Morning of May 8, 2015. Friday.
This dream is a very good example of how even the best, most focused scripting can go awry or "amiss" once entering a dream state (though it depends on the form of meditation, "automatic" affirmation acceptance, and concurrent imagery). Although over the years, I have often noticed more and more "automatic" personal control over many dreams (even non-lucid ones) and the growing knowledge (with increasing levels of precision) of how my mind and attitude creates dreams, there is often another facet of my real-time (present) experience that becomes triggered somehow, though which is still solely of my waking character. In this case, it was probably being annoyed in real life by thoughtless impositions on our family by NBN workers. Aligning the transitions between different levels of consciousness to more fluidly move through them (from the onset of fully conscious hypnagogia I have had since early childhood) while remaining my true self is not that difficult at times (even at some levels of otherwise disruptive environmental noise), but the most curious thing still is how memory completely fails on such a grand scale even after only a few seconds in some cases. Sleep paralysis is still usually a very pleasant experience (unlike what I have read from other sources) and is automatically triggered by exertion or so-called overexercise, and oddly, overexercise, even at my present age, brings feelings of being healthier and more relaxed even if I had earlier felt ill.
In my dream, I am walking in an unknown area, which seems like some sort of composite between a part of this town (in the commercial district), the south side of La Crosse, and where I went to school in Florida. I am walking down the street, seemingly with the intent to study a large notebook I am carrying (probably a type of dream journal) while relaxing in a nearby park.
I seem to be walking on Bourbong Street on the left side, heading east, growing closer to the edge of the urban area. As I walk, I notice a young Asian male on my left, who is seated on the sidewalk and leaning against the outer wall (near a corner) of a business building, fairly close to an intersection. He seems quite happy. On his right is an unknown female (though her appearance is not that clear).
I soon find myself in a park that reminds me of the playground where I went to school in Florida. The park is very crowded though there are areas to sit down. I sit down and lean against a tree and open my notebook. Curiously, on the left side when I open it, there is a clear display page containing a large photograph (about two-thirds the size of the A4 page) that shows the imagery I had just seen of the male leaning against the building. I do not consider this as impossible or untimely at all. I look through my book and notice various pages that are "pieces" of my personal history and ideas.
After a time, I notice the presence of an unknown female on my right, possibly a college student who came to the park to study, and who seems to be fairly "dominant" and self-aware. I eventually notice that I am somehow sitting farther from the tree (with no memory of having moved) and feeling a bit imposed upon. I turn back to the girl and bring attention to the fact that she had supposedly been pushing me away from where I was seated near the tree (and I supposedly only moved little by little out of politeness and to avoid any potential confrontation). I seem a bit angry, but not aggressive in any way. She does not react other than giving me a curious look as if perhaps I have lost my mind and simply moved away from her on my own for no particular reason (in fact, she is facing perpendicular to where I am and had probably not really pushed me physically at any point). She remains where she is, appearing stoic and not offended in any way. I notice she has a notebook much like mine and seems to be studying the pages carefully.
In fact, I had deliberately scripted such a scene (up until the time when I become annoyed) where I would be given healing energies as well as answered questions and possible information about the future by a representation of the universe when "she" appeared. This is certainly not the first time that I threw a monkey wrench into my own unfolding script (though this does not happen in fully lucid dreams) and it likely will not be the last.