non-lucid

This dream appeared to be a compilation of random memories. Yet, it seemed to fit together well.

At a hotel, the scene appeared rather sepia. I was standing atop something, dropping aerodynamic paper helicopters as part of some experiement.

Later, I was applying bug spray to myself, at a cave park that I previously visited in Eastern Ontario. The spray then became lotion, and it smelled of DEET, mixed with mint, which someone noticed. Perhaps the smell was another facade.

Soon, the scene merged somehow smoothly so that I was at my computer screen, which had an odd colour, resembling jelly in another facade. I soon wake up to the sound of my 8:15 alarm.

I get up, and turn off the alarm, heading back to sleep on this early morning day. A notable lack of woman, my dream had.

After some dream, I wake up - this would have been a WILD if not for the dream in between. At my cupboard of computer stuff in my computer bedroom, the digital clock was on the left side, when it was usually on the right. My computer was on the right side rather than the left, and for some reason it had a computer tower at the corner instead of being a rull laptop. I press the button, and turn off the computer. The tables start shaking, but it doesn't seem to be an earthquake.

Suddenly, the digital clock slides off the cupboard, although there seem to be no papers nearby, and falls onto the table below - SPLAT. I then ask my dad what that shaking might be.

Waking up for real again, I notice the shaking comes from a washing machine downstairs. So then, I fall asleep.

Somehow, I am still at my computer, browsing Facebook. A close friend of mine uploaded a song onto my Wall, which had not yet become a Timeline, as requested by January 31. A blurry, beige, bluish sepia scene was the thumbnail music video.

This was apparently a heavy metal rock song, created by my friends' basement band a few days ago. Its title was "i'm not gay". The subtitle: Few talk about the title. Another friend who I recently added and was a guitarist, liked the video.

Surely there would be comments on a video of this sort on a site like youtube, but there were none confronting the title, only one congratulating the uploader. The green like bar reached 1 like on the video itself.

Another friend had posted a status, initials RM, in the ticker tape on the right-top of the screen. His profile picture was someone drumming, but it was actually a close-up of the socks on top of the bass kickpedal, which was weird. Even weirder, the status said: It always rains when I'm looking at the screen.

Even weirder still, I woke up. Looking outside, the roof was white, and it was snowing, not raining, which was a pleasant thing to see.

Logic does not begin or end with fag - logic begins at hello.

This dream happened before 8 am this morning.

I was hired to send newspapers to some places. I sent only three by throwing them on doorsteps. Came back, and have no recollection of what happened next.

That is all I remember. The dream faded far too quickly as I rose out of bed.

Dream: January 25, 2012

No memory of how it all began.

On another bike ride, this time in a town south of where I currently live. I went into this street, where there was a car, some sort of apartment complex and a parking lot. The road banked sharply to my left, but to my right was some kind of downsloping hill and a passage.

Lieutenant Court, it said. Some kind of no-parking sign was near by, yet below was a very wide field of grass. Opposite where I went was another long street and intersection. The sky was more cloudy than clear. I went down the court, which stretched probably 100 metres, zipping down as I went along.

The trip back up was more time-consuming, as I walked back up the side of a grassy ravine. Headed toward a row of houses, but sometime later, I was back.

This time, the scene is a bit darker. I zoom down the same court road, as I did the first time. Yet by the time I climb back up, standing on the ledge of the grassy pit was a guard. He scared me, warned me about the no tresspassing signs, which I hadn't seen the first time. Rattled, I headed on home, and took one last look over the ravine. Some rows of buildings and tall apartments in the distance, a new and recent development perhaps.

Flash ahead, and I'm sitting in a classroom, debating about something. Don't know whether I won or lost, but it was a familiar topic, in my philosophy discussion class we were arguing. Raised some points I had in real life.

I woke up a short time later.

Dream: January 23, 2012

This was another one of my nine-day dreams. Happened the night after a massive US tornado outbreak.

It began to rain, although it was winter. The snowbanks on the ground all melted away, bit by bit, as it was far above freezing in this mid-winter thaw. Thought that some of the snow would stay, but it didn't.

In the morning, it actually did rain, and was above freezing. However, not all of the snow melted.

There was a previous dream before 8 am that I couldn't remember. Anyway, this one occurred between 9 and 11 am this morning.

I was sitting there, reading a book. Yet the history of this very book is something unusual, for someone I had met on Facebook had written its contents. I knew that for a fact, yet when I picked up this book, the hardcover with a beige background, large-letter font and a plastic jacket, nothing else about it seemed unusual.

Still can't remember whether I was just reading the book, or whether the events inside were actually happening to me, or whether in fact I was experiencing the book's contents while reading it. The only chapter title I remember is 13. Darriel. Why that name, I will never know. Yet in it, a mother had scribed in pen, telling her son, who was likely failing subjects in school, to "read this chapter". The chapter went on to discuss what written submissions had earned a failing mark, and whatnot. I, too, had written on the book's pages in pen, even though others would soon be reading the same book.

On chapter 19, there was a bit about camping, and sure enough, I was sitting under the stars, with the author of the book, at a campfire in the woodlands. Somehow, the author "knew" that because there were thunderstorms in the east, those would drift off and there would be no rain for 24 hours. Not sure if any of that were true. Just as I prepared to comment, I was whisked to a road in a nearby town...or maybe I just woke up, and was wondering about emailing a different author I knew. A flashback to a different forest, east of town, that I had visited before. Later, my father quipped that the author would have to be even stronger than him to accomplish some of the book's tasks, which was impossible.

From there, I was running south on a main street, very wide, and the sun was out, but no idea what season it was. I ran across intersections, bus stops and trees, seemingly never getting tired after about 10 kilometres. Running up to another bus stop advertisement, there was writing in a non-English language of a person who had an unusual expression on his face, reminding me of yet another person I'd met on Facebook. It roughly said, "every person, we serve equally, everyday". Maybe this was a utopian world that catered to disabilities. Just maybe. I kept running.

Waking up, the clouds were very bright, just after 11 am, and the Sun was about to shine through the blinds, signalling that I was to wake up, to do what I needed to do. In case you're wondering why none of my dreams are lucid, well, I hadn't had such a dream for years, except for that one in November. The lucid part of that dream lasted maybe three minutes, yet I had no control over any part of it, in stark contrast to the dreams I'd experienced before.

Dream: January 21, 2012

In the dream, this occurred between 1 am and 3 am. It was probably a bit later in waking life, though, as my dreams always occur in the morning hours.

It ended with sleep paralysis, or maybe it began.

Either way, this was my first episode of paralysis since November. It was night in my dream, morning in waking life, and I felt smothered by my sinus infection and the pillow. Lying down, as I was the previous time. Maybe this time I woke up, or went back to sleep, or woke up. I guess I will never know. Tried to move some of my appendages, but it was late.

At my house, my parents were preparing to leave. Yet I was out of bed, wide awake, past midnight. One of them would accompany the other to another country, as they loaded and packed up the car to go to Detroit (facade?). Something earlier happened too, but the details of that were now missing. I had a cell phone, and they had a cell phone.

About an hour passed, then half an hour. I took some baking soda, and did a line in the fridge, preserving something that would otherwise rot if the power went out. No idea why I did that, but it was suiting.

Picked up my cell phone, either to make a call or receieve one. My mom was on the phone, though it was difficult to hear, probably because of the great distance. The voice was becoming more static, and fading.

Just staring at the wall, none of it made any sense.

I looked at the time. 2:32, 2:34, 2:38. How much more time would pass, me sitting here, alone?

I knocked on my parents' door, as it was closed. They opened it, and were still inside the room. "But weren't you just driving to the airport?"

"No".

"But what about the cell phone?!"

That was weird. They were also disappointed about the baking soda, as I headed to bed, and they began to argue.

Outside, the sky had a purple glow, and the streetlights were orange. I had tried to close my eyes, run into the window, because I knew it was a dream at that point. Yet however close I was to pronouncing it a dream, I just couldn't convince myself, for I was unable to escape through that window. There was an extra tree in the street, too, a sure sign that it was a dream.

I ran again, and they just kept arguing. Waking up, they were still arguing about some of the same things as during my dream, as I drited in and out of sleep on a weekend morning.

Dream: January 19, 2012

The previous night I'd had a dream containing another "nutshot". Don't remember anything of it, but do remember this one.

I stepped outside. Would there be any thunder? It was supposed to be winter, yet the is the second time in a week that lightning lit up the noonday sky. The clouds were getting darker, the wind was picking up, and a warning sprang up on the TV. I had to go outside, I thought.

At night, the lightning turned the sky purple. Something else was going on, too, but no recollection of what it is could appear in my mind.

That day, I was to build a device for a competition. Also that same day, I saw some towering cumulus clouds ahead of a cold front, and it was winter, but no thunderstorms thus far...yet.

Dream: January 14, 2012

This was another one of my 9-day dreams, the dream that occurs once every nine days since I began blogging/journalling. Although more of my dreams were being remembered now, this one was particularly stark (reader's discretion advised).

A dark tragedy unfolded in 1989: the Montreal Massacre, at the École Polytechnique in December of that year. The perpetrator was Marc Lépine, who went on a rampage against those he called 'feminists'. This time, he was still alive, had an accomplice, and that was me.

I didn't know what the murderer really looked like, but the description seemed to fit. He uncocked his gun, shot fewer than a dozen people, who fell to the ground. That part would be blocked out from my memory, for I too was in shock.

We ran onto some grounds, a mix between a university campus and a hospital. The perpetrator again pointed his gun, but this time some security guards ran out, using walkie-talkies to signal each other that there had been an incident nearby. One or two of them were female, blonde, but none of them knew of our presence. Other than the atrocities we were about to commit, it was a rather fine day, little or no snow on the grass, and not a cloud in the sky.

We ran beside a concrete wall, in some type of enclosure. Marc lined up four adults: two men and two women; two Asians, one middle-eastern and one Caucasian. None of them seemed related. I stood to the side as the crime scene unfolded. The lights dimmed. It was a scary sight.

One by one, he shot them with a semi-automatic revolver. Blood flowed from their faces, and they dropped to the floor. A short time later, I woke up, trying to remember what was going on.

I had had some dreams before, in which a murder took place. Usually though, the person being pursued or killed was me. This time, though, I had actually been the accomplice to a murder. Never before had I been the actual murderer. Well, let's just hope it stays that way.

Dream: January 11, 2012

This one was a rather short dream. Most of them occur in the morning as this one did.

After packing up, I was soon on the road. It was a trip of some sort. The sky was blue, and small, and I alongside half a dozen of my groupmates were crammed in a jeep travelling through the suburbs of Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. I had never been there, but it (in facade) resembled a picture of Mount Fuji in Japan, without the volcano. After this spot, we would travel east to Petawawa. We wanted to stop for lunch.

Suddenly, I was back home. I looked at my computer screen, which had an eerie green colour. Typically it would be a nightmare to watch my computer screen do something unusual, but not this time, for I had overcome that fear already.

The next morning, I had a different dream.

In that dream, one of my close family members died. That was the nightmarish version, exemplifying a fear that I already had.

That day, I biked for about an hour in the rain.

This dream has nothing to do with Damascus. I dreamt it four nights ago, on the morning of the 5th, so it might be inaccurate by now. Weird, I seem to remember a dream every 9 days, but maybe that will change.

We were told to be prepared. Prepared that is, for a haunted house of some sort, that had been very scary to its previous visitors. It was a building created sometime in the late eighteenth century, sometime around 1770. We prepared to descend into the narrow steps. I was in a group of about a dozen or more people.

It was somewhat dark in the room, but there was a bright light from nowhere. Somewhat resembled one of my friends' houses' basements, but that must have been a facade of the actual memory, because it really wasn't like that at all. A picture of someone hung on the room, and it was frightening to enter and to look at--the picture resembled Abraham Lincoln, but that must be yet another facade.

As we entered, we expected everything from spooky noises to whatever you expect from ghosts. But a few seconds in, I discovered it wasn't scary at all.

The entire dream fragment lasted maybe one or two minutes, and yet few of the details are still remembered. As I woke up, it was morning, and my family was talking very loudly about a now-familiar topic: ghosts.

An unusual dream last night. Well, most of my dreams are pretty unusual as they are. This is going to be more detailed than my first journal, though.

I was looking across the street from where I live. Some sort of lemonade stand on my side of the street possibly, and the sky was clear while the sun a golden yellow. Across the street, somebody had set up a very real-looking scarecrow. It had been there for a couple of days. It was a moving scarecrow.

Across the street was some kind of teacher, maybe a chemistry teacher. He'd set up this scarecrow not to scare away pests from crops of any sort, but to scare students who misbehaved. Some kind of moving statue, or a type of effigy maybe. Just maybe.

WARNING: the next part is just slightly graphic. Reader's discretion advised.

The "scarecrow" very much resembled a male teenager, possibly about the age of 20. The other part of the moving scarecrow just a bit off, was golden in appearance and wore a suit of some sort, also human-like. The scarecrow-boy faced my side of the street, looking apprehensive. It was clear why. The figure in the golden suit was repeatedly kicking the scarecrow-boy in the crotch. A pained expression appeared on its (the scarecrow-boy's) face every time.

If you think that's weird, wait and see what happens next. Apparently the story goes that this kid always acted against the teacher in class, made wry jokes and all that. Saying goes that the teacher turned the kid into a scarecrow as a warning to others...or maybe made a replica of the actual kid...anyway, it's really hard to go into detail without inventing details.

For four or five days, the scarecrow was still there, doing the exact same thing it had before. I was doing something about the lemonade stand, and occasionally glanced over at that unusual scarecrow. Suddenly, it began to move differently than before.

The figure in the golden suit was kicking off-target now. The boy, or scarecrow, began to rotate. The next thing you know, the two figures were exchanging kicks at each other's crotch, and the boy, now clearly not just a scarecrow, was trying to disable the golden suit figure, without any success. After a few minutes, the scarecrow-boy was being pounded again.

A close relative of mine came over. "If that's a person", she began, "what an interesting person".

I paused, searching for the words. "It IS a person".

"What?" She was incredulous. And what made me believe that? I explained that I hadn't seen it (meaning proof it was a person) for several days, but just today I saw something change. Tried to explain, but she wouldn't believe me. Nobody would. For that moment, the scarecrow was doing the exact same thing it had been doing before, except the scarecrow-boy was now facing the suited golden figure. Must have been built into the mechanism somehow.

Just when I started to doubt whether this thing was really a person, the boy grabbed the foot that was rising up, paused for a moment, and delivered a really hard kick to the golden figure's jewels. No more roshambo, no more Russian Roulette, no more scarecrow. It was as if five days' worth of frustration were stored in that kick, as his blue flat-soled runner crushed into the golden figure and almost lifted it off the ground. It fell backwards into the dust or something.

I was standing in the middle of the street or something, not sure what to do. Help this kid who seemed first like a scarecrow, go inside to show proof this really was a person, continue selling lemonade? Moments later, the entire "scarecrow" returned to its original motion, doing its thing to scare misbehaving students. Anyway, I wasn't able to help the kid. Would have been too scared for my own *ahem* safety.

WARNING OVER - it is now safe to continue reading. Relatively speaking.

I went into the basement. It was dark, dim and damp. For days, my drinking water had contained these semisolid globules, that tasted exactly like water, but ruined the texture. Boiling the water did absolutely nothing.

In the basement, the water heater pipes were open. This half-tube, similar to gutters on a roof, was filled with water about to be pumped into the heater. I scooped up some of the water. Ice cold. Yet then I noticed something.

This wasn't water! Looking closely at it again, I scooped up a handful of these granules, somewhat like snow, but had the consistency of those clear hydrate balls that seem to disappear when you put it in water. But it felt like styrofoam. Looking closely at it, it seemed like some long polymer chain, or some scale replica of an unknown chemical.

Thin spaghetti-like rods connected the granules, which were greyish-white and greyish-blue. Maybe these were water additives?! Scooped up some of this gooey stuff, and placed it in a container. The rods disappeared when touched or immersed in water, and were invisible to the touch (don't ask). Maybe it was a scale model of the chemical contained inside the scale model of itself.

I put some in my mouth. At that temperature, it started to melt, with the consistency oAf Jell-o mixed with sand. So this was that discusting mixture that appeared in my drinking water, dumb city works. But what the heck was it?!

I theorized that the grey-white end "molecules" must bond to the water molecules through polar electropotential interaction. After that, the long chains separated, and later clumped into the water that you drank. Whatever it was...I don't need it in my drinking water, do I?!

Or maybe it was the chemist...

My computer froze. Or rather, it didn't. I was on my Facebook page, searching for somebody to add. I'd thought of adding someone named Mandy Moore, and after thinking about it, I did.

Mandy was a grade younger than me, and had a face resembling Rebecca Black. Given a closer look though, she didn't look so much like the singer of the earbug bad-lyric song about the American economic recession, one that supposedly says that we don't know whether the "weekend" will come. Well, it was Tuesday.

I had found Mandy attractive, and wanted to talk to her. However, I then realized she was friends with somebody who liked me last year and I didn't like back. Well, I figured that wouldn't matter much.

Soon enough, Mandy accepted my friend request, but she was offline. I waited for her to come online.

Minutes later, after the spattering of dream fragments in no particular chronological order, I woke up. It was around 4:10 a.m.

I set my alarm that morning for 7:30. It was unusual to wake up this early, no matter. I seemed to be developing a cold, and my sinus infection hadn't gotten any better. I kept coughing, and went to the bathroom. The lights came on, and they went off. 30 minutes later, I fell back asleep.

The following dream fragments were much less memorized, likely because I took care to remember the first set of dreams.

The early part, I held a saucer-shaped object in my arms as I dozed off into bed. It was a radio of some sort, able to communicate to a UFO disk. Soon I was inside the UFO, and ordered to program some sort of mechanism. The time was close to 11 pm. I started coughing.

Later, much later, I had some small fish I decided to take home as pets, about anchovy-size. I decided to wash them. Sadly, they all died.

One of the fish had the flag of Italy painted on its tail. Must be one of those artificially chemical-painted fish.

A bit later, I was inside a car, and one of my parents was driving. There was snow all around and the car had a bit of trouble driving uphill, and anyway, this wasn't the route we usually took by car. Usually I'd bike up this very hill. I looked at the time. Looked at the radio. Suddenly, I woke up, and the radio came on.

The radio program featured a re-run of a past conversation. I was glad what one caller mentioned, as it was talk radio.

Anyway, maybe it's clear why I had some of these dream themes. I had owned goldfish two to three years ago, but they all died due to horrible tank conditions. The consistency of the water granules likely resulted partly from an experiment in class we did a while ago using round marble-sized clear objects that seemed to disappear yet expand when put in water. As for the scarecrow, well...I leave that one up to you.

I'll share the second part of my dream last night. This is my first journal.

I was on an expedition or something. I walk onto this marshy land, where these cliffs and exposed tree roots surround me. It's some form of tundra but there are tall pine trees everywhere. A few rivers beneath the cliffs. There are also these white bears foraging for food.

Suddenly, one of the white bears runs across a cliff gap, lurching directly at me. I close my eyes, and the bear attacks. I experience a false awakening-that's all I remember.