My wife and I are in bed, and we can't sleep, because there is a child bouncing on the bed in the next room. My wife says something to the effect that she (the child) said she wasn't going to do that. This same child had been in bed with us last week.
I get up to go to the bathroom. Now I'm in a public place. I see a nice bathroom, but I am not sure if it is for the public, so I turn to find another one. I'm aware that I'm at a particular mall, and I find a large public bathroom with rows of woodend stalls. There are lots of people there. I pass someone coming out and notice that his face is deformed - or, at least non-human. He has no right eye. It's not that it's missing - there's flesh where his eye should be, and something like a soft twig growing out of it.
It occurs to me that there is probably a vacant stall where he just was, so I find it, dismissing the notion that perhaps I might "catch" his deformity if I use the same toilet.
I find the stall, which is constructed of logs - I can't even see a toilet, per se. I reflect on what a ridiculous set-up this is.
Hey. Hang on.
I lift my legs off the ground, supporting my hands on a couple of twigs, to see how easily I can float. I float, but maybe it's the cramped stall that helps. I go to end of the row where there is more room and try again. Yes, I float easily.
I grab the attention a the first person I meet. He also has an alien look, with a long thin nose that dangles.
"I'm dreaming, right?"
"Yeah, you're dreaming." He has an accent I don't immediately identify. Maybe he's from the Bronx. (I live nowhere near there.) His attitude says, "So, what of it?"
I ask him if he is an aspect of myself. I think he says he's the rational part. He gets my name wrong. (I think I do to, at this point.) His name is Geoffrey. He comments that our names our similar. (They're not.)
We get into an open-air vehicle -- there is no roof. I can't see what's propelling it or who's driving it. There are benches behind filled with other persons. I'm aware of 4 or 5 people besides myself.
I suggest to Geoffrey that since he's an aspect of myself, this is really an inner dialogue I'm having. That suggestion seems to satisfy him. Okay, can I speak to my heart? Oh sure, that's this lady. She gets down from the bench behind. She's wearing a hood. She looks negro, or half negro. (I'm white.) She may have given me her name, and I don't remember much of our short conversation, because now I'm talking with someone else. I don't remember which aspect he is.
I ask him about lucid dreaming. Is it such a good idea? (Around this point, I'm aware that I wasn't really asleep in the bed that I got up to go to the bathroom from. I think for a moment about where I really am, gather a brief impression, and try not to dwell on it. I don't want to wake up yet. But I note that the dream seems to be going on for a long time, and I wonder how late in the morning it is.)
This third person (or is it Geoffrey again?) isn't so keen on lucid dreaming. That's why they put the warnings there. "Go! Vamos! Vos!" ("Vos"?) He has them written on a flip chart. I think he's talking about how my psyche plays tricks on me to make me think I'm not dreaming. I'm focusing on the chart and I snap away.
I'm flabberghasted by the experience. I head straight to the living room to write it all down. I'm still here, so if I hope I'm awake, because this has been a lot of effort.
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