First attempt to share a lucid dream with X.
Between 2:30 & 3:00:
I’m sitting up in bed in my dark bedroom, absolutely certain I’m awake and typing one of my more memorable lucid dreams onto my laptop. I clearly see the words forming in a luminous light-blue font across the screen and wonder why I’m bothering to type the dream out when I could just cut and paste it, but this way I immerse myself in it more completely. I pause and turn to look at the digital clock sitting on the opposite nightstand. There are no red numbers visible, instead I see a man’s white hand facing me, relaxed, fingers together, as though he’s sleeping. “X!” I say and extend my hand toward his but I know I can’t actually reach it because it’s somewhere else despite the fact that I can see it.
I turn back to my laptop, the power goes out. I look from the black screen to the black clock and think, “Oh no! Now I won’t know what time it is” conscious of what I was thinking about in WR, that soon it will be time for X to get up and enter a dream and I need to know the time so I can go back to sleep and meet him. I see my husband’s silhouette walking into the room. I want to ask him if the power went out but decide not to speak as he gets in bed. Even as I sit there, I feel the power returning slowly, and I see it returning. To my right there are two arches, a scant few feet apart and just slightly taller than I am sitting on the bed, akin to the supporting frames or buttresses of a cathedral. I see the power returning in the form of a glowing light purple color rising gradually from the base of each arch so they will soon be fully “illuminated.” There is also a presence behind my right shoulder, someone I know and want there, to whom I remark, as a mist forms and swirls just behind me as well, “Don’t you love how I’m surrounded by mist without it obscuring me?” I can now keep typing out my dreams.
I suffer a false awakening in which I begin writing down this strange little OBE with a pen on a white notepad, until just when I’m satisfied I have it down, I wake up for real. I get up to write it down and regret doing so now because just that short WBTB coupled with my excitement kept me awake almost the whole rest of the night.
Between 6:15 and 6:40 after being awake for more than 3 hours and 2.5 grams of Melatonin at 4:30 (I found out later that X had also not been able to sleep):
I find myself inside a cramped space consisting of narrow corridors looking across at another such space at a group of men, all of them shirtless, with fit, strong upper bodies and wearing jeans. I’m watching one with rather handsome, slightly hawkish features, focusing on his distinctive face, when it suddenly occurs to me that I can use him to enter a lucid dream. I quickly cross the short hall and walk into the tightly milling group of men, determined to get to him even though he is now half concealed by another man. I weave myself between their bodies and plant myself in front of my target, grasping his upper arms. “I need you,” I tell him, placing my hands on his chest and completely rooting myself in the dream with the feel of him. I seem to push him back into a less crowded adjoining space (the backstage of a theater comes to mind but it also has the look of a business associated with mechanical work). He’s smiling at me and I ask him, “Is it you, X?” He seems to agree he is, but he doesn’t look like X. I ask, “Then why aren’t you doing what we agreed on?” even as I grasp both his hands, holding them between us. He doesn’t have an answer for me, he just keeps grinning, obviously pleased by the attention I’m giving him, but I’ve concluded he’s not X and move away from him out into another corridor which I sense leads outside. I take a moment to pat my bare breasts, looking down at them and distinctly seeing my nipples, making an effort to root myself more deeply in the dream because it feels tenuous, like I don’t have much time. I turn and head out.
The minute I step outside, I begin rising up into the sky and notice what appears to be a very large truck but instead of a solid body it’s enclosed by a shining red cloth with dark-blue highlights or stripes; a circus-like canvas. It’s night time and yet also mysteriously bright; I have no problem seeing the expansive, pleasant, residential neighborhood. And north-east of the truck, low in the sky, I make out what looks like bright white smoke rising from the horizon or a white tornado. My attention is either diverted from it or it moves closer and I suddenly realize it’s actually a white horizontal Ferris wheel-like ride filled with people that’s gliding south to north close to the ground and rising slightly as it moves away from me. That makes sense, what X and I are trying to do is fun.
Of course, the first thing I did when I got outside was cry, “X?!” and as I move swiftly in the opposite direction as the amusement park ride, I continue to cry out, “X! X?!” hoping he might still be in a dream and hear me, although I don’t have much hope it will work. The clean, wide streets are lined with similar looking white two to three story houses and my eyes drawn toward one in particular I think—that’s it, meaning X’s childhood home, and if I can find his bedroom, I can at least try and describe it to him in WR even if he’s no longer there. I see a little boy sitting down at a round outdoor table on its porch to enjoy a sandwich or snack and as I soar over him I cry, “X?!” He doesn’t look up or respond so I figure he’s not X as a little boy, and the house is occupied by another family now; I can see his parents as well. I’m moving fast and up and am not surprised when the dream phases away.