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.

Lunar Healing Night 2 + Visiting Ancient Egypt

Note: I am now 6 months behind in posting my lucid dreams. This means I am approximately 30 lucid dreams behind.

January 21, 2014
Waning Gibbous, Void Moon

By W.s.w.p. (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons

Lunar Healing Night 2

In my lucid dreaming bed, drifting in and out of sleep, and watching the moon moving across the sky parallel to my bed, at around 2:20 I finally wake up completely from the discomfort of bloating and gas, something I rarely suffer from. I begin breathing deeply, from my stomach up into my chest, and on the exhale, I visualize Chi healing energy flowing down into my belly as a curtain of soothing, milky mist. I keep at it, relaxing into it, and it has the same effect, but much faster, than taking an antacid would have, bringing obvious relief. However, if I turn into any other position, the symptoms return, and I won’t be able to fall asleep if I have to keep performing Reike. I’ve been awake for more than an hour, but I still reject the idea of taking any medication. I would much rather become lucid, and heal myself in a dream. To that end, I close my eyes and concentrate my vision as I continue breathing steadily. Very soon, I begin riding hypnagogic imagery.

I’m part of a scene, one of three people urgently lining up to be beamed up to our star ship. I’m standing on the far right, and I jerk my left hand away from the person on my left, because we can’t touch as we beam up, if we do, our molecules will merge. We materialize on the bridge, and I quickly follow my two companions down the white, slightly curving stairway leading to the elevator, but the steps are too high and the ceiling partially blocks the entrance… I move on, fully conscious now of riding hypnagogic imagery as I perceive what looks like a black-and-white version of a section of my kitchen counter top. Then suddenly, clear as day, I’m awake in a dream, and apparently inside my physical body! I clearly see the deep rosy color of what, at first, I think might be a massive red blood cell, but which I then seem to recognize as my esophagus! I’m somewhere near the base of my neck looking down at it’s narrow passage. I gaze at the inside of my body in fascination for a little while before waking.

My heartburn is getting worse as I drift off on hypnagogic imagery again… I’m outside at night standing in the snow with Stinger and our small dog, Arthur. The house is a few yards away, but the scene does not parallel waking reality. Where the entrance to the basement is evokes the layout of my childhood home, and yet the whole scene is different. We’re working on something located in a mound of snow that is about chest high. When Stinger turns away and heads back inside, calling Arthur in after him, I follow them to the door, but only to inform him that I intend to stay outside. I love the snowy night so much that, as I walk past whatever we were working on, I begin singing, “Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a drop of golden sun! Me, a name, I call myself, Fa a long long way to run!…” (Not the first time I’ve sung a tune from The Sound of Music in a lucid dream even though I’m not a big fan of the film.) I then become aware that I have managed to imbed myself in a hypnagogic scene, and intend to walk fully into the dream along the dark, snowy path rising between two white residential buildings about three stories high. The land slopes slightly upward into darkness, and I have no desire to resist the mystery and adventure of following it. When I see a sharp black shadow cast by a lamp in an upstairs window of the building just ahead of me on my left, I focus on it, and the more I focus on it, the sharper it gets, until I suddenly experience what feels like a cone-shaped energy rising from the top of my head. Up and up I go into the night sky and a lucid dream!

I look at my hands, faint but perfectly shaped, distinct silhouettes in the deeper darkness, which is not uniform—flowing here and there through the blackness is a rich, deep royal blue color. I intend to heal myself, but instead of thinking about how to go about it, I keep my hands raised before me. I think, referring to the healing energy I’m completely immersed in—It’s all mine! All mine! For a moment, I wonder if I’m being arrogant, but then I know it’s simply true—this energy, the dark sky, me, we are all connected. Then I see the moon, which feels very close, and yet it looks as it actually would from where I live on earth, waning but still clearly visible. Fine shafts of golden light radiate from the moon’s dark side that reach out and touch the fingertips of my left hand. (The fine shafts of light resemble the effect produced when I squint my eyes while looking directly at a bright light.) It is a brief but powerful contact, I know this, and my dream hands actually feel hot, so full of energy they almost hurt…

I seem to descend as I transition to an indoor scene. I’m floating, in a spiraling clockwise direction, about a foot or two above the floor, traversing a dimly lit space, where I see a dark figure seated at a white table. I say politely but loudly, “Hello!” as I float past the silent silhouette, hoping to engage it in conversation. It doesn’t respond, and I ask, “Are you a DC? Are you a Dream Character?” I glide above a young woman sitting alone with a desultory look on her face, and a bored, almost resigned air about her. The nature of the place is hard to identify, public yet also residential, and maybe educational and/or a waiting room of sorts. Everything is white. I don’t have control of my dream body, and drift into waking. This dream lasted only about 10-15 minutes clock time. When I woke, there was no sign of my gas. My stomach felt fine, no more bloating, discomfort, nothing. It did not return.

A Memory of Ancient Egypt

I’m outside X’s house. We are happily talking. I enter his home, in search of something. I experience an awkward shock when his wife enters the airy, spacious room holding a glass of water, or some other liquid. She is wearing an ankle length tunic dress of a single color, perhaps a light-green, with some subtle pattern sewn into the fabric. I know she is aware that X and I had illicit feelings for each other once. At first I think her smile is sardonic, in a pained, somewhat angry way, but we end up walking rather companionably toward the front door, remarking on the heat of the day, and how being near water makes it so much more bearable, but never uncomfortably humid. We pass a breathtaking sight—a large, and not very deep pool of sparkling blue water. A single long white step leads down from the living area almost directly into the pool. This side of the living area is completely open to a view of sunlit water, with the feel of a garden extending beyond it on both sides. The woman and I end up sitting facing each other in a shady alcove adjoining the front entrance, conversing, and pleasantly relaxed. She is still X’s wife, but she seems a slightly different woman now. She confesses to me that every night she watches the distant figures of my husband and I, whenever we pass in front one of our large white home’s various windows. She compliments the robe I wear on some occasions, but what really entrances her, what she praises with deep emotion, is my grace. She says, “All your movements are filled with such a beautiful, natural grace.” She is being very flattering, and I think I should also compliment her, but I somehow know it isn’t necessary for me to do so, that it actually wouldn’t be correct to put her on my level. Instead, I say earnestly, “You and your husband must come and have dinner with us one night” and though she seems more than agreeable to this, she is not sure when that could be, because her husband is away for weeks at a time, and this has something to do with his work and his art. I get the impression he works at night, or in the dark. So I suggest brunch one afternoon instead. “I’m sure we will find the right opportunity,” I conclude…

I go and find X again. He is seated with a small group of his co-workers. They are all wearing white uniforms that look dusty. They are on break, perhaps eating and drinking while they consult small tablets, or other items related to their work. I tell him I saw his wife, but I am really there to inspect the progress of the work. As I descend a steep wooden plank, notched as though with shallow steps, I hear his voice following me down the shaft telling me what his wife told him—that the gods gave them their son to be their great comfort in life. He also complains that she is too traditional, too sedate, or something to that effect. I listen sympathetically, but then become distracted by the debris littering the descending plank—art supplies, construction tools, pieces of paper, so much stuff, I can barely prevent myself from slipping. I call up to them in a commanding voice, “Clean up these steps! They are a hazard!” and phase out of the dream in the way I do after a “true” dream.

Dream Notes:

This dream is a mysterious gem, with countless parallels to ancient Egypt—the tunic dress; the dry heat relieved by the proximity of water, which still doesn’t make the air humid; the spacious airy home opening out onto a pool and garden; the large white house with white walls, also a reference to the ancient name for Memphis/Cairo “White Wall”; the lavish, almost ritual praise of a lower-ranking woman addressing a noble woman or a queen, referencing her ritual robe or cloak; the Windows of Appearance where, beginning in the 18th Dynasty, pharaoh and his queen showed themselves to the public; reference to working for weeks at a time in the dark, exactly what the artists who painted tombs did for days at a time before returning home for a prolonged rest, their white clothing dirty with rock dust; the tablets they sketched their designs and notes on; reference to “the gods”; the wooden plank leading across, or down, into the tomb’s different chambers; a noble woman or queen inspecting the progress of her tomb. X must have been the artist in charge, ranking above the others, and living in more luxury. X is a real life friend of mine who also loves ancient Egypt.

Inner Balance

Note: I am now waiting up to 7 months before posting my lucid dreams. This means I am always approximately 35 lucid dreams behind.

I’m the only person walking around in a large space. At first I believe it is an auditorium, but then I realize it is, or seems to be, the lead female performer’s home. She is singing lovely, rather folk-like songs as people lie around, perfectly relaxed, listening, while I busy myself making a movie that involves some very specific shots, my camera attached to a black rod. This gives me a reason not to simply be politely listening. When the woman moves from the front to the side of the room where there is a round wooden table, she seems to be more a teacher than a performer. She is speaking in another language, northern European, maybe Dutch, which seems to explain the feel of the place and the crowd—more open and in touch with ancient traditions than typical Americans. This may even be a class on working with the healing energy of sound and music. But it is not until it ends, and people are getting up to leave, that I realize I’m dreaming as I watch the teacher move down the right side of the room toward a curtained stage. The large stage behind a black curtain triggers my lucidity. I immediately feel that I can attempt to heal the stiffness in my left wrist on this stage. I quickly follow the woman, sensing that she is heading backstage through a door, but when I push the curtain aside I see the stage is blocked off by a metal barrier… I suffer a false awakening in which I’m urgently telling someone about my earlier dream of the human hummingbirds, and about another dream of a dark-haired man sitting in my room who rose and moved toward me in a passionate way. Then I see the teacher-singer close the door of her home for the night and quickly get up, crying out to her that I left some of my things on the stage and I need to retrieve them. Her door opens and I run into what is now a large and dim auditorium.

Acid vs. Alkaline

The stage is directly across from me. I want to fly toward it and so I do, re-entering the scene from my previous dream and becoming lucid in one seamless act. I land on the edge the stage a few feet away from a solid male presence occupying its center. Only the bottom half of his figure is illuminated, the rest of him is masked in darkness. I ask suspiciously, “Who are you?” I speak the first two words without a problem but the “you” is oddly clipped. “I’m suspicious of Dream Entities these days,” I explain, and repeat, “Who are you?” He replies, “Keith.” Surprised, I echo, “Keith? I’ve been told to expect Harris.” He then either steps forward, or the lighting changes, because I can see all of him now. His upper body is perfectly square, like a robot’s, a dark-green metal looking box with no head. I observe, “You don’t have a head and yet I can see it.” His handsome human male head is clearly visible to me with its blonde hair. It isn’t attached to the machine but rather “floats” just above it and is much more ethereal, yet also completely real and present.

Keith looks and moves like a regular person as he quickly sits down at a monitor and begins telling me things I need to know, explaining how I can acquire this information. I lean close to him, listening intently to his every word even as I keep looking around me to stabilize the dream. The scenery is that of a workshop with metal tools and containers, the colors red and dark-blue predominating in the form of handles, etc. He says something that sounds like “soya” and then I clearly make out “PBS” which is where I assume I will find a television special on the subject matter he is telling me about which relates to biology and two specific chemicals or chemical reactions. I need to know how these two elements work together; it is important for me… I slowly phase out of the dream into a false awakening, where I repeat to a woman, over and over again, the names of these two chemicals—one begins with or features a “k”—so as not to forget them. I wake for real.

Dream Notes:

I have been reading Secrets of Your Cells by Sondra Barrett and the night-before-last I had dreams that felt very much like being inside my body. I knew Keith was referring to my body and a balance that needed to be maintained. So I Googled “PBS” and “cellular health”. Keith’s message seems clear:

PBS (phosphate buffered saline) is a balanced salt solution commonly used to maintain pH and osmotic balance and provide cells with water and essential inorganic ions. PBS is generally used to maintain cells for the short term in a viable condition while the cells are manipulated outside of their regular growth environment… Cells must constantly maintain their pH in order to function properly. The acidic state of your body is referred to as its pH balance, rather like a swimming pool, and in actual fact, given that our bodies are made of 80% water, it’s quite a good analogy to draw. To have a balanced or neutral pH, your body’s pH level should register 7.4 pH; anything lower than that, and your body environment will be too acidic, and anything above that, it will be too alkaline. Do you remember at school when you used Litmus paper to measure for acidity? If so you’ll probably remember that blue Litmus paper turns red when exposed to acidic solutions, and red Litmus turns blue when exposed to alkaline solutions. It is this same balance of acid or alkaline that is important to your body and its immune system.


To maintain health, the diet should consist of 60% alkaline forming foods and 40% acid forming foods. A true alkalinizing diet is one that optimizes how cells receive nutrition. Once calories flow into cells then cell membranes must respond in order for genes to activate that regulate cellular activity and healthy function. This means you must have healthy cell membranes. You need the fatty acid DHA to make healthy cell membranes. You also need nutrients that specifically contribute to linking the fatty acids like DHA together – which are the phosphates. These are typically built from choline or other phosphate related nutrients. Phosphatidyl Serine is absolute gold as far as your cell membranes are concerned, especially those in your brain (regulating brain pH).


In general, choline intake is linked to dietary fat intake. Fat intake can be overdone, but it can also be underdone which would not be good for your health. Any time pH goes acid then overall cardio-health will be stressed. Eggs are one of the most helpful foods for maintaining cardiovascular health.


Healing Myself in a Humanoid World

October 21, 2013

I believe I’m lying in my lucid dreaming bed in the dark rec room. I feel something jump on the bed with me. Oh, God, it must be the cat bringing me a mouse she caught. But as the presence snuggles close to my right side, I feel my dog’s silky soft fur. As I pet him, I encounter something sharp for an instant, but that’s okay, it’s Arthur, even though I wonder how on earth he managed to get out of his crate. But it seems the cat is also on the bed with me, and maybe even a dead mouse? Groping for it, I seem to find it’s stiff little body and push it off the bed. I don’t remember falling asleep after WBTB. I’m convinced I’m awake, but then I remember my intent to always do a reality check when I sleep in this room. Is Arthur really here? I turn my face to look at him and instead see myself; a faint but clear image of my own face and silvery-gold bangs along with my reclining body in my skimpy nightshirt. This is a dream! Okay, now I can move more freely. I throw off the sheets and sit up. Where the Bay Windows are in reality, across the room on my left, there is just one long window glass showing a daylight scene. I say to my pets, “Let’s go!” and they follow me outside. The glass offers us no resistance.

I am nowhere near my waking reality home. An expansive landscape stretches out beneath, before and above me. I seem to be standing on a brown stone ledge, part of some vast canyon I can’t see an end to. I step off the ledge intending to float, not to fall, and I do so for a few moments before I begin ascending, pulled up and up by that natural lucid force that is the opposite of gravity. I sense my pets still behind me and I don’t want to go too high; I want to study the scene I’m in. (The photo below is a very rough approximation of the shape of the dwellings which were floating in mid air.)

My intent stops my ascent and I begin flying/coasting to the left as I look down. I see a fascinating architecture, very organic, dwellings which appear carved out of the mountain. They strike me as multiple residences, built one on top of the other from a smooth deep-brown stone. They are taller than they are broad and two or three “home levels” adjoin each other while leaving a space of blue sky between each “townhouse” complex. I see it all with that detailed and vivid clarity of lucidity, and it occurs to me I should try to find words to describe it all now I will remember when I wake. What looks like one long off-white and slightly textured, stiff yet also supple “curtain” hangs over and joins all the individual “balcony” facades. These long “window blinds” distinguish each vertical section from the other. I notice small actual windows as well (or what I identify as windows) that are black with glimmering silver borders made of little spheres or metallic beads. Everything looks very organic and yet also somehow futuristic, part of the “canyon” wall yet also appearing suspended in the sky. It occurs to me I am seeing a community in a world much more in harmony with the planet.

I don’t notice the transformation but my pets are now two human companions, both female, who I am very familiar with in the dream space but do not recall from waking reality. It makes sense they are following me, learning from me, as I end up inside one of these dwellings, which is obviously someone’s home. There is a long main area cluttered with an eclectic assortment of furniture that all looks hand-made from natural materials, but there is nothing crude or unsophisticated about each piece, on the contrary. They might be antiques of a sort. Then abruptly I remember my healing intent. I look down at my left wrist just below my thumb. My flesh there is as pale and thin as very fine paper beneath which I see a light yellow mustard colored fluid like puss. I’m surprised because the issue involves my tendon, not an infection. I purposefully retrace my steps, followed by my anonymous friends, and open a drawer in a small dark-blue table I remembered passing. I pull out a small object with a long narrow handle, and a dark silver-gray metal cutting edge in the shape of a double ax with some lines engraved on it that might be ancient writing. The edges of this odd instrument (not a knife, not a letter opener) look like they might not be sharp enough for my purpose, but when I place one side against my skin, it seems to sharpen in response. Without concern for the pain, if there even will be any pain in a lucid dream, I slice open my flesh directly over the problem area, making a vertical incision, and all the yellow puss begins flowing out, painlessly. I return to the back of the room, where I stand over a sink washing out the infection, but there is a lot of yellowish puss coming out. I don’t want to wake up because I’m too focused on dealing with this, so when the flow lets up somewhat, I decide that’s good enough and move to another part of the house.

When the female owner of the residence returns, not at all upset at finding strangers in her home, and begins speaking amiably with my two companions, I am on the other side of the main room, standing on some elevated landing, picking up a communication from a dreamer friend. I can see his distant figure moving through a sunlit space, and I know, of course, it’s morning where he is. He communicates to me that it’s 8:30-9:00. He is doing something. Where he is seems flooded with light. This is a brief but vivid, yet also elusive, broadcast, after which I return to the action of the dream.

I go and stand before the dark-haired pleasantly smiling woman who lives here as she talks to my friends. I think we should leave, so I fly up to a high window, which is only partially ajar, and though I’m confident I can manipulate my dream body over the sharp edge and through the narrow opening, I know my companions won’t find it so easy or pleasant, and they tell me as much. So I relent and follow them into the woman’s bedroom. It is somewhat cluttered but in a rather pleasing and, once again, eclectic fashion. The detail I most clearly remember is a necklace made of some kind of individual dark-red stones carved into a geometric shape with several sides. Everywhere there is the sense of natural materials and deep natural earth tones. My wrist is still open and oozing slightly, so even though I smile to myself at the notion of my dream body needing it, I ask the home owner if she has a band-aid. Almost instantly she has procured and placed a slightly transparent blue-white band-aid over my open wound which covers it even though it is located higher, more over my thumb than my wrist. I very much like the look of it. I move about the room curiously, dividing my attention between the various objects and the face of our remarkably accommodating hostess, conscious of not wanting to focus for too long on anything in order to keep the dream stable. I ask her, “What is this place? I mean, what country, what State?” She replies, as though these terms don’t really mean anything to her, “Well, the International Post Office is nearby, with a clinic attached to it.” She then says something about a virus or illness caused by turtles after they emerged from caves or underground passages where they had been living. At this point I spot a painting, not very good, of a washed out ocean scene. It hangs, unframed, a canvas of gray-whites and faint touches of blue, in an alcove of sorts. I tell my companions, “We’ll go through there!” We bid our hostess farewell and I promptly superman through the canvas, which has the texture of a very thin screen I easily break through. My friends inquire, “Where are we going to get to?” as I begin passing through the back of the painting (there is actually a dark space between the front and the back.) Already seeing air and sky, I reply, “Outside!” And there we are. It is not the ocean scene of the canvas, it is the same organic “canyon” community. I ask one of my student friends, “What was I doing in the house all that time you two were talking to the woman?” One of them replies, “You were asking the woman about her day.” I say urgently, “No, she was asking me about my day, and before that I was doing something else on the other side of the house.” I phase out of the dream.

Dream Notes:

When I woke from this dream, I began exercising my left wrist, moving it in ways I have not been able to move it in weeks. It was easier to ignore the problem than it was when my right wrist exhibited a similar but much worse painful stiffness, full-blown tendinitis. Yet the problem with my left wrist felt like it could become almost as bad if I didn’t deal with it. After the dream, I was able to exercise it and feel the tendon’s stretch and massage it. Now, the following day, I’m using my hand as though nothing is wrong. There is still a stiffness, a slight resistance, and pain if I knock it against something, but I am able to use it normally. It seems the dream healing made it possible for me to exercise the tendon and muscles by reducing the inflammation and pain. I also feel as though the blue-white band-aid placed there by the woman from this alternate world is acting like an advanced form of healing band-aid. We have band-aids that contain a solution to prevent infection. I think this dream band-aid is still releasing a warming, healing energy into the affected area and making my physical therapy possible. If I did not make the effort to use my wrist normally and exercise it every now and then, I do not believe the dream healing would be effective. My dream and my physical body must work together. I also know my wrist is not healed yet, even though it feels stronger and better. I will need to keep working on it as I did on the tendinitis in my right wrist that took a few months, and several lucid dreams, to deal with. Last night was the first important treatment.

A dreaming friend of mine indicated he got the impression that I was not in the future but in a humanoid world in another dimension, or a parallel earth with a different development of civilization. I found this observation remarkably plausible, because the planet resembled earth and yet there was much about it that felt “other”. I always tend to think past-future, but I have, in fact, been places in lucid dreams before that felt like alternate humanoid worlds.

This friend also observed, “At that time when you felt I connected with you, I was writing my e-mail about my first WBTB rec room experience. I live in a house which is flooded with light. It is very bright inside.” It seems I picked up on those moments when he was writing me, and the feel of where he was, loud and clear!

I find the little double ax knife I used to slice my wrist open extremely interesting. It was inscribed with some form of linear writing or symbols I couldn’t make any sense of. It strikes me as something akin to a Minoan artifact. The double ax featured prominently in that culture. If I was in an alternate earth time-line, it seems civilization took a much better, more holistic, earth-friendly turn somewhere along the way.

Quantum Touch, Goddesses & Sex Demon

September 11, 2012
I’m in what feels like a cart riding with Stinger, returning to a city (from the earlier lucid dream?) but at a busy intersection we come to the attention of a police officer, as though we’ve broken some invisible rule. The cop is after me so, already lucid, I rise up into the sky to get away from him. It’s a sunny day and as I go up and up at a leisurely pace, not sure how high up I have to get to shake pursuit, I see blue buildings with gold trim to my left and around me, pretty, terracotta feel, maybe, but still I wonder where the heck they’ll come to an end and I’ll reach open sky. I’ve shaken the law but unfortunately I’ve lost Stinger. I’m alone in this dream city. I descend gradually, and recline across a yellow and orange striped awning for a moment, looking around curiously. The atmosphere is bright, pleasant, and I realize the awning belongs to an ice cream shop! I descend and walk into the shady establishment, intending to fulfill the intent of experimenting with taste in a lucid dream. Happily I ask for chocolate ice cream and the female owner promptly hands me a stick or wand of solid chocolate wreathed with vanilla ice cream staying put in defiance of gravity. Okay, this will do! I walk out licking it and can definitely taste it but the experience is not as vivid and sensual as in waking reality.

I don’t remember how I end up in a small, shadowy classroom surrounded by other women and facing our female instructor. She’s asking if anyone can tell her the nature or meaning of the double female deity Atem and Atheim. I somehow know they are the two principle goddesses of the city I was just in with the blue buildings. I can see in my mind’s eye two ancient looking terracotta or stone figurines, simply carved, a little stiff, a tan-gold-brown color, with Atem on the left and right next to her Atheim, two separate figures but really one goddess. I know the answer and am eager to give it and my knowing is somehow related to my lucidity; the other women look absolutely clueless. The instructor lets me give the answer: “It’s about one, a person who, through the physical body (Atem), accesses the divine (Atheim).” I know there’s no other way, that Atheim and Atem are a process of consciousness, that without going through Atem, Atheim cannot be attained or realized. The instructor tells the class, “That’s the best definition of Atem and Atheim I’ve ever heard” and counsels everyone to remember it.

I’m in a cart riding with Stinger again telling him about Atem and Atheim and he gets really upset with me, moving up to the front of the cart, tears in his eyes, because I believe he doesn’t understand; that I don’t give him credit for also knowing the meaning. I realize he’s right, that because he’s a scientist I don’t give him enough credit for comprehending-feeling mystical truth.

I’m inside a building, in a narrow room or corridor, sitting and talking to a woman, maybe Mami. I’m perfectly lucid. I know this dream has gone on for a long time so there will probably be holes in the action when I try to remember it in waking reality, but that’s a small price to pay for how wonderful it is to be so lucid for so long. I can’t remember what we were talking about, unfortunately. I notice a stray brown dog approaching along the white corridor and decide to go (back) to the more open area beyond it. I pick up two cow tendon chew bones and open the door. Mami follows me. The room is large, with a slightly elevated area to the right looking down on the rest of the space, and yet it’s all white, hard to describe, as though it really has no fixed dimensions. There are more women there and also a whole pack of those small stray brown feral-looking dogs. I find it amusing we left our private corridor because of two dogs only to be surrounded by them. One latches onto my arm as I hand out the two chew bones, which aren’t enough, of course, but I’m not in the least bit afraid.

Shaking my arm free, I rise calmly into the air and hover above the pack. Idly, I point my right index finger at one dog and intend a glimmering ray of offensive energy toward it, which works in that the creature appears affected by it and backs off slightly, but suddenly I know that’s not the right approach, not what I truly want to do. I take a deep breath beginning in my belly and rising up to the base of my throat, practicing the breathing technique of Quantum Touch. I do this three times feeling myself filling up with an energy I see as a blue “force” rising up into me and flowing down into the palms of my hands that are already warm; I distinctly feel how warm my palms are. Holding my hands palm down I “broadcast” a blue-white-shimmering-light-energy down at the dogs and everyone in the room. Of course it doesn’t hurt the animals or the people, on the contrary; they’re all “bathing” in it happily. I do it again, and again, thrilled with the act of spreading healing energy freely over everyone because, of course, there’s no end to it as its flow so freely through me. I have to remind myself to direct a little of it back into my own body even though it doesn’t feel necessary; I’m already filled with it.

I return to the other smaller space. I’m feeling aroused. Standing in the center of the room, I ask for the lead singer of Filter, as he was in his prime, careful to be as detailed as possible in my conjuration. I’m intending him to take form there before me, dressed all in black. “Are you there?” I ask even as I don’t see anything but I can seem to feel him. I lean against a window and imagine being taken from behind. There is pleasure and sensation but it’s all too much my imagination. Then I look at the reflection and behind me discern a coalescing darkness, a silhouette forming. I’m thrilled my conjuration appears to be working! Then I distinctly feel something grip my right hip, a real sensation as opposed to the ones I was imagining. My elation is short lived as it occurs to me that I invited a shady character into my dream; gave a hostile force an opening by selfishly attempting to fashion a dream lover. Sure enough, I appear to be in the grips of a black “demon” with a young man’s handsome face but black tentacles that are growing in definition and strength. There seems no way to escape the encroaching darkness trapping me in it but I remain perfectly calm. I look the thing in the face and say, “I could wake up now” (as a means of escape) “but I’m proving a point here.” I fill myself with the blue-white energy of Quantum Touch and it effortlessly rids me of the clinging, threatening blackness. It stumbles weakly away in the form of a brown-skinned man who appears stunned. “Get out of here,” I command. “Go on, out with you!” We’re standing next to a window, but he can’t seem to coordinate his limbs so I raise the window and, with a bit of effort, hoist him out of the room. Watching him fall several stories and hit the pavement, I wonder if his physical body died in waking reality when his dream form made impact. I hope not, and think it probably didn’t.

Still in a room of that place. Mami or some other woman asks me what time my plane leaves for Paris and abruptly I realize I’ve been having so much fun thinking about everything I’ve done in my lucid dreams, how meaningful it all is, that I barely have time to make it to the airport in time. My plane leaves at 6:00 and it’s already 5:20! I run out of there, encountering odd vehicles directly outside the building, none of which is the cab I seek. I end up sitting on a bench waiting for a cab until I wake.

Dream Note: This dream speaks for itself. Awesome. And, of course, I live in Paris, Virginia. I seemed to have been sensing it was time to wake up. Maybe if I’d deliberately woken myself up sooner, I would have remembered a few more sections of this incredibly long lucid dream.

Sun & Moon Healing

September 1, 2012
Note: Around 5:30, got up and lit the candle in my study. Full moon but overcast. Back in bed experienced several hypnogogic sessions, maybe as many as 7, before falling asleep. It was about 6:50 when I woke from the lucid dream.

I find myself in a room with Stinger. I’m standing beside a long window through which I see a huge horse. I get the sense it’s one of two hitched to an old-fashioned wagon or carriage, but I’m looking at this one spectacularly big horse. I step closer to the window and say excitedly to Stinger, “Can you see that? Can you see that horse?” because it’s an unusual sight and already I suspect it might not really be there. I’m happy when (silently) he confirms that he can see it. The horse’s body is unusually large and full and as I gaze at in fascination I realize “out loud”, “This is a dream! We’re in a dream, Stinger!” I don’t sense confirmation of lucidity from him as I turn back into the room.

The lighting is dim, black-and-white in feel, and I know it relates to my level of lucidity. No problem, I tell myself I’ll remain calm as I practice the deepening technique of patting my upper body while also looking around me. I tell Stinger that I wish he could be with me in this lucid dream. I can see fixtures of the white-walled space that have a hand-crafted black wrought iron look and feel to them. (Stinger and I had been talking about his father’s work yesterday evening.) I have no doubt I will deepen and maintain lucidity and looking out another window, I see the moon, small and high in the sky but looking full as I know it is in waking reality. At once I remember my intent; remembering is a seamless moment of doing as I reach up and “capture” the moon between the tips of my thumb and forefinger and bring it down to my lips like a pill glowing with good health and vitality. I make the gesture of swallowing it without feeling it enter my mouth and go down my throat; the intent and gesture are enough.

I look down, intent now on pushing my house pants down to expose the small area of Tenia Discolor for which I incubated a healing lucid dream. It’s curiously difficult to do so and, as I’m struggling with my clothing, I look up and see the moon again moving swiftly across the dusky blue sky. I reach up for it again but it’s moving too fast. It doesn’t matter, I already fulfilled that intent, and now suddenly I see the sun, high above me at the sky’s zenith, small and bright and yet I’m able to look directly at it. The sun! I’m honored by its encouraging presence as the dream brightens around me and I see blue daylight sky outside and beyond the windows. I understand the sun relates to my level of lucidity, and yet it’s much more than that; it’s purely wonderful to have it there.

At last I succeed in pushing my pants down far enough to expose, in the dimness of the place in the room where I am, the discoloration at the top of the inside of my left thigh. Yes, I see a dark blotch on my skin and I hold my hand over it, taking a deep breath beginning down inside me and exhaling down through my arms into my hands, practicing Quantum Touch as the sun looks down on me and I glance up at its visible light. Immediately, I see the dark blotch dissolving as one infinitely tiny point after another vanishes beneath my healing intent. This all happens very quickly.

I’m moving now, reclining as I travel east to west at a sedate, steady pace. The room is left behind as I see a building in front of me and sense that I’m outside. All this time I keep my right hand hovering above the area of my thigh I’m attempting to heal, but the pleasure of this rushing motion, and of still seeing the sun above me accompanying me, takes precedence. I become aware of being aroused and move my hips back and forth against a firm bundle of clothes or bedsheets. Sexual pleasure rises without effort and I stop moving, thinking No, I’ll wake up. I’m moving a little faster now, and looking to my left I see orange metal barricades. I’m on a collision coarse, I’m going to hit that barricade at a high speed, and I can’t wait. Part of me experiences a thrill knowing that in waking reality what’s about to happen would be bad, but in a lucid dream, impacts are intensely pleasurable. I slam into it and go through it and all that happens is that I experience a pure, stimulating, profoundly arousing pleasure more akin to happiness than a physical sensation. I seem to be in a large warehouse-workshop full of construction materials, tables, tools, boxes of nails, etc. ostensibly the worse possible place to be “riding” out of control on a lucid roller-coaster as I slam into one table and am propelled toward another, and another. In waking reality I would have suffered a horrible, bloody mutilating and death, in the dream I’m having so much fun! Every collision feels better and better as they ostensibly become worse and worse. Inevitably, after one of them I phase out of the dream and wake up in bed.

Dream Notes: A horse for me represents my physical body. I’m glad to have seen such a big healthy horse. The fact that it’s harnessed to an old-fashioned cart seems to symbolize how I’m still tied to old ways of thinking about my physical health and how much power I have to heal myself. I practiced, if only briefly, what I’ve learned so far about Quantum Touch. The next day, I touched the discoloration and it began flaking away beneath my fingertips in tiny little particles. I believe the lotion I was using burned my skin and peeled off a layer of it, but the fact is that a few days later, the discolor was completely gone. Perhaps my inner self understood there was no real issue and hence didn’t concentrate on the healing as I normally do in a lucid healing dream.

Healing Hippopotamus Blood

May 19, 2011
Dream last night of driving with X, taking a sharp right onto an expressway where pollution reduced visibility to dangerously low levels and, as we progressed, there was no visibility at all yet I was driving as fast as if I could see clearly. I asked X if she could see the sign for Natchez but she wasn’t any help. I made myself slow down, flooring the breaks, but it took a while and I was amazed we ended up on the grassy right side of the road without crashing into anything. Nevertheless, we appeared to be at the scene of an accident and the policeman said something to me. He reached into the car and with his thumb touched two spots on my face. I asked him, “Do I have to stay?” and apparently the answer was “yes” because the next thing I knew X and I were sitting inside in some kind of cafeteria, part of a detention area. The same police officer paused at our table. Smiling, he said something to me. Once again, he touched a spot on my face with his thumb, explaining that what I needed to feel better  was “Hippopotamus blood.” As he walked away, I remarked to X, “I have to admit, he’s hot, and I’m not even attracted to cops anymore.”

Dream Notes: In ancient Egypt, the female Hippo was regarded as a protective force. When the police officer dabbed “Hippopotamus blood” on my face, was he imparting a protective, healing energy to the dark spots in my energy field caused by all the negativity unleashed upon me by X in waking reality? The name of the Hippo goddess Ipet means Mistress of Magical Protection. One of my guides came to me in the form of a traffic cop and sent healing energy into my drained psyche to help me recover from the trauma of X’s insults, which left me feeling emotionally wrecked.