The first lucid dream I ever had was a nightmare. It was at a sleepover at my best friend in childhood, Peter Tonkin’s, house. There were shapeshifting aliens menacing my mind in that nightmare… but I noticed a trick as to how to spot them (the object shape they took on would quiver slightly)… realized I was dreaming… and took control, killing a few of the aliens and eventually waking myself up.
Yesterday afternoon I took an hour nap, and this is what I saw:
I went into an office building and I was looking for a certain office but I decided not to go in, so I got on a train (red line?) and there was some sort of medieval fair going on in Boston. Catapults slung rocks that broke up constructed fake houses or missed their marks and blew up plumes of dirty water. That train accelerated in order to avoid the pyrotechnics and morphed into a gokart that I was steering by leaning, my thumb controlling the throttle. A train swerved into a path adjacent to my gokart and I could see the gears and wheels whirring, very fast and powerful.
I drove the gokart up to a concrete embankment on the bank of the Charles River to park it. There was a concrete ramp and I pretended I was going to drive it off the ramp but the parking director stopped me by saying no. I disembarked only to see my father and his sister, my aunt Maureen, passing by the gokart parking place. I put on my green sunglasses and knew they couldn’t see my eyes. Dad walked past without saying anything to me, but Aunt Maureen stood there yelling into the wind. I could see her mouth moving but could not hear her words over the loud noise of the trains, gokarts, and medieval fair. Eventually she gave up and followed my father, evidently to go to the medieval fair.
Down on the esplanade a group of superhumans (angels?) played footbag. I sat down on the hill above them by the gokart ramp and smoked a Pall Mall, watching them. They threw the bag hundreds of feet into the air and played it in a Matrix-blur of frenzied kicks, contorted their bodies & feet beyond the bounds of normal humans, never letting the bag fall. Every superhuman was a different ethnicity and had a different style of play. A rotund superhuman in a black teeshirt approached and brought me down to play with them. They had set up a net by then and I was to play on a team with the kind one who invited me. The serve went hundreds of feet into the sky but I bumbled it badly upon its return to earth. Embarressed, I began demanding someone to explain the rules to me, but was ignored, so I walked away, disgusted.
“Do you play?” asked the kind one, following me. “I like games…” I began to answer, then changed the subject. “I always see you here…(realized that “here” was a dream, my mind, I became conscious) do you live in Boston?” Before he could answer a bald superhuman approached us angrily, yelling in my face how I was all about money and couldn’t play the game. “I work two jobs,” I told him defensively, “I don’t have time to practice.” The kind one pulled him away and separated us with his massive arm, turned him away so that all I could see was the black back of his teeshirt. I yelled, “Peace!” and threw the peace sign out around the side of his body. I walked away and when I looked back they were grinding in piles kneading one anothers buttocks and upper thighs.
I forced myself awake. Lying in bed I decided that the near-fight had been so traumatizing I’d be okay to smoke a cigarette in bed, in my room, to recover. I lit one up and stared at the window, which was glowing orange. I looked down at the carpet and it was luminous orange. I got out of bed and followed the orange path down the wood stairs to outside. Black children were playing in the neighborhood, I saw one of their mothers at a front door across the street. A huge expressway curved above the houses, obscuring a giant orange sun. I knew where I would be if I went under the expressway, so I willed myself awake again.
I popped my consciousness out of the dream state, struggled up through several layers of sleep. At the top I could only see red, everywhere, as if my vision was a red Windows background. Then, upon focusing, I could see thousands of tiny donkeys wearing yellow scarves, and my eyelids began to open for real.