December 17, 2011
I’m in a small auditorium/classroom of sorts giving a performance or demonstration. It involves, as best I can remember, standing up to a man who wants to control me, and all other women. I think I do a wildly defiant ritual dance while standing in place. I sit back down, occupying a central seat on an elevated platform directly across from the “stage.” While I’m sitting there, a man coming from my right, or the east, steps up to me and looking straight at me says, rather sternly, “A word, please.” He looks a lot like Bono during his Achtung Baby phase, wearing black sunglasses and black leather jacket. He wants me to follow him for a private conference. I glance at the people around me, smiling a bit self-consciously, wondering what I’ve done wrong. However, it’s not such a bad thing to be singled out by such a handsome and seemingly important man.
I follow the man into an adjoining room. He’s seated on a couch set on a pedestal waiting for me. I crawl toward him on my hands and knees, deliberately approaching him from the left around some obstacle akin to a black and gilded pole. He seems amused and asks me if I’m some particular creature (don’t remember the name) which I think is silly because obviously, and I tell him so, I’m being a cat. I say, “All women are cats” meaning when they transform into an animal. I seat myself on the couch beside him. He still looks like Bono, whom I had a major crush on at the time, still disguised by his glasses and jacket. I believe I wait for him to tell me what he has to say, but if he says anything of significance, I don’t recall it. I perceive him as one of my Guardian Lords and am very happy he came to me in a dream as I had requested before falling asleep.
Next thing I know, I’m standing in a doorway looking out at a hallway that opens up from this room. The atmosphere is reddish and yet it has the clarity of lucidity. This may be when I become fully lucid, because I experience that deep pleasure/presence. I walk back toward the pedestal where my supposed Guardian Lord is still sitting, looking slightly down at me from his seat. I say, “It’s so wonderful to be here with you like this.” He’s smiling as though pleased, but I notice now that his face isn’t quite so handsome anymore (the black sunglasses are gone) and that his body, dressed now in white clothing with black trim, is rather thin, almost scrawny, too small for his head.
I remember my intent, to ask him about healing my tendinitis, and I’m about to do so when he begins talking, telling me about others like him that are dying. I’m shocked and appalled. “But I thought you were a Guardian Lord,” I exclaim. “How can you die?” He ignores my question and says something about the eyes go blind and then a disintegration occurs behind them, a dissolution of force, of being, so that they don’t die in a mortal sense but are somehow rendered lifeless/impotent. It almost sounds plausible, but it feels completely wrong and not possible. I move closer to him, still intending to ask him about healing in a dream, but suddenly he vanishes; one second he’s there, the next he’s gone. I say, a bit angrily, “You weren’t really a Guardian Lord!” because I get the feeling he ran away from me and my indignant questions.
I feel myself losing lucidity and hold onto it, determined to stay in the dream. I find myself walking back into the auditorium/classroom I was in earlier but there’s no one there anymore; everyone left while I was in another room with that man, but it’s okay because I’m still in the dream. In the center of the space, or thereabouts, I raise my hands before me and ask to go deeper and higher, where I can attempt to heal myself again, but instead I feel myself waking up, or slipping away, and this time I can’t hold on to my lucidity.