12th October 12:10am – Dream

The structure he builds is a simple one. After 5 MDT (Minutes Dream-time) he works out how he can use his imagination to create building tools, and building materials. It is a circular house, for one man, built of sticks, with a cone roof. I look inside and find simple furnishings, which I question about.

"The same furnishings from my room at home," he replies.

It appears my subject is quite fond of these memories. I see feminine influences on the furnishings, this must be a room his ex-wife had been a part of, maybe their bedroom? I will not press the issue, so as not to bring his ex-wife into the dream. For some reason his mind has not filled the dream with projections.

Destroy it, I say.

He looks at me questioningly, "What? Why? That took me ages to build."

I tell him I need him to trust me, and that I don't like it.

A psychologist is supposed to be non-judgmental, neutral… But I've come up with some of my own tricks over the years.

"You ask me to build you a house, and now you want me to destroy it because you don't like it? What is this?"

I don't answer, instead, just look at him until he obliges.

Eventually, he agrees. I'm wary of time, we shall soon wake up. Hopefully he'll have gotten the hang of the basics and this next step will be much faster.
He shrugs, and starts taking the house apart, stick by stick, but the furnishings out neatly and laying them carefully on the ground.

You lack imagination, I say, this is a dream-world, your dream-world… you don't have to be so careful, I urge.

The subject doesn't respond. He's a stubborn one. I'm trying to make him realise we could get the job done much faster if he… imagined a chainsaw or set it ablaze.
One thing I notice as I wait for him, the sky is very unsettled, very storm like in here. Yet it is silent all around us, like he is waiting. I fear he may be holding something back…
Once he has finished, and the sticks are lying on the ground, I set him on the next task.

Re-build the house, I say.

Confusion twists his features, but as he goes to grab the sticks, I set them on fire.

Use your imagination, I repeat, a little more forced.

This time, he doesn't argue as much, but builds faster. He is still using sticks which he imagines up, so I set fire to each one as he places it.

"Why are you doing that?" he asks.

I don't answer.

His attitude changes slightly, I feel a spot of rain on my face. His mind is getting tired of the labour. The sticks become bricks so I can't burn them. I smile to myself. If I am going to help this man, I need it to thunder… and pour… and hail, I need the full release of emotions that these clouds are holding.
This time, the house is small. He did build it faster, and we'll wake up very soon. I go inside and see the same furnishings as before.

How do we build a house? I ask.

"Start with the foundations, and build up from there," the subject answers.

I walk outside the house and lift it up with my hand.

But your house has no foundations, I say, so is this a house?

"I guess not," he replies.

This is a room, I say, a room that you keep filling with the same memory. A room that can be destroyed as easily as it can be built. Before we leave here, I want you to do one more thing.

"Which is?"

Destroy it.


-Outside Dream

Don't worry; I say as he wakes up, we're not done in there yet. I've resurfaced you to have a chat.

The room you created, those furnishings you decorated it with, where were they from?

"My room at home… our room, or what used to be our room."

Does it look the same now?

"No, I threw out most of her stuff."

So why are you bringing it back into your dream?

He pauses to think, "I guess… Because it looked so nice. We worked together to decorate it and… it was a nice place to be in."

You built a room, I say, not a house. Your room had no foundations, it had no… life. I'm going to take us back in, and I want you to build another house. This time I want to see the foundations, but I don't want to see any furnishings at all.

I set us for 5 seconds; about 5 hours Dream Time.

"Am I not supposed to ask how this works?" he asks looking at the machine.

I tell him, I don't think it's a case of not being allowed to, more, a case of not needing to.

He dreams us back to the field almost straight away.


"How come the bricks are still here?" he asks.

When we do a job, or complete a task, we leave an impression on our brain. Your sub-conscious has bought the ruins of your house back to us because we completed the task, and you were probably anticipating a return. Through the use of the device we can shape your sub-conscious, build on it, and create memories from within almost. What we are doing is shaping your world, your brain will then feed it right back to us when we re-enter, and you won't even know you're doing it.

"Ok, so, build a house with foundations?"

I nod my head and once again sit down and wait.

Build a better house, I suggest.

"I wouldn't have had enough time last time to build a whole house, how could I do it with… five seconds?"

With less chatting and more building, I reply, eventually, you'll become so engrossed you'll find the house just… begins to build itself.

That's the idea. It doesn't incept itself; we're not deep enough for that. But it causes him to pause and look at what he's doing. I watch his eyes plan the shape in the ground, he sees the house in front of him, but it is not yet built.

"Can I have some paper and a pen?" he asks.

No, I say, you don't need them.

"I'll forget my ideas though," he complains.

I don't think you will, I reply.

Sure enough, the outline of his house starts to form in mid-air. As if he was drawing on a canvas of the sky.

What did he see? The outline of a house, with four windows and a door on the front, etched into the very fabric of his dream that he could now build around.

What did I see? Progress.