Hello! After checking other forums, I was suggested that I was having lucid dreams, and suggested to post about it here. I figured "why not?" I'd love to hear anyone's opinion on it (at least if you feel like reading it all, heh. I kept it to the latest dreams so it wouldn't be longer).
edit: this was a cut and paste so I didn't have to retype it all over again, but just in case I don't note, though I may be quite aware I am in a dream, and in full control of myself, the world is totally out of my control no matter what I do. It's like it's not mine to tamper with. Worse, if I try to wake myself out of the dream, I can't.

This might be a bit long winded, but I have many years of this dream to write about, so I'll try to sum up. I'm just curious what people that I don't know personally might think of this, because I don't think there's any kind of 'solution' to stop the dreams.
Before I describe my most current dreams, I shall sum up the history of my dreams. Most of it revolves around this floating red eyeball that travels through mirrors. It never does anything physical, except to observe and pulsate this off-and-on going red light from it. But it causes a lot of pain to have it look at you. When I was young, about 7 or 8 or so, my brother and I both had this same dream. We would be lying in our beds, unable to move, and the eye would be there, pulsating, looking down on us. Our parents didn't pay attention when we went to them, so we went to our elementary school guidance counceller. Well, of course, that did no help. One night however, I was able to move in my dream, and I killed it. With a shotgun to be exact, though the only thing I knew about guns was from TV. Since then, my brother never had those dreams ever again. But I still do. My brother's last dream of it was me getting out of my bed and killing it in that fashion. I don't believe in psychic stuff mind you, but what I believe or not, it's baffling to look back on it.

Since then, every now and then I will go almost a month of having these dreams involving the eye, and then they will hibernate, go away for a few months before starting again. I'm almost always inside a house, but not necessarly mine when I'm having these dreams, and they are very in detail. When I awake, though I know it's a dream, it feels so real, and I can remember even the tiniest of details in the rooms I am in. I can move now in my dreams, and most of it is spent trying to escape (or trying to find a way to wake up) before the eye finds me. I rarely succeed.

The scary part is when I wake up, I cannot move sometimes. I sit there, in bed, paralyzed but fully awake. If I try really hard I can breathe heavier or wiggle my foot, but other than that, I have no choice but to go back to sleep in hopes I can move when I wake back up. My brother saw me breathing heavy while sleeping in the car and snapped me out of my paralysis one time by shaking me.

The dreams take part in locations of either a very long and very wide school hallway (rarely), or a living room that connects to a hallway leading to a few bedrooms, and a bathroom I never go into because it has a mirror in there (since the red eye comes out of mirrors). Going into a bathroom with a mirror in my dreams is certain 'death'. Rarely I can make it outside, where the eye cannot follow, but the outside is always desolate, and the sky covered in dark stormy clouds. Never any rain or thunder or lightning, but never any outside light either. Though there are never any lights inside the house either. Though I can see my way around, no source of light anywhere. Even without light, I could describe every piece of furniature, the textures of the walls, everything in super detail.

The outside is always the same. Dark clouds as far as the eye can see, run down and deserted roads, though the grass is very green and healthy. There is a factory always in the distance, old and run down and deserted to the point that it's actually going back in time to while it's being constructed, with rusty supports and broken beams and such.

Anyone in my dreams calls me 'Mama Bear', though I'm a guy myself. People in my dreams are rare, but when they are there they rush to me for help, looking for guidance. They never listen to me though, thinking they can do whatever they want and I will help them, but the desolate world eats them up when I'm not looking, because they didn't heed my advice. Except for one person, who's the only person that has shown up more than once in my dreams, a boy about 14 years old with clothes too big for him and eyeballs which are all shiny black. He follows me around in hopes I will help him, but he never tells me what his problem is.

Anyway, back to the eye. There's no defeating the eye anymore. Nothing works, and I can never fully get away from the eye before being tricked into going back inside where it can get me. If I am aware I am dreaming and summon enough willpower to rip myself out of the dream, I end up in Nothing. Nothing is... well, nothing, a blackness where I am hovering. I see a rectangle of light to go to but I have no way to propel myself. In the Nothing foxes dwell, and they keep a bear in a cage. The foxes mean me no harm but would rather I leave.

I'd rather leave, too.

The only other animals in my dreams are panda bears, who do nothing but sit there, and cats of all different colors who walk on fences. Only one cat appears at any given time.

I could keep going, but I think that's enough. Anyway, my dreams have started up again, and here I will describe what's going on:

I lived in a house which was very run down and small and made out of wood. It was almost like one of those houses you see in horror movies of the zombie variety that might fall apart at any second, but I kept it very clean. There were three rooms to the house.

The living room, rectangle in shape. The small TV sat on a smaller box on the floor, and above it was a painting that was rather large that had red and orange swirls... kind of like that spread cheese you might fine for fancy crackers. It was covering the only window in the living room, and no sunlight ever seeped through even the tiniest of cracks, as if the picture absorbed all light and kept my house in a nice soft darkness. There was a large brown couch, old but well kempt, that I used to sit on and as a bed in the middle of the room. Behind the couch and in one of the corners were various potted plants that I was trying my hardest to keep alive. During the day I would put them on my porch for sun, and during the night I'd bring them in (I did not do this during either dream but I knew I did). Most of the floor had a shaggy and fluffy cream colored rug almost soft enough to sleep on, except for near the front door which was made of wood. The front door was the oldest looking part of the house: a wobbily screen door that would never latch properly, and anyone could easily open it or see inside... not that anyone was around outside to do so. Nor did I care if anyone popped in, though I admitted to myself (in the dream) it was hardly good for security, but then, it wasn't like I had anything worth stealing. Even when it was dark outside, there was enough light coming in from the outside to light up my house-- I had no lights of my own. I could get lights if I wanted to, but never did.

The second out of three rooms was the kitchen. A small kitchen, but the most 'new' part of the house. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was sturdily built, strong and made out of tile and stone. Inside was an old fashioned gas burner stove with two places to put pots on, and an open-and-close stove underneith. To the right was a dishwasher, to the left all my drawers. The cabinets and drawers were all well stocked, and the cabinet tops were a smooth blue-white marble. The kitchen had a blue and white painted motif to it. But about the stove, just to be through in my description, the top burners seemed old and rundown despite my best efforts. To the right inside the kitchen was also a refridgerator, plain white with no magnets for decoration. Nothing much else to report about this.

The last room was a bathroom. Very small, only slightly bigger than an outhouse except much more comfortable. There wasn't actually a shower in there but I was always clean somehow, go figure. There was a heavy door which was made out of wood but I swore felt like stone that opened and closed to it, a simple white porcelean toilet, and that's it. Two of the walls, one to the back and one to the right, were made out of stone. The left wall was made out of flimsy wood. Though I knew nothing could break in from that side. Because there was Nothing on the other side of that wall (just like the back wall at the back of my couch. There was Nothing on the other side of the wall, with a capital N). Plus there were, and I made sure of this, no mirrors in the bathroom. Or anywhere in the house for that matter.

Okay, the story is set. Next I had a visitor. Who was a cat. The cat was old and kind of fat, with a mesh of grey and orange hair. The colors wern't striped-- the gret and orange fur on the cat were all intertwined. Underneith the fur the cat had a variety of scabs and scars, but they did not hurt any longer. I did not know why, but the cat didn't seem to feel pain any more, but it could feel me petting him, and was more than happy to enslave my hand for such petting duties. Anyway, the aging feline also had one yellow eye and one green eye, neither of which stood out more than the other. He didn't have any cares in the world, but seemed intent to living out the rest of it's life happily... aka happily with me, for some reason. He just waltzed on in through my ragged screen door: the top of the door was screened but the bottom was flimsy plastic, so he didnt enter through the screen, but just nudged the door open. The cat seemed to have the attitude that it just didn't care what happened anymore if it was bad to the cat, obviously from the scars, it had seen it all. So I treated the cat with pets and with medicine, and it occured to me later that I was not allergic to the cat. I took a couple of deep breaths just to make sure. Yep, it was OK.

I felt that I could not take care of the cat though. He deserved more than me, what I could I do to make it happy? I was going to take it to one of my friends (who never was in my dream but she likes cats), but the cat refused to leave my house. Almost as if it didn't want to leave for -my- own good.

We hung around the house for awhile, I offered it food but it didn't eat anything, and then we went for a walk. Somehow I had a cat leash.. more like a cat harness really, and there I was, walking the cat outside. The sidewalk leading up to my porch steps was thin, surrounded by plushy grass. There were other houses outside, even more run down than mine. I did not know if they were occupied or not. The sidewalk only went to the right, and we went that way, towards the sunshine. Or semi sunshine-- there is never a sun in my dreams. To the left were darkdarkdark.. very dark clouds. A silent storm brewing, like it was waiting to kill. It was not moving, but just building up, there off to the left in the distance, it was. The ground off to the left, or more like the horizon, since it was so far off, was a hot, unpleasent red color, but the winds that came from there were colder than anything else. It was like the sun set over there despite the storm, and melted the ground. I could feel the earth growl and snarl, angry at what it had become, and willing to share it's anger by causing pain to others.

Yet, it all stayed where it was, which was fine for Cat and I. We walked down the path, hoping to find refreshing sun to find it's way to put it's light on our bodies, but found no beams of happiness so we returned home. Someone was inside my house though when I returned. Someone I knew and not a bad person but, while inside my house, I could not figure out who they were. With them in my house, I couldn't seem to bring myself to go inside until I left. But when they did leave... I woke up before I could find out who it was.

Both nights this happened. It wasn't the same dream twice, the first one I met the cat and the second one we just hung around and did the same mundane things. Not much happened, but the dream still felt like it lasted forever, and it still taxed my brain due to the detail. It felt so real (as these always do to me), yet I knew it was not the real world I belonged in. It was also the most well lit dream I've been in, despite the still lack of normal lighting. The other houses in the area besides mine, I knew, had that darkness in it of.. of... Empty. People and things and stuff may be there, but it was still Empty, and I thought poorly of anyone that would be there. At least there wasn't that horrible red eye floating around, but the red eye can only travel through mirrors, and there was a lack of mirrors.

I'm sure there was more even to describe in the dream but... I think that's enough for now. Nothing else seemed too relevant.

Ah, I hate to dream. I cannot describe in words except 'pain' and 'exhaustion' for what they cause me, always waking up sapped of energy and mental power (or parlyzed if I am unlucky), with too much new detail engraved into my brain.

Well, there's a lot there. If anyone is up to the task of sifting through it with me, I'd be glad. If any more detail is needed, I have plenty of that.