Recent DJ Posts

non-dream dream semi-lucid lucid FA / AP

I am in Afghanistan and about to leave, but first I am going to say bye to a tailor who is my friend. There is a line of women stretching for like 50 meters, in despair, trying to order burqas so they can cover themselves. The tension is high. First I turn away to leave, but then decide to go back and wait a little bit to see if I can reach my friend. I watch these women and I cry for them. A couple men come by and start checking the women standing in line, bullying those who are less covered or in western clothes. I know I can't do anything, so I leave and avoid looking any man in the eyes. Some kids with water guns spray water on me and I say nothing and just carry on. I know how easily the men would just kill me for saying anything. I am scared and heartbroken.

A bizarre fragment:
Seemingly, an anime-styled woman asks me something which I don't remember. I also don't remember anything else from this dream.

Dori, what are you doing?
I am standing in the living room. The TV is on, but I don't remember what it showed, but I think I see two people, close to each other. Likely an event in a series. Dori, my cat, plays around with an object in the doorway to the living room, which I remember as disc-shaped and Ronja, her sister, is sitting on a towel on the living room table. For some reason, Dori doesn't react to what I want her to do and I am despairing, I think I remember even almost crying.

non-dream dream semi-lucid lucid false awakening

(...) I think I've been here before in another dream. There was a strange apartment with a long glass window and I saw a horse inside the house... There were also some dangerous, violent individuals, acting like zombies... It seems the same place, it has the same feeling to it.
I see people around, but they seem harmless, normal. Only a bit desperate. Then this guy arrives. He wears a white suit and has long white hair. He is not handsome, but there's something attractive about him. But as soon as he talks, I recognize him. Shit, he has been appearing a lot. He adresses all these people, he offers them a chance, a path, a hope, if only they sign this contract with him. I warn them "don't do it! he'll take your soul!", but they don't care, they ignore me. He comes agressively towards me. Although his face and demeanour remain the same, I see him as he truly is: monstrous! I feel terror, but I hold my ground. "No! You'll never have my soul! Leave me alone!" I run away.

i should have wrote this first thing this morning but ya know, i didn't.
The dream i had bounced around alot but ill tell u what i remember.

My ex (daughters mother) was dating an old employee i used to work with. and i was helping them move stuff into a new house that they purchased and during that time i remember feeling pain and mental suffering, heartbreak as they were doing little things in front of me as if they were trying to hurt me mentally on purpose. In front of the door to the house they were moving into i was on a teeter totter type thing and it kept raising me up to the top part of the house then back down again. that's when i woke up. and as soon as i opened my eyes i felt like it was still happening but i then realized right away that it was a dream. it felt so real even though it was ridiculous. but i was relieved that it wasn't real

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was out walking on a sidewalk in a residential area. The road I was on went down a steep slope and up another steep slope, making a kind of U- or V-shape. I was near the bottom, heading up the "left" side of the U. The houses on the street were all nice, and the curbs seemed to be pretty well lined with tall, leafy trees. There were a lot of cars parked out along the curbs. There also seemed to be a decent amount of car traffic.

I may have stopped as I was going up the slope. I may have turned around. I may have felt some kind of despair, as if I didn't know where to go.

Suddenly a greyish Mercedes-like car passed me going down the slope. I suddenly had a note on a piece of paper in my hand. It said something like, "MY and LJ are coming for you. You are going to live with us now." (MY and LJ are two people I talk with on another website.)

I knew that the Mercedes had come from MY and LJ. I continued walking down the slope, hoping to get a glimpse of the car again. I heard a voice call my name from across the street. I looked over to see the grey Mercedes now parked. A few people were standing outside the car.

The person who had called my name waved at me. I recognized her as L, MY's mom. She was kind of tall, a tiny bit overweight, and had kind of pale skin and long, black hair. She wore a kind of loose-fitting tank top of a crepe-like material, colored with vivid blue, green, red, and possibly purple and white blotches against a black background. She also may have worn white pants.

I crossed the street to L. I knew that if I was going to live with MY, that L would be my mom, too. There was probably another woman, who I probably thought of as LJ's mom. LJ might have been there, too, possibly as an adult man or woman. There was also a tall, thin man with tough, tan skin, a big, grey beard, and kind of balding head of long, grey, wiry hair. The man wore a dirty, grey tank top and light grey slacks.

I was wondering when I would finally get to meet MY. L lifted up a car seat, which was just sitting by the car on the road. In the seat was an infant girl, dressed in a white onesie with pink trim and a pink bib. I held the car seat, with the baby inside it. I didn't know who this baby was. I knew there was another baby nearby, wearing the same outfit, except blue.

The car seat seemed to be sinking down in my arms, toward the ground, as if I were losing my ability to hold it. L may have also said she thought it was time for me to put down the baby, or I may have thought it would be a good time for me to put down the baby.

But just as I was sitting the baby down, she began sucking at one of my nipples, through my shirt. She wasn't trying to nurse from me (I don't know what she would have gotten out of a guy's nipple). She was doing something more like telling me she wanted me to keep holding her.

Dream #2

I was in "my apartment." I walked out of the apartment, into the hallway. There was a tall, young, white man in the hallway. He may have walked into my apartment. I don't know if he walked back out. I went back into my apartment, into the kitchen, which was just off from the front door.

Dream #3

I was in a cafe that kind of looked like a bar. It was big, as big as a restaurant, and it was made with lots of dark wood. I sat in a small, two-person booth at the front of the restaurant, right across an aisle from the front end of the service counter. In front of me, beyond my booth, was a big set of shelves stacked with free newspapers. Just beyond that was a huge front window-wall, as big as one that might be seen at the front of a grocery store.

The place may have felt and sounded busy. At one point, a customer seemed to be arguing with or yelling at the guy behind the service counter.

An Asian woman, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s sat down across from me at my booth, without asking, and even kind of forcibly and abruptly. I was a little offended, but I just decided to act like she hadn't done anything unusual.

I looked at her face and realized she was a famous author. (I may have thought of her as the famous -- male -- physicist Michio Kaku.) I was kind of surprised that someone so famous would want to sit with anybody. I figured she'd be so hounded by fans that she'd treasure any moment she could get alone.

The woman had slammed her coffee down at sat down. But now she jostled up, kind of impatiently, out of her seat. She grabbed some sugar from a stand near the newspaper shelves and came back. She irritably stirred her sugar, slopping her coffee out of the cup. It suddenly seemed like there was a mess of coffee stirrers, sugar wrappers, napkins, sugar, and coffee everywhere.

For a moment, things seemed to be silent. I thought perhaps I should talk to the author. Maybe she'd sat with me because she'd wanted to talk with me. And I apparently was a fan of her work. So I thought I'd have something to ask her. But I was afraid to talk to her, thinking she would just think of me as another big fan.

Now another customer was yelling at a guy, probably a different guy, behind the service counter. This time it definitely sounded like the customer was upset because the food he had ordered was in such bad condition that the man couldn't have it. All of this kind of food had been wrecked for the day. The customer was really upset. He left.

For some reason this all sounded really interesting to me. I stood up to ask the worker what was going on. The author, thinking she should follow my "good actions," as if I had been acting out of concern, quickly stood up and came with me to the counter.

I asked the worker what had happened. The worker was tall, white, kind of skinny, with shaggy, brown hair and pale eyes. He wore a dark baseball cap and probably a dark polo shirt with thin, green stripes.

The worker just responded, "Well, he just got annoyed. You know how ----- (another worker) always has that saying of his? 'If you gotcha, then mmm... gotcha!'"

I now saw a torn piece of notebook paper with this saying written sloppily on it in black ink. The quote was upside down to my view. I understood that the worker had repeated this quote often enough that he was really starting to tick all the customers off.

I now went up into some upstairs area in the cafe. I opened a door and found myself at the back of a performance space. It was just a kind of long, narrow featureless room. It was all dark, except at the front area, which served as a stage, and was lit with normal, incandescent stage lights. The audience didnt't seem to have any chairs. There were a lot of people, but they all seemed to be sitting on things like big cushions or wooden cubes.

The performers were a small rock band, led by a female singer. The song began. It was very distinctive. It had a really nice, sad sound and some interesting harmonies. The song made me look closer at the woman. She was kind of short and thin. She wore a bright turquoise sundress. She had lightly copper-tan skin and blonde-brown hair in a semi-beehive. She wore big, wide, wrap-around sunglasses.

I thought I'd recognized this singer. So I walked up toward the front of the audience, to a group of my friends. They were all young, Indian or southeast Asian guys and girls, with darkish skin. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I asked them, "Isn't that Atilia?" (Atilia Haron, a Malaysian pop singer I like.)

One guy said, "No. This girl sings this song. It's called Pelita. It's for this movie. There's a flyer up front." (Pelita is a song by another Malaysian group called A.P.I.)

The concert seemed to be over. My friends and other people in the audience were leaving. I walked up to the front, kind of in a hurried, crouching fashion, as if the concert were still going on and I didn't want to get in people's view, as well as wanting to get back to my friends quickly.

There was a painted bench up front. There were two stacks of flyers on it. Both flyers were the size of regular pieces of paper. One flyer had a background like a deep blue, starry sky. The flyer was advertising something about the cosmos. The word "Cosmos" may have been in the title. The event was either a lecture or a film.

The second flyer advertised the band. It was white, with some kind of yellow framing fading in and out of the background. There was a kind of art-nouveau design of a bird like a phoenix, done in heavy, black lines, with bright colors in the spaces between the black lines.

The woman's name was at the top of the page. The first name was something like Nfemini or Nefmini. The second name was something like Salmani or Salyami. I got the impression that the woman was either Egyptian or Israeli.

Dream #4

I was in a cafe. I was sitting in a front area. But then I got a phone call. So I decided to walk to a back area to talk.

The back area seemed to be behind a partition like a backless bookshelf full of books. The back area was dark, lit as if from a single incandescent bulb on the floor somewhere. There were some tables in the room and a leather bench with tables along the right wall. There were a lot of people around.

I sat in the bench. I sat right next to some bookbag or backpack without thinking of it. I started talking with the person who'd called me. But just as I was starting to talk, a young man walked toward me. I realized that the backpack was the man's. I had inadvertently sat in his seat.

So I got up and sat at one of the tables in the room, continuing to talk with the person on my phone. I had the thought that it had been good, after all, that I'd moved to one of the tables. A phone conversation at the bench would distract too many people, including the young man.

Dream #5

I woke up in "my bedroom." I was on a tall bed, under a whole bunch of blankets. The room seemed to be nice but small and really cluttered. A lamp was on on a small dresser near the head of my bed. It made a bright, kind of yellowy light.

I rolled out of bed and walked through the cluttered room. To the left of the door was a random box, on top of which was a huge, plastic package of diapers. Diapers may have been spilling out of the container. There may actually have been diapers scattered all over the room.

I don't think I was "myself." I seemed to be a tall, kind of thin, but muscular, white man, kind of easygoing, walking and thinking with a bit of a swagger that I definitely don't have in waking life.

I went into the bathroom. I got out of the shower (apparently I had taken a shower). I was drying off. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I thought, for some reason, that maybe I should just put on a diaper and pee in that, instead. That thought really turned me on, for some reason. But I didn't really think it was a good idea to just go walking around in a diaper.

Suddenly I was either putting a diaper on or taking it off. It seemed completely shredded, for some reason, and there seemed to be all kind of layers to the diaper. One layer seemed like thin, clear plastic-wrap. Another layer was a kind of porous material, like the tops of tennis shoes.

Now the world is gone, I'm just one...

I wake up in my bed. I am naked, I wonder at the fact that it's already time for me to awaken, since it feels as though I've only just fallen asleep. I'm about to leave my room, but on the way out I lean against the wall near my door, pressing my forehead against it. 'How can I know whether I'm dreaming, or awake? It's all the same... How can I know any of this is even real... Keep sleeping to dream, because I hate my life, hoping I'll come out of it better, with some shred of something I can use, something to inspire, to move, to find an answer, an escape. But sleep just seems to install new bars into this cell. How can I even know I'm not dreaming right now.'

For the fuck of it, I flip the light switch just beneath my head on and off. Nothing happens. I look at the ceiling, the walls. Everything is here. The mask hanging from my door, the books, the silvery rays coming in through the window. I realize I'm not awake, but still asleep. I reflect for a few moments on how detailed and vivid everything is, how 'real' it is, nothing missing. Realizing this doesn't make me happy or excite me, but instead fills me with a feeling of isolation. The walls no longer real, just pictures of walls, the idea that beyond them, isn't a real city, no apartment, no livingroom, no father... Beyond these walls there isn't a home, because these walls aren't real. They're just my memory of them. And what of the real walls? Those don't build a home, either. I'm upset by the lack of comfort, familiarity, of reality, since this 'room' is just a 'ruse'. My malaise deepens as I reflect on how, 'the real thing', isn't actually any better. What was I expecting?

An anatomically correct digital rendering of someone's face, speaking, crying... The 'realness' of it isn't moving, but disturbing, soul-less. It looks so real, it's 'correct', but it isn't. It isn't comforting. It's unnerving, you become suspect of something so... Accurate, but, lifeless. A doll.

I pull on a pair of jeans and start to slide my belt through the loops. I stop partway through fastening the belt, realizing the pointlessness of getting dressed in a world that consists of only me. I think, I don't want to know what's outside of these walls. And I don't have to, I can leave another way. I open the window and remember how I'd been thinking about jumping out of it. Well, now I can. I remember how much I think about punching it until it breaks, when I'm mad. I slide the window as far open as it'll go, but it refuses to open far enough to let me jump out of it, it jams.

So I punch the window. It doesn't give. 'This is MY DREAM, and you BREAK.' I put my fist through it, it shatters, shredding my knuckles open and raking the flesh off my arm as it goes through. My arm is 'reforming' as quickly as it's being torn apart, as I need to thrust several times to knock out all of the leftover shards. Knots of scartissue creep up my arms like ribbons, replacing the gashes. I rip the frame out of the window and toss it behind me.

For a moment I question whether I'm really dreaming, or just having delusions of grandeur before I jump out of a window and kill myself. 'I'm going to fly,' and I close my eyes and rocket out of the window, or so I think. Turns out I actually just jumped REALLY HIGH. I float back down onto a building lined up right beneath my window. Looks like a warehouse. I am alone. I consider making someone to travel alongside me, consider summoning a DC. I start forming one, particles aligning in the air. I delete it before it materializes completely. There's no point. She's hollow. A shell. Like building a robot of a woman. I can't bring myself to do it. I have to just move forward and hope there's something at the end, hope I'll find someone, find somewhere.

The fastest way to the other side of the warehouse is 'through', so I slide the door open and go in. Inside is a 'panic room', the walls made of steel. I hear the door behind me bolt shut. It's silent, just like outside. Nothing, no one, is in here. I shake my head and laugh, egging on my subconscious. 'I can't be kept in here. Is this supposed to make me afraid?' I go to the far wall and sock it. It leaves a huge dent, but no opening. I take my finger and use it as a laser cutter, slicing out portions of the wall until I have a square opening big enough to step through.

It opens up into a roof top. It's a beautiful day. The sun is out. Everything is clean. Deserted. I look down onto the empty streets below. I snap my fingers and people appear. Down below, their cellphones go off, chewing gum, laughing, signing each other, driving, eating, biking, unknowing. I want to believe they're real, that I can save them, have a meaningful interaction with one if I just greet with selective blindness, be the king of ants. But I can't swallow it. I snap my fingers again and they disappear.

I have to keep moving... Find something, anything, other than this horrible quiet, or the alternative- synthetic companionship. I jump from roof top to roof top, on and on for miles... The buildings slowly become more and more decayed, crumbling, wisteria growing through the old concrete and splitting it. I reach the last rooftop. I've reached the 'end'.

It's a white sand beach, with colorful shells scattered about, and then the ocean, all around. This is the land's end, the very end, and there is nothing else. I look around for someone else, some sign of life, evil, good- either, something other than just.... This. I can't stand how beautiful it is, the perfect waves, the flawless sand and sun, but my heart drained of all enthusiasm. The 'perfect day', unthinking, fills me with agony and isolation. I drop to my knees and thrust my hands out in frustration, reel back and start to scream at the sky. I want to eject this pain, vomit all of it out, be capable of feeling something besides 'empty', 'broken'.

My scream starts out as a human scream, faintly echoing back to me through the hollow corridors of the buildings behind me. I keep screaming, and the scream grows into an otherworldly roar, screeching into the perfect blue. The scream develops earthquakes, the sea shoots up around me in spikes of black water, jutting into the sky, which grows dark, and the wind begins to howl. The clouds and the waves, claw at each other, meeting in the air. Lightning snaps all around, dead sea creatures rise, cooked, to the surface. Cyclones form, hurling debris around me. The tide creeps up and fills all of the sea caves, swallows the buildings, swelling higher and higher, engulfing the land, then, crushing it in a fist of water and black ice. The sky has opened up into the sea, reaching into it, an enormous gaping maw.

I get a view of myself from within the mouth of the sky. A tight cylinder around my body upward, is the only space that is dry, a beacon of sand and light in the havoc. I'm on my knees, still screaming, long hair coiling and snapping like snakes around my head. The rest of me is frozen, fingers curled in agony and frustration, as the scream just rolls on and on out of my body. I'm trying to eject everything, purge it, but it just keeps going. I keep screaming hard and harder, waiting to 'run out' of pain, run out of the need to scream, but the pain doesn't go away. I'm trying to 'let out' something that's endless. The world is destroyed, but the pain goes on, never emptying. The cup continues to fountain and overflow.

This is pointless. I stop. The sky reforms, the tide sucks back into the sea, the sand dries, the buildings reappear, the sun peers back through the clouds. There isn't any trace of what just happened, anywhere in sight. No sight of the pain. It's hidden again. Perfect again. Quiet. It feels the same. I lay on my back in the sand, motionless, wishing my life, my dream, would make up its mind. Please start, or just be over with. This isn't living, and this isn't dreaming. It's over. It fades to black.