August 11, 2013
I’m outside on the grass adjoining a very large and tall structure that feels complete even though it might appear unfinished. Black beams support white walls, creating different size windows and square openings framing various expansive sections of green grass and blue sky. I don’t recall how I became lucid, I simply already am, and I deliberately prepare to fly south instead of north, conscious I’m making this decision on the recommendation of a video game character who told my avatar this was a better way to go when I was playing yesterday afternoon in waking reality. Why not? I seem to recall that I always tend to prefer flying north; no reason not to try a different direction. I fly up and through a series of openings in the structure and soon make it out, and away.
I’m flying at a nice pace high above the ground, with nature all around. It’s just wonderful to be flying, but I also want to get somewhere, so I reach into my right pants pocket intending to pull out a cell phone on which I can call James. I don’t materialize anything, yet it doesn’t matter. I put my crooked right hand to my right ear as though there actually is a phone there and say—James, I’m calling you in a dream! I then decide to make it more “realistic” by shaping the letters of his name with my right index finger against my left palm—J A M E S as though dialing the corresponding numbers. I put the invisible phone back to my right ear, and am astonished when I clearly hear James pick up with the words—Hold on just a minute. I say—Oh my God, James, you’re there! He says quickly— I can’t really talk now, I’m in the bathroom. He explains further and I conclude—Which means you couldn’t LD tonight. He agrees that is the case and I say—Well, it will be interesting to see how this conversation stands up in the morning.
As we speak, I “enter” another enclosed space that is circular, or egg-shaped, and vast, it’s curved walls lined with level upon level—beginning so far below me I can’t see the first ones and extending just a little farther above me—of white balcony-like “perches”. I briefly land on one as James tells me he believed I wasn’t intending to LD either because I didn’t do something I normally do (maybe email him before bed?) I don’t really know what he’s talking about.
As the call phases out, I’m drifting close to the balcony-lined wall on my left, but I want to get out of there so I fly swiftly up toward the flat white ceiling, my arms raised straight up over my head. I intend to pass through it without effort because barriers in a lucid dream are not real, and after only a slight frisson of resistance from the “material” I succeed. I am rewarded with the vision of multitudes of faint white stars crowding an infinitely soft black universe. I have ended up in void space—just stars and darkness and me. Without thinking about it, I begin twirling as though in a ballet, not spinning with the intention of being transported somewhere but dancing, my hair flowing around my face almost as if under water as an intangible “cosmic wind” “choreographs” my Dervish-like spin, which is neither too slow or too swift. Flying-dancing, I have absolutely no desire to leave void space. I seem to be in a horizontal position even though there is no way to distinguish up from down. My dark “clothing” is somehow “fashioned” of void space, the misty tiny stars akin to stitches. I fly-dance for what I sense is quite a long time, and as I do so, I understand this dance is a form of communication, an integral essence of the lucid dream, or of being lucid in a dream. I grasp that this impromptu choreography, rising spontaneously from within me, is a kind of mysterious educational script. Being lucid and dancing in void space expresses/reveals something that is its own end. It’s extremely difficult to find the words to describe what I knew and felt.
Eventually, I find myself somewhere between void space and a manifest location. I sit down on a “bench” supported by darkness which curves gently (imagine the crescent moon serving as a bench in space) and look down at my body. I’m aware of a male presence to my left silently observing me, not there and yet there; I know It won’t interfere. I’m wearing my colorful evening clothes, their vertical lines of colors beautifully bright and yet also absolutely real-looking in the dream darkness. I lift my thin light shirt and cupping my breasts in my hands make the decision to give my physical body sexual pleasure through my dream body. I push my pants down and begin caressing myself with my right hand. I close my eyes as the pleasure intensifies knowing that I will most likely wake up, but it’s okay. My body looks just as it does in waking reality, a little rounder, a little more plump, but still my lovely, beloved, wonderfully cooperative and healthy body. I send it love and approval, much as a person would lovingly caress its horse after a long enjoyable ride. I deliberately “stable” the lucid dream here to give my body an approving and necessary “rub down” because, for three years now, I’ve been wrestling with self-image issues as a result of all the abrupt chemical changes brought about in my physical body by menopause. I know it’s important I align my dream body with my physical body, and there is no better way to do this than to share intense sexual pleasure, creating a bridge between the dream and waking reality along which a revitalizing, healing energy can travel from spirit to flesh/ energy to matter in the form of a climax, waking me in the most delicious way.
Dream Notes: As it turns out, my dream partner James, though he was intending to lucid dream, ended up not doing so. The day before he had spent several hours in the bathroom installing a new sink. The job had proved more difficult than expected, which made him angry and emotional, and also tired him out, impacting his ability to lucid dream that night. So it seems that when I phoned him in the dream, I connected with a piece of his consciousness.
During my experiences in Void Space while lucid, I feel it as though it is the “bridge” between infinite potential and specific manifestations. I see Void Space as Consciousness, the Tao, God, ancient Egypt’s Atum, and so forth. In my lucid dreams, Void Space usually looks and feels like a cosmic womb, dark, formless, featureless, and yet shimmering with the faint lights of what appear to be stars that are not and yet can be. In ancient Egypt, stars were seen as the eyes of Atum, in essence as God’s eyes. I’ve read much about transcending our individual sense of “I” as we merge with the Clear Light, with “pure” Consciousness that transcends finite perspectives. I understand this, and it seems to me that is the meaning of “rest in peace”. And yet I feel that Consciousness is inseparable from infinite perspectives, much as a parent is independent of its children/creations but they are part of Him/Her. And as, ideally, children are conceived out of love and desire, so too I believe the desire to experience Love/Life/Being is the “driving Force”, the eternally beating heart, behind every conceivable universe and its myriads of manifest perspectives. This all-encompassing heart beats creation and destruction endlessly. I see Void Space as that silent space between each beat of God’s heart.
In this dream, I simply wanted to immerse myself in creative sensual potential; I just wanted to bask in the sense of endless possibilities without actually confining myself to any specific one.