I’m writing this weeks after I dreamed it, so here goes…
In waking life, I had just bought a PSVR, but I hadn’t set it up, yet.
I remember being in a house and knowing it was some new VR technology where the AI gets used to the neural pathways of the player (like that one Black Mirror episode) and the characters and environments get more realistic as time goes on. I remember tips about shooting and was a little prepared. I could hear the researchers in the room as I played.
The first few enemies looked like old-school 3D games like Resident Evil 4 and were easy to shoot. I remember thinking I could see old-school 3D pistols, but it felt like Vive hand controllers. I remember that the end of the level had a boss (this one was some middle-aged heavy-set blond lady) that someone in the lab said everyone fails and gets killed by her. I used a virtual wall to take cover – something other players don’t usually do because they don’t think about the environment in a 3D way at first – and defeated her.
I went through the house and into a kitchen with white cabinets and a hardwood floor. I was so concerned about shooting my enemies, I didn’t explore as much as I would normally. I did open one cabinet (similar action and feeling to a Vive) just to see if I could and there were supplies. Each level featured new characters with different actions. It started with shooting standing people, then moving people who shot back, then characters who would take strategic cover. Each new level had more detailed characters as well and they looked like real people eventually. Even my weapons were becoming more lifelike in weight and feel.
I went to the basement and there was a new character. I threw a grenade that I crafted with the materials in the cabinets and drawers at him, but it missed and bounced near the stairs. The character went over and poured a 5-gallon jug of gasoline on it and near me and lit a match. I didn’t think I could hit the moving character, so I shot the bomb to make it explode. I was too close and the explosion burnt my left arm. It BURNED and left blisters. I thought it was so awesome that the game was so well designed, I could feel injuries!
Later, I remember different people and crowds and I couldn’t tell if I was still in the dream. I no longer heard the people in the lab, but I remember an “Agent” character that might have been a “Man in Black” that I was for sure was an enemy in the dream. He reached for his gun and I got up and shot him…but not really. The guy was taking out a cell phone and I was pointing an invisible gun at him. The guy to my right looked at me as if I were crazy.
The coolest thing about this dream was that there were so many game dynamics from leveling, to character types, to looting and crafting, etc. It needed a plot, though.
Yesterday, I played and accomplished a lot in Watchdogs, played a little of Game of Thrones (I’m looking at the decision trees), and watched some Last of Us playthrough videos.
I remember my friend Jenn having a trip and a room booked on a cruise (small boat, like a commuter version), but she couldn’t go. She offered the ticket to me as long as I delivered her stuff.
In a later dream, it happened again, but she didn’t have a room. I was frustrated because I had no place to store her stuff safely for the three-hour trip. I found a common sink and wrapped up her things – including these beautiful dark blue glass glasses – hoping they didn’t look like things to steal and put them underneath. I charged my phone and found an old flip phone, but didn’t have the right charger for it. A stranger had one and offered it.
I remember visiting my parents and parking right outside of their open garage, but had my lights off. I honked. I remember turning my lights on and saw I almost hit some tall red display cart.
I put my car in reverse to back up, but couldn’t park my car (a button). I woke up getting frustrated that it’s like when I can’t dial 9-1-1 in dreams. Buttons don’t seem to work.
I remember a dream game that had characters (not animated) in a team that reminded me a little of Team Fortress 2. I heard Overwatch is similar, but I haven’t played that, yet. For some reason, the females, like myself, chose normal-sized and normal-looking humans. One girl was way my promiscuous than the rest of us and I actually complimented her on her confidence, despite her constant want for all the women to show more skin.
I remember we were all trying to go over plans and introduce each other in a small dorm room. I found a gold-plated badge with a player’s ID number and knew the two letters were the initials of the player. I asked if anyone’s real name had the initials, “G as in Gregory and H as in……Hotel?”
There was a part where each person got some kind of ring that gave them powers. A tall lanky character said, “The rings have puzzlers, I tell you!” and another character commented how it made them feel “royal.” The big, muscular character explained, “In all my years of casting rings, I have never seen rings form to each finger automatically. They appear to be magic.”
I remember the winners on my runs were always the survivors – not the best players or leaders, but we won by default. The teams I was on (and often led) tended to be raunchy, chaotic, and immature. My leading style in the game was so laisez-faire that I remember pairing up with a guy who would make inappropriate jokes, but never really reprimanded him – I would just tell people to ignore him.
I saw a glimpse of Charlie’s* “world” (as I called it). He had a better team and was a better leader. The pair was of two professional women and the whole team would survive and the “winners” were based on points and leadership.
There was a scene where I was in a uniform/light-weight armor of some sort and running through a grassy environment near Charlie and we had our IDs in text above our heads. I tried to remember his, knowing it was a dream game, hoping I’d remember when I was awake.
It was 108CS4042…. something (it might have been 109 and the number and initials have been changed to protect the identity this Charlie is based on). The numbers following the initials I don’t think were relevant data, but I remembered them because they were near Charlie’s football jersey number, 41. I’m not sure what the first three numbers stood for, if anything.
I remember talking to someone dressed like the main character on Watchdogs and I remember considering the guy a trustworthy acquaintance, despite having people – as well as the federal government – after him.
We were on a city street at twilight just outside a building with a digital billboard and a camera to the right. I thought he was gutsy for standing outside a camera like that, but it wasn’t his face that was being tracked. He hacked things with his phone – with apps that would be cumbersome to load on burner phones – so the SID was tracked instead. He had an app that would warn him when his SID triggered an alarm, so he would have to go into airplane mode and leave the area.
I thought about asking him about that app the next time.
When I woke up, I thought that would be an interesting way to track people who can’t do their activities on burner phones. Facial recognition can be fooled, SIDs probably can as well, but limiting the ability to use a communication device would be a smart way for law enforcement to deter some crimes.
I remember “investigating” Charlie* – trying to get usernames or something – and found a profile with his info on a Russian website. I only knew it was Russian from the .ru at the end of the address.
I was looking into this at “work” (in my dream, it was at what I called my “old” job). Charlie worked there as well in another department. Someone in his department was testing some expandable turret, but it didn’t have enough room in the hall. The room I was in had an angled, but higher ceiling, so I invited them in to test it there.
During the test, the one guy wanted me to look up something on my computer and went over to look at the results before I even got that far. I started getting nervous because I had all this info about Charlie on the screen. I tried to switch screens, go back, SOMETHING…but…buttons don’t work in dreams.
* Name has been changed
I remember some random scene where I was in a large room with walls added to break up the place. I remember it being messy and there were two doors into other rooms. One had a men’s sign on it – I’m sure it was from a funny short film I watched yesterday – but it wasn’t leading to a restroom.
I remember a scene where someone tossed a revolver and bullets in front of me to use. I don’t like revolvers, but I loaded it and was prepared to shoot people that might attack the other main characters as they looked around. They doubted my skill, but I didn’t.
Throughout the scene, I kept referring to it as a “training exercise.”
I remember being on a rooftop with a sniper rifle and a goal to shoot some guy. He was originally played by an actor, so I thought it was part of a dream game. Some other character was being suspicious out of view to distract the guy and his bodyguard. I aimed at his head. This was probably because I found a sniper rifle in the game I played before going to bed.
Someone told me that it was the dream game’s programming that told me it was an actor and all part of a game. The name of the real guy I was aiming at was [redacted]. I even asked, [name with slightly different spelling] and someone went, “No. [name spelled out and clarified]” I thought, “When I wake up, I’ll look up that name.” The dream game was still in control with an objective to shoot the guy (now changed to look like someone I didn’t recognize) in the head. I fired, but he moved to look at something and my bullet barely scratched the passenger side of the car he was standing in front of.
Note: I looked up the man’s name on Google when I woke up. The results showed a guy who was involved in protests and non-profit organizations that try to take power away from the government and monopolistic corporations and give them back to the people. I’ve never heard of this guy before this dream, but I won’t put his name here because he is confronting people who probably would have no problem paying someone to take him out to protect their interests. I hope that guy doesn’t have to deal with something like my dream where I played a character that didn’t care about the people I killed, I just had an objective and did what I could to complete my mission.
Note: This comes after a 4-day vacation in Washington, D.C. and marathoning Twilight Zone on Netflix…
I remember being in an underwater “ship” and my job was to help dock our ship with other ships. The docking area was a glass hexagonal opening with glass around it. Something happened and a “crew” and I had to evacuate and run from some other group.
I remember random memories of grabbing red bags to escape before the pursuing group got there. There was also some random memory of being in ski gear and walking over snowy land.
The next part I remember is walking into a hotel-like area with the others in an Asian area. Since there were no windows and everything was connected, it could have been underground or part of some large ship, etc. I remember bowing as if I had gotten into the habit on a previous trip and I remembered thinking I could speak Japanese.
This was a red flag for me. I don’t know Japanese and neither did the character in the dream.
I walked through the area, which looked like it was modeled after Bangkok, but was Japanese, and the place I was walking through I think was something like a brothel. I thought the girls were there for one purpose. My character thought about how I’d style my hair to fit in and how cool the kimonos were. However, there was “background thoughts” that were male and less verbal than my own.
I remember later going into a room and realized what was happening. The “crew” was nearby. I willed the body’s hand to move and pound the bed as a said, “What happened? Where is MY body?”
I felt the guy’s whose body I was in get worried and afraid of this loss of control. One of the more leader-y crew members spoke to me saying they had no choice. To save me and lose my body, they transferred my consciousness into a crew member’s body to share until they had a chance to find another body.
This technology was invented to allow people to experience things from others’ point of views and return to their body. Usually, the second consciousness can just watch and is advised against moving the body. The fact that I did so scared the host. It also made me so connected to the body, that I felt the weight and pain the body felt because I couldn’t withdraw as easily to an observer role.
This showed up when the host was clearing the bed of roleplaying costumes for the other customers. The host wasn’t really into all that stuff. I remember one costume was heavy samurai armor. I was worried that the longer I was in this host, the more of his memories would get mixed with mine and I wondered how the mind would consolidate us into one consciousness.
I remember being in a room with standard gray flat carpet. I was sitting in a chair and chatting with a friend to my right about something. He was the friend who trained me when I was going through CCW training in waking life a few years ago.
In the dream, he was a contractor or engineer or something in charge of updating the structure of some of the buildings. I asked him when a certain building was going to be updated and he said another building had to be updated first. It was something like a play on the Pentagon, like the “Dodecahedron” or something and we talked about the crazy naming of buildings. We joked about how they could be named after people like the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Library, you know, after famous people with at least three names.
A training activity began at the front of the class (a corner of the room). I had a pistol (it was given to me as part of whatever program/job I was in) sitting on the chair in front of me, covered up by a navy blue coat (also part of the program). I remember others standing and one girl saying, “That’s a real loaded gun!” I could kinda see someone pointed a gun at the head of some guy in a chair. I thought, “Duh, this training would not be as good if it weren’t.”
The task was to find out if the guy was lying about being an archer. An enlarged form was to their left, but my vision was blurry. I thought, “Gah. It’s so hard to see sometimes in dreams.” I had a similar form that I was supposed to fill out, but I got distracted talking to my friend. Since it was useless trying to look up his blown up form, I thought I’d use mine for clues as I filled it out.
The others asked questions to see if they could complete the task. I started filling out the part of the form for “education.” I started with Columbus State, frustrated that I wrote so poorly in dreams, and I questioned if I should have put my high school or is that given because I’ve been to college?
I woke up. Frustrated I was leaving a dream at an interesting moment, I was able to go back.
When I “spawned,” I was just outside the classroom door and had to open it. I remember forcing myself to focus on details to keep the dream going and to become more detailed. The room’s wall was glass with a linear design that went through the center. The door had a simple lock and a narrow metal bar as the handle that made a triangle with the door. There was a government seal of some sort on the main part of the door.
I opened the door and went in. The activity was over, but the leading agent guy gave me a shout out for providing the best-trained pilots. I thanked him and thought, “He’s just being nice. The other trainers probably do just as well.”
We broke to go out for physical training on steps just outside the building. (I pictured the blueprint for these.) Outside, it was a city street (probably Washington, D.C., that I just visited in waking life) and the steps were in three sets. We jogged up and down them and the agent guy singled me out to talk as we jogged. He said he meant what he said inside – that the methods I use work well. I explained that I had the pilots perform things over and over, including purposely having their planes stall and have them get out of the stall, so, eventually, the feeling of the plane stalling won’t make them panic and instead, instinctually act to fix the problem without having to think.
I remember so many dreams with snow. One was sleep paralysis where I was almost buried with an avalanche of snow from the sky. I wondered how that was possible and there were “credits” scrolling as I tried to avoid being buried.
In another dream, I remember thinking the snow was “old” and dug at it until I found pavement.