Lucid Intent? Yes Lucid Technique: WBTB
This dream has been viewed 9674 times.
[link to my artwork -- to see the ones that are animated: click on image, then "View main page," and finally "ALL SIZES"]
Something about a little dog ... a Chihuahua? (precog: I saw a preview for the new movie about Chihuahuas, and I also saw Legally Blonde on Broadway this past spring, in which a very well-trained Chihuahua jumped and barked at exactly the right times in the musical).
Then, my brother, B___, is driving a VW bug and I'm a passenger. We're going through a pirate re-enactment of 1776 (precognitive: they're doing a re-enactment of pirate history in my town today, and I just happened to stumble across it while I was jogging IRL).
A pirate girl makes him stop and she starts drumming on the hood of our car, some pirate beat.
Suddenly I'm very disturbed by my brother's attitude ... he's talking "down his nose," that is, he seems to have an attitude that his look on things is more important than what's happening right in front of us right now.
"This is not the B___ I knew back in 1976," I say to him.
There's a lapse in time in my consciousness, and the next thing I know there's been a car accident. and B___ is still driving. He's had some kind of glass injury and is bleeding, and now my older brother, D____, is a passenger as well and is likewise injured. But B___ continues to drive on.
I pull out the ignition key and grab the steering wheel, turning it hard to the right, so the car grinds against the wall of the tunnel we're passing through and comes to a stop. I look up at the cement of the tunnel wall, and see a strange pattern similar to the nuclear radioactivity warning ...
... but it doesn't make me lucid (although why WOULD an animated radioactive symbol appear on a solid cement wall in real life?!). I start gathering blankets together, knowing we have a long hike ahead of us on foot. My brothers and I are going to be homeless and without resources, because they're CRAZY, and I'm the only one that now cares if they survive or not.
I wake up, eat a yogurt, and go back to sleep.
I see a supposedly clumsy woman that could land on her feet when her parachute failed after she fell out of a plane. She used many quick movements with her body to create fiction, someone tells me -- this slowed her descent. Her heels clomped down on the pavement and she walked away, not in the least bit hurt by her contact with the cement.
I ask a professor, "Why don't we invent something similar that creates friction that would replace the need for a parachute?"
The woman's name flashes through my head -- Mrs. Codley Beaulimont -- and I wake up.
(I found this image on the web and it seemed to portray the feeling of Codley's sequence in my dream) --
There are large, red jets in the sky. But they're sort of shaped like dirigibles, and I almost become lucid because it hardly seems like there can be jets that are shaped like this.
My sister, C___, is driving and I'm a passenger, but she almost keeps drifting off the road as she peers upward into the sky to study the enormous red and white jets.
(shift) A man is showing signs of dementia. He wants to drive his car anyway. He's visiting his wife in the nursing home, and he begins painting his face with hobby paint, a green color.
I tell him that he should think about spending what little time he has left with his wife in the nursing home, and he seems to agree with this and give up on the idea of going out on a drive. He has himself admitted to the same nursing home as his wife. I wake up and realize that I was dreaming of what I wish my father would do, have himself admitted so that his severe psychological problems can be taken care of (which he will not do).