On the way to the Brothel

10:100am

On the Way to the Brothel

I am in a wagon, there is a woman in the front with the horse rains guiding us. It is an old wagon with wide sides that flare out. Her house is just off the dirat road on the right. We have come for some sort of paid service. She is our guide.

I make a comment that you have to be careful about who you talk to or you may be harshly judged if you use the wrong words. Our guide says this is not true and take some offence. I repeat that I have heard this several times from others. I am now uncertain of the truth.

The woman who is another paying customer is on horseback. She is middled aged and very attractive. We travel down the road a bit and some to a house on the left that may sell old collectibles. We comment on it but move on.

I find myself in a large complex structure. It is put together with components of old barns and houses There is weather red paint on one of the walls. It is very unconventional. There is a very tall open room that has walls that extend at least two stories. You can see inside from all sides. It is surrounded by open spaces in the walls, staircases and pieces that swing like a door but are largely open spaces like windows.

I am involved in some convoluted task that I can not remember. I have an extended conversation with a old man who I believe owns and runs this place. He goes into another section of the house/barn and I follow him. It leads through a wall in the open room. A door like portion of the wall swings open, although it was really keeping nothing out because it had so many cutouts. I come into a much more enclosed part of the house. It becomes immediately apparent that it is a whore house. There are many women in old fashioned undergarments moving about in a very relaxed and inviting manner.

The madam sits with me and starts to discuss my needs. At one point I am to write something on a large plaque/poster. There are many places where others have written notes. It is like the writing in a year book. Each entry is unique in hand writing, length and direction the small notes are tilted toward. I begin to write my name and a note. I look back over what I have written and I can not make it out. It is not writing at all but just misshapen lines and scrawls. As we are discussing my needs my relationship with my mother is brought up and there is some doubt as to my ability to perform. It is not judgemental, just insightful and factual as if they know me intimately.

My alarm goes off.

Notes: I have just been invited into Scott Sparrow's lucid dreaming study. I am very excited and am encouraged to have a vivid dream.

What does this dream mean?

What does the dream want?  If I was lucid I would want to have more extensive conversations with the old man. The problem with my hand writing was a huge dream sign and an invitation to go lucid.