The Recurring Architecture of My Dreams: Part 2 The Adult Years

So, those were my childhood dreams and the beginnings of fixed-place, lucid dreaming.

My adult recurring, lucid dreams occur in three locations:

The first is an overcrowded bus zipping along a narrow, forested mountain road somewhere in the Andes (where, for the record, I've never been). We're travelling fast on a downhill slope, mountain to the right, sheer drop off to the left when we fail to negotiate a sharp right turn and go sailing over the edge high above a city of jumbled low buildings with red tile roofs. I distinctly remember the first time this happened, part way through the fall thinking to myself, "No. I don't like this at all. Let's back up and try again," but couldn't and woke up just before impact. The second time, I did succeed in rewinding the scene a bit and became more successful at controlling the fall and the accident with each subsequent iteration. I haven't had this particular dream in years, now, and suspect it's because there's no more challenge left.

The second dream has no specific action but takes place in a large, dark, multi-story wood-frame house (at least it's all unpainted wood on the inside, I've never seen the outside. I assume it's in the Federal style) which is essentially a hollow cube with balconies on each floor running completely around an open, empty, atrium-like core. There are numerous wooden doors on each floor all the way around. I've only been in a few of them but, with one exception, they are all dark and empty with wooden floors and walls and, inevitably a secret panel behind the far wall opening on a warren of hidden passages allowing me to access almost any other room of the house without being seen (which is important for unknown reasons). The exception is a door that opens into a suite of bright, airy, cheery, sunny, interconnected rooms with numerous windows, comfortably furnished with tables and chairs, flowers and pictures, and suitable for entertaining company on a summer afternoon. No one, however, is ever there.

The third dream happens in a casino. This casino is set in a large open field surrounded by thick forest. There is a single road in through the woods which then circles the casino and leads to a large separate parking garage. The casino itself is ultra modern, three or four floors of polished wood and aluminum in the form of an oval, itself encased in a wider oval of glass in a steel frame. There's maybe a thirty foot space between the inner (wood) wall and the outer (glass) one. There are no windows or other openings in the wood casino walls except for the doors which I have never opened. I have neither been in nor seen the gaming floors. However, between the inner and outer walls there are a number of lounges, bars, restaurants, etc., reachable by escalators between floors. There are people here, unidentifiable background extras, but people nonetheless. They are all well-dressed. The only restaurant I have been in, unfortunately, is the buffet on the ground floor, where I waited in line for typical buffet fare and had a hard time finding a table. One time, I found what I thought was a restroom on the ground floor that turned out to have, in addition to a bewildering array of facilities, an extensive locker room, all arranged in a symmetrical array of dark, carved Gothic stone pillars, alcoves and passageways. And once, I started my journey to the casino from several miles away on a typical American highway, several lanes of fast traffic bordered by strings of neon-lit strip malls and "fast casual" chain restaurants. Night was coming on and the sky was purple with a bright orange sunset afterglow on the horizon. I turned left across traffic down a small lane into the woods and thence out to the casino which was bright against the dark sky and forest.

The reason these have all come back to mind recently, is that I may have started a fourth location, although it is still quite undefined in comparison. Twice now I've dreamt I was looking out a standard size window opening (there is no frame or glass) in a wall made either of concrete or stuccoed cinder block. Outside the window is a long, thin pole, much like a flag pole. I can see neither the top nor bottom. I can reach outside the window but not far enough to touch the pole. And climbing it is some sort of ghoul. This thing is almost human size. It's skin is made of dark gray leathery patches sewn together haphazardly, all except for its face which is pinkish-orange flesh sagging and folded as if melting. It has large eyes (can't recall a color) over which its eyelids droop. It has a long melty nose. The first time, I managed to reach out and push the beast back a bit, but in the second dream I missed and it crawled up out of sight.

All things considered, I'd rather hang out at the casino (or in the sun room).