light is mixed with bitter amusement over the realization that I’ll probably end up in jail along with the bastards who enslaved me.

              I try to warn our master about the approaching guard, but he tells me not to interrupt and goes on with his speech. In my mind I can see rows of bandaged fighters struggling to rise from their cots and cry out for help.

----------


## oneironut

Last night's dreams were pretty bland, so here's another one from yesterday:


*Judge, Jury, and Juggernaut<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="18" month="7">*Wednesday, July 18, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
  Three of the boys have become fearsome bullies lately, terrorizing the rest of us to the point that life in this great big house we all share has become a misery. I have no choice but to intervene, although Im not happy about this because I know Ill become a bully myself in the process.

I confront all three of them at once in the bathroom and try to be reasonable, but the words become heated, push comes to shove, and one of the bullies suddenly lunges for my throat. The way his thumbs are digging in, I know theyre playing for keeps. I struggle and gasp a bitthen straighten up and laugh. He tightens his grip even more, but I just playfully slap his face and ask him when hes actually going to start trying. One of the other bullies panics and runs downstairs. Hes the ringleader and the one I want to make an example of, so I effortlessly disengage myself from the second bullys grip and race off in pursuit.

The first floor is deserted when I reach it, but a quick peek through the walls reveals the bully in the driveway. As I step out of the house, he jumps into a car and speeds away. I catch up with him on foot and stay close even as he accelerates. Somebodys bound to get run over if this doesnt end now, so I mentally nudge the car until the bully loses control and spins out.

I tear off the drivers door and look in to find not a cruel bully, but a terrified little boy clutching an injured leg. I feel guilty and ashamed of myself at the realization that Ive gone too far. I gently lift the bully out of the car and place my hand over his injury. He thrashes wildly in my arms, probably thinking I mean to hurt him even more, but I tell him to calm down and stop squirming. Underneath my hand, the injured leg slowly knits itself back together.

The police arrive by the time I finish: about a dozen officers dressed like your stereotypical country sheriff, complete with cowboy hats and beer bellies. Some of the other boys have run over from the house to see whats going on. I hand the bully over to them and tell them to go home. The officers form a circle around me and close in, but I just stand there calmly and wait for them to get close enough.

----------


## oneironut

*Does Batman Have This Problem?<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="20" month="7">*Friday, July 20, 2007*</st1:date>
<st1:date year="2007" day="20" month="7"></st1:date>
    The city’s in danger, so it’s time for your Friendly Neighborhood You-Know-Who to swing into action. Only trouble is, my costume isn’t what it’s supposed to be, but instead a pair of pajamas decorated with my likeness (I wonder when I’ll get my royalty checks?) Even worse, they’re dirty and sweat-stained from my last adventure. There isn’t time to find a replacement, so I squeeze into them as best I can.<o></o>

----------


## The Cusp

No, Batman was born a millionaire.

----------


## oneironut

Not at all what the title suggests...

*AK-47s at School*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="21" month="7">*Saturday, July 21, 2007*</st1:date>

The class seems to be one big mashup of every possible science topic. Instead of paying attention to the instructors lecture, I randomly flip through the textbook. The first chapters are all chemical equations, which I find boring, but later chapters cover astronomy and the origins of the universe.              With only a few minutes left in class, the instructor announces that he has treats for us, gesturing to a table on the far wall piled high with goodies. He places extra emphasis on something he calls AK-47s, made from an old family recipe. Ive never tried eating a machine gun before, I think to myself, so I rush over to the table. I ask the instructor where they are, and he indicates a platter of square cookie sandwiches with some mixture of chocolate and peanut butter in the middle. They look so good I grab a stack of them before returning to my desk.<o></o>

----------


## Moonbeam

RE:  AK-47's--I think you need more iron and/or fiber in your diet.

I didn't comment before, but I thought your "Gladiator" dream was really something.  I called my BF over to read it (he hates dream stuff) and even he was impressed.  He tried to claim that you didn't dream it, you were just writing a story.  Don't worry, I defended your integrity.  It was a good story too tho.

----------


## oneironut

> RE:  AK-47's--I think you need more iron and/or fiber in your diet.



Lol, I wonder which would be better for me: hollow-point or armor piercing?





> I didn't comment before, but I thought your "Gladiator" dream was really something.  I called my BF over to read it (he hates dream stuff) and even he was impressed.  He tried to claim that you didn't dream it, you were just writing a story.  Don't worry, I defended your integrity.  It was a good story too tho.



Thanks for the compliments and for coming to my defense. I admit I try to make the writing dramatic, but the dream events are as accurate as I can remember when I wake up. Believe me, if I wanted to be dishonest my screen name would appear in orange all the time: "Wow! Twelve lucid tasks in a row! I'm on a roll!" :p

----------


## Moonbeam

> Thanks for the compliments and for coming to my defense. I admit I try to make the writing dramatic, but the dream events are as accurate as I can remember when I wake up. Believe me, if I wanted to be dishonest my screen name would appear in orange all the time: "Wow! Twelve lucid tasks in a row! I'm on a roll!" :p



I think we all have to fill in the blanks in some of dreams.  Don't worry about what he thinks, he says he has never even remembered a dream.  We fellow dreamers are the only ones whose opinion matters.

----------


## oneironut

> he says he has never even remembered a dream.



That's kind of sad. Why don't you go to work on him, Moonbeam? Make him your apprentice, turn him to the dark side, whatever you want to call it.

----------


## Moonbeam

> That's kind of sad. Why don't you go to work on him, Moonbeam? Make him your apprentice, turn him to the dark side, whatever you want to call it.



He might make me play geeky games with him in retaliation.  It's not worth that living hell.  It is sad, but I think he's telling the truth.  Weird.  I saw a tiny flicker of interest when I told him lucid dreaming was just like having your own holodeck, but he quickly reverted to scoffing and mocking.  His loss.

----------


## oneironut

Last night I went to bed early, focused on my intent to recall dreams and/or become lucid, slept for many hours...and hardly remembered a thing. Arghh! Some fragments that found their way out of the murk:

1. I'm extremely angry at my father, but I don't know why.

2. I'm watching a martial arts demonstration on TV. A young Asian man standing beside me performs the various moves in synch with the program.

3. The actor William Hurt is being interviewed in my living room. I offer him a glass of milk, but he tells me the glass isn't big enough. I quickly go to the kitchen to get a larger glass.

Hopefully I'll get better results tonight.

----------


## oneironut

I don't identify her in the journal entry, but after waking up I realized the "group leader" mentioned below was Twoshadows. This weekend I considered trying for the lucid task, then changed my mind because the month is almost over. Evidently TS didn't get the memo and showed up anyway, but I didn't recognize her or become lucid. Sorry TS, I'll try to be a better host next time.


*Mall Slide*
  <st1:date month="7" day="23" year="2007">*Monday, July 23, 2007*</st1:date>

The leader of our group, a young woman with long blond hair, tells us that well be leaving soon. Theres still a lot I want to see, so I squat down and start sliding quickly across the floor as if it was an icy lake. Several stores pass by in a flash to my right. I notice Im approaching a pet shop that I want to look through, so at just the right moment I jump across the entrance threshold and land on my feet.

The center of the shop is dominated by a large plastic enclosure full of dogs. One of the individual cages has a SOLD sign on it. This dog is especially unique, with what looks like a bright orange pompadour and eyes colored to match. The left side of the enclosure is reserved for ugly misfit dogs that nobody wants. Most of them are curled up and motionless, as if they know theres no point in trying to attract a potential owner, but one of them hasnt learned that lesson yet. He starts barking and bouncing around joyfully as soon as he sees me. As rough-looking as he is, Im charmed by his enthusiasm and I tap on the plastic to see if hell come closer, but the confines of his individual cell keep him from approaching. I feel a sudden overwhelming sadness as I consider what will happen to these animals if nobody buys them.

I move away from the enclosure and browse other areas of the pet shop. There are some surprisingly exotic animals here; one set of cages contains what look like miniature giraffes. I realize Id better return to my group if I dont want to get left behind. On my way out, I notice the glass enclosure at the front of the store is slightly open.  Out of it crawls a multicolored lizard the size of a puppy. It scuttles towards me quickly and I have no idea if its poisonous, so I jump over it with a girlish little scream. The enclosure is still open and the lizards fellow captives are a pair of huge snakes, so I make a quick escape back into the mall.

The floor is no longer slick as ice, so I run under my own power back the way I came. I glance into each store as I pass it and spot various childhood friends and acquaintances. I finally catch up with my group at the bookstore. Our group leader is sitting in front of some shelves, rapidly flipping through childrens books. I notice she isnt even looking at the books. I stick my hand in a gap between books but she keeps on flipping without noticing. Finally she looks up at me and we both laugh as I point out what shed been doing.

----------


## oneironut

No dreams today thanks to a sleepless night, but for those hours I tinkered around with some technological aids that I'm looking forward to trying tonight.

I started with sampling some of the lucid mp3's posted around here. I found one with a speaker that I liked--female with a foreign accent, says the exact phrase I use when lucid ("This is a dream")--but the background sounds drove me nuts. I don't have a sound editor, but I do have Flash, so I cooked up a little Flash file that loops through the "This is a dream" statement every few minutes.

With the voice taken care of, I went in search of some background noise. I enjoy listening to natural sounds but no longer have any CDs, so after some searching I found Atmosphere Lite, a freebie version of a natural sound generating program. It's not an exact match for reality, but close enough for me.

I have my computer connected to my bedroom speakers, so before bed I'll start up both files and have some nice ocean sounds with a voice telling me "This is a dream" every couple of minutes. I don't know if the message will get through my thick skull when I'm dreaming, but at the very least it'll help me relax and focus on my intent while falling asleep.

I plan to do a LOT of sleeping tonight, so there'll be plenty of opportunities to experiment. I'll post the results here tomorrow.

----------


## oneironut

No lucids, but I had a great night's sleep with lots of dreams. The first of the night was definitely the best, and clearly inspired by the computer game _Thief - The Dark Project_. Even though I didn't know the details, I felt a real sense of history between myself and the DCs. I also like how my mind incorporated the game's less-than-state-of-the-art graphics into the dream environment. I sure hope I don't have a _System Shock_ dream waiting in the wings...


*Once a Thief*
    <st1:date year="2007" day="25" month="7">*Wednesday, July 25, 2007*</st1:date><o></o>

I may need help walking through the city, but Im still sharp enough to know when Im being followed. My companion and I stop beside an abandoned cathedral and look back down the darkened cobblestone street. Theres no doubt somebody is trailing us in the shadows. My companion suddenly vaults me up to the cathedrals second-floor terrace, and without any apparent signs of age I deftly scramble up the side of the rather blockish building. It feels wonderful to be back in the game again.

  From the cathedral spire I have a clear view of the city district in all directions. I settle into a comfortable position and wait. Soon after, a shadowy figure cautiously approaches the spot where I had been standing just moments before. I spring into motion as soon as hes where I want him, swinging and tumbling from cathedral top to street level in seconds. I creep up behind the stranger, my polygonal arm extended with knife at the ready. He doesnt realize Im there until he feels my blade touch his throat.

The stranger carefully turns to look at me, and I laugh as I recognize my old friend. Sheathing my knife, I call for my companion to come out of his hiding place and the three of us enjoy a casual conversation. My friend is so relieved he doesnt mind all that much when I lift his coin purse.

----------


## oneironut

Do they award a badge for completing the Non-Lucid Task of the Month? Arrgh!

*Discovering Delphin<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="26" month="7">*Thursday, July 26, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              Im on the DV forum viewing some pictures posted by one of the members. The setting looks very familiar, and I realize he must live or work close by. I leave my desk and take a ride down a very large and crowded elevator with mirrored walls. I recognize one of my fellow passengers as a woman who appeared in one of the pictures, so I know Im definitely on the right track.

Once we reach the ground floor, I step outside and find myself in a busy campus park. After some searching I find my quarry sitting on a bench, a man in his late teens / early twenties with curly brown hair. He looks up at me with a neutral expression that rapidly changes when I smile and greet him by his screen name: Hi, Delphin. For a moment I think hes going to run away in panic, but he relaxes when I reassure him that I wont give away his secret identity.

----------


## Twoshadows

> Do they award a badge for completing the Non-Lucid Task of the Month?



Oh so close...   

But you're that much closer to getting the Task done while lucid. I think that if you've done something in a non lucid then it'll be that much easier while lucid.

So did you check and see if Delphin was an actual member?

----------


## oneironut

> So did you check and see if Delphin was an actual member?



I just checked again to make sure (the first check was when I woke up last night and I was pretty groggy) and this time I see there's a *delfin4s* who hasn't been active in over a year. Pretty close...

----------


## Moonbeam

Another one!  Dreaming up members that we've never heard of.

----------


## oneironut

These consecutive fragments from last night seem oddly connected, so I've grouped them together into a single entry.


*Low-Rent Epic<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="27" month="7">*Friday, July 27, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
Scene 1
  <o></o>
  Im searching through a vast cavern for a young princess. I know that she in turn is searching for a sword that is our only hope against our oppressors. Im unable to find her, so I return home. I turn on my computer and bring up a satellite display. I see a circular icon with a little sword symbol beside it moving away from the planet.
  <o></o>
Scene 2
  <o></o>
  I have been chosen to join the search party. They have given me my first sword, which makes me feel strong and awkward at the same time. We assemble in front of the club house and walk across the street to the dirt lot where our trucks are parked. Im told by the leader that Ill be driving his truck, which makes me nervous because its larger than what Im used to. My anxiety only increases when I get behind the wheel and realize I can barely see past the hood. I start the engine and the truck slowly rolls backwards. The brakes dont work and soon I hear the crunch of metal.
  <o></o>
Scene 3
  <o></o>
              Im at a used car lot watching a little old lady buy a motor scooter that looks like it came from the 1960s. It looks ridiculous, but I dont laugh  because she seems genuinely happy puttering around the lot and I dont want to hurt her feelings. Walking off the lot, I see a group of men gunning someone down in a nearby alley. The victim turns out to be Steven Seagal. He drags himself towards the street, gasping and panting most dramatically. One of the gunmen, as a parting shot, drops a cake with white frosting in front of Seagal. I know its a bomb, and since I dont seem to have a body, I yell out, Steve! Get rid of the cake! With his last bit of strength, Seagal throws the cake away from him. It explodes and leaves a frosted crater in the street.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

*Cluck!<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="1" month="8">*Wednesday, August 01, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
  With all the excitement and trepidation of a new parent, I watch my egg hatch. For a moment Im afraid the chick hasnt survived, but then I see a little yellow ball move under the pieces of eggshell. I carefully pick up the chick, stare down at it in wonder, and think to myself: now what the hell am I supposed to do? 

My first thought is to keep it warm, but I know I cant sit on the little thing because even though Im a chicken, I still have a humans body. Instead I place the chick on my lap and carefully nestle it between my legs. The little bird seems to be pleased with this and chirps happily.<o></o>

----------


## The Cusp

I'll have to send you a card on mother's day.

Reminds me of that episode of the Kids in the hall that shows the birth of the Chicken Lady.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijIewO-3NNs

----------


## oneironut

> Reminds me of that episode of the Kids in the hall that shows the birth of the Chicken Lady.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijIewO-3NNs



Haha, great clip. "They say the experience left him scarred...scarred for LIFE!"


No internet connection yesterday or dream recall today, but here's another entry from yesterday that I didn't get to type before the failure:

*The Fountain<o></o>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="1" month="8">*Wednesday, August 01, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o></o>
              I reach out and all the water rises from the fountain until it forms a column twenty feet high. People are so amazed by the sight that they actually climb into the fountain so they can touch this swirling tower of water. When enough people have gathered, I suddenly drop my hand and the column collapses, soaking everybody. We all laugh, but I still feel a little guilty and decide to show them a neat trick to make up for the joke.

Reforming the column, I climb into the fountain myself and walk right into the water. Breathing normally, I spin in place until the water becomes a whirlpool. I lose control of it and get fired out of the top like a cannonball. I panic for a second, but I calm down when I see Im gliding like a feather.<o></o>

----------


## oneironut

*Track and Field<o></o>*
  <st1:date month="8" day="7" year="2007">*Tuesday, August 07, 2007*</st1:date>
<o></o>
              I know theyre still after me even though I cant see them. The laptop tucked under my arm makes it difficult to run, but it belongs to my pursuers and it might be the only way Ill get any answers. As I run down the corridor, I see a mental image of a glowing red dot flashing, flashing.

              I feel dangerously exposed in this wide corridor, so I enter a stairwell and start down. Im tempted to trigger the alarms on the emergency doors I pass by in order to create a diversion, but Im afraid it might backfire on me so I just keep running. At the bottom of the stairwell is a regular exit door that leads out of the building. Im sprinting down the street when I notice two men in business suits standing at the corner ahead. Theyre probably perfectly innocent, but I have a bad feeling about them. I duck behind a low wall to hide and rest.

              This seems as good a time as any to check the laptop, so I power it up. It boots to a title screen for a game called _Track and Field_, just like the old arcade game where you had to mash buttons like a maniac to make your character run. I advance to the player selection screen, but instead of computer-generated figures the player list consists of pictures of real people. Each one has been photographed in front of the same blank white wall, and each one looks exhausted and terrified. I select one at random and the computer screen displays an overhead map made of green vector lines. In the center of the map, a flashing red dot moves erratically through a maze.

              I exit back to the player selection screen and continue scrolling through the list. I know I should runmore than ever, I know I should drop this thing and run like hellbut I cant turn away until I know for sure, until I see my own face staring back at me with the expression of a hunted animal.<o></o>

----------


## The Cusp

> Track and Field
> 
> ...It boots to a title screen for a game called Track and Field, just like the old arcade game where you had to mash buttons like a maniac to make your character run.



I remember that game.  I used to use a spoon to assist in the button mashing.

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> *Gladiator<o></o>*
>   <st1:date year="2007" day="18" month="7">*Wednesday, July 18, 2007*</st1:date>
> <o></o>
>               My last fight—one way or the other, it _is_ my last fight—is being held in a deserted parking garage. The one man who started all of this, the one man we hate even though he’s made each of us very rich, is arranging the clubs and knives that will be tonight’s weapons on a folding card table. All smiles and friendliness, I walk up to him and pretend to be nostalgic for the old times. Still smiling, I then tell him that he’d better hope I die tonight, because otherwise I’m going to find him and kill him for what he’s turned us into.
> 
>               Taking my position between my fellow teammates on one side of the garage, I do my best to ignore our master’s grand introduction. His showmanship annoys me because there’s never been an audience to witness our performances, no roaring mob screaming for blood and victory. I suddenly notice movement to my left and glance over to see a heavyset security guard approaching. The relief I feel at the thought of all this ugliness finally coming to light is mixed with bitter amusement over the realization that I’ll probably end up in jail along with the bastards who enslaved me.
> 
>               I try to warn our master about the approaching guard, but he tells me not to interrupt and goes on with his speech. In my mind I can see rows of bandaged fighters struggling to rise from their cots and cry out for help.



_Nice one_. Very well written.  ::cooler:: 





> *Once a Thief…*
>     <st1:date year="2007" day="25" month="7">*Wednesday, July 25, 2007*</st1:date><o></o>
> 
> I may need help walking through the city, but I’m still sharp enough to know when I’m being followed. My companion and I stop beside an abandoned cathedral and look back down the darkened cobblestone street. There’s no doubt somebody is trailing us in the shadows. My companion suddenly vaults me up to the cathedral’s second-floor terrace, and without any apparent signs of age I deftly scramble up the side of the rather blockish building. It feels wonderful to be back in the game again.
> 
>  From the cathedral spire I have a clear view of the city district in all directions. I settle into a comfortable position and wait. Soon after, a shadowy figure cautiously approaches the spot where I had been standing just moments before. I spring into motion as soon as he’s where I want him, swinging and tumbling from cathedral top to street level in seconds. I creep up behind the stranger, my polygonal arm extended with knife at the ready. He doesn’t realize I’m there until he feels my blade touch his throat.
> 
> The stranger carefully turns to look at me, and I laugh as I recognize my old friend. Sheathing my knife, I call for my companion to come out of his hiding place and the three of us enjoy a casual conversation. My friend is so relieved he doesn’t mind all that much when I lift his coin purse.



That's cool as hell. I love the attack from above. Heh. ::ninja:: 

And "ROFL" @ _Track and Field_.

You ever played that shit on the Power Pad??

That's a workout, right there, boi.  ::chuckle::

----------


## oneironut

> I remember that game.  I used to use a spoon to assist in the button mashing.



Heh, I saw the other kids play with rulers, combs, and pencils, but never a spoon. I'm guessing you either played at a restaurant or carried a special spoon around with you. :p





> _Nice one_. Very well written. 
> 
> That's cool as hell. I love the attack from above. Heh.
> 
> And "ROFL" @ _Track and Field_.
> 
> You ever played that shit on the Power Pad??
> 
> That's a workout, right there, boi.



Thanks! Actually, I only spent a single quarter on _Track & Field_ when I was 12, and quickly realized that was not my game at all. I'd probably do better with the power pad than those buttons.


Not many recent updates, obviously. I haven't been very motivated to journal this past month because of my work schedule, but things get back to normal next week so hopefully things will pick up again. Maybe I'll even have a lucid dream because, like, you know, it's kinda the whole point of all this... :wink2:

----------


## oneironut

> Not many recent updates, obviously. I haven't been very motivated to journal this past month because of my work schedule, but things get back to normal next week so hopefully things will pick up again. Maybe I'll even have a lucid dream because, like, you know, it's kinda the whole point of all this...



Haha, it took a few more weeks than I thought for things to get back to normal.

*Darth Somebody<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="10" month="9">*Monday, September 10, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
              Im standing on a balcony looking down at Darth Vader as he goes about his evil business. I notice Im carrying a lightsaber in each hand and immediately fire them up. Both blades are blue, but as I swing them about experimentally the one in my right hand shifts from blue to red. Vader notices me and walks out of sight.

              A few seconds later I hear an elevator open behind me and there he is. He ignites his saber and we begin to spar. Were both surprised at how skillfully I fight, and he asks me who my master was. I tell him Ive never been trained, which surprises him even more. We finally stop fighting and Vader offers to take me as his apprentice. I hesitate for a moment, but accept.

              Vader takes my lightsabers as I kneel before him. He lowers the blades to my shoulders as if he is knighting me, but thankfully stops before lopping both my arms off. He gives the usual speech about what a powerful Sith Ill become, etc., etc. and tells me to rise. It looks like hes having a tough time thinking up a suitably evil new name for me, and when he calls me by it I can only understand the obvious first part.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## The Cusp

Welcome to the Dark Side!

----------


## oneironut

> Welcome to the Dark Side!



Since it is useless to resist, thanks for the welcome!


*Less Than Impressed<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="12" month="9">*Wednesday, September 12, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  Im walking through a religious revival meeting on my old college campus. A large group has gathered around one man standing with his arms spread like wings and his eyes closed. Hes also floating an inch or two off the ground. The group is going crazy over this: weeping, waving their arms frantically, the whole hallelujah routine. I tell them its not that big a deal, and to illustrate my point I suddenly fly up into the air and turn somersaults a hundred feet above them.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

*Meeting* <st1:place>*Neptune*</st1:place>*<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="24" month="9">*Monday, September 24, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I arrive at a rundown apartment to meet my friend Neptune. Several acquaintances dressed in shabby clothes are lounging about. They all have sickly gray skin and are clearly vampiresjust like me. Neptune, a short fellow with lank blond hair and skinny even for a vampire, finally arrives. He apologizes for being late and tells me a local gangster wanted to hire him to kill off all the homeless in the neighborhood. Our kind finds this sort of job offensive, so <st1:place>Neptune</st1:place> killed and drained the gangster instead. We enjoy a good laugh over that.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## Twoshadows

> I tell them its not that big a deal, and to illustrate my point I suddenly fly up into the air and turn somersaults a hundred feet above them.



Good, I'm glad I'm not the only show off here... ::D:  Why is it always so fun to do that?


*




Meeting <ST1Neptune</ST1



*

Cool...a vampire dream.


Good to see you around, oneironut.  :smiley: 


<!-- / message --><!-- sig -->

----------


## Moonbeam

> Good to see you around, oneironut. 
> <!-- / message --><!-- sig -->



I second that!

----------


## oneironut

> Good to see you around, oneironut. 
>  <!-- / message --><!-- sig -->







> I second that!



Thanks you two. Sometimes I need to drop out for a while, but I'll always come back.

I went to sleep late last night and my dreams are mostly a jumble, but I remember a fragment where I was the host of some game show involving an obstacle course. One contestant mistimed a jump and landed headfirst in a big pile of dirt. I rushed to dig him out before he suffocated and made it in time. Then we found some old wooden artifacts in the dirt. Then things stopped being so normal and got _really_ weird.  :tongue2:

----------


## oneironut

A short lucid this morning...


*Shorts (Lucid)<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="4" month="10">*Thursday, October 04, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  Im walking through a clothing store dressed only in my underwear. I have a garment tucked under my arm that I mean to return, but I decide itd probably be a good idea to put it on instead. Its a pair of shorts that I like to wear when walking or exercising. It doesnt cover me up much more, but its better than just underwear.

After walking about a bit, I look down and notice that my shorts have become a pair of pants made of the same material. I tell myself that Im dreaming and spin in place a few times. I cant think of anything to do other than watch the people around me. They are very lifelike and realistic, but still have slight quirks in their appearance or manner that clearly mark them as dream people.

I lose lucidity, but the dream continues. Im now standing in a room watching a woman talk on the phone. Shes speaking to my boss about a car accident I was in, and I realize shes making up a story to cover for my absence. I listen closely to the details so Ill get them right later and wonder where Ill find a car to drive to work since mine is supposed to be a total wreck.

Then Im back in the department store. I remember the shorts Im supposed to be wearing, become lucid again when I see theyre still pants, and resume my people watching for a minute or two before waking up.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

*This Side Up<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="8" month="10">*Monday, October 08, 2007*</st1:date>

Im about to go to bed when I remember to check my dog and make sure hes in for the night. Beside the door leading to the garage is an electronic panel that looks like controls for a security system. The display is full of text that I cant read clearly, so I push a few buttons and open the door.

As soon as the door swings open, gravity seems to shift and the far end of the garage suddenly becomes the ceiling. Boxes and tools and other bits of junk come sliding down a concrete wall that was the floor only seconds ago. In a panic I turn to the panel and start pushing buttons again. Apparently I hit the correct one, because the garage immediately rights itself.

At first Im afraid my dog has been hurt, but then I see him, a little brown dachshund curled up safe and sound in his basket, tail thumping furiously against the wicker.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

*Petty Officer<o:p></o:p>*
*Thursday, November 15, 2007*
    <o:p> </o:p>            
The captain has ordered me to arrest one of my fellow officers for trying to shoot a member of the crew with a musket. I find my quarry after a long search below deck. He is flustered and nervous, but insists that this has all been a misunderstanding. As some illogical proof of his innocence, he gives me a handful of musket shot. Even more illogically, Im convinced by this proof and go to talk it over with the captain.

As we discuss the case, I keep noticing a ragged member of the crew repeatedly passing close by, as if trying to listen in on our conversation. Looking closely, I realize its the accused officer disguised in a wig and long beard. He notices me noticing him and quickly scurries off. The captain is also convinced and considers the case closed. I go find the officernow without his disguiseand inform him that hes in the clear for now, but Im going to be watching him closely.

Returning to the deck, I notice most of the crew is gathered at the railing and walk over to investigate. Our entire ship is surrounded by giant whales. On a whim I bring my hands to my mouth and bellow out a poor imitation of whale song. One of the giant creatures lifts its head from the water and responds. I call out again, and as the whale replies it veers towards our ship and crashes into the hull. I sneak away in embarrassment as the crew panics.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> I call out again, and as the whale replies it veers towards our ship and crashes into the hull. I sneak away in embarrassment as the crew panics.<o:p></o:p>



Hahaha. I would say "oops!" would be an understatement, in that case.  ::chuckle::

----------


## Moonbeam

I guess "giant whales" are even bigger than regular whales!  ::lol:: 

Hi, O'nut!  Long time no see!  Hey I got the book that your avatar comes from; that was cool to see that in there and recognize it.

----------


## oneironut

> Hahaha. I would say "oops!" would be an understatement, in that case.



Heh, the sudden emotional change I went through was pretty funny. "Oh, how wonderful talking to whales, oh...shiiiiiiiiiiit!





> I guess "giant whales" are even bigger than regular whales!



Well, I didn't want anybody to think I was referring to those dwarf whales...





> Hi, O'nut!  Long time no see!  Hey I got the book that your avatar comes from; that was cool to see that in there and recognize it.



Cool, that's a great book. Not much of a practical guide, but the artwork is fantastic (I obviously like one painting in particular). For everybody else reading, the book is *The Lucid Dreamer: A Waking Guide for the Traveler Between Worlds*


*The Coaster Conspiracy<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="16" month="11">*Friday, November 16, 2007*</st1:date>
    <o:p> </o:p>
Im on an indoor roller coaster much like <st1:place><st1>Space</st1> </st1:place><st1:place><st1>Mountain</st1></st1:place>. As the train enters the first tunnel, two other passengers and I break free from our harnesses and hop off. We enter a side passage and after some wandering in the dark emerge into a large chamber that looks like a cross between an amphitheater and a sewer tunnel. We decide this is a suitable secret location to discuss our plans. What those plans are I have no idea.

As were talking, I notice three figures spying on us. They run for it and we give chase. My two companions are clumsily stumbling over or around the rows of seats, but I make it easier on myself by flying over them and swooping down on the eavesdroppers like a hawk.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

*License to Wound<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="19" month="11">*Monday, November 19, 2007*</st1:date>

On my way to the bridge I accidentally step through a laser tripwire and alarms howl throughout the ship. I rush to the deck and dive overboard. While swimming to shore a shockwave nearly throws me out of the water and pieces of smoking debris crash all around me. When I reach the docks I look back and see whats left of the ship completely engulfed in flames. I climb out of the water and blend in with the crowd.

I notice a man leaning against a car as if hes been drugged or badly beaten and walk over to investigate. It turns out to be James Bond (Daniel Craig version). Figuring were on the same side in this situation and in equal danger, I take him by the arm and lead him away from the docks.

The scene shifts, and now were sitting in a darkened nightclub, watching the show and trying to remain inconspicuous. A waiter approaches our table and starts babbling a bunch of nonsense. He doesnt look much like a waiter and I notice hes trying to reach under our table, so I quickly jump out of my seat and attack him. I pull his arm from under the table and twist hard until he drops what looks like a button-sized electronic device. The phony waiter runs for it when I release him to throw the device away from our table. Not knowing if its a bomb or not, I yell at the crowd to evacuate before Bond and I rush out the door after the waiter.

Ive drawn my gun by the time we catch up to the waiter in a dead end alley. He just laughs at us and says we cant do anything because he has rights, blah, blah, blah. I shoot him in the leg and he falls to the ground. He draws his own gun and I shoot him in the hand to encourage him to lose it.

The scene shifts again, and now Bond and I have the waiter strapped to a hospital gurney that were pushing through a hallway in what looks like a police precinct. The waiter just wont stop taunting us, so I push a hidden button and a section of nearby wall opens up. As the secret door closes behind us, the waiter seems to realize for the first time how much trouble hes in and finally shuts up.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## The Cusp

> Ive drawn my gun by the time we catch up to the waiter in a dead end alley. He just laughs at us and says we cant do anything because he has rights, blah, blah, blah. I shoot him in the leg and he falls to the ground. He draws his own gun and I shoot him in the hand to encourage him to lose it.



So much for his rights!





> I notice a man leaning against a car as if hes been drugged or badly beaten and walk over to investigate. It turns out to be James Bond (Daniel Craig version).<o:p></o:p>



That never would have happened to Sean Connery.

----------


## oneironut

> So much for his rights!



Miranda? Never met her.





> That never would have happened to Sean Connery.



Maybe, but even Connery would've had a tough time with the old chair and rope trick.


No recall from last night.

----------


## oneironut

*Ping-Pong in Hell<o:p></o:p>*
*Wednesday, November 21, 2007*

Im playing a very intense match of ping-pong using a full tennis court rather than a table. I never seem to have enough strength to get the ball over the net, and I soon lose the match. There are other players waiting on the sidelines for their turn, so I give up my spot and walk off the court. Right then I notice Im actually in the middle of a monster-infested dungeon. I sneak through seemingly endless dark corridors, peeking into the various chambers to see if theyre safe to pass through. All of the monsters I see are tinyitty-bitty skeletons and kitten-sized demonsbut theres an awful lot of them. One miniature horde spots me and gives chase. They start crawling over me and I try to fight them off, but a ping-pong racquet isnt much of a melee weapon.


*Little Engines that Couldnt<o:p></o:p>*
*Wednesday, November 21, 2007*

The model train is absolutely wonderful, intricately designed with dozens of unique cars. As I walk along its length admiring the craftsmanship, I hear the disembodied voices of a man and a woman speaking in unison about how they always wanted a fancy train set as children. Instead of the expected engine, the train ends with a set of plastic and metal toys that dont quite match the rest of it: two Battlestar Galactica fighters (old-school 70s version) and an Imperial Star Destroyer. The train tries to move on the tracks, but the three toys just arent up to the task. After a moment they detach from the rest of the train and take to the air. They each sound like a childs voice imitating spaceship noises as they fly off.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## Oneironaut Zero

> They start crawling over me and I try to fight them off, but a ping-pong racquet isnt much of a melee weapon.



Unless, of course, you're Jackie Chan.  :Boxing: 
Lol.

And that Bond dream was awesome.  :smiley:

----------


## oneironut

> Unless, of course, you're Jackie Chan. 
> Lol.



Haha, true. And if I was Riddick, I could've just used my tea cup.





> And that Bond dream was awesome.



Thanks, I enjoy my spy dreams. I get to be cool, strong, agile, and deadly...you know, just like in my real life, har har.

----------


## oneironut

*Dirty When Im Dead<o:p></o:p>*
*Thursday, November 22, 2007*
  <o:p> </o:p>
              The king is not a pleasant man, respected by his subjects but never loved. He scowls at us now from his elevated throne in the middle of the hall while we all feast and laugh. I sense that hes about to make a pronouncement and reluctantly leave my family at our table to be near him, as is my knightly duty.

              My prediction is proven true when the king begins to speak, perhaps to himself as much as to the crowd, bemoaning the sorry state of his court. He is interrupted in mid-sentence by a burst of raucous laughter and what sounds like the rattling of a pill bottle. I stand impassively but inside I feel great anger and shame knowing that what the king says is true.

              Ignoring the interruption, the king announces he has had a device constructed to help him determine which of his subjects are truly honorable. We all turn to see a giant scale at the other end of the hall, a metal platform suspended from the ceiling by silver chains, with a glass-covered gauge embedded in the stone wall. The king suddenly calls my name (something starting with A) and says I will be the first to mount the scale.

              Without hesitation I jump onto the platform. It sways wildly and I have to grab the chains to maintain my balance. As the needle on the gauge bounces back and forth, the king talks on about my many great deeds, how Ive remained pure and noble even in the chaos of war. Begging his pardon, I speak up and say that Im actually quite filthy while in the field, and will likely be even dirtier when Im dead. The hall echoes with cheers and good-natured laughter at this; even the king indulges in a rare chuckle. A burly knight with a long red beard raises his fist and chants, Dirty when hes dead! in a booming voice.

              The platform finally stops swaying and the needle settles into place. I dont understand the measurement, but the king is pleased with the result and the crowd cheers again. I jump to the ground and return to my familys table, glad to see some of the more loutish knights fidgeting nervously at the thought of being selected next. My mother and father each embrace me and tell me how proud they are. With a mischievous grin, my best friend and fellow knight hands me a wooden bowl filled with heavily buttered bread fresh from the kitchens.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## Moonbeam

Oneironut, I know everyone has weird dreams, but yours are really something else!

P.S. I gotta tell you this, I read that one out loud to my BF.  Very entertaining.

----------


## The Cusp

Being judged on the scale like that is such a classic image.

The red haired knight yelling out "Dirty when he's dead!" was hilarious.  The whole thing has fantastic strong imagery.  Strong archetypes or something.  Good job telling it.

----------


## oneironut

> Oneironut, I know everyone has weird dreams, but yours are really something else!
> 
> P.S. I gotta tell you this, I read that one out loud to my BF.  Very entertaining.



Thanks, I appreciate that...I think (waitaminute, is she saying I'm weird??!!  :tongue2: ) I think it's very cool that you used my journal for storytime; hopefully your BF isn't thinking, "I wish she'd stop reading me this crap."  :wink2: 






> Being judged on the scale like that is such a classic image.
> 
> The red haired knight yelling out "Dirty when he's dead!" was hilarious.  The whole thing has fantastic strong imagery.  Strong archetypes or something.  Good job telling it.



Thanks! You can credit George R.R. Martin for that dream. I was deep into Vol. 2 of A Song of Ice and Fire series when I had it.


Arggh, I'm really embarrassed that I haven't kept up with my journal and missed nice comments left in Nov. And I'm a week late for my 1st DV anniversary. My recall hasn't been so great lately, but I bounced back this morning with a short lucid.


*Green Machine (Lucid)<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date month="12" day="11" year="2007">*Tuesday, December 11, 2007*</st1:date>

I’ve been enjoying a fancy lunch while visiting some old family friends, but I’m very tired and the house is getting too crowded, so I start saying my goodbyes. I then ask out loud what I’m forgetting, and somebody walks towards me smiling with my keys dangling from their hand. I’m confused by this because I can feel a set of keys in my pocket, but I take these new ones anyway.              

Turns out it doesn’t matter if I have my keys or not, because instead of driving home I start pedaling away on this. I’m not used to steering with two levers and wonder if I’ll wipe out, but I get the hang of it quickly and speed around obstacles without trouble. After a while I notice I’m riding down a dingy corridor in some old factory. I come to a stop in what looks like a tool supply room and finally get it through my head that this is a dream.

The dream imagery is very sharp and clear, but I don’t have the presence of mind to do much more than look around and tell myself that I’m dreaming. I start examining bins full of strange saw blades and drill bits, and pick up what looks like either a really large eyedropper or a really small turkey baster. I then notice some people working at a nearby counter. I repeatedly ask them if I’m dreaming, and they say yes each time.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## Moonbeam

> Thanks, I appreciate that...I think (waitaminute, is she saying I'm weird??!! ) I think it's very cool that you used my journal for storytime; hopefully your BF isn't thinking, "I wish she'd stop reading me this crap." 
> 
> Thanks! You can credit George R.R. Martin for that dream. I was deep into Vol. 2 of A Song of Ice and Fire series when I had it.



No wonder we liked that one!  "Railroad" better get to writing--I'm going to be pissed if he has a heart attack or something before he gets done with the series, and he doesn't look like he's in very good shape.





> Arggh, I'm really embarrassed that I haven't kept up with my journal and missed nice comments left in Nov. And I'm a week late for my 1st DV anniversary. My recall hasn't been so great lately, but I bounced back this morning with a short lucid.



Oh, don't worry about it--we are always glad to see you back again, no matter how long you've been gone!  Happy Anniversary!  Hope your recall is back!





> I repeatedly ask them if Im dreaming, and they say yes each time.<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p>



Your poor DC's:  "Yes, dammit--we told you already!  Now go and fly or something and quit bothering us!"  ::D:

----------


## oneironut

*Decoy<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="12" month="12">*Wednesday, December 12, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  The woman is clearly scared for her life. Were sitting together in a richly decorated office with a full-length window looking out on the buildings courtyard. She doesnt say anything to me, but I know that tensions between her and the man have escalated to the point of violence, so Im staying close to protect her.

After a few moments the man finally arrives, clean-cut and sharply dressed in a dark business suit. The conversation between the two of them is civil enough at first, but immediately heats up to the point that theyre screaming at each other. I step between them and politely but firmly tell the man we need to go outside to calm down. He glares at me, but follows me out to the courtyard without resisting.

As soon as were outside, the man spins around, grabs my arm, and starts to drag me away from the building. I try to pull free, but his grip is unbreakable. He reaches into his suit pocket and I expect to see a gun or a knife, but what he pulls out and dangles in front of me is even worse. Its a glass test tube with a cork stopper and a label with print too small to read. Its the type of simple container that can hold something horrible, and its now empty.

I realize whats just happened and turn my head to scream a warning to the woman, but I have no voice. As the man continues to drag me away,   I frantically wave my free hand, hoping shell see me through the window and get out of there before its too late.<o:p></o:p>
  <o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

> Your poor DC's:  "Yes, dammit--we told you already!  Now go and fly or something and quit bothering us!"



Heh, if you felt sorry for my DC's there, get a load of this... 

*Drum Solo (Lucid)<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="13" month="12">*Thursday, December 13, 2007*</st1:date>*<o:p></o:p>*
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I’m holding up the drive-thru line and the motorists behind me are getting pissed. The problem is I didn’t pull up close enough to the window and now I have to practically hang out of my car to reach my food. I finally get everything together and pull out onto the street. I make the first left turn and notice how all the buildings at this intersection are skyscrapers covered in neon.

The scene shifts and now I’m walking through a dark shopping mall. The power is out except for a few emergency lamps and the employees are just lounging about the entrances to their stores with nothing better to do. I decide to leave and realize my car is parked at the opposite end of this huge mall. I don’t want to walk all that way, so I think of trying to teleport there.

In spite of all these weird happenings, what triggers my lucidity is the sight of a perfectly ordinary looking woman. She’s of medium height, has short black hair flecked with grey, and is dressed in a simple white blouse and blue jeans. Nothing strange about her at all, but as soon as I look at her I think “I’m dreaming,” and so I am.

I look down at my hands and spin in place a few times while telling myself this is a dream. My hands look normal, although the lines in my palm are a lot deeper than they should be. The dream imagery is very sharp and I feel surprisingly clear-headed. I keep repeating “This is a dream” to myself as I climb aboard an escalator with some other shoppers. 

I want to talk to one of these dream characters, so I politely tap the shoulder of a man with long orange hair standing on the step above mine. He doesn’t turn around or acknowledge me. I tap him again more forcefully, but still no response. I decide to goof off a bit and start drumming on his shoulders with both hands, pounding away like Ricky Ricardo at the Club Babalu. I don’t get so much as an eye blink from this guy. I know when I’m beaten, so I stop and peacefully ride the escalator a few seconds more before waking up.

----------


## Moonbeam

> I decide to goof off a bit and start drumming on his shoulders with both hands, pounding away like Ricky Ricardo at the Club Babalu. I don’t get so much as an eye blink from this guy. I know when I’m beaten, so I stop and peacefully ride the escalator a few seconds more before waking up.



I am literally LOL.  That is a new form of DC-abuse!   :boogie: 

P.S.  It's weird to see Ricky Ricardo like that, I mean he seems so different than in Lucy re-runs when I was a kid and Lucy was always trying to get be in his show.  It's weird when you get older than people who lived a long time ago, and you see them doing something like that and they're young at the time.  I t felt like time to do an RC myself when his hands started blurring at the end!

----------


## oneironut

> I am literally LOL.  That is a new form of DC-abuse!  
> 
> P.S.  It's weird to see Ricky Ricardo like that, I mean he seems so different than in Lucy re-runs when I was a kid and Lucy was always trying to get be in his show.  It's weird when you get older than people who lived a long time ago, and you see them doing something like that and they're young at the time.  I t felt like time to do an RC myself when his hands started blurring at the end!



Haha, I never thought I'd be a pioneer in DC abuse, but I'll take what accomplishments I can get.

The movie clip caught me by surprise, too. My memories of the show were always of the comedy and Ricky occasionally singing a song at the club, but  I never saw anything like that. I especially liked the moment when he was getting so into it that he decided to lose the tie. His hands must've been throbbing like crazy at the end.


I went to bed too late and got up too early, which means I don't remember squat from last night. Until tomorrow, then...

----------


## oneironut

*Paper Smileys<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="16" month="12">*Sunday, December 16, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I can hardly concentrate on what Im doing because of all the yelling. The teenage boy and girl resemble family, but they arent. Theyve been bickering for a while, and now their mother has arrived to start yelling at the both of them. The noise is driving me nuts, but a place to stay is a place to stay, after all.

Thankfully Ive finished writing the bulk of the document and only need to apply some finishing touches. I start adding smileys to the end of each paragraph, only these are made of real materials rather than electronic images. One of them is even alive, a wiggling insect that looks like a lime green caterpillar.

The three-way fight distracts me again for a second, and when I look back down I realize Ive folded the document in such a way that the insect smiley has been crushed, leaving a green smear across the page. I angrily crumple it into a ball and reach for a fresh sheet.<o:p></o:p>

----------


## oneironut

*A Turn for the Worse<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="17" month="12">*Monday, December 17, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I go out to my car between classes and find a woman stretched across my hood talking to a man in a leather jacket standing nearby. I go ballistic and scream at her to get off my car. She complies, but she and the man are staring at me and smiling in a really creepy way, and I wonder if my short temper has put me into a dangerous situation.

It wouldnt be safe to leave my car with these two nearby, so I drive off to park at the lot on the far side of the campus. The university is very large, so I get on the highway to speed things up. I start to pull off at what I think is the correct exit, but Im actually about to transfer to a road that will take me to a different city entirely.

Im already more than halfway up the onramp, but the slope between the exit and the highway looks safe enough, so I suddenly veer off the road and go bumping down the hill until I can merge back onto the highway. I spot a police car in my rearview mirror and expect to get pulled over for my little stunt, but instead the car pulls off the highwayusing my wrong exit, ironically enough.<o:p></o:p>

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## oneironut

*Cartoon Cupid<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="18" month="12">*Tuesday, December 18, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I take a friend to a coffee shop to meet a waitress he has a crush on. While hes standing near the entrance looking for her, she walks in and comes to an abrupt stop behind him. Shes not a supermodel: shes carrying a few extra pounds and the start of crows feet around the eyes, but those eyes are sparkling like a princess in a fairy tale when she sees my friend, and I feel really good about helping to bring them together.

Where is she? my friend asks.

I mischievously drag it out for a few seconds (Im playing cupid, not a saint) before answering casually, Oh look, shes standing right behind you.

He spins around with a big smile, and Im a little disappointed to see that smile falter just a bit when he gets a good look at her. She reacts in much the same way, but now that theyve both gotten their dose of reality I expect things will work out fine for them. The waitress shrugs and says she knows she isnt perfect, and that she works at a strange place, but he shouldnt hold that against her.

Im curious about that last part, so I leave them and take a look around. What I thought was a coffee shop is actually a stereotypical Old West saloon. A saloon filled with cartoon dogs dressed like cowboys. Dogs are packed elbow to elbow at the bar, hanging from the chandeliers, and even crawling up the walls. Two dogs wearing ten gallon hats are in a gunfight, each of them sitting on another dogs shoulders and firing swollen cartoon pistols. Instead of bloody wounds the bullets leave big, perfectly clean holes that dont appear to hurt the dogs as they keep blasting away at each other.<o:p></o:p>

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## Twoshadows

> What I thought was a coffee shop is actually a stereotypical Old West saloon. A saloon filled with cartoon dogs dressed like cowboys. Dogs are packed elbow to elbow at the bar, hanging from the chandeliers, and even crawling up the walls. Two dogs wearing ten gallon hats are in a gunfight, each of them sitting on another dog’s shoulders and firing swollen cartoon pistols. Instead of bloody wounds the bullets leave big, perfectly clean holes that don’t appear to hurt the dogs as they keep blasting away at each other.<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p><!-- / message --><!-- sig -->



That is a wonderful and unexpected scene. That's really funny...


*Edit:*





> I realize I’ve folded the document in such a way that the insect smiley has been crushed, leaving a green smear across the page. I angrily crumple it into a ball and reach for a fresh sheet.



And I love those little insect smilies too. Very different.

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## Vex Kitten

Wow, the end of that dream with the dogs everywhere... I did not expect. 
Cute dream.

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## oneironut

> That is a wonderful and unexpected scene. That's really funny...







> Wow, the end of that dream with the dogs everywhere... I did not expect. 
> Cute dream.



Thanks, guys. It caught me off guard, too. I wish I had the presence of mind to stick with the couple and see if things worked out, but who can resist cartoon cowboy dogs? 


I was too tired and lazy to write a full journal entry today, but here's a quick summary of last night's dream. I was out shopping for a house in some generic suburban neighborhood. One house stood out from the others in that it was painted metallic blue and shaped like a miniature pagoda. The listing for the house indicated it was haunted, and that actually made me even more eager to buy it.

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## Twoshadows

> but who can resist cartoon cowboy dogs?



 ::chuckle:: 





> The listing for the house indicated it was haunted, and that actually made me even more eager to buy it.



Too bad this dream didn't go on. It would have been cool to see what was inside...

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## oneironut

> Too bad this dream didn't go on. It would have been cool to see what was inside...



It did go on, but it didn't involve that house and wasn't as interesting, so I didn't bother. But since I can't recall anything from last night, I guess I will bother:

I went to look at another house just down the street from the pagoda. It turned out to be nothing but a dirt field. In the middle stood a signpost with a hand-drawn picture of a tiny house on it. The owners were asking $200,000+ for it.

I got into my car to drive away, but couldn't make my left turn out of the community because of all the traffic coming from both directions. As soon as it started to clear, a bus pulled up to the curb to my left and unloaded dozens of passengers who started strolling casually across the street in front of my car. When they were finally out of the way, another surge of oncoming traffic kept me from making my turn yet again.

I sat there behind the wheel, imagined dealing with this every time I wanted to go out, and decided to find a house in another neighborhood.

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## Vex Kitten

200,000 for a hand drawn house on a stick?
Interesting. 
Good thing you got out of that neighborhood. Sounds kind of strange...

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## oneironut

> 200,000 for a hand drawn house on a stick?
> Interesting. 
> Good thing you got out of that neighborhood. Sounds kind of strange...



Lol @ "house on a stick"...that reminded me of the Hot Dog on a Stick chain. Important tip: If your real estate agent is dressed like this, go elsewhere.  ::lol:: 


Went to bed early, slept for many hours, and all I have to show for it is another one of my school dreams/nightmares. I'm not even going to dignify it with a journal entry; if you've read one, you've read them all.

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## Moonbeam

I like to ask the turkey-leg vendors at the Renaissance Festival for a "Rat on a Stick".  Like in Jabberwocky, I think it was.

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## oneironut

> I like to ask the turkey-leg vendors at the Renaissance Festival for a "Rat on a Stick".  Like in Jabberwocky, I think it was.



I shudder at the thought of what employee uniforms for Rat on a Stick would look like... :tongue2: 


In regards to the license plate from today's entry:  :Bang head: 

*Insert Coin<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="23" month="12">*Sunday, December 23, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  The dollar bill disappears into the slot and four yellow coins drop into the metal tray. I scoop up the tokens and shake them like dice as I scan the dark and noisy arcade. My childhood friend E is somewhere in here, but I can’t spot him around any of the beeping and flashing video games. Behind me, a heavyset man with a key ring unlocks the token machine and swings it open. I watch him work on the machine’s innards and enjoy the gamer’s fantasy of vast quantities of tokens exposed to the world and up for grabs.

Still unable to find E, I decide to play for a bit. I come across a classic _Defender_ machine, the only old-school game I’ve been able to find in this place. The controls are still just as complicated (too many buttons!) as they were when I was a kid, and I get wiped out in seconds. As my last ship explodes into digital debris, I notice a little boy has been standing here quietly watching my defeat and waiting for his turn. I wish him luck and step aside.

Suddenly E is running towards me in a panic, yelling that we have to get out of here right now. He has a large burlap sack tucked under his arm, and it’s jingling as he runs. I glance over his shoulder and see just what I expect to see: the token machine still wide open, and the heavyset man nowhere in sight.

“You didn’t…” I start to say.

“Just RUN!” he yells back, and I do.

We exit the arcade in a full sprint. A mall security guard immediately yells out and gives chase, but he’s only going after E and doesn’t seem to notice me. A uniformed police officer joins the pursuit and completely ignores me, too. I’m actually just trotting along behind the three of them, staying close to help E but trying not to draw attention to myself. They burst through a mall exit and I’m right behind them, but as soon as I pass through the sliding doors they’ve all vanished. It’s extremely late at night and I can hardly see anything. E comes out of the shadows, apparently free of the officers, and tells me to come along.

We start running across an empty parking lot, brightly lit but also mostly covered by the shadow of a giant tree that I can’t see anywhere nearby. E and I seem to understand that we have to stay in the tree’s shadow to be safe; expose ourselves to the light for just a second and we’ll be caught immediately. There are some close calls, but we reach E’s car safely.

As I slide into the passenger seat, I ask him why he’d do something so stupid. He replies that he has debts to pay off, and I wonder who would actually accept game tokens as payment. There’s only an inch between E’s car and the one parked in front of it, but he’s able to pull away from the curb without giving the other car more than a slight bump. I catch a glimpse of its license plate—ONEIRO—before we speed off. <o:p></o:p>

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## Moonbeam

> In regards to the license plate from today's entry: 
> I catch a glimpse of its license plateONEIRObefore we speed off. <?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p>



 ::lol:: 

That's pretty cool.  Your mind was taunting you.

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## oneironut

> That's pretty cool.  Your mind was taunting you.



Yeah, subtlety is lost on me. Perhaps if the plate had read, "THIS IS A DREAM, DUMBASS" I might have figured it out.


*Off the Rails<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="24" month="12">*Monday, December 24, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  Its very late and Im tired, so its a good thing I found this bed in the middle of the forest clearing. Well, not a bed exactlymore like a thick comforter folded in half and a couple of pillows. I unfold the comforter, sweep out the dirt and fallen leaves, and settle in for the night.

Theres a color television just past my makeshift bed and I prop my head up to watch. The show is a crime drama in which Joe Pesci has been recruited by the government to infiltrate the mob. In this episode Pesci is setting up a cocaine deal with a bunch of businessmen. Instead of discreetly wrapped bundles, there are mounds of cocaine piled high on the conference table. Pesci keeps stirring the drugs with a small device that looks like a mini hard drive. This must be some part of the sting operation, but the businessmen dont seem to notice as theyre too busy trying to inhale all the drugs right there on the spot. One of them notices some cocaine on Pescis sleeve and starts sniffing at it like a bloodhound.

I feel myself gradually falling asleep until I suddenly remember that my train will be arriving soon, and I sit up quickly to see my friend B sitting at the other end of our compartment. The terrain outside the window is familiar but severely flooded and I start worrying about my home. Remembering that my place sits off the ground and is probably safe, I sit back and enjoy the rest of the bus ride into town.

When we arrive at the terminal, the driver hands out a stack of pages and tells us these are the billing statements for the trip. Were each supposed to find our own statement and go pay the cashier at the other end of the terminal. B is ahead of me at the checkout line, and I hear him ask about a charge of $1.55 thats going to some judge. The cashier says thats a new tax resulting from a law the judge helped pass. That must be a nice gig, I mutter bitterly.<o:p></o:p>

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## oneironut

In the spirit of the holiday season, here's a two-part zombie apocalypse dream I had early this morning...


*Drive of the Dead, Part 1<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="28" month="12">*Friday, December 28, 2007*</st1:date>*<o:p></o:p>*
*<o:p> </o:p>*
  Its obvious to all of us that something has gone very wrong in the city tonight. Ours is the only car driving through what should otherwise be a crowded street. The only movement comes from indistinct figures running or stumbling through the shadows. I tell the driver to not slow down and warn the others in the backseat to lock their doors.

When I turn to look in the backseat and make sure the guys are doing what I told them, I see a horrible face peering in at us through the back window. Its nothing but a skull covered in blood and scraps of meat, but with very human eyes still in the sockets. I scream at the driver to get us out of here and face forward to see a similar zombie right in front of the car. The driver panics and floors it rather than swerving, and the zombie literally explodes as we hit it, splashing gore all over the hood and windshield. The car slides out of control and crashes into a nearby building. So we managed to kill one zombie at least, but now were stuck traveling on foot with many more of them still out there.


I woke up from this dream extremely relieved, then quickly fell asleep and discovered I wasn't off the hook just yet...


*Drive of the Dead, Part 2<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2007" day="28" month="12">*Friday, December 28, 2007*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  Im lying flat on my back and two zombies are enthusiastically eating me. The zombie tearing into my shoulder is your stereotypical rotting ghoul, but the one thats treating my left hand like it was a chicken drumstick looks like a slightly green and moldy version of the actor who played The Equalizer on TV.

I dont feel any pain as Im consumed, but I notice a strange sensation that I assume is my body dying and being reanimated as a zombie. When I realize that I still have all the same thoughts and feelings that Ive always had, I decide that maybe being a zombie isnt so bad, after all.

The ghoul at my shoulder seems to notice the change and moves away, but the Equalizer isnt giving up his meal for anything, so I have to slap him away with my free hand.<o:p></o:p>

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## Moonbeam

> In the spirit of the holiday season, here's a two-part zombie apocalypse dream I had early this morning...



 ::lol::  What a lovely holiday dream!

Happy New Year, Onut!  If I don't see you again before hand.

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## oneironut

> What a lovely holiday dream!
> 
> Happy New Year, Onut!  If I don't see you again before hand.



Thanks MB! Happy New Year to you and everybody else here at DV.

Since I've completed my first full year of this journal (and also because I can't recall any dreams from last night) I though it'd be fun to post the year's stats and link to my favorite journal entries:

Lucid Dreams: 7
Non-Lucid: 96

Favorite Non-Lucids

Jan: Cat Burglary
Feb: Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Army
Mar: Chew Toy
Apr: Paris and the Patty Melt Puppet
May: The Jade Golem and The Ghost Ship (tie)
Jun: First Day of Magic School
Jul: Once a Thief...
Aug: The Fountain
Sep: Meeting Neptune
Oct: This Side Up (only entry for the month, so winner by default)
Nov: Dirty When I'm Dead
Dec: Cartoon Cupid

Onward to 2008...

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## Moonbeam

Those must be my favorites too because I remember most of them by the titles!  I'd have to say "Dirty when I'm Dead" was one of my favorites for sure.  I missed "Cat Burglary somehow, so it's a good thing you the statistics.

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## Oneironaut Zero

Haha. I love that "Drive of the Dead" dream(s). Haha. I don't think I've ever experienced being turned into a zombie. That would be wild. Heh. I could just picture you, as a zombie, slapping away the other zombie that was still feeding on you.  ::lmao:: 

Nice wrap up, too. I should really do one of those, whenever I get my lazy ass around to it.  :tongue2:

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## oneironut

> Those must be my favorites too because I remember most of them by the titles!  I'd have to say "Dirty when I'm Dead" was one of my favorites for sure.  I missed "Cat Burglary somehow, so it's a good thing you the statistics.



Thanks! Compiling the list was a lot of fun because I had to go back and read them all, but because I never re-read after posting a lot of the older entries felt very new. I kept going, "WTF? Did I really write that?"  :wink2: 





> Haha. I love that "Drive of the Dead" dream(s). Haha. I don't think I've ever experienced being turned into a zombie. That would be wild. Heh. I could just picture you, as a zombie, slapping away the other zombie that was still feeding on you. 
> 
> Nice wrap up, too. I should really do one of those, whenever I get my lazy ass around to it.



Haha, the kookiest part for me was how I didn't seem to mind as long as I still retained my thoughts and personality. Never mind the rotting corpse, brain eating stuff...I just gotta be me.  :tongue2: 


Today's entry is dedicated to Keyser Söze...

*Were Rolling<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2008" day="3" month="1">*Thursday, January 03, 2008*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  The three of us are chilling out before we leave to do the job. Everybodys relaxed except for the girl; she keeps fussing about the apartment and I just know shes going to be the weak link in the chain. Jules is sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfastnot hamburgers, but a big bowl of kids cereal (perhaps Fruit Brute). Im sittingof course Im sittingacross from him eating apple slices. On a whim I dunk a slice in his cereal bowl, and the mix of fruit juice and sweetened milk is very pleasant.

Its time to go now, so we zip up our black leather jackets and head for the door. I pull up too close for Jules to open the door, so with a muttered apology I wheel myself back a couple feet. Theres no elevator on this floor, but I roll right down the stairway without a problem.

The apartment building is next to a rundown old laundromat, still closed at this early hour. As a warm-up of sorts, Jules busts the lock with a screwdriver and his girl goes in. I can hear the sound of breaking machinery and falling coins coming from inside. Jules goes to work with his screwdriver again and breaks open a newspaper box. He pulls out three bundles with newspapers folded around them.

Whats the news been like lately? I ask.

Violent, Jules replies as he unwraps the pistols and stuffs them in his duffel bag.                       

Id hate to read the comic pages on those motherfuckers, I say, laughing.

The girl has come out of the laundromat by now, so we head around back to where our car is parked. The alley is sloped in my favor, so I pull ahead of the others. As soon as I reach the car I notice the two bums slumped against a nearby wall. Theyre both too clean and well-dressed to be homeless, and theyre staring at us intently over the rims of their designer sunglasses.

Weve been marked, I call back to the others, still calm. 

The girl proves me right by running away and screaming up a storm. Jules keeps walking to the car, cool as Jules can be, and yells at her to get her dumb ass back here. I tell him that maybe we should just go too, and I start to wheel back the way I came. The bums are on their feet now and moving to intercept, both of them with a dog on a leash. I hear them nab Jules behind me, but nobody warns me to stop so I keep rolling along as if I didnt have a care in the world.

Theres a uniformed officer at the end of the alley, but hes too busy harassing a local resident to notice me and I start down the sidewalk without attracting attention. As I turn down another alley lined with tall hedges I hear exactly what Ive been waiting for: one of the police yelling for the others to find a third suspect in a wheelchair.

I give the wheels some good strong turns to keep me moving while freeing up my hands. I unzip my leather jacket and pull off my gloves and cap, tossing them over my shoulder. When the wheelchair comes to a stop I leap to my feet, drape the jacket over the seat, and duck into the hedges. I emerge onto a residential back yard and jog across the grass towards the opposite fence.

I dont know if Ill make it or not, and it almost doesnt matter because Im enjoying the game too much to care either way. All I have to do is get far enough away from the immediate area to hide in plain sight. No prior record, no fingerprints on file, and definitely no longer fitting the description.
 
_Im_ rolling.

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## oneironut

*Check Out Time<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2008" day="9" month="1">*Wednesday, January 09, 2008*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  Im spending my vacation at a cozy little bed and breakfast. Its annoying to have to share a room, and my roommate keeps jolting me awake by talking out loud, but shes quite attractive and the bed is very soft, so I endure as best I can.

Our room must be right over the kitchen, because the early morning stillness is suddenly broken by the clatter of what sounds like dozens of pots and pans. Our host comes into the room to apologize for the noise. She also informs us that shes been ordered to close the inn, and will need to accelerate time to get us all to the closing date as soon as possible. Still tucked under the covers, I ask if she can just let time advance normally, because in spite of the annoyances Im enjoying my vacation and dont want it cut short.



*From the Jaws of Defeat<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2008" day="9" month="1">*Wednesday, January 09, 2008*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  My computer terminal is just one of many here at the library. After clicking through various options, the screen displays what looks like a beefed-up version of _Asteroids_. I immediately recognize the black and white vector graphics of my triangular ship and the spinning rocks, but there are many other strangely shaped obstacles littering the screen. Theres also another ship just like mine, and it immediately starts to kick my ass.

I fumble at the keyboard as my ship takes hit after hit, spinning wildly and bouncing off the asteroids and other obstacles. A klaxon goes off to warn of the impending destruction of my ship, and just beneath the noise I hear laughter. The computers here are networked, and it turns out the person sitting next to me is the pilot of the enemy ship. I press random keys in a desperate effort to stay alive, and my ship suddenly goes on the offensive, spinning like a pinwheel and firing in all directions until everything else on the screen is obliterated. I try to be a good sport, but I cant help but gloat over my victory.

----------


## oneironut

My crime spree continues. I confess I get a kick out of these dreams, especially since nobody gets hurt and I never get caught.


*Lifting Spirits (and Other Valuables)<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2008" day="10" month="1">*Thursday, January 10, 2008*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  I enter the shopping center with a dark overcoat draped over my shoulders. I realize that must look silly for this middle class suburban neighborhood, but it keeps my arms free and hidden; that will come in handy in the next few minutes. I leisurely stroll about watching for opportunities and one rushes towards me almost immediately. The man is so intent on his own business that its easy to position myself so we collide. My hand darts in and out of his coat like a striking snake, and I offer loud and profuse apologies before hastening on my way. I wait to hear shouts behind me, but when none come I relax and examine my prize.

The wallet is of good quality, but doesnt contain much cash. Maybe only fifty or sixty dollars, but every bit helps. There is an important looking document tucked away in one sleeve; perhaps that will lead to further profit down the road. I fold up the cash and tuck it into my pocket, then work it through the small hole in the fabric and into the hidden pouch I have sewn inside my trouser leg. None of this is visible thanks to my coat.

The shopping center comes to a dead end and I stop for a moment. A girl in her early twenties dressed in what looks like a company shirt is giving a demonstration of stage magic equipment before a small and unimpressed crowd. Shes not without skill, but shes nervous and the heckling of two teenage boys is only making things worse. I suddenly yell out a few choice remarks that seem to magically release the tension. Everybody relaxes and laughs good-naturedly, even the besieged magician and her hecklers. Shes doing much better now, I see. As a fellow practitioner of sleight of hand, I silently wish her well and go on searching for my next performance.<o:p></o:p>
  <o:p></o:p>

----------


## Moonbeam

> My crime spree continues. I confess I get a kick out of these dreams, especially since nobody gets hurt and I never get caught.



I hope the dream-police don't catch up with you!   ::lol:: 

I don't think I've ever had an interesting on-going theme like that.  On-going themes, yes; interesting, no.

----------


## oneironut

> I hope the dream-police don't catch up with you!



Police...police are nothing to evil masterminds like me, mwahahahahaaha *cough* *cough*


*TILT!<o:p></o:p>*
  <st1:date year="2008" day="11" month="1">*Friday, January 11, 2008*</st1:date>
  <o:p> </o:p>
  The sun hasnt risen yet, the rest of the apartment is still asleep, and Im in the mood for some pinball. I shrug into my robe and feel my way down the hall to the little room where I have _The Addams Family_ table set up. I plug in the power and right away I hear Cousin Its jabbering followed by Raul Julia yelling, ITS SHOWTIME!

Ive been playing and having a blast for a while before I notice how much of a disturbance Im causing. Its not just the noise, but the fact that the entire room (and likely the rest of building) is vibrating. Its probably too late to make any difference, but I decide to stop and pull out the power cord. The table goes dark and quiet, the flippers stop in mid-flip, and even the ball freezes in place. That cant be a good way to leave the machine, so I restore the power long enough for the ball to drop into the gutter. <o:p></o:p>

----------

