Thanks

I've always wanted to know how to control myself in dreams. It seemed like everyone around me knew how to, but I never learned or had the skill to do so. To be honest, the problem really wasn't bad; a lot of people don't know how to control themselves in dreams, apparently. It's just that I feel sometimes my dream character (or whatever you'd like to call him/her) always made the wrong decisions in dreams, which may lead me to a nightmare, or, just make the dream itself boring.

As I stated before, it really wasn't a big deal, but I really wanted to learn how to control myself. It seemed like it would be cool, controlling myself in a new world only I and the characters of my imagination can experience. It would sort of be like a movie, or a video game, that I was apart of. For that reason, I decided look up how do so on Google.

I go to my computer, open up Google Chrome, go to google.com (I trust Google search bar than Google Chrome's search bar, even though it's basically the same thing for some dumb reason) and look up how to control myself in dreams.

Within seconds, thousands upon thousands of suggestions popped up for my search, putting the most viewed options on the first page of Google for me to view. I clicked the first page listed, but It was long, and I'm pretty lazy, so I go back, to click on the second option, a Yahoo page.

Whenever I looked up problems, if there was a Yahoo page for it, I used it. I never really liked using anything else, because other pages are usually complex and long, while most Yahoo answers are short and to the point.

Anyways, after I press it I see the question pop up, asked from song guy without an icon. The title for the question was "How can I control myself in dreams?" The question was basically the question I wanted to know the answer to, so I read the exact question to make sure me and the other person were on the same foot.

The question asked:

'' I don't mean being able to recognize that I'm in a dream, I mean control yourself, period. I my dreams, I often feel like I'm more of a "camera", and that the dream is a predetermined story. I have no control over my actions or input whatsoever. I can't even think in dreams. I'm trying to learn how to lucid dream, and one of the methods of realizing you're in a dream is to look at a mirror/text/hands, or to try to push your finger through your palm. It's difficult to do when you're a puppet. I've spoken to a friend, says that she has enough control to make herself look at things (and she didn't even know what lucid dreaming is until a few days ago when I told her about it). So, is my situation normal? How do I snap out of it? Thank you in advance for helpful answers. :) ''

This seemed to be the question I wanted to know the answer to, so I looked for the top answer to the question. Obviously, it wasn't hard finding, since it was right under the question.

The answer stated:

''Simply realizing that I'm dreaming gives me control over myself in the dream. I think you just kind of have to expect to control yourself and just simply do it. I think that framing it like you have something preventing you from acting is wrong I think. I think that simply believing that is enough to prevent it, like a self fulfilling prophecy. ''

'' Just keep recognizing that you are dreaming and focus on that. Remember this conversation or the fact that realizing you're dreaming and that it means you can control yourself I think'll be enough. ''

My friends that can control themselves while dreaming have told me this same answer, but I really wanted to know how to do this, so I took the answer into consideration again I tried my hardest to follow the answer.

For the next four days, I tried to control myself in my dreams, but my efforts failed. The fifth day, however, seemed to be my lucky day, because somehow, I guess I learned how to do it through the struggle.

I could now control myself in my dreams. Controlling myself in dreams really as much fun as I thought it would be, to be honest. I mean, controlling myself just made me realize how fucked up the dream characters logic is, how weird the situations are, and that's it. Still, it was pretty nice to now being able to say I could finally control myself in my dreams.

About a month after I found out how I figured out how to control myself, the weirdest dream happened. When I fell asleep, I was in with a crowd of people, all huddled around outside. We were all standing watching this guy talk (about something I now forget) behind I podium, while people who watched seemed to be listening, and if I remember correctly, nodding in agreement.

I founded this pretty boring, and walked away from the crowd. As I walked on, the crowd and the person speaking kept on getting smaller and smaller, and it just seemed I was walking into nothingness. Why I kept walking into this nothingness, I dunno. I guess I just wanted to explore..well.. myself. I was more interested in what my brain would make up now. As I kept walking on, I felt a huge blast to back, and I fell over.

Yes, I know what you are thinking. This guy can feel pain in a dream? Well, it wasn't exactly pain. It was most likely my brain trying to trick me I was feeling pain. I really can't explain what I felt, because some of the things the mind can do is unexplainable.

Anyways, after I had gotten hit by the unknown force, I guess what seemed the be the "camera" of the dream shifted it's view to my back, where I was laying face foward on the ground, seeming to be unconcious. (sleeping in a dream where I'm sleeping; perfect, I know.)

I could see my back, and by the looks of it, there was no way this character was me. I could not see the face, but however, I could see by the back of the head that he had short, grey hair, probably with some small bald spots. I guess you could say he looked reasonablely old, but definately not older than 50, most likely.

The "camera" of my dream not teleported to the person who knocked me out, which seemed to be a man with a mask on and a long black cape covering his body. He seemed maybe my height, if not a bit taller, maybe around 6 feet, give or take an inch or two.

<p class="MsoNormal">He seem like he didn't have a weapon of any kind, so how he knocked me over on the ground with enough force to knock me out, I have no clue.

<p class="MsoNormal">The camera not teleported to what seemed to be a lab. The lab had tables with many different liquid mixtures, but the main part of the lab that I noticed was a big metal table in the middle, with a body tied down it. The camera of my dream was to far away to completely identify the body on the table, but it seemed completely obvious that whoever who was tied down, it was most likely me.

<p class="MsoNormal">Within seconds of being magically teleported to the lab, I started to hear footsteps, first at a small sound, then getting louder and louder as it went on. The sound can only be described like someone wearing boots walking on a wooden floor, which was weird, because of the look of the well-made lab, it would seem likely the the floor was made of a type of metal or had metal textiles of some sort.

<p class="MsoNormal">Finally, as the footsteps seemed to get as loud as it could, I could see the man who I assumed knocked me over, looking at my (probably staring, I couldn't tell since he still had the mask on) tied down, unconcious body. About 5 seconds into looking at my body, I guess my character had woken up, and it seemed I was in control of my body again.

<p class="MsoNormal">I tried to move and squirm, but whatever he had me tied down with, it tied me down strong. It seemed like a tight rope or something like that, but where he tied the rope to so I wouldn't be able to get up, I still don't know. I started to scream and cry after awhile, but he seemed to show no emotion through his mask as he stared down at my character's body.

<p class="MsoNormal">That's when the camera teleported to what seemed to be his hand, which was holding a small knife. It looked like it wasn't sharp, as if it was a kitchen knife. The camera shifted to my arm, with my hand in the middle of the screen, and you could see his hands coming into the screen, with the small, kitchen knife.

<p class="MsoNormal">That's when with one hand, he held down my already tied down hand, and with the other slowly cut off my pinkie. It took him awhile to cut it off completely with the weak knife, but I could tell that he wanted this to last. As he cut off my pinkie, you could hear my loud cries and shouts, but that didn't phaze him. He then mooved to my ring finger, which he seemed to cut off even slower, which I responded with with more screams and cries.

<p class="MsoNormal">He moved on to the next finger, which he seemed to cut off even slower, which then again, I replied with more screams and cries. He did this with all my fingers, and it seemed that the more I screamed and cried while he slower cut off my fingers, he tried to cut off the next one even slower.

<p class="MsoNormal">This was pure hell. I was hopeless. I was being tortured in this never-to-end dream that I was happening... and the worst part is, I felt that I could actually feel the pain.

<p class="MsoNormal">Eventually, he got through all my fingers, and that's when I thought he'd just end me and my tortured dream would be over. I was so wrong.

<p class="MsoNormal">He end up cutting my whole hand off, then my arms, and then moved on to my other side. I know for a fact that my cries were probably the loudest thing possible I could make, but in this lab shut off from the rest of this world, they meant nothing.

<p class="MsoNormal">After he finished cutting off both my arms off with the knife, he patched them up. I couldn't help thinking about how stupid that was in that moment, but then it came to me. He's trying to keep me from bleeding out. He's trying to make this pure hell.

<p class="MsoNormal">After he patched both my nubs for arms off, he moved on to my feet. He took off my shoes and socks with his hands, and needless to say, he started with my toes, then my feet, then my legs, and then ended that off with patching me up.

<p class="MsoNormal">This is the most painful experience I've ever had, and I'm dreaming. Why would this happen. What's the point of all of this?

<p class="MsoNormal">Then the man in the mask started to unzip my pants. "God, NO, PLEASE," I pleaded as new tears flowed down my eyes. "Please, just not there..".

<p class="MsoNormal">This is when the man finally made his first sound I've heard throughout the dream. His laughter. It was deep, and sounded somewhat sadistic. To be honest, it sounded like my laugh.

<p class="MsoNormal">As the man laughed, he pulled down my pants, then my boxers. He put his knife right next to my testicles. I screamed as loud as I could, but from all the previous screaming, my voice was close to dead and wasn't very audible. The closer he got his knife to my testicles, he harder, the deeper, the more saddistic his laugh became. As I could feel the cold, blood covered knife on me, he put his mask covered face next to mine.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Your welcome." he said.

<p class="MsoNormal">That's when I woke up. I jumped out of my bed onto the floor as soon as I woke up. And when I say jumped, I litterly mean jumped. By the jump I did from the bed to the ground, I at least covered what seemed to be 4-5 feet. As I realized I was awake, I put my hand over my heart, to see how fast my heart was beating. That thing was racing fast as bat flying out of hell.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Goddamn it," I said, "I have to take my pills again.".

<p class="MsoNormal">I went to my cabinet, grabbed my heart pills, and went downstairs for a glass of water. As I poured the water in the cup, I saw the family picture I put up next to the sink of my family. Well, me and my Dad. My mom passed away giving birth to me.

<p class="MsoNormal">I sighed. I hated my Dad. It wasn't the way he raised me.. it was the way he treated me after I graduated. He started calling me in the middle of college classes, calling me names like worthless, and putting me down. Why? I don't know. He gained the habbit of drinking after I graduated from High School, but why he would belitte me, I still do not know. This wasn't really the biggest problem, however. The biggest problem was with my fiancé. Just about 2 year before I also graduated from college and 3 months before me and her were going to get married, my Dad came to my apartment with my fiancé. We talked a bit and drank a bit, but when I asked him why he would send me such hateful calls, he just went ape shit. He started calling me every disgraceful name in the book. Asshole, bitch, son of a bitch, horse shit, an accident, etc.

<p class="MsoNormal">That's when I decided to stand up for myself, not only because I knew this was wrong, but also to show my fiancé I wasn't some weak kid. But as soon as I stood up, he grabbed the bottle of wine he was drinking and slapped me across the face with it, breaking the glass, causing shards of glass to slash through my cheek. It hurt like a bitch, but that wasn't the worst. Just as I was going to get up to kick the living hell out of him, I saw my fiancé, lying over, with 2 glass shards struck through her; one through her left eye and one through her skull. As I saw this sight, I cried, and I guess that's when my Dad thought it was smart to beat it, so he left. I called the police and the ambulance, but the police couldn't find where my Dad went and the ambulance couldn't bring back my soon-to-be wife.

<p class="MsoNormal">Now, two years from the incident, I have my own house, make a lot of money from the job I work at, but still do not have the love of my life with me. I stare deeply into my Dad's loving smile on the wall as tears roll down my face. What had changed with him?

<p class="MsoNormal">That's when I heard another soft cry.

<p class="MsoNormal">I wiped my eyes and looked around, I didn't see anyone, but the cry didn't sound that close. I kept quiet for a second and heard the cry get somewhat louder. It looked like it was coming down from the basement door.

<p class="MsoNormal">I opened the door and went down the stairs, to see my Dad tied down to a metal table I never purchased, by ropes tied to the legs of the table. I look over to see another table, to see a small, kitchen knife. I walk over to the tables, and I look at my Dad crying, pleading for me to help him, then at the knife, and then at my Dad again.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Thanks."

Created by The Real Critic