Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 10/25/2018
By petal
Two dream on two consecutive nights. Both non-lucid but the dreamscape is one I know and have created in lucid dreams. (Warning this is going to be a long entry) It’s a holiday resort/Island more Spanish in ambience than the Greek Cypriot, but the lay of the land is similar to an 90’s map of Paphos. I’ve contoured mapped the places in my subconscious. When I fly there in lucid dreams I see in as a cuboid grid as if it’s half construction 3D gaming map, even though I’ve never taught myself those kind of design computer programs. It’s also like a view from an airplane window, just not quite real and not quite complete. It’s also not part of a whole universe or world. It’s a sliced curved plain of land, with a little bit of sea and the edges are just empty grid sides on the edges. There are three river inlets that cut the land almost into three separate islands, one airport and mountains rising up at the back of the main towns. It almost like a 3D jigsaw piece waiting for me to add bits and finish the globe. Anyway first dream, I’m prancing about the resort like I own it. (Cause in truth, I think I’m it’s creator). I’m a lottery winner and I have money to burn doing what I choose. There’s some new pub buildings and tavernas that I hadn’t see before in the “old town” close to old fort and harbour. From up hight they looked like very square classical colonist architecture the kind of villas I imagine the Happy Valley set own in the 1920’s. Their was something purer more symmetrical about the wooden arches of the verandas, almost elegant simplistic rustic japanesie. I descend from my advantage point somewhere in the sky above and all of a sudden I’m at ground level and inside one. It’s a smart and sparse interior but with a surprisingly newness that I no way expect. The long bar counter is deserted and there isn’t much in the way of other furniture. I briefly note there are smart terracotta and black tiles on the floor, traditional but subtly modernist in effect. I see no people but I feel like there is some people there, invisible, mildly scathing and watching. It spooks me and I’m miffed that others unwanted are building in my resort. I go out looking for my own familiar haunts. I notice there are quite a lot of hotel blocks closely stacked together with narrow paths leading to the beach. I realise I’ve been dreaming these new additions over the recent weeks but have only just figured that they are new and not of my conscious design. I walk to what seems an untainted stretch of my resort wanting reassurance that “my place” is still my place. This island isn’t sacred but it was still something I thought was wholly in my possession. I see a shopping/accommodation high rise block that I’ve dreamed about lots of times before and feel some relief. I go in and tell the receptionist I want to go up to my flat. I have a detailed idea of what my luxury apartments looks like. I picture the foray on the higher floor as I step into the lift. I see my particular front door across the nice wood polished foray floor. The foray is neat 50’s style triangular with two other doors to two other flats. I know what’s behind my door and what I expect to find there. But as soon lift doors close, I know I’m in trouble. There is a small hatch in the lifts wall and I see the operators eyes behind it. They are male eyes that I know and I realise by getting into the lift I’ve put myself at his mercy. For in short time I feel as if I’ve step inside a Victorian arcade fortune telling cases, all wood and glass. I’m imprisoned with the slightly sexy, slightly creepy oracle, except he isn’t a dummy. He’s living and real smart and know more about me that I would like. He is one of the people watching me from the colonist bar and I also recognise him from real life. He sets the lifts destination and closes the peep hole. Instead of going to up the building the lift moves out over the beach of the resort. I groan because I see more of how my resort has been alter by someone else. It’s not my sole dreamscape any more and the man in control of the lift is bent on slowing me how much it’s changed and how he can take control, if he chooses. He doesn’t seem to particularly like me, but I’m a fascination none the less. The lift stops outside the building and picks up a friend and her husband. It’s changed from the Victoria glass case and is more like a futuristic public space shuttlecraft. I’m still somewhat contained. I can’t get off or out. We move to the edge of the beach but there is a new boarder of densely packed wood breakers. A wall of wood with unexplored land beyond it. There seems to be some kind of old art pieces there or defunct sculptural war defence early warning mechanism. I want the craft to stop but it carries on up and over the barrier. We are then traveling high over a much older ruined concrete resort. It’s that swamp in tress and thick green overgrowth. I can see the buildings are crumpling underneath the dense vegetation. It reminds me of deserted chinese city blocks being taken over by forest; pictures I’ve seen online. My friends saying to her husband “poor girl she can’t get off and he’s taking her somewhere she doesn’t want to go. It’s not a nice place. How can she survive it?” Her husband replies “I know but what can we do?” They are stuck on the space shuttle also and if they speck out the man could also deposit them into the rough environment. They definitely aren’t going to risk that. My compartment brakes off from the main shuttle and I can see I’m going down a very narrow gap between two dirty dark ruin buildings. I’m shouting no! no!and banging on the glass in rage and distress but there is no way of escaping and some how I know the man enjoying my alarm perversely. The cubicle stops on a high floor and the doors open. I can see the sea along the gap but there is no way down for me to swim back to my main land. I have no choice but to step out onto the crumpling mossy building and look for a place to hide. I don’t even know if the concrete will not crumble when I step out from the traveling cubicle. The building seems huge and dark with no working facilities. I look down but all I can see is the dark waters of the sea flooding between the buildings. I don’t know if I will ever find a way down to water level. I’m guessing there is not easy though route via the crumbling building. I can’t see myself finding my way back to my resort and it not my resort. Again I remember with outraged resignation that my resort has some how been infiltrated anyways. I wake up annoyed and bewildered at why the man would do that to me. Second dream the next night. I’m still in the knackered old building but I’ve found myself a safe room of sorts. It’s on the same level as where I was dropped off and I still feel imprisoned because I don’t think I can walk of climb through the building. I think it will be too dangerous, as there is bound to be many rips , tears and broken chasms in the clapped out mess of a prefab. If I go out exploring it’s only going to lead to scary hazardous uncomfortable nonsense. I’m going to run out of dream lives by falling through sharp holes. Who wants a dream experience that bad I think, even though I’m not at all lucid. The rooms not so bad. It’s isn’t as cold, damp or grimy as I would have thought. There is a old fashioned lamp stand with an old fashion Victorian shade working. The shade is dark red heavily swagged and fringed in decedent embroidered silk but it gives off a gold glow. In fact the concrete walls and everything else in the room also has a nice gold glow from the light. The room still has the slight air of a kinky dungeon or posh tarts boudoir of some nasty porn film or erotica. The walls are rough and the urban atrophy style uncompromising. I’m mad cause I know the man has deliberately put me there cause he see right though me and knows what I secretly like. There isn’t anything overtly extreme about the room, but i know the bed I’m sat on has masculine ornate black railed headboard and footboard. I don’t want to look too closely at any of the other stylish furniture in the room because it all a bit suspiciously shaped and padded for multi-purposes. I wouldn’t look in any of the shinny lacquered draws, chest or cabinets or what’s hanging in the walls for a similar reason. I’m grateful kind of that I’m not wearing anything too risqué. I seem to be gowned in some kind of elegant chaste Pre-Raphaelite gown, not my choice but his. He wants me waiting demurely and that’s annoying as f@&@. I decide I’m not having any of it and I’m going to escape no matter how bad the dream gets, cause it’s all highly inappropriate and I’m too old for this s@&&. So I walk out of the open doorway, that has long since lost the door into the central corridor of the building. I’m expecting a dirty passageway with deep sharp holes dropping to the swampy sea that flooded the buildings basement but instead I find a bright long concrete corridor the same golden hue as the room I left. As I start to walk along it , I realise it’s far worse but in a different way. There is a long gallery running above and along the whole length of the corridor and there are guards walking along it watching my every step. I know they won’t ever let me escape and will report all my movements to “the man”. The corridor is just getting longer with every step and even though there are rooms on both sides and at regular intervals they are all empty bland spaces with open broken windows that let in cool damp sea air. I can see right into the next apartment block and it’s exactly the same, empty and ruined. I could step from one building to another but it would take weeks to come to the edge of the city. If I go into any of the rooms I just see more random kink furniture or rush or rubber matting. Even if I get to the end of the long building I will have to make a hazardous jump into the sea from a great high. It will be a long swim to get back to the safety of the resort. The resort has been taken over by Unknown’s. The guards watching will likely try to stop me at any rate before I get to open sea or even air. They will drag we into one of the rooms for rough punishment sex at the slightest provocation from me. They are just waiting for me to make a wrong move. So I turn back and go back to the room he has set out for me, where at least I won’t be molested. I sit back in the bed with my head down and my hands in my lap. I’m ashamed to find myself in the stupid shameful place. I should know better, but at the same time I find it cosy. The man comes in and kneels by my feet. I know it’s not a submissive or repentant gesture. He wants me to look him in the eyes again; those glassy healthy eyes that see all too much; bright eyes with shiny clear whites and acute focused pretty pupils. He says he has three things to ask of me. The first is that I get my health check as I’ve been putting off. The second he says is to look up and write that post about... I can’t quite catchhis words but I think it’s something like the Cerulean State (which I later realise is a tune I’ve been listening to on Soundcloud) or the healing of the Vargas nerve or the chi flow/Circadian cycle clock. I say fine, whatever, I could do that. I looking into doing that at anyways. He seems pleased. The he said “and the third thing...” and he deliberately stops talking. He reach his hand to mine. I knew he means, what men naturally what from woman; love, genuine affection and sexual appreciation but I don’t quite know if to believe it, if that’s what he really wants. I know I have to look into those clever eyes to see the truth. And when I look he will see me. There be no hiding. He is challenging me to do so. But I don’t want to. I’m scared. He waits, so I reach out to cup his chin. I aim to position his face so when I look, I really will see. There won’t be any doubt one way or another. But of course it’s a just dream, and a dream couldn’t tell me those kind of things. When I looked up, I wake. Oooh! Strange, merciless dreams full of awkward insight, inquest and needless daft frustrations.