Messengers From My Subconscious
I dreamed I was working in a nearby town at a small country store. Inside, they’d expanded to have several departments and I was one of many salespeople who floated the floor to help customers and arrange stock.
Robin Williams was there, also a salesman, passing out small plastic Bic lighters that were made like Zippo lighters. He gave me mine and I stopped short, really looked at it, realized how it was made to be useful about five times and then it would become trash. Just more pointless garbage in the world. I wanted nothing to do with it.
He was sitting on the baseboard alongside a big set of picture windows. They overlooked a nice view and water, nothing like is really near the store. I went over to drop down beside him so I could whisper in his ear. I didn’t want the locals to hear anything I had to say.
I looked at him close up and I said I know that people like you in my dream are messengers from my subconscious. What do I need to do? And he said I can do anything I want to do. I paused for a moment and thought. I whispered that I don’t know what I want to do.
It was the kind of dream that comes from lingering in bed just a little bit longer than you strictly need to for sleep. The type where I wasn’t truly lucid, but at the same time, I had some level of awareness. It wasn’t enough that I could declare to myself, Oh, I’m in a Dream and take control, but enough that I could realise I was dreaming and undertake a small action.
I feel like I need a new category, a new word to represent that state. Maybe Cherry Nirvana? It should be a perfect ice cream, but isn’t chocolate covered cherry enough, like almost lucid is nowhere close to the greatness of lucid.
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