Damn it, not again

So I keep trying to get into my dreams and become “awake” in them and be lucid and clear and learn to control them.

(it’s particular to the Pacific Northwest to start a sentence with “so…”)

Last night, after the baby woke up umpteen times, which is actually slightly beneficial because I can prod myself to remember my dreams, but can also be cumbersome because I DO remember them in the middle of the night, but not in the morning. And what I do remember becomes fragments and is very frustrating.

For example, last night I had a dream where I was in a neighborhood running around with some other people at night. Not sure who they were, and I think I was on a skateboard for some of it. But we were basically terrorizing these poor, comforted creatures in their gated community, so some burly beefcake escorted us out. There was actually a lot more to the dream – lots of jumps and cool skating moves that would paralyze my aging, 35 year old body and probably herniate a few more discs.

Then the dream was suddenly a trek up a really steep hill. As I was waiting in my car, I could see the line of vehicles ahead. Suddenly, they were all pickup trucks that had no problem getting up the hill. Then, just as suddenly, I was in a pickup truck and going up what appeared to be a 100% incline (45 degrees). The gravel was loose and I was having a hard time. But then I remembered I was in a truck so I shifted into 4WD and made it the rest of the way.

But at the top of the hill were people on snowboards going down man-hewn dirt half-pipes and coming out the other end. I didn’t want to do it so I looked around a bit and decided to go straight through and do a little hop out the other side and land at the bottom of the hill. I wiped out but laughed, and got some derisive looks for not taking it seriously enough.

The bottom of the hill was the edge of the recess field from my elementary school, Pine Glen. I remember that me and a friend used to pull up the crabgrass because it always came out with big clods of dirt hanging to it, and we would throw those at people. Man, I was always a little shit!

So the interesting part is this, if you’re still reading… I actually had a dream where I was awakened freshly out of THOSE dreams and was writing down what happened. Some lady was coercing me to hurry up because something urgent was happening and we had to go. I was insistent that I write something down, so I was writing a few words and explaining to her that these would be sufficient to jog my memory later.

So I was dreaming that I was awake, freshly out of another dream. Which brings up all kinds of cool questions like “so was I dreaming that I was dreaming? Does that mean the dream-me dreamt it and not the real-me?” and “if you dream that you’re dreaming, is your subconscious trying to spill over into your conscience? Or trying to supplant it? Is this really just a clever twist on the Matrix? Am I just a coppertop?”

So I know that I want to “wake up” in my dreams, and that’s exactly what my tricky little head did… only what I meant was that I wanted to be conscious and manipulating the dreamscape. Caught myself in a technicality.

I remember 1 words that I wrote down to myself: “skull.” I don’t know what the heck that has to do with the price of tea in China, but that’s what was so important that I had to write it down.

Skull.

I had a few more dreams, of which I remember fragments only, nothing interesting enough to write about or to provide insights into my matrix of axons and dendrites.