Dream 20021010, 6:45 AM:
This dream started out with some fascinating hypnogogic imagery. I was able to watch the whole thing unfold, which I don’t often get to do – I am pleased, since this represents a greater extension of consciousness in the sleep state.
I am watching what appears to be a little movie. My field of vision is entirely dark except for this tiny screen. I see an image of a big wooden door with several inset panels; the door is dark brown, and the surrounding wall is nondescript. Then, the frame seems to change, moving upward quickly like a film movie that is moving too slow, and different images of the same door appeared, with splotches of brighter light illuminating some of the little inset panels.
Then, I’m sitting in a car. It reminds me of the green Oldsmobile, with the headliner falling down. I am trying to get it started, and it seems to be having some kind of problem starting. It seems like I’m in the blue bedroom at the Kingwood house; I don’t really see the room, but I get that impression. The headliner keeps falling down over my feet; I think I’m combining “bed” with “car.” I get out of the car and go around the front, and look at the exposed engine and try to see why it won’t start. I try turning it over again, and it sparks and spits smoke and crud out of a thing that seems like the radiator. (ND lights.) It smells bad, like when the radiator overheats. Joanna walks in to the room, and says, “It smells like rust in here,” and I tell her it’s the car.
Then, I realize that I’m dreaming. The scene shifts, and I find myself sitting at a desk or counter, looking at a big gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall above me. I look up at it, and see myself wearing a bright blue shirt. My hair is a little fuzzy, and my face seems younger. The image is very blurry, as if the mirror is old and the silver is coming off, or as if I were looking through a soft-focus lens. I say out loud, “There’s me in the mirror.” I decide that I want to go through the mirror, and I sort of pivot up and into it, as if my hands were the fulcrum and my feet were swinging up so that I kind of go into the mirror headfirst like a somersault. As I start to touch the mirror, I say, “There’s me, going into the mirror.”
I get the impression that the mirror surface is permeable. I have a little bit of sensation of going through it, but not much. I don’t carry any preconceived notion of what is behind the mirror, and I realize that perhaps I should have formulated something; I go through the mirror, but find behind it a featureless gray space. It seems like a room, but tiny; perhaps it’s just the size of the mirror. I can see the edges of the mirror frame, and the light in the room beyond.
I wake up, but don’t move at all. I lie very still for several minutes, trying to focus on the hypnogogic sounds and images.
I start to see the images of the door again, flashing by like movie frames, but then my attention returns to the room noise, and I wake up again, and then the alarm goes off.