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It's hard to make sense of my notes, though my memory was already vague when I wrote them down:
Growing mushrooms in jars of wild birdseed. Showing my wife the jars, making and innoculating more of them.
Black-and-white ghosts walking along the sidewalk, walking through cars.
Bella (my sister's dog) was at the vet. My dad told me that she'd had a pause, showed me the EKGs. It looked like 6-8 seconds of ventricular asystole, but then I realized from something I saw on the EKG that it wasn't real, some interference pattern from her phone being too close to the machine.
Anne and I were in college together. (She's a former co-worker and good friend, has been an RN for 14 years longer than I have.)
I had a large orange clay thing that's difficult to describe. It had many "platforms" and small potted plants were set on them, many of them cacti or succulents, but some other plants as well. I was showing them to my dad and explaining the different growth stages of plants. Rhizomorphic mycelium was growing around the central part of the display and I pointed it out, explained the difference between plant and fungi.
It was the 80s and I was driving in the car with a woman in the passenger seat. There were lots of bodies, occasonally in the backseat, most on the sidewalks or in parking lots that we were passing. The majority were female torsos, tanned and toned. At one point we were pushing them out of the car as we drove.
I was walking along the sidewalk in California, tripping. It was normal dream weirdness, but I noticed that it was strange and attributed it to hallucinogens rather than dreaming. It was early morning and I'd been walking through the streets all night. The sun was coming up and I was passing club kids in rave or Goth type clothes, some of them sitting on stone steps of a large building. As the effects of the drug wore off, I walked into a shop full of clay and ceramic art. I squeezed between some close shelves to get into a room at the back where a lot of these pieces were piled on a table. There were vases and masks in the front part of the store. In this room, I found clay figures of amanita muscaria mushrooms that were meant to hang on the wall.
There are a lot of hazy memories that are difficult to piece together. A few rooms that I kept walking through that were in a building like a dormitory. I was going into the rooms of my friends and acquaintances to leave things (gifts) for them to find when they got back.
Plants and mushrooms have been recurring symbols recently.
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Every scene was very repetitive. The same thing kept happening again and again, or I was doing the same act over and over (sometimes with slight variations), or another character in the dream was doing the repetitive act.
Less than an hour after going to bed, my wife came to bed and I woke up halfway from the first dream, a mantra being chanted in my head in my voice, thinking I was clutching my mala until she asked for some covers and I realized I was actually clutching the blanket.
My wife had the car. We were living in a city that looked like New York but felt like San Francisco. Lots of red brick buildings.. I left the apartment and walked four blocks down, passing a small carnival and walking through an empty building with a glass front wall that used to be a car rental business. Walking back, I saw that the carnival was going on in front of a WalMart, so I went into the store. After looking at the produce, the bakery, and the deli (where I found single-slice packages of kosher cheese, and thought that was strange), I went upstairs where I ordered a pizza from the woman who'd arranged my job interview last Thursday. Uri Geller was making them. I was told to come back and pick it up in 4 to 25 minutes.
I walked home and was on the phone with my parents. The call lasted a very long time, unnecessarily long. After 2 hours, we hung up, and I went back to pick up the pizza. The cashier said that there would be a delivery charge, even though it wasn't being delivered, so she gave me a coupon to make up for it. The coupon was for a box of cookies, and the text was clear. I found the product and looked at the coupon again. (It had changed, but I assumed I hadn't looked close enough the first time to see what I now saw on it.) The coupon was valid for one of two varieties. One was a stack of burgers and onions coated in the type of pale chocolate coating that usually covers wafers. The other type was a deep, very moist cake with a pile of whipped cream on top. I thought both looked and sounded very disgusting and decided not to get either.
Back home, I saw a stack of pizza boxes on the floor that my wife and her friend had ordered over the past week. They all had half-eaten pizzas inside. I set mine down on top of the stack and forgot about it.
My wife and I were in my car in an airport parking garage. The floor and seats were covered with potted plants, things I'd planted that had grown a good deal but now we were having to leave most of them behind. The lupine had started to bloom. The flowers were tall and white, and resembled small beehives on close inspection. I chose 3 plants to take with me and we went into the airport with our luggage.
There was a group of girls, a group of guys, the two of us, and my sister in the airport lobby, standing around the elevator. When it opened, my wife, my sister, and I got in, as well as the group of 5 guys. The elevator took us directly up to the plane, which was a small off-white concrete room with pipes and wires exposed along the walls and ceiling. As soon as we walked out into the room and set our things down, the elevator became a shower.
I saw 3 hamsas on the floor around the shower. My wife took the first shower, lining up 5 sex toys on the towel rack. 3 were glass and 2 were ceramic. She also asked me to hold the violet wand (an electrical toy) which I took reluctantly, and got slight shocks through it when I touched anything else. It became a red-hot glowing ceramic branding iron which I tried for a few minutes to set down carefully without burning anything.
When she got out, it was my turn to shower. The shower curtain didn't make sense to me -- it was a thin plastic material, high off the ground (though it hadn't appeared so earlier), and looking up, the track on the ceiling didn't wrap around, so I wasn't sure how it would close. It did close, but the shower was on a raised concrete platform with a drain in the center, and nothing really to keep the water from spilling down the sides and into the rest of the airplane. I noticed that there was an indented section of the floor along the wall behind the shower, where I set my 3 plants to keep them dry. I picked up the hamsas from the floor (all metal with blue enamel inlays) and washed them off in the shower, then set them down by my feet, intending to keep them.
All of the passengers took turns showering. The 5 guys were very stereotypically gay, and were very entertaining. They danced and told jokes. I don't remember any of the jokes but I remember laughing. After landing, we gathered our things and everyone else got off the plane. I was the last to get my things, and when I went to get the plants, I couldn't find the hamsas. My wife had left her bag, so I took it. I saw that one of the guys had left his bag, too. Her phone was on her luggage and it rang. I picked it up, and saw that she was somehow calling her mom from her phone (which I held in my hand).
There was either a sudden change of scenery, or I woke up to get a drink and then went back to bed. Either way, I was now sitting in my backyard and my mom was sitting next to me, though we weren't "actually" there. This was something of an astral meeting, because part of me was vaguely aware that I was still on the plane or in the airport. She was telling me about my plants in the garden, how they'd been growing while I was gone. She showed me some of the flowers and put them in my hand. They instantly became dry, and I could feel seeds rattling in them. She told me that my mushrooms had grown and she picked them before they could open fully and rot, so she could save them and give them to me when I got back. She was worried that they wouldn't last long but I told her I could dehydrate them and they would be fine. She was not aware that these were psilocybe cubensis mushrooms and I didn't tell her.
Back at the airport, I went into a store on the ground floor and was looking for colorful band-aids. Because my wife had already taken the car, a friend's father came to pick me up. We went back to his house and he was playing classical music and painting his nails with a clear coat of nail-polish, and we had a conversation. He was a doctor and I got a very archetypal father-figure kind of feel from him.
I was steaming, sterilizing, and pressure-cooking large bags of rye and bird seed, substrate for the next crop of mushrooms. I did this over and over again until my wife came up and said she was going to the grocery store. She was acting kind of evasive, so I asked how much she intended to spend, because she'd just gone to the store yesterday. She said she needed to spend $20 to $50. I was dismayed because we couldn't afford that, but if I said so, she would get upset that I was "trying to tell her what to do."
I made my first mala yesterday, hemp cord and soapstone beads. "Aum namah shivaya" is the mantra I intend to use with it, but I don't remember which one was repeating in my dream. The concern about money in the last paragraph, our lack of it, and the way she spends it and reacts to statements of reality very much reflects how things actually are right now. The hamsas and the mushrooms have spiritual or religious significance. This is probably the third dream in a month involving airplanes or airports. The shower was a very significant symbol, though I'm not sure how to interpret it in the context of everything else in the scene.
Also wondering about the significance of a lack of transportation (wife having the car, then having to leave it at the airport) in the same dream as flying on an airplane, a more powerful form of transportation.
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Lucid Technique: RT
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What I can remember began with a suicide attempt, a large overdose. It was a street drug, not pharmaceutical. I think heroin, but my memory isn't complete. Vague memories of a scene in the hospital where my dad was at the bedside and I had an IV.
After being discharged, I waited outside the hospital on the sidewalk. It was night and it was dark. A (my wife) came to pick me up, and we'd exchanged a few words before she noticed someone 15 to 20 ft away and drove off because she "didn't want to be seen with a tranny." I waited, and she did this a second time. So I walked a few miles to the center of the town (which was very small throughough the dream) and found her sitting beside a fountain in a lounge chair, talking with two other guys. I told her I was thinking about leaving her.
[I woke up feeling a very physical sadness, like a heavy stone where the heart should be. I spent a few minutes trying to recall as much detail as I could before going back to sleep.]
I was living in this same small village but now it had dirt roads, and it was San Francisco, though it looked nothing like it. Even the roads were Florida roads, but I remember checking my watch and thinking about walking to the farmer's market, with the SF market in mind.
A few weeks had gone by since the suicide attempt. Something wasn't right. I was either taking drugs or not taking my meds. I had an apartment on the second floor of a 2-story building built entirely out of a pale, grey wood. In and around the shower, there were many bottles of different products, but there were 3 specific ones I needed to use. This was part of my medication, and I had a sense that the outcome would be very bad if I didn't use them and in the correct order. One was shampoo (with coconut), one was conditioner (with something red and grainy), and one was a face mask (with cement). I kept getting interrupted and spent the rest of the dream trying to finish my shower.
The rooms on the ground floor were all classrooms. A couple approached me and A, two members of a cult who wanted to recruit me. When they asked if I was "involved" with her, I told them "kind of" and A told them we were married, acting like nothing was wrong, like she hadn't said those mean things earlier. They couldn't recruit me because they didn't want her, so they asked about the neighbor. While the next room over was a classroom, they were talking about J, an ex-girlfriend of mine who had recently had a similar incident. I told them she's going through a hard time right now and it would be best if they left her alone, but they ignored me and went to talk to her anyway.
I went back upstairs to try to finish my shower. I was wearing something tight around my hips, a belt with 2 spikes on the inside that left deep punctures in both hips (lateral aspect) when I removed it. When I looked in the mirror, there was no blood -- it was like looking into a navel 2 to 3 inches deep. When I looked at my entire reflection, it looked like I was two people, one in front and one behind, joined but starting to separate at the puncture marks.
Downstairs, in the classroom, I threw a blanket over the chair and desk and tried to finish my hair. The white blanket looked just like the ones my brother, sister, and I had in childhood. We were learning functions, and this was part of an outpatient program. Today, we were going over the functions of 42, but "forty-heavenly-two" was written on the board, and the Tool song came to mind, "46 & 2", and then the theory that we will gain 2 chromosomes at the next step in evolution. While under the desk, I found a stack of pages inside the desk, all the notes I'd taken in that class written in very small handwriting.
J was calling me Radius, a nickname I had in early high school (in the dream; I never actually had any such nickname). Every time I tried to go back upstairs, she'd shout my name and it would take me a while to recognize that she was calling to me. Neither of us were allowed to teach, and the city council was trying to pass a law that wouldn't allow us to learn, either. I went into one of the classrooms with her and we sat at the back near a bookshelf, and discussed this.
Back at home with my wife, she gave me a child's toy with rows of flashing lights. I had some ability to change the color of the lights but they didn't look as vivid as they did on the menu. She told me to watch it and pretend I was on an acid trip and leave her alone while she watched television. I was annoyed and offended by this, and I thought that it was a stupid suggestion because I'd have to stare at it for 24 hours straight before any kind of hallucinations began from visual fatigue and sleep deprivation.
I wasn't allowed to listen to the radio. This also had to do with my psychiatric history. I snuck out of the house and climbed a roof to be close to the telephone and electric wires. I was trying to finish washing my hair while climbing. A Jefferson Airplane song was playing in the background. When I reached the highest point of the roof, I was a child, maybe 9 or 10 years old, and I had managed to rig the wires somehow so that I could speak into a microphone I was holding and have it broadcasted on the radio.
Emotions in my dream are often very dull, if present at all, or I'll have the thought of an emotion rather than the experience of it. I had very strong emotional reactions during and after these dreams. Text was clear and unchanging. Music was clear and sounded like the actual song.
Likely influences on the content:
My wife and I have been arguing a lot lately over a lot of big and little things. We think very differently. I'm mostly rational and take things very literally. She's very emotional and means something other or more than what she actually says. It occurred to me yesterday while folding the laundry that I would not be surprised if in the end, we can't make this work out. (We had been engaged for a year, then apart for two, before getting back together and getting married.)
Yesterday evening, I went to see a friend. His new insurance won't pay for half his medication, and I was trying to think of alternatives or ways his doctor could write the rx (like double the dose so that when they only fill half, he'll still have the full amount). We watched a candid camera movie fro the 70s and got around to talking about drugs, their therapeutic potential, and the influence they've had on culture from the 60s up to the present day. I wore one of my "Are you dreaming?" reminder bracelets and did frequent reality checks but didn't become lucid during the dream.
J was also institutionalized as a child. We met in high school. Last week, she was back in town after her attempt to start a commune halfway across the country didn't work out. We went to a book fair together, then to the house of a mutual friend, where she's staying while he finishes his master's degree in another state. I took her to the grocery store (she's unable to shop alone) and we spent a lot of time talking about past and recent decisions, what we'd have done differently, and where we wanted our lives to go from here. We didn't discuss our psychiatric histories but I wonder if her recent appearance might be the reason for the mental illness "theme" my dreams have had.
My parents used to warn people not to touch my hair, when I was a child, because people were always trying to move it out of my face (it covered my right eye) and I would get very upset when they touched me without my permission. I cut it all off right before the first hospitalization, and again during the third. I've been doing my own haircuts ever since, usually preferring to keep it kind of long but cutting it after big, stressful events. It's a very spiritual, symbolic act of letting go of the past (getting rid of the hair that I had during that time) and moving on. I think the stuff with the hair had to do with that, and I've been talking about cutting it for a few days now.