I haven't posted on here in a while and I wanted to start again, even though I regularly say that. Anyways: The dream was about my family and I, along with some random girl, (not sure why) and we were at our home. While we were watching the news, we saw that the Mandarin from Iron Man 3 was about to launch a missile in our neighborhood. We were very scared so we decided to hide in the office. We got lucky enough to where it didn't hit us, though.
The dream was at this bus ride stop on my way home, we stopped at gas station like sheetz with other things going on at the stop. My view was watching this massive missile being launched but it fell off its hinges and myself and the people around me were like "wooooah" in the sense that the missile was just going to blow up and kill all of us but instead it produced a very small explosion around itself and we were safe. The view shifts to I'm swimming in water with an army and there's a rolling machine mechanism that we're supposed to go into but the person goes into it before me and fucks up so he drowns, my view shifts and I'm between these massive tan vehicles marching along and I'm afraid of being squished. The view is now I'm on top of this tall truck going around steep banked turns, it looks like we might be riding on top of trucks with stacks of potato bags and we're on top, I turn to somebody and comment that it's absurd we're not turning over, we get to a point where we stop and someone recognizes there's a cute cat but it's not paying attention and then another cute kitten appears that has it's tong sticking out.
Morning of May 1, 2020. Friday. Dream #: 19,492-02. Reading time (optimized): 1 min 30 sec. My dream’s foundation is a result of imaginary somatosensory modulation, but atypical. (I often cup my hand around a vertical bar of the head of our bed for this.) Ordinarily, I summon an egg to increase a dream’s illusory sense of touch (other than in a later rendering of a dream’s timeline when it is more often coins), the reason being that an egg is a perfect size to focus on the area of my palm and the underside of my fingers when I cup my hand. This type of modulation is usually in an indoor setting. However, in this instance, there is a precursory vestibular perception that results in the common sky-watching scenario, though in this case, it is seemingly in the late morning rather than before dawn. Over time, I see a flying saucer high in the sky. Many other people are around in a mostly featureless field. I focus on creating small rockets to blow up any spaceships. The exponential increase in my dream’s illusory sense of touch stems from the middle of a small rocket first materializing in my cupped right hand. The top and bottom of the miniature missile telescope from each side, coming into existence with minimal effort in my summoning the feature. It is partially reminiscent of a toy plastic rocket I had as a boy that comes apart in sections. I mentally cause the missile to ignite and leave my hand to destroy a flying saucer. Even though it is less than a foot long, I have a close view of when it reaches the spacecraft (as if looking through a virtual telescope). I enjoy the explosion (as I usually do in this mode of dreaming). Over time, as more spaceships appear, I indulge in the same activity, several times, enjoying my pointless entertainment. I experiment with different visualizations and anticipation of the results. At one point, I send my rocket to a feature with the resemblance of a rocket booster (similar to the rectangular aft skirts in some science-fiction movies). From there, the rocket goes inside the middle of the spacecraft to blow it up. I ordinarily only end up doing things like this when I lose interest in sustaining sleep for longer, concerning creating a new dream scenario.
Morning of December 5, 2017. Tuesday. I become aware of being in a scenario where a small nuclear missile is being carried on a vehicle that is apparently going west (based on my subliminal impression of how I am oriented while sleeping in our bed). I am somehow in charge of the situation and of the missile. It is only about five feet long. There are a few other (unknown) people with me. We approach a wide river that runs north to south. At this point, I start to become wary about being near a nuclear missile. My awareness and contemplation of the scenario is not realistic. I decide to throw the missile into a river, where there are additional unknown people near, and I know it may eventually go off, but I consider that I will have time to outrun it. Despite the size of the missile, I somehow fling it with one hand to the opposite side of the river. There is no explosion, but I expect one to come eventually. I and the others start running the opposite direction (east). I am aware of the minutes counting down. Although we are running across an outdoor landscape, there are identical low-set tables that we reach every twenty seconds or so. I suddenly have an infinite supply of decks of playing cards, whereby I then toss several cards to each side of me where there are always about three or four random unfamiliar males present to grab the cards. This has something to do with survival, as I am aware that some of the cards can be traded for food. This event repeats a number of times. Just prior to waking, I turn to see the mushroom cloud emerging from the horizon and realize that I am now safe and that about three minutes and twenty-seven seconds had passed from the time it landed in the river. This dream is a typical attempt at subliminal reinduction. The missile can otherwise be viewed as a flight symbol (RAS and inner ear dynamics relating to the waking prompt), though I throw it into the river as water symbolizes sleep (and potential dream state deepening and sustaining in this case; symbolism I have experienced on a day to day basis and understood for over fifty years). The playing card scenario is a bit odd, though it, along with the missile, likely relates to continuously hearing about the North Korea threat, almost as if it was like some sort of deranged poker game between two so-called leaders while the rest of the world looks on in passive bewilderment.
Updated 05-21-2018 at 04:32 AM by 1390
Morning of August 9, 2017. Wednesday. I become aware that I am babysitting an unfamiliar boy of about four years of age in the northeast area of the Cubitis living room. I perceive myself as being about twenty-five years old. It feels like it might be late morning. I have no associations with whomever the boy’s parents might be. The dreamer does not realize that he has not lived in Cubitis since 1978, leaving when he was seventeen. He also does not recall that he lived in Wisconsin when he was twenty-five, not Florida. The memory of his three sons (and two daughters) does not seem extant, though the presence of the unfamiliar boy, who does not resemble any of his sons, may be a subliminal clue, though he otherwise has no memory of who he presently really is. There is a huge Raggedy Ann doll sitting against the north wall near the northeast corner of the living room. I have a notion that the giant stuffed doll is somehow a mother figure for the boy. It almost reaches the ceiling. The head is unrealistically large in proportion to the rest of the doll. Time passes, and the head seems flatter (front to back) than it should be. The doll begins to sag and lean forward and the boy and I are annoyed that this oversized pie-like head may cover us. I have to push it back a few times, but when I do, the whole doll, especially the head, seems slightly thinner. The dreamer still does not have viable memory. He does not question why a giant doll would be perceived as a “real” mother by the boy or comfort him as such. He does not even consider simply moving out of the way of the doll when it leans forward at times. He does not consider why the doll’s head gets vertically flatter when there is no discernible reason for the change. Perhaps he is subliminally aware of the weight of the blanket on his real physical body as he sleeps, and perhaps through the veil of sleep, he indirectly recalls that his youngest daughter has stuffed toys near her as she sleeps. Could this hodgepodge of current neural energy while sleeping be why such a scene is rendered? He also did have concern that his youngest son had enough blankets prior to sleeping. As a doll symbolizes the physical inactivity of someone while in the dream state, it likely is a very distorted thread of memory of his beautiful wife Zsuzsanna, combined with thoughts of his pillow that sometimes seems too flat. Eventually, I notice that much of the oversized ragdoll is now more like a collection of blankets that fall forward at times, a couple that cover me, though I think the doll is still sitting there. It seems ambiguous, and the round face itself seems more and more like a large flat pillow I push back several times. It does not seem cold. I do not think that the boy will be harmed, only perhaps annoyed by being covered like this. After a few minutes, I am aware that Dennis (half-brother on my mother’s side) is coming into the house. He seems about thirty years old and is dressed like a biker. He wants to show me something. It seems the boy will be okay on his own, though I somehow perceive that Dennis has no interest in the boy’s well-being. I go with him for a short distance after leaving the house. I then decide to fly. Coming out from the house, it is now the King Street boarding house. I effortlessness fly north over Tenth Street South, leaving Dennis behind for now. The dreamer’s brother had not been to Florida since 1970. Like every other dream feature, it is erroneous, completely removed from any correct timeline. Even more curiously, he walked out from the north end of the open carport in Florida yet simultaneously from the closed porch of the King Street boarding house, not regarded in real life much since 1990 and over 1,500 miles away from the original setting. There is no measure of distance in thought, but that is moot, as the two buildings were somehow perceived as being the same. The dreamer often flies in his dreams as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do. To take to the air to get somewhere else is what he has done often for many years in both lucid and non-lucid dreams, without considering physics or gravity. There is no doubt, but the dream self is not the conscious self, and the rules that dictate that flying cannot be as such do not apply, even if there was some subliminal memory that it was not possible. I end up in some sort of forest on the other side of La Crosse, which I perceive may be several blocks west of Loomis Street. After walking around and entering a denser area of forest by way of a footpath, I notice that Dennis is already here. He talks to a seemingly homeless person in dark apparel. The unfamiliar scruffy male is sitting at the side of the path, facing outwards from the dense trees. Dennis seems annoyed and may be impatient about something. It has something to do with the other male not owning a motorcycle as he is expected to. There is no fighting, just a conversation. It seems the other male may have sold or lost his motorcycle and is now living in the woods. I walk around and see another clear footpath that leads straight through the densest part of the forest. It seems to be afternoon and the imagery is very clear and beautiful. The path leads east and seems to continue for quite a distance. I can see an open area at the very end that indicates an urban area. Still, after walking around, I decide to fly again. The dreamer does not question this fictional area of land. The area in real life would be within the same area as the Northside Elementary School (though the area looks much different now than when he last lived there in February 1994). He does not ask himself how Dennis apparently walked there and got there before him. As I am flying, my focus changes somewhat. I see below me, something that is almost like a life-sized map, showing how the area originally appeared. It was mostly a marshy expanse with no trees for a long time. This changes, as Dennis had planted a number of saplings over time, until it was a dense forest. Curiously, I am aware that no one else, including members of the city council, ever noticed this change other than Dennis and a few biker friends of his. I watch the changes in the map as I turn and fly south. Looking down on a slowly animated life-sized map superimposed over the bird’s-eye view of the land below does not seem unusual to the dreamer. It is like a visual historical view displaying the changes over time, not following the rules of real-life perception. He does not fly back down to investigate or consider that if he did, he might be in the original treeless marsh as it supposedly was years previously. I am now aware that it is nighttime even though it had been afternoon moments before. I do not find the change unusual. I am aware of a missile lighting up a small area of the sky to the north, over what I perceive may be a small island, but I still consider it as a threat even though it seems far away. My wife Zsuzsanna now joins me as we run southward. The buildings around us start to shake. They seem to wobble and waver unrealistically, somewhat like exaggerated jelly motions. I think we can escape. We run over the tops of buildings, over the roofs of commercial buildings of various heights, no attention to how tall they are. It seems effortless but annoying. I get the idea to take cover in a boiler room of a commercial building. I sense the ceiling may collapse, but it does not, though there is still shaking. We end up near a breaker panel. I have a fading idea about possibly resetting the main breaker, as if that might somehow make the building more suitable to hide in. The dreamer’s memory seems more viable now as he recalls Zsuzsanna. There is even a thread of recent memory about North Korea’s missile launches, but little else. His focus on the breaker panel reveals a subliminal awareness of the neural energy within his mind, yet not fully realizing why this thought emerges in the last seconds of his dream or whether it symbolizes “deactivating” his dream, increasing his neural energy and expansion into whole consciousness, or both.
As told today on irc: [19:12:51] <gab|Away> oh, just gonna say, took a nap and escaped nuclear death coz had to pee [19:13:08] <gab|Away> lol that woke me up, as Iran launched missels at us [19:13:53] <gab|Away> I was like oh, they fired, I gotta pee, but if I go Ill miss seeing them hit, but also Ill proly be ded by then, so meeh Was cool. I know we did something and we expected retaliation. I was in a highrise building, at daytime, by the large window, looking way to the left, very far in the distance. I think I saw to the other continent, haha. So suddenly I see this small light streaking to the skies, with tail of smoke trailing behind it. Then another one. I wanted to follow them with my eyes, but lost them in the clouds, or they were just too small to see. Then I felt like I have to go potty, and I had a dilemma. If I go, I will not see them hit. But I also knew that they targeted us, haha, so ... lol. Then I woke up and had to pee.
Morning of April 5, 2017. Wednesday. I am in an unfamiliar setting; a mostly featureless room that seems somewhat like a basement; that is implied to be either another world or an area near a portal where things can be pushed through to another location by teleportation. There is one other male present but I do most of the work. (The work I do in my dream is so physically realistic, my muscles feel tired upon waking and remain so.) Firstly, I put a large wrapped ham on a square wooden table. There is a very large cardboard box, as high as my waist and about as wide as a doorway (and slightly wider than the table). We fill it with oranges in several stages. In the last stage, when I pour the last of the oranges in, they form an unlikely conical shape higher than the box height. However, I push them about so that they are soon even with the top, some of them falling into spaces near the corners. The event is otherwise very vivid and realistic, especially in touch and motion. I am somewhat worried about what a challenge it might be to get the table and box (which are moved at the same time, the table in front while pushing the box) through the doorway portal. I somehow push them up a short flight of steps and through a doorway (though not the portal). After pushing them through a featureless room with a very vivid sense of physical effort, I learn that the destination is not nearly as far away, or as difficult to get to, as I first believed. The other male informs me that the doorway we need is just ahead (even though I had thought I might have to go through several other doorways and bigger flights of steps or even into a different building). I soon am able to push the table and box full of oranges through a doorway into an unfamiliar classroom. It appears to be high school. The humanitarian work that the other male and I had done is known by at least a couple of the students and the unfamiliar male teacher and briefly discussed. I feel good about having done such a task. Soon however, an unfamliar male student starts talking and asking the teacher questions about weapons of war, mentioning something about a missile. This annoys me somewhat and it seems like they are not really focused at all on what the other male and I had done. I do not say anything and soon wake.
I was in a field. Robots? I was riding a jeep. Or a train. The wire of the train got tied to a tree. Someone took it out. A robot? There was missile test. They used a real airplane and let it fly and... do acrobatics. The missile chased it but didn't reach it before the plane hit the ground. I told someone that they programmed it wrong. The missiles should intercept the plane, not follow its path. I was in downtown Bacolod. I checked a store. There was second floor. Zumba or yoga?
I watch a plane crash on the television as part of a breaking news story. The last part of the clip before they cut it shows the plane flying away from the crash site. It doesn't make sense to me, so I re-play the scene in slow motion. This time, the second plane is a missile. Both are in fact missiles. Nuclear missiles. I get on my computer and try to find the exact town in England where the crash happened, but can't find it. Just a bunch of English towns. Finally, I spot the wreckage. As soon as I see the wreckage, I'm on a bus that's headed right to the crash site. My mom is on the bus, as well as my good friends. Up ahead is an unexpected building, billowing with thick gray smoke. Just pumping smoke out the top of it like it is manufacturing something. Our bus stops at a gate just before this building and a bunch of men with guns board our bus speaking a combo German/Italian language that I can't understand. Through their non-verbal cues, I understand that they must search our bus and everyone on it before they let us go on our way. One of the men searches me, but gets upset when he sees that I'm wearing a belt. He passes me to the next guy who also finds nothing hidden. Even more upset than the first guy, he picks me up by my shoulders, and shakes me vigorously as if to get any pills to fall out my ass if I were a drug mule. Fortunately (for many reasons) there is nothing. They finally let us all go. I sit down back in my seat, cautious not to draw any unwanted attention to myself. I see my high school sweet heart in the seat right in front of mine and we smile at each other. Then I see several layers of cloth all stacked on top of one another. The cloth itself begins to speak, telling me, "There are many ways to love a woman." Then the pile of stacked cloth lays completely flat on the bus seat, melting into it. Seems like good advice I suppose... Looking out the window, I watch as we pass the building from earlier. It is a power plant that burns some sort of smoky fuel, powering the entire town around it. Set up like some post-apocalyptic utopia, the buildings are all caddywhompus, but well maintained McGuiver style. The bus stops abruptly in the center of the town, and everyone is forced off of it. I am taken to the front of a tank column and strapped to the front of it as a human shield for the point tank. Definitely not a safe place to be in general, let alone for what I fear is about to happen. Meat shields make me sad, but I'm happy that it's me and not someone else. Completely bound, I tensely watch from the front row of the action as a group of fighters (who I assume are on my side) ambush the tanks. The whole ridge above us seems to have come alive with machine gun fire and anti-tank rockets. Sadly, they are all killed by the tank fire and .50 Cal machine guns. Due to all the rough driving, my bindings come loose toward the end of the fray and I make my get away, running as fast as I can before they notice. I dart into the first building I come across and hide up in the attic. I get the feeling that ninja-assassins have seen me hide in here, and are on their way sneaking inside. I have to do something to prepare myself. I magically find in my hand a plastic spray bottle with an enchanted liquid inside that causes whoever is sprayed in the eyes to face their biggest fear. I test it on a nearby cat, who goes completely wide eyed, and then rigid for a few moments before moving again. The cat seemed to enjoy this, and now is like my minion. I direct it to the far corner of the room to help warn me of anyone approaching. Another cat walks right up to my face and looks at me like it too wants to get the fear spray. I spray it in the face once, and it reacts just like the first. Before I decide what to do with it, a third cat approaches and I do the same. I send one of the cats down the attic stairs to investigate, amazed that the cats are voluntarily helping me through our unusual connection via the fear spray. I am about to spray myself in the face with it, but before I do, I hear someone downstairs. Sneaking down the ladder, there are no lights on anywhere, just a mysterious blue glow. I step on the floor and it is really wet. A creepy woman's voice whispers directly into my ear, "The true test is how well you can step quietly through a puddle of blood" Quite a sadistic test, especially since she could've just killed me right there instead of toying with me like this. I see now that the entire floor is flooded with about a quarter an inch deep of blood. I get a quick mental flash back of this same woman killing a bunch of soldiers in this room using knives and dodging their bullets, and then draining their blood everywhere. Thinking about her challenge, my feet change from wearing shoes, to slippers, back to shoes, and then to socks before settling on barefoot as I consider how to stay quietest. Barefoot it is then... The cold, sticky blood is really creepy, and not more than a few steps in, the sticky noises give me away. She lunges at me, trying to bite my throat in half. I get a clear look at her face for the first time, it resembles a zombie face, with dark red slime and nastiness all around her mouth, crazy demonic eyes, and greasy straight black hair. I push against her chest and stomach to hold her back and get knocked on my back over some furniture. She jumps at me, using her teeth as her main weapon as I struggle to keep her off me. Pushing against her stomach, it turns into a dark empty void like space, but darker somehow. From this void, a second pair of arms reach out to fight me. Struggling with these, I kick at her, only to find another portal open up at her waist from which a second pair of legs come through kicking at me. There is blood everywhere, and she just doubled her limbs while trying to bite me to death. This fact sinks in a bit and I wake up.
I really had the cards stacked for a lucid last night. Went to bed at 9:30, attempted 3 WBTBs, all of them failures, and lets not forget the brute force autosuggestion. I can recall some dream where I in photoshop was retouching a photo of some beautiful woman standing on the beach at sunset. I can recall that there had been a house developed in the soccer feild by the middle school. I later discovered that, In fact there were a couple of small buildings homes connected by a dirt path. I was walking around them looking for my bike or something. I thought that the houses were abandoned, or waiting to be bought, but I eventually I found that there was a big group of people having a party inside one of the houses. A few of them came outside and nagged me about being on their property. But by far the best of what I can recall was a dream about a post-apocalyptic world. Me, A and some of my other friends were a part of a mech fighting corps. In this corps, there were squads of 5-10 pilots. Missions were often very difficult so an entire squad was needed. Also, every squad had a matching emblem and a unique coloration to their squad. Our squad, I think had a skull and crossbones emblem, and we all used an ice-blue digital camo best suited to missions in arctic. In fact, I think our squad had a reputation for our effectiveness in tundra and arctic missions. We geared up for our mission in a huge hangar bay. My mech was actually out for repairs, after having taken heavy damage on our last mission. A was injured and unable to pilot his. so I had to pilot A's mech. Our squad was deployed to a foggy mountain valley area, and from what I can recall it was only me and S, piloting his own mech. S was also the commander of our squad. I think that our last mission had involved heavy losses on the part of the squad, many of our members had been killed and/or had their mechs destroyed. But the nation we were working for was deploying the two of us out of desperation. I can recall our mechs walked for some time. A's mech that I was piloting was a medium weight design that could 'run'. It had huge missile racks on either side and two machine guns for back up. I can recall the machine guns were designed for long missions and had a large ammo stockades mounted on them. I was grumbling a little about the design choices in his mech, having been more used to my own custom design. We arrived at the rendezvous point. My view went into a 3rd person chase cam, like I was playing a video game. We were in a mountainous region with huge boulders and steep cliffs creating a maze of passages. There were rivers in the canyons, but they were shallow enough that our mechs could easily traverse them. It was foggy and visibility was low. Our mission is to defend a vital communication outpost from enemy forces. The outpost is a huge satellite dish based atop one of the mountains. There is also a large derelict concrete pyramid that used to function as a base and and had room for a single mech inside. I had 'flashbacks' to the early days of the war. Before entire squads of mechs were common. I had been one of the very first pilots, and I had been stationed at that pyramid structure. S went inside of it and explained that the concrete channeled his radar and he would be able to easily pick up incoming enemies. "You got two scouts coming from the east!" "We just got here!" I turn. The enemy has very simplistic mechs. I get the feeling their technology must not be as advanced as ours. I open fire, testing the weapon systems on A's mech. I make a note that the rocket pods do not carry much ammunition. Their armor sucks too, I tear them both apart with a few good hits. S calls out more enemies coming from another direction. I turn and see what I 'remember' being called accelerator tanks. They are large four wheeled vechiles with their wheels on long struts that can bend and compress thanks to springs and joints. They are designed to go fast, even in rugged environments like this. They do not however have very powerful weapons or thick armor. I dispatch them rather easily as well. S calls out more enemies. I turn back the way the first group came and see both enemy mechs and more accelerator tanks. I unleash a hail of missiles thinking this is their main force and take them down just as they come over a nearby hill. "Uh... we've got a problem..." I turn and look. Cresting a hill nearby are about three dozen enemy mechs and several more accelerator tanks. They open fire. I run behind the pyramid and S backs out of the hangar bay. His mech has some type of mortar weapon. Using the pyramid for cover, we are able to hold our own. The enemy is advancing on us, but just as it looks like we are about to turn the tide, there is a blinding flash of light and a huge explosion, knocking my mech over. I turn to see where S's mech once stood there is now just a pair of mechanical legs with burning stump atop them. A glowing plasma trail highlights the air. I follow it to see an advanced enemy mech, a huge six legged beast, painted all black with a massive rail gun mounted on top. My mech gets up and the rail gun resets and prepares to kill me. I'm already pinned by the enemy squad we were fighting, and am pretty much doomed to die by the hands of this enemy. Just as he is about to fire, an artillery round strikes him, causing him to miss. An allied squad of 8 or 9 custom mechs from our nation enters the fray. This squad has a red and orange camo and uses a yellow falcon with a gun in it's talons as their emblem. This is another squad, one that I 'remembered' being very famous. The commander of the comes on the radio, who I think was a female, and asks if I could use a hand with these guys. Of course, I say yes. What followed was a full on battle. Now I'll admit that the dream up until this point was pretty cool. But a 10v100 battle in ten story combat mechs. What could be cooler?! The battle was insane, and this red squadron is really good. Some of their mechs have these advanced laser weapons that are cleaving the enemy mechs in half and cutting their legs off and such. I am more than holding my own though, using the machine guns to take out as many as I can. I think I may have started to get too overly excited after awhile. I can remember the dream fading out to a chaotic crossfire of machine guns, rockets and lasers.
Updated 09-06-2014 at 02:05 PM by 53527
I was in Venezuela, which looked crowded and dirty. I walked into a store where a lot of people were talking about soccer. I was looking for an Italy jersey, which they didn't have. I walked away and talked to a girl I recognized and asked something about something or something. She was being sort of rude so I left. The scene changed and I was playing Child of Light with Ignicus unlocking some things. Instead of Aurora, it was a boy and he was flying. An angel came up to him saying something about helping him in his dream. She told him he helped him destroy a meteor with a missile or something. The missile, controlled by the boy, passed a bird, a plane, and when it finally hit the meteor, it destroyed it, along with some houses. ---------------------------------------------- I was swimming in some sort of lake with a girl. The lake was surrounded by green mountains and we came up on a few waterfalls. I gladly jumped down the waterfalls and when I did, the force caused me to go under and I would see corals and reefs. I kept swimming and emerged on a pool, where I showed my mom something I grabbed. She told me to go show it to my grandma and I went to look for her.
Last night, I had a dream that didn't really make sense: Apparently, in the dream, a fan that is painted the color red can cause someone to pass out or something. So then this "war" started between me (with some friends of mine) and some other team or something. I don't really know. Anyway, a "war" took place. They attempted to raid us a few times, and we attempted to raid them a few times. I don't remember how exactly the raids worked, but I'm pretty sure that they involved the red fans. After a few raids, things turn a bit different. The dream suddenly turns into some weird form of the Civ Stage in Spore. Their "base" is a bit more detailed in this part. It looks like a small restaurant that sells burgers. Anyway, my friend launches an ICBM that destroys their restaurant thing and then the war is over. Then I woke up.
Dream 1(fragment): There was something about robots. Dream 2(fragment): I was in some sort of hilly area and there was a castle. Dream 3(fragment): I was playing AI War and having fun and someone was suggesting me to use some kind of anti-sleep missile warheads.
Me, my mom, my grandma, my sister, and my uncle are at what looks like a park, but the atmosphere is smoggy. We're standing under those metal covers things over the tables where people can eat. I notice my mom and grandma start freaking out. I look out to see what it is that's is frightening them. In the sky is what at first I think is maybe a firework, but my mom and grandma says it's a missile. And it is. It's a long white missile, but in the sky it is too close, and it is cracked and red and orange light and fire is comeing out if it, it must've messed up and went of in the air. The smoke from it is already trailing at us. The missile is slowly going around us, and I feel it will soon fall and crash directly where we are and as I think that it changes course and slowly starts falling in our direction. We contemplate if the metal structure is enough safety, it surely isn't so I motion to the group of buildings behind us. We start to run, and the children I pass I warn them and they panic too and also run towards the buildings. When we get into the building I only see my grandma and uncle with me, I panic and ask grandma where is my mom and sister, she says that they decided it would be better to go home, I start freaking, for some reason I think our house isn't safe from the missile & we shouldn't have split up. Two girls interrupt and point us to the right where the walls are cement and it leads to an underground parking garage. That seems pretty safe to us so we follow them. When we enter I notice these two bulletproof glass sound booths, me my uncle and grandma run into one and lock the door. We feel pretty safe, but I'm wigging out about my sister and mom. My uncle starts digging through this emergency kit that was in the booth, he pulls out this blueish gray object, he's tells me to calm down with a weird smile on his face, then I realize what the thing in his hand if for, its a spring loaded shot that forces someone to calm down against there will. I tell him not to do it, but he just says I need to calm down then he chases me around the booth and shoots the thing into me on my right shoulder, then I instantly fall to the ground on my stomach and my body feels heavy and paralyzed, and all I can do is cry like a three year old, so I do, almost like I have to. My grandma just sat there and didn't pay attention to the while thing. It lasts for awhile, when It wears off I get up slowly, and admittedly now calm. Then my grandma gets an urgent phone call from my mom, she put it on speaker so we can hear. My mom say something like "Please, I need help, let manneul in". We sit there confused for a bit, at first I thought they were hurt from the missile, but I put together that my dad got to them and is holding them hostage and forced her to say that on the phone so he could get me also & kill my family. I wonder if he hurt my mom and sister. I hear whistling coming from outside, I tell my uncle & grandma to wait behind while I check, I ran back to the door that leads outside, and when I look out I see my dad wearing the blackest clothes I'd ever seen with a hood, when I see him I split and run back, I shut a door that leads to the car garage so he wont be able to know where we are, but the door keeps bouncing open and closed because I touched it but there's no time so I run to the booth to warn my grandma, I can still here the door bouncing and leading him to us. I get into the booth and lock it. Then my dad walks in and comes up to the glass, I can't believe it but my uncle unlocks the door & runs and leaves me and my grandma and now my dad gets in the booth.Then I woke up
Updated 01-05-2014 at 08:46 PM by 61831
Good morning, everybody. Sorry I haven't been around in a while. My waking life kind of toppled over for a bit. But I think I'm getting back to normal. Dream #1 I was talking with my psychiatrist. She looked kind of weird, like her eyes were close together and really tiny, but wide open, like she was shocked. Her hair was also very pale, almost dirty blonde. I was telling my psychiatrist about some experience I'd had, which had seemed to me to be bilocation. I may have remembered something about one version of myself standing near a missile that lay on the ground, while the other version of myself was somewhere else. My psychiatrist told me that she remembered the events surrounding the date on which I'd had this experience. She said that we had been making good progress in our sessions. She said that on that particular day, she'd touched on something sensitive in my life. So, my psychiatrist said, it was pretty natural that I'd have some kind of weird experience. It was a reaction, a resistance, against the sensitived issue that my psychiatrist had brought up. I'd probably also felt like my experience was bilocation for a reason -- something to do with the sensitive issue.
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