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I'm in a dream that seems to be of very poor visual quality. I'm on a plane that's about to crash, but I'm not that
afraid because I know it's a dream. Just put your face in a pillow and the pillow will absorb the crash, I
And this is exactly what happens. The force of the plane hitting the ground is somehow absorbed by my pillow, and
everyone is safe. I am still not that impressed with the dream, though, for it doesn't seem very real.
I wake up, eat a small breakfast and go back to bed.
I seem to be too well-rested to go back to sleep. But I persist, imagining an out-of-body experience where I swing
my legs over the left side of my bed and stand up. Nothing happens for a long time.
Finally my efforts pay off. I'm lying on my right side, and my left hand suddenly begins spinning rapidly in the
air...almost like a propellor. I try to contain my excitement, for I know that it's my astral left hand
that's spinning. The rest of my body pops out, and I stand up right on my bed.
I can't see anything, though. I know I'm in a room, for I step outdoors. Still I cannot see anything.
I wake up abruptly. But I'm determined to go back into the experience, for I lie very still and do the same thing as
before...imagine myself having an out-of-body experience.
It works, and once I am out of my bed again, I look around and see that I am in a strange room. The bed I was in is
nowhere in sight.I decide that I should pay attention to the visuals of the dream this time, to see if they're stable.
Oddly, they don't materialize until I look at them (I can't remember these things were now that I'm awake).
I go outside again, and mysteriously say, "Calling on the Great Spirit" (I think I may have done this as a dream
assignment MANY years ago, but I haven't thought about it since then). I'm holding a broom up in the air in front of
me with both hands while I say this.
So is someone else! Another man is screaming out the same words, and crying emotionally while he holds his
broomstick up in the air. Still very lucid, I wonder briefly if he is some other more emotional aspect of myself. A
little embarrassed for him, I am now whispering the words while I hold my broomstick.
I look ahead again and see that I'm facing a vineyard. The visual quality of a series of vine covered arches
deteriorates for a moment when I look intently at them.
I look away, for I do NOT want the visual quality of the dream to deteriorate when the dream is this interesting.
I'm picked up in the air and I fly fast after a bunch of drifting soap bubbles. Meanwhile, some song plays in my head.
I wonder if the American Indians had their own version of soap, and if they ever played with soap bubbles.
I wake up.
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Something about Mom (I can't remember this dream).
Woke up, ate breakfast and went back to sleep.
I was on a plane that was as large as a school gym (OK, so school gyms are starting to recur in my
dreams now!). We were going through a hurricane. There seemed to be no danger to us; but everyone
was worried about what was happening to the towns and cities below. To make the storm real, the
airline had installed a movie theater size screen at the front of the plane; and a video of the view
through a front window of a car, being driven on a freeway in the middle of the maelstrom, could be
seen on the large screen. We actually had control of some of the dashboard instruments of the
little car...for example, we could make the wipers turn on and off with buttons next to our seats.
But for a little while, the businessman in front of me and I dueled with these buttons, me trying to
shut the wipers off and him trying to turn them back on. Finally we tired of the silly game.
A group of people gathered near a porthole window to look how hard the rain from the hurricane was
coming down. There wasn't room for me to look, too, so I waited until they left. I looked, and was
horrified. It was truly a terrible storm! Huge drops crawled along the outside of the glass as the
wind pulled at the water. I wondered, Will we have trouble landing?
My cell phone rang back on my seat. I ran back and klutzed around trying to find it. It was my
brother, B___, at our cousins' old house in Maine (in the dream none of them were married yet, and
they all still lived at home -- with my aunt and uncle alive again). I could see them all at the
house somehow, which was strange...but I did not question being able to do this.
There was a shift in the dream. I was with some of my gay friends near Massachusetts Institute of
Technology in Cambridge, Massachusetts. An old friend from college (who is not gay) walked out into
the middle of the intersection by the Mass. Ave. Bridge. I worried momentarily that he was going to
be hurt -- however, my fears went away when I realized this was all just a dream.
"L___!" I called out to him. "You can do anything you want -- it's just a dream!"
However, he gave me an angry look.
I thought, Why don't I fly out there and rescue him? I floated up into the air and was
about to grab him by the collar when he gave me another mean look...and stomped away, in the
direction of the bridge.
There was another shift in the dream. I was in the bed/truck part of the back of a dark car that
seemed to be an old El Camino --
An El Camino
I was thinking about Jesus Christ and how the whole religious/salvation thing had just not worked
for me, even though that's something that happened in my life a very long time ago. I thought about
how it never "cured" me of being gay, and it really never made me feel more "spiritual" -- if
anything, it's been my dreams that have done a lot for me spiritually. Also, I thought about how
collecting quotations that I find inspiring (that is indeed one of my hobbies) has helped me a lot
spiritually, too. Oddly, I wondered if Christianity could still help me, in my dreams -- it is an
appealing idea, after all. But then I thought again (like I would do IMMEDIATELY in my waking
state) about the enormous drawback to Christianity: that Christians basically give up their
intellectual abilities once they are converted. I had never liked that, and I was finally able to
dismiss the thoughts.
We were passing by buildings shaped like silos as I thought about this. There was a funny word, or
phrase, written in huge letters on each one of them (but I can't remember now what it was).
Suddenly I heard Dad coughing loudly. He was slumped over the steering wheel and I knew instantly
that he was having a heart attack. But it was already apparently too late for to do anything, for
our car had drifted into oncoming traffic and a head-on collision with an approaching car was
imminent. From my angle (standing in the bed of the El Camino), I saw part of the view through the
windshield, and the front bumper of this other car was about to make contact.
Suddenly everything switched to super slow motion, frame-by-frame. The bumper moved in choppy
increments towards us.
a whispering voice told me and I obeyed. In the next slowed-down second it said,
Now jump clear of the car.
I did, and I landed in a ditch. I hurried back to the car and was surprised to see there had been
no collision. Why did the voice have me do those things, then? The car was in the ditch, too, but
not damaged. I rushed to the driver's side and went to get Dad out. I fumbled with my cell phone
at the same time, but a woman had come out of a nearby house and was already calling 911 on hers.
She was a little confused, though -- I took the phone from her and tried to tell the operator the
address of the house the woman lived in. I couldn't quite read it on the street sign and the number
next to her doorway, though, and the woman had to help me with the information.
Back to Dad -- I easily got him out of the car, since he had morphed into a midget. But he was
disproportionately shaped. He did not look like Dad at all at this point, but I didn't notice. We
got him over to a bedroom of a small house that had no walls or ceilings -- it was just basically a
floor! -- and put him carefully on the bed. I arranged the pillow and a blanket so he could breathe
"What should we do for someone who is having a heart attack?" I asked.
The ambulance arrived, and they did a quick check on my midget father's vitals. They told us that
he had not had a heart attack at all, and I was greatly relieved.
I woke up, hardly believing that my dad looking like a midget did not make me lucid.
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I stood in a store in downtown Boston, wondering where my things had gone. There was confusion over
the things I had just stacked in the back of the jet I had just flown on, including pairs of blue
jeans, papers and an odd setup for testing patients for syphillis. The setups each consisted of a
small glass beaker in which a test tube sat; in the test tube was the patient's serum, and a
dipstick-like paddle was immersed in it. While I looked for these things, I looked for a telephone
to call my supervisor and ask him what to do about the lost lab kits.
A woman shrieked, "Look, it's going to crash!" Everyone in the store turned to look out the large
windows that faced in a northerly direction of the city. There, in the sky, a huge jet with
squarish fuselages on it plunged straight down towards the city as if it were a rock. Flames
streamed out of the fuselage. It slammed into the city and a bright flash filled the sky. The
buildings nearest it ignited, and columns of brown, billowing smoke exploded outwards as more and
more buildings ignited as well. And this didn't seem to stop -- soon the buildings only a block or
so away from us ignited as well. This didn't make sense, though...why was the whole city being
consumed by one plane crash?
At that moment, I realized it was a dream. "Don't worry, everyone, this is just a dream," I said in
a loud voice.
"Who are you to say?" a heavy-set woman with blonde hair retorted. "This is NOT a dream."
I slapped her face. "It is TOO!" I shouted, and woke up.
I'm flying twice this week, first to Chicago and then to Seattle. I haven't flown much since 2001,
so I think my fear of flying produced this dream.