Thread: Fei's

15th Aug night

I deliberately tried lucid dreaming for the first time last night. The first seven hours of sleep yielded one long, low-lucidity-level dream. The last hour yielded several dreams, each began and terminated at my conscious involvement. I suffer serious myopia and don't wear glasses or contacts, a fact I account for the indistinction and lack of landscape details of my dreams. (Maybe the indistinction just came from not believing myself able to see in distinct.)

The first dream began non-lucid. I was an agent of some very anthropic aliens. I might be an alien but I never paid any thought to the possibility. I was in a UFO arguing with an alien lady. We were to invade a city by an active vocano. The alien lady was very aggressive and yelled with a high-pitched voice. She asigned me to blast open the vocano and set loose the lava into the city. I argued that the human could throw bricks in the lava to stop its flow but my superior didn't listen to me. I shrugged and thought, fine, you shall see for yourself, and went away.

I was not clear where I was in the next scene. It seemed I was looking down at the city and vocano from the air but I was not aware of my body nor whether I was flying. The vocano looked like a water basin of obsidian holding lava. I thought, the basin is going to break. And it broke in one corner, lava pouring to the city. My 'camera' zoomed in to follow the lava flow. I saw, in close range, a dozen of humans throwing bricks into the lava. When as much bricks were in as much lava, the liquid phase of stone solidified. I thought, wow, the specific heat capacity of the bricks is even higher than my estimation! at the same time was very pleased with myself for outwitting my superior the alien lady.

At this point I was back in the UFO presenting my argument. The alien lady was (again) not convinced and sent me on the same mission. Again I looked at the undemolished vocano, again it broke, and again the humans extinguished the lava flow with a smaller quantity of bricks. I thought, the bricks are more efficient than my impression last time! then it all came back to me arguing with the alien lady (yet again). The same scene repeated itself except this time the humans needed fewer than ten bricks to freeze all the lava.

The humans walked on the frozen lava, matched into the vocano and triumphed over the aliens. I was matching with them. They looked like revolutionary students, violent, strict, tense and narrow-minded. They were performing some rituals that made absolutely no sense, and they compelled me to do the same! I ran away. This is when I became dimly aware about dreaming but the fact didn't seem to concern me. I ran to a cliff by a narrow chasm. There are revolutionary students all over, standing in grids, led by revolutionary teachers. They were doing a ritual involving peering down the chasm. The chasm seemed bottomless. One student refused to look down the cliff, he claimed he is batophobic. A female teacher urged him to do it despite his anxiety. He argued back while performing acrobatic movements on either cliffs of the chasm, his movements precise, his eyes level. I was anxious for him before I noticed he balanced on three legs. It failed to strike me as odd. (Neither did my lucidity alert me that I was in no danger in a dream to peer into my chasm. My own fear stayed my eyes.) Instead, I support the student in his argument against his teacher. The teacher yelled at me, 'I gave you such good grades and you betray me?' This is when I fully understood my dreaming condition as no waking person talks like that. (But it was hours before I picked up the teacher's resenblance, in appearance and voice, to the alien lady.)

A male voice shouted at me from behind. I was irritated and I knew I could control everything. I got (subconsciously materialised) a brick and threw at him. I heard the brick struck him. I began to reason how he would bleed, when too much conscious thoughts sank in and the scene dimmed.

I tried spinning, which didn't work. In the subsequent waking moments I noted how my dreaming and waking personalities differed. I am curious, logic and calculating. My dream self was emotional, caring, dependent, very dumb and had lots of social needs. The wonders in the above dream will never fail entrance my waking self. I would examine the UFO and aliens and obsidian and lava and city layout and humans in minute details, while my dream self passed them on in total indifference and ignorance.

I slept again. I was able to notice my dreaming state whenever I was found thinking in that strange emotional way. Lucidity began in following dreams almost as soon as the dreams themselves. The same condition tended to terminate the dreams however, why they are so short.

I was by a grassy hill. Knowing my power I set fire on it. I was dissapointed that the fire didn't live long and my dreaming self, unlike me, could not appreciate the beauty of fire. Indeed, he felt sad to see the burnt-down remains.

I remembered a line in lucidity.com FAQ about sex. I thought, OK, and transformed a nondescript tree into the naked, red-head, short-haired girl in the movie Brazil. We had sex. My clothes didn't matter as I simply 'forgot' them, making myself as naked. I wasn't over-excited and got bored after a few seconds. I knew how to do it and definitely had done it before, though might not as deliberately.

I was waking down a city lane. Parked cars were at either side and my dad was muttering to me a continuous stream of gibberish. I became irritated and incinerated the street. Cars and my dad all burned to cinder. I felt glad to be free from his bother.

In this last dream my lucidity level was low. I was in a general apartment with several relatives. My aunt was talking about a concept (which I forgot). A little girl heard the concept and ran away and I followed her. She found in a bedroom an old woman, the mother of my aunt-in-law, and told her the concept, twisting the truth just a little. I recounted the true concept to the old woman but she repeated to me the false one. I got furious and fought her. She was surprisingly strong and our arms locked. Then I thought about my dreaming state and broke her arm (ulna and radius, to be specific), when everything faded.

P. S. I just realised I didn't use reality check at all.

16 Aug

250 ml milk, yoga dead man pose and mind blank before sleep.
Bad dream quality. No milk. Chocolate tonight.

1. standard. lucid.
A bride and groom stood beside a naturalistic tomb grinning at me. The tomb looked like a partially grass-covered hill, as high as two men. I knew it to be a tomb beyond a doubt. The clothing of the bride and groom was practical and consisted of different shades of grey and brown. The groom was wearing glasses too big for his face, giving him a Bill-Gates look. I looked at my hands. They are cartoonish blue. I did noticed the silvery, semiautomatic handgun in my right hand. I thought, what the hell, and shot the groom in the face. His glasses were shattered and blood-smeared. The bride giggled on. I thought, it was time for the bride to scream. She screamed at me, hands at her cheeks.

I was pleased and shot her too in the face.

2. play/story.
I was not an entity in this dream. It was as if I was presented a play or told a fable. I knew I was dreaming several times and tried to look at my hands, to find I had none and the dream slipping. So I let go to have the dream back. It worked (placebo effect, no?) to the point I forgot about lucidity later through the dream.

General featureless room. Grey walls and ceiling and floor.

Entered one female dark elf and one male dark elf. They were in simple, practical clothing of a lighter shade of grey than their skin. The male carried a blade on his belt and the female a whip in her right hand.

Entered two humans. Both in elaborate yellow dress with a horizontal kidney shaped orange patch stitched on the bosom, in the orientation of a smile.

Narrator (disembodied voice): sometimes the strong-willed perish and the subdued prevail.

The male dark elf walked to one human. The human was willful. The dark elf slashed her in halves in one bladestroke.

Exited male dark elf and the human corpse.

I (disembodied voice, to the other human): sometimes the strong willed perish and the subdued prevail.
Human: I will be subdued.

The female dark elf came to the human. The human fell on both knees, smiling.

Exited knelt human.

The female dark elf knelt one knee and prayed to a male god. I forgot the exact wording of her prayer but it was very flattering. She thanked the god for giving the weak a way to live in meekness, the way they were supposed to live, and the strong the formulae to dominate the weak the way they were supposed to be dominated.

I noted these dream personalitites not to think in a much different way from my waking self except in IQ. (Theirs are much lower.)

3. cartoon. non-lucid.
Again I was casted as a disembodied voice and this time I was totally unaware. I was watching a cartoon with someone, also disembodied, whom I knew had no taste for sardism. I was self-conscious s/he might get offended by the cartoon. I saw no audience room. My attention was focused on the cartoon.

It depicted a dark elf female whipping a human male. The human male had long hair and looked like the vampire design in the game Heroes V.

He had a noose round his neck.

The whipping left no mark on his clothes, which were a dirt yellow jacket and jeans. The man were propelled hither and thither round the pole, his face painful whenever he reached the extremes of motions where the noose closed around his neck. He wore a sardonic smirk the rest of the time.

The last five whipstrokes slashed open his jacket and left marks on his back. It was an imperfect pentagram. The arrows mark the sequence of strokes.


There was a closing scene of a portrait of a guy looked like a missle. I can't draw it.

17 Aug

47 grams chocolate before sleep. Knew that I would have realistic, vivid dreams. Knew that I would know they are dreams and write them down. Knew that I would wake up halfway through the night to eat more chocolate.

A few snapshots before waking. All of them forgotten. 47g more chocolates. Knew that I would have realistic, vivid dreams. Knew that I will know they are dreams and write them down.

...and so I had a few realistic, vivid, short dreams. Tonight I will know to have long ones.

1. I was on an appointment with Dr X. X is his initial, his name is Xeno- something or stuff like that. He was explaining my condition but I didn't catch it. Then he gave me a dark pink plastic board with a paper clapped on it. He said, 'Some of your dreams, for some reason, are inactivated. This is the list of the types of your inactive dreams.' I read the list. My consciousness didn't understand a thing but it felt my dream self is extremely bright. I noted the red crosses before each line and changed all of them to gree ticks with my fingers. I saw my hands; I had a big gold ring on my right ring finger. The ring has a large red crystal set on it. I didn't think it was a marriage ring.

2. I was a young woman sitting on a barstool, my arms folded on the bar. Bright sunlight illuminated the room. The barstools, the bar and the walls are all off-white and had a woody texture. I saw no window. Two seats to my right was a young man in grey suit, his right elbow on the bar. He was talking gibberish. I thought I must be dreaming. So I asked him, 'What are you talking about?' He said, 'You see, it's just' followed by more gibberish. I slid off the stool and walked into the street. The young man disappeared, so did the bar, and two seconds later the street.

A long pause.

3. I was casted as the same young woman and I knew I was a witch. I wore an off-white short-sleeve sailor-collar buttonless blouse and an off-white slipless long skirt. I was walking to a crossroad. The road was paved by stones rather than cement or pitch. Black, elegant victorian lamp lined the road. The buildings are victorian, multi-floored, multi-coloured and of similar heights. There were no vesicles or pedestrians in sight. I didn't pay much attention to the surroundings, however, as I had a spellbook in my hands. Its cover was rough, worn brown leather. I saw my hands. They are bejewelled by eight different rings. only my thumbs were not ringed. I opened my spellbook and saw a spell that read 'Advance Through the Dream'. I casted the spell. The surrounding dimmed. I wished to stay a few more moments to see to where the spell would bring me but I was compelled to wake up and record.

4. I was myself again, sitting on the foremost bench in a gothic cathedral. The alta, benches and walls are all built of off-white stones. I dimly remembered wearing a white shirt and blue jeans. Sunlight was shining on several huge stained-glass windows and it was beautiful!

(This window is actually not gothic. The effect is similar, though, as is the colour of the wall.)
My university admission officer sit by the altar, her elbows on it. She was in a white long-sleeve band-collar jumper. The altar hid her body below chest. Her hair was chin-length blonde. It was strange; in waking life I talked with her on the phone but have never seen her -- I'm supposed to meet her first time on registration day, two weeks later; and I know she is asian and shouldn't have blonde hair. She was reading a piece of paper, saying, 'Fei. Height, eightly percent,' I thought she must mean I was 80% average height of my age-group. She continued, 'Weight, one hundred and two percent,' I thought, hell, I may be short, but I never got that fat! I looked at my hands, noticing the gold ring with big red stone on my right ring finger again. So I thought, hm, she will announce something truly hilarious. So she said, 'Drunk, one hundred and eight percent.' I don't drink alcohol ever. I laughed and woke.

18 Aug

No chololate. Knew that I would know I was dreaming and record all I dreamt. Knew that I would have vivid dreams. Knew that I would have long, epic dreams.
It turned out I had one long, vivid, realistic dream. Not lucid, but at least I woke up at the right moment to write it down. I had a short boring dream before that.

1. My university admission officer and I sent bureaucratic emails back and forth. (Ah! How dull&#33 The last letter she wrote me reads, visually,

Dear student

I'm afraid we don't have permission to answer your question. Only the head director may help you.

Ms. C.
Department of Admission and Financial Aid

All you wish to keep in the tutorial are life and peace, and life has rejected you.[/b]

Reading the last line, I began an elaborate string of reasoning to determine whether I was dead or not. Then I thought, I must write this down! and woke.

2. I was standing on a big pavement. The sun was bright. There were big trees protruding here and there through the paving stones, shading everything. The locations of the trees were seemingly random but I was sure they were artificially planted. To my right was a huge highway. Walls of bush seperated the driveways but I could not see through the first one. Cars and pedestrians moved around at their respective speeds. I heard car engine, insects humming and people chitchatting. The air was strangely free of pollutes; it had a sweet fragrance. I felt good-humoured and in control and intelligent.

My mom stood before me, at her worst temper, her face twisted in anger and anxiety, her eyes burning. She was shouting at a nondescript someone, presumably her friend.

Mom (firing loudly and rapidly): Ten thousand bucks! I din't even notice til you tip me off! So that's why you woun't let me anchor that 'count!
(Dimly I was aware 'anchoring' means to attach a bank account to a person, via signature verification tech or stuff like that, so nobody eles can draw from it. It was common security practice in this dream world.)
Mom: ...So that he can draw from it! He figured a way din't he? DIN'T HE?

I knew 'he' meant my dad. In this dream my mom and dad divorced many years ago, just like they did in waking life. My dad remarried and my mom did not.

I thought how elaborate a way my dad used to get $10,000. He must be truly desperate. I turned and saw my Dad's wife (let's say, DW) came to greet us. She was very tall, I barely reached her elbow. She had dark, shoulder-length hair and wore a dark blue dress with a shade of purple. Her face was round, almost circular. She had a mild, serene, passive aura about her. ...WAIT she looked identical to Mona Lisa!!!
(My dad's real wife is a wilful woman, shorter than I, has an angular face, short hair and NO resemblance whatsoever to Mona Lisa.)
I led her on a walk to be away from my fuming parent. We had a conversation.

Me: Fraud. That's what dad did.
DW: You can't say that! He's your dad!
Me: Yes, it is fraud. He has no claim on the money; when he drew it mom and he were already divorced, or he needn't elaborate at all.
DW: But...
Me: He will face repercussion or he will escape, flying abroad or hiding underground. Either way he will leave you behind, marked with his existence just like my mom. It is not in your interest to let him escape.
DW: (distressed)
Me: Punishment will come to him and leave you alone. You are not responsible.

We parted. I didn't know whether she felt better or worse.

Then I saw my dad coming to me. He was in his best deep-blue suit, radiating warmth. (He does have an aura of leadership in real life.) His hair was well-kept and shining. His body was muscular and impressive. (He was fatty actually.) He greeted me warmly. We went on a walk.

Me: So you made mom's friend convince her not to anchor her account, then went and drew away.
Dad: It's not as you thought.
Me: That's the truth, you must admit.
Dad: Well, I do.
Me: Prepare for your punishment.

We walked down a bare, muddy canyon. Machine kling-klat-klang around us. I saw black, twisted iron wires protrude from some ridges. It looked like the construction site of an enormous skyscraper. Dad turned on his charm, visibly.
(He does have some skills manipulating people in waking life.)
Dad (stunningly): There are many ways you can spend ten thousand dollars. Can you think of one better than to save a girl and a woman from death-brink poverty?

I laughed. His working is visible. But his words were not easy to dismiss, they must have some truth in them. I said, 'it's time you stop thinking and playing with emotions. I may forgive you, but the law will not.'

Then I began to reason how dad's charm worked. A sure thing to end a dream.

19 Aug

I went on a flavorless sensless time-wasting company vacation in mom's honor. We both came to the conclusion to never do such a thing again.

I had a dream fragment on the ride.

1. My computer had a file system problem and some files needed to be restored. It felt like I was on the way to succeeding.

Later I had about 300ml chocolate milk before sleep in a hotel.

I'm accustomed to sleep without a pillow. Yerstereve I decided to try something different and used the pillow. I knew to have long dreams, knew to have vivid dreams, and knew myself to be dreaming and would write my dreams down. The freaking thing is, I got long, vivid dreams and woke at the last moment to know I got them, and poof! Nothing's left except a feeling.

I'm rewording my mental commands tonight.

2. A song I heard when the world was young. The end. Screw it.

I heard a story during the ride. One P Uni professor, a genius mathematician loved by all, was ruined because of the discovery that his degrees were faked. Now to the corresponding dream.

3. Mr Y, a P Uni professor, taught my highschool class maths for some time. Now he was giving us another lecture. In the spare time of the class he told us he was sacked, and his degrees were found fake. I felt guilty somehow. I forgot what happened then. The closing scene was he telling us to complete his course we need to learn one of three things, each of its own advantages and difficulties.

4. I was sitting in my hotel bed, (a great improvement in realism! My first dream setting in my sleeping room&#33 reading the list of A-Thousand-Ways-To-Pay-The-Hotel-Extra. It assigned outlandish prices to every would-be-broken piece of furniture. The last few lines read

Applying Cosmetics $15
Applying Cosmetics to Good Effect $20
PLACES TO DEVASTATE[/b]

Never learnt where.

5. A reptilian or draconic feeling. The end. Grunk grunk grunk.

20 Aug
I was so tired last night I didn't give myself anly command. Got two non-lucid impressions.

I finally understand how it feels not to be able to recognise one's own handwriting. My usual dreams go into my consciousness so deep that I seldom need to consult my physical DJ to make entries here. Not so now.

1. There was a skilled bow maker. (I was initiated into archery yesterday :yumdumdoodledum: It's great fun&#33 He wrote on papers that looked like a physician's recipes.

2. Lots of things happened and then a girl asked me a question. I felt positive about her.

21 Aug

I dozed off as soon as I was in bed, not doing anything nor give commands. Had another archery dream (Yay&#33
1. The day was sunny, the illumination greater than I like. I was at the gate of an outdoor archery club that basically broke every piece of archer's chivalry out there. Colourful plastic armchairs and round tables scattered around, colourful people filled their mids. There was a 'mashal', an extremely bossy guy shouting abuses. Two archers stood about three strides from the gate, shooting across the club, covering most people in their lines of fire. There was a most conspicuous figure, a single standing old wasting man, drinking alcohol from the table beside him. I wondered how he managed not to catch an arrow.

I woke, wrote the above down, remembered my lessons and gave my commands,
KNEW I will dream and gently discover I'm dreaming and wake to record the dreams after detailed information of the dream world and sequence of events therein have been gathered.

2. I was standing before a bathroom, my bathroom, which didn't look like the real mine one bit. It had two doors facing me, seperated by a shoulder-width brown wall. I pushed the left door and went in.

I found two paralell tubs against walls to my left and right. They are crematic brown. The walls and ceiling were grey. L, a family friend with whom I'm not very close, sat in the tub to my left. An eerie metallic grey-golden liquid filled the tub half-full and L sat in it, immersed to his knees. He was getting stoned. I didn't know how but knew he was.

I became angry and yelled at him saying he should not get stoned in my bathroom and my tub. He gave no response. A voice said, 'I'd leave him alone if I were you.' I turned and saw a young man in endorsed golden robe and golen hat sat by the tub to my right, one foot on the brink. I knew he was a sorcerer. (I must be playing too much D&D ) There was another stood beside him, a short, sleek woman armed with daggars, a rogue I was sure. That moment the right door opened and my friend the ranger entered. He said, 'I'm not watching anymore. You (indicating the sorcerer) can't do this to him.' The sorcerer shrugged. The ranger drew his sword. I knew a fight was inevitable and ran off the left door, passed a brown aisle to the living room.

The living room looked like my old living room, just dimmer. I turned at the big glass table, round the sofa to find my bow (already strung) and quiver standing against the wall. I grabbed them, went to the end of the glass table, a place from where the bathroom double doors were visible. I picked up an arrow and drew, aimed at the left door.

I didn't wait long, but long enough to tire my arms maintaining the drawn position in waking life. I think I simply ignored the possibility of fatigue in dream. It seemed the sorcerer casted a fireball. A fool, I thought, to do it in such confined place. The left door burst open and L stammered out, shrouded in flames. A few seconds later the other three followed, all toasted worse. I didn't think I need to shoot any of them, so I lowered my bow.

Great! My third archery dream!

3. This one is ground-breaking! I stayed lucid for a long while!

We were coming back from the company trip in this HUGE company car. I looked out the window and saw rains. The streets were wet pitch, the sky grey, the buildings had a shade of brown. The company car stopped in a parking lot. I darted off to dad's jeep. (My dad doesn't actually have a jeep.) I crawled in and slammed the door. Dad began to drive at his usual speed (meaning veeeerrie fast).

I smelt petrol and tobacco and saw the streets through the window. Dad was talking about a VIP account of this massive-multiplayer-online-role-playing-game named F.E.A.R. he got for me directly from the software company. I wasn't interested in MMORPGs and was unconfortable in those aromas so I told him to stop. He didn't seem to hear and babbled on about how few those VIP accounts were.

I thought, what the hell, I don't need tobacco or petrol in dreams! I opened the door and JUMPED :yumdumdoodledum: OFF! There was a huge longuitudinal depression in the middle of the road, one stride from the line my dad drove along. The depression was mostly bare earth, some pitch pieces and pebbles scattered here and there. I fell in the depression and ROLLED! Bumping against all sorts of oddities! Skies, buildings and muds spinning in my vision! It was like riding a roller-coaster! I decided to jump again when I came to a stop. I turned the corner and saw the company car. I climbed in. It started. H, sitting before me, was trying to pick up a conversation. I was not in the mind to talk and knew I would face no consequence if I ignored him, so I did. When the company car picked up enough speed, I opened the door and JUMPED :yumdumdoodledum: AGAIN!
At this point the dream transformed and I lost lucidity. Mom and I were in a grey room where two perpendicular counters of chocolate-coloured wood occupied most space. Mom was complaining to the girl in dark red uniform at the counter. Mom said her 56k modem wouldn't connect to the internet. The girl offered a list of numbers of various internet service providers and asked mom whether she got the number wrong. Mom said she didn't. So they tried the numbers on a dark red plastic phone on the counter to check. There was the ring tone, but the irky jerky signals internet providers send to 56k modems didn't come. The girl looked puzzled.

4. I don't know what to make of this, it's like I became lucid the moment the dream was on and changed the course of everything. I was in that big city I'm living in. The illumination wasn't good, it seemed to be at dusk. I flew. Yeah. Not the gentle, levitation thing; I flew at or above the speed of an aeroplane. I navigated through the gutters between buildings, spiralled up skyscrapers and dove to a street and pulled up at the last moment, things like that. I find the trick to stay lucid is not to be *fully* aware of me dreaming, but be aware *just* enough to know my actions are not consequential. It was lucky I remembered this one; I didn't wake immediately when the dream's off.

22 Aug

I was tired and said my lessons apathetically. No good no dream.

23 Aug

Several impressions and a long dream last night. My first false-wakening. There were neat concepts, none original. They all came from books or videogames.

I was Harry Potter. I felt cold, sarcastic and intelligent but I knew I was Harry Potter. I was in a dark version of my living rooom: it was unlit and all sorts of oddities were there at weird angles to one another. The unlit door opened and entered a dark robed figure. He was my friend and his name was Sredni Vashtar (Saki's character in the story of the same name). He was deadly pale and bone thin. Either of us had very bad news to tell the other. We played the truth-is-so-horrible-I-can't-bear-to-tell game, holding carrots just in front of each other, a technique so frequently employed in Dan Brown's books. There were some novel expressions. None of them stayed in my memory.

Finally I told him, saying, 'You are not addressing one man but two. Do you remember the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? I'm in a similar condition, but worse.'

There was a parallel dream for a minute. I was telling this schizophrenic Harry Potter's story to mom in my bright, normal living room. I made a sarcastic comment about how Harry didn't have enough money to pay for therapy because Ms. Rolling passed away and all Harry Potter book sales went to J. K. Rolling foundation, a charity project.

Then he showed me his bad news by polymorphing into hundres of black bugs (from Steven King's Little Sisters). He was infected by lycanthropy, apparently, and became were-many-bugs, the collective consciousness of many individuals.

At the moment I still remembered the conversation between us. I thought, wow, I got a novel! it's time to write it down! -- and had a FALSE AWAKENING.

I dreamt myself rolled in my bed and grabbed my physical DJ. The events and conversations arranged themselves effortlessly into poetic lines, those I wrote down. After five lines I was very pleased with my literary genius and tried to read what I wrote to find I could not. Revelation slowly dawned on me when I found myself unable to recall Harry's or Sredni's words. I thought of going back to sleep, and reasoned if I did so I would lose the entire dream not just the conversations. So I got up.

I guess I placed too much emphasis on dream length and vividness and too little on consciousness. I had at least two long, vivid dreams last night and didn't wake at either of them. I remembered one this morn, whose many details are lost.

I was doing paperwork for a uni officer in her well-lit office. Two students came in and reported they would go bird hunting. The officer sighed, went to a cupboard and drew a plastic bag out. I saw a few bolts suspended in the bag and a CROSSBOW! So I shouted, 'A CROSSBOW!' They turned to me and smiled. The officer gave the bag to one of the student and bid him careful. I requested to join the hunting band and nobody objected. So I went with my two companions down a cobblestone road out of the uni through a green steel gate (which is non-existent; my uni doesn't have gates or peripheral walls, beside the fact I'm not there yet.)

25 Aug
Looking at my previous entries I came to the conclusion that the conscious presence and probability of wakening in a dream is positively related to my determination. Too much determination results in short dreams with rapid wakenings and too little kept me asleep.

Last night I used more determination than the night before it. Still not enough to my liking. Had one dream and that terrible sensation my memory is too big to contain in my brain. It is time for a break.

The dream
I was looking for a football field. It was a sunny sky above a pitch road and red brick houses. I was on a veeerie retrospective bicycle. I turned right into a cerment-paved narrow space between two houses. I rode past a group of little girls in identical shirts and shorts that had large patches of green on them. I found the space was a dead-end. The end is a miniature wall one-feet in height. I looked past it to see a vast landscape of vegetations stretched far below me. (How cool it would be to accelerate my bike and collide with this wall?)

I turned back and asked the little girls for direction. They said the football field was across the road I came from. I followed their direction and found a guard-house. I was sure the girls were correct and this guard-house served as the entrance to my destination. There was an iron-wire fence to the left of the guard-house. I led my bike there.

A hostile guard shouted to stop me. I had difficulty communicating with him. He couldn't voice anything other than 'grrrrr' or 'mrh' or 'ahhhhh'. It failed to alert me. I tried my best to inform him my intention to enter the football field. He pointed to a heap of rubbish beside his guardhouse. There was a wooden beam atop the heap that connect it to a wall. I thought he meant me to walk atop the beam. I complied but he stopped me before I could haul my bike up the rubbish.

I was frustrated and turned to the fence, saying, 'so which way should I go?' Every thing changed as I turned back. Everything became... neater, more ordered, more formal. The garbages disappeared. The guardhouse turned white as if newly painted. The guard became a nice little old man. The fence became a high-tech electric-powered automatic collapsable gate.

The nice old little man chatted with me merrily. His words leaked out of my mind. In the end I set out through the gate to the complex within. It turned out to be a university. The bathroom was right in front of me. There was a wood-framed brown glass door I felt certain to lead to a chemistry lab. The nice old little man instructed me specifically to use the lab door.

Then I was in a lecture, my bicycle gone. The young female lecturer told us to read a book. I scanned the content page. I couldn't read it, of cource, but I knew the upper large block of black ink belonged to the first chapter which was about foundamental particles and their interactions, and the lower large block of black ink belonged to the second chapter which was about why there are foundamental particles. (I don't think we know about this one, do you? ) I didn't know which chapter to read, so I asked the guy in black casual clothing and long dark hair sitting to my right. He said it was the second chapter, and being pretty pessimistic, adviced me not to read the first. I hadn't read the first chapter, beside it looked interesting anyway, I chose to read both.

There was a pause and I was years past graduation. I was in a ball. I met a girl in the above lecture. She was in an elegant black dress. She said she was not satisfied with her current job.


I'm tired of all those uni dreams. I hate them! It must be all those entry paperwork and surveys. Hate them too! :hatred: :hatred: :hatred: :hatred: :hatred: :hatred: :hatred:

28 Aug
No effort was made to dream. It will be so for as long as I see fit.

Some night (I can't remember which) I dreamt that I read a document. Today I contacted the party concerned and acquired proof that the said document was in a dream. Until then I took the fictitiousness detailed therein as fact. (So I can read things in dreams, after all, just can't identify all the words.)