I had two nightmares last night. I don't normally remember my dreams; this is unusual.
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In the first nightmare, I had been brought in to help a stranger overcome his neurosis. While he slept we would each wear headgear, and the electrical patterns in his brain would be projected into mine. I would experience his dream as a waking, alert but paralyzed observer. The next morning, it would be my job to explain to him what I saw, and we could talk through all the hidden issues he was wrestling with so that he could unknot them.
His dream was placid, interrupted by moments of traumas, real or imagined. There was one moment where we were trapped inside a house, inside a song. It was a blasting tune that I knew I loved, but instead I felt his terror at the song, and heard the words as they'd been twisted in his hearing.
- - - - - -
The second nightmare started as I stepped aboard an elevator. I pressed the up button, but it didn't move. Again, and again, pressing, until in frustration I slammed the keypad. The down button depressed and the floor number started to plummet, like hundredths-of-seconds spot on a countdown. I slammed the other buttons in a panic, though there was no sensation of falling, and by the time I got the elevator to stop, the readout had clicked through hundreds of stories down. Still, the elevator wouldn't go up, not even just to get back to ground level. Again, frustration, desperation, and desperate presses leading to a plummet.
The third time this happened, I stopped, opened the elevator doors and stepped out into a strange hall. Picking a door at random, I walked through into a residence. A woman was inside, looking at me in terror as if she expected me to be a demon in disguise.
After that the nightmare fades from memory.
- - - - - -
I awoke feeling like I'd had my best rest in ages.
- - - - - -
In the first nightmare, I had been brought in to help a stranger overcome his neurosis. While he slept we would each wear headgear, and the electrical patterns in his brain would be projected into mine. I would experience his dream as a waking, alert but paralyzed observer. The next morning, it would be my job to explain to him what I saw, and we could talk through all the hidden issues he was wrestling with so that he could unknot them.
His dream was placid, interrupted by moments of traumas, real or imagined. There was one moment where we were trapped inside a house, inside a song. It was a blasting tune that I knew I loved, but instead I felt his terror at the song, and heard the words as they'd been twisted in his hearing.
- - - - - -
The second nightmare started as I stepped aboard an elevator. I pressed the up button, but it didn't move. Again, and again, pressing, until in frustration I slammed the keypad. The down button depressed and the floor number started to plummet, like hundredths-of-seconds spot on a countdown. I slammed the other buttons in a panic, though there was no sensation of falling, and by the time I got the elevator to stop, the readout had clicked through hundreds of stories down. Still, the elevator wouldn't go up, not even just to get back to ground level. Again, frustration, desperation, and desperate presses leading to a plummet.
The third time this happened, I stopped, opened the elevator doors and stepped out into a strange hall. Picking a door at random, I walked through into a residence. A woman was inside, looking at me in terror as if she expected me to be a demon in disguise.
After that the nightmare fades from memory.
- - - - - -
I awoke feeling like I'd had my best rest in ages.
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In fact, I recall hearing that a lot of very good documentaries have come out recently. That might be a category generally worth looking into.