The Alternate Universe of pj

[pj]

Helping DrT Fragment

DrTechnical is doing something involving stacking things, and I'm assisting somehow.  He is trying to explain the importance of what we're doing, but I don't get it - which doesn't change my wanting to help.


Drink Mixing Contest

I am going to participate in a contest for mixed drinks.  The drink I want to present involves two raw eggs, butter, salt, sugar and vodka.  The rules of the contest say that all spirits will be provided, but we must bring everything else.

I carefully pack the two eggs in a plastic container, and put the other ingredients in small bags in a second container, then I begin the very long walk to the north side of town.  I get into the area, which is in the city of Southfield, and make my way to the newly reconstructed NorthWestern Highway.  I need to follow this south and east to the destination.

As I walk, I discover the old roadway still exists beneath the new one.  I slip down the bank and begin exploring and then walking along this now subterranean path.  There are people down here and even rooms built under the new roadbed.

I get near the building where the contest is being held and discover a tunnel leading to an underground parking area.  I start following it along and find a small kitchenette for employees standing open off to the side.  I decide to go in and check my stuff before checking in.  I dig out the two plastic containers with the ingredients and open them.  I find the butter has melted and separated, but sitting on the counter is a container on ice full of butter pats on waxed paper.  I grab three and put them in my box.

Then I open up the eggs.  As I do, yolk splashes out all over my shirt - the eggs are broken and scrambled.  Now my show shirt needs laundering and my eggs are useless.  I decide to not bother even checking in.

[Rainbow]

Omg that harmonica dream is the best nonlucid dream I've ever read. It is completely hilarious. It definitely equals my moon dream for stupidity, in fact I think it tops it given the final thought you had about teaching them to lucid dream. Love love love it. The emoticon was introduced just in time! Love the bit about people kicking people in the face. Lol.

Love Moonbeam's response too 

[pj]

Yeah. . . I felt pretty foolish writing that one up, but it is indeed a winner in that regard.

Maybe we should have featured epic failures to get lucid from time to time!  I think we'd all have dreams that qualify in one way or the other.

[Rainbow]

^^^ I was actually thinking that dream should be stickied somewhere. It seriously is too good to let it drift into the archives. That's a good idea. I've got a few terrific ones. Will share them sometime soon. Must go to bed now though as it's nearly 1am 

[pj]

I'll start a thread somewhere - maybe General Lucidity.

[Rainbow]

Couldn't resist digging out that crazy old lucid fail to post in the thread. Now I really am going to bed! See you in lucid land...

[pj]

Back from the north - one nearly lost lucid, couple weird dreams. . . notes for now.

Friday night CWILD - dessert shop lucid
Saturday - bad bording school, cafeteria, trying to get coffee, out in the street
Sunday - mom and Bert Lahr

[Moonbeam]

Dessert shop lucid, that sounds interesting. 

[pj]

Dessert Shop Lucid

(I decide to CWILD.  Had a mild headache at WBTB at 3:30 AM, took a full guarana.  Got lucid straight away, but then went into normal dreams and did not wake to get notes taken, so details are sketchy.)

I am at a bakery, trying to decide on the purchase of a fancy dessert try for a gathering we are having.  Somebody has purchased an incredible looking tray, but it is way too much for what we need.  There are probably a dozen different desserts on it, including pastries, cakes and tarts.  I tell the proprietor that I want the same thing, but with half the quantities of everything.

During the discussion, I become aware that this is a dream.  I do an RC to make sure, and yes, it is.  I jump up on the glass counter, then leap backwards and grab a blade of the ceiling fan.  I let it carry me around a couple times before letting go and smashing through the plate glass front window of the shop and out into the city street.

I fly.

[pj]

Bad Boarding School

(Another several day old dream - much detail is lost.)

I have been placed in a boarding school.  The administration and teachers are all evil and abusive, but subtly so.  It is like a grand hazing scheme to make everybody in there think they're crazy - or, more importantly, to convince their parents that their kids belong there.

I decide to escape after dinner.  Dinner this night is a huge special buffet that parents and siblings are invited to attend.  Lots of people are here and everybody is playing nice.  I eat and then decide to get some coffee, but all the coffee urns are empty.  I finally manage to convince somebody to give me a cup from a pot in the kitchen just for the staff.

As everybody starts filing out, I melt in with the crowd, keep my head down and make for the exit.  I pass a counselor's office with a family being told that their daughter is a nut case.  I make it to the front doors and out into the street.  I'm out!  In the street, in the inner city, at night. . . and I'm just a kid.  It's still better than being in there.

[pj]

Mom and Bert Lahr fragment

Mom knows Bert Lahr from when she was much younger.  I thought he was long since dead, but he's just very very old.  He comes to visit, and is still very entertaining.

[Moonbeam]

During the discussion, I become aware that this is a dream.  I do an RC to make sure, and yes, it is.  I jump up on the glass counter, then leap backwards and grab a blade of the ceiling fan.  I let it carry me around a couple times before letting go and smashing through the plate glass front window of the shop and out into the city street.

I fly.

   Good use of the ceiling fan!

[pj]

(Well - lucid at the very end. . . but a good catch!  DILD.)

Trade School Surplus

I am walking in the inner city.  It is midday, and the streets are crowded.  A street kid approaches me, begging for money.  He strikes me as different from the usual beggar, so I flip him a quarter.  He misses it, and it rolls under a bench.

He lunges for it, but doesn't find it right away.  I go over and look too.  Brushing aside some debris, I find a whole pile of coins - nickles and pennies.  I start picking them up and handing them to the kid.  They lead in a trail, and the denomination of the coins keeps going up.  Soon I'm finding dimes, quarters, half dollars. . . and then I'm inside a building.  It is some kind of trade school.  The room is filled with benches with shelves beneath, and the trail of coins leads to those shelves.  Soon we're scooping up silver dollars, then increasingly large silver items until we're trying to hang onto this huge pile of silver.  The kid scuttles off happily.  I stand up.

The tops of the benches are filled with odds and ends of apparently donated tools.  A lot of the stuff is being used by students, but the bench I'm at is unused, and some of the stuff has prices on it.  I begin to dig and discover a lot of specialty watchmaker and jeweler's tools.  I begin collecting it in an empty toolbox.  There's a lot of it - I fit all I can into the box.

I find the instructor/leader and carry the box over to him.  As I walk, I look around the room and see all different kinds of people about.  One big guy working in the corner is shirtless.  I think to myself that it seems inappropriately casual, but then realize that I'm shirtless as well.  I approach the instructor, apologizing for my casual lack of attire.  (I am wearing jeans and shoes.)  He looks at me with disdain, explaining that the other shirtless guy comes from a society where that is normal, but there is no excuse for me.  I apologize again.

I ask for a price on the box of tools I have in my hand.  He scowls as he digs through the box, then says five dollars - but it is too late today for him to be selling surplus donations.  I don't want to leave the tools and offer him ten dollars, but he says no, I have to wait until tomorrow. . . but there might be more in the back from the same guy.

I close the toolbox and tuck it behind a bench, hoping nobody will bother it.  Then I find a piece of paper and a pencil to write my name and number on.  I write out my first and last name and cell number, but then read it and see I misspelled my first name!  I erase and correct it, then notice that my last name is misspelled too. . . and my cell number is wrong.

I must be dreaming - but that's just not possible!  Nevertheless, I do an RC and sure enough, I'm dreaming.  I'm dreaming and I want those tools!  I allow myself to float about a foot off the ground, putting my head well above the guy who won't let me take the tools tonight.  He looks alarmed, reaches under his desk and pulls out a huge antique-looking rifle, leveling it at my chest.  "Get out of here," he says.

I roll casually around sideways, as if to float out the door, but then kick the muzzle of the rifle away from me.  I put a foot right in the center, grabbing the barrel at both ends and easily fold the gun in half. I flip back to me feet and ask again if he's going to let me take the tools.

And then I wake up.

[iadr]

I must be dreaming - but that's just not possible!  Nevertheless, I do an RC and sure enough, I'm dreaming.  I'm dreaming and I want those tools!  I allow myself to float about a foot off the ground, putting my well above the guy who won't let me take the tools tonight.  He looks alarmed, reaches under his desk and pulls out a huge antique-looking rifle, leveling it at my chest.  "Get out of here," he says.

I roll casually around sideways, as if to float out the door, but then kick the muzzle of the rifle away from me.  I put a foot right in the center, grabbing the barrel at both ends and easily fold the gun in half. I flip back to me feet and ask again if he's going to let me take the tools.

Awesome lucid pj!
"I''m dreaming and I want those tools."  (Beautifully spoken)
Grabbing the barrel at both ends and easily folding the gun in half.  (Great control and presence of mind.)

[Moonbeam]

(Well - lucid at the very end. . . but a good catch!  DILD.)

A very good catch!   

I roll casually around sideways, as if to float out the door, but then kick the muzzle of the rifle away from me.  I put a foot right in the center, grabbing the barrel at both ends and easily fold the gun in half. I flip back to me feet and ask again if he's going to let me take the tools.

Hey I did that recently too; I wonder if I gave your SC the idea!?  I think I might have gotten from a cartoon...