Dream Journal

Earlier in the night I shifted and my hand brushed Rebecca’s face and I apologized to AMY in my dream.

I’ve been paying attention while falling asleep and “under the veil” to the sound of passing cars. They sound muffled, distorted, and their passing seems to last longer. They last longer because I’m listening with more attention and thus time is more extended in that state.

The dream was a celebration and gathering of our friends, hosted by Joshua and Caroline at their place. It was fancy but reminiscent of dorm rooms. It appeared to be a collection of memories from all the inhabitants, seemingly built anew each night. We had lots of adventures and hanging out and interacting. At one point I could see my old room from Banana House, but it was actually a small narrow house across from and below us.

Then later on the scene became a railroad and we had to listen for trains coming from different directions (created in part by fears and expectations). The moment a panic took someone in the group, it spreads like wildfire to all of us and the danger seemed to increase greatly even though the trains didn’t appear more often.

Our sights were set on a goal — a government building with a vicious dog that could easily be calmed down by any act of will against it. I stopped it with some forks, and another kid stopped it with a spray can.

(not sure where this next part was in the continuity of Joshua & Caroline’s gathering)

So then, alone and outside the front door, I had another revelation: “Of course! This is a dream!” I ran all over, leaping with energy and excitement. I told everyone, not getting much understanding. I popped into a darkened room with some people and announced it to the people within but they didn’t hear.

One guy had a trick he was showing off — he made different coats flip up out of his pants when he tugged on his present coat with his elbows. His belief in his abilities made them work. I inspected the process. The jackets began as little grayish balls in the back of his pants by his belt, and expanded into fully formed jackets that flipped up onto his back and across his arms in a fully realistic-looking display of what by physical standards was an impossible act. I thought I could out-do him and, standing there in my underwear, I said “But can you just make something . . . from nothing?” and I hid my lower half outside the door frame and concentrated on making pants. I could feel the thought form whip up around my legs, enclosing them, but my surprise at the feeling of it broke my concentration and I looked down to see them receding. I tried again and didn’t bother to check this time and soon was pantsed. It’s the power of belief, pure and true, the kind passed down through the ages.

Then I went with Joshua to our beds — awkwardly placed near the ceiling in the front hall. He said something about being happy and I said “Doesn’t it bother you to be constantly monitored by the government?” This was something I knew much more about in the dream than in waking life. I leaned back and a sign went on in my head. It was in funky Japanimation-style text with yellow highlights, saying “Are you ready to end this life?” At first I was shocked, afraid, fear of death coming to mind, then a wisdom came over me. “There is no death,” I thought, and relaxed. “What can it hurt?” My curiosity took over and I said yes without words. The sign faded and I woke up, fully awake at what must have been 5:30 AM.