Morning of January 8, 2014. Wednesday.

This is one of those "glowing" (or “glow”) dreams (I use the name, as it reminds me of the song “Glow Worm” that my father used to perform, which also used the word “glimmer”) - a type of dream in which everything (even people) seems to be translucent and having light within as well as a viable sensation of bliss and pleasure (both physical and spiritual) - a sort of residual “glimmer” effect in consciousness even for about twenty minutes after waking. These dreams usually seem more multicolored (or of “wrong color”) than so-called ordinary dreams as well. I usually have at least one of these a week since earliest memory but they are often too detailed (or “epic”) or elusive to write about online.

There are two sections to this “glow dream” - the first section relates to being in an unfamiliar seafood restaurant after hours which has about five round tables in one area (although the chairs are not turned up over the tables as would likely be the case in real life if closed - or perhaps I am the janitor and have not completed my work yet). There is an oil painting in a fancy wider wooden frame on the wall, seemingly from the 1800s and of a lobster (recurring). I am trying to determine if it is holding carnations in its claws, as I am not fully lucid (but perhaps twenty-five percent aware). An unknown female is to my right, possibly a “higher entity” or self-reinvented tulpa, though her eyes are copper-colored (slightly shiny and “vibrating” like a “jumping mirror”) sometimes more towards scintillating orange, almost with an unusual revolving and morphing effect (this seems to be directly related to the “kaleidoscope eyes” effect that John Lennon wrote about in “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”). I become aware of a very complex (in terms of the weave) cloth that makes up her white dress, somewhat like a herringbone pattern but with implied alternating directions. There seems to be tiny silvery “flashes” in certain threads here and there, somewhat like the effect of fish scales in sunlight. “Lobster,” I say casually. “What does it mean?” I am speaking more to myself than anyone listening in. There is a sort of feminine giggle, which I realize is my wife - as related to a cassette tape of about twenty years ago (which I listened to again recently), which brings a very blissful sensation, body-wide.

After a time, I find myself in an area outdoors on a white sand beach, but near a jagged bluish-gray (almost metallic) boulder-based area to my right (when facing the ocean). It seems to be near an outdoor restaurant or resort, but the two larger rectangular tables are unlikely set out fairly far from any building and “too close” to the ocean, perhaps (compared to how it would be in real life). I see a very pleasing feminine form moving towards me. It has the “standard” glow dream property of showing several frames of movement at the same time, sort of like moving holographic images superimposed in a linear continuity. Each form seems to be wearing a different erotic outfit (some extremely complex and jewel or tassel-covered) until it stabilizes. It turns out to be a younger version of my wife in a hula skirt (and a lei) of all things, so I assume we are in Hawaii. “Lobsters,” I say, raising a glass I suddenly find in my hand. “Lobsters,” she affirms cheerfully. I focus on lobsters…

Soon, we get our “lobster”. However, it is not actually a lobster but a waist-high sort of dingy robot with hook hands held out horizontally in front of him (for some reason, I get fleeting impressions of a person in a wheelchair with this scene). I get a very strong impression that the robot is confused (but somehow fully human) and that the hook hands represent his status as being in “question mode” - the hook hands (darker/”dirty” silver) being just like question marks - which come out from a larger grayish “arm tube”. These thoughts and realizations last for quite some time, at least five minutes or more. The poor little robot meanders around. It approaches my wife and tries to touch or pull her golden and white lei (which matches her golden and white variegated hula skirt), but cannot come anywhere near reaching that high. It makes very odd baby gurgles and puppy yelping sounds, but with very metallic and hollow tones, reminding me vaguely of R2D2 from “Star Wars”. It continues to meander around and bump into tables (sometimes backing up and bumping into the same table several times as if malfunctioning). We laugh about its random and “confused” state.

I realize more fully that its intent is to express itself in a somewhat diluted “average human” way and it wants to write a revisionist history of me, its “target”. I feel no ill-will as such (though I sometimes do, depending on the environment and in-dream mood, but in this case, it is hard, if not impossible, to be annoyed while in a state of bliss), and even show it to a table and hand it a pencil from the drinking straw (red and white candy cane style with that “accordion-bellows” section for bending down) holder.

“Gack gack gack gack gack,” it writes neatly (but in all uppercase letters). “That’s nice!” I pat the robot on the head and it “barks” and “gurgles” out of seeming frustration of not writing what it intended. It continues to write “gack gack gack” over the page (it is holding the pencil with the hook hand and a thinner section that comes out from the bottom of the tube arm for grip and reminds me of an old-style metallic adjustable table lamp). Finally, it wiggles its arms and leaves the table and “barks” in more loud frustration. Soon, its head seems to be a small model observatory and a telescope comes out and moves about as if it is examining the sky. “It’s spacing out,” affirms my wife, followed by laughter. There are about six other people around, male and female. The robot staggers around - reminding me of a typical drunk in public in their usual discombobulated or drunken stupor that I see all the time on my street.

Finally, I am served lobster on a bed of lettuce. The poor little robot comes over and starts throwing an electrical tantrum, because the lobster is his “brother” (I make the main association with lobster claws and the robot’s hooked hands as well as the exoskeleton). He begins to emit thin smoke, somewhat like the smoke from a cigarette and “barks” and “growls”. Everyone laughs. “This robot thinks it is part of nature and is as far from nature or natural consciousness as something can be,” I say slowly, after about three or four practice attempts. The robot gets very “angry” and spins around, going too close to the rocky area, and falling over and crashing down into the less dense area of the boulders (with a few final somewhat disturbing truncated “barks” and “squeals”). There is a loud sputtering sound, somewhat like a sequence of cheap dud “puffy” caps from a cheap toy cap gun but louder, and a heavier smoke rises. “Nice going, _”. I call him by name, as I become more aware and recognize who he is (or symbolizes). I feel sort of sad that the robot has “died” in such a seemingly purposeless and careless manner and ponder what went wrong in its little robot path in life.

I sit down at the table. Oddly, a nuclear explosion occurs (to the right when looking out at the ocean) being a result of the robot remains (some sort of mechanical nucleus) exploding, but without effect other than causing us to be transparent and skeletal (as with an X-ray) for a very short time before returning to normal. Nothing seems damaged or even moved as we watch the mushroom cloud. “They call it a mushroom cloud…but I think it looks much more like cauliflower,” I say casually (with a brief flash of a lobster holding a small cauliflower head in each claw). One older female is standing in an elegant silvery dress (the only one standing at that point - everyone else is seated at the two tables). “Humans…” she says (ironically in regards to the robot), doing a single quick side-to-side head shake.

UPDATE: I have changed this to “precognitive” due to some interesting connections with a post that came shortly after mine as well as adding the “dream journal synchronicity” tag. http://www.dreamjournal.net/journal/index.cfm?username=ashzepplin&dream_id=190475