acb

A few observations from last night's dreams:

Apparently Freud (or whoever) was wrong in saying that you cannot perceive smells in dreams. I dreamt that I had boarded an old train; it looked somewhere between one of the blue trains in Melbourne that got scrapped in the late 1980s and one of those old British Rail sprinters they still run in the sleepier parts of England; lino floors, aluminium windows which opened to some degree, flat vinyl benches. And it smelled of must and mildew, which for some reason seemed homely and comforting. (Then again, that may have been a textual description in a recursive dream.)

Apparently I can do lucid dreaming, only my dreams crash when I do so (or I expect them to). I dreamt that I was, for some reason, in Ferntree Gully (an outer suburb about an hour from anything of interest, where I lived some four or five years ago). I was, walking to the railway station to catch the train to the city, and watching my train pull in, being a good minute or two from the station, and unlikely to catch the train even if I ran. The next one was in 40 minutes, and I would miss an appointment.

I knew that i was dreaming, and said something like "make it so I'm at the station now". The universe obliged, but stopped moving on; the story from there onward wouldn't advance in any way except for what I said, as if it detected I was using a cheat.

I'm not sure whether this is normal or a symptom of my having the flu.