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.

Lunar Healing – Night 1

Note: I am now waiting up to 5 months before posting my lucid dreams. This means I am always approximately 25 lucid dreams behind.

November 11, 2013 – First Quarter Moon

Poem of Intent written the day before:

Lunar Healing Pool

I envision a personal pool outside time and the rec room
framed now with bricks instead of Egyptian limestone
an ardent spring of universes in its self-contained depths

Rising from the bed and brain in which I’m lucid dreaming
I’ll glide through the glass door to this pool of my imagining
and submerge my ageless body in its womb of darkness

A Divine life force reflected with intent by the moon of my mind
flowing into the creative channeling of my present physical form
will convey transcendent signals to my cells to right all wrongs

Surfing HI (hypnagogic imagery) between 3:30 and 5:00. After the first wave, I’m plunged into a mini-dream that seems to begin inside a dark church. Just outside it sits a cart (like the kind in the Middle Ages used to haul away the corpses of poor plague victims) with the single body of a man lying in it. I fling myself upon it, crying out my grief, in that instant merging with this young woman. Then I’m a disembodied awareness observing a man in the church peering out through a large keyhole at this woman as he realizes that she really did love his now dead son… I return to my own awareness in the gray-white limbo between waking and sleeping.


I ride the next HI into a WILD by listening attentively to the voice of a woman striving to communicate with me through the speaker I keep next to my lucid dreaming bed. I can hear her voice distinctly and “move” my attention toward it, able to grasp most of what she is saying. I am fully aware that listening to her is pulling me into a dream, as is the chaos of her little girl throwing a tantrum in the background. The sounds are completely real, and I get the feeling they’re broadcasting from as far away as Australia? I become aware of lying on a dream bed floating a few feet off the floor and moving in a circular clock-wise direction, sort of like a flying carpet taking off. I can see a room below me, colorless but distinct, furnished differently from the rec room, but I am confident I can “turn it into” the rec room as I look down on while sitting up. But then I lay back down again thinking it might be too soon. I repeat this action at least twice before making an effort to rise off the bed and walk into the scene, but the dream current reverses direction and I “land” on the shore between waking and sleeping.

Soon after, I become aware of working in the kitchen. I pull a small casserole out of the oven filled with baking spinach, just in time; it looks perfect. I transfer the spinach into a cast iron skillet to finish cooking it but notice a black string lying in the pan, and also that the kitchen is dark… Wait a minuteI must be dreaming. At once I walk out into the living room, which is not as dark; the house is lit as though by a dim ambient moonlight washing out all colors. It is my real house, and in my eagerness to see if the healing pool I envisioned is out in the courtyard, I fly into the rec room even though I know I risk destabilizing the dream by not walking instead. I fly over my lucid dreaming bed and intend to pass right through the glass door as I described myself doing in my Poem of Intent. The glass doesn’t really present a barrier but it takes a few seconds, and through the green curtain, as I pass through it, I see the pool, very close to where I imagined it would be but at a different angle, vertical to my perspective instead of horizontal. I see it clearly in a pale illumination akin to moonlight. It is the size of a narrow bathtub and lined with a white stone border. The whole courtyard is moon-white. As I float outside, I lose sight of the pool as I look down at a naked woman sitting parallel to the pool’s top edge, her legs slightly bent and her arms stretched out behind her in a pose people often adopt at the beach while sunbathing, only she is moon-bathing. There is something crude-looking about her profile but she is obviously me, some approximation of my “grosser” physical body, as opposed my light dream body floating just above it. Then once again the dream’s gravity catches me like a breaking wave and hauls me back to that shore between sleeping and waking.

Riding more HI, I am “plunged” into a dream scene where a man is aware of my efforts to WILD and is mysteriously assisting me. He tells me he is monitoring my blood pressure. As he helps me lie face down again on a narrow bed, I say, “Well, you know it’s going to skyrocket. That’s just how it is.” I distinctly feel one of his hands resting on my left leg as I sink back into HI, which soon resolves into a WILD again. I’m walking through my dark house into a bathroom that is across the hall from where it really is, like a reflection. The door is open onto the corridor, and I grip the left side of the frame to grab hold of the dream scene. I clearly see my hands, flesh-toned in the dimness. Yes, my hands… I should keep sight of them to ground me in the dream. I turn left and touch the wall as I deliberately walk, not fly, down to the end of the corridor, where I grip the edge of the wall. I make it almost all the way to rec room before I lose the dream, again.

Riding more HI, I find myself lying in bed. I get up to use the bathroom, but when I flip the light switch up nothing happens. Oh my God, reality check… this time I actually catch this recurring dream sign. I’m dreaming. I walk back out into a room that is a cross between my living room and a slightly larger public room. I lose almost all visuals, but I have already seen some people milling around so I reach out and ask with polite urgency, “Does anyone know how I can get some visuals?” I repeat this request several times as I walk around, and every time I ask this question, I see a little more of my environment in the form of distinct colors, first in a face and then in the electronic device a woman sitting at a small bar is holding on which are displayed red and yellow colors. I move over to the bar and, grabbing hold of it, I am almost completely present in the dream. A short older female bartender with cropped blonde hair walks up to me, and takes my hands for a moment in response to my query. She is very nice and I feel more present in the dream the longer I interact with her. When I ask my question again, she says, “Have you touched any objects sacred to us?” I regret to have to answer, “No” because I don’t think I have. Once again, I lose the dream.

At some indeterminate point in my HI surfing there occurred a distinct but hard to describe lucid experience. I am lying face down but instead of a bed beneath me there is what feels like a “portal” into another reality or world, and a woman facing “up” toward me is trying to pull me into it; trying to get me to join her there. Our dialogue purely telepathic, I receive images of disease, hardship, environmental poisoning, and I hastily inform her that I live up in the mountains, where conditions are still good. She replies that I am referring to my current reality but that in her world, which I am also inhabiting at the same time in a kind of parallel universe, the conditions are extremely harsh. Though I know she is right, I am intensely reluctant to immerse myself in an existence which is a negative reflection, the exact opposite, of the life I am fully conscious of now as Maria Isabel Pita.

Dream Notes:

I have never deliberately imagined and succeeded in “conjuring” a specific dream scene before, one that is a combination of my waking reality and my imagination. I am very excited that I succeeded in manifesting the moonlit healing pool I envisioned, and even saw what appeared to be my physical body sitting next to it, as though waiting for my dream body to arrive and perform the healing ritual I described in my Poem of Intent. On my first attempt, in a night of WILDS all interesting in their own way, like seeds of what’s to come. It is interesting to note that the pool was in the same spot and position where I often park my car, my physical vehicle. It was also right next to Stinger’s workshop, which also makes sense, since in these dreams I want to work on my physical body. Especially fascinating is that my waking self conceived of this pool and its purpose, and my dreaming self brought it forth but made some seemingly minor changes that are, in fact, symbolically relevant. This is the most consciously I have integrated my waking self and my dreaming self, and it is quite an exciting partnership! There seems no end to what this greater “I” can do.

The dreams were short but there was an intriguing recurring element that was not symbolic but quite literal:

  • the woman communicating with me through a speaker and pulling me into the dream space
  • the man helping me WILD and monitoring my blood pressure pressing my leg to root me in a dream
  • the bartender who took my hand to help me with visuals and asked about the sacred objects

All these dream entities seemed intent on helping me. I am learning to surf HI and to WILD on a more regular basis. Until recently, most of my lucid dreams were DILDs. If I can succeed in mastering WILDs, I feel I will have more success with manifesting intended locations and scenarios, so it’s important. And thrilling to be able to do it without any supplements at all.