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Morning of September 19, 2014. Friday.



In my dream, I am in a seemingly unknown building though of which has aspects as a possible composite that includes the Cubitis living room and our present home’s living area. At one point, there is some sort of telephone call or paging for me, but the call comes from some sort of intriguing larger coin-operated video game of the kind from the mid-1980s. This does not seem unusual to me. I press a button under the top front edge of it to take the call by way of a small hidden microphone and the (unrecognized and remaining unknown) caller’s voice comes from the speaker of the machine.

Supposedly, I am to do some sort of job which may relate to mowing and maintaining a public building. I had done work like this (with several others) in a previous dream at either a shopping mall or hospital (or both in being in the same area). There seems to be something else, though - something mysterious and possibly relating to another job regarding surveillance or detective work.

My voice sounds a bit unusual; not like mine, but like a fairly young boy’s (though not like I really sounded as a boy). In any case, the caller says that I sound like Steve Finch and for a time, thinks I am him. (I know of no one with this name in reality.)

Over time, I try to speak more “correctly”, though the caller still thinks I may be the other person. Oddly enough, I am supposedly the actor Bruce Willis. At least, I seem to think I am to some degree in my dream (without any seeming pretense). I explain that I have a “voice modulator” - so this is why I sound as I do. I tell him that I have forgotten how to turn it off.

We arrange some sort of meeting with a “guard” of some kind. Supposedly, this guard is a representative and “protector” of a certain type of dream environment in another location of the supraconscious as well as being some kind of judge of dream workers. Oddly though, I do not relate it to the fact that I may be dreaming at the time so I never become lucid. I am to meet her in another location, which is apparently like some sort of portal to other types of dream states. Even though I will be instantly killed if I do not meet with her approval, I do not seem to be worried by my state of mind relating to the unexplained and dreaming itself due to my continuous and validated experiences with remote-viewing and precognition since earliest memory.

There is soon another person who explains this to me; an older unknown female on my left. We walk to an area near a small wooden fence where the “guard” is to judge me. One section of the fence is broken, but that does not seem ominous in any way. As this unknown female approaches, I maintain a very precise and clear open and honest perspective, wanting to express all of myself with full sincerity to “automatically” avoid my potential destruction (in short, by just “being me”). She towers over me - over twice my height (not as a giant, but as I am now seemingly of a child’s perception with an amazingly clear memory and orientation of when I was that size). She seems almost like a bag lady at this point. (She also reminds me somewhat in afterthought of the crossing guard from when I lived on Rose Street at age five.) She soon approves of me, allowing me to live and to continue dreaming, this being because of my lifelong connection to the unexplained and my sincere interest in the mysteries and meanings of dreams, it seems.

Before she leaves, I ask her about how precognition works. I ask if it is related to “threads”, like individual threads of a spider web, from both the potential future, and the “threads” of prior thought and memory simultaneously aligning in the present (in the sense of a fractal equation balancing out) - in other words, the human mind as a “spider” picking up the subtle “vibrations” in distant parts of the “spiderweb” or the event horizon of the theoretical future. I probably do not clearly explain myself as she shakes her head “no” in a very subtle way (but does not at all seem displeased) before walking off as my dream slowly loses cohesion. It may be that she did this to express that she did not have the time to answer any of my questions regardless of what they were.

After poor rest for a couple days and a major headache I managed to do a WBTB and have some great lucidity.

Plus, I continue to dream of celebrities. At least this time they were naked.


[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]I find myself in my old house, the one I grew up in for nearlyall of my adolescence. The living roomis arranged differently, and it’s messier than I would like. I’ve apparentlyjust woken up from a nap or something and I’ve been sleeping on the floor, thepillow and bedmat beneath me testimony to this fact. I am grumpy, and some ofmy disgruntled feelings are directed at my son.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]In front of my pillow is his backpack, and seeing as how heisn’t in the room I decide it’s time I check to see what he’s been taking toand from school. I pull the zipper down on the black bag and I am greeted withpapers, folders, and some trash that is not out of place at all among hisstuff. I’m not interested in any of this, and I dig deeper, reaching for whatlies at the bottom of the bag. Here I find some plastic toys, and I pull outpiece after piece of what appears to be a babies toy desighned for teething. Ican’t even fathom why he would be taking so many baby toys to school, brightlycolored and clearly intended for someone much younger than him. All I can do isshake my head in disbelief.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Beyond these pieces of toy I also find a blue plasticdrinking cup, and this literally makes me roll my eyes. I keep finding thesecups everywhere, and I just want it gone. With a flick of my right hand I shootthe cup into the air, intending for it to land a few feet from me, but the fanabove and the air conditioner carry it further towards the middle of the roomwhere it hits Jen on her side as she sleeps in the recliner. She stirs andturns her face towards me, sleepily asking, “What?!” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, or even for thecup to hit you. It was the fan.” [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Indeed the fan above is spinning quite fast, though as I saythis I doubt myself, thinking maybe I did mean for it to hit her. I can seethat there’s no way, physically, that the wind from the combined fans couldever send the cup to hit her, especially from the angle with which itdescended. The only thing I can presume is that I did it on purpose.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Next time don’t throw it so hard!” She rolls over to goback to sleep, still covered by the red and green horse blanket.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3]I look at my hand to wonder how I could have made the cupfly so far, and this induces lucidity. I quickly count my fingers, noting thateverything appears normal. I know I don’tbecome aware of my hands often so I’m pleased to recognize the sign for what itwas. My right hand touches my left and I’m surprised to find my hand is solid,warm, and unyielding. What I see as I turn my hand around almost makes me startleout of the dream.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]On the palm of my left hand I have a sore, almost like adark blister, directly below my little finger. I use my right hand to squeezeit and it bursts like a large pimple, pus and blood squirting into my righthand. I’m disgusted but I don’t feel sick despite what I have done, and myfirst thought is to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. I know I’m dreaming yetI look around to make sure no one has seen me, feeling slightly embarrassed tohave a burst hand-pimple. A vague thought about a magician crosses my mind butI can’t seem to find anything to connect it to.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I head to my bedroom, the one down the hall and on the left,just where it had been when I grew up. The bed and walls are primarily thesame, as are some of the belongings, but the shelves along the west wall arevery different. I had put shelves up once in real life but the shelves I’mseeing are sunk into my wall. Boxes line them from one end to the other, andspringy black coils stick out of a couple of them.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]It turns out that when I left my old job I took quite a fewof the binding supplies with me. Black binding coils of every size fill theshelves, though this causes me no great concern. What does surprise me is thatI have a box of the special order vinyl pockets we used for maps and largedrwaings, and it is full. These vinyl pockets were quite expensive, I remember,and I feel surprised I took them at all. Still, they are quite useful. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As I flip through them, using my finger to page themone-by-one, someone behind me asks, “What will you do when you run out?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I could just ask Curt to get me afew. He still works there.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“How many would you get?”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Not more than five at most.” I say this knowing I wouldn’twant him to get in trouble and that five seemed a reasonable number to walkaway with.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I stand up from my kneeling position and let my gaze passover the shelves towards the door to my room, slightly closed. Something lookswrong with it and at first I’m unsure if it’s crooked. As I stare I realize itis indeed slanted, and I walk up to it with greater curiosity. When I approach theproblem becomes clear. Someone has attached the hinges of the door directly tothe wall using drywall mounts that are starting to pull out of the wall. Themounts don’t look like the usual hooks that spread out on the inside of a wall,appearing instead like translucent plugs that merely push into a hole.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I think to myself, “I can fix that. Not today, but somedaysoon.”[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I walk back into the living room and stand near the back ofthe recliner chair. I can see my bed-mat in the far corner, and my son is on mypillow with his head, his butt sticking up in the air.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Son, get off my pillow!” I don’t shout but the tone in myvoice suggests he should comply quickly. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]To my right and in front of me is a large TV, almost like asmall movie screen, and it is showing an old black and white movie starringBruce Willis and Michael Caine. Both men are detectives trying to find amurderer, and both men are naked. They hold a conversation in a room with apotted plant and a small upholstered bench, their penises dangling from side toside as if in perpetual motion.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My scene shifts and I am co-host on a talk show, though Ifeel slightly underdressed in my tank-top and shorts. Still, none of theaudience seems to mind so I just go with it. Behind me is a platform with lotsof colored lights and what appears to be a game-show set, though I can’t figureout what the game is. It seems unimportant as I realize I’m standing next tothe special guest, Bruce Willis.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I look up at him and I become lucid again. I know I’mdreaming because there’s no way this could ever happen, especially not with methis close to him dressed so casually. What especially catches my eye is howhandsome he is, and I know he doesn’t look this good in real life. The man nextto me is tall, has good hair, is smiling charismatically, and looks great in hisblue jeans and white button-down shirt.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I hug him with strength and passion, smelling him as I feelhis body heat transfer to me through our clothes. He feels good, real good, andI sink down to his knees, still hugging his leg. I look up at him as I turnaround, my left hand coming up and stroking him right beneath the crotch withthe gentlest touch against the bulge in his pants. At this moment I so wantsomething to happen between us. He doesn’t flinch, and I take this as a sign ofhis acceptance towards future actions.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]Remembering my role as a host I make the connection that Ineed to please my audience, and this makes me think of my friend Chris. I knowhe would want to see Bruce Willis in person, though I suspect I could never getthe two to meet directly even after my crotch-stroking experience. I decide Ican do the next best thing and I conjure two audience passes out of thin air. Imake sure they both have the correct wording on them and then I send them offinto the ether. Glancing into the audience I see he has arrived and is sittinga few rows behind the platform where I am still clinging to Bruce’s leg. Ismile and wave at him.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]And then I wake up.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]

Last night's recall was again very poor. I remember only a fragment. At least I'm still keeping the "recalled something" streak. Here's a short dream from the past:

Bruce Willis, Sergio Busquets & Me
Date: June 30th, 2009
Lucid: No

I was in some kind of running competition with Bruce Willis and Sergio Busquets. Everybody knows who Willis is, but in case you don't know Busquets, well, he is a footballer playing for FC Barcelona. There were other competitors as well, but us three were by far in front of the others. Busquets started creating a gap to us, which makes sense, you'd think professional footballer can outrun a recreational footballer and an old actor. But when Willis tried to overtake me, I had had enough! We started really gritting our teeth and taking everything our muscles gave us.

In the end the race escalated to Willis somehow summoning a car for himself. God damn! That's cheating! Luckily I managed to summon some help as well - soon I found myself chasing Willis with a motorcycle. Bruce wasn't much of a driver, as he crashed into the woods in a turn. I started just watching the crash amazed and because I didn't keep my eyes on the road, I crashed into a rock! I went over the motorcycle and smashed into the same bush as Bruce.

We just looked at each other and started laughing. I'm glad we at least found the comedy of it.

I took a CnG (http://lucidallnight.wordpress.com/2...oline-a-guide/) to jump start August and as usual, it worked well. Although my recall is still a little spotty, I remained pretty lucid and there were moments of hyper realism. So a pretty good one.

Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes? (dild)

Don't remember the beginning too well. I remember my hands having more fingers than normal and I'm lucid.

It is dark and I am in the alley. I see the moon and I throw my hands out, palm down and try to lower it and raise a sun. The moon begins to fall but it turns into a fireball. Sort of a sun but it just returns to a normal moon when I stop focusing on it. I try to throw fireballs/energy balls but it doesn't work. The dream is quite stable so I try for at least 2 minutes. I try vocal commands and focuses on the feeling of my hands but nothing happens.

I fly around my neighborhood a little bit and it is sort of snowing a little. Nothing really catches my attention so I go into my neighbors house. There isn't even room to move. It is just sort of enclosed space. I lose vision but remain in the dream using tactile sensations.

I am back in the alley and again I lose vision. I drop to the floor and feel the gravel. I re-enter the dream.

I got into my neighbors house. NOT the normal neighbors' but a different house. I lose vision but I start destroying the place. Tossing chairs and tipping a dresser until the dream reforms and I am back in the alley.

I fly up and see basement swing doors in my neighbors yard.



I open them and climb down the ladder. It is sort of like a warehouse/old dusty tomb. There is dirt and some vines too. I see a snake coiled up and decide to go the other direction. More snakes. I sort of lose lucidity, just running through this place, stomping and killing any snakes in my way. I get bit at from the side by a snake and it feels just like a light bee sting. No big deal.

I stop running and stabilize. I kick up sort dirt and just watch it swirl around. I pick up a stick and hit this bucket on a rope and watch it swing around as gravity takes its toll and it slows. That was cool.

Then out of nowhere there is a naked women. No doubt inspired by a recent entry in Xel's journal. Things heat up and the dream is real vivid. It segues somehow into something else. I remember continuing through the warehouse place until I found Bruce Willis, who is mumbling about something that happens when we can no longer dream and we lose our hair. I ask “But what about death and God and all that?” and I wake up.

I think there was more but don't remember. Anyways, I got to go.

Frags:

1. My grandfather has a computer that is held together by duct tape at a party. Kyle Gass is on drums. I eat a red snow cone and it is really good.