My Dream Last Night.

[UnderwaterOphelia]

Originally Posted by TrivialMorose

No, I'm sorry, my intent is never to hurt anybody. This is a fun thread to use as one's personal dream journal. Would be even better if you joined in, too, and told "us" about your latest dreams.

My last night is a very hazy thing.
There was a junk salesman, I think, and a helmet that had some technology in it to help contain someone's psyche in their body, or something like that... Very hazy...
What little I remember of the dream sort of resemble a story I was writing a short while back. In my story there were helmets that amplified psychic signals.

I was kidding anyway, because I was so cringey.

As a matter of fact, I have been having pretty whack dreams. My grandmother just died, so I've been dreaming of her. I dreamt of a tsunami recently. I wanted to help people, but the person I was with didn't think we could risk offering help.

[TrivialMorose]

Originally Posted by UnderwaterOphelia

I was kidding anyway, because I was so cringey.

Well, I sort of knew already that you weren't actually writhing in the throes of great throbbing pains over this deal, but thanks for reassuring me anyway,

You sound like you're a very kind person.

Sadly, I don't remember any dreams from last night. Woe is me.

[UnderwaterOphelia]

Originally Posted by TrivialMorose

Well, I sort of knew already that you weren't actually writhing in the throes of great throbbing pains over this deal, but thanks for reassuring me anyway,

You sound like you're a very kind person.

Sadly, I don't remember any dreams from last night. Woe is me.

You're not also someone from back in the day, are you?

[TrivialMorose]

Originally Posted by UnderwaterOphelia

You're not also someone from back in the day, are you?

No, I've never been registered here before. I'm toxic green.

[UnderwaterOphelia]

Originally Posted by TrivialMorose

No, I've never been registered here before. I'm toxic green.

Oh, ok.
Well, welcome!

[TrivialMorose]

Originally Posted by UnderwaterOphelia

Oh, ok.
Well, welcome!

Well, thank you kindly!

No new dreams to report, yet. Tonight I may try to sleep with a cat who has history of making trouble and keeping people awake instead of slumbering peacefully. Not that it has anything to do with anything, just wanted to have something to say... I never really have anything to say...

[TrivialMorose]

I just slept a spell with the aforementioned cat. And in my dreams

I peeled potatoes and added them into a kettle.
A man in suburbs said, "The neighbors here don't always play fair."
I saw old postcards with writing on them, some of the writing had been blotted out.

[UnderwaterOphelia]

Originally Posted by TrivialMorose

I just slept a spell with the aforementioned cat. And in my dreams

I peeled potatoes and added them into a kettle.
A man in suburbs said, "The neighbors here don't always play fair."
I saw old postcards with writing on them, some of the writing had been blotted out.

All one dream?

[TrivialMorose]

They were three short separate dreams.

No new dreams to report. The cat is crazy and my sleep has been very patchy, impeding my recall.

I did see some hypnopompic electric sockets in the ceiling.

[NotTrivialMorose]

Last night,
The “happy” husband character from Why Women Kill (I don’t remember his name, or maybe it was Carl?) was pretending to be some young blonde lady’s boyfriend as they visited her grandmother. He told the grandmother that he was actually American, that his British accent was just for show.
As they chatted, they found out that they all happened to have a mutual acquaintance in Dexter Morgan. So they started sharing their views on him, talking about what a shady character he is, and this way they found out that Dexter had actually lied to them, because he had told each of them some things about himself differently.

In another dream it was nighttime in the middle of winter, my spouse and I were hanging out in the snow. The crazy cat I’ve previously written about came meowing to us, persuading us to look at a certain star in the sky.
We were a bit perplexed why the cat was so interested in a star. We thought that perhaps it was newly appeared in the sky, and that’s why it bothered him.
Two yellow 80s cars kept driving past us over and over again, off-road driving in the snow. The people inside them, a man and a woman in each, kept staring at us unpleasantly each time.
Then one of the cars parked near us, and we went inside a house to get away from their suspicious behavior.
Right as we were entering the house, the man emerged from the car with a long barreled weapon in his hands, a rifle or a shotgun, couldn’t perfectly see it in the dark, and he started walking toward us.
I slammed the door and locked it. My wife shrilled for me to call the police, while I already got to a landline telephone and dialed the emergency number.
While waiting for the other end to pick up, I told my wife there was no chance police could get here in time to do anything to prevent these people from murdering us. That we were probably gonna die.
Then I remembered that I had actually foreseen this event sometime in the past, and already had a plan for how to survive this, but, unfortunately, I had forgotten the exact plan. so I started wracking my brain to remember what the solution was.

In yet different dream I was a production assistant at a movie set somewhere in Africa. I got along well with one black actor and we high-fived.

[NotTrivialMorose]

Of last night,

I remember two ostriches running toward me on a sunny road while making swan song noises.

[NotTrivialMorose]

Hello there, dear dream journal,

I've just woken up with a start and a couple fresh ones.

First...
A marketing gimmick by some superstore, was to announce itself as an independent nation. What was just a humorous ploy, sparked a very real and intense political upheaval.
All sorts of weak, childish excuses were thrown around by our leaders, about why it was imperative that no one break free from the oppression of the existing nations. Some of the excuses went something like this:
Deep and wide ditches would have to be dug around the superstore, and that would be no fun work.
The break-up would cause too much restlessness among religious people.
Missionaries would illegally try to cross borders.
People would have to be shot in the ditches in the name of safety…
In the end, words were not enough, and the army was sent to retaliate on the uppity rebels.

In another dream, it was night, my wife and I were watching some old VHS tapes. It was episodes of some made up sitcom show which was famous in the dream world. Eventually my wife got bored and went to sleep while I kept playing the tapes.
Soon I was joined by a wonderfully cute, young horse. She was very affectionate with me and seemed to be asking me to ride her.
I had never done it before, but the little horsey seemed so happy and eager about it, so, I thought, what could go wrong in a little summer night ride?
Once we got outside though, the horse couldn’t contain herself any longer and ran off without me. I had to run myself out of breath to catch up to her.
On our way, we traveled through desolate country roads, dark forests and even darker swamplands. From the very start, strange, unnerving noises permeated the night air, Lovecraftian ululations and such.
Then when I’d finally caught up to the horse and got on her back, after only a short stroll, we were attacked by an i-Oh for f's sake!-m-is this a bad word?-p, or a child’s ghost, dressed in winter gear and pushing a wheelbarrow before it.
This dream was lovely atmospheric and creepy as sin!


Now I'm not sure what's going to happen next. I feel conflicted. I might either go back to sleep and try to catch an extra entry for this night, or I may go and try do some writing. I'm feeling... bad, restless, suffocating.
Still sleeping with the crazy cat, but the crazy cat himself is sleeping all in quiet peace tonight.

And yup! I May Pass, is a nono word! Come on! Give "us" a live moderator here, because these rules are ridiculous! Or just drop this nonsense altogether. Hahaha, who the H am I talking to? You've lost it now, you stupid demon pretending to be something you're not, there's nothing here but rocks. Pfft.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

I was having a conversation about hair with someone, don’t recall at all who it was, but they were talking about what losers most hairs are, and I told them,
“I know, right? Like, I have tried to make my hair get a job, but it is quite unemployable because it’s only hair. Deep down, most people are pretty timid and shy, they don’t really like talking to hair.”

In another dream, my spouse had been into my favorite shop, and talked to my favorite sales person (a very nice person, but with a minor mean streak that does sometimes surface) there, and she was recounting to me their conversation. When her retelling came to a point where I was mentioned, I was called something like “that ugly, f/a/g looking a$$hole.”
It made me stop my wife’s story, and press from her whether these were really the words they’d used.
She was all aloof and dodgy about it.
She: “I don’t remember, they just mentioned you.”
I: “Try to think, I’d really like to know.”
She: “Who cares, what does it matter what they called you?”
I: “Well, I’d be kind of offended if that’s really what they said.”
She: “I don’t remember the exact words they used, but it was something like that.”
I: “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you were just saying that in the spur of the moment. I think it sounds pretty implausible that they would say something so rude and risk losing a customer.”
She: “Geez, it’s probably exactly what they said. Now get off my back about it.”

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

I was reading a book titled,

"Mr. Eherezad, From Boy to Birth"

It was written in the 15th century as a contemporary tale from the viewpoint of an immortal, wandering Jew type Mary mother of Jesus Christ.
The rest is very hazy, but roundabout it told of the second coming of Jesus, reborn as a man named Eherezad, going largely unnoticed by anyone but Mary.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

There was an infestation of some crab-looking bugs in my apartment. Females in the species were very rare and had a silver carapace, the males were smaller and bronze.
I chanced upon a couple mating, and I caught them under a glass. This act caused the sex pheromones waft around the room, or something, because soon more males came running, wanting a piece of the action. I let them all under the glass, and each time I tilted the glass, more of them came running.
Soon they were in the thousands, all piling on top of that single female, and the glass wasn’t enough anymore, so I replaced it with a bucket.
When I had the bucket full of them, I closed it with some weird sand contraption I couldn’t quite understand or use properly even in the dream. My wife told me to take the bucket far away. I went, but it was pretty shoddy with the improperly installed sand-trap-thing, and bugs kept falling out of it all the time.
Outside I ran down the street, and to move faster, I turned into a wolf-man. It was awesome. I moved in powerful leaps and pounds. Some kids on bikes saw me running like this and, wanting to play werewolf hunters, they started following me. I lost them by running into a woods.
There I hid the bucket inside some dark pit. Then I climbed up a very steep rocky hill to howl on top of it. Then the kids found me again, and they started hurling rocks and insults at me.

In another theme there was a fat bloodsucking centipede sleeping on a table in my apartment.
And In a desk drawer, I found a secret bedbug farm run by spiders. The bed bugs they used for sustenance were sickly and small, the crafty spiders kept them tightly monitored and imprisoned in the drawer, except that they sent out a couple males every now and then to drink human blood so that they would have the energy to sex the queen bedbug to produce more.

Not absolutely sure if this last bit was in the same dream, or in a different one, but I think it was in the same dream with the bedbug farm. My wife had an idea for some sort of garden project, and the crazy cat wanted to help, because he happened to have a special power of being able to puke out grass works of art, or little garden furniture, or something odd like that.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

There was a small underground control center in a nuclear missile facility. Two military men were working it, let’s call them senior officer and junior officer, for that is fitting both in their physical appearance and their apparent status. The senior looked a little like Leonard Nimoy. There was a bit of a sixties vibe to the whole thing.
The senior officer was snoozing, when a red telephone bolted to the wall started ringing. That alone was not enough to awaken him, so the junior officer had to shake him. Then the senior officer stood up and answered the phone with,
“Mr. President.”
A brief conversation ensued. From the senior officer’s replies, the junior officer deduced it was about launching the missiles. Once the call was over, the junior officer asked when this drill was going to take place.
The senior officer replied, “I fear we weren’t talking about just a drill.”
After that the dream morphed into something completely different. There was some talk about the X-Men comics. Something was said about how they had become more hateful recently. It was said that in the storylines of the last decade, the X-Men had released a virus to try to wipe non-mutants out and instigated a nuclear war.

There was some dream from which I remember nothing besides my flesh burning and melting.

In the last dream of the night, I was watching some Russian movie set in the black metal scene.
There were many good concert scenes in the movie, and every now and then some music interested me enough so that I went to check it out on the internet, but often before I could even finish writing the name of the band or the song if they had been mentioned, or just lyrics I’d try to catch, it already escaped my mind.
I grumbled to my spouse about how bad my memory is, she was not watching the movie with me, but was doing something in the adjacent room. She said to me something along the lines of:
“Geez, how much attention can you want with your writing. I’m already so sick of it.”
I tried to explain to her what was going on, that I wasn’t talking about my writing, but she didn’t want to listen.
My surfing took me to some website similar to Discogs, where I saw that some person was selling the Death’s Little Sister’s Three Regrets and a Curse tape. I was excited, but before I could scroll down to see the asking price, I was awoken.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

There was an old, melancholy guy. Broad shouldered and gray haired. I’d guess his age at about 70.
He arrived in some small town. He settled with a bunch of bags in a hostel.
The dream followed this guy for quite a long time, but I’ve forgotten mostly everything. I remember glimpses of him making new friends at the hostel, hanging at the local bar, and learning about a small boy who was his illegitimate son from when he had last visited the town.

Then the dream switched gears, and I was some reporter dude. My father, who was that old guy, was a retired police officer, and he had been missing for weeks. My mother heartbroken mother was a black woman, I was angry. I had been using my reporter skills to try to find him, but I’d had no luck. Instead, I’d found that he had sired several bastard children with different women, my half brothers.
Then his old boss, the police chief, came to see us, me and my mother. He had found a box belonging to my father in the police precinct. The box had contained a couple items, most importantly a suicide letter. The chief had read the letter to himself, and we read it too.
In the letter he had written down the name of the town where he would go to kill himself.
None of us believed what the letter said, we all thought it was a lie that he would kill himself. I was again bristling with anger, and I was all eager to go search for him in the mentioned town.
The police chief tried to talk me out of it. He said it might be better if we never find him, that he wasn’t a good guy, and he said, that I might not remember, but my father always beat me and my mother back when I was a kid. He told me to just let him be and move on with my life. Let him be dead if he wants to.
Well, I hadn’t listened to the chief, as I arrived in the small town from the start of the dream. I visited the bar first. There I wished I had brought a picture of him with me, but I hadn’t, so I just described him as I asked around. A woman tending the bar said she recognized the description, that a guy like that came to the bar every night at around 9p.m. to drink, watch horse races and shoot his mouth off with the local good old boys.
I thanked him for the info and left. Checking my wristwatch, I saw it was midday, so I pondered what I should do for about nine hours. I walked down the street and noticed a sign for a hostel. So I thought he must be staying there.
I stood outside the hostel for a good while, unsure whether I should go in and pretend I was a guest. I was afraid if I went, that my father might flee if he saw me. Or, quite irrationally, that if he wasn’t there, the other hostel guests might guess that I’m looking for him, because I had a couple bags with me that were the same kind as the bags he would have been carrying, and they would warn him, and he’d skedaddle instead of going to the bar like usual.
I decided to get in. I knocked on the door, it was answered by a young raven haired woman. She was a guest and took me for another. She showed me around the hostel.
In the sleeping room, my father was lying on his side on the floor. His back was to me, but I easily recognized him. The little boy he had learned was his son in the end of the first dream segment was there with him.
I just stared at him for a moment, then I dropped my bags, and he turned onto his back to look at me. He had an apologetic look on his face.
My anger and frustration came spilling over. I leaped to him and started pummeling his face with my fists. He didn’t do anything to stop me. The little boy started crying. I kept beating his face.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

I read a message on some forum, about someone having received a program, that would remove any tracking information from video files. He got the file from this guy called Cvet. He left Cvet's contact information at the end of his message.
I thought I wanted the file, too. So, I went to see Cvet, who lived in a dollhouse.
I opened the whole front wall of the house. Inside it was full of clutter, and Cvet sat in one corner with a computer running a command line interface Linux, running his fingers over the keyboard at lightning speed. I thought he was just like hackers in movies.
I handed him a red Cruzer Blade USB stick, and told him what I wanted. At this point I realized, and said out loud, that, oh, damn, the program probably won't have a graphic user interface, oh, well, I'll figure it out anyway.
Then, after I got the USB stick back, the dream morphed into a very 80s looking slideshow Linux ad, showing all sorts of things you could do with Linux, watching movies, playing games, doing programming, dancing at nightclubs and much more...

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

My wife and I were going to go into a used bookstore which I have been patronizing for a long time, but there was a note from the owner taped to the door, saying he had closed up for good, thanking customers for a good run. I was sad, and I wanted to do something to express that, so I wrote
“You will be missed”
to the end of the note. It was a terrible scribble, for my handwriting was even worse in the dream than it is in the waking world.
My wife was like: I don’t know you—and quickly walked away the moment I started writing it.

In another dream, Underwater Ophelia started some forum game thread here on Gothic Net. This was actually the second time she had started the same game, the first time had been in the old days. So in the title she indicated that this was the 2013 version, which was the current year.
In the first post she detailed the rules of the game. I remember nothing of it, which is a real shame.
After reading it, I did some image manipulation that had something to do with the game. The thing I made was some sort of masking picture that could be pasted on top of another picture to obfuscate it.
Or to obfuscate a text. Even though it would make more sense that the mask would be meant for another picture, I have a feeling that it was actually meant for a text, but I do not actually remember, so I can’t be certain.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

I was at a rural summer cabin. I wanted to watch an Estonian horror series from a DVD, my spouse suggested I watch it in the attic, and I thought it was a great idea. The attic was perfect for it, it was dark and cluttered and had a very creepy atmosphere.

My recollections about the show are somewhat spotty. It was set in modern day Estonia, but clothes and manners were largely from Victorian England. Major characters were at least two women, and two men.
The men were a psychiatrist and his apprentice. One of the women had some serious issues, so she went to see the psychiatrist. I think the other woman pressed her to do so, but not sure, don’t remember much of the second woman’s role at all, even though it was something significant.
The crazy lady and the apprentice fell in love. At the end of the first episode, the crazy lady killed someone by bashing their face in with a frying pan. I don’t remember who or why.

In the second episode the apprentice took the crazy lady to hide from the law in some underground bunker, and there was a woman’s ghost there. The ghost floated in the air and bothered the crazy lady, and I think the man couldn’t see it and it was causing friction between the lovers.

Halfway through the second episode, I became bothered by a feeling of unease, so I put the video on pause and started looking nervously around in the creepy attic. At first there was nothing, but as I tried to resume watching the show I saw shadows move about, so I paused it again, and this time a child had appeared behind me, leaning on the backrest of the sofa I was sitting on.
A small section of the child’s face was rotting, otherwise he looked mostly normal, except he was also wearing what looked like tatters of a black and purple space suit or something like that.
I touched the child’s head to see if he was just a hallucination, my hand did not pass through, so I decided he was not.
Then he started talking, and I recognized that he was not just any child, but he was myself as a child!
I asked what his name was, and he said his name used to be *****, the same as used to be mine, but that THEY had given him a new name.
He was reluctant to tell the new name he had been given, he said it was something old-fashioned. After a while he agreed to tell me it was *****, but it sounded very much like he was lying. I dubiously commented that that isn’t even a very old-fashioned name.
I tried to ask him many questions but he dodged almost all of them. Was he a ghost, who were THEY, where he came from, what he was doing here, and so on. He told me nothing.
I was going to leave, I walked to the door, he grabbed me by my leg and said he really enjoyed the thing we were doing back there, he pointed at the television which was still illuminating the attic. He didn’t have words for watching television. He told me it was the most riveting thing he’d seen since that time he saw two rabbits poop at the same time. Apparently, he could never leave the attic and there wasn’t much to do there.
He begged me I wouldn’t go, but that we’d resume watching the show. But I didn’t quite feel like staying to watch it in the creepy attic with a rotting kiddie version of myself. So, nope, I was just going to leave.


In another dream, there was a party going on in some apartment building. I was asking around from strangers if anyone had seen a certain dog by name. I no longer exactly remember what the name was, but it was something in the vein of “Mutt”. In the dream’s history, the dog had lived in my neighbor many years ago, we had been very good friends and I missed him.
I petted several different dogs on my way to find that one. When I finally found that dog, it was a joyous reunion as he had missed me too. He was a grayed old mutt.

I feel the dog might have been loosely based on my grandfather’s dog since when I was about as little as the rotting mini-me in the first dream. Both dogs had a similar name and a similar look.


In the last dream of the night, I think I was someone other than my usual self, but I don’t remember for certain. In any case, I wore a really cool outfit, which I don’t perfectly remember anymore, it had lots of leather and straps, and a cloak made of shiny black feathers. I even had great makeup to go with it.
I danced like a professional on a long table at some high-end business meeting in a big city skyscraper. Doing it was very defiant, somehow, even violent. Half the businessmen were angered by the distraction, half of them actually dug it.
The whole thing was built like a musical.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

I was looking at some made up band I really liked on metal-archives.com, and I found out they had a long time ago released three wild west themed tapes I had never heard of. The opening track on one of those tapes was titled "John Snow".
I sent e-mail to the band asking if they'd happen to have any copies left they could sell.
Apparently I sent myself along with the e-mail, because soon I was at their place.
There was a hippie lady there, with very straight hair. I asked her about the tapes, she said they have a lot of copies of some solo project by one of the band members, she pointed at one tape hanging on a string by a window. I took it in my hand and checked it, it had a pink cover with a picture of a black clad man hanging on a string.
I heard the music from the tape while I held it in my hand, and it wasn't that good.
No thanks, I said to the hippie, I'd just like to ask about the wild west tapes.
She said she'd ask the band members about them.
I looked into my wallet and realized I didn't have any cash with me, so, even though I didn't even know whether they had the tapes, I told her I'd go fetch some dough at an ATM.
After getting to the ATM, inserting my card and feeding the PIN code, the machine quickly displayed some error message I didn't have time to read and swallowed my card.

I woke up and the shamanic portal was open in the shape of a pentagram. For a few seconds I thought my breathing was talking to me. I don't remember anymore what it said, except that it was one or two sentences that didn't really make any sense.

I kept drifting back to sleep for a little after that, and in one short dream I was in some masonic place, or kind of like the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks, there was a checkerboard floor and red drapes on the walls.

[TrivialMorose]

Remembering very little of last night,

There was some video with a bunch of Japanese people in it. They were standing on a stage, it was filmed at some sort of show where they revealed the secret of some sort of supernatural mystery.
Someone said it was a lot cooler to watch this original version of the video, than any of the countless imitators.

Also saw a packet of hypnopompic sugar floating in the air.

[TrivialMorose]

Last night,

In my dream, my wife told me about a dream she'd had. In her dream, we had been going to a school together. And I had told people at the school that half of the time I wear underpants like normal, the other half I wear attack eggs, like the Esquimaux warriors do.
I reacted, like, Attack eggs, that's so cool.
And she was, like, watching me through slitted eyes and saying, How can you do that? I hope you aren't actually doing that, I hope you aren't trying to culturally appropriate me?
I laughed at her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and was like, Babe, how could I be doing that when it was your dream?

[TrivialMorose]

Not really in the mood for this, but last night, my wife and I went for a time traveling holiday by quantum leaping into the bodies of a rich couple in the sixties. The couple owned three luxury cars. One of them was black, so that was the nicest, and we took that for a road trip. My wife complained a bit because that one ate the most gasoline. I told her it didn't matter, it wasn't our money.

We stopped to fill up gas at some station, there was a nerdy guy working the pump. He greeted us with Mr. Spock hand sign. We did the same back, except that my hand was dream stiff, and so it took me a while to get it right. The nerdy guy laughed at me and said I probably didn't even know what it was. I told him that I knew very well who Spock was. Set him straight. And a cat was mentioned somewhere in there, too. A cat made of fabric, I think? Something like that.

Good night, Gothic Net.

[TrivialMorose]

I was a summer camp counselor on a dream that had two levels running simultaneously. In the beginning of the dream nothing interesting happened, and the levels were pretty much the same, but then a pivotal moment came.
A dumb game was being played at the camp, where participants crawled into a hole in the ground for a set time. It was like a rabbit hole, but there were little support beams inside it, like in a mine.
In one level I participated and crawled into the hole. In the other level I refused and went about doing other stuff.
The other stuff was again not interesting. The hole was claustrophobic and it was hard to breath in there, and I ended up passing out. That level became black unconsciousness.
Then one of the other counselors ran to me in the level where I was not in the ground, and he told me that the time was up and I could dome out. I was confused, like, What are you talking about, man?
He explained it was about the game, I had been in the hole long enough, and people were starting to worry because I wasn't coming up.
At first I was like, That is ridiculous, I refused that game. What are you trying to say.
The other counselor just went away disappointed because I didn't want to help. So then I started pondering about it, and I on that level, found a psychic link to that other level. My awake counselor self could see into the mind, and touch the mind of the unconscious self in the hole.
And so the awake one struggled really hard mentally to awaken the one in the hole. The unconscious black welcomed this help.

Then the level of the unconscious one got split into two. So, for a moment there were three levels running concurrently. In one hole level I managed to wake up, not in the hole, but back home, not a counselor anymore, thinking I had actually woken up from a dream.
Then in the awake counselor level, I was glad I succeeded, but I didn't notice that the hole level had split. I only knew about the one level where I woke up, and because of that, the connection to the level where I was still in the hole got severed. (*Added this clarification on edit* The other one, too, had been severed of course, because I had "woken up for real" in it.)
In that hole I was abandoned back into the unconscious black alone, and I couldn't win the struggle against it alone. So I suffocated and died there.
The level where I died ended, but then something pretty uncanny happened, and the mind that had just died, replaced the mind in the awake counselor level!

So now there were two levels left again, and they were completely unaware of each others' existences.
In the one where I had woken up, I logged onto Gothic Net at home and wrote about the dream I just had.
In the other one I logged onto Gothic Net at the camp, and I wrote about my experience of dying.
And then! On each level, my messages from both levels appeared on the forum! Like there existed only one Gothic Net to which both levels were logged on!
Both my minds were very bewildered at this, thinking this was bug, but then seeing the coherent writing and dismissing that impression. The two different minds started writing to each other messages through the same user logon, wondering what was going on, Is this a hacker's joke, or what? Are you for real, guy?

Then I woke up for real and came to write this. It was a pretty wild dream. I often have levels in my dreams, but I don't remember ever having this kind of intricate communication between them.

It was a really cool and interesting experience.

I was drunk when went to sleep. I wonder if that had a hand in this. If yes, then booze is a better psychedelic than I would've thought...