May 12, 2012
Note: I don’t remember what exactly was happening when I became lucid, but it was a slow, seamless transition, I sort of willed it. I think I sensed my sleeping body, and that it might wake up at any moment, and thought, No, I’m going to keep going in this dream. I made myself lucid and from the start I was so well grounded in the dream, I hardly bothered with deepening or sustaining techniques.
Fully lucid walking throw a plain, empty room toward a large window. I extend my hands toward it, intending to go through it, but instead I simply peel it off, like a large piece of very thin plastic which offers no resistance. Once outside, on an empty city street at night or late dusk, I begin rising up into the sky. It’s overcast, I can see the moon and fulfill my intent to pluck it out of the sky and swallow it like a glowing pill of health and healing. What’s astonishing to me is the warmth; I distinctly feel warmth emanating from the dream ahead of me as I’m flying toward it, and I’m conscious of the fact that it’s very odd, very special, to feel a distinct sensation of warmth in a dream. I raise my right hand to my face and direct a healing energy toward my gums, part of a waking intent to practice periodontal maintenance in lucid dreams. I see those faint blue tiny healing sparks emanating from my index finger, but I don’t keep at it because I’m currently on antibiotics and there’s no danger of another nerve infection for the time being. I direct this energy to contribute to my overall health and well-being.
I drift eastward and find myself flying low over some sort of garden party. I see young women and little girls all wearing long white dresses. I gaze curiously down at the outdoor gathering, flying almost parallel to the ground but gradually gaining altitude. One little girl is aware of me and we keep looking at each other. I’m somewhat surprised when she reaches up toward me and then actually leaves the ground. Smiling, I grasp her hand and she joins me in my leisurely cruise through the air. She’s not only wearing white, she is entirely white, or so I remember her, like a ghost yet perfectly solid and seemingly happy. Her dress strikes me as old-fashioned and I ask her, “Where is this?” then more specifically, “What year is this?” And she replies slowly, “This is the year that God made.” I’m enchanted by her response and say, “Well, that’s the best year ever, isn’t it.”
I notice a few other figures floating around us now, people of all ages; I see an infant, a very old woman, every stage of life represented. One of them, a man wearing an old-fashioned suit that strikes me as Victorian, comes very close to me. I ask him, “Where is this place?” and he replies, “This is the Mea Culpa gathering.” I somehow understand, abruptly, that all these people are dead and waiting here for something (I get a flash of a luminous healing-Being of light, Christ-like) while atoning for and facing some major issue for which they (rightly?) blame themselves. I’m surprised that even (supposedly) innocent babies find themselves here. However, the man is getting a little too close to me, almost as though he wants to look up between my legs, and I decide it’s time to move on.
At the same time I move away I find myself walking through a large house which is still ostensibly part of the Mea Culpa gathering. I head determinedly down a narrow corridor in what I sense is the direction of the rear of the house searching for the back door. I find one in a small, narrow kitchen where a woman stands cooking at the stove. The door opens inward, and I gently shove two trash cans out of the way with it as I think-say with satisfaction, “There’s always a back door.” I encounter what I can only describe as a patio annex crowded with wooden furniture, knickknacks and blinds of sorts. I lift them out of my way as I step carefully over the barrier, only slightly disturbing one or two objects while thinking-saying, “I’d better be careful not to damage anything or I might end up in one of these Mea Culpa gatherings” actually making a joke, perhaps the first time I’ve ever done that in a lucid dream.
I find myself outside at night in a stark black and white city, empty feeling, as though the section I’m in is a warehouse district, porous, old concrete, no street lights. Walking westward along a sidewalk even though there are no cars, nothing, I “remember” another intent, and cry, “Hapuseneb*, I love you! I love you, Hapuseneb, and one night I hope to see you and talk to you again in a dream.” I sink to my knees, clasping my hands, to show him how much I respect him and am thankful for his presence in my dreams, showing reverence, as was my intent, repeating, “I love you!” Then suddenly, streaming south-east from the black northern sky, appear a series of banner-like rectangles containing glimmering silver-white words written in a clean print font as though typed in starlight. The “banners” are flying swiftly over me and I can almost read the few words they contain, almost, but not quite. I think they say, I’m almost sure I distinguish the words I am here but I really don’t know! I keep looking up at them as they soar by but the more I try and read them the less I’m able to even though I’ve flown up to a roof top to get closer to them. Then abruptly some of them begin flying back toward me and I catch hold of one, but now it’s like a clear shining “pouch” containing white lingerie, bras and panties made of a glittering, pure and luminous material. It makes no sense to me at all, and I’m disappointed. It almost seems like Hapuseneb is teasing me.
Back down on the street, there are some people milling around me now that it’s daylight. I think, “I’m going to travel. I’m going to get out of here but I’m not going to walk or fly, I’m going to “fast travel” to Egypt. I close my eyes and command, “Take me to Egypt. Take me to Egypt. Clarity now. Clarity now.” I was concerned that once I closed my eyes I might wake up, but I’m determined to fulfill this long-standing intent and feel solidly rooted in the dream, absolutely centered and lucid as I pat the front of my body without really needing to. Repeating, “Take me to Egypt” I spin around once and briefly open my eyes. I’m still on the city street so I try it again and this time when I open my eyes I’m somewhere else. I see soft green land blended with soft browns, nature all around me, and far far away to the north I see, beyond mountainous hills, the vague shapes of a place I know is Egypt! I know the pyramids are there, I can feel them! I want to get closer but I don’t want to take the time to try and fly there, during which I risk waking up and even though it’s also a risk, or so I think, I attempt to fast travel again. “Take me closer! Take me there faster! Clarity now! Take me to Egypt.”
I open my eyes and to the north-east, very close to me, I see a river delta. I’m on the ground and yet my view is somehow slightly from above all at once. I wonder, intensely excited and almost certain of it, if I’m in the Nile delta! Then to the north I see what seems to be the ocean and to the west, stretching for a long way on the shore, I see a beautiful, elegant resort fronted by a terrace occupied by comfortable reclining chairs and tables, many of them occupied. I recall the colors orange and white and think, “I must be in Alexandria!” I walk along the terrace toward a building and see a woman sitting in a chair against the side wall. I walk right up to her and get her attention by asking her, “What country is this?” She looks at me like I’m crazy, which I can understand, but she replies with what sounds to me like, “Ugea.” I want to ask her more but she cringes in on herself, not looking at me, so I keep walking. There are other women sitting in chairs along the front of the building (as though on the deck of a ship) and very casually I ask one of them, as if in passing, “This is Ugea, right?” She replies that it is, giving me a funny look, but I keep walking and enter the building into what is apparently the reception area.
It’s busy inside but I go directly up to the counter and ask the woman behind it, dark-haired and slender, “Do you have a map I can look at?” She hands me a map and at first glance I see it is, indeed, a map of Africa, but very light, the country’s borders not clearly defined and their names almost looking written in pencil; I really can’t focus on it enough to make sense of it. I ask the woman, “Do you know where you Ugea is on this map?” She points to a country that’s to the west of Egypt and I realize I’m still on my way there. Excited, I say to her, “This is a beautiful resort. Do you get a lot of people stopping here on their way to Egypt?” She looks at me a little funny but she seems to say “anything is possible.” I thank her, and as I’m walking out the door she calls after me, “Is there any chance this will be written up in the world?” I reply, smiling, “Maybe.” Walking alone, I’m pretty pleased with myself for asking dream characters questions, and that’s when I phase slowly back into my body.
Dream Note: It seems obvious the country was Algeria, as though the dream character replied “You’re in Algeria” and I compressed it into “Ugia.” I Googled photos of coastal resorts and recognized the dream location as the Dalyan Delta. I was sure I was in a Delta and yet also on the ocean, and this place indeed exists in Algeria, which is apparently renowned for its beautiful coastal resorts the Google images verify. I wonder if the dream character meant the world of waking reality.