"More Fun With Telekinesis"
11/25/2009
(Lucid + False Awakening)
Part One
There was a big-time gang leader, who looked like the Haitian, from the TV show: Heroes. He was going around, just killing people in cold blood, for the smallest of reasons. My group and I were back in my old neighborhood of Canterbury, where we came across a guy who was carrying (someone I just instinctively knew to be) his own brother. There had been some kind of incident, and the one brother was hurt, really badly. When we saw them, I was going to offer to give them a ride - as the guy obviously needed medical attention, but I, then, saw that there was a black limo, pulling up beside them, before we'd gotten my car. Eventually, after some conversation that was outside of my earshot, they got inside the mysterious, black car.
I'm not sure about the details of the scene transition, but it was as if I followed them to a place that definitely was not my house (even though it turned into my house, later on in the dream). Tailing them into the house - trying to stay out of sight - I could see that they went into a back room, where I, soon, heard a lot of pleading from one of the men. I tried sneaking in closer, near to the room door, which was left ajar, in order to get a better look. Then, gunshots rang out from within. Immediately, I assumed that the two brothers had just been snubbed out, though I couldn't shake the feeling that they were innocent and didn't deserve to die.
The Haitian-looking guy suddenly came barging out of the room, with a gun in his hand, immediately seeing me and drawing the weapon on me. By this time, the surroundings were recognizable as my old house, and he backed me into what used to what my room, with the gun aimed in my face. I remember feeling much younger, now - around the age that I was at the time I actually lived in that house - and I kept pleading for him not to shoot, because I was "just a kid."
I noticed another person coming down the hall, toward the open room door and - without really asking any questions - the boss-man shot him right in front of me, and then swung the gun back to me. By this time, I was horrified, and almost certain that he was going to shoot me in the head...but he didn't. Instead, he suddenly relaxed and let me out of the room. In sheer terror, I ran down the hall and out the front door. Just as I was about to leave the front porch, though, I stopped, for a moment, and took a look around. My fear had finally brought me to realize that I'd been dreaming, this whole time, and I was never really in any danger.
Feeling empowered (if not slightly embarrassed with myself), I turned around and stormed back into the house, slamming the door behind me and walking right back down the hallway, toward where the boss-man was. I was ready to settle the score. Just as I started down the hall, he stepped out from the bedroom doorway. I broke into a sprint and, seeing me charging back toward him, he drew his gun again and raised it toward me. By then, I was already within arms-length of him, and I reached out with one hand and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from aiming the gun up to eye level. He strained against my hand and started at me, intently. I just stared right back, with a snide grin. In my mind (or should I say "consciously"?), I was expecting him to pull the trigger, and he did, firing twice into my stomach, from a few inches away. I barely even felt the bullets at all.
Letting go of his hand, I held my hand up toward him, and then swung it back toward the far end of the hallway. With the gesture, I telekinetically lifted the man off of his feet, launching him down the hallway, away from me, and into the living room. His back crashed against the far wall, and I walked, calmly, after him. When I got close, he tried to raise his gun at me, again, and I brushed it away, then grabbing him by the side of his head, with one hand. We were, now, standing right beside my old, dining room table, and I took his head and slammed it down on the hardwood top, repeatedly; shouting at him that he did "Not. Know. Who. You're....Messing with!!", each word corresponding to a crash of his head upon the table. At the final two words, I removed my hand from his head, instead focusing my gaze onto him and imagining him being driven through the table, again. Just as pictured, my telekinetic hold on him ripped his head down and smashed it through the thick, wooden surface, splintering the wood, quite vividly.
Looking back down the hall, I saw some other guy watching me with this look of shock on his face. He sprinted off, in another direction, when he saw me looking at him, and I started chasing him. I didn't really care who it was; I was just in the mood to have a little more fun, after redeeming my sense of pride against the previous "boss." Once I dashed through the laundry room, and out the back door, the stranger was jumping into a car, driven by yet another person, and they tried to get away from me as fast as they could. The car had to follow a circular path around a tree near the front of my house, which would bring them back toward me, in order to get out to the main road. Defiantly, I just stood in the way, daring them to run me down. Apparently, the driver wasn't about to try it, and he slammed on the brakes, the car stopping right in front of me.
Off to one side of us, I could see a group of neighborhood kids, walking through the intersection at the main road of my neighborhood. Showing off, a little bit, I reached out to the grill of the car, taking hold of it and spinning my body halfway, slinging the car across me, like a discus, and down the street, to the main road. The approaching people saw it coming and scattered just before the car crashed, violently, into a home. Now, the crowd was acting all frantic, like "Oh, my God, what just happened??! Why'd you do that?! Are they alright??!" And I had to laugh, a little bit. I walked toward the kids and told them to calm down, because this was all just a dream, and no one is really hurt. One of the child DC's wanted me to prove that this wasn't real, so I started looking for something to use more telekinesis on. As if by nonvocal cue, the DC gave me a metal rod and told me to bend it with my mind. Before I even consciously started to try to bend it, the rod drooped over to one side. I said "see?" and tossed it aside.
Everyone was astonished. They went from being horrified, to yelling "do something else!!" So, I thought for a second and then got an interesting idea. I held my right hand up in front of me and stared at my palm. Drawing my focal point to one side, I commanded the arm to snap, midway up the forearm. It broke at a right angle, but the skin stayed intact. Using my gaze like a knife, I made an incision, diagonally, across the bend, severing the hand from the arm, completely. There was no pain, whatsoever, and no blood, though I could see the meat and bone on the inside of the stump. It was very PG-13. Keeping the show going, I caused the severed hand to slide up and down the length of my arm, on its stump, and then perch back upon the end of my forearm and reattach itself. Everyone there was completely floored, including myself. (That had to have been one of the trippiest lucid "tricks" I've ever tried.) Shortly after this display, I could feel the dream fading. I tried to pull it back together, but I couldn't, and "woke up".
Part Two
(False Awakening)
When I "woke," the Haitian-looking dude was sitting at my computer, staring, intently, at the screen, though I couldn't see what was on it. Still groggy, and not completely aware of what was happening, I passively said "Ey, man. You gotta get up. I need to use that." He took a look at me, glanced back toward the screen and simply said "I'm not moving."
Before I knew it, there was a gun in my hand.
I was on virtual auto-pilot, at this point, and I just aimed the gun up and shot him in the wrist. He jumped out of the chair, clutching his arm and screaming bloody murder. Calmly, still unaware that this was just a false awakening (despite the ridiculousness of the situation), I got up from the bed and walked over to him, like "It's ok, buddy. You're ok.," consoling him rather sarcastically, and I told him "you might want to go get that looked at, though" and just laughed. Then, disregarding him completely, I sat down at my computer chair, to type up the notes on the lucid dream I'd just had, previously. Then, this false awakening also began fading away, and I woke up, for real.
There was a big-time gang leader, who looked like the Haitian, from the TV show: Heroes. He was going around, just killing people in cold blood, for the smallest of reasons. My group and I were back in my old neighborhood of Canterbury, where we came across a guy who was carrying (someone I just instinctively knew to be) his own brother. There had been some kind of incident, and the one brother was hurt, really badly. When we saw them, I was going to offer to give them a ride - as the guy obviously needed medical attention, but I, then, saw that there was a black limo, pulling up beside them, before we'd gotten my car. Eventually, after some conversation that was outside of my earshot, they got inside the mysterious, black car.
I'm not sure about the details of the scene transition, but it was as if I followed them to a place that definitely was not my house (even though it turned into my house, later on in the dream). Tailing them into the house - trying to stay out of sight - I could see that they went into a back room, where I, soon, heard a lot of pleading from one of the men. I tried sneaking in closer, near to the room door, which was left ajar, in order to get a better look. Then, gunshots rang out from within. Immediately, I assumed that the two brothers had just been snubbed out, though I couldn't shake the feeling that they were innocent and didn't deserve to die.
The Haitian-looking guy suddenly came barging out of the room, with a gun in his hand, immediately seeing me and drawing the weapon on me. By this time, the surroundings were recognizable as my old house, and he backed me into what used to what my room, with the gun aimed in my face. I remember feeling much younger, now - around the age that I was at the time I actually lived in that house - and I kept pleading for him not to shoot, because I was "just a kid."
I noticed another person coming down the hall, toward the open room door and - without really asking any questions - the boss-man shot him right in front of me, and then swung the gun back to me. By this time, I was horrified, and almost certain that he was going to shoot me in the head...but he didn't. Instead, he suddenly relaxed and let me out of the room. In sheer terror, I ran down the hall and out the front door. Just as I was about to leave the front porch, though, I stopped, for a moment, and took a look around. My fear had finally brought me to realize that I'd been dreaming, this whole time, and I was never really in any danger.
Feeling empowered (if not slightly embarrassed with myself), I turned around and stormed back into the house, slamming the door behind me and walking right back down the hallway, toward where the boss-man was. I was ready to settle the score. Just as I started down the hall, he stepped out from the bedroom doorway. I broke into a sprint and, seeing me charging back toward him, he drew his gun again and raised it toward me. By then, I was already within arms-length of him, and I reached out with one hand and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from aiming the gun up to eye level. He strained against my hand and started at me, intently. I just stared right back, with a snide grin. In my mind (or should I say "consciously"?), I was expecting him to pull the trigger, and he did, firing twice into my stomach, from a few inches away. I barely even felt the bullets at all.
Letting go of his hand, I held my hand up toward him, and then swung it back toward the far end of the hallway. With the gesture, I telekinetically lifted the man off of his feet, launching him down the hallway, away from me, and into the living room. His back crashed against the far wall, and I walked, calmly, after him. When I got close, he tried to raise his gun at me, again, and I brushed it away, then grabbing him by the side of his head, with one hand. We were, now, standing right beside my old, dining room table, and I took his head and slammed it down on the hardwood top, repeatedly; shouting at him that he did "Not. Know. Who. You're....Messing with!!", each word corresponding to a crash of his head upon the table. At the final two words, I removed my hand from his head, instead focusing my gaze onto him and imagining him being driven through the table, again. Just as pictured, my telekinetic hold on him ripped his head down and smashed it through the thick, wooden surface, splintering the wood, quite vividly.
Looking back down the hall, I saw some other guy watching me with this look of shock on his face. He sprinted off, in another direction, when he saw me looking at him, and I started chasing him. I didn't really care who it was; I was just in the mood to have a little more fun, after redeeming my sense of pride against the previous "boss." Once I dashed through the laundry room, and out the back door, the stranger was jumping into a car, driven by yet another person, and they tried to get away from me as fast as they could. The car had to follow a circular path around a tree near the front of my house, which would bring them back toward me, in order to get out to the main road. Defiantly, I just stood in the way, daring them to run me down. Apparently, the driver wasn't about to try it, and he slammed on the brakes, the car stopping right in front of me.
Off to one side of us, I could see a group of neighborhood kids, walking through the intersection at the main road of my neighborhood. Showing off, a little bit, I reached out to the grill of the car, taking hold of it and spinning my body halfway, slinging the car across me, like a discus, and down the street, to the main road. The approaching people saw it coming and scattered just before the car crashed, violently, into a home. Now, the crowd was acting all frantic, like "Oh, my God, what just happened??! Why'd you do that?! Are they alright??!" And I had to laugh, a little bit. I walked toward the kids and told them to calm down, because this was all just a dream, and no one is really hurt. One of the child DC's wanted me to prove that this wasn't real, so I started looking for something to use more telekinesis on. As if by nonvocal cue, the DC gave me a metal rod and told me to bend it with my mind. Before I even consciously started to try to bend it, the rod drooped over to one side. I said "see?" and tossed it aside.
Everyone was astonished. They went from being horrified, to yelling "do something else!!" So, I thought for a second and then got an interesting idea. I held my right hand up in front of me and stared at my palm. Drawing my focal point to one side, I commanded the arm to snap, midway up the forearm. It broke at a right angle, but the skin stayed intact. Using my gaze like a knife, I made an incision, diagonally, across the bend, severing the hand from the arm, completely. There was no pain, whatsoever, and no blood, though I could see the meat and bone on the inside of the stump. It was very PG-13. Keeping the show going, I caused the severed hand to slide up and down the length of my arm, on its stump, and then perch back upon the end of my forearm and reattach itself. Everyone there was completely floored, including myself. (That had to have been one of the trippiest lucid "tricks" I've ever tried.) Shortly after this display, I could feel the dream fading. I tried to pull it back together, but I couldn't, and "woke up".
Part Two
(False Awakening)
When I "woke," the Haitian-looking dude was sitting at my computer, staring, intently, at the screen, though I couldn't see what was on it. Still groggy, and not completely aware of what was happening, I passively said "Ey, man. You gotta get up. I need to use that." He took a look at me, glanced back toward the screen and simply said "I'm not moving."
Before I knew it, there was a gun in my hand.
I was on virtual auto-pilot, at this point, and I just aimed the gun up and shot him in the wrist. He jumped out of the chair, clutching his arm and screaming bloody murder. Calmly, still unaware that this was just a false awakening (despite the ridiculousness of the situation), I got up from the bed and walked over to him, like "It's ok, buddy. You're ok.," consoling him rather sarcastically, and I told him "you might want to go get that looked at, though" and just laughed. Then, disregarding him completely, I sat down at my computer chair, to type up the notes on the lucid dream I'd just had, previously. Then, this false awakening also began fading away, and I woke up, for real.
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