posted on Apr, 4 2009 @ 11:11 AM
HOWEVER... I've been thinking about the dream a little more, trying to get my mitts around it... One good thing about lucid dreaming is that it
gives you practice in studying the symbolism of the subconscious, the weird-ass icons and totems and disembodied tits squirting milk and so
Looking back on this dream with a half-a-day's simmering self-analysis, I think I'm looking at my own dissatisfaction with success. The dream is
showing me all of this indulgence — shameful indugence, running an Aston Martin through an automated carwash, the height of abuse and
arrogance and disrespect, having sex with a lusty babe in the front seat, the suds pouring over us, a cleansing and a defiling, ruining the interior,
simultaneous acts of destruction and creation. The end result is a tainted bride, a promise of tainted spawn, and a glistening
Aston Martin that has just been devalued by about $100K...
Problem is, I'm not wealthy like this. I'm not successful like this. I don't know any retarded girls — the only retarded girl I
ever knew was, like, 42 years ago, she lived on the next ranch over, she was my buddy's sister, I lost track of her after the 6th grade. I never had
ill thoughts of her, I don't think-down to retarded people at all, and I'm courteous enough not to refer to them as "special" or
"challenged," which is condescending, politically-correct crap. They're not challenged, it's not like they have a functional brain
except they see life as a game of Twister™ or something... Call 'em what they are. All the circuitry isn't installed, they're
So... I really don't know where it's coming from. I mean, this was a startling-enough dream that it could be called somebody else's dream.
Like, boom, for a few seconds I was dreaming in somebody else's head, or somebody else's thoughts were intruding on mine in a very
disturbing way. Psychic attack, maybe?
— Doc Velocity
[edit on 4/4/2009 by Doc Velocity]