Herein, I will attempt to archive my experiences with my dreamscape. You will find this journal filled with both normal dreams and, God willing, lucid dreams as well. I am not yet well versed in attaining lucidity, but that is not to say that I have not experienced it. Lucid dreaming is very real. I, too, thought it was a crackpot idea when I first heard the notion of attaining consciousness within a dream. I am very thankful that it piqued my interest enough to give it a shot. If nothing else, I hope that this blog can act as a source of inspiration (or at least entertainment) to it's visitors.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Bathrooms & Issues Parking

Forgive me for not posting the last couple of days, but most of my dreams have been rather bland. Today is no exception, really, but I'll type it out anyway for the sake of practice.

Normal Dreams.

I am in a movie theater, and someone is telling me about a guy who has folded down a few seats in one of the rooms, and has been sleeping there. I wonder if the employees have to deal with homeless guys in the theater often.

I enter the room, and recognize the man he was talking about (an old boss of mine). He has bags under his eyes and looks strung out. I wonder whether he failed to pay his rent while he was on vacation, and got evicted.


I am trying to use the bathroom in the theater, and all of the toilets are out of order. I know there is a second bathroom, and I head in that direction.

When I find it, there is a sign hanging on the door that says it is out of order, and to use the other bathroom (the one with no working toilets). I am pissed, and tear through the sign.

When I enter, I see that I am not the only one who ignored the sign. There is also an employee trying to mop the floor who looks clearly exasperated that we are all in there. I have no sympathy for him, and approach a urinal.


I find myself driving into a mall parking lot. It is snowing, and I am reaching the end of a parking row.

I attempt to slow down, and the car begins to do one of those two MPH uncontrollable slides towards a number of parked cars along the sides.

Having apparently lost my mind in this dream, I exit the moving vehicle, and begin attempting to push and pull the car away from any potential impacts. I tug the bumper in one direction and then the other as the car continually overcompensates. Eventually the vehicle bumps into the rear of another car before I can redirect it again. I grab control of the front end and finally slide it to a stop in an open space.

I check the front of the car for damage (while i'm looking at it the car appears to be on a lift, because I can see the belly while looking up, however it is still in the parking spot. DREAM SIGN!!), but everything looks fine. I am very relieved.


I am leaving the mall, and see that all of the snow has melted now. I get in the car which now appears to be a 60s style Mustang. The interior is completely white.

The car is now parked parallel on a hill between two other cars (even though I parked in a flat parking lot earlier. DREAM SIGN #2!! Where is my brain!!! ).

This would not be a problem, except that the dream is very realistic this time, and I am not familiar with the clutch (even though this is apparently my car). I worry about rolling into the car behind me as I feel it out. As it turns out, the clutch is shallow, and I lurch forward awkwardly onto the road. Everything feels very real, and reacts exactly as I would expect in WL.


I am at home (although I do not recognize the house at all. DREAM SIGN #3! Congrats, I'm officially retarded!), and standing around in my underwear for some reason talking with my wife.

The door bell rings, and I ask if she knows who it is. She says no, and I say I'll answer it.

I see a big pile of clothes on the floor, and frantically dig around for something easy to slip on. As I dig, I hear the latch come undone, and look for frantically for some pants. The door begins to swing open, and I grab whatever is in my hands and toss it on. It was a shirt, so I am still standing there in my underwear.

An older man walks in, and I say "Can I help you?!" obviously annoyed that someone has the nerve to let themselves in. The man is holding a box and asks if I can sign something (he is not distracted by the fact that I'm half-naked). I hear my wife walk in and say "I wouldn't sign anything for Fred." Jokingly. I realize this must be the mail man, and then everything is OK.


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