March 26, 2012
Note: Did the surfer technique and saw some hypnagogic imagery, including a statuesque Whispers (our cat) perched on a portal-pedestal of sorts.
I’m in a car, preparing to get out, when a man in a dark suit slips into the front seat. I’m relieved to see it’s not a threatening stranger but X (real name withheld to protect his privacy.) His suit is pitch-black and velvety, textured, so it appears to me, and his bowler hat is antique-looking. Without actions or speech, he’s very insistent on remaining in the car, he needs to, but I want to get out and I take the keys with me. It’s my car and I have something to do. I think perhaps Mami is in another vehicle and I walk up to her, but I can’t concentrate on my purpose because X is in my car and wanting to turn on the radio, needing to. I walk back and say something like, “Well, I can’t very well toss you my keys through the windshield, can I?” But even as I “say” this I realize there really isn’t a glass in my way, and stubbornly I smack the air to pretend there is a barrier. I hand him the keys before turning back to what I was doing thinking naturally there isn’t a barrier because this is a dream…
I don’t remember the transition to the interior of a store, quaint feel, like a place that sells postcards and writing supplies. X, still in his black Film Noir suit, is standing at the register purchasing something. I’m not sure, but I think I tell him to follow me or meet me upstairs, and he does, because next thing I know, I’m fully lucid where I’m sitting in front of him at the back of the room. There are other people there, it’s sort of like a living area above the shop, but I’m concentrating exclusively on my purpose, which is to heal him. I am acutely lucid. I clearly see my hands (there are windows that let in sunlight) and consider how best to go about my intent. At once I recall doing Reiki in the dream where I healed Stinger’s blood clot and understand this is the proper way to proceed. Holding my hands facing each other, and leaving a few inches of space between them, I raise them before me and silently request healing energy flow (down) into them. At once, I feel an answering warmth growing cradled between my palms. I’m so happy at how quickly the universe responds and intensely lucid, distinctly aware of this very real warmth. Almost immediately, tiny squares of jewel-like multicolored lights become visible, generated by my palms. They are so beautiful! They shine, sparkle, glow, every adjective you can think of, and are much more lovely and potent-looking than the sparkles of violet light I used to heal my tendinitis. I know what I need to do with them. I lean toward X and place my hands on either side of his head, just barely touching him. He’s not wearing the old-fashioned black hat anymore (I may have told him to remove it or removed it myself.) He seems skittish, squirmy, but I somehow make it clear to him that he needs to let me do this. I’m using these lights to stimulate the electrical synapses in his brain, because they mysteriously correspond to them. The lights aren’t computer chips, they aren’t electricity, they’re a living energy I caress over X’s brain and I can feel them falling into place over his synapses like a map stimulating, while also perhaps “rewiring” or strengthening, even forging “relationships” between some of them. Nearly impossible to describe. I somehow know when to stop, and briefly caress his chest, which again recoils slightly as I sit back, telling him, “I love you” understanding it was his brain I needed to concentrate on, not his body.
I may have done all I can, in this dream, for X, and now I head toward Mami, sitting toward the back of the room. It’s a little darker here and I make myself comfortable before her, cross-legged, as I hold my hands up before me, palms facing each other, to call down healing energy, only this time nothing happens. Mami is even more skittish than X, wanting to know what I’m doing. She’s wearing a blue, long-sleeved shirt and, leaning over her, I tell her I’m there to heal her. “I’m visiting you in a dream, Mami. Where is your discomfort?” But I know it’s in her intestines, and even though there’s no healing energy emanating from my hands, I pass them over her stomach and move down. “There’s nothing really wrong with you,” I conclude, realizing that the Reiki didn’t work because there was no need.
It’s time to move on! I look around and feel the desire I always experience in a lucid dream to escape the confines of an enclosed space and get outside. I walk down a corridor with other people, searching for the exit. I don’t even think about doing deepening techniques; I’m perfectly lucid and deep in the dream. I have my eye on a man and his companion, who I sense are leading me to the exit, and as I follow them, attracted to him, thinking-feeling how sexy he is, I remember other men in lucid dreams I’ve responded to in this way, which brings me to a sense of awe and wonder, looking around me at the crowd of people I’m part of, at how many people there are and yet how each individual is a unique, beautiful creation. Each and every person is a whole universe of unimaginable forces come together even though the power of attraction is more strong with some for me, perhaps because we’re related in the sense that how we were created is related. It’s not really possible to find the right words for what I felt-knew. I believe I’m outside, walking down the street with the man and his friend slightly ahead of me on the right. I think about Waggoner’s description of beautiful women in his lucid dreams and wonder, “What about men?” For me it’s all about handsome, sexy men, not women, and I think about pointing this out in waking life.
Then I forget about the man when I realize I’m still inside! The building is so vast, I thought I was out on a sidewalk. “No way!” I think-say, meaning I have no intention of remaining trapped inside and waking up in frustration. I enter a large open space with a really high ceiling that’s an odd cross between a Cathedral and an office building. The ceiling is arched and a blue-white. “There will be is a hole in the ceiling through which I can fly!” I command in my mind, and there it is! Effortless. I soar up toward it and pass through it, only to find myself in a similar space with another ceiling I spy a hole in. Okay, I wasn’t specific enough. “There will be a hole through which I can fly outside, to open sky!” but the hole was already there before I realized my mistake, and even so it’s such a joy to experience flight, the sensation and freedom of it. Now I spot a western-facing door below me. I fly down to it determined not to obey any barriers in this dream, and I go right through it because I’ve learned, once and for all, that the apparent solidity of material substances in a dream is only an illusion, a product of bringing the rules of the physical world with me. I pass effortlessly through the door, and then to the north-east I spot a revolving glass door, yet another apparent barrier to freedom, but through the glass wall it’s a part of I glimpse the ocean! I’m overjoyed and I rush/fly right through the door, on the heels of two people passing through it and with whom I collide in an awkward fashion. But instead of flying off, I decide to simply perch on their heads, and I’m very amused by the sensation of standing as they keep walking, untroubled by my presence. “Now this is something (else) I’ve never done in a lucid dream before.” I’m amused and pleased.
I think I’m heading for the ocean, but it’s only a river I come to, not very broad and brown, murky, as though polluted. I stand on the shore, disappointed but also taking a detached attitude because what’s important is how lucid I am and continuing with the dream. The water is rushing eastward and I decide to fly over it and follow it to the ocean. As I do so, I consider traveling to the moon, as I requested to do in my previous lucid dream. In waking life, I’ve been thinking the moon would be a great place to establish a healing center, a place where I can learn about and perform lucid healings, but I’ve already done that in this dream and I decide it feels too far away so I keep flying over the river. At some point, I’m going through a wall and stepping over some barrier, wondering at how present I am in the dream, how effortlessly lucid, and thinking not bad for a relatively inexperienced lucid dreamer even as I realize that’s not true and that I’m perhaps one of the most skilled lucid dreamers there are at this point in time.
I somehow end up in a residential building on the shore of the river, standing in front of a door and a woman holding a suitcase who lives there. I have the distinct thought-feeling that lucid dreams aren’t meant to be personal hedonistic adventures but rather that they’re intended for service and I know that for me that means healing people, and I’m ready to find someone who needs me. This woman is looking at me, her expression full of curiosity tinged with confusion, as if she doesn’t quite know how I got there or who I am, and I think I must be out of body and she’s seeing me. I ask her, “How do you feel?” wondering if she might need my assistance, but she seems fine, and even as I turn to head back down the stairs, I wake up in bed.
I’m absolutely sure that I’m awake as I get up, searching for my red robe, intending to slip it on and walk into my study to write my dream down, anxious not to wake Arthur up in the process where he’s curled up asleep in his crate next to the bed. But in my office, I somehow end up with a pair of J’s pants. I go to put them back and suddenly I’m sitting at the dining table with Stinger across from me and we’re having breakfast. I tell him I just had one of the longest, if not the longest, lucid dream of my life, that it lasted (according to the digital clock I looked at when I woke up, moving pillows out of my way and grumbling that we really need to keep the clock more visible) a good part of an hour, if not more. “I haven’t had such a long lucid dream since the one I had with Papi last year Easter Sunday,” declare. “I feel fantastic,” I am indeed full of energy and well being, “like I just did some incredible, wonderful drug.” Then I add, “Can you do me a favor please and walk Arthur this morning? I really need to write my dream down before I go to work.” I know I’m going to have a big, important day at the office, and I’m more than ready to handle it (in reality I work at home.) Stinger says he will and suddenly I phase out of the dream and wake up for real, clearly remembering the lucid dream even while wondering at how real the false awakening felt.