Res Ipsa Loquitur (phrase)- Latin, Legalese: "The Thing Speaks For Itself." . . . DREAM JOURNAL

This past weekend (Friday/Saturday), I was conscious of my dreams the entire night. It was odd, and off course it felt like the dream sequences were going on for hours upon hours upon hours....

The string of dreams began in New York, inside tunnels with indoor stores. I remember seeing a Russian store and doing some exploring.

There were more sequences that have faded, then the night launched into something roughly based off Harry Potter. I was at a wizardry school, but it looked very modern, like an office building with lots of bluish glass and multiple levels. I realized that I was a wizard, so I did not have to worry about walking up stairs. I levetated myself to the top floor, enjoying my wizardly power. Fun stuff.

Then things got weird(er).

Another sequence started, something with me and everyone around me all being different people from the nineteenth century. I just remember passing over a river on a stone bridge,  and  that a girl was trying to hang off the back of a carriage, but the carriage got hit and --I think-- killed her.

The dream switched over to this ancient-feeling sequence set in a town, still in the nineteenth century of so (it felt vaguely Victorian). I was someone else, and I was in stone houses that were nicely decorated. There was a whole bit about an author that I cannot remember, and I was going through his or her rooms, which were on the top floor of an old-style townhouse. There was spring foliage outside, and birds singing over the cobblestone streets.

Then the scene changed again, and I (more or less, at least) was observing the inside of a beautiful stone church, still in Victorian times. I remember gold light and that it was Christmas. I ended up sitting at a table in a large stone hall next to a young girl. We had some sort of non-parental relationship, and she really liked me and I really liked her. Her family was there, dressed in Victorian clothing. We were watching some sort of show involving literature or music, and it was very beautiful. At some point, my father showed up and stood to one side, watching. He looked happier than I had ever seen him look in the waking world. The whole thing had a mystical and spiritual feel to it.

Later, I was exploring a city --still in something resembling the nineteenth century! I just remember houses that reminded me of England, and walking along a long promenade with stone walls, overlooking a river or some other body of water (it was still, and fairly wide, but you could see the other shore).

Unfortunately, a lot of the details faded fast. But the dream sequences were really interesting when they were happening. They felt like literally being in other worlds.