Walking down a dark city sidewalk with Mami, arm in arm, happily returning from dinner out together. No one around: no cars, just the silhouette of buildings to our left and darkness all around as we approach the corner to turn left toward home. Even as we do so, it hits me that we really didn’t go out together by ourselves, that this is not a likely scenario and so I must be dreaming. I smile and face Mami and say, “Look, we can fly” and rising up into the sky prove to myself this is, indeed, a dream. Mami looks surprised and worried, although not too much, and I say, “Come on up with me, Mami” and I’m pleased she actually does so. She’s wearing a blue floral dress, and in a spirit of play I take her hands and make as though to ballroom dance with her through the sky, but she tries to pull away, frightened by what she calls a “dance macabre” and I understand she fears that dancing in a dream like this is a portent of death. I know it’s a silly superstition but respect her feelings and say, “Okay, just head back down, slowly” and she does so, a bit awkwardly, her legs rising up as she falls back like someone pushed into a pool. I remain airborne, rising higher into the sky as I call “X!” intending to go try and find him again only suddenly the dark sky solidifies into a ceiling, arched and smooth as though made of thick strong porcelain, a grayish-blue-white color blocking my progress. It feels too dense to try and will myself through and I’m pondering the annoying obstacle when on the ground to my right I see a person or persons walking through an open door out of the structure. Right! I remember my intent to look for more traditional ways out in a LD and quickly follow them.
I abruptly find myself in a small, indoor space through which a gale force wind is blowing. I can’t feel the wind only how it makes moving forward a total struggle. Through a window I can see out onto a porch and a table and I know I’m in X’s childhood home when I spot the patio’s brick floor. Through the window I see someone sitting at the table with his back to me. X?! I fight the wind, pulling myself forward by holding on to the rim or frame of the window, determined to remain lucid and make it out onto the porch. I pause to bang on the glass, yelling, “X! X, I’m here, it’s Maria!” but the sound of my fist scarcely registers and I’m not sure if he can hear me. “X!” I yell, struggling toward the door, and he turns his head and looks right at me. I experience a surge of triumph. It looks like X, and we’re looking straight at each other, and I’m thrilled because we seem to have succeeded, we are both lucid and aware of each other in the dream. But he turns away again and I finally make it out the door to him. I kneel in front of him and grasp his hands where they rest on his lap, and they are ice cold, thin and leathery. It’s a creepy feeling, as though I’m interacting with a corpse, but I persist, slapping his face and shaking him. I don’t remember what I say, his name, mine, we’re dreaming, not sure now, I’m just trying to wake him up. I stand him up only now his face just collapses and there’s no doubt he’s not there anymore, if he ever was. The living man I first saw who looked right at me turned into a mummy; I was trying to wake a mummy!