altered Boston in the future/melted CD (illus.)
Level of Lucidity:
Level of Cohesiveness:
Lucid Intent? Yes Lucid Technique: WBTB
This dream has been viewed 3855 times.
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[lucid assignment: let the dream direct itself, and just go along with the plot as an extra would on a movie set. Be acutely aware of opportunities to interact with the dream characters as they arise, and in this way change the mix of the dream.]
I'm in a high rise penthouse in a futuristic version of the city of Boston. However, I don't seem to realize that I've traveled through time; I'm confused as to why things look so different. A channel was dredged and lined with glass at some point in time through east and south Boston and the water in it is a robin's-egg blue. This channel encompasses the whole city.
I look around and see a cathedral thousands of stories tall, but it looks really ancient. I'm puzzled as to what year it was built ... it HAD to be after 2009, but why then does it look so ancient?
The group I'm with walks over to some very old brownstones hundreds of stories tall, with genetically engineered, crawling vines built into their structures. Again I wonder why they look so old when they also had to have built after 2009.
We start going up one brownstone, somehow scaling the outside of it. I'm amazed at how much the city has changed. It starts to occur to me that thousands of years must have gone by, but then ...
(shift)
I'm in a room of a building near the hospital I work at in real life. Suddenly I spot my grandmother in amongst a crowd of people -- the grandmother who lived with us when I was growing up, and in a instant I'm lucid.
I go over and tell her that I can see her and I tell her I love her and miss her.
She looks joyful and hugs me, and says she loves and misses me, too.
Then I see my mother there, too, but I'm confused for a moment as to whether she's dead or alive (she's dead), and in that moment the dream shifts.
Now I'm the ghost, talking to a young man. I'm not hopeful that he'll hear me, but I keep trying.
Suddenly he looks at me and says something in reply.
"You can hear me!" I say.
We chat.
Then I join a whole group of ghosts and a bunch of other people in the room, and we all put our arms around each other's shoulders and begin dancing a polka-like jig around in a circle -- the dance somehow included a comedic kick.
Another shift, and I'm looking at how a whole planet is represented by a small quartz stone being stirred by my finger in a grainy, white solution. But then my finger becomes a glass stirrer, and I start thinking this planet REALLY is somewhere in the universe.
I think that I wake up, but don't seem to realize I'm still in the same dream, just outside of the building I was just in. I don't want to forget what came before, so I begin writing it down on a brick walkway ... with my thoughts. The words appear in dark brown all-caps, kind of textured right over the bricks.
I wake up and DO remember the dream, but not the words that my mind created to remind me of it.
(wake up, record, fall back to sleep)
My mother is telling me to bring the cats in, in a (dream) house that I think we live in. I go out in the garage and look for them, but am horrified to see a kid has squashed one of them and then has let it dry in this flattened state, and is carrying it around like a stuffed animal, joking with other neighbor kids about it.
(wake up, record, fall back to sleep)
A long lucid dream in which I see the opportunity to experiment with the dream state. I jump into a garbage can on purpose to accomplish this, and as I fall into it I feel myself going into a deep trance and an altered state.
I do this several more times (but the details of the other times are now forgotten).
Then someone makes a cd for me, but it turns into a crescent moon with a rainbow-like articulation near the center. I think for a moment it's because the dream is losing cohesion, but then it occurs to me that it's turning into this new shape is intentional on the part of my dreaming mind.
I move on and stop worrying about the cohesion of the dream. I realize they don't have a place to store my cd for me after I wake up, but I ask anyway.
Of course he says no, it's too big ... there's no place for it. So, with a shrinking motion of my fingers I cause the cd to contract to the size of a microchip. I ask if I can store it in his toolbox.
He opens up a large case, but most of the inside of it is just padding -- in the recesses that are there, tiny, high tech tools that I've never seen before barely take up any space at all. He says it's pretty full, which makes me laugh.
(wake up, record, fall back to sleep)
A young man with a disturbed look on his face is reading dark, free verse poetry in the church my parents took me to as a child.
A girl with glasses stands up and recites part of it back to him, which seems to me like something they rehearsed before. I notice that he's wearing a cape and odd, white spandex tights, and yet I don't become lucid. His poetry has sexual overtones and he suddenly points to all these plastic blow-up dolls in Barbie outfits hanging over the stained glass windows. I wonder why they let him do this reading in front of all the children in the audience.
I wake up.
