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I have a very mildly recurring type of dreams
its always about a train trip to somewhere
the first ones were ok, nothing really unusual
I saw some plains, steppes, it was nice

This time it was different
I was going to Vienna for some reason, some kind of event idk
but I didnt book at any hotel , so I thought I'll have to survive on the streets for like few days
anyways I got on
it turned into something like a rollercoaster but with trains
there were jumps and hoops sometimes
one particular case I remember was that the train went under a bridge
made a jump the an ollie, the whole train was gliding on the tracks sideways
then went back to normal
I was really scared for a moment
the train conductor didnt even flinch, like if that's a normal part of a train trip

March 29 2014

I am talking to my mom, in my room. I am standing with my legs
Even tough i cant walk in RL. I forgot what i was talking about with my
Mom. I kinda noticed that i could walk (not lucid yet). Then i looked at my hands but i just ingnored them. i look my hands again, i notice my fingers were changing every damn time. Then i went lucid, the dream is a little blurry. I just glare at my mom and walk out of the house. i shouted "increase lucidity" a few times then it was completly clear. Outside at the garden i noticed that there was a fountain instead of a dead tree. Then i walked to the road and looked around. in front of me there was a red house, there were a few cars on the road. I walked down the road and pointed my hand at a car then expected it to flip, it didnt flip tough. I ingnored the car. Suddenly i heard a shout. Someone: BEHIND YOU!!!! me: * looks behind* . Two kids were running, A BIG GODDAMN BLACK DOG was running at me. I looked at the side of the road, and i run fast and jumped in the air and i falled down and woke up.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
feelings- happy, joyful, scared
reality checks- looking at hands

this lucid dream came to me when i least expected it

I was a character designer working in a room with a long table with other people involved in the process. We are pitching ideas, though at this point we don't have an idea what the project is. I start doodling on a sketch, and it was to be a generic male lead of an adventure story to start. That's when the producer(?) says something like "no no... we need to go back to classic Alan Grant."

So now, my brain retcons things, and our project is designing Jurassic Park 4, and I'm supposed to decide the look Sam Neil's character is going to be. I free hand Alan Grant with a pen (Dream me is ridonkulously good at drawing, it looks like): He's flying side ways shooting a pair of pistols like he's in Hot Fuzz, and he's wearing his original outfit from the first Jurassic Park movie, only with bandoleers across his chest and holsters. His head is also over-sized, so it resembles one of those mall caricature kiosk drawings. The producer loves it (because he's a goddamned frat boy idiot, I guess). This dream fades.

Dream two had me in a government/military/agency building as some sort of mid-ranked officer(?), and I am feeling detached/disillusioned (at the time of this dream, I felt really disillusioned about my job as well). I'm in a classroom, and there are some college age students/cadets in there just hanging out.

My friend R, who is an actual teacher in Spain right now, comes in. He gives me a big bear hug (totally his M.O.) and kisses me on both cheeks, European style (this part I'm guessing he picked up from Spain). I ask him, "shouldn't you be in Spain?" and he says he's just visiting. I'm assuming this is my brain covering my tracks, and with more practice, I can pick up on these things more quickly. He sits in a desk near the corner of the room, on the opposite end of the wall sharing the door, and I sit next to him on the floor and lean against the wall.

We chat a bit, and the instructor appears. The room is suddenly filled with students. My friend T's younger sister, G, appears, and gives me a report -- apparently, there is a situation with whatever group it is that I am working for. But she also just settles down with R and me (so much for the situation) while the instructor lectures the class.

At one point, the instructor stops his lecture so he can call out Fat Neil (from Community). He seems agitated that Fat Neil is eating a tub of Tang! powder straight, and they have a brief exchange that's something like this:

"Do you know what that stuff is?!"

"Yes sir, it's just sugar and orange flavoring."

"Right. And it's not good for you. There's no vitamins."

At this point, the instructor confiscates the Tang! powder, and gives Fat Neil a tub of what I think it Protein Powder. Fat Neil resumes eating powder.

Suddenly, I realize that the walls are filled with gadgets and blinking likes, kind of like a supercomputer from out of a 60's Bond movie. The the dream got fuzzy before it fades.

(I really debated whether or not to record part three here; but it's so fucked up, I decided, eh, what the hell?)

Dream three is weird. I'm in a room, and I'm sitting in a chair. Sitting in a similar chair with me is someone that resembles my friend J, but it feels like it's a clone of her. We are just hanging out like we usually do, when suddenly she reaches into her purse and pulls out a device. She goes "check this out!" and puts said device to use. We continue chatting like normal, as if nothing happened, before I woke up.

For the people who are able to read between the lines, no, it was not one of those dreams; but I do find it uproariously funny because we have an ongoing "let's see who can gross out/make each other uncomfortable more" contest in real life, and a) this may be my trump card, and b) she has told me so many similar stories along those lines that after I woke up, my reaction was "Hmm. Yeah, that seems like something she'd do."

Also, nothing recorded for Nov. 5, and for Nov. 6, I can only vaguely recall that I was in the city, and I really wanted to help or save someone.

I'm watching Vitor Belfort and Alan Belcher fight in the UFC. Alan is getting the better of Vitor by rushing him and not letting him breath. Vitor weathers the storm and starts to turn the tide. Vitor looks like he is in the mount or the guard of Alan, and looks to knock Alan out cold. Vitor stops punching him out of respect but the ref tells him the fights not over and to continue.

I'm watching a car in 3rd person as if I'm playing a game. I'm racing through traffic. I make the car go on two wheels. I hear commentary of someone saying no fancy stuff for own safety. I keep 4 wheels on the ground, but the traffic starts to get busier and more challenging. The gaps are very tight, but I still seem to still get around them. I'm going around a corner that seems to go for 10 seconds, and decide to get on 2 wheels to make it easier for me to turn sharper.

This dream once again occurred this morning, 23 August 2012. It contained some brief moments of lucidity, and was interruped when I woke up around 6 am.

We begin in a university classroom, which for some reason looks very much like a classroom in a high school or elementary school. I'm sitting in for a social studies class, on the political history of the United States or something, and in contrast to my regular courses I don't find this interesting - I find it VERY interesting. Most of my friends in my program have already left. The teacher continues an explanation. By 11 am (or is it 1 pm?), I'll be beginning my first day in Physics class. My phone rings.

The person hanging out outside appears to be me, but I can't really identify with this person, so maybe it's my alter-ego. For sanity purposes, I'll refer to this individual in the first person.

I'm doing an extreme sports stunt on a bike, not a skateboard. The scene shifts toward somewhere else. Suddenly, the police catch us, and we're denied permission to enter my next class.

I don't want to go with the cops, I think. Yet my phone prompts me to, and I enter the principal's office.

Somewhere along the line, I'm walking in a hallway on campus in what seems to be a big environment building. I suddenly realize that I'm dreaming, and begin to look around at the walls, the windows, and the students.

I drift in and out of consciousness, of sleep. The waking-life version of myself seems to be paralyzed, so I drift back into sleep, with much effort. The scene changes.

I'm in the principal's office, and a thought drifts into my mind. I think of writing these things down, to publish certain things on Twitter when I wake up, with codes B, C, and D. The D code refers to detention, while the B code is something later on in the alphabet. The D code says to the teacher:

"Am I in detention, or am I free to go?"

This is something that I picked up from a video showing how to deal with the police. Rule number one is be calm and don't be crass.

I'm given a list of options, from life in prison to one day free to whatever else. The best option, they say, is Baptism.

The official looks rather puzzled and pauses for a moment, but after a while says that I'm free to go. I remember the buildings on campus, but I never make it to my physics class.

At home, it seems that my dad has lesions on his neck, which look like cancerous lips protrouding from the base of the chin. We go to the doctor, and then suddenly I'm in this waiting room.

I remember a TV commercial about healthcare options. Even though I know trhat I'm lucid, I think it would be wrong to change the scenery while I'm walking through that hallway again. So I walk up to the reporter at the receptionist desk:

"Hi, I'm looking for healthcare options for my dad".

The reporter, who seems to be African-Canadian, shakes his head.

Flashback - in a dark cave dismantling something to the next level.

The doctor finds that the lesions are cancerous, but traditional chemotherapy would have done more harm than good. A new emerging field in medicine, nutshot oncology, has proven that these lesions are treatable by other methods.

Have a nice glass of glastnost!

Jail or Baptism?

On YouTube, the number of likes are hidden, but it's wavering around 50%. A certain scene is depicted, and the likes rise above the half-point mark when we win, and fall below when we lose. It shifts in a gyroscopic circular manner, like the Moon around the Earth around the Sun, and then the Moon will be flung away, pulling Earth-Moon out of its orbit.

"But the Moon has been around for four billion years!"

In high school, I send some people an email with facial icons for each of their respective profiles. For some reason, the guys' images are larger. I tell him not to skip class.

In social studies class we talk about "nutshot porn". That's gross.

As I walk outside my residence room in the morning, it's chilly. Yet, for whatever reason, my sweater is wet and damp.

I wake up early to go swimming.

Inspired by 'America's Got Talent', one of my first dreams was about some wily buddies of mine doing an acrobatics stunt show. We were all in a matted red-floored arena. We were doing acrobatic butt-painting: not that we were painting butts, instead, we were painting WITH our butts.

It went like this: buddy number one would dip his butt in paint, and then do this super diving board stunt that would launch him hundreds of feet into the air. On the way down, he'd smack his painted butt onto a canvas and make a big ol' paint smear. Everybody would start cheering. All things considered, it was very impressive and clearly required some highly exacted and specialized skill. Go him.


Next thing I know, I'm in the mountains with my Dad, and we're hunting these cool birds that look like gray pigeon-parrots. I'm shooting a shotgun with dense rounds of bird shot. The gun is hard for me to handle at times, and at one point I get afraid of its weight and power in my hands and discharge it into the gray mist of the forest. Soon after, my Dad and I see one of the pigeon-parrots fly towards us with what seems to be a broken wing. We go to rescue it.

While standing next to the pigeon-parrots, the scene morphs, and Father and I are on a truck in a small mountain road. Some guys in the car next to us ask about the way to Camp Chawanakee, an old Boy Scout camp I used to go to every Summer.

I tromped on a small dirt path towards a small raised crest. My grandfather led the way and all around me were my sister and two cousins, Emma and Luke. We got to the small crest and looked down. Below us was a steep slope and then a beach of rocks. There was a bayou, or maybe it was a stream, running by it. This was the only accesible part of the beach, there were trees on the other parts.
Grandpa told us that Mayan indians used to live here, and that we could find many great artifacts here.
We have a place near his farm where we can pick up old Civil War and Indian objects from the ground.

We began to look all over the ground. I tried to pick out unusual things from the smooth stones and soon found an odd oval shaped, beige stone. it was about the size of my palm and it had a carving on it that made it resemble a closed fist. One finger pointed forward. I excitedly showed my Grandpa my find and he praised me for my good work. not too long later, Luke picked up an identical rock, but it seemed to be the other hand. That is, he found the left one and I found the right one. My grandpa excitedly picked up a spherical, cream colored stone. There were indentions for the eyes and mouth and a protrusion for the nose that made it resemble a human head. There was a headband on it and some sort of headdress carved in. He showed it to us all.

We began to search again, but then my grandpa shouted excitedly. We ran over to him. He was standing by a tree. on the tree, hanging, was a clay plate held up by a strip of leather. On it was a large indention, and around that were intricate designs. My grandpa carefully placed the head inside the indention. He decided to leave it there. i thought this was a good idea, as it seemed like it held some special purpose there.
Grandpa mentioned something about Grandma having dinner waiting, and we returned to her house.
My dream skipped forward. Somehow I knew i was at my grandmothers house, even though it wasn't.

I was in a huge arena, with green below and stands all around. The stands were a third of the way filled with my family. i was on a raised platform, high, high in the air. Directly below me were a bunch of red balls. It was my birthday. I was supposed to jump into the balls. They might have been bouncy balls, a puffy trampoline, balloons, or pillows. I was unable to tell from the distance I was at.
Somebody from my family climbed up to tell me something urgent. Emma was dangerously ill and she wanted to see me. i rushed down.
Skipped ahead

I was in a tiny room, about 12 feet by 6 feet. There was no such room in real life. There was a narrow bed and a large window. The bed seemed to double as a sitting swing. I stood by the bed and Emma lay there, talking to me. I laughed with her. She seemed fine, and it was time to go back home, anyway.
Skip to my lou, my dreamling.
We were in front of my grandmothers house, getting into our cars by the front gate. I was in third person view watching this, I seemed to be about 40 feet in the air, watching everything. We said our goodbyes.