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Post 18: Dream

I have deja vu dreams sometimes and they strange when it happens. In my dream the image is like snapshot of a perspective and then I will have a deja vu moment at most 6 months later. It is peculiar sensations when it happens. It would be cool to think that I can see snapshots of my own future in my dreams.

Post 28: Reflection on the Course

I loved this class! It was informative and the workload was what I expected for a senior class. Even though I changed my idea for my research project, the process for preparing for the workshop was very helpful.

The material was interesting and fun. I used to be a psychology major so it was interesting see how the theories evolved and apply them to literature and other forms of media.

Post 27: Revising my research project

My research project when through many, many changes. However, I am happy with the final result. I ended up throwing out my original idea and came up with a brand new one. I researched the dream elements in Nathaniel Hawthorne short stories. It came together quite well. Remember the dream I had about using what theorist to apply to the work and I ended up using Hartmann with references to Freud and Jung. So that problem was solved. I am very happy with my draft and tried to remain focused on my ideas, now all I have to do is polish up and refine my ideas and streamline my paper.

Post 25: Finishing the Unconsoled

I am going to be honest, I didn’t finish the novel. I had a other work that handed to be done and the only time I have to read is on the subway/bus when I go to work, which doesn’t leave me a lot of time. However, I did get halfway through the book and to be honest, not my kind of story. The idea and execution was interesting, I think the language of the novel it was did for me. The language in the novel felt rigid, I couldn’t really get into it.

Post 23: Reading The Unconsoled

Reading The Unconsoled, it is pretty easy to get into and then Ishiguro trips you up with the scene Ryder and the porter showing in the room. Then he starts narrating a story of a person that he just apparently met. I was a but confused at first that I can to go back a few pages to make sure that I haven’t missed anything. After that moment the novel reminded of the Kafka stories that we had read. The only difference is in the Kafka stories the protagonist did not narrate the lives of everyone else like Ryder did. I felt that the omnipresent narration in The Unconsoled was confusing, frustrating at times and sometimes felt that I was knowing a bit too much.

Post 26: Dream

I was walking North on Kissena Blvd. I looked left toward the West and saw a woman standing on a tall building. She was very close to the edge and stood out as a dark blotch against the bright sky. “She is going to jump” I thought to myself, and she did. I watched her fall from the building and land without a noise somewhere out of view. I looked down and to my right, I saw a young, homeless man smashed on the pavement. He was filthy and scraggly and very dead, a combination that aroused no pity. I decided to approach the building from which the woman jumped to see how flat she had become as a result of the impact. As I approached I noticed another woman approach the ledge and take a dive. “How unusual” I thought to myself. When I had finally arrived at the building I didn’t see the women’s corpses but I did see the corpse of the young, homeless guy. I stared at the corpse, but I soon lost interest as it was all too familiar.

I looked at the roof and saw a woman take position at the ledge of the roof. I grew concerned but did nothing to interrupt her. She was a young woman, in her twenties, of athletic build. She was dressed in tight, black, form fitting spandex and a tight black tank top. She leapt gracefully from the roof, and descended the length of the building by catching the edges of the balconies and subsequently bouncing from one to another balcony in a downward zigzag. She used the two rows of balconies to skillfully descend and land in a gymnastic position. I thought that I must have been witnessing a parkour competition with only one competent competitor. Bummer about the other girls I thought, but that’s why it’s an extreme sport.

Post 24:Dream

I was walking out of a house onto a frozen street in the middle of a bright day. I was escaping some sort of trouble. Someone was after me but I was in an excellent mood as I felt superior to my pursuers. They didn’t know that I was very willing to drop my entire life in a second and escape into the great unknown. I was propelled gleefully over the ice by my boots. The theme of sliding on the ice at high speed is a repeating theme in my dreams. I slid across the ice until I came out to an open area with beautiful ice reflecting many beautiful colors and a greenish hue. I saw many families of large beavers walking across the area toward the train. I was gaining on one of these families, when the big “papa” beaver turned around and brandished his foot long claws. He raised his arms into the air to appear large and intimidating. I decided to keep my distance from a fearful and dangerous animal.

I approached the train that was already departing and held on to the hand rail as I got in. The situation inside was closer to a bus than a train as I could see the conductor. Behind him was a young man, a surfer celebrity. He sat in small area draped in curtains. On his left there was a bong and a skull shaped pipe. I talked to him for a short while. I was shocked to see how openly he smoked marijuana on the train.

Shortly thereafter I headed toward the back of the train to look for a room to situate myself in. We walked toward the back, me and someone special, I don’t know who it was, the further we walked the more luxurious the cabins became. I said that we should keep walking as I wanted to be in a train car with a bathroom. As we walked further the train cars were huge each room bigger than the one I live in now. The rooms were filled with large and comfy looking beds draped in golden duvets. In one room I saw a child that looked tiny in the large bed. I was so small I could barely see over the bed. I stepped outside the room into the luxurious train car, I had to keep moving.

Post 22: Dream

My friend’s first attempt at lucid dreaming.

On a dark night colored in tones of brown I was gliding over “above ground” subway tracks. At first the situation was quite standard, not counting my gravity defying mode of travel. The back drop was urban brown stone and the tracks were supported by the expected beams and girders. However as I flew I realized that the backdrop was being consumed by darkness and the bright brown train tracks wound up and down and side to side in a wild undulating fashion.

I soon realized that I was not flying alone, my brother was with me. The ride stopped and the urban brown backdrop returned. My brother and I floated over to a nearby balcony and stood inside it. I knew that I was dreaming and he agreed that I was. We exchanged wordless thoughts on the level of control one can exercise in a dream. I looked over at the short brick boundary that was the edge of the balcony.

I waved my energy at the wall and it collapsed into individual and undamaged bricks. With a retreat of energy back into myself I recollected the bricks into the form of the balcony. I disassembled and reassembled the balcony several times. It was an exercise and I feel that I did well. I hope to receive more such opportunities.

Post 21: Lucid Dreaming

I never really wanted to control what happens in my dreams, but when I was a child a could wake myself up from a nightmare very easily when it got too scary. I have a friend that likes to practice controlling his dreams and dreams his has are always fun to hear about because they are so vivid. Most of the dreams on this site are his, because he likes to share them and get comments about them. La Berge’s The World of Lucid Dreaming, was like a beginner guide book on how to control your dreams. Some of the steps I noticed were some of the same things Robert Louis Stevenson did to help him sleep to that he can dream effectively. Maybe he was influenced by a dream, but may have had a more active role in his dream. His mind working and putting together ideas, like a sketch book of ideas.

Post 20: Dream

I as having a tough time with my paper,  I wasn’t sure what theorist to use. I was continually turning all theories in my mind. That night, I had a dream that I was talking to a large bearded head and in my dream I recognized Freud and Jung. When I talked to the head about Freudian theories it was Freud and when I talked to it about Jungian theories it was Jung. My dreams were helping me solve my problem.

 

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