Note: My thoughts and feelings have evolved, in some cases quite dramatically, since I began lucid dreaming nearly five years ago. For example, in the Dream Notes that follow many of my earlier lucid dreams, you will find me considering possible past lives as an explanation for some of my experiences. I no longer believe in reincarnation, and this change came about as a result of some of my most powerful dreams. I am now waiting a year, or longer, before I post my lucid dreams, one at time, in chronological order. This means I now have a backlog of approximately sixty lucid dreams.
Dream of August 24, 2014
I’m in the Sun Room, sitting to the left of my deceased friend, Sara, both of us facing the open door. Visible out in the driveway, leaning against my black car, is a very tall, thin woman wearing a short, spaghetti strap dress of turquoise blue. She is lovely, in the idealized way of supermodels, but scarcely seems conscious—she almost looks propped weakly up against the car, where she perpetually awaits a man who appears at regular intervals, his strong body hiding her from view as he does whatever he pleases with her her. A passionate drama is repeating between them in a seemingly endless loop.
Sara and I are sitting very close to each other, and now I look directly into her vivid, sentient eyes which, in the dream, are a deep, glimmering blue. I speak slowly, very much wanting her to understand, “We’re here for a reason, in this pocket outside space and time.” I feel something very special happening; I feel we have been brought here, and that I am somehow more than dreaming. My beloved friend was always brilliant, and I sense she understands what I’m telling her.
But, not surprisingly, she appears distracted by the drama that keeps repeating between the man and the woman. She asks me quietly, “Aren’t you excited by what’s going on out there?”
I shake my head. I am not excited by it—to me the scene is a visual metaphor expressing a cry of unending despair. It looks to me like a visual synthesis of Sara’s various disastrous love affairs, in which she gave all of herself, only to be used and abused by men not even remotely worthy of her great intellect and heart. No man every truly appreciated her beautiful, shining spirit, perhaps because she so often picked the wrong men.
We wander outside onto my brick courtyard, where the couple has been replaced by a slightly larger group of people playing and/or performing in some way. All I recall is an improvised “set” of “boxes” with colorful sides, and a short dark-haired couple. There is an understated festive feel to the gathering. Where in waking reality the glass outdoor dinner table sits next to the firewood grill, I turn to face Sara, and grasp both her arms. I refrain from bluntly telling her that she’s dead, and instead say, “Look, Sara, I’m still in physical matter reality, but you’re not in physical matter reality anymore.” Above her small smile, I glimpse skepticism in her intelligent eyes, but before she can say what she’s thinking, I urge her to, “Feel the space between your atoms.”
As she seems to think about this, we walk arm and arm toward the group of people. Smiling at us, the dark-haired woman says, “Your friend…”
Sara immediately pulls me more tightly against her as she replies, “My best friend.”
Her declaration makes me very happy, because I feel the same way about her, and as we begin turning away from the gathering, I tell the woman who spoke, “You have a reason for being here… There is a reason for this bubble in space time…” I pause, then add, “You may not having anything to do, but it’s important.”
Sara and I stroll closer to the glass doors of the Den, at which point I say, “Let’s fly. You know we can fly.” I demonstrate by moving over to one wall of the house, and rising leisurely up to the level of the roof. Then I turn, and becoming aware of my golden high-heeled shoes, I execute tap dance like steps in midair, moving in a straight line from left to right as Sara watches me. “See,” I smile down at her, “of course this a dream. And isn’t it great what you can do with all that space between your atoms?”
Descending, I ask her to come flying with me, and she readily rises above the ground, all the time smiling at me in that special, considering way she had. Encouraged, I turn toward the open sky above the workshop, and fly into it, gradually picking up speed. A small flock of white geese is visible in the distance above the tree tops. I feel Sara grab me from behind, as if to steady herself, and I say, “That’s right, just hold onto me” as we head in the direction the geese were flying. I phase out of the dream.
What fascinates me, among everything else about dreaming reality, is what I find myself spontaneously saying and doing. I never would have imagined saying to Sara in a dream, if I met up with her: “Feel the space between your atoms.” We are that space, otherwise how could we feel it? Emptiness is really Pure Being, and our atoms “emerge” from It, are mysteriously created, given specific forms and experiences with which we identify, so we forget we are not so much these atom as the Space of infinite potential “between” them. And this mysteriously creative “emptiness,” this void space, is the Heart of everything—God. But this is just my waking brain trying to explain what I expressed much more elegantly and succinctly in the dream.
When I emailed this dream to one of my dream partners, Sean, he wrote back:
“I always enjoy reading about people’s encounters with the deceased. Most of my encounters involved the person not really understanding that they were dead (as with your encounter with your friend here.) Why is this, do you think? Do you feel we are more likely to be in the same boat when we pass, or do you think, because of our successes with lucidity throughout our lives, that we may have a better chance of “knowing” where we are when we pass? I’m also guessing that, because of the nature of time within the dreaming, that when we talk to the dead, we may be talking to them at any point in time, so possibly right after their death, or maybe even when they were still alive!
When I woke up, I immediately wondered about the continuity of the dreams I have had with Sara since she passed. In the first dream, she seemed to have transformed into her ideal self, who kissed me confidently on the mouth (a mysterious way of transmitting information in dreams.) Then she sat up straight and, raking her right hand across her chest in a diagonal downward motion, told me firmly, “Sara is dead.” I got the distinct impression this was not a reason to be sad, but rather a long awaited relief for her soul. When she passed away, I had only just begun my lucid dreaming practice, and the first long lucid dreams I had (I realized after the fact) were obvious premonitions of her death. This latest dream is the most wonderful one I have had with her. I feel we truly connected, and how willing she was to follow the geese, flying eastward, fills me with peace.