non-lucid

Getting back into the flow of dream journalling, I'm reminded just how much friction there is before you actually decide to write the dream. I have the memory of recalling more, but this is all I managed to get down this morning.

I was in school, drawing, when my old principal walked in the room. He danced around it for a second, but eventually told me that I was allowed to doodle since I had a good record. My classmates were not a fan of this development, but they had little say in the matter.

Later on, in a church-like room, I walked up to a vacant piano and started playing jazz (a genre I don't play iwl). A family-friend of mine played drums in the background to accompany me. My mind now clued me into the fact that I never learned how to play this, and I was dimly aware of the unlikelihood of me hitting harmonic chords every time. I tried to move my LH to play some random keys too, but no signs of discordant music. The music was pleasant. After I finished, the same principal came up to congratulate me and ushered me back to a seat.

Later on, I was in this convenience store dining hall esque area. I knew somehow that this was a secret room of the school. The dining hall has a fridge that I walk up to. Inside the fridge is a stainless steel artifice, circular in shape, made from several components. I knew it to be a heater, and tried to jerry-rig it for some reason, but the moment I tried it, brilliant flashes of yellow electricity shot through the room.

And that's all I wrote.