August 19, 2013
I’m walking inside a sprawling compound of sorts, self-sustaining (like a human base might be on another planet) one of many relaxed people. I’m curious and excited to have the opportunity to explore some of the shops here when I notice a current of dark-clad bodies heading in another direction and I fall in with them. I’m delighted to glimpse doors at the end of the broad corridor, because through their glass panels I see snow falling. I can go walk outside in the snow! I exit the building into a spacious courtyard and look up, thinking—I can go flying through the snow! Immediately I realize I’m dreaming. I rise up into the sky, above trees with golden leaves, so happy to be lucid—Thank you! Thank you! I’m conscious of being a little too elated and raise my hands before me and dampen my excitement a little so as not to destabilize the dream.
I fly/glide through the flurry of snow, just a little above the trees, heading left, where I sense some sort of pending “structure” to the dream itself. I know James isn’t planning to lucid dream tonight, but I really enjoy calling him, so I reach into a pocket for my invisible cell phone. I then do what I did before, shape the letters of his name on my left palm. The action roots me very enjoyably in the dream space and I understand that intents are a stabilizing force, especially when exercised again and again. I put the non-existent phone to my right ear, and after a heartbeat hear it ring somewhere. I’m impressed by how crisp and clear the sound is, and make a note to remember how completely real it sounds, as real as in waking reality, and yet also mysteriously more real because I’m out of body. I’m taken completely by surprise when a woman’s voice answers in Spanish—Este es un mensaje del sistema… (This is a message of the system…) Then she switches to English and says—Progress is currently diminished rather than enhanced for three reasons. She begins to describe each reason and even as I listen attentively, grasping all her words, I know I’m not going to be able to remember anything she says when I wake; she’s going into too much detail, and reason number two is too complex for me to understand even in the dream. I know, of course, that she is referring to James and our dream work together and why we have reached an impasse. When she finishes I say politely, feeling a bit overwhelmed but grateful—Thank you, and she replies—Welcome.
Well, that’s that. I put my hands together and Superman it deeper into the dream, thinking there’s no reason I can’t speed up my progress/flight, and I do, zooming like a missile for a moment! It’s no longer snowing and looming before me is massive building/structure made of stone/concrete riddled with pitch-black openings of different geometrical shapes and sizes. This structure looks and feels ponderously dense despite the dark openings I could technically go through. It’s too tall to even see the top, I can’t fly over it, so I back up a little, turn around again and fly as fast as I can Superman style straight toward one of the black openings, intending to go right through it, but at the last instant I lose my nerve and veer to the left. There’s no way out that way, just a crumbled mountain-like ledge of white stony blocks with black edges or mortar, so I turn right. I’m surprised and relieved when I see a path out. I fly along it and turn left around the structure. For some reason, the phone I was pretending to hold has transformed into a full deck of cards. Wondering what to do with them, I fling them playfully before me into the darkness intending them to transform into fireflies glimmering all around me. It doesn’t work, not this time anyway.
It’s completely dark, I’ve lost all visuals, but that’s okay, I keep going, and remembering how James’ solves this issue by reaching out for tactile sensations, that’s what I do, thinking—I should be able to grab hold of a street lamp, or something. I find one and the instant I grab hold of it I can see it, along with a few other lamps. I reach out for another one as I fly, but this one is a small table lamp. I switch it on, and suddenly I’m inside what, after only a moment, I’m pleased to recognize is a restaurant. I look around me and note the square tables surrounded by four comfortable brown half-moon shaped chairs, two on each side. It’s not an upper class establishment or a cheap diner either, just unpretentiously pleasant. I walk away from the table I switched the light bulb on, beside which a man is sitting by himself, through an opening in a waist-high partition into the center of the space. I think about going back and switching off the naked light bulb, which might disturb the man seated so close to it, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Looking around me with avid curiosity, I think—This is a great place to experiment with my sense of taste in a lucid dream. Many of the tables are occupied by quietly dining patrons. Spotting a smaller table in a very tight private little alcove in the far wall, I decide that looks like a nice place to sit undisturbed. The single male waiter, dressed in dark clothes, with perhaps a large white napkin draped over on of his arms, has spotted me, so I know he’ll come by to offer me a menu. But then I notice couches and tables arranged in a slightly elevated area before a long window, from which the clear light is coming, and decide it would be even more nice to sit there. Approaching this area, I see a man sitting by himself on a couch near the left wall. For some reason, he looks familiar to me. I step around another waist-high partition of sorts, walking eagerly into the small living room area straight toward him. I ask him, excited—Do I know you? Standing, he smiles pleasantly but replies—I don’t think so. He’s Caucasian and middle-aged, not handsome, yet there is an appealing distinctness to his features. He’s wearing brown, nondescript clothing. I’m more surprised than disappointed as I say—Really? I thought you might be related to me through… I list a couple of distant relations I don’t remember now. He shakes his head, still smiling as he assures me he’s not related to anyone I mention. Meanwhile, the waiter comes up behind me on my left holding a small vial, and before I know it, he has raised the dropper and squeezed a drop of liquid into my mouth. Intensely curious, I savor it like a sip of fine wine. The flavor is so subtle as to almost be innocuous, and yet I sense it has the potential to become all flavors. I swish it around on my tongue experimentally but all I get is a slight pleasing flavor of orange essence. Then the stranger I believed I recognized hands me my own personal vial, the small, dark kind expensive perfumes or medicinal tinctures are sold in. It seems all food served in this restaurant is condensed into this liquid. It’s a little disappointing, but it occurs to me that I can’t make it “work” because I still have a physical body, I’m not living on the Other Side yet, at which point I begin phasing out of the dream.
I’m an avid cook but not remotely a chef. A chef can put foods together because he/she knows their individual scents and flavors and how they combine and how they respond to different preparation methods well enough to creatively merge them, something I can do only to a very limited extent. But I don’t think the lesson is literally only about cooking. I think I’m being encouraged to become even more discerning overall, to deepen my sensitivities and senses, both physical and intuitive. Think about it… if on the Other Side we literally create our environment, we need to hone our perceptions as much as possible in WR, because the more we learn in the school of Physical Matter Reality, the richer our potential experiences in Non Physical Matter Reality will be. My earlier non lucid dream involved kissing a woman and really tasting and experiencing her lips and tongue. That wasn’t about food.
I feel my exploratory savoring of that drop of liquid the waiter put in my mouth is about taking even more time to appreciate everything with pleasurable curiosity, getting the most out of every experience by discerning its complexity, and how it’s interwoven with my thoughts, feelings, perceptions and expectations. Living lucidly is the opposite of rushing through things, of “gulping” moments and events as though I have something better to do, as though every instant isn’t worth savoring, thereby making it even more enjoyable and mysteriously nourishing to my soul. Just walking through a room and turning on a light is a near miraculous act when I remain aware of the complex infrastructure that enables me to do so, with all its ramifications to the environment and humanity reminding me of how far we’ve come as a species, and how much growing we still have to do.
Savor every moment as lucidly as possible. That’s my take home message from this dream. The more lucid we are in waking reality the more lucid we are in our dreams, because they both affect and help shape each other.
UPDATE: Added October 15, 2013:
I did not care to admit it to myself at the time, but I pretty much knew the woman on the phone was telling me things I already knew about why James and I were at an impasse in our dream work. Though our differences initially worked for us, they had begun to get in the way. This is the dream that ends the book we co-authored which covers the first year of our experiences, documenting our strategies and the dynamic approach we used to better negotiate the dream space individually and together. The results of our work are shared in detail and conclusions provided.: