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Dream 1:

First we were at some theatre and there was a man on stage with a dragon that looked like it was made of clay and at the end of the shows it turned into a paper box kite, still in form of the dragon, but for some reason I thought it was a giant squid. Later in the dream I discovered it was real whilst walking through a plaza of Japan, but while it was in front of me, instead of a dragon it was a giant shrimp (but I still thought squid). Turns out the guy who owned the dragon/shrimp/squid was actually John Watson (Sherlock) who hated the theatre life and wanted to give up his sanity in order to die. I tried telling him not to, but he clicked a website link on a piece of paper (which was how he was giving up his sanity) and died.

Then we were on some kind of airport and heard a tiny 'clink' from a plane that was landing, apparently it crashed, but the plane was totally fine and everyone in it. There were two cars there, a YouTuber (Robbaz) who I watch took the children into his car to drive home safely and my friend from school was in the other car, waiting for me and my other friend to get in the car. Next we were driving out of Queensland which was also Hollywood, we drove past a hotel called the "Artery Hotel" which was an almost flat and tall building with an elevator in the middle and apparently I had stayed there.

Dream 2:

I was in some kind of video game, sometimes I was spectating and sometimes I was in it. A few friends of mine and I were running away from these monsters, one type looked like a shadow beast from Zelda: Twilight Princess:



except, it had a more tear dropped shielded face, only had weaves coming from the top and at the back like multiple tails, walked on all fours like a tiger and dripped some kind of goo. The second type had a seaweed like body, they usually had one, two or three and had circular heads with glowing white eyes. The third type looked like the first except it walked on two legs and was more muscular built. Soon I was spectating and Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) was running from them (I watched Sherlock before I went to bed that night). He was trying to be smart about the situation but ended up cornered by them and probably died because I woke up before it happened.

1. I’m at ‘home’, and Rane comes up to me and asks me if I need anything from the store. I think about how I need pure pumpkin and mini chocolate chips. I try to find something to write it down on. There are brown strips and white squares of paper, but they’re all written on already. I go to the bottom of the brown stack and find a folded one with nothing on it.

My handwriting is near child-like, with all-capitals. After I underline it, I see that instead of writing my name, I wrote “TAKEN”.

A young guy comes in to hear what I need. I think he’s too young to go on his own and to pay for it, so I take out my card, but he shows me that he already has one. He was a bit heavyset with short, blond/brown hair.

-Gap-

We’re walking through the store. As I look through my wallet for my card, I realize…it’s not there. I quickly grab my buggy and start speedwalking away. The guy calls out to me but I ignore him.

I wade through a bunch of people with kids and carts loaded with Christmas items – trees and presents, as apparently there’s a contest going on. Some of them are complaining about me but I just focus on getting out of the store.

I’m standing at the bottom looking up the steps. There’s an older man sitting there, and he starts telling me about how people don’t make their salads with lemon right anymore. Instead of replying verbally, I start typing up my response on a typewriter-like keyboard, but a regular screen. It’s something about how it all boils down to laziness. I notice two typos but struggle to fix them.

Suddenly, a woman standing on the left gives me a knowing look and says ‘you’re blind, aren’t you?’. I stare at her blankly for a moment, but then go along with it. She takes the ‘computer’ from me and points out my typos. As she works on it, I try to read it from where I am, and she says ‘you’re looking the wrong way’. Perhaps she assumes I’m trying to look in the direction of the man, who's talking. I look a bit to the right of her into the bright yellow sun, as seen coming out of trees and such.

-Gap-

I’m walking away from the store. I get a certain distance away before I stop in place, as if I had a thought, or waiting for something.

A man calls out to me that I forgot my purse. I look over my shoulder and see my old black purse sitting on the ground.

I’m looking for a vehicle to leave, but remember that I didn’t have one, I could leave by….I don’t remember.

Inspiration: I forgot my card a few weeks ago when we headed out to the store. Lemon is a trigger in a memory palace, as is Christmas trees and presents. I'd been thinking about pure pumpkin and mini chocolate chips for a few days because I needed them. I recently switched from a black purse I used for a long time to a new brown one.

2. Lying on a bed side by side with another girl. She gets something on her hand and points it out. We get up and see that there’s a light blood stain on the sheets under where I was lying. I deny that it’s from me, because I don’t have blood on me anywhere.

I’m wearing a dress with a built-in bra, but am still wearing one underneath it, and don’t take it off to sleep.

Inspiration: I'm thinking the 'Triad' dream sparked off a whole set of F/F dreams. XD

3. A shower is halfway full of water as I go to step in, and I see that there’s a floating pair of men’s underwear. As I carefully pick it up, I see that it’s stained. Wrinkling my nose, I put it on the side of the tub out of the way.

4. I remember a fragment where I was in a building and people were talking past. I waded into them to get to the wall, and carefully went around a wood section when the way was clear. I believe a guy came to help me.

The guy is crushing on me, it’s almost stalker level. He asks me to listen to a music CD he made.

-Gap-

I get into his bag and find the disc labeled 3&4 with notes under each section. I confess to him that I did it and that I loved the songs.

5. I’m sitting on my grandma’s porch talking to a man who’s sitting in a chair across from me. I say something about 'something being in my memory palace'.

“Whose memory palace?” The man replies, and as I go to answer “mine”, he points next to me. I look over to see Sherlock Holmes (BBC) sitting there.

Inspiration: Recently did an interview about my mind palace and mentioned Sherlock.

6. A diamond in my ring is missing, someone says they can fix it? I know there was more to this but my trigger probably wasn’t enough.

Notes:

I am really excited to try adding/accessing my memory palace while within a dream. Imagine how much easier it’d be to just add things from within a dream here and there, than to have to lay there and remember the dreams all at once. Only thing is with that I might not be able to note the time, unless I still wake up – I could add the time then.

Or what if I put stuff in my memory palace to access for when I’m in dreams? Like TotM, things to try, a storyline, character, etc that I want to incubate...

Had a dream that I was Irene Adler and played out the whole episode "a scandel in belgravia"

There were a few more twists, like I was actually a sidekick of sherlocks instead of just her character...

it was fun...

I'm going to watch sherlock when I get home :B

In this dream I was some sort of Sherlock Holmes like character, male student, affiliated with a university. This university would be closing, and with it the crimes investigation department, and I was calling and asking about to see who would be interested in accepting the past crimes archives and the network of informants who would allow one to continue to benefit in solving future crimes.

The local police department was not interested because they thought they already have all that. Ignorant fools!

A local newspaper could not handle this.

A rich millionaire was very interested, and I almost passed this to him, but then I realized in the last moment that he was a criminal mastermind.

I remember thinking that no one could be worthy of accepting this of course (I was pretty stuck up brilliant but full of myself), but I knew that it was better to find someone rather than for all this to go to waste and not be used by anyone.

I think I asked a few others in this dream, but don't remember. By the time I woke up, the search was still ongoing.

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

I was with two friends, a man and a woman. We were walking into something like a high school gymnasium which had been done up for a flea-market-type sale.

Just inside the heavy metal doors was an aisle of tables, running from the left to the right, and extending across the width of the gymnasium. The tables were all divided into booths, and were filled with people selling things.

It seemed like my friends and I had gotten to the flea-market sale pretty early. There weren't many other customers around. Some of the vendors may still have been arranging their booths.

My male friend split off from my female friend and I. My female friend was a black woman, short, a bit overweight. She had short hair arranged in little spikes or braid-like twists.

We walked toward the back, right corner of the aisle. My friend stopped and looked at some shirts. They were long-sleeved shirts, warm for the winter, in kind of flat green and cream-white. I may have fondled a square, paper tag that may have said something about how the shirts were made of hemp-cloth.

My friend now stopped at a booth with hats on it. She picked up a blue denim hat with a short, round brim. She put it on and asked me how she looked. I thought she looked pretty cool.

I thought I'd fool around and try on a hat as well. But my friend chose a hat for me. She said I'd look good in a cowboy hat. The hat she gave me was huge, almost like a caricature of a cowboy hat. But both sides of the brim were also pinned to the crown of the hat -- so the hat kind of looked like a hat-taco.

I put it on anyway and looked at myself in a mirror on the back wall of the booth. I thought I looked like a complete goofball.

I think at this part I started to hear voices in my head. They sounded like the voice of Sherlock Holmes. I may have been reasoning something out, as if I were Sherlock Holmes.

Suddenly I was in a room. I was one of three children. But I wasn't in the body of whichever child I was.

The children were actually more like young adults. They were probably in their late teens and early twenties. There were two boys and one girl.

One of the boys was Sherlock Holmes. The girl was a really pretty, fair-skinned girl with kind of slim eyes and long, pale-brown hair. The kids all had the style and attitude of kids from the late 1970s.

The kids were all up in one of their bedrooms, which was a kind of small room up on a second or third floor of a mansion. They'd each alternately pace lazily around the room or lay down on the bed, roll around on it, etc.

The kids were all speaking with each other. Sherlock Holmes still seemed to be reasoning something out with himself. The girl was at least teasing Sherlock Holmes, if not the other boy. All three kids were lazy -- and they knew it. But the girl took a little bit more pleasure in teasing the boys for being lazy.

The girl had to leave. Then the two boys were together. But then one of the boys had to leave. The other boy was by himself.

During this time the boy had transformed from Sherlock Holmes into Lewis Carroll. As Sherlock Holmes, the boy had been just a regular boy, or young man, from the 1970s. As Lewis Carroll, something about him changed. He actually took on more of a late nineteenth century appearance.

But the boy was still lazy. He may have known that the girl had gone off and found a job. And the other boy may have at least gone looking for a job as well. But Sherlock/Lewis was still just sitting up in his room.

Sherlock/Lewis was thinking of what kind of excuse he'd give his parents (with whom he was still living) for not yet having found a job.

He thought he'd make up something about being a writer and needing his time to write. In my mind's eye I saw a huge, yellow pencil laying across the bed with the boy. I thought the writer excuse kind of made sense. After all, if this was Lewis Carroll, he was really a great writer.

But then Sherlock/Lewis, looking out the window, started thinking about what his dad would say about him. I could hear his dad's voice in his head. Eventually the dad's speech took over the narrative.

The dad, who was like Bill Loud in the show An American Family, was narrating a letter that he'd written to his wife. His wife was out in some foreign country, maybe France, taking care of some business.

The dad wrote his wife that he'd gone to visit the daughter at either the location of her new job or at her college campus. Either way, the daughter was in a new town. But this was a town where the dad and mom had met and fallen in love. So the dad was happy to go back there.

There was a view of some part of a campus, I think, in this town. There were a lot of trees. But it was winter, and the trees were all leafless. The branches struck me as being very black.

The father wrote/narrated a very sentimental statement that began with him sighing, "Ah!, the memories..."

Now there was a strange view of painty-looking or animated-looking flowers, huge, five-petalled, yellow flowers, blossoming on the barren branches. The father made some kind of statement about the first experience of love between him and his wife, and how it was as delicate as trembling petals.

Dream #2

I was watching a documentary. There was a black and white photograph of two girls from a wealthy Italian family. The girls were sitting on the left rim of the pool for a big fountain, which was out on a gravel driveway leading up to the family's huge mansion.

The photo was really blotchy. It was apparently taken in the 1940s, though the girls seemed to me to look more like they were from the 1970s, or even the present.

The girls both had really long hair, which was very straight and plain. And the girls wore very short denim shorts, or denim coveralls with very short leggings. Both girls had a skinny look about them, though neither really was skinny. They both looked a little dull and overly spoiled.

The view now closed in on the girl sitting higher up on the rim. This girl was the older sister. A narrator now explained that the older sister had a disease, which had made her life very tragic.

As the narrator continued, the view now became active and in color. The view had shifted away from the fountain and onto the gravel driveway. It was the present. But things at this estate were pretty much the same as they had been in the 1940s.

There were a few old men standing out by some junk in the driveway. It looked like it may have been a ticket booth and some other equipment related to an old-time carnival.

The narrator's speech had continued. The narrator had explained that the girl had never been particularly pretty. But as she reached her seventeenth year, she'd begun to blossom into a more beautiful girl.

But at this time, the girl was suddenly struck by a disease which was like a cancer, eating away at her face. The disease was combatted once, and the girl was okay. But then the disease came back again and again, until a few years later, the girl's face was completely ravaged.

One of the men in the gravel driveway now walked over to the right side of the road. There was a big structure there. It was made of concrete, and it was as tall as the man. It was shaped like the plastic head of a baby doll. And I supposed that the face of this giant, concrete baby doll was turned away from me, so that I only saw the back of the head.

The back of the head, though, had a huge chunk smashed right out of its center. The chunk revealed , through a thick, ragged window of concrete-white, pebbly casing, the hollowness of the doll's head.

I assmumed that there was probably a similar smashing in on the front side of this gigantic baby doll's head. And I assumed that this head was a metaphor for the 1940s girl's head. I realized that this was what the disease had done to the woman.

Dream #3

Some anime. The main bad guy was a beautiful-man kind of figure: skinny, elegant, with long, purple hair. He was a very sinister kind of character.

But it turned out that the reason the bad guy had been causing all the trouble was because somebody had taken his favorite teddy bear away from him. He assumed the good guys had done it. So he was causing all kinds of trouble for them.

I thought this was a really disappointing reason for a bad guy to be bad. It cheapened the whole story. I couldn't even figure out why good guys would fight this bad guy at all.

I was driving in a large parking lot area with many people walking around. Almost like a parade. (This entire section is weirdly disjointed.) I remember there were police directing traffic and being worried I would get undue attention on account of driving a red car.

Adjacent to the parking lot there was a diner/hotel/bar building with a glass store front similar to an ice cream shop. In front of it, people were standing around. Kenan Thompson, a cast member from SNL was there dressed in a gray trench coat that looked dated. Vaguely like a Sherlock Holmes costume. I clearly remember thinking: "He is the kind of person I could actually be friends with."

I offered to give him a ride through the traffic/parade situation and he eagerly accepted. I went back to my car, looped around the entire active parking lot again, cops and all. When I got near to the building I didn't see him so I parked my car (which converted into the bike I rode when I was 14-years old) out front by leaning it against the storeroom window. I looked around for Kenan, and there was no sign of him.

I entered various areas lightly populated by workers. Near the far back end of the building was something like an old cheap looking dive bar/pub. I walked into the area, looked around, didn't see him among the old worn out looking patrons, turned around just in time to see Kenan downing a shot. I remembered him drinking earlier in the dream at this point. He looked sweaty and guilty. I asked him if he had been struggling with a drinking problem? He nodded awkwardly.

Note: I thought Kenan Thompson was hilarious in his first show All That and I do watch SNL (even though it's 95% horrible currently) - but I haven't given the man any serious or special thought whatsoever.

Weird fragments of dream, although I woke up during it due to a power cut...

A crime had been committed in my grandparents' house. Sherlock Holmes was investigating.
There was a weird happening every night in the conservatory. Everyone would sit in the dark, and everyone would feel like someone slapped them across the face, but when the light was turned on there was nothing.
In fact the guilty party was a dwarf. His weapon was a box which released a killer insect when you pressed the bottom in a special manner.