More of my dreams….

I’ve been falling  asleep listening to audiobooks for a while now.  Before my audiobook craze began, I had intense bizarre dreams beyond human imagination.  Most of my weirdest experiences happened while in dreamland.  But then I started listening to audiobooks and it all went caput.

Last night I decided to fall asleep au naturel.  I wanted to have a dream.  No audiobook, no distractions.

I was so tired, I don’t know why I was tired but I couldn’t fight off sleep.  The images started appearing the instant I closed my eyes and they would not stop for 2-HOURS STRAIGHT!

It was a concentrated onslaught of symbols, textures, people, scenario’s.  They kept coming no matter how lucid and calm I made myself.  One thing after another, I didn’t have time to focus on or understand any of it.  I couldn’t control it.

Things started getting dark and scary.  It turns out that my worst fear happens to be a mad man covered in blood running around with a chainsaw.

Worst fear ever.  And it’s not the first time he popped into my dream.  But it’s the first time there were several of them, not just one man with a chainsaw, but an angry mob of them.

And the chainsaw man never chases me, he chases other people.  My worst fear is not being able to help those other people.  My worst fear is running from him to save my own life.

The first time I dreamt of him, he was chasing a woman down the street in a quiet neighborhood.  I barged into someones home and grabbed their phone to call the police.  I yelled in panic telling them that a woman was about to be murdered.

My worst fear is nobody doing anything about it.  Not even me.  Because we’re all too scared.

Last night when I dreamt of the chainsaw man, I was lucid.  I knew it wasn’t real.  But I wanted to wake myself up to “reset” my dreamscape.  But I was super tired, my attempts were futile.  Slightly opening my eyes only for them to close again and I fell right back into the nightmare.  One of the images in my nightmare was a fish tank full of tiny men in black suits, all of them hanging morbidly from their own noose.  Instead of seeing fish, it was a tank full of miniature business men who committed suicide floating in water.

I decided it was best not to fight or control the nightmare, so I let the journey take me.  This decision changed the dreamscape to be less scary and it became one of my more regular lucid dreams of me seeking sex.  And I found the most handsome man – incredibly sexy.  No shirt, muscular, hair in all the right places and yeah, I totally orgasmed with him.

I have no idea how that’s even possible in a dream.  Nothing is actually touching me, but I’m hypersensitive down there when a dream man touches it.  I also don’t understand how in real life I hate sucking cock, but in my dreamworld I love it.

At one point in my dream, I was being pulled upward.  Up up and up I went and out of the tall building I was in, and found myself floating towards a ginormous dimly lit moon.  It was beautiful.  Most likely this happened after the hot sex.

I have lucid dreams all the time of me floating uncontrollably upward.  It’s never frightening.  The frightening part happens when I descend.  It’s not falling, but an accelerated gravitational pull down.

After getting a glimpse at the moon, I started to fall.  I was lucid, but this feeling always makes me want to wake myself up.  I decided to let it take me however, it’s not worth the waking up for.  I was just too tired.  Tired and curious to see where it led.  My curiosity out-weighed my fear.  At that point, I’ve seen so much morbid shit in my dream that I didn’t think it possible for me to see any worse.

How can I explain this…..it’s impossible to explain it.  Being pulled down, you go through levels of fear.  At first it’s no big deal, but as you go deeper, panic sets in.  The further down you go, the more panic and the more courage it takes to pass through it.

Last night I reached a new level of courage.

When I stopped accelerating down, an old man appeared in a grey purgatory-type of place and told me I reached a new level.  Then the dream went back to being ballistic, not making sense, and shoving one symbol after another at me until I said, “fuck this shit” and finally woke myself up for real.

I looked at the clock and it was 4:30 in the morning.  I went to sleep at 2:30 after trying to keep awake for one more episode of Game of Thrones.

2 steady hours of ballistic lucid dreaming with a short spurt of hot sex and a short moment in purgatory.  I was more tired than when I started.

I went to the bathroom, came back to bed and turned on my audiobook.  I slept like a baby until 11:00.

I went to bed last night wanting to dream, but there was such a build-up of them.  My dreams are never like that.  Like a chimp with ADD on acid.

But the part where I was accelerating downward, I intuited that it’s more important to go down than it is to go up.  Going down is where you find courage.  I always thought it was an evil place, an omen of bad luck and that I should fight it, to control my direction and eliminate my fear of it but I was wrong.  I was so wrong about it.  It’s not evil at all.  The journey down is definitely more important than the one going up.

 

Of course you have no idea what I’m even talking about.

I ask around sometime, seeing if other people have messed up dreams as much as I do and no, nobody does.  In fact, more than half of them never even had a lucid dream before.

I don’t get it.  I simply don’t get it.  The stress it put on my brain last night was intense.  Like a big knot looking in a thousand directions.  I wasn’t scared during any of it, I’m not emotionally imbalanced or depressed or anything like that.  It was like I was a voyeur getting a glimpse into someone else’s madness.  But how can it come from me?

Everything has been really peaceful for me lately.  Other than dealing with all the groupons (only 84 left to sell), I’m pretty happy these days.  So I’m at a loss.  My head still feels funky from it.  Like a physical kind of funky, not emotional.  Headachy and foggy.

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