MASH/Meeting Leonard Nimoy/Watching a play

Tell us about your first lucid dream - and your latest. We want all the juicy details. Also share results of dream challenge experiments.
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MASH/Meeting Leonard Nimoy/Watching a play

Postby Nickfan40 » 08 Jun 2017 18:39

I had this dream last night. I was trying to "program" myself to have a dream about Herbert Lom. I ate some cheese at about 10pm to go to bed at 11:30pm:

I was in an Old West setting and see some of the actors/characters from MASH walking around; they are wearing their regular uniforms, though. I see RADAR walking around with his clipboard, writing something. I am standing right behind him and see what it is: he is writing down the names of people who have died, how they died, and what time, kind of like a "Grim Reaper"! Even though I see the names clearly in my dreams, I can't remember them when I wake up. He goes on into his office, types it up, then hands it to Colonel Potter.

The scene changes to that of a combination of a mom-and-pop store we have in town and an old general store-type fruit store my family and I used to visit a long time ago; it was called "The Apple House". Potter is behind the counter, waiting on customers. A woman comes in. She is wearing a very long dress and a bonnet, the clothing of the time. She is very upset, and asks RADAR to show her what he wrote on the paper about her husband's death.

I fade out of the scene and I'm walking along with a bunch of people, being led by Leonard Nimoy, who is dressed completely in black; he looks like he did about 10 years ago. We come to a closed door. He asks to see our tickets, but I don't know what they are for. When I show him mine, I can see the number clearly in my dream, but I can't remember it now. I know it was a 4-digit number, starting with a 3, but it doesn't match the number they want. I have lost the contest/whatever, but I am "good" about it. Leonard is sitting in a chair. I lean down and give him a kiss on the cheek.

The scene changes again to the cafeteria where I went to elementary school. There is a stage close to it, and some people are putting on a play that I think is a cross between Pink Flamingos and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, but it seems so silly that I can't tell what it is. I hear the songs "Hot Patootie (Bless My Soul)" and "Wild and Untamed Thing", but the actions don't match the songs. At times, I am part of the show, others, I am sitting in the audience, watching it. Leonard is in the show, too, dressed in drag, which looks really dumb.

We are sitting at the cafeteria tables watching the play, when a black girl, starts picking on me, wanting something of mine and I know she won't stop until I give it to her: she wants my ID card. I look at her and say, "Why would you want *that*?! People will know that it's not *you*?!" She keeps pestering me, and I get up and give my wallet to my mother, who is with me. The girl doesn't see me doing this. I am standing beside the accordion-like partition on the other side of the room and hear the girl say, "Let's get the rest of the group together!" This doesn't sound good to me, so I start to run. I try to hide behind an old piano, but someone comes and rolls it away. I start running again and see the girls, both black and white, coming after me. I suddenly get the urge to go to the bathroom, and as I'm running to find one, I wake up.
When I woke up, I had an "Aha! moment". I recognized the scenes as memories from my school days. Kids would pick on me, knowing if I told the teacher, nothing would be done. I wouldn't fight back because *I* would be the one getting suspended and not *them*. The black girl wanting what was mine went back to my junior high school days when a black girl wanted the retainer I wore when I was nine years old; I only had to wear it a year. She kept pestering me about it until I gave it to her, but I would *never* give anyone my ID card. Kids ganging up on me took me back to 5th grade when some kids told me they'd beat me up if I didn't tell people that my mother abused me. My mother got to hear about it and told the principal, but nothing was done. The stage in the cafeteria was two memories into one. I was seeing some of the cafeteria from my elementary school, but there was an accordion-like partition, the lunch line, and the dish-washing area, not the stage. The stage was in the cafeteria of my junior high school.

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