Note: I am now waiting up to 5 months before posting my lucid dreams. This means I am always approximately 25 lucid dreams behind.
November 1, 2013
I’m lying in bed, on my back, in the rec room. The wind outside is so strong, the sound of it blowing, and the little noises it causes, keeps me from drifting off to sleep. Then I notice the room is in disarray, and I see a project folder lying at the foot of the bed. As I sit up and reach for the folder, I realize it isn’t real… I am out of body. Suddenly, I lose all visuals, but that’s okay. Floating just above the floor, I lean back into the gently enfolding embrace of dream gravity, half sitting, half reclining as I feel myself gliding toward the Bay Windows. I know I’ll get visuals back eventually; I don’t stress over it or try to force them to return. Outside, I continue floating along, and soon the formless grayness is replaced by a stunning view of jagged snow-covered mountain peaks outlined against a bright blue sky. I am high in the sky moving right-to-left at a good clip and yet also peacefully; I don’t feel the need to do anything except coast along and enjoy the stunning view.
As my effortless progress slows somewhat, I very deliberately gaze down at my dream body. It looks just like my waking reality body. I’m convinced I’m wearing exactly the same thing I wore to bed because the lighting is clear and I distinctly see myself in realistic detail. In reality I went to bed in a black camisole but in the dream it is a totally lovely deep blue color, and hanging open around it is a short blue-and-white speckled wrap. It is a very nice combination such as I might actually wear.
Smoothly and gently, I come to a natural stop as I land on a white road just a short distance from where it gently forks—it extends straight ahead for as far as I can see, but not far from me it also branches off at a slight right angle, detouring beneath a black stone archway long enough to be considered a tunnel. Beyond this archway-tunnel, in the near distance, I spot the silhouette of a tall figure clad in a black hooded robe or a voluminous black coat. A man is approaching the tunnel. I wonder who it is and, hesitating only an instant, begin walking toward him. But even as the figure draws nearer it seamlessly transforms into two small children, a little boy and a little girl. When they see me, they run eagerly toward me. The little boy passes beneath the archway first and pauses on a low step as I quickly kneel down to embrace him fondly, delighted by the feel of his little body in my arms, a sensation I have not experienced very often in waking reality because I have no children. He smiles happily up at me. He has a sweet face with pale yet healthy looking skin. He says earnestly, “I just wanted to tell you what a beautiful Mansion you have!”
I am surprised and pleased as I receive a flashing visual of a large white Mansion somewhere beyond the black tunnel. It occupies a prominent place along this white road and I recognize that it is indeed my Mansion which belongs exclusively to me. I feel very happy and flattered, because a Mansion in the dream space symbolizes the soul, which means the little boy is is telling me that I am a very beautiful soul. I say, “Well, you know it’s yours too.” He shakes his head, and looks very serious as he insists, “No, no, that’s not true, it’s yours!” I smile and reply, “Well, you know you’re welcome in it any time.”
False awakening: My sister Lourdes and I are in the rec room when I see a car pulling up the driveway with a cage on it and a woman in the cage. I say, “Oh my God, go make sure the Sun Room door is locked!” as I quickly run to secure the rec room door. But the people break in anyway, a whole group of them, and two women grab my arms, intending to put me in bondage, and I know they mean to inflict real pain. Somehow I manage to grab hold of my phone and dial 911. A police officer answers and I tell him what’s going on, giving him my address and directions on how to get here. I speak as clearly and lucidly as in waking reality. He says it is a bit far out and asks me to tell him again where I am. I repeat my brief but detailed directions. Then I raise my voice in desperation, “They broke into my home! They don’t understand that I’m not into this! That I don’t want them here!” Suddenly, the people around me look abashed and begin getting their stuff together to leave. I inform the officer of this development as it occurs to me that perhaps I should have simply told the intruders this when they first arrived; that I should have been more assertive. The officer asks me if I’m going to be all right and I say, “I think so, thank you” as I hang up.
Because it was the early morning hours of November 1, I was hoping to lucid dream with people I love who have passed away. I forgot that here in in the U.S. All Saints Day has been perverted into Halloween, a night where adults (many of whom don’t even believe in their eternal souls) go to costume parties and get drunk and “let it all out”. In many respects it is a morbid holiday populated with witches, ghosts and skeletons. Perhaps when I told the little boy in my lucid dream that my Mansion was also his and that he was always welcome in it, other souls overheard my invitation and felt free to let themselves in! This would not be the first time the mysterious “light of lucidity” has attracted crowds of dream characters like moths to a flame, and these people often have a dark, sinister, threatening feel to them. I was open to receiving visits from deceased loved ones, but perhaps it is wise to realize that when loudly broadcasting an intent, other souls besides those you are thinking about might overhear and be unable to resist crashing your dream space! Maybe the little boy knew this and that is why he insisted, almost anxiously, that my Mansion belonged to me and no one else. Since I believe the Mansion symbolizes my Soul, and that the dream space is it’s living expression, I was, in essence (as a dreamer friend suggested) declaring some kind of open house on my dream space!