Lucid Dream... Shot, Herbs and Haunted Lyndale

I was supposed to do a massage for one of my clients.  He asked me to come to his house.  He lived on 51rst and bryant the first house on the south east corner of the intersection.  As he was unlocking his door I started to feel suspicious of him.  We went into his house, walked upstairs.  It was still dark I heard the clinking of alchohol bottles.  I turned on the light.  He was over by the stereo.  He turned around, pointed his gun at me and shot.  The bullet hit me in the rib cage.  I slumped over an easy chair pretending to be dead.  He approached my body, talking, about something.  As he came into reach I grabbed him and wrestled.  Next thing I knew I was running down  the street away. Then George was there.  I'd forgotten that I was shot, and was telling George about how I have been having lucid dreams.    In fact, this is one I told him.  I looked around.  It was a not quite complete dream world.  It was real enough though, and we ran up the alley.  I was filled with a sense of awe, not at the dream scape, but at a deep underlaying knowledge that I was dreaming... Of coarse I was.

Earlier I had been living in a big house.... Ascentia had come over and I was supposed to give some kind of herbs, I guess pot.   I had no interest in the stuff, but my herbs cupboard was filled with it.  It my bedroom from 4th grade.  There had been something about driving across the city in an old run down car.  There was something happening in Powderhorn... older families with kids.  I went to their house, and sat on the couch.  It was a sense of being at the house of someone I really looked up to.  His kids played really well... their friends came over and there was no crying or fighting.  I was impressed.  I sat the whole time, laying back on a couch tired, wanting to go to sleep.

At one point there was some festival.  There were lots of hippy, type stoner kids there.  I sat down in a posittion of status next to Zach C. who was free styling... and I gave him a bud... Somehow he worked it into his rhyme that he asked me what it was called and I said "Oz" which rhymed.

At one point I was in haunted Lyndale, a place I have often been... It is Lyndale church from when I was growing up, but a little bit bigger, darker and weirder.  Really has a presence in it, a little bit alive.

Funny, when I woke up I didn't remember any of my dreams.