Dream Log for September 2017

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Date: Mon 28 Aug 2017

Lucidity: No

There was a hot air balloon. I was scrolling through dates and places, perhaps to make an itinerary for traveling in the balloon. 

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Date: Tue 29 Aug 2017

Lucidity: No

Poor sleep with hallucinations after 28 drops of Valerian. Saw night sky and stars and planets. Saw ghost tigles and threads as in visions. Woke to see the ceiling rapidly breaking up into dark and light spots that were surprisingly big. Rapid swarm. Finally slept. Had incoherent dreams of traveling to a mountain home where Aunt Judy and Uncle Roland were. Saw photos of Jill and I as children superimposed. Saw photo of Kerry as baby. Saw Paige at one point. Was at a conference table later with Stacey and two additional employees who were hired. One was a black lady named Carol. No one real. Stacey was scolding me for trying to hard at my job. There was an image of a yellow smiley face from the 1970s. It was associated with the mountain home and childhood photos. (Jill and I used to have smiley face cups in the 1970s.)

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Date: Fri 01 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

I slept from 3:30 am to 9:15 a.m. I lay still upon waking and know I dreamed entire scenes but all I could retrieve was that I or someone was fueling at a gas station outside Cherokee, where my son Kerry is going to play poker. So car traveling and mountains in the west. Oh, as I was first falling asleep I saw two weird things. The first was a huge purple scribble that scrambled rapidly through a subway station. The other was the head of a white cat that poked through the matrix at me. White cat was in some of my dreams last year. This one was the same cat! She is usually a dream sign to become lucid.

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Date: Sat 02 Sep 2017

Lucidity: Yes, faded to clear light

I slept from 1:30 to 4:30 and then from around 5:30 to 12:30. I recall nothing except in the morning hearing the bird totem and checking off that technique on some online chart. At least I am sleeping at night. I’m resolving to straighten out my sleep schedule.

Okay I read some Wallace passages about Atiyoga and then went back to sleep in the afternoon for another 90 minutes. I dreamed of the curmudgeon GOT character named the Hound. I was not part of the scene, nor embodied, nor Jenny identity. I was the same as awareness. But this awareness did start communicating with the hound, without speaking. The hound is a warrior skeptic, but in memory and the dream I had him conflated with the shape-shifter Jaqen H’ghar, who was a religious assassin who collected the faces of those the sect killed. The faces could be worn by him and Arya Stark to display identities.

So my awareness was telling the Hound that he was grumpy because he was traumatized by his brother’s burning his face when they were children but the way was beyond displaying new faces. The way was about taking off his own face. Right before I had fallen asleep, I had remembered what I told the ICY about J’s having no personality but only personality display. As soon as the advice went to the Hound, I became self-aware and the dream scene dissolved. I started moving through layer after layer of awareness to nonconceptual presence. I understood that I had just penetrated my own masks and was now naked awareness. The sleep continued this way until I rose to make coffee.

I’m not used to this anymore. When it happens it isnt easy to know for sure that it has happened.

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Date: Sun 03 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No, but did a (failed) reality check in the dream

I slept nearly 11 hours with phase shifted to begin sleep at 4:30 a.m. I used a new lucid/astral hypnosis audio that has binaural beats in the background. I couldn’t really hear the narrator’s words but the reverb was soft and dreamy. I fell asleep immediately. I had no sleep aids but Epsom salt bath.

I woke up midmorning and remembered no dreams. I changed positions after that and fell back asleep until 2:43 p.m.

Then I remembered rather jumbled dreams. I was taking Kerry to some clinic at a hospital campus, red brick. We waited for hours and they made us leave without being seen. It was their fault but I mustered patience and tried to reschedule, but the front desk girl, who was Asian with a short bob haircut, was without affect or bored and couldn’t care less. Finally the two chairs from my bedroom appeared and I gave them to her to resell so she would get us a real appointment. She then sold only one chair to someone and I was sad because she split the pair up. I never cared for those chairs, didn’t want them, but splitting them up seemed wrong.

Next I was in another sort of clinical setting and holding meeting with my sangha, the ICY. We were arguing semantics over some vocabulary words on a worksheet, and this task seemed a threat to the cohesion of the group, splitting us up. We decided not to have vocabulary homework anymore. Good idea!

Then I was driving to another meeting of the sangha, but took another longer route to our meeting place. There was a long winding road through a semi rural neighborhood. Barry was standing by the road with a headdress on of yellow feathers some of which floated off freely into the air.

Then I was suddenly on a shorter route to both Kerry’s clinic and my sangha, but Kurt was driving. I knew he was going to turn left in two more intersections. But I told him to take the first left. I told him it was Allison Street. And as we approached I decided whether the street name should be spelled Alyson or Allison. I decided on Allison and the green street sign said Allison clearly. I glanced away and read it again: Allison. I was trying a reality check but lucidity failed because I read it the same way twice.

Triggers for this dream are that Noah, who is a few years older than Kerry, separated from the chat forum of the sangha  (temporarily). Barry seems a little psychic and is a traditionalist mostly. The yellow feathers are Ratna energy, ruminations and worry. Alyson is one of my authors who was mentioned in an email yesterday, and Kerry was supposed to be a daughter we were going to name Allyson or Allison.

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Date: Tue 05 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

I had some wild experiences while doing two lucidity / astral projection audios with hypnotic suggestion, guided meditation visualization of becoming vast awareness, and binaural beats. There were moments when I felt altered but I don’t think I slept. I don’t trust the narrator yet, so some of it was a bit scary.

Past two nights I know I dreamed some scenes with my sangha, but recall was not good. I do remember telling them that the next point on the map was to lie down on their backs and float into these ovens. I could see a row of primitive ovens with doors open and waiting. Maybe because of Jim’s expression “baked in.”

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Date: Thu 07 Sep 2017

Lucidity: Yes

I abandoned western methods. I meditated, prayed, and traced the lotus shaped in a red light. Then I felt it in the throat chakra. 30 minutes into hypnagogia I saw a large white number 17. I became lucid and seemed to remember dreaming it recently, maybe even the previous night. The number was important.

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Date: Sat 09 Sep 2017

Lucidity: Yes

Afternoon when I went back to bed I quickly dreamed I was in the Village Deli and ordering lunch. I upgraded my side order to soup. They said my total was $60 and I said, “$16?” They said no, $60. I said “No, this is a dream because not even this place would charge that much for soup!” Because I was in Samsaric sleep and realized it, I aborted the dream and woke up. No other successes at night.

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Date: Tue 12 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

Yesterday dreamed I was breastfeeding Kerry as a baby and was happy. Today had fragmented dreams. In one part, Kurt was clearing single-handedly a large downed tree from the perimeter of a basin on whose edge we lived.

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Date: Fri 15 Sep 2017

Lucidity: Yes

I was in a flooding basement corridor and a steel door was lowering from above. Jim’s voice was shouting out, “There’s the threshold, Jenny!” I became lucid and then woke up. There were many such waking episodes. Toward morning the waking was into a remembered feeling of deep depression, almost suicidal. Hurricane Irma and family strife were perhaps triggers.

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Date: Sun 17 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

I had dreams I cannot recall, but I recall seeing a small bedroom with a double bed and telling and showing Kerry that Sharon used to have an equally small bedroom with a double bed and a twin bed. The dream was about comparative wealth.

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Date: Tue 19 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No, but successfully incubated (asked for a teacher to come into a dream and teach me)

I was gazing out on a meadow, with tree line in the distance. The scene was cold and late autumn. The grasses and tree leaves were all golden brown, vivid decay, going to seed as the Olds say of the fourth vision. I pulled out my cell phone and started taking photos of the field. I kept moving to a new position to optimize the capture of the lighting.

Then to the left I saw a slope down into an amphitheater. There was a musical concert happening. I knew J was there, even though he was far up toward the front. Nicole and his kids got up and passed me in the aisle as I moved toward him. I sat down in the seat beside him. He was wearing a brown blazer. His hair was long. He kept his gaze on the stage.

I said, “This isn’t my usual music. I like Radiohead.” He said, “Just watch and listen to the show without trying to capture it.” Energy from the third eye and the heart center was transmitted by both of us to the other and received by both of us from the other. I felt deep love for him. I felt safe. I felt seen and held even though he was still just gazing at the show and not touching me or looking at me.

Before sleep I incubated a dream to have a teacher appear and advise me on gaining lucidity in sleep. My teacher in real life is who appeared.

—-

Date: Sun 24 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

I am in some sort of group loosely gathered on a remote site or in a small town. It may be Buddhist Geeks conference. Sian from work is there, and we are discussing some review or marketing plan. She has to abruptly leave and I remember and remark out loud that she has four children and no wonder that she has to leave early. She says actually she has five children. I say that I do not know how she manages life.

After she goes I think how she is not trying to write a book and is not leading an intellectual’s life. I am comparing people and remember I should accept all people as buddhas.

I now overhear some conversation in which one conversant is saying she has academic degrees in three areas. She is a combination of Kathy Durant from House of Cards and Laurel Carrington from Awake Network. I notice that she doesn’t mention these are PhD and MS degrees. I am impressed with what she keeps secret and her humility as a kindness to others.

Now I am at a computer in the hotel lounge for the WiFi. I decide to post to the Dharma Overground and about what people keep secret out of kindness to others, or humility. I have three short posts in mind and I type out the first one although I cannot read the screen, which should have been a reality check.

Then I remember that I am banned from the DhO site and banished from the community. I think about using an alias to keep my identity secret. I remember that it upsets Daniel for me to post stuff that implies he is not fully enlightened. I make sure my text is nonthreatening to him. Then I decide to post under my true identity. I know this will likely fail because I am banned. I see Daniel’s picture showing he is online and vigilant. I click “Post” and wait for my post to be deleted by Daniel.

To the left of me, in the hotel lounge, a portal opens in the wall. It is a dark underground tunnel linking Daniel and me. I almost call out his name and wait for him to emerge. But instead I notice that we can simply feel the other’s presence and communicate telepathically. I let him know that the post is neutral and not personal but to delete it if it is not okay for me to post. There is no answer, but he leaves the post on the site. I post the next two in the same way. The topic is secrecy and openness, how each can be generosity, depending on the situation.

Now I am out of the conference hotel and in a grocery store. I feel my bare feet on the cool floor. It feels so good. I know it is normally against establishment rules to enter barefoot, but we are in some beach town where people enter in their bathing suits. So I try to break the rules inconspicuously by acting natural.

I fill my cart with old fashioned glass bottles of milk. At the cash register is an old man who forgot to bring enough money. He too is barefoot. I pay for my milk and when he isn’t looking I place half my milk in his cart and signal to the cashier that this milk of human kindness belongs to the man. Then I walk out.

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Date: Tue 26 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No, but did a (failed) reality check and had a false awakening, so close

I thought I wasn’t asleep when really I was. Then I (falsely) awoke at 9 a.m. I got up, dressed for work, and went to work. But it wasn’t my current job. It was a hybrid between my former job as a freelance copy editor and some ideal job I have dreamed of before. Denise and Sian from my current job were there, though. After a while, I vaguely sensed something was off about this reality. Eventually I did the reality check of trying to push the index finger through the opposite palm. The reality check failed because I couldn’t push my finger through and falsely concluded that I was in the waking reality after all. At 9:00 a.m. I really woke up and was stunned and disoriented to find that that the first awakening was false.

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Date: Fri 29 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

There was a house and a party there with various dharma friends and acquaintances. It was some all night party. There were various indoor and outdoor scenes. One was of being in a rowboat on a pond behind the farmhouse where the party was. The clear part was in the morning. I walked into the bright white farmhouse kitchen. Daniel was there facing the sink, maybe washing his hands, or washing dishes as he once told me he does at dinner parties. He turned around and I was standing right in front of him, smiling and lifting an eyebrow as if to say, “Well now what?” I half expected him to brutally cut me off. But he flashed his dimples, said something merely polite, and remained cheerful. We talked about how we were in general. After about 10 minutes he walked away and then left the scene.

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Date: Sat 30 Sep 2017

Lucidity: No

I am staying in J’s and Nicole’s home in Boston. The home is big and old with a lot of hardwood paneling and cool wood floor under my feet. J is out traveling a lot. Nicole walks around in a house coat and with her hair all tousled, uncombed.

I am comfortable there except that Nicole is a bit eccentric and disorganized (and therefore like me). The home ambiance is ruined by the fact that it is badly infested by huge Darth Vader cockroaches. Some even fly, and I have to swat them out of my hair. I refrain from killing them, remembering how J once spoke tenderly to a stink bug that landed on him during a Skype call. But then Nicole placed some scones she made on a hallway table and I was disgusted to see them covered with roaches that seemed to be throwing crumbs up with their hind legs and burrowing into the scones for fun. Nicole was fine with all this but I lost my appetite.

On the wide wooden landing I stood while Nicole was in taking a bath. Suddenly my dead father appeared in three dimensional form in front of me. He looked so young, so real. He was dressed in his suit from the 1960s and smiling at me. I was excited but I wondered if he were merely a hologram, because he was in black and white. I said to him, “Daddy, I dream only in color now. You are not real.” Then, although he appeared to be an electronic movie, he stepped off the round disc he was projected from and hugged me. I could feel that I was held by him and that he loved me.

Nicole came out of the bathroom, and the holographic image vanished. J was home from conducting retreats. He was bounding up the stairs. I went into the room to tell him what had happened, careful to step over all the disgusting cockroaches running riot. The couple knew of such hologram experiences and were nonplussed, but I had to convince them that this one could hug and therefore take on solid form. They finally seemed to believe me.

Dream Reentry: Vehicles, Maps, and Healing

Summary of First Dream Sequence

What I’m about to write is the dream sequel to the incubated dream from my last post.

After the sequence I audio-recorded upon waking, I went back to sleep, hoping for return to or expansion on the incubated question, which was directed to the masters, teachers, or ancestors, and sought, because I’m suddenly very ill with a strange vaculitis, to show me what I need to pay attention to for my highest good. The themes and images in the first dream sequence were as follows:

  • Autumn and nighttime at a rural fair
  • A decapitated jack-o-lantern head mounted above a written warning against sexual manipulation of gullible girls and women
  • Games of basketball with a warped ball that was analogue to the perfect moon
  • Advice from a father about my writing poetry
  • My teaching people how to start a white car with love and psychic knowledge

So I fell back asleep and had another series of rather brief and disjointed dreams, in the following order.

Collision of Black and White Vehicles

I am driving a white car through a western desert in daylight. The white car is exactly like the one I taught others to start with the Love button in the first dream. I reach an intersection and see a mirror image of my car, except that it is black. I assume that it will follow the rules and yield right-of-way to my white car, but instead it runs the stop sign and will smash into my car – except that I wake up from the dream just before impact. I vow to remember this dream, and then I go back to sleep.

Anger at My Teacher for Taking My Practice Mapping Journal

I’m in a big house that seems to be a place of dharma retreat and teaching. Other students are there. My teacher John is there, and I go into a room with him and sit beside him on the floor. I open a handwritten journal I’ve been keeping and begin reading a couple of short passages aloud to him. He says nothing about those passages. Instead, he takes the journal away from me and turns to the front, where I’ve drawn maps of attainments and made notes beside each attainment about where I think certain acquaintances of mine are on the map. He knows one of these acquaintances. I am angry at him for doing this. I rise, snatch back my notebook from him, and walk out of the home, quitting the retreat. I walk all the way home, alone. Then I wake again. I’m lying on my left side, and morning light is streaming in through an aperture across the room, in vertical rays. Then I fall asleep one last time.

Two Spirit Hands Healing Me While I Lie Lucid

I am aware that I’m sleeping. I’m lying on my left side. From a third-person point of view, I can see two white spirit hands come down from the heavens. The two palms of white light rest down on my right hip, whose extreme pain was a prodrome of my current illness. The hands are healing me. I am healed.

Before I went to sleep last night, and before I wrote out the dream incubation, I called upon Padmasambhava and White Tara for healing. I then did a short healing practice via akashic records. The final dream was remarkable and lucid.

The entire night’s dreams need to be sorted and evaluated in terms of the question that incubated them. I’ll do that later in a separate post.

Dream Incubation: Fair Warnings

At the end of this dream narrative audio, I mention that I’m going back to sleep to gain more information about its meaning. I did return to dream land, and I did have further dreams, one of which was remarkable, lucid, and literally healing me from current illness. I’ll post separately on that second dream sequence, and then I’ll post separately again to evaluate these dreams for what I can take into waking life to actualize their messages. 

Practice well, all.

Dream of the Heart Lamp on the Dark Path

I’m a little frustrated with myself for not adhering to my dream yoga practice, but I’m scattered and have been since September 2014, when I began working on MCTB2 with Daniel. After that scene exploded, I had a hard time winding down from it. I sought replacements for him and for the Dharma Underground, which I considered my ragtag sangha. Meantime, my teacher urged me to stop. He told me I needed to feel my losses. He told me that the real sangha is always already with me, to feel that, connect with that. He told me to pull all my energy back into myself instead of playing the Helper, that doing so would deepen my practice. And deepening the practice, finishing the Path, is Mission 1.

Only in the past couple of months have I begun to really withdraw. Now it is hard to do anything but withdraw. Dharma scenes are not my scenes. Although I can touch into scenes from time to time and enjoy other people there as friends, gone is the notion that any are going to enrich my practice. Honestly, very few are practicing at the level I am now. There is nothing to talk about, therefore, and my journey will be unique from here on, less subject to mapping than what came before. I cannot even write here about my main practices, not yet anyway. I’m keeping a private journal again. Maybe it won’t always be private, but it needs to be for now. My teacher is right, you see.

Moreover, I’m more and more finding that I need to be metacognitively aware of how I’m interacting with those seeking my practice advice. Sometimes people pretend to want help, but then they reject the straightforward advice and want to spend time verbally pushing back against me. In short, they are externalizing a loop they are caught in, perpetuating; they are projecting onto me one end of the loop. Funny – I now understand well how I did the same thing to Daniel on some occasions. And when he was like a Refusing Wall over and over and over again, that actually ended up being what I needed. I was thrown back on myself and the “no escape” of the here-and-now of suffering. “It always amazes me – the lengths to which people with go to avoid looking at their own suffering,” I still hear him saying.

For the past two weeks, I’ve wanted almost nothing to do with dharma, including practice. Incidentally, I injured my knee while sitting in half lotus, and that has been an excuse not to practice. I’ve suddenly wanted to excel at my day job, watch movies with my husband, drink vodka martinis whose recipes I create, and plan trips to historic Savannah. I’ve done so. I’m moving further inward, back into my very human life. Even my dream practice hasn’t been appealing: I’ve wanted only to sleep deeply through the night, plunging into that holdout of Ignorance. I know my teacher would approve, strange though that may sound.

The Dreams

Over the past week, on four or so successive nights, I had a series of dreams that were part of a single narrative. I remember little detail about any of the dreams, but they all concerned my planning a solitary retreat into the dark woods. In one I was discussing matters with my husband, who wasn’t sure I should go. I told him I was going, that it would be fine. DreamWalker’s young daughter was in another of the dreams and was significant, but I’m not sure why. It was as if I were going into solitary retreat partly for her sake. 

The climax of the dream series, and the clearest part, was my going before some kind of oracle on a throne before departing onto the dark forest path. I had my backpack ready to go. I put it down and looked up at the throne above me. I told whoever this oracle was that I was going to journey alone into and through the dark and that I needed healing. Suddenly, I was looking down at my open palm in which lay an amulet with a long cube-shaped perfume vial. The vial was filled with my own tears.They had been transformed into liquid light. I tied the pendant behind my neck, and the vial fell between my breasts, at heart center. The light it gave off was brilliant, never dimming. I bowed and departed on my lone journey.

The Evaluation

Given all that I wrote before writing the dream narrative, there is little about this series to evaluate. One point I want to note, though, is that the lucidity of the amulet was self-illumination of the dream: It was the one part of the dream series that I remember with clarity and sharpness. If I decide to explore this dream further, it will be to learn more about who the oracle is. I feel it is someone I know but who remained hidden, cloaked, while bestowing the gift that was already mine. It is a Wizard of Oz or a Glenda the Good.

Dream of Surviving an Airplane Nosedive

This morning I had yet another dream combining the theme of traveling with siddhis.

The Dream

I am leaving some kind of high school reunion and am hugging my drama teacher goodbye. I rush to my hotel room to pack, but I have to remember where I’m going. Ah, I’m going to meet my husband Kurt in Barcelona. I have to fly, which I used to be unable to do because of phobia. I’m trying to remember the rules about what I can and cannot pack for an international flight. I end up with three bags, which prove hard to keep up. 

Instead of driving to the airport, I drive to UNC Hospitals. It seems that I’m taking this special jet, not a commercial airliner, and two women nurses come out from a nursing station and change into pilot uniforms. I’m a bit nervous and ask them if they are sure they have the credentials to fly. They are relaxed and cheerful, and say yes. So we board this jet. I’m sitting in the back of the small jet. The two women are in the cockpit. And there is a middle-aged man sitting in profile at a desk between us. He is staring intently into a computer screen and typing. 

The man makes me nervous. I get up and go to the cockpit and ask the women pilots what this man is doing on board. They say he is a doctor who is getting a ride to Europe with us and that he is fine. I say that I don’t trust him. I’m trapped now, though, as the plane takes off. 

Oddly, the plane flies very low and along the highway. In fact, it flies so low that it dips under traffic lights. I look out the window at the sky above us and see these strange aircraft up there. They look like gigantic steel blimps shaped like hand grenades. They seem like alien ships from another world. I now realize that my pilots are flying low in order not to run into one of these strange aircraft. 

After a while, though, our plane starts climbing steeply. The man in front of me is entering some code into his computer. I’m uneasy about him. I somehow know that he wants to steal this grocery bag of goodies I brought aboard to take to Kurt. 

The man quits typing and hits Enter, and suddenly the airplane starts a vertical nosedive toward the earth. I realize that I’m going to die.

Everything goes black. 

Now I’m waking up to UNC Hospital surroundings, but I’m not in a hospital bed. The two women pilots are back in their nursing uniforms. I’m incredulous at still being alive. I run up to them and start frantically yelling at them to tell me where that man ran to, that he stole my goods that I need for Barcelona. I rush around, but he has escaped with my belongings. I ask the nurse why we didn’t die from the plane crash. The blonde one asks, “Do you actually remember the plane’s crashing?” I say no, but that it was obviously about to crash and that was the last thing I remember. She says, “You blacked out.” I say, “Okay, but that doesn’t explain how I survived the crash unscathed.” She says, “Well, yes, it does.” I’m trying hard to remember something. I ask her, “Am I dreaming?” Like a creepy Stepford wife, she simply repeats, “You blacked out, so you are fine.”

One of the things in the bag that the doctor stole from me was an old clunky phone which I need to call Kurt, who is waiting in Barcelona for me. I wait till the nurses aren’t looking and call him from the nurses’ station. I scream into the phone that these people I’m with cannot be trusted, to help me get to Barcelona. He says he will.

The Evaluation

This is another traveling dream. I suffered longstanding phobia before stream entry, phobias concerning traveling by car on the interstate highways and by airplane. This dream combined highway travel with aircraft and a nosedive, so it was pushing my most intense fear buttons. The dream was filled with mysterious people who changed costumes. The doctor was silent and was sabotaging our safe travel. The beginning scene was one about leaving behind my schooling, another constant from yesterday’s dream. Moreover, it was the drama teacher I hugged last, and the dream before the last one was about role-playing and costumes. 

The blackout was kind of like a “fruition.” I escaped suffering by leaving consciousness. It also reminds me of a conversation I had with Kurt last night in which he told me he has had only a couple of lucid dreams but can always wake himself up from any nightmare. Yes, that is the root of this dream! He was telling me last night over dinner that during a scary dream he simply says, “Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” and awakens. In my dream, I seemed to have practiced this by “awakening” back in the place of departure. 

Unfortunately, that asshole doctor still made off with my things. They are irrecoverable.