A Pocket in Space and Time

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

Sara's Self Portrait

Sara’s Self Portrait

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We wander outside onto my brick courtyard, where the couple has been replaced by a slightly larger group of people playing and/or performing in some way.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.

Dream Notes:

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.


Awake and Dreaming

I am now waiting 9 months before posting my lucid dreams, which means I am approximately 50 lucid dreams behind.

May 28, 2014 I’m aware of being in a vast hotel of sorts with my husband, Stinger and my mother, who is waiting for us. Stinger is busy, and I find myself walking down a magnificently broad aisle toward where I can see Mami in the near distance. She is reclining on one of a pair of luxurious chaise lounges, brown with dark-gold trims, placed side-by-side. I have never seen chairs like these, and it lets me know that where I am is a very special place. Only an elite crowd stays here, but it has nothing to do with how much money you have. I promptly make myself comfortable in the empty chair beside Mami’s. It’s difficult to describe where we are. High triangular wooden arches evoke the foyer of a Cathedral, and a woman is greeting newcomers, offering them refreshment. I simply observe the hostess for a while…  Lost time…

The next thing I know, the sumptuous chaise lounge Mami is sitting in is now white and spherical and floating high above the floor. I’m clinging desperately to her hand as I float above her, my legs in the air above my head. I feel that only by holding onto her can I prevent myself from plummeting to my death. Then, abruptly, I realize it’s okay, that I can simply let go of her and enter a lucid dream. I promptly do so, and find myself slowly drifting and spinning. Again, it’s impossible to say where I am, exactly. The structure appears circular, and it is so massive the floor and ceiling aren’t visible, nor are the sides farthest from me. Nearby in a white wall, there is a rectangular opening at least twice as high as I am and much broader. I clearly discern some shining metal fixtures on the top edge, from which I consider hanging for a moment. I know I’m dreaming, but I can’t completely shake the concern gravity might assert itself, even though I know this won’t happen. As I continue slowly drifting and spinning, I lose visuals. When they eventually return, the first thing I see is a diffused golden light, after which the structure takes form around me again. This happens several times as I exercise my dream body, moving like a weightless acrobat.

I plant my hands against a surface I intend to be solid, and which I distinctly feel as I twirl around and set my bare feet down against it. I’m very conscious of the fact that my movements and intentions are contributing to the creation of dimensions, and the sensations of a firm surface against my feet and hands. I’m not just waiting for visuals to return, I’m actively assisting in their reappearance. I execute a back bend, spinning around in mid air. I could never do back bends in waking reality, and it seems a good way to begin pushing my limits. I lose all visuals again as I execute the motion, but they return as described…

Lost time? False Awakening: I become aware of being outside at either dusk or dawn, floating just above a city street as I cross it, reclining comfortably in the air, as though on my own bed, and clutching a golden pillow against my chest. I feel perfectly relaxed and yet also in control as a bright yellow vehicle I recognize as a taxi comes into view. It is nearly as big as a bus, and swiftly approaching, on a collision course with my body. I can’t make myself move any faster, but I’m not concerned; I know it can’t hurt me, and that I will reach the sidewalk in time, which is exactly what happens. I seem to feel the wind of the vehicle’s passing, and wonder what the driver thinks of the impossible sight of a woman floating in a reclining position across the street holding a pillow. Then I wonder at how natural it is for me to be outside in the real world like this. It seems a reflection of the fact that lucid dreaming is second nature to me now. I seem to be both awake and lucid dreaming because waking reality is also a dream. I’m aware that in the “real” world I wouldn’t be able to defy gravity like this, because the air wouldn’t support me like my own bed, and yet I know I’m dreaming while awake, that it’s becoming second nature for me to be lucid in both states.

As I approach a yellow glass building much taller than it is broad, floating toward the dark entrance, I catch sight of my reflection in the opaque glass. My image is a dark-gold color, shadowy and yet well defined, and I’m smiling at myself, grinning with a Cheshire cat-like satisfaction, confidence and pleasure. My head, face and torso are just a little narrower and longer than in waking reality, and my hair is long and straight, which gives me a distinctly fey appearance.

Lost time… I’m standing in front of a white building holding my little dog Arthur in my arms. I’m about to enter the structure when I question why I would do so, when instead I can stay out here and turn this into another lucid dream. I set Arthur down, and he walks behind me, but when I glance back at him, he is only a misty outline, and looks more like the ghost of Merlin, the Shih Tzu I owned before him. It makes sense to me that my two beloved doggies have merged like this, yet it seems more likely I am with Merlin now. It’s nighttime, and I’m following a broad white path, walking along a structure that rises on my left. A few yards away on my right there is open space that feels like a large black body of water, either a river or an ocean bay.

Then I glance up at the sky and stop short, astonished by what I see high above me in the starry universe—geometric constellations composed of bright white musical notes crammed together, and streaking swiftly across the sky, so that their clusters also evoke algebra equations. This is impossible! Magical! But just a little too perfect? Suddenly, I understand that what I’m seeing are projections, a fantastic display orchestrated by the mysterious high-end resort I seem to have come upon. As I stand there, marveling at this Disney-like mathematical heaven, two men on their way out suddenly pause near me, and one of them says, “Let’s stay the night. Why leave now? We can-” They turn around, and he describes a decadent-sounding purple drink he intends to order, accompanied by some celestial version of a cigar. As they head back inside, I study them curiously. They are both tall and handsome in an average way, well dressed and affluent enough to afford this place. I also get the feeling they are a couple.

Lost time… I’m inside a woman’s home, sitting at a table with several other people. She is very accommodating, but there is nothing wealthy or special about the decor. I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but I feel comfortable, and the people are all somehow familiar to me. I close my eyes, fall asleep, and become lucid again. In this lucid dream nestled within a false awakening, I think about the white mathematical musical notes flying across the universe which at first seemed awe inspiring, but then so obviously like man-made projections lacking that ineffable yet unmistakable Divine touch. I wonder if I stumbled upon a high-end section of Purgatory, resort-like, but still Purgatory, because God was not truly present in that universe, which I can only describe as an odd blend of modern physics and Disney World… I open my eyes, believing I wake up where I’m still sitting at a table—a false awakening nestled in another false awakening, with a lucid dream in between, like some sort of consciousness sandwich!

I’m struck by the fact that I just fell asleep, and had a lucid dream in public. Wow. How did I manage not to topple over in my chair? We’re all apparently having a meeting and discussion of some kind around this table, because no one is eating… I phase out of the dream, finally waking up for real.

After getting up to quickly write down key words and thoughts about these multiple lucid dreams and false awakenings, I go back to sleep. Just before waking for the day, I received an image of a circular white-framed window divided into six or eight panes through which I clearly see distant stars shining in the black depths of space, and this window is spinning at a steady rate, like a wheel, even as it remains in place.

Asking Papi About His Life on the Other Side of Death

I am waiting over 7 months before posting my lucid dreams, so I am approximately 40 lucid dreams behind.

Dream of May 6, 2014
It’s a lovely day and I’ve walked halfway down our long, curving black driveway, which is surrounded by trees in full summer leaf. After I take care of some private ritual business off to one side in the grass, I begin walking slowly back up the driveway toward the house. Everything feels absolutely real, more vividly sensual than normal; even the slightly rough texture of the black asphalt beneath my bare feet tempts me to lie down on it and experience it’s unique sensation more intimately. I dismiss this urge, and for a few moments the world goes dark, but not completely, because to the right of one of our tallest tulip trees there is still the luminous sky, and the edge of the darkness is defined by the shape of this beloved tree I look at every single day. Relaxed, I continue walking, simply waiting for my full vision to return, which it does. Once again I’m walking on a lovely sunny day. I’m thinking about, and feeling deeply grateful for, how much I love my home as I round the final curve in the driveway.

The house comes into view, and immediately I see a man walking toward me. Behind him, an intimate group of people is gathered at the top of the drive where it merges with the brick courtyard. My heart literally seems to expand in my chest when I realize the visitor is Papi! He strides across the grass toward me, smiling his beloved smile. Above “normal” clothes, he is wearing a flesh-colored fur cape, long and affluent-looking, but light enough to billow around him. I hurry to meet him, gazing joyfully at his face and into his eyes.

“Papi! I didn’t expect you!” I see that his third wife Adela (who is still alive) is part of his retinue when she shoots me a look that clearly says they need to be on their way. Papi lets me know, without actually telling me so, that he only dropped by to say hello, that he can’t stay, and already he’s turning toward the big car around which the others are gathering. I suffer the sinking feeling I am all too familiar with. It’s obvious I desire to spend more time with him than he does with me, which makes me really sad. I protest, “You can’t just stop by for five minutes, Papi! You have to stay! Please, Papi!” I will NOT let him leave so soon…

Abruptly, we are all inside a small, rectangular room I know is part of my house (although not in waking reality). I instantly grasp this is an antechamber of sorts where guests can congregate, as they do now, some sitting, others standing and talking in the clear, even light. There are no lamps, no furnishings at all, but a man with dark hair, his back to me (my brother?) is loudly and passionately playing a piano. Papi is standing a few feet away from me, smiling and saying something to someone. He looks happy and healthy, which makes me happy but also confuses me. Can it be that his leukemia is in remission? He has been sick for years, and yet not only is he still alive, he looks as though he might actually be getting better?

A dark transition I can’t remember… The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a bigger and darker room, where, diagonally across from me, Papi is seated in the center of a couch. Keeping my focus on him, I somehow manage to pull myself up into a standing position, and walk over to him. Looking intently down into his eyes, I say, “It’s okay, I’m lucid now. I wasn’t lucid before. I understand that you’re dead.”

Smiling, he replies, “Of course I’m dead.”

Still standing over him, I declare, “I haven’t been lucid like this with you since the night on top of that building in Coral Gables, when we were going down to eat together.” He responds to this, but all I remember of what he says is, “Of course you would.”

I sit down beside him on the couch to his left. As we talk, I look directly into his dark eyes, which appear bloodshot. Or is it that his pupils and irises are wider than in physical life and obscuring the whites? I ask him many questions, and our positions relative to each other occasionally shift as we converse. I wish I could remember everything we talked about word-per-word, but I do know for a fact that I was perceiving the Other Side as he is experiencing it. At the beginning of our long conversation, I clearly sensed from him that life-after-death isn’t what he had expected it to be; that it is much like physical life but infinitely more dynamic, a “process” he is actively, profoundly engaged in.

At one point, while we’re both standing, he tells me about a female acquaintance who really wants a particular golden mausoleum for herself. I realize he’s making a joke about dead people tomb-hunting the way living people house hunt. I exclaim, “You don’t really live in mausoleums here!” and he smiles at me the way I remember him doing whenever he was pulling my leg.

Well into our conversation, I ask him, “Is there an infrastructure here?”

He looks away, and the wonder in his voice is shadowed by fear as he answers, “Maria, it’s as if the center of the city is alive…”


This makes wonderful sense to me and I tell him, “It must be the heart” as in the Sacred Heart. The image that flashes in my mind when he says this is of an open city square filled with a misty dark-blue light manifesting between the buildings, and joining earth and sky as it juts out slightly, almost like a breast subtly pulsing, profoundly, unfathomably alive, but just one small, intimate connection—like a private bay adjoining an unimaginably vast ocean—to an absolute supreme awareness, all-knowing, all-nurturing, all-giving, unending Life. It is nearly impossible for me to describe what I felt in that vision, but I instantly grasp that the world Papi is living in now constantly manifests his innermost thoughts and feelings.

Excited, I tell him, “I have a theory, Papi, that we are all like cells in a single body, so here (the Other Side) individual souls might be like cells bringing this world to life.” I seem to comprehend that the activity of “day-to-day” life here centers on experiencing and “working” with your soul, which is effectively turned inside-out.

We’re sitting up facing each other while also somehow embracing. I say, “I’ve asked you a lot of questions, Papi, and I’ve been dreaming for a long time. It’s going to be hard for me to remember everything you said. Let’s go over the points we covered. First, the infrastructure here is alive…” I phase out of the dream.

Dream Notes:

I got the impression that Papi and everyone else in this Other Side city/world was, metaphorically, suckling at this same “cosmic breast” which cared for them while helping them grow. It was not his creation; he was a little afraid of it.

Today I am tired, in a good way. There is much, much to absorb. My mother pointed out how at the beginning of the dream, I had to insist that my father stay and spend time with me, and how it was my determination that obliged him to actually sit down and talk to me in a lucid dream. I am only just realizing what a milestone this is in our relationship and, perhaps, I hope, in his own spiritual growth. I know he loved me, but he always cut our phone conversations off after the preliminaries, when there was the real danger they might become more intimate, and he might have to answer deeper questions about how he was really feeling. This time, I didn’t let him hang up!

From a Christian perspective, my father is in Purgatory. In modern spiritual parlance, he is in one of countless concensus realities created by souls who prefer a more earth-like existence while they continue to learn and grow spiritually, and so on. The Sacred Heart which Papi described as the center of the city being alive connects this “place” on the Other Side with God, but it is not heaven, which in itself is not a place but true, full union with God.

It is no accident this incredible dream with Papi comes now when I have re-embraced Christ. The darkness of the dream scene was a manifestation of the darkness of my father’s spiritual doubts and his fear of death. He was a good man who devoted himself to helping poor people in developing countries as director of USAID in Central America, which may explain the rather technical word I found myself spontaneously using in the dream “infrastructure”, for much of his work consisted of overseeing the development of more modern infrastructures in poor rural areas.

Shaman & Church Fountains

Note: I am now waiting 7 months before posting my lucid dreams, which means I am approximately 40 lucid dreams behind.

April 10, 2014

It was like someone slipped me some G last night, because after about 2:30 I lay awake, and eventually began getting on and off the hypnagogic roller coaster. At least four times, I fell asleep consciously, and lay listening to my body breathing in and out as darkness and light swirled before me, coalescing into scenes, and then abruptly deleting them. At certain points, it was like someone was playing with an old TV remote control as I heard, and saw, vivid black and white dream scenes, which were suddenly cut off. I was poised on this bridge between waking and sleeping for hours, wondering if anyone I knew was suffering from insomnia tonight, because this is unusual for me. I shifted my body’s sleeping position occasionally, but immediately found myself on the hypnagogic bridge again.

Finally, I have somehow embedded myself in the darkness of hypnagogia, as though by force of will; I managed to roll off a bridge into a dream scene. I feel myself in a room, even though I can’t see anything in the absolute darkness. But that doesn’t matter, because I can distinctly feel my dream body slumped on a floor. I also glimpse the faint light of a woman’s blonde hair, and distinctly sense her presence. I say, “Tilly, is that you?” I don’t wait for a response; the important thing is to fully enter the dream. I urge her to “Pull me up by my hair” and telepathically assure her that she won’t hurt me. I can feel – even see from outside my body – my long hair stretching upward, like the stream of a comet, as I feel a tug and a pull on it, which helps lift my body out from under me. I reach for support, and find it in the form of a small wooden table I catch a glimpse of as I brace myself on it, and finish leveraging myself up into a standing position. I can see something now – my mother, who is standing nearby and watching me pull myself fully into the dream. Mami is definitely there, but I can also tell that only a “portion of her consciousness” is with me, as often happens in my lucid dreams.

I’ve made it into a dream, but I can still barely see the room as my body begins doing that mysterious counterclockwise, out of body spin where I drift a foot or two above the floor, gliding slowly across the small space. I think out loud—What is it with this spin…? I can see a woman standing just in front of Mami, and finding the floor again, I declare, “It’s dark, let’s make light!” I close and my eyes, shape my hands into fists, and then I quickly open my eyes again, intending to emanate a burst of illumination from my palms, but the room remains dark. Oh well, we can simply leave! I glide down a stairwell, sensing the woman following me, and immediately perceive bright daylight between the cracks of a door. “Daylight!” I exclaim. Easily shoving the door open with both hands, I fly outside, and then glide slowly, and just slightly above, a vividly colorful scene which. At first, I perceive the dream scape through one or more long rectangular openings, as though I’m inside a hovering vehicle of some kind, which is passing silently over a throng of people, mostly men. I remark to my silent companion, “This is like a video game” because the colors are almost too bright, and the men’s facial complexion are at once a little too vivid and slightly blurry, in an artistic way.

Then the rectangular windows are gone, and I’m flying a few feet above the broad (packed dirt?) street of a city that feels foreign, modern but in a Third World kind of way. Suddenly, a woman’s arms slip around me, and I happily reciprocate, feeling the slenderness of her waist and enjoying the sensation of holding a woman in my arms instead of a man. I’m thinking it must be Tilly and I say, “Tilly?” We’re gliding smoothly above the street, and when she doesn’t reply, I draw back a little to look at her. At once I think—This can’t be Tilly.

She’s looking straight ahead, her dark eyes fixed on her goal as she speaks urgently, but also calmly and clearly, informing me that where she lives is under threat. I’m distracted from her words by how disturbingly thin she is, very much like a skeleton draped in colorful clothing. I focus on the tooth pressed against the bottom center of her chin… Something isn’t right. Her jaw bone is almost visible through her dry, desiccated skin, and I suffer the impression that I’m holding on to a dead woman who is still wearing her ritual burial clothing and adornments… that one tooth of hers does seem to be deliberately strapped to her head with a very thin cord. She says, “I live under threat by…” as she carries me somewhere, obviously feeling I can help, but I don’t really want to go with her. I break gently away from her, and fly off on my own. Selfish of me? But I don’t feel I can handle whatever that was all about right now.

Studying the city below me, I experience a strong impression that I’m in Pakistan, or somewhere in those environs. I alight on a sidewalk of sorts, and as men in brownish robes and turbans pass by without taking any notice of me, I abruptly remember my lunar healing pool intent. I remembered! Hagia Sophia museum. Istanbul, TurkeyImmediately – in the distance across a flat expanse of what might be sand – I see a white cathedral, its softly rounded central dome flanked by two shorter rectangular wings. The perfect place to find my pool of power! I close my eyes and will myself there. The technique works – when I open my eyes again, I am just outside the temple grounds, in which I see at least two stone fountains. These fountains appear designed to reflect natural rivers and creeks, for their water flowing down, and over, stone walls instead spraying in frothy jets into the air. I promptly attempt to fly to the fountains, but discover an invisible wall before me. I realize I’m trying to fly Superman-style. Pressing my arms to my sides, I try the dolphin kick method instead. Nothing happens; the invisible barrier is still there blocking my progress. I attempt willing myself to the fountains, but that doesn’t work either. I refuse to be deterred when I’m so close! I have a specific healing intent in mind, a very ambitious one. Damn it, I’m getting to those fountains! I turn and begin backstroking through the air. It’s slow going, but I’ll get their eventually. At last, I arrive at the fountains, and stand beside the one closest to me as I consider my options. The fountain is not very big, and the water looks rather shallow where it flows, a little too sedately, over sandstone openings and rocks. The fountain pool just beyond it, and slightly to my left, looks deeper, and the water flows in a slightly more lively fashion over more natural-looking stones. I decide it seems more promising, even though I’m not really sure how I can use it for my particular intent, which is to heal my periodontal condition, regenerating both gum and bone loss. As I move toward this second pool, I lose the dream.

Dream Notes:

It seems quite significant that I felt as though I could see the woman’s jaw bone, and that she had a tooth strapped to her head, since the healing intent I have been incubating for a  while now relates to my mouth, and my jaw bone specifically, to the bone loss there. Once you have periodontal disease, you can take measures to keep it under control, but you always “live under threat” of the bacteria that causes it, and if gum and bone loss have already occurred, it’s a day-to-day struggle to keep away the microscopic invaders. I have really strong teeth, I’ve never had a cavity – the tooth the skeletal woman wore was white, and looked to be in good condition. In which case, I have to wonder why she looked like a well preserved mummy. I distinctly remember the color red in her tunic, maybe even a feather or two adorning her, as though she had been ritually buried. There was something distinctly Shamanic about her appearance, and she was carrying me somewhere I didn’t feel I wanted to go.

I usually don’t run away like that in a lucid dream. I think part of me is not one-hundred percent sure this healing intent is realistic and possible, precisely because it seems a flagrant defiance of the natural order of things, which of course culminates in physical death. I think the mummy-woman was, in some sense, my own conflicted soul, torn between the rightness of embracing my mortality, and a stubborn, selfish desire to get my Spirit to help my dreaming mind heal myself of this non-life threatening condition. 

In life everything is a process. I know now, months later, that this dream also revealed how my soul wanted to get away from the currently popular Shamanic New Age approach to life and dream powers, and instead to fully embrace my not-so-politically-correct-these-days Christian faith in a loving Creator – no magic, no spells, no drug-induced rituals needed, simply “Ask and you shall receive.” I feel now that the fountains in my dream contained baptismal waters, shallow and not very strong at the time of the dream but soon to overflow. In this dream, my soul turned away from a selfish, and unnecessary, healing intent, which was threatening to lead me down the wrong path. In this dream, I made a choice, which bore glorious spiritual fruit less than a month later. 

At the time i had this dream, I was in danger of believing that I alone was capable of doing whatever I truly believed was possible in lucid dreams, that it was only a matter of formulating the right intent and carrying it out. I abandoned the skeletal woman with the tooth necklace, and was rewarded by a church surrounded by fountains – the fountains of God’s love, the source of all life, without which I have no power to do anything, to be anything, at all. The few times I have succeeded in healing myself and a loved one in lucid dreams, the need was pressing. In the case of wanting to heal my periodontal disease, it was only because I was annoyed by all the flossing and irrigating. It wasn’t because I truly needed to try and heal myself to be healthy and happy, it was because I wanted to prove it was possible to heal bone loss in a lucid dream – I wanted to prove that there are no limits to lucid dream healing powers. So why not arrest, and reverse, the aging process as well…? I was crossing a spiritually dangerous line believing I could, just because I could lucid dream, acquire and develop God-like powers, as if this bag-of-bones, and the finite brain inside my skull, could possibly be ready for such a responsibility. I was seeking to preserve my self, wrapped up in my dream powers with which I was in danger of arrogantly attempting to mummifying my self, this one ego, this one little life time, to the horror of my soul – my dream self in the arms of that Shamanic skeleton who escaped her, and flew straight to the church that appeared and the Spirit’s life-giving waters.