“We Are Who You Are”

July 28, 2013

I’m an actor in a musical film when I find myself on a blue metal balcony of sorts overlooking a dark city. I’m playing, or standing in for, the woman the hero loves. Gripping the edges of the empty chair where she had just been sitting, my back to the streets and buildings, I realize abruptly that I’m dreaming. I continue singing the song I’m in the middle of, and even consider whether or not to go on. Of course not, I’m lucid now. I turn to the railing and fly off into the dusky blue sky. Far below me are the shining angled rooftops of a vibrantly colorful city, the hues orange, red and yellow predominating. The vast city is as magical looking as a Disney cartoon only it is real and more detailed. There are birds in the sky, quite a few of them, including a strange big “furry” black-and-white bird that flies off a bare tree branch heading in the same direction I am. Remembering the hawks James saw yesterday, and his intention to fly high up into the sky to try and find me, I hopefully search the sky for hawks as I cry—James! I’m coming to find you, James! I intend to rise higher and higher, but, in fact, I’m gradually losing altitude. I can feel that struggling to reverse the pull of gravity won’t get me anywhere so I let myself slowly land on the tree covered ground.

Merging with a group of people dressed in dark winter coats and white scarves, I realize where they’re all heading as I glimpse a frozen shore, and a cold dark-blue expanse of water beyond a rock of a similar size and shape to James’ rock, only it is solid ice. I think—Okay, this is interesting. I’m always attracted to water in a lucid dream. I wonder why I seem to recognize my location as Austria, perhaps because it relates to the musical I was just performing in. ShipFollowing the crowd, I call again for James a few times. I realize the people are lining up to board a small ship or large boat. I think of the Mansion where James and I have tried to meet, and how instead I find myself becoming lucid in these different locations, where finding him seems as complicated as traveling long distances on earth without a map. I decide it might be interesting to board the ship and see where it leads me, but I lose the dream.

I find myself standing outside in a bright sunny day on a large expanse of green outside the car-vehicle that transported me there. I’m facing a man I seem to remember as Abuelo, behind which a woman appears I somehow know is someone’s Great Aunt, and then perhaps another dead relation joins the group. Abuelo, or whoever he is, is choreographing some kind of reunion, and though I think Stinger was there briefly, everything comes into better focus when Mami appears and I inform her about our visiting deceased relatives. Then she and I turn toward a large house and I call out to my dog Arthur, who races happily toward me across the bright green. We enter a residence, and as we start up a broad, relatively short flight of off-white steps in a lovely spacious foyer, well lit by the tall windows on the first landing filled with blue sky, I declare—Este es el sueño! (This is the dream!) I get it now! Mami, walking slightly ahead of me, glances back at me as she reaches the landing, a curious little smile on her face that seems pleased yet also slightly wistful, as though she knows perfectly well this is a dream but that she won’t remember being here with me when she wakes in the morning. The stairs make a sharp right turn, and as we ascend to the second and main floor, I look out the windows in growing appreciation of the view. We are definitely in a dream neighborhood because all the residences—close together yet somehow possessed of their own space—are the perfect blend of a church and a house, and I seem to remember they are all framed in black. Pausing to gaze out and down at them, I realize they’re a synthesis of everything, church, house, boat, a primitive sort of “hut” still visible in its structure, etc. These beautiful structures are everything that can possibly contain life.

Now we’re on the main floor of the residence, which is very expansive and pleasingly, eclectically furnished and decorated. I’m aware of several people, mostly men, standing in the living room facing me as I arrive. phoneLooking around me, I declare—I’m going to call James! Is there a phone in this place? I turn left and proceed into a more intimate adjoining space searching for a phone. Everything is very real and detailed and, sure, enough, I spot a cordless phone similar to the kind I use in waking reality. I hurry over to it and pick it up. I don’t remember his phone number but I decide to simply dial J-A-M-E-S with the oddly foggy plastic rectangles on which I can just make out orange letters. As I wait for an answer, conscious of needing to keep my attention moving to avoid waking, I look in a full-length mirror partially obscured by some furniture in front of it. I see myself, I am me but younger and idealized, my features and figure sharpened to absolute perfection so that I almost resemble Nicole Kidman. Pleased, I sway my body and hips, dancing in place. An automated message informs me—This call cannot be completed as dialed, or something to that effect. I hang up and try again, focusing intently on pressing just the right number-letters, and this time, James answers the phone! His voice and identity are, without a doubt, James. I cry—James, this is Maria! I’m calling you from the dream space! This is a dream. We’re dreaming. He replies—Oh God, I’m smoking, and I demand, a little shocked—You’re not smoking pot before work, are you? He begins talking, quietly and quickly, and although I can barely hear him, I get the gist of what he’s saying. He’s apologizing to me for something, then expressing a growing concern about a health issue, and finally explaining how stressful work has been lately. I interrupt—Look, James, if you think you’re awake, then you won’t remember this.

Hanging up eventually, I walk out of the room, pleased I did something new, or relatively new, by using a phone in a lucid dream to try and hook up with James. Moving a little deeper into the house, I follow two of my tall blonde “brother’s” into a long, ideally lit, spacious room with a really high wall on the right and equally tall windows on the left. I say to them—I look like Nicole Kidman! as I lay on my back on the floor luxuriating in my dream body for a moment. Standing again, I declare—Man, I wish I could stay in this dream! The youths are followed into the bedroom by several young women, and the whole lot is climbing into what I can only describe as bunk beds placed against the Cathedral-high wall. Watching these attractive, vibrant Dream Characters, my lucid curiosity sharpens into a question—Who are you? I’m about to add “all” (Who are you all?) but before I can do so, they all turn to face me and reply in a powerful, almost challenging chorus—We are who you are! Their response hits me like a revelation, as a blast of joyful recognition that goes right through me because it comes as no surprise. Oh, yes! It makes perfect sense! My elation is expressed by a large yellow bean-bag-like chair-ball that bounces toward me, and as I toss it playfully away, I announce, quoting what a little girl Dream Character said to me in another dream—And this is the year that God made! I understand that, like time itself, we are all of us God’s creations, which explains why everyone here feels like my brothers and sisters. Their response strikes me as simply, wonderfully, amazing, and as I walk further into the beautiful luminous residence, with its cathedral-like dimensions, I repeat—We are who you are. We are who you are! wondering if I should wake up so I can record this.

I decide, instead, to proceed toward the back of the house, heading into a long, less well lit corridor and a door at the end. I “hear” a presence inquire if I plan to go witness my brother’s drills, and I grasp that weapons, perhaps swords, are involved in what’s going on outside those doors. I think—That could be cool. As I walk out the door, I can feel that I’m in my stocking feet and think—This won’t do, I need some nice black shiny boots so I can join in the sword play. Looking down, I try to materialize black boots around my feet, but I can’t, not even when I make an effort to imagine the solid feel of them around my ankles and against the soles of my feet. It’s really making me angry. Why can’t I conjure some boots?! Why is it still so difficult to create things in a lucid dream; it seems a skill I should have mastered by now. As I’m literally stomping my foot in frustration, I wake.

UPDATE added October 11, 2013

I tried to find a picture of a ship that looked like the one from my dream and the image posted above (from fotolia.com) was the closest I came, but in fact, the ship in my dream was the color of the ship which belongs to Christoph, who lives in Switzerland. I believe I know now where the ship I felt myself drawn to in the dream was leading me, toward this new dream centered friendship. We met virtually at the 2013 IASD (International Association for the Study of Dreams) Psiber Conference. When I shared this dream with him, Christoph sent me a picture of his ship and commented, “Switzerland and Austria look quite similar. In the mountains we have much snow and ice; the winter is long. My ship can be used as an ice breaker, its body is formed for that. It is a traditional Dutch ship type, a so called “Vlet”. It is a working ship, which can be used all year. But it is a sweet water ship, designed for rivers, canals and lakes, not for the sea. There it might swing, pitch and roll too much.”

Christoph's Ship-sm


Comments and Questions Welcome