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almost 13 years ago
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1788
Running Through Doors

Each room is it's own environment and reality that meets it's own ends, fulfills it's own needs, and is a means in and of itself. I began in a cafeteria, and the idea that I was famished was prevalent. I was hankering a brownie, they were my favorite in high school because they were made a unique way, and in another room that led to the lunch line, I entered from the right side in an attempt to simply cut the line. This failed and I was sent to the far end of the left side in which there were many kids ahead of me, and I longed for this food. After a short moment of waiting, some of the lights began to shut off, indicating that the cafeteria was shutting down. Frustrated, I walked out, and was not back in the cafeteria, but walking into a bar.

I now knew my girlfriend (and the problems we had with communication) and as I try to search for her, the search begins running thin. Realizing I had a phone I try to call her and get a hold of her, and finally, although I don't remember the call itself, I am beside her as she sits on a stool. I approach, and problems arise, because there is a clear discrepancy in the way we are trying to communicate, I being stubborn enough not to call for the majority of the time, am blamed for the situation and how I should keep more track of myself and the phone.

Things resettle, and simply because there was a communication error, did not mean the dream or the night I was in needed to stop, but simply a blockage realized. Now, we are probably spatially in the back of the bar, but outside in that this is, again, a completely different environment in which a dream could exist in and of itself. My girlfriend and I sit enjoying a meal of sorts, in the grass, and in front of us is a platform with steps on both sides leading up. On the platform is a shaman, tribesman, or someone that is simply indigenous and who had more control over the state of illusion than I did. Our dialog was telepathic, and although I remember the physical gestures that arise out of conversation, the message wasn't heard by vibratory sound. He explained a few different situations, and one being a demonstration in which it appeared as though he was levitating. Our eyes locked during the entire time that he did this, and I realized in the moments here that he wasn't necessarily doing what it appeared to be. It was as though my perception was his, and he used my point of view as the basis for where he would sit along this stick that extended from the platform to the ground. By being in the perfect position, I could not perceive the stick, and it appeared as something more. I realized this, and then a door opens, this time not a door that existed within the dream, but in the mind.

Here a Darkness occurs, I capitalize only because it's very important. I term this not only because there is a large gap of memory in my dreaming process, but because when I exit this and shuttled back into consciousness I have carrying with me emotions of fear, guilt, and desperation. I feel like I am hanging onto life by a thread, and that I am a refugee.

For whatever reasons, I've been removed from my apartment. I am on the second floor, and now in a state of "run," or continually-move-regardless-of-wtf-is-going-on. I look out to the right and there are stairs leading down to ground level. As I descend, the sky grows grayer and a car comes sliding out from the street and right in front of the stairway--it's covered in dust, a very thick layer of dust. This moment filled me with the exact emotions displayed in my last recollected dream where I had opened the door to escape a house and place I was being charged at by a woman I did not know, and as I tried to exit the night pierced black and the entire scene shifted as though it was in static television, the moon existing in the moment prior, and gone the next, with emotions of fear and shock as wind rushed into the home and forcing me to transition out of the door. I wanted nothing to do with this car in front of me, and charged back up the stairs as fast as I could. On the re-arrival of the second floor, I am confronted with an old woman who wants nothing to do with me. I plead her as I follow her, all the while my eyes locked, for something amazing was happening. The longer I followed her, the longer I looked, the longer time passed, the younger I noticed she was becoming, the more willing she became as well to my efforts to want to be, taken in, for lack of words. Now a younger woman, I would say around my age, we are in front of a door, the very same in which was mine and I was removed. At this point I am being welcomed in, and I follow her through. This isn't a slow process, all of this went at quite a fast pace despite allowing the appropriate room for thoughts. I walk in and find many family members inside, they are all working on their separate things, but all in and around the kitchen area. As I look to discern who they are or what exactly they are doing I notice a large indigo eye at their center forehead, it opens up to me. Now as I take in whole of everyone, they all have eyes on their forehead, I feel like I am misguiding the dream, for this is something that happens in meditation with symbology like "the all seeing eye." I cry out in my head I don't want to control them, that I don't want to be a part of a manipulative process, because I felt as though this process was doing so and didn't want to be kicked out. I notice this mark on all of them, I have this thought, and and then I look out the window and a shining light sparks against the sky. I turn around and the woman I followed is introducing me to the mother, her eye looking at me too, and then I realize all of the dream was coming undone.

In the next moment I am in the same apartment, except there is no one. I realize I was unable to keep the environment together, and that I had lost what I had an opportunity to learn from, uncertain to myself whether it was my lack of control over the visualization or simply what was necessary to happen. As I exit the apartment again there is a side room for laundry and a black woman washing the clothes. Then a dialog comes along the lines of, "Oh no, I am not dealing with this again," and I realize she could offer me not a home nor protection from the outside, and I exit. I am awoken very soon after.

stairs
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