before: kinokuniya and Singapore. semi-lucid, I smile to myself: I now have access to all the books in this bookstore in my dreams! I make a note that I will constantly return to this place to devour all the books while I am able to lucidly dream this.
also: humidity. I can feel the touch/taste of the air tingling my skin. everything feels more claustrophobic, immediate. the roads converge together, the buildings clasp the horizon, I can feel the rawness of the bursting sun setting, the fleshy concrete beneath my boots. It feels rawly humid, rawly real... I can smell the hawker's food, nearly taste the South East Asian aroma of strong spices and earthy milk tea. I'm slightly disconcerted upon finding myself here again, and trying to wrestle between feelings of comfort and confusion...
traveling from that Singapore-area to another destination. initially, gripping onto iron handles at the edges of a monorail of which cover refuses to shut, grappling for a hold. getting pushed off onto the railway track.
emerging from the broken railway station to a dirty tiled staircase leading from old multi-storied car parks to areas above. circling my arms to fly over the floors till I reach an open-aired temple with a floor tiled with piercing blue lapis lazuli and fractured marble pillars. the temple looks over a deep volcanic lake of the same piercing blue tucked underneath sparkling mineral hills with oyster mushroom-like houses. a queen emerges, her face a porcelain doll's, her lips painted a quizzical pale pink at the edges and on the top like a geisha's neat lips. up close, I can see clearly she is made of porcelain. she has wide, wide eyes that seem to sparkle as she gazes upon the world with a kind of quirky wonder (I thought of helena bonham carter, for some puzzling reason :D). she approaches me, her eyes pregnant with worry. "I am dying," she tells me. "I don't look it, but I'm deathly sick." She is also amused by my appearance, and laughs, teasing initially me for being such a dwarf next to her (she is a giant in her world). I perch on a broomstick that is like a mushroom cloud, gently breathing in the beautiful landscape, and memorising each and every aspect of it...
Mah, it was really, really gorgeous! If I had brilliant coloured paints like
theirea , I would be off painting this right about now :D. Hee...
The fact it was lucid just made it doubly wonderful!!
I also got the distinct impression my dreams were gently admonishing me for being too lazy of late to record them. I distinctively felt a pervading, suspended self in the atmosphere was trying to bring me back to myself (by letting me dream lucid and hence, semi-aware with memory and senses in-tact) so I'd just stop working for a moment and get back to the source of my artistic fertility. it's awesome, yes yes :3