Dream Analysis #2
My jaws are clenched. I can’t tell if this is part of the dream or not but it feels real. My jaws are clenched and I can’t tell whether it is something I can control. It hurts a lot but it is the kind of pain that is manageable. A constant, throbbing pressure.
I momentarily forget about the ever-present pain. I look around. I’m in what appears to be an old building made of large stones. The walls are covered in moss and vines hang from above. There is a beam of light coming through a hole near the top. It was like I was inside a Mayan temple but it was more artificial. Sort of the like the one on the 90s Nickalodeon show Legends of the Hidden Temple.
A voice booms overhead. As the voice speaks, the floor around me crumbles apart and is swallowed by the abyss, and I find myself standing on a singular platform.
Dream Analysis #1
I am driving down a street near Lands End. I am not driving my own car. It is night and everything is shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. I’m looking around and all I see are tall trees and darkness stretching out in every direction. Why am I here? I seem to be driving in circles searching for something, somewhere. I check my phone and use the Maps function. I am hopelessly lost. In my own dream. I can not make out any words or letters. Or maybe they were unimportant. Either way, I know where I need to go now. I keep driving and eventually reach a massive gravel lot. I park the car and step out. It is now dawn and everything is grey, with a tinge of blue. A short distance away is a large building reminiscent of old Japanese Buddhist temples. I see a few figures milling about and some entering the building.
I remember why I am looking for this place now. This temple is actually an art school. I am here because they are having an open house and I wanted to come meet the faculty and students. I am aware that this is incredibly practical even within the dream but it is no more practical than using my GPS. I step inside the building.
The inside smells like fresh rain, fog, and Hinoki. It smells like an onsen, tucked away in the mountains of Honshu. It can not be, however, since I am clearly in San Francisco. The floor is all wood. I see a long table against one wall and a lot of people around it. There are people that work at the school sitting around the table, chatting and handing out documents. I go over and try to talk to someone behind the table. They ignore me. I grab the papers on the table but there are no words on them. Or maybe they were unimportant. I walk away from the table towards another wall with a painting. The bluish-grey light filtered in through the adjacent window. It was a massive painting, taking up the majority of the wall, but I only focused on part of it. In the bottom left corner, there was a figure, dressed in samurai garb, sitting on a horse. Separated, disconnected, apart from the rest.