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.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Army Gal & A Creepy House

So this odd dream began on a flightline (Ok, so it actually started in a large house in which I was trying to train someone on auxiliary power unit operation, but could not find the right book... That is mostly faded and completely uninteresting, though). There is a female Army troop who is trying to load a 500lb bomb onto an aircraft by hand. I know that this is not the correct way to load the munition, so I take the bomb from her in order to do it correctly. I hold onto it for a moment and look around for the pylon to load it onto. There is no room anywhere.

The munition is extremely heavy and I begin to lose my grip. The front end of the bomb digs into the ground and bends the arming fuse upwards. This is bad, and I already begin to formulate a story for when the sh!t hits the fan. It mostly focuses around the woman doing her job wrong.


I am watching the Army female slide a row of 10 or 12 large ejection racks back and forth on some long curved rail system across the bottom side of an aircraft wing. She is trying to give them enough momentum that they will catch at one end of the rail or another, but they keep falling short, and sliding back to the middle. I know there is a better way to do this, but due to the previous incident I simply watch and wait for some catastrophe to occur.


I am back inside a large house. I am a part of a group of people who have done something wrong, and are about to meet the consequences. I make my way into the hallway near the front door of the house while two other people are being shoved into some sort of hand cranked presses in order to have their souls squeezed out (I don't know the mechanics of this) in order to be turned into golems. The hallway I am sitting in is populated by wooden creatures (the golems, I assume) that resemble totem pole figures. They are all brightly painted and clearly excited about the execution.

I know I have to get out of the house. I can see a friend of mine trying to break through the door from the outside, but every time he strikes the door it rebounds. I attempt to smash the window only to find that the entire wall caves in like elastic, bouncing back to it's original state regardless of how much I punish it.

I am becoming frantic and run through the golem crowd (who remain largely focused on the execution) and up the stairs to the second floor of the house.

I find myself in a dimly lit room with very few furnishings. I drop to the floor and feel around where it meets with the wall. The texture reminds me of a quilt. It is less elastic than the downstairs wall. I begin tearing at the fabric. A hole spreads open, and I crawl through only to find darkness and more fabric walls. I blindly tear them apart and continue on for some distance.

I finally emerge into what feels the the interior of the wall. I can see outside the house, but cannot yet get there. The house appears to be built upon thin plastic cups. I am having a very hard time moving, as if some magic is holding me back. I can feel the eyes of whomever is keeping me here drilling into my back. The eyes belong to a woman that I cannot remember.

I know that I have to knock the cups down to weaken her grip on me. I crawl towards the pillars and begin swiping my arm around clumsily. I knock a few cups over and a thick black liquid pours out. I begin to move more freely, and knock more and more cups over. The black fluid is all around me, but the magic is so weak now that I can crawl past the plastic cup wall and into the woods outside the house.

It is dark outside, as I struggle to drag myself away from the house. I dig my hands into the soft grass and pull myself forward; farther and farther from the tug of the woman's magic. I am beyond the tree line now and I can smell the fresh earth beneath me. My heart pounds as I look back at the house. I know that I need to somehow move faster before someone realizes that I am gone, and comes after me.


The sound of my son squirming in bed next to me wakes me up. I look at the clock and it is almost noon. I was supposed to be at work at 7:30! I jump out of bed frantically, and run to the alarm clock to see just what went wrong. I never notice that the room looks nothing like my bedroom.


I am scrambling up some eggs on what looks like a large grill that you might find in a diner, however it is in my kitchen. I am debating what I would like to add to the mix.


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