The first two novel in this ongoing series have launched on Amazon everywhere.
I think I’ve gone out at night, where I sit inside a small, dimly lit room listening and observing. I become semi-lucid when I see a man sitting on the other side of the empty space, smiling slightly as he observes me. I shift in my chair, conscious of a wooden beam separating me from him. To my right, a woman is talking, telling some kind of story, but I don’t plan on being next in line, as I sense the man expects me to be, so after a moment, I get up to go. As I walk to the door behind me, I realize I’m not carrying my purse. No problem… I slip a hand into my right pocket, intending to find my car keys in them, and I do so even as I recognize my ability to do this more and more easily. I step outside into a dark and completely empty little parking lot. What? My car was stolen? I don’t have a phone, and I don’t want to call for help. Turning slowly in place, I look around me and think—No, I’m not stranded because I’m dreaming.
Holding my arms slightly up and out (like a statue of the Virgin, although I don’t consciously think of her) I begin rising gently off the ground as I gaze up at the night sky. Directly above me, there is something like a golden haze of starlight, with some brilliant golden stars shining through it in some sort of geometric shape. Brimming with peace and praise, I say, “My Lord and my God!” without raising my voice, for I know, I feel, I am heard. And then, “My Angel!”
As I float facing upward toward the partially overcast night sky, I now perceive—forming within clouds illuminated from within by a hazy golden light—what appears to be the figure of an angel. And as I watch, it grows larger and larger, and more and more distinct, until there is no longer any doubt it’s my Angel responding to my call! And as his golden form slowly becomes visible to me, I realize that he’s huge, really big, colossal! I never imagined him as so immense! Then I see he is extending one of his hands down toward me. I fly up to meet it, and even though just one of his fingers is almost as big around and as long as I am, I don’t hesitate to touch it. He holds it there for me as I caress it, full of awe at how real it feels, just like living skin. He is still emerging from the heavens as with infinite patience and tenderness he cradles me in his open palm, which I kiss in grateful awe, small as a baby bird in his hand.
Cradling me in his hand, my Angel reaches the ground and seamlessly takes the form of a man flying on my left. We’re still connected, his right shoulder and my left shoulder seem to merge as I cling to him, but not because I’m afraid I’ll lose my grip, for we’re completely together. And, at last, I see his face, in profile above the top of his bare, strong arm, which is all I can see of him because we’re so close. He’s a handsome, fair-skinned man wearing a white garment that leaves the upper part of his chest bare, and something like a fine silver chain hangs from around his neck that ends in a sharp point. I glimpse something else near his neck over his shoulder—a golden cross about the size of my hand, the edges studded as if with precious gems of some kind, but it’s not exactly shaped like a crucifix. And although I don’t see it, the position of his left arm on the other side of his body indicates he’s holding something slightly extended before him. A sword?
As we soar straight ahead just above the ground, I gaze in wonder at his face. His hair is short and a dark-blonde, and his profile—fine-featured yet strong—doesn’t look exactly as I expected it to. But it does resemble the face he showed me in another other lucid dream, only sharper, purer. Maybe because in this lucid dream the lighting is bright and clear, not dim and full of shadows. To my right, I glimpse a flash of dark-blue water, like an ocean running parallel to this place were flying through at high speed which is something like a narrow covered walkway. My surroundings are mainly a white blur because I have eyes only for my Angel, whose smile tells me he’s just as happy as I am, that he’s been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as I have. It’s so, so wonderful being with him like this at last!
And as we fly, my Angel speaks to me. I hear his words, but I don’t understand him with my mind—what he says flows straight into me, into my heart and soul, and eloquently deepens the joy of being with him. Then I become aware that he’s speaking a foreign language as I begin to see more of our surroundings—something akin to open booths beneath a pavilion selling beautiful and colorful things—and I say to him, “Wait! You’re talking in Italian, but I need English.” Looking amused, he communicates to me that’s not really true as he says something about Spanish, which I’m becoming more fluent in. I know I’ll be able to remember all this clearly when I wake up.
But just thinking about waking up begins ending the dream as my Angel slows down and, turning to the left, we finally come to a stop at something akin to a white counter in an alcove which, in waking life, is akin to a small seaside bar. I hear my Angel say “German” and I see a flash of a silver plaque on a bottle. The “bartender” refers to my companion as a man or a boy, and feeling the dream slipping away, I protest, “But wait, I thought you were an Angel” as I wake up.
I was hoping you would email today!
Oh wow, that must have been pretty awesome to experience Maria!
Another thing to add, my own lucid last night which, when combined with your dream, gives it another dimension:
I became lucid, my mind is groggy and I know I need to look for you, I know your name starts with an ‘M’. I am waiting, in a room, in line to be served for something. I am patiently listening to this old guy talk, about nothing in particular, my lucidity slips and I realise he is pulling me back into my dream. So I step out of this building into a sunny town. I think I am in a French town, in the south of France, or perhaps Italy. I also feel I am not too far from the coast.
I recall what I need to do, and realise I need to find you. I forget to head for a church, or use a prayer, and I just scream your name, but this time I try something new – I suck inwards and scream – using my (super sonic) voice like a giant vacuum “MARIAAAAAA” sucking it in, everything, and I feel you getting pulled toward me. Then I spot you up above, flying overhead, you are wearing yellow, and you look like yourself for a change, and I am over joyed about this! Once you touch down beside me we give each other a big hug and hold hands and are just so happy. And you – you are just positively beaming – the smile you have on your face just remains there. I have a feeling it is not just me you are happy to see, but something else, like you are here with me, but also somewhere else, experiencing both at the same time.
We are walking, and when I turn to talk to you, I cannot see you. It’s like you are, and yet are not here, like I was able, before, to focus into the dimension (for want of a better word) you are in, but can’t do so now; I just cannot focus my eyes to see you. You were here just briefly, and I try to imagine you, to get your form back, but it’s no good, it would only be your shell. But the feeling still remains with me, it was a pretty incredible meeting 🙂
Yes, it was incredible! Because what I did not mention in my dream report, even though I kept thinking it, is that the Angel’s face looked a little like yours! His hair color too. In another lucid where I saw my Angel’s face, it was similar but slightly different from last night, as I did point out.
I have no doubt we were together:
- Your locations—first the room with a man and someone talking and the feeling we were next in line
- You felt you were in a place near the coast as I did, and both of us thought of Italy
- The golden color
- My beaming smile and radiant joy
- How I descended from the sky to you, just as my angel came down to me
- Your feeling I was with you and also experiencing something else
- How I hugged my Angel’s finger (approximately the size of a person) and clung to him, just as we hugged and held hands
- How happy I felt because were finally together like this
- Sean added: Even to the end, when you were surprised that bartender refers to the angel as a man or a boy, and you knew you were with your angel – so how could he be both?*
It all fits seamlessly! Your dream enriches mine, and mine yours, in a way that confirms we were both blessed last night by this experience – an Angel’s touch, God’s gift to us, to show us we are on the right path!
My happiness in the dream has flowed over into the waking world because of your dream, for I am absolutely certain now that this was a real experience because your soul shared in it with mine.
I have a thought about the foreign language he was speaking, and also about the silver German plaque on the bottle I am going to investigate now….
Ah! I did suspect, actually, while I was reading it – that you were also experiencing two different dreams. *Even to the end, when you were surprised that bartender refers to the angel as a man or a boy, and you knew you were with your angel – so how could he be both?
I think this may be our first confirmed ‘spiritual experience’ dream, which I have been hoping for a long time now! Obviously it is just the tip of the iceberg, but plenty enough to get excited about!
Looking forward to hearing what comes from your investigation in regards to the German Plaque.
I believe Aramaic is the language I heard my Angel speaking. As in this audio clip, it sounded like Italian at first, but it’s not! My Angel’s response when I told him he was speaking Italian and I needed English was that it wasn’t true, because he wasn’t speaking Italian!
Oh, in case you don’t know, Aramaic is the language spoken by Jesus Christ; by everyone in that area in His day, except the Romans, of course, who spoke Latin, which is where Italian and Spanish come from.
Oh wow! That is just incredible.
I prayed for this last night lying in bed looking at this big tapestry on the wall beside me that shows a path leading through a colorful garden. I prayed I would become lucid, step onto the path, and meet you on the other side of the garden somewhere, somehow.
The German plaque:
Saint Eustace is currently best known for his cross-and-stag symbol being featured on bottles of Jägermeister. This is related to his status as patron of hunters; jägermeisters were senior foresters and gamekeepers in the German civil service at the time of the drink’s introduction in 1935.
According to legend, prior to his conversion to Christianity Eustace was a Roman general named Placidus, who served the emperor Trajan. While hunting a stag in Tivoli near Rome, Placidus saw a vision of a crucifix lodged between the stag’s antlers. He was immediately converted, had himself and his family baptized, and changed his name to Eustace. In the Christian imagination, the deer is a symbol of piety, devotion and of God taking care of his children: men.
Wow that IS interesting. I was going to ask why you were being shown this, then I saw which parts you put in bold 🙂
Lay awake for a while focusing my inner vision in the way that often generates a WILD.
I’m in a dark space, like adjoining bedrooms. I signal to a woman sitting on the bed—who seems to be waiting for me to do so—that she can begin. I take my place on the floor beside the bed, accompanied by another dark figure, as the woman strips off her clothes, and begins her performance. She mostly stands in place as she dances, with subtle, sensual movements of her arms and torso, which are white and smooth as embodied moonlight. She is slender, and I see the form of her breasts, but no actual nipples. I wonder why I told her to dance for me… She’s closer now, moving through me, and through the bed, at which point I notice she’s wearing a pointed “helmet” reminiscent of the headdresses worn by dancers in Thailand. As I watch her, it dawns on me that she’s my dream body, and that I can follow her out of my physical body, which I realize now is the figure I’ve been crouching beside all this time. My body is a featureless form clad in dark clothing, and I’m able to stand up, and move away from it, without any effort. But I lose the dream.
Still trying to WILD, I find myself in a similar dark room with a woman who distinctly resembles my maternal grandmother. We’re facing each other, almost embracing, but when I suddenly realize she merely represents my physical body, I begin pulling away from her, gently but firmly forcing her to crouch down on the floor against the wall as I separate myself from her, and fully enter the dream space. But no sooner have I done so than some repressive force presses up behind me, and slips heavy “arms” around my shoulders. I say, “My Lord, protect me!” and immediately understand that I’m in no danger – it’s just my physical body resisting the separation.
Still trying to WILD, I slip into a dream scene in which I’m running after a man, following him, as he busily moves from room to room of some industrial-like office building, urgently implementing some plan he has. For revenge? And suddenly I think—This is not my fight. Immediately becoming lucid, I leave him behind, and hurry out of the building through a gray metal door, relieved it was so easy to make it outside.
There is a subdued, somewhat overcast light, and I’m aware only of paths cutting through low hills immediately before me, and some people walking around purposefully. I declare, “My General!” addressing Jesus Christ. But then think I should add, to make myself clear, “My King, my Lord and my God, now and forever!”
I walk along a path, conscious of holding my purse, and of the action of walking, as I ask my Lord if he has any orders, any instructions for me. I focus on a passing woman who is tall, with very short hair, and who possesses an aura of authority, like a troop commander. But she doesn’t even glance at me so, as I continue walking, I ask, “Is there is anything I can do to help Sean move forward and progress in his relationship with you, Lord?” echoing one of the subjects foremost in my mind as I lay awake trying to WILD.
When I get no response of any kind as I keep walking beneath white trees (like the Dogwoods in bloom now on our property) I feel this lack of response is the response: “No, there’s nothing more you can do at the moment.” So I deliberately drop my purse, and begin rising slowly into the air, thinking—Alright, I’ll just relax and enjoy being here. There is a soft, muted golden light around and behind the trees, and I feel better and better, more and more wonderful, as I gradually ascend, turning gently in place, toward the open sky. I feel I want to go all the way up tonight, that I can simply leg go, completely surrender to and become one with this feeling of peace and well being expressed by my dream weightlessness, and I do…
Suddenly, still lucid, I find myself in the midst of an action packed scene taking place in a large, shadowy indoor space akin to a paranormal sports stadium. I’m surrounded by men belonging to two “soccer” teams getting ready to play each other, but I see only red uniforms around me. I’m talking to one man as I move about energetically. I tell him, “I’m tempted to stand behind the goal keeper, and keep out all the balls!” He responds by urging me to be careful, but I just laugh and say, “I’m in my dream body!” Meanwhile, I glimpse Sean standing somewhere to my left, and talking animatedly about Jesus. I can’t remember what he says, but it all seems to be good. He’s wearing red, like all the members of the team I’m supporting. The other team is invisible, for they don’t have physical bodies like we do.
Heading to one side of the space, I walk down a few steps, then stop to look back into the “inner field” where the match is taking place. I’m joyfully followed by a fully mature woman the size of a doll who leaps into my arms and cries, “You’re the best!” The best of something, but I don’t remember now what she said. I caress her sleek, soft black hair as I might a cat, while she talks to me. We are very dear to each other even though we haven’t been together in a long time.
My attention is drawn now to two women kneeling together, as though on a picnic blanket, waiting for the match to recommence. They are near the stairway I’m standing in, and cannot, for some reason, step out of. I’m helpless to do anything about it as I watch a man thrust a long knife beneath the right breast (cupped in a blue bra) of the woman kneeling on the right. A yellowish liquid mixed with blood pours from the wound. I somehow know – in that way of lucid dreams – that she is serving as the living tap for the “beer” everyone will be drinking. The man now smoothly slips his blade beneath the left breast of the other woman, and the same fount of fluid pours straight down from the wound. It is terrible to watch, but the women remain conscious, and look more uncomfortable than in pain.
I now understand this ritual strangely reflects the piercing of Christ’s side on the cross by the Roman soldier from which water and blood poured forth. The mysterious mystical cup of Redemption is the “beer” everyone will be drinking at the match. All of us, in one form or another, suffer with Christ in this life, even as He is the source of our Life, and the reason we, like these two women, will not die, but live forever. It is the presence of the opposing “team” that makes a cruelly sadistic and sexist mockery of that moment on the cross in the way I just observed, using helpless young women – easy victims in the dream space just as they are in waking reality.
I know who the opposing team is now, and they are invisible because they have no physical bodies as we humans do.
In lucid dreaming circles, people spend countless hours talking about whether an OBE (Out of Body Experience) is the same as a Lucid Dream, and if a WILD (Wake Induced Lucid Dream) is superior or inferior or more desirable than a DILD (Dream Induced Lucid Dream) since, supposedly, you have control over a WILD but not a DILD. And then there is the relationship between an OBE, and even a WILD, with the phenomena of Sleep Paralysis. On this particular night, I ran the full gauntlet of all of the above, which wove quite seamlessly into each other like stages, or steps, in the same mysterious process.
Personally, I believe there are degrees of separation, and that a DILD is simply not being conscious of the first stages of that separation.
The sensations of an OBE are akin to an old Apollo rocket, vibrations, loud noises, slow and dramatic.
A WILD is more like slipping into the seat of a spaceship cruising in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming – between the earth’s atmosphere and the starry universe – and timing it just right to land in one of the dream landscapes passing before us.
A DILD is my preferred method, and the most common in my dream practice. It’s like being a first class passenger suddenly landing in a dream vacation without any effort, as smoothly as being dropped off by a magical black limousine.
Regarding the two teams or sides pitted against each other – one of which was invisible – I really don’t need to explain it to Christians. Other religions also recognize that there are hostile non-physical entities/ forces/energies, etc. encountered by the dreaming soul. Even materialist/atheist lucid dreamers will agree that, in dreams, we can confront subconscious thoughts and impulses hindering us from being happier, more successful, etc. in waking life. The concept of the subconscious, bound to the physical body and brain, is essentially materialism trying to integrate the notion of spirituality.
As a Catholic because of my lucid dreams, I believe in spiritual warfare.
After being awake for a while, I am instructed on how to leave my body by two people, men I think. Lying there listening to their instructions, I “let go” of my legs first as a roaring sound gets louder and louder—it’s like taking off an a B52 bomber plane! I feel that I know how to do this now, after the instruction I received. I’m aware of lying on my stomach, my arms around my pillow, as I begin “taking off.”
Very soon, I know I can raise myself up slightly on my elbows, and what I see is amazing. It’s as though I’m lying on the wing, or the flat nose, of this heavy, incredibly loud plane flying high above the earth. It’s rather dark, but there is an ambient light of sorts, because far below me I discern three narrow long black rectangles. When I raise myself up and look around, I’m surprised I didn’t feel there was any danger of actually trying to sit up with my physical body; I simply knew I wouldn’t wake up. The transition is such an incredibly powerful experience, that sense of take off, and the sound, like that of a massively powerful engine.
I raise my left hand, and for a moment one or two of my fingers look a little twisted, vine-like, but they quickly settle into normal focus. I feel very solidly in my dream body as I sit up, and look through the window into the cockpit. The interior looks more like the inside of a large car, with a front and back seat occupied by a handful of women. The young woman in the driver’s seat is the one most visible to me, and she just gazes at me. I consider entering the plane to find out who they are, but decide to remain outside. Eventually, I relish the sensation of falling back into midair at high speed.
The next thing I know, I’m walking through what feels like the old heart of a large city, like downtown Boston, a pedestrian dominated area lined with brightly lit store fronts. It’s night, but there are lots of lights, and people enjoying themselves. I abruptly become aware of the fact that I’m naked as a nice looking dark-haired man steps out of some establishment and sees me. I do not want to be naked in the dream space, because this will just invite all sorts of trouble with guys like him. He’s approaching me with obvious interest, but I turn around, and opening the trunk of a black vehicle, pull out what I want to wear – a white, sleeveless, ankle length tunic. The man is calling after me as I walk away with the dress, and slip it on. (In the dream I’m not surprised by how easily I produced exactly the dress I wanted, but this is something I have never done before in a lucid dream.) There’s something weird about the neckline, it feels like a really broad but constraining collar, so I look in a mirror a few yards away, and notice that the dress reflected is not white, and I’m not even sure that’s me in the mirror. The garment is red, gold and black. Oh well.
I’m walking through this same city, very aware of being out of body, but feeling rather aimless. I haven’t heard from Sean, so there was no plan, but then – when I see a tall brick facade across the street that has the promising look of the side of a great church – I decide, what the heck, I’m going to call out for him, and Illeana, and everyone else. I yell, “Sean! Illeana! James!” And I know I call out to more people, so I must have also yelled, “Olivia!” while crossing the street, and entering some other area. I notice a low fence in front of me as I spot a group of people walking alongside it toward the opening, and I feel they are responding to my call, coming to meet me. I’m amazed. Wow, did that really work? But when they walk right up to me, I’m disappointed, because I don’t seem to recognize any of them. At least I don’t think I do.
False awakening: I’ve moved a little ways from this group of people who seemed to respond to my call. Two men are talking to me, and one of them explains that instead of just yelling out names I should have “tuned into “gone into” my spirit; that I should have taken a more spiritual approach. I agree, and not wanting them to think I’m entirely clueless on this point, I tell him, “Look, just because you saw this lucid dream of mine doesn’t mean they’re all like that. There are more than one-hundred dreams on my Lucid Living Lucid Dreaming sight.” To which the same man replies, “I believe there’s more than three-hundred.” Wow, really?
Later in the night, I become aware of deliberately walking through the door of a building like a university, where there are classes in progress, but there are also people, mainly young men, sitting around in the spacious entrance hall. I’m extremely conscious of my appearance – I’m in the prime of life, I know just what my face and hair and clothing look like, that I am deliberately very reserved, with an almost severe and sad expression, because part of me know I shouldn’t have come in here, but another part of couldn’t resist the temptation, so I am not happy about it or myself. I walk around a corner, open a classroom door, and look inside. A nice looking young man see me, and immediately reacts to the beauty of my face, despite its less than open expression, and immediately gets up to follow me. But I close the door on him as I slowly make my way out of the building again, reluctantly, thinking how much I miss men, and how they used to look at me when they saw my face.
The typical thing – compensating for lost youth, and the drug-like fix of men being attracted to me. But I made progress last night by resisting and being almost lucidly conscious of what I was doing and not getting trapped in this old weakness by giving into temptation. This is one of my strongest attachments to earth, the sins of the flesh, which I indulged in excessively, along with pride and vanity, which thrive on being desired and desirable to others, but in the wrong, superficial, ultimately destructive and profoundly unsatisfactory ways. When I was fully lucid earlier in the night, I was trying to be good, to be seen in the right way in the dream space, as purely my soul.
Note: I wait over a year before posting my lucid dreams, in chronological order.
Dream of June 5, 2015
I become aware of having been alone in a shadowy space for some time. In the dream, I feel it’s a bathroom even though it’s as large as a room, and seems to have two levels—the one I’m on, slightly raised above an area with a closed door. I’m looking at my reflection in a mirror-wall, standing where I feel the shower should be. In the dimness, my skin is a whitish-gray. I am almost entirely naked, and pleased to observe that I continue losing weight. As I study my slender torso, I suddenly wonder what I’m doing in here, exposed and unprotected. I feel compelled to assure myself that my privacy is secure. But where is my little dog, Arthur?! Immediately, I see him curled happily up near the door, where he has been napping, as his contented ear-scratching motion catches my eye.
Feeling relaxed again, I step down to the main level. The walls all appear to be mirrors, and in each one I am confronted by myself. I’m much more slender than I was just a few months ago, but I don’t feel that I’m merely looking at my reflection. My body keeps appearing before me as though it is following Me around, separate from my awareness, and yet also intimately connected to it. I realize this when I deliberately turn, and embrace my self. The Me who initiates the embrace is as corporeal as my physical “reflection” for I distinctly feel the tender solidity of our arms around each other, and of our shoulders and torsos pressed together.
With intense emotion, I declare, “I love you, Maria!” and after thinking about it for a moment, add, “We’re doing our very best.” I know what is happening—my soul is consciously forgiving my self for its wounds and weaknesses, some of which are my own fault, some of which are not. But none of that matters anymore, because we are together now, united by my soul’s determined desire to grow spiritually stronger, and by the fact that God has made our mysterious union possible.
As my soul holds on to my self, we drift toward the right, and suddenly, but not surprisingly, I realize I’m embracing my sister, Lourdes, when the silhouette of her distinctive profile becomes visible just slightly above me to my right. This transition makes sense, for she is also part of Me. I allow the dream’s invisible current to carry us over to the opposite side of the space, and as we approach a corner, I inform Lourdes that we’ll be going through the wall now. I know we’ll pass right through the whiteness as if it was no more substantial than moonlight, and indeed we do.
Still clinging to each other—and floating a little ways above the ground like twins in a dream womb—I notice with satisfaction that we are in a residential neighborhood that looks and feels like an urban suburb. I notice an older building, illuminated on one side by a street light, which looks like renovated apartments. At this point, I remember my intent—to visit my brother’s home so I can try to heal him, or at least make him lucid. Then Lourdes says quietly, “That’s ? Street.” I can’t remember it now, but in the dream, I recognize the name of the street, and I know it means we’re already in or around Boston. Great, very close to my target. I say, “Let’s teleport to Mario’s apartment!” and for a second or two, we surge forward at high speed before coming to a stop. It seems we’ll have to settle for getting there in a series of fast travel spurts.
As we shoot forward again, to my left I notice a circular pool of white concrete or stone, approximately twenty-four feet in diameter, across which falls a shadow in the shape of a doorway. I immediately halt our progress and—separating from my sister while at the same time urging her to follow me—I land on the white surface. I intend to open this shadow door directly onto our destination, and as I bend down toward the shadow, an actual silvery metal doorknob materializes attached to a very real looking white door lying flat on the ground. Delighted, I grip the knob, and lift the door open as I tell my sister, “This door will open directly into Mario’s apartment.” Yet already I see that this portal actually opens onto pale blue sky. The perspective intriguingly skewed, I glimpse the tops of buildings below me, one of which I hope is my brother’s. As I’m about to fly down into the sky, I wake.
Note: I deliberately wait over a year before posting my lucid dreams, in chronological order.
Dream of March 21, 2015
I spend most of the night dreaming of my old friend, Cookie, and consequently thinking about her, and other things, in between dreams.
Asleep again, I’m in a dark old apartment, waiting, and finally Cookie arrives; I was afraid she wouldn’t come. She and I are both in our early twenties again physically, and she has on a blue jacket. She tells me she’s leaving today but wanted to say good bye. Out on my landing, a young dark-haired man is waiting. I take Cookie aside and hug her fervently, so sad she can never stay longer. She returns my embrace, then starts down the steps of what now is a subway station. Suddenly feeling really stoned, I follow more slowly, already having lost sight of her. I’m not at all sure I can manage being out in the world right now, because I am very stoned. I will have to concentrate on just the simple tasks, but I don’t turn back to my empty apartment. On the bottom floor, I see the glass doors of an exit leading out to a sunny day. Some women are standing in front of it, but I have eyes only for the bright golden coin lying on the floor between them, about the size of a U.S. quarter made of solid gold and reflecting the sunlight where it lies right in front of the glass doors. I quickly walk over and pick up this gift of a lucid dream, for I know that’s what this coin represents—a little reward for having immersed myself in love all night, for daring to love even though it can be difficult and painful sometimes.
Picking up the bright golden coin and becoming fully lucid, I open the glass doors and step into a great foyer with a high ceiling. In a semi-circle around me are three tall broad archways, through which I see different sunlit spaces which at first seem to lead outside, but as I approach the one on the left, I realize it’s an indoor scene, albeit very spacious and flooded with sunlight. Well, one of them may be interesting.
I choose the archway on my right, and enter a great dining hall of sorts full of long tables with white cloths set in spacious rows. There are many people sitting at the tables conversing as much as eating. Like the other chambers, this one is part of a great structure. I walk around, curiously studying my surroundings and the animated smiling faces of the people, before pausing at a table where a man of middle years with dark hair is sitting by himself on one side of the table, and not engaged in conversation with the women across from him. He has pale skin and, unlike everyone else, a self-centered, moody preoccupied expression.
Walking up to the man, I ask, “What are you thinking?” Without looking up at me, he either replies, or continues talking to himself, saying something about going down to the bathroom and…” I wonder if he’s thinking about committing suicide. I listen intently… No, he seems to want to perform some kind of experiment? He keeps mumbling to himself while I alternate looking at him, and at the faces of the other people at the table, in order to keep the dream stable, but I soon conclude out loud, “Okay, you’re boring” and walk away.
I leave the chamber and this time, when I enter the circular foyer, I notice a silvery door that clearly leads outside. I walk toward it, but then notice the open window to the door’s right, which is covered with the finest of screens, and I decide to fly Superman-style through this opening. It’s a tight squeeze for an instant, during which I become aware of music emanating from a small radio on the windowsill. I can still hear the music as I make it outside into the sky. Noticing a pair of women just below me to my left, I say, “Listen to the music” even as I wonder why it’s coming from a small radio instead of emanating from the dream space all around me.
High up in the air, I gaze across the lovely rural landscape toward a row of trees, all soft red and gold autumn colors, rising in the near distance, behind which towers a great sandstone-colored castle. Nice! I decide to go explore it, but I have no intention of doing the old-fashioned flying routine again. I will bring the castle to me. Willing the castle to come to me, I think passionately—I’m going to move mountains! And in a series of two-dimensional flashes, I perceive the line of trees and the castle behind them quantum leaping closer and closer, and it’s here! Wow, I did it!
I look down. I seem to be standing on one of the towers, but it looks more like a mile-high conical hut with a thatched grass roof, something primitive. Looking around and down, I see what appear to be the ruins of the castle I first saw, with half walls and empty rooms. I myself am perched on the undulating edge of a stone wall, very high up in the sky. Well, this is different. My perch bobs up and down gently as I scan the countryside and then look up at the clear, pale blue sky. I feel, suddenly, that this isn’t enough… I have a whole dream space to explore, but it feels almost as confining as waking reality.. This too is a creation, and my usual methods of interacting with it feel limited… I want more… some new, more transcendent approach. Even here in a lucid dream, all I want is to feel closer and closer to the Life, the Power, the Source of the dream, and of everything. Opening my arms, I let myself fall backward thinking—Lord, I’m going to try and help… You!” as I fall really fast toward the ground. But before I hit it, I slow down, and am gently supported by the dream air, just as I knew I would be. I wake.
In my next dream, I’m telling my husband, Stinger, and some other people, about my lucid dream, and soon find myself following Stinger into what looks like the partially ruined remains of the Cathedral-like building I was in, and from the outside of which I saw the castle behind the trees. There is clear blue sky visible above the half walls, and for some reason, Stinger is referring to what I saw in my lucid dream not as a castle but as a dragon, and he really wants to see it for himself. I keep telling him we can’t find it here, it was in my dream, but he is so insistent that I stop to stare at him where he stands behind a glass door, and I think—Why not? I’ll give him some basic training in lucid dreaming while we search for my dragon.
Lucid now, I grab his hand and begin flying toward another glass door, tugging him behind me. “Let’s name the dragon,” I suggest. “If we name it, I think we’ll have a better chance of finding it together.” He attempts to fly on his own and I watch, amused, as he flies Superman style, but only a few inches off the ground. “Straighten yourself out,” I instruct, “and reach that door before it closes!” I have to help him, but together we manage to pass through this barrier/portal.
Outside at night, we look up at a vast and vaguely horse-shaped cloud undulating against the dark sky. Stinger declares that’s our dragon, but as the cloud formation drifts from left to right, I study it skeptically. First of all, in my earlier lucid dream I saw a castle, not a dragon, and this looks more like a cosmic horse… Oh, what the heck, “Okay, let’s go for it!” I agree, feeling there is something especially powerful and intriguing about this cloud, which can take any form it wants to, or rather, any form The Creator chooses. I slowly wake.
I love that I spontaneously said, “Lord, I’m going to try to help… You!” My dreaming soul understands that a personal creative relationship with God is a dream that can come true if we want it to.
Note: I am now waiting nearly two years before I post my lucid dreams, in chronological order. I have a backlog of approximately 120 lucid dreams.
Dream of October 16, 2014
In the midst of dreams, I abruptly find myself standing in front of my deceased father, right next to a threshold on my left formed by a tall archway. The location feels like it is both outside and inside: a vast complex of some kind. In waking reality terms, it feels like a blend of a truly grand hotel, or series of hotels, with shops and restaurants, and numerous other amenities I can’t begin to guess at. The lighting is atmospheric; it may be night, but it’s hard to say, because there are subtle golden lights everywhere, especially in the lintels of doorways. But I don’t give the scenery too much thought, because I have eyes only for my Papi!
He is talking animatedly to me, grinning and gesturing, and I’m smiling back up at him happily. Wow! I am totally present with Papi in a dream, completely lucid. I look around me in awe. My lucidity feels as natural and steady as being awake, and I think—This is the most lucid I have ever been with Papi. I look back at him just as he points up toward heaven and delivers the punch line, “Such an interesting person!” In no time at all, I “download” the gist of his joke: It is about a man who is dead, but continues to cause delightful havoc as the journey of his soul’s growth continues.
I’m smiling as we cross the threshold beneath the archway and begin walking side-by-side. I feel myself consciously poised between two worlds, and that the death of my physical body will be, or at least can be, a seamless, peaceful transition to this spiritual State. We cross another open archway into a different section of the sprawling “complex” at which point I notice that Papi is holding a small package as he asks me, with happy impatience, “Where do you pay here?” I discern a short, curved line of people who all look as though they’re waiting for a cashier, and we move toward them. As we take our place, Papi asks me, looking around us with that wonderful smile of his I can never forget, “So, what have you been up to lately?”
I’m a little surprised by the question, and am about to say, “You know what I’ve been doing, Papi, lucid dreaming” but I keep silent, thinking how this is very much the Papi I remember—wrapped up in his own affairs, with only a certain amount of mental and emotional energy allotted for me and my life. Yet I always felt his love for me, and his desire to help me in any way he could. Oddly, this exchange is reassuring, because I would never have imagined him behaving this way in the after life.
The transaction happens quickly. Papi hands the attendant money, and doesn’t wait for change as he turns away and hands me another bill, which I slip into the right pocket of my wrap as we keep walking. Then another exchange, invisible to me, occurs, in which Papi ends up with another bill he also gives to me, and which I again slip into my pocket. It feels natural that my deceased father is giving me money, and that I am accepting it.
Passing over a third threshold, I feel we are now outside the “complex” which stretches along with us to our left. The lighting is clear and even now, like daytime on earth. As we follow a straight path, I hold tightly to Papi’s left hand with my right hand. I remember that I ask him four questions, but even though I remembered all the questions after I woke up, and his answers word-per-word, after a few seconds they just slipped out of my brain like water through a drain when the plug is pulled. I tried very hard to “re-download” his replies, but I could not, and I only recall my first two questions:
“Do people of different religions go to different places on the other side?”
His reply begins with the statement:
“If it’s true, it wouldn’t be right to…”
I heard everything he said to me, and although his exact words elude me now, I understood them in the dream. In essence, he told me that there is no linear time, and no objective space, outside material existence, only an eternal present perpetually being created by souls in constant relationship with God, so that any answer he gave me now in my dream might not be true in the future, as I still experience past and present. He told me that when something is true it must be known/experienced in order to actually be; the truth cannot merely be conceived of in certain ways we assume are objectively real.
After his final reply, I wake.
Dream of October 21, 2014
I find myself in a house, which I sense is filled with loved ones and a few other people I am close to, engaged in an activity I can’t remember now. I hear someone arrive at the front door, which is concealed behind the wall of a small entrance foyer behind me. I can’t interrupt what I’m doing, so I urge Mami – who drifts toward the door reluctantly in a long pale nightgown – to let the person in. I suffer a twinge of guilt at making her do this, because I know it’s my deceased father at the door, and that she’s afraid of the nightmares my dream encounters with him might give her. But I also think it’s time she got over this, and acknowledged his continued presence in our lives. She opens the door, and finishing up my task, I hurry over to greet him as, making a left around the wall of the foyer, he steps into the main room. He is wearing an immaculate, exquisitely tailored suit of a color blue that does not exist on earth, an uplifting, beautiful blue.
“Papi, you’re wearing the suit you wore in my last dream,” I exclaim, “the suit I knew you would wear!” He walks a little deeper into the space, and I stand happily before him, looking up at his face… looking up and up! “Papi, you’re getting taller!” I observe joyfully, because I feel I know this means he’s growing spiritually.
He stands there a moment, gazing over my head, a gently gratified smile on his face, which looks younger and darker, with a slight golden tan. (Normally, I see him as he appeared later in life). Then he looks down into my eyes, and suddenly we are face-to-face as we “glide” into a small room behind me, as though he is pushing me backward, his dark eyes gleaming with intense feeling. We “land” on a comfortable couch in this alcove, which is like a lucid drop of water in the rushing river of my previous dreams.
Papi looks grave now as he tells me about going to see his own long dead father, and I have to struggle to grasp what he’s saying, as I recall my paternal grandfather, who I rarely saw and didn’t much like, and the time I went with Papi to visit his grave. I’m confused, because Papi seems to be talking about his father as though he is still dead. “We couldn’t go back to our house,” he tells me, “because of the people who live there now…”
My confusion peaking, I exclaim, “But Papi, there are no physical bodies on the other side.”
He was staring into the distance as he spoke, but now he looks at me and says, “Oh, no, but together we help each other get through it…” That makes sense, that he and his father are helping each other in ways only they can fathom.
I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, gazing down at him where he reclines against it. At this point, I ask him a question I can’t recall now, but I clearly, vividly, remember his response:
“God is there,” he says, and suddenly I perceive slender shafts of golden light shining down from above and behind him, as if cradling him. “You feel pain in your essence…” He rests his left hand over where his physical heart would have been, and I observe a soft, white light that seems concentrated in his chest area. “Forceful people come to you…”
A perfect understanding fills me as I look at his face, and the light, and listen to his words.
We stand up together, but I quickly move over to another couch, where I find pen and paper, and quickly write down his responses to me word-per-word, determined to remember them this time when I wake up. Then I go stand beside him where he is leaning against one wall as my deceased maternal grandmother, standing close to an adjacent wall, silently observes us from a few feet away. I’m thinking hard about the question rising up from my heart without my conscious intent:
“You can’t ever see God?” I ask, and know at once it did not come out right, because Papi looks astonished, and a little incensed, as if what I just said is ridiculous, and I quickly add, “Of course you can see Him! You see Him all the time, because He is All, the Absolute.”
Papi’s mollified expression seems to confirm my words as I phase out of the dream.
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 September 4, 2014
Night time. From inside a very large and dark building, I lead two men into a dark, tree-filled garden. I’m dreaming of being lucid in a dream. It’s odd, but I seem to be lucidly observing the lucidity of my dream self. I sense the men came with me reluctantly, and that they don’t know why I brought them outside in the middle of the night. I ask them, “Want to go flying?” They do not, so I leave them behind as I soar up into the star-filled sky. At the same time, I’m conscious of being back inside the building, thinking about how I can do things differently so the two men will better understand we’re dreaming. I decide it won’t work either way, and permit my dreaming awareness to fly really fast through the trees in the darkness. I know they won’t get in my way as I surrender to a strong pull toward the road I know lies outside the grounds of the building.
The road below me glows a dim white, and is deserted. I’m flying in a standing position, at a sedate pace, in the direction of vague golden lights that aren’t far away, and which I sense belong to some small city square. I feel I may have flown off into the starry sky if the dream hadn’t pulled me in this direction. As I glide along, I experience a strange excitement that prompts me to laugh beneath my breath.
Very soon, I clearly distinguish the figure of a slender man hovering a few feet over the road, flying in a standing position just like me, but in the opposite direction. He also sees me, and I study him intently as we slowly converge, then begin orbiting each other. I identify him as another lucid dreamer, but I want to know what his intentions are; what he’s planning to do in the dream space. Our conversation is telepathic (at least I don’t recall any words being spoken) and his responses disappoint me, although they don’t surprise me. It seems that, for him, being lucid is all about having sex, and power.
Suddenly, I’m afraid this dreamer may be a member of the “lucid gang” that walks out of the darkness, heading straight for the town walls behind me. I seem to know they are all lucid dreamers returning from some seriously selfish fun. Their leader has light hair and, as he passes by me, all he has to do is look at me for me to know he just raped, and devoured, a little girl, literally. Another telepathic exchange of communication occurs in which I let him know just how I feel about lucid dreamers like them.
Abruptly, as I stare at this terrible person, I distinguish the faint but unmistakable outlines of a little’s girl’s head inside his belly—her entire body is inside him, and she is still alive. I don’t even think about it; I immediately reach toward her and say, “Come out, sweetie! You can do it! This is a dream, and nothing can hurt you here!” She apparently hears me, because she emerges, stepping out of the man. I hug her thin little body, and tell the man, iron in my voice, “She belongs to me. In the dream space she is under my protection now. Do you understand?”
Holding the little girl in my arms, I enter something resembling an empty elevator shaft, and begin ascending at a steady pace, rising up through a misty gray atmosphere, up and up away from that dangerous “lucid gang.” I sense they will not, because they cannot, follow me, but I desire to put as much space between them, and us, as possible. I don’t really know where this shaft-like vertical tunnel will take us, or even how long it is, but I soon come to a ledge that leads us into a large, open space. Here I become aware of a man with dark hair, and wearing dark clothes, who is accompanying me in order to help us. The space I’m in now seems to be the top floor – almost like an enclosed roof – of a large building with windows lining one side.
I watch as the man smashes a hole in the window directly across from where I’m standing on the opposite side of the room. More telepathic communication, although it’s already obvious to me that he’s helping us find a way out. But the glass is resistant, and the hole he made is not yet large enough for us to fly through. He consults with a woman to my right, who is also aiding us, and who temporarily takes charge of the little girl for me as I walk over to the window. For some reason, I lie down on my back in front of it, looking up at it.
When we first entered the space, I wondered why this window posed a barrier, why I couldn’t simply fly through the roof and away, since this was a dream. But for some reason, that isn’t possible, so I continue the man’s work of trying to create a hole big enough to fly through. I reach behind me, pick up a nice big chunk of ice, and throw it as hard as I can against the loose section of icy glass hanging from the top left side of the window. I succeed in hitting it, but it only weakens the section a little bit more without dislodging it. I repeat this procedure three or four times, even though each time the ice-rock I use bounces back toward me, and I risk being struck hard by it myself. Eventually, there is a large enough hole in the glass for all of us to fly through.
We fly down to the ground outside the building. The man is holding a phone, and I see, close up, his fingers pressing down on the circular numbers without any effect. He says, “It doesn’t work.”
I take the phone from him impatiently. “Of course it does, this is a dream and we can make it work.” I dial the man we’re trying to reach – the man who raped and devoured the little girl I rescued. I hear him pick up on the other end, where I sense he is leading a discussion. I warn him, “This is about a little girl…” He replies, “Oh-oh” but he doesn’t actually sound concerned. I wake.
Seeking counsel from the Gospels about this dream, and about the book I feel the Lord wants me to write Lucid Dreams and the Holy Spirit, I randomly opened the New Testament to this passage:
“And in the synagogue there was a man who had the spirit of an unclean demon and he cried out in a great voice: Ha. What is there between us and you, Jesus of Nazareth? Did you come to destroy us? I know you, who you are, God’s holy one. Jesus reproved him, saying, ‘Be silent and go out of him.’ And the demon flung him down in their midst and came out of him, without doing him any harm.” Luke 4:33-35
This struck me as an uncanny mirror image of my dream, in which the little girl emerged, unharmed, from the demon-like man who had consumed her.
This is not the first time I have encountered and banished “demons” as well as protected/rescued people in the dream space. In fact, this happens regularly.