"Invincible" - 01/25/2007 (Lucid)

”Invincible”

01/25/2007 

Dream #1

(Lucid)

[IMG Credit]

(HAHAHAHA. Oh my God. I just had another good one. With the holidays over, I’ve recently started hitting the gym pretty hard, again. I’ve noticed that when I’ve been good to my body and mind, I get more lucids. Seems like common sense, I know, but I feel it’s worth noting. Anyway… )

So, this dream started in someone’s garage. I was a disembodied spectator, at first, and I saw that my mom had stolen some money from the Wrong People. She had dug a hole in the ground, in the garage (which was weird, because the ground is concrete and she was only using a shovel) and was burying the money in it. She heard some people coming, and the garage door began opening so, impossibly quick, she buried herself in the hole, along with the money and a shotgun, in case she needed to surprise her pursuers. When the garage opened, a bunch of cars and a school bus came up into the driveway. This is when the dream switched to first person, and my recall skips ahead a little bit. 

There was now a birthday party going on, in the garage, where a bunch of kids; their parents; and I were playing party games (which explained the school bus). Somehow, I knew something about the money and that the amount that mom had buried herself with was only a portion of it. Another car slowly pulled up into the driveway and a squad of mob-looking guys stepped out with their guns drawn. They walked up into the garage and started swinging their guns around at everyone, asking about their money. Of course no one else knew what they were talking about.

I, pretty sure there was about to be a bloodbath, finally spoke up. I took one of the men in the house and grabbed a bag full of cash, and gave it to him. As we were walking back to the garage I said something like, “Ok you’ve got your money. You’re going to let us go, right? These are just kids.” The guy was like “I can’t do that. You’re all witnesses.”

They stood somewhat in the center of our crowd, as we made a sort of ring around them, everyone too afraid to run away. Even the children were cringing and sobbing. Many of us, every time a gun barrel would aim in our direction, would discretely try to position ourselves behind the person standing next to us (which reminds me of a scene in a dream I had a while back, I just can’t remember which one). I forgot how, but one of the girls was able to talk the lead guy into letting her take the smallest child inside. Then, somehow, things turned around, and the gang decided not to kill us. They were going to take us with them and hold us hostage, instead. I dunno if I can’t remember why they decided this, or if there was just never a reason given.

Next thing I knew, though, we were driving down the highway in the school bus. I was sitting in the very back seat and the mob car was behind us. I was nervous as hell, sitting by the window, because I remembered (though I don’t really remember him saying it) that the lead guy had told us that, should we try anything funny, they’d open fire into the back of the bus, and I knew I was the first person that would be hit.

After driving for a while, the dream shifted again (I hate that I don’t know whether my dreams actually skip, or there are just gaps in my recall) and we, in the bus, were sitting outside of this nightclub. Everything was dead silent and I was still in the back, absolutely fuming mad about there being nothing any of us could do to get us out of the situation we were in. It was in having this moment to myself, to think, that I realized that all of this was a dream. I didn’t even do any reality checks to confirm it. (I am glad that I’m becoming more familiar with just knowing when I’m dreaming, by the feeling itself, and not having to confirm it) I don’t even think I looked at my hands to stabilize the dream, because it was already vivid enough, and I only had one thing on my mind: I was pissed at having been completely humiliated by these DCs.

I stood up and just walked off of the bus. I know there was a guy that was outside guarding us, but I don’t remember how exactly I got past him. I was soon barging into the club, like I was the terminator, eyes focused and scanning around for the rest of these men. The décor was completely unfamiliar, as far as I know, but the place was dominated by soft purple and gold lights. I saw the first guy in the hallway and, before he could do anything, I grabbed him by the face and slammed him back against the wall. He went down without much of a fight. Turning the corner, I came to the main room, two men suddenly standing up as soon as they saw me, drawing their guns. I turned my attention to the man on my left and he shot first. I reached up and caught his bullet in mid-air -- I could actually feel it, like an ant bite, when it hit my palm. I dropped the bullet and he shot, again. I caught the second bullet and slung my arm back at him, imagining the bullet hitting him in the chest - which it did, taking him down. I continued walking (which I hadn’t stopped doing since I came in the room) toward the man a few yards in front of me. People around the club were ducking for cover from the gunshots and flattening themselves against the walls, away from us. The man fired once or twice and, again, I caught the bullet(s).

Then, one of the kids from the bus wandered into the club. I stopped and looked back at the kid (whose position was at about 5 o’clock, in relation to where I was now standing), then looked back at the guy with the gun. I taunted him by saying something like “Hey look, it’s one of your hostages. If you gotta go, you might as well take somebody with you, right?” The gunman, not really knowing what to do, whipped his gun over at the kid and pulled the trigger. I dove to the side, covering a good five yards, in an instant, and catching the bullet before it hit the child. The man yelled out something like “You monster!!” and started shooting at me repeatedly, as I continued walking toward him, catching and swatting away every bullet that came in my direction. I stopped right in front of him and put my hands down, and decided to give him a free shot, while affirming to myself that I was, indeed, invincible. He put the barrel about three inches away from my forehead and pulled the trigger. It felt like someone had merely flicked me in the forehead with their finger. Ha! Oh, to see the look on that guy’s face!

I reached out and grabbed him by the collar, spun around and threw him behind me, straight out the front door of the club - which was now, mysteriously, directly behind me, instead of around the corner like it had been, earlier. I walked back outside the club to look for him and, as soon as I stepped out the door, I turned to the side and saw a car heading straight for me. It was the gunman, of course. Fully confident in my level of control, I planted my feet and pushed forward with my hands, completely smashing in the front of his car and bringing it to an immediate stop. Then, for good measure, I ripped open his hood and smashed my palm down through his air filter, flattening the top half of his engine. When I walked around to the side his car, he had already gotten out and was running away from me, terrified, and heading (for some reason) toward a lake that was a good 100 yards away, and he had a damned-good head start. I tried a super-speed run, to catch up with him, by focusing on the area a few feet in front of him and sprinting toward it. I was moving really fast, but not really 'The Flash' fast, just as the man jumped into the lake and started swimming his little heart out. Lol.

So, being a good 50-ft or so away from the water, I jumped into the air and levitated over to him, dropping down into the water right in front of him and grabbing him by the shirt. The water was only waist deep so, at first, I started guiding him out of the lake on his feet but, then, just to show-off a little more (why is showing off to DC’s so much fun, knowing they aren’t real? Haha) I said “And just to show you what you were up against…” then I flew up out of the water and directly toward the tree I had passed under while running after him. I dragged him through the tree - the branches smacking and scratching against his face, while I didn’t even feel them. Finally, being as high as the tree itself, after coming out the other side, I slung the guy down toward his own car so hard that his body smashed up the back end just as much as the front had been.

I landed in the parking lot and all the kids and parents and club-goers that had been outside watching started cheering and giving me props (which, again, is always satisfying, even when you're aware that they aren't real). Some time during the aftermath, I'd lost lucidity; the cops showed up; the bad guys were arrested; and all was right with the world.

(Woke up at about 4:30, almost too excited to even think about going back to sleep. I wrote down the notes for this dream and went back to bed, trying to induce another lucid dream with the WBTB method. I did have a few dream fragments, afterward, but none of them lucid.)

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Last Night's Dream(s), in One Sentence: 03/05 - 03/08/2020

(Two dreams, from over the weekend....)

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"Blackmail: Return to Sender" - 12/08/2010 (Lucid)

"Blackmail: Return to Sender"
12/08/2010
(Lucid)

Some goons had kidnapped my daughter.

They were using her as leverage, to blackmail me into coming along with them and helping them to commit an armed robbery. With no other choice, I went along with it. I don't remember very much of the whole situation, as it began, but it involved being something of a point-man in the heist, within a enormous estate home. The squad of thugs were charged with keeping the people in the house at bay, while I was supposed to be the one who actually went in to steal whatever was in the safe. It wasn't long before the occupants of the house began fighting back, though, and soon there was an insane firefight going on. I wasn't fortunate enough to be given a gun so, once I had what I came for, I had to haul ass through the house, ducking and dodging as guns were blazing around me. For the most part, the folks in the house were completely outgunned, and there were innocent people dying all around me. The inhabitants of the home figured me to be one of the bad guys (which, in essence, I was), so I ended up having to grab a pistol off of a dead man and shoot my way out, rounding the stairwell and rushing down, level after level; covering my own ass with frantic shots until I made it to the ground floor.

I rushed outside of the house, gunfire still crackling in all directions. As I was running, a van hurriedly pulled up beside me, and the door opened. Still at a sprint, I jumped inside the van and we sped off. I had completed my mission and gotten the goons whatever it was they were searching for (though I don't remember what it was. The whole thing felt much like Cobb's attempted escape at the beginning of Inception). All I could feel was that the victory was a bit dubious. I wanted my daughter back, but I felt horrible about all of the people that had to die for me to complete my objective. To make things even worse, I was greeted with the old bait-and-switch, for my services. The goons refused to give my daughter back. They said that they would need me for another job or so, before they would consider returning her to me. Needless to say, I was furious. I was not about to be made into a lap dog for these sons of bitches. I knew I had to do something about this.

Half-heartedly - and biding my time while trying to think of what course of action to take - I agreed to this new mission. It was supposed to be another armed robbery, much like the last one. I was told that the Head Goon was going to be there, himself, so I had a 'plan' on how I was going to end all of this. It was half-baked, but it was the best I had. Somehow, I had the luxury of having my good friend, T, be my transportation to this heist. We were in a car that I don't believe was his Jeep, but he was driving. We had to circle the neighborhood a few times, and wait until the goons had already secured the house, which seemed like a cross between an old house of mine, in Houston, and my Grandmother's house, in Daytona. Also inexplicably, I knew that there was a rack of weaponry waiting for me, down the street from the target home. My "employers" didn't know about this, and it was my intention to use these to get close enough to the leader of the group to take him at gunpoint, and bargain his life for that of CJ. Like I said; half-baked, but what other choice did I have?

Making one of our rounds, we stopped over at this rack of weapons (which was, amusingly, just set up right beside some random house - all out in the open) and stocked up. T already had a handgun and ammunition in his car, just in case, but I needed to get my own. Going up to the rack, though, I saw that the only gun it had was a model of a real piece. I didn't even think it was functional, but for some reason, I packed it anyway. There were no bullets on this rack of weapons, but T's bullets were able to fit in my 'model' gun, and that made me a little more confident that it would fire. After loading it, though, I didn't dare test it, because we were in a neighborhood and didn't want to draw too much attention to ourselves before getting the job done. I also grabbed a samurai sword from off the rack and slung the sheath over my shoulder. Packing a modest amount of arms, we went back to circling the block. On what I thought was our last pass, we saw the goons storm into the target house. I knew that I was going to be on, in just a few moments. T was beginning to lose his nerve about having any part in this, though. I told him that he was going to have to stop and wait for me to come back out of the house, but he didn't want to stop, even to drop me off. We just kept driving around the block while I argued with him about how I had to go through with this. Another pass. Now, there were people streaming out of the house, some of them dragging their bullet ridden bodies under their own power, clinging desperately to their lives. I knew that there was going to be no other chance. Again, I told T that he had to stop, so I could get this done before the cops came. And, again, he doubted the situation just long enough to roll passed the house again. Sure enough, on our next trip around, there were cop cars in the driveway. I knew that, If I were to go in now, I would have bought myself a 1-way ticket to prison. It was too late to complete the job as ordered, anymore...I had failed.

Then I got a phone call. The leader of the goon squad said that he wasn't even present, during the heist. He had been testing me, and I let him down by not completing my task. He told me to report back to him, because we had some things to 'discuss,' and it was the most ominous thing I had heard in my life. He still didn't know that I was armed, though (if you could call it that). We drove down the block, still in my grandma's hood, and I got out of the car, staring at the house, knowing the shit was about to hit the fan. I didn't plan on making much small talk...at all. I was going in there determined to get my daughter back, by any means necessary. Clutching the pistol and sword, and making my way up to the door - practically on fire with anticipation - I suddenly realized that I was dreaming! I was absolutely ecstatic. Lol. Any trace elements of fear that I'd had just moments ago (and there was a lot of it) instantly disappeared. This entire scenario had just done a complete 180, and now, even though I was fully aware that this was not reality, I damn sure wasn't leaving this scene without settling the score.

I burst into the run-down old house, immediately stepping in and waving the gun around. There was one guy on a couch to my right, another standing in a hallway to my left, and the leader was directly across the room from me. He sat in a chair, smug, with a gun in one hand and my daughter in his lap. She sat rather stoically, looking at me with a calmness in her face as if she was just waiting patiently for this to be over with. I glared at the leader, beginning to walk toward him (before this time, I had never actually seen him, and he reminded me a lot of Victor Sweet, the demented, ego-maniacal villain from the movie Four Brothers). The guy on the couch suddenly threw out his arm and aimed his gun at me. I aimed back at him and tried to pull the trigger. Nothing. I squeezed it harder. Still nothing. Even though I was lucid, the gun was still acting like a damn model! I just couldn't squeeze the trigger. Even when I clutched it with two hands and squeezed with both index fingers, it wouldn't budge. I thought that it should be easy, since I was aware this was just a dream, but no matter what I did, this gun just would not shoot. Frustrated, I began taunting the guy on the couch. I dared him to shoot me, telling him that he could take all the shots he wanted, but it wasn't going to stop me from killing every single one of them, beginning with him. I began to slowly walk in his direction.

He fired. Anticipating the attempt, I swung my hand up in front of me, imagining the bullet hitting my palm and snatching it out of the air. He fired again. My other hand raised, slapping the bullet off to one side while I continued in a steady pace toward him. His shots came in quicker as I advanced, and I simply stopped paying attention to the bullets, stalking toward the increasingly terrified man. His bullets pelted lightly off of my chest like grains of rice against cowhide. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that the leader was getting uneasy, too. He tried getting my attention and stalling me with some talk about how he "knows me" from somewhere, but I completely ignored him. I would get to him...in time. But for now, I was relishing in the moment.

By this point, I was standing right over the man on the couch. He had stopped shooting, and his eyes were wide with fear. He was shaking. Again, I tried to squeeze off a few rounds into his stomach, from point blank range, but the gun I held was completely useless, and I just didn't have enough control of the dream to overpower it. I finally threw it to the ground, having had enough, and reached around behind me to pull the samurai sword out of the sheath over my shoulder. The last thing I remember, before waking up, was the look on the goon's face when he realized that he was about to be carved into tiny little pieces.