Nicotine Incubus

I have 4 different categories of dreams. Tonight I will talk about one of them. You all probably know about the Incubus; the demon that sits on your chest while you are asleep and suffocates you. I have a Nicotine Incubus. The only reason I say this is that I spend substantial amounts of my life not smoking and have come to make a distinction between dreaming with nicotine in my system and without.  When I am smoking, here is one kind of recurring dream I have:

There is a transitional time between wake and sleep. This dream always happens just about 15 minutes after I have started drifting, and am in that in between period of sleep and wake.

I become dizzy. My head is spinning. It feels very, very heavy. I know it is happening and I try to wake myself. I usually can not. A loud noise, like guitar feedback, scraping nails, screaming, and some kind of engine, deep and full, all start spinning around in my head. I am being pulled deeper into my pillow. I really want to wake up but the intensity and heaviness increase- the noise gets louder and louder- so I become less and less able to wake myself. I am being pulled down.

I sometimes am able to realize I have a choice. If I am feeling strong, I make the right choice. I start to fall. I am in a standing position and begin to fall face down. I trust myself. I am able to fall in slow motion. Just before I hit the floor, I begin to hover. I hover well if I am feeling strong. It is like flying except I am only 3 or 4 feet from the ground. I search out things. Sometimes I can control it. Sometimes I find naked women. Sometimes I just go through earthen tunnels; underground worlds.

The dizziness comes back, the noise, screaming metal sounds. I realize I must awake because I am not able to breathe. I see myself on the bed. I have hovered to myself. On the count of three I will wake up. 1,2,3, Wake up! I think I am awake but the noise starts again. I tell myself I will throw myself on the floor, out of my bed, and do so. I think I am awake, but I am not. I am still being pulled down. I am gasping for breath. The gasping is what wakes me. I look around. I have been still. I haven’t tossed or turned. I am not on the floor. I stand up and am dizzy. I can’t see well. I have to stay out of bed because I know that if I lay back down I will immediately be pulled back in.

The Dream of Change

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So who is this then?

The tall woman was seven feet tall. She was walking. I kneeled down to gather a handful of white flowers and came back inside to put them in a jar which needed to be fiddled with or cleaned.  Inside the brown skinned man’s car with him like a spouse only we must have been somewhere where you drive from the left side. He was really happy to be in his car and he rubbed the ceiling. He had drinks to mix in the back. It was a strange thought to be married to a man I couldn’t remember being intimate with.

In a house looking for a room for the little boy, there was a room with old grey paintings, down steps and somewhere I knew he would feel creepy.  Once I got to go to sleep in one of the three beds, a man with brown arms wrapped himself around my back strangely in desire. He was no one I knew. I was so relieved to see my little infant child crawling up beside the bed. I gathered her up. Then someone came in with guns. The ones out of the beds were in trouble.  They were chained up. It was really disturbing.

&~~

moist red walls and swimming vegetables

I’m back in Viet Nam in a house which looks more like a cave-like clay hut. Some girl (and her father?) is with me and painting the walls in dusky pink and bright red. The walls are too soggy for the paint and I think the typical light green one would be better. The wallpaper is soaked and the coat won’t become even, but I’m telling the girl that it’s alright.

I’m in the locker room of a public swimming pool  but it looks more like a youth hostel dorm.
I’m talking to a fellow student about how fast I usually swim and what the record at this pool is.

I’m preparing broccoli and it’s getting too soft-boiled. ☆