lucidity

I had a lucid dream last night or early this morning. A persuasive vignette of a gauzy afternoon in my own living space. Laughs in extended echoes that recalled childhood discipline like boards of Canada introductions. A burbling fugue pushing up a mound of sand as evidence for its presence. A conversation with familiars that was anything but, and a sudden impulse to see what time it was.

The scene lacked something, or rather held some surrealistic quality that dispersed me haphazardly across a tightly scheduled calendar, and bound me in the vagaries of sunlight in midsummer. The clock, identical in construction to the one I regularly reference, displayed a dynamic and nonsensical barrage of images. I knew then that I was asleep downstairs, and I resolved to check in on myself. There was no fabled ability to fly, no ability to conjure fantastic animals or part bodies of water. Perhaps I could have done these things, however I found myself lacking in grand ideas or even the leftover brain wattage to muse creatively. I was intently focused on holding together the small universe that I knew existed only in the confines of electro-chemical mechanisms. Whole rooms constructed elementally and organically within my memory that showed no flaw simply because it would be impossible for me to recognize. I had to go see myself.

The dream ended when I made it to my room and flicked on the light. I think my brain may have been unable to deal with the implicit paradox I was about to create. I woke for a brief second and then fell back into a nightmarish vision, filtered in red, of urbanized hillbillies and their retarded spawn. I'll save the details.