An open record of things people cannot explain

Place withheld · 2014-05-14 · from the DREAMVIEWS archive

An account

This lucid is from the morning of 5/11/2014. Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid Lucid #208: Carnival Chain I have a false awakening where Wife is bustling about the room getting ready for something. I am groggy and not seeing anything too well, but I follow her as she heads out the door. There is some kind of event that we are supposed to be getting ready for, but I have no memory of what it is. I do remember wanting to have a lucid dream, though, so I feel frustrated that I am expected to get up. I follow Wife for a bit and suddenly we are outside by some docks. She is dressed in a white sundress that I have never seen her in before, holding hands with our two children "E" and "R". She looks beautiful. I wish that I could go with them but I am almost too tired to move. I tell her that I am going back to bed, which she seems to accept. Somehow I stagger back to the bed and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I attempt to WILD. Right away I get the sense of motion and I cannot believe how quickly it is working. I go with the momentum and experience a moment of massive acceleration before emerging in a mid-morning carnival scene that I know is a dream. I am not pleased with the vividness of the scene, so I rub my hands together and then stare at them, trying to draw out as much detail as I can. It takes a few frustrating moments but finally fine details start to emerge. One oddity is that my hands are covered with cuts and scrapes like I have been fighting or working with something sharp. As the scene comes into better focus, I see that Wife is walking here with me at the carnival. We pass a sandwich vendor who stops us and begins an emphatic explanation of what it takes to make the turkey sandwich. He says that the "traditional" sandwich of "turkey on a donut" is outdated and that rye bread is the wave of the future. It sounds crazy to me, but I try to grasp the details, hoping for some flash of insight. It never comes, though, and the dream fades. I hold on for <PERSON>, and in a few seconds I am back in the carnival scene. I take a few steps but something seems to be stuck in my throat. I try to sort of gag and clear my throat, but it is still there. I feel like there is some kind of waking life problem and remember that I am sleeping on my stomach. I have this vision of the pillow pressing on my throat and in a few seconds, I am out of the dream. I flop onto my side, get ready for <PERSON>, and re-enter the carnival scene a few seconds later. Wife's here with me again, and says something flirtatious. I am feeling very interested, so we make out for a bit before getting down to some sexytime. I will spare the details here, but it is interesting that after the "festivities" the dream continues long enough for us to wander around the carnival a bit more. Finally the dream breaks, and I <PERSON> in one last time to the same carnival scene. Wife and I pass by a carnival barker who is inviting passerby to try out the "lucidity machine", a large, boxy contraption that he says is guaranteed to make you have a lucid dream for only "4 quarters". I encourage Wife to try this out. "But you are already having a lucid dream," she replies. "Yeah, but you are not." She wrinkles her nose. "Four quarters seems kind of expensive." "It is not real money," I tell her. "Please just try it." I am exasperated by all of this. Wife shakes her head and continues to skeptically study the device as the dream ends.

 

Has this happened to you?

Write it down while you still remember the details. We will look for the others.

Tell us what you saw

Know someone this happened to?

If this reminds you of something a friend or a relative told you once and never mentioned again, send them this page. Reading that a stranger described the same thing is usually the part that helps.

By emailBy text

Nothing is tracked back to you and nothing is sent on your behalf. The link is just the page you are reading.

This dream journal entry comes from the DreamViews research corpus (CC BY-NC 4.0), anonymised by its authors before release. We reproduce it with attribution and remove anything on request.