Verre

Recall: 3/10. I'm in the town where I grew up but I'm an old woman. I'm jogging and despite my age I feel like it is effortless, so I decide to run the five miles to my house outside of town. I am crossing an intersection as I decide this, and suddenly something sails through the air and nearly hits me. It clatters to the pavement and I see it is an empty half-sized soda can. I look around for where it came from, and see a black man, evidently a vagrant, who is shouting and throwing them at me. He seems angry but I can't make out his words. He throws a second and then a third can.

I try to go another way to avoid him but find myself in a cul-de-sac that leads through a narrow alley into an even darker square surrounded by tall buildings. It looks creepy and dangerous, and from the lack of light I assume that the alley is the only way out or in. There is a dumpster in the alley and a guy going through it. I have no reason to go this way and fear for my safety if I do, so I return to my original route. The ground of this cul-de-sac street is covered with bananas, layers of them flattened and smashed against the ground, filling the air with a fruity, overripe smell. I don't remember my town being so heavily involved in the banana industry, and it doesn't make sense given that bananas don't even grow around here, but I can't discount the evidence all around me. As I leave the cul-de-sac and return to the main street, I am running over such a thick layer of smashed bananas on the ground that I have to take extra care not to slip and fall.

Some clothes in a shop catch my eye, and I pause to look them over. There are two outfits that seem ideal for an elderly woman like me, or at least, they look like the sort of thing you often see old ladies wearing. Both consist of a zip-up top and half-length pants in matching polyester. I try on the pants of one set, but don't like the texture of the cloth, and although it looks like I'd still be able to run in them, I wonder if they would end up chafing my legs. I decide to stick with my knee-length black lycra running tights and put them back on.

I start running home again. Then I remember how some people use the mental image of a repetitive motion, like running, as an anchor during their WILD attempts. I think it might be fun to give this a try and see if I can run right into the dream state. Even though conditions are ideal (given that I'm already dreaming at the time!) my attempts amount to little and I don't get lucid. I have the impression I started thinking this while I was actually in the process of waking up.