| RavenBlog |
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| Comments on Wednesday 6 February 2002: |
| The other night, I had the most deeply nested set of dreams I've had (at least with remembering detail). The first involved a person squawking inane argument at my wife, in a supermarket-like place, while I was in a nearby room. The sheer volume and stupidness of the argument enraged me, such that I charged at the offending person with intent to appear to be going to be violent (ie. to be scary). She ran away, screeching, and people started accusing me of wife-beating. Pointing out that this nasty person wasn't my wife didn't help matters. And then I woke up, because there was a spider crawling on me; a spindly thin-legged white spider with a huge translucent abdomen. I shook it off. Another spider, alike, dropped down from the ceiling, towards my torso; I caught it, and threw it down beside the first. Then I noticed there were two more, one on my arm and one on my leg, their steps doing that annoying tickling-itching thing that insect and spider steps do. And then I woke up. My wife was next to me in bed, and I started telling her about the spider dream (which had taken place in that same room). On the door of the room, now, however, were five cartons of orange-juice-powder, in exquisite detail. If I'd been asked when I woke, I could have drawn the logo, though I couldn't now. Half way through telling the dream... I was woken by the bedroom door opening. It was my wife, returning from her trip to San Francisco. I was disoriented; the room was different, lighter, and the bed was further from the wall on my side. This, however, was no longer a dream. Unless I'm the butterfly. [11:44] |
| Stefano |
| How amazing. I know another person who's always very lucid in dreams, and always wakes up thinking "this can't be true, I must be dreaming" !! |
| Kevan |
| I frequently end up talking about dreams to people in other dreams, a day or two later. "It's funny I should run into you like this, Mr Self, I dreamt only yesterday that I was discussing my dreams with you." Frustrating, but entertaining. |
| Eperdu |
| I have a tendency to wake up in glorious moods, throw on a robe and run downstairs eagerly to try out that fantastic time travel device of mine. Or lie contented in bed for sometimes as long as ten minutes, smiling to myself as I contemplate how wonderful my life is, what with this vast amount of riches that I have. And the delicious lady wife of mine, who must be out. Of course, the realisation that I am poor, the lady is in fact some goodly acquaintance of mine and the time travel device has no batteries (aha) is always a crushing, terrible thing. Fucking dreams. Are good, too. |
| bridgehajen |
| Once, after camping for some four or five days at a music festival I got some nasty nested dreams. At that point I have had far too much alcohol and too little sleep. The music hadn't even started yet, so daily life was kind of a blur. I my dream I would wake up, dead tired, stumble out of my tent, open a lukewarm beer and chill out on the ground while trying to follow the conversation. Then at some point it would dawn on me that I was actually just dreaming and I would wake up in my tent. The routine repeated, infinite loop-style, maybe four or five times. When I finally woke up, I was pretty freaked. Ironically, I then stumbled out of the tent, opened a lukewarm beer and chilled out on the ground. |
| Shamu |
| I'm in a bad dream. |