Tag Archives: dream journal

Last Night [FREE WRITE]

28 Dec

Dream Journey

Dreams are limited by the dreamer’s conscious experiences. Senses inform consciousness during the waking day; consciousness informs senses during dreams.

A sensation, that is, a fully integrated internal inclination, a feeling, fills in the blank slate of logic like a white canvas oozing bold colors.

Third morning of sickness within the past week. Today I leaned out the side of the city bus, relieved my sickness, and sat back down inside the bus. Another time, I woke up a fingernail past sunrise to do reike and yoga with a friend before he left for break. We spent most of the time talking. There, in my front yard before 9 am, I started dry heaving nothing, nothing, something– definitely not food but I definitely was sick.

I had my fingerprints scanned today, all ten. Apparently, I only have 9 fingerprints. one refuses to register.  The livescan man digitally re-scanned it time and again until, finally, I am under the impression (not punny) that we just settled.

9 fingerprints. 3 mornings of sickness. A sensation. A reality? No, but the appearance of a potential.

Interim Dream Journal

27 May

Lucid. Gradually, Lucid.

The dream began through my eyes in first person narrative and I died.

Dying and reawakening was confusing because when I came back to (from a coma in the hospital), I remembered being dead and through trying to reconnect and capture the memory of my death, I began to a crew all meta-cognitive functions while still in my dream. My perspective shifted from first person to their person, where I saw my body, had seamless access to the thought inside that body that were simultaneously flowing in my mind, but I was a soul and had no finger to point at lack of body. I relived the scene of my death. I was lucid and I knew it.

The dream felt like a thousand years long. I chose to relive the scene of my death and the aftermath of the hospital and then revisit the scene of my death again to face my fears of going back.

The dream took me to the ocean. There was a log floating in the middle of the ocean where we (self, brother, and people who I have and do care about, past) were swimming and splashing and playing. People started to leap on top of the floating log and shuffle across, jumping before it vanished into the vanishing horizon’s drop off. I was alive and loving the admiration of wide sparkling eyes  and up turned heads and the balance, speed, fearlessness and courage I challenged the task of the log with. Glowing, the admiration made me feel capable and I believed in my ability to soar. I went fast and fast across the lumber, saw there was an end to the horizon and while all the voices were shouting cautionary warning at me, I leapt and everything faded to black. Eternity. I vanished. I dissolved, I absolved, I dissipated, Everything I was and Nowhere and in no time I was particles drifting and humming on a melody with the ocean mist blowing where I desired, I was peaceful and peace.

I awoke in my drea in a hospital bed. My brother mom and dad were around me and I was confused and tired and in pain and like the IV attached to my arm, I gained memory slowly like dripping nutrients. They said I had been out for a long time and had gotten a concussion jumping over the edge of the oceans horizon. I said that’s not what happened, I had died and came back and jumped into the darkness and I floated. We returned to the scene of the incident, and I got back in the water. At this point I knew that I was dreaming and I relived the memory of my death (the dream repeated with meta-cognitive function and perspective). I was lucid and chose to stay in the scene and investigate its depth and beauty from all angles. I was in the ocean, just having awaken from a coma, and thought about why I came back here if I could go anywhere. I thought about the admiration for me courage that the others gave to me. I beamed. I loved that feeling, again. I relived it, again. I thought about the feeling of challenging borders and limits and the adventure f fearlessness against the body. I thrived and glowed. I was back for that, again. Is this ego Is this alive? whatever it was, I love that feeling, and I will chase it until the day I die. In the ocean again it was more difficult to swim as my limbs were weak. I called out for help and attention and there was a system of friend to support me and bring me to a boey. One person checked my legs to see if they were tired from treading water. They were not. I had reaffirmed my ability to continue on. I reached the horizon again and looked at it from al angels. My brother was there with me, beside me, the entire time. This time I saw that jumping over the edge may kill my body but I would not die. I exhaled salty ocean air and inhaled from sunshine. I awoke.

Edit: Walking home in the rain today. A red crack of a black light burst and ripped through the scene of for a millisecond, the illusion of the world, gray, bleak, wetness and slabs of cement sided with forrest and flowers, drained and disappeared. I look around me for passing cars or some easy explanation for the glitch. Answer sounded in rolling thunder about ten seconds after I begged the curious question. Like a jolt,  forgotten fragments of the above dream revived their vision and reclaimed life from the hallows of buried memory. They go as follow: there were three distinct bodies of water in my dream. A) a swimming pool, where a girl I casually know shared her swim teams challenge, how she had to tread water for four hours after the race in order to be an elite racer on her swim team. B) the aquatics center I played in as a kid, with huge slides and pseudo-tidal waves and C) The Ocean, where my first attempt upon recording the dream narrative began.

Lucid Ocean Dreamer

nightmare

13 Feb

wake up from living a lucid nightmare. Conscious but unaware, we are the living dead. We produce we consume we resume you are sleeping you are waking only to eat some supper when sun down dawns dusk over break fast from the day before two tomorrow’s future.

haiku

1 Feb

dream journal hard–>dsylexia worst right after wake up jammed between toothpaste and running to early math. dream haiku so i remember:

voices cloud the sky

rain pellets of murmuring

paranoid awake

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