October 14, 2013
I’m aware of lying in bed and traveling high above the green world, which I see through a series of “cloud portals” akin to irregular windows as I “fly” swiftly from left to right. I feel Stinger move in the bed beside me but I don’t let it disturb me as I continue riding the hypnagogic flow… Suddenly I’m standing in an amorphous but evenly lit space, no colors but definitely the sense of an immense room with different open levels. I become aware of being there and of my dream body at the same instant that I see a man standing directly before me. He’s looking directly at me as he asks, “Are you Suarez?” or some other similar sounding name. His soft and somewhat thick upper body is exposed but his lower body is wrapped in a white towel, as though he just stepped out of a sauna. He looks about sixty, with thinning hair. To his question I reply, “No, I’m not” but he says, with an insistence that makes me uncomfortable, “How do you know you’re not?” I seem to understand he means that I might be this “Suarez” in another incarnation. I’m wondering if he might be a certain person I recently met in waking reality and so I study his face as intently as he is looking at mine. I don’t really like the look of him, and he’s behaving in too familiar a fashion, trying to get closer to me in an intimate way I want nothing to do with. The instant I decide this there is suddenly more space between us. I have, without any overt aggression, repelled him from me and “flown” backward onto a balcony-ledge that runs the length of the great room. The ledge is slightly above the platform the man is standing on, separated from it by a narrow but seemingly bottomless dark-golden space.
I turn to face the tall glass window-wall that runs the full length of the immeasurable room behind me which is divided by a series of amorphous platform-like beds. Outside I see only a soft moonlit sky as though I’m on the top floor of a very tall building. Conscious of my naked upper body, I deliberately press my nipples against the glass, on which shine a few scattered rain drops. I think—I’m not me, but I’m lucid. I feel that my lucidity is who I really am. Feeling relaxed and perfectly rooted in the dream, I walk along this narrow balcony-ledge from right to left as I gaze out at the night. The glass feels very real and I’m not inclined to try and overcome its barrier. Then I turn to face the room, the perimeters of which I cannot see but I sense it is a defined space. The atmosphere is darker now as I look down at countless “beds” on which rest naked bodies. I focus on the upper torso of a colossal woman close to me, on her soft, silky looking and faintly rosy flesh. The mysteriously dormant bodies are all different in size, appearance and age. I sense this fact but all I can really see is the color white, no more substantial than a dense mist, from which “bloom” prone “hibernating” human figures.
I turn back to face the glass window-wall and am surprised and pleased that the “building” has split in two with a narrow but generous space between its towering dimensions through which I can fly, and I promptly do so. This part of the dream is a bit confused, but I somehow end up floating just outside the window-wall. It feels as though I’m high above the ground with my back to a skyscraper, and yet the atmosphere is that luminous gray-white darkness of Void Space. I remember one of my intents and raising both index fingers I open my mouth and intend a healing energy into my gums. I glance down at my fingertips to catch a glimpse of the subtle glimmering violet glow which will tell me it’s working, but at the same time I don’t feel the need for any evidence. I then ask the dream space if Arthur will be all right. There isn’t much urgency in my question because the issue is minor and seems to be healing. Through a sudden break in the clouds I suddenly see the moon’s brightly glowing concentration of white light. Then I discern its shape in an almost two-dimensional way. It’s not full, it’s more like a broad waxing crescent, but it’s definitely there and I reach for it with both hands, drawing it into me. It’s hard to describe, there’s no sense of it being a solid object, or of space being crossed as I intend the moon to fill me with its life-enhancing power. There is no solid substance to it, I simply will this moon image-energy into my mouth, and from there through my entire body.
Now I’m moving swiftly upward, the building directly behind me. Traveling up and up, I think—Like an elevator. I see no reason to fight this rocketing acceleration upward, which goes on for some time, but at one point, when I seem to come to the end of the building, I grip the edges of the concrete roof to stop my ascent and sit down it. When I turn around, I realize that I’m at the entrance to what looks like an embassy lobby of sorts, well lit, with an official looking window in the center, around which walk a handful of men in black suits who all clearly work there. At once it occurs to me that perhaps here I can request to speak to one of my Guides. I enter the luminous space, heading for the official window which, as best I can remember, is a square with black horizontal lines. It appears closed and yet it is resoundingly and without a doubt a gateway of some kind. As I approach it, I raise my hands before me thinking—My hands, my hands! because they are faint silhouettes, but the technique works and the space remains bright and hyper real around me. Approaching one of the men in black I say politely, “I’m wondering if I could see one of my Guides.” A young and slightly heavy set black woman appears before me, laughing loudly and heartily at my request. I laugh right along with her and then say, “Well, whichever one of my many Guides might happen to be available here” acknowledging that I know of several, and that I may have even more Guides than I realize. With the air of a very busy but very efficient administrative assistant, and smiling all the while, she begins rifling through some colorful “files” as I study her hair, which looks more like a carving made of some material I can’t quite identify. It is an equally amorphous color, gold-beige-white with squared off sections topped by a curved deep red color. I can only compare it to the crest of an ancient Greek warrior’s helmet, or perhaps the helmet worn by the goddess Athena. She remarks with patient good cheer, “Well, you never know which one (of your Guides) might be stationed here.” There is a young man in black standing close beside her, and I get the impression he might be her assistant, perhaps still in training. She says something about me to him, calling me by what I know is a nickname for me there (I seem to recall the words “speedy” and “cricket”). She then further identifies me as, “You know, the one who seemed so young.” I also get the impression she’s telling him that you never know when certain lucid dreamers might stumble upon this place and make such a request. I’m intrigued by this, but my attention is on the column-pillar she’s accessing information on. It’s a few feet in diameter and entirely black with metal or silver sections or controls. My brain describes her as having pulled files out to search through but they were really just bright geometrical colors. As I study this intriguing “information column”, the top of which I can’t see or sense, I phase out of the lucid dream.