Lay awake for a while focusing my inner vision in the way that often generates a WILD.
I’m in a dark space, like adjoining bedrooms. I signal to a woman sitting on the bed—who seems to be waiting for me to do so—that she can begin. I take my place on the floor beside the bed, accompanied by another dark figure, as the woman strips off her clothes, and begins her performance. She mostly stands in place as she dances, with subtle, sensual movements of her arms and torso, which are white and smooth as embodied moonlight. She is slender, and I see the form of her breasts, but no actual nipples. I wonder why I told her to dance for me… She’s closer now, moving through me, and through the bed, at which point I notice she’s wearing a pointed “helmet” reminiscent of the headdresses worn by dancers in Thailand. As I watch her, it dawns on me that she’s my dream body, and that I can follow her out of my physical body, which I realize now is the figure I’ve been crouching beside all this time. My body is a featureless form clad in dark clothing, and I’m able to stand up, and move away from it, without any effort. But I lose the dream.
Still trying to WILD, I find myself in a similar dark room with a woman who distinctly resembles my maternal grandmother. We’re facing each other, almost embracing, but when I suddenly realize she merely represents my physical body, I begin pulling away from her, gently but firmly forcing her to crouch down on the floor against the wall as I separate myself from her, and fully enter the dream space. But no sooner have I done so than some repressive force presses up behind me, and slips heavy “arms” around my shoulders. I say, “My Lord, protect me!” and immediately understand that I’m in no danger – it’s just my physical body resisting the separation.
Still trying to WILD, I slip into a dream scene in which I’m running after a man, following him, as he busily moves from room to room of some industrial-like office building, urgently implementing some plan he has. For revenge? And suddenly I think—This is not my fight. Immediately becoming lucid, I leave him behind, and hurry out of the building through a gray metal door, relieved it was so easy to make it outside.
There is a subdued, somewhat overcast light, and I’m aware only of paths cutting through low hills immediately before me, and some people walking around purposefully. I declare, “My General!” addressing Jesus Christ. But then think I should add, to make myself clear, “My King, my Lord and my God, now and forever!”
I walk along a path, conscious of holding my purse, and of the action of walking, as I ask my Lord if he has any orders, any instructions for me. I focus on a passing woman who is tall, with very short hair, and who possesses an aura of authority, like a troop commander. But she doesn’t even glance at me so, as I continue walking, I ask, “Is there is anything I can do to help Sean move forward and progress in his relationship with you, Lord?” echoing one of the subjects foremost in my mind as I lay awake trying to WILD.
When I get no response of any kind as I keep walking beneath white trees (like the Dogwoods in bloom now on our property) I feel this lack of response is the response: “No, there’s nothing more you can do at the moment.” So I deliberately drop my purse, and begin rising slowly into the air, thinking—Alright, I’ll just relax and enjoy being here. There is a soft, muted golden light around and behind the trees, and I feel better and better, more and more wonderful, as I gradually ascend, turning gently in place, toward the open sky. I feel I want to go all the way up tonight, that I can simply leg go, completely surrender to and become one with this feeling of peace and well being expressed by my dream weightlessness, and I do…
Suddenly, still lucid, I find myself in the midst of an action packed scene taking place in a large, shadowy indoor space akin to a paranormal sports stadium. I’m surrounded by men belonging to two “soccer” teams getting ready to play each other, but I see only red uniforms around me. I’m talking to one man as I move about energetically. I tell him, “I’m tempted to stand behind the goal keeper, and keep out all the balls!” He responds by urging me to be careful, but I just laugh and say, “I’m in my dream body!” Meanwhile, I glimpse Sean standing somewhere to my left, and talking animatedly about Jesus. I can’t remember what he says, but it all seems to be good. He’s wearing red, like all the members of the team I’m supporting. The other team is invisible, for they don’t have physical bodies like we do.
Heading to one side of the space, I walk down a few steps, then stop to look back into the “inner field” where the match is taking place. I’m joyfully followed by a fully mature woman the size of a doll who leaps into my arms and cries, “You’re the best!” The best of something, but I don’t remember now what she said. I caress her sleek, soft black hair as I might a cat, while she talks to me. We are very dear to each other even though we haven’t been together in a long time.
My attention is drawn now to two women kneeling together, as though on a picnic blanket, waiting for the match to recommence. They are near the stairway I’m standing in, and cannot, for some reason, step out of. I’m helpless to do anything about it as I watch a man thrust a long knife beneath the right breast (cupped in a blue bra) of the woman kneeling on the right. A yellowish liquid mixed with blood pours from the wound. I somehow know – in that way of lucid dreams – that she is serving as the living tap for the “beer” everyone will be drinking. The man now smoothly slips his blade beneath the left breast of the other woman, and the same fount of fluid pours straight down from the wound. It is terrible to watch, but the women remain conscious, and look more uncomfortable than in pain.
I now understand this ritual strangely reflects the piercing of Christ’s side on the cross by the Roman soldier from which water and blood poured forth. The mysterious mystical cup of Redemption is the “beer” everyone will be drinking at the match. All of us, in one form or another, suffer with Christ in this life, even as He is the source of our Life, and the reason we, like these two women, will not die, but live forever. It is the presence of the opposing “team” that makes a cruelly sadistic and sexist mockery of that moment on the cross in the way I just observed, using helpless young women – easy victims in the dream space just as they are in waking reality.
I know who the opposing team is now, and they are invisible because they have no physical bodies as we humans do.
In lucid dreaming circles, people spend countless hours talking about whether an OBE (Out of Body Experience) is the same as a Lucid Dream, and if a WILD (Wake Induced Lucid Dream) is superior or inferior or more desirable than a DILD (Dream Induced Lucid Dream) since, supposedly, you have control over a WILD but not a DILD. And then there is the relationship between an OBE, and even a WILD, with the phenomena of Sleep Paralysis. On this particular night, I ran the full gauntlet of all of the above, which wove quite seamlessly into each other like stages, or steps, in the same mysterious process.
Personally, I believe there are degrees of separation, and that a DILD is simply not being conscious of the first stages of that separation.
The sensations of an OBE are akin to an old Apollo rocket, vibrations, loud noises, slow and dramatic.
A WILD is more like slipping into the seat of a spaceship cruising in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming – between the earth’s atmosphere and the starry universe – and timing it just right to land in one of the dream landscapes passing before us.
A DILD is my preferred method, and the most common in my dream practice. It’s like being a first class passenger suddenly landing in a dream vacation without any effort, as smoothly as being dropped off by a magical black limousine.
Regarding the two teams or sides pitted against each other – one of which was invisible – I really don’t need to explain it to Christians. Other religions also recognize that there are hostile non-physical entities/ forces/energies, etc. encountered by the dreaming soul. Even materialist/atheist lucid dreamers will agree that, in dreams, we can confront subconscious thoughts and impulses hindering us from being happier, more successful, etc. in waking life. The concept of the subconscious, bound to the physical body and brain, is essentially materialism trying to integrate the notion of spirituality.
As a Catholic because of my lucid dreams, I believe in spiritual warfare.