Castle Dragon

Note: I deliberately wait over a year before posting my lucid dreams, in chronological order.

Dream of March 21, 2015

I spend most of the night dreaming of my old friend, Cookie, and consequently thinking about her, and other things, in between dreams.

Asleep again, I’m in a dark old apartment, waiting, and finally Cookie arrives; I was afraid she wouldn’t come. She and I are both in our early twenties again physically, and she has on a blue jacket. She tells me she’s leaving today but wanted to say good bye. Out on my landing, a young dark-haired man is waiting. I take Cookie aside and hug her fervently, so sad she can never stay longer. She returns my embrace, then starts down the steps of what now is a subway station. Suddenly feeling really stoned, I follow more slowly, already having lost sight of her. I’m not at all sure I can manage being out in the world right now, because I am very stoned. I will have to concentrate on just the simple tasks, but I don’t turn back to my empty apartment. On the bottom floor, I see the glass doors of an exit leading out to a sunny day. Some women are standing in front of it, but I have eyes only for the bright golden coin lying on the floor between them, about the size of a U.S. quarter made of solid gold and reflecting the sunlight where it lies right in front of the glass doors. I quickly walk over and pick up this gift of a lucid dream, for I know that’s what this coin represents—a little reward for having immersed myself in love all night, for daring to love even though it can be difficult and painful sometimes.

Picking up the bright golden coin and becoming fully lucid, I open the glass doors and step into a great foyer with a high ceiling. In a semi-circle around me are three tall broad archways, through which I see different sunlit spaces which at first seem to lead outside, but as I approach the one on the left, I realize it’s an indoor scene, albeit very spacious and flooded with sunlight. Well, one of them may be interesting.

I choose the archway on my right, and enter a great dining hall of sorts full of long tables with white cloths set in spacious rows. There are many people sitting at the tables conversing as much as eating. Like the other chambers, this one is part of a great structure. I walk around, curiously studying my surroundings and the animated smiling faces of the people, before pausing at a table where a man of middle years with dark hair is sitting by himself on one side of the table, and not engaged in conversation with the women across from him. He has pale skin and, unlike everyone else, a self-centered, moody preoccupied expression.

Walking up to the man, I ask, “What are you thinking?” Without looking up at me, he either replies, or continues talking to himself, saying something about going down to the bathroom and…” I wonder if he’s thinking about committing suicide. I listen intently… No, he seems to want to perform some kind of experiment? He keeps mumbling to himself while I alternate looking at him, and at the faces of the other people at the table, in order to keep the dream stable, but I soon conclude out loud, “Okay, you’re boring” and walk away.

I leave the chamber and this time, when I enter the circular foyer, I notice a silvery door that clearly leads outside. I walk toward it, but then notice the open window to the door’s right, which is covered with the finest of screens, and I decide to fly Superman-style through this opening. It’s a tight squeeze for an instant, during which I become aware of music emanating from a small radio on the windowsill. I can still hear the music as I make it outside into the sky. Noticing a pair of women just below me to my left, I say, “Listen to the music” even as I wonder why it’s coming from a small radio instead of emanating from the dream space all around me.

High up in the air, I gaze across the lovely rural landscape toward a row of trees, all soft red and gold autumn colors, rising in the near distance, behind which towers a great sandstone-colored castle. Nice! I decide to go explore it, but I have no intention of doing the old-fashioned flying routine again. I will bring the castle to me. Willing the castle to come to me, I think passionately—I’m going to move mountains! And in a series of two-dimensional flashes, I perceive the line of trees and the castle behind them quantum leaping closer and closer, and it’s here! Wow, I did it!

I look down. I seem to be standing on one of the towers, but it looks more like a mile-high conical hut with a thatched grass roof, something primitive. Looking around and down, I see what appear to be the ruins of the castle I first saw, with half walls and empty rooms. I myself am perched on the undulating edge of a stone wall, very high up in the sky. Well, this is different. My perch bobs up and down gently as I scan the countryside and then look up at the clear, pale blue sky. I feel, suddenly, that this isn’t enough… I have a whole dream space to explore, but it feels almost as confining as waking reality.. This too is a creation, and my usual methods of interacting with it feel limited… I want more… some new, more transcendent approach. Even here in a lucid dream, all I want is to feel closer and closer to the Life, the Power, the Source of the dream, and of everything. Opening my arms, I let myself fall backward thinking—Lord, I’m going to try and help… You!” as I fall really fast toward the ground. But before I hit it, I slow down, and am gently supported by the dream air, just as I knew I would be. I wake.

In my next dream, I’m telling my husband, Stinger, and some other people, about my lucid dream, and soon find myself following Stinger into what looks like the partially ruined remains of the Cathedral-like building I was in, and from the outside of which I saw the castle behind the trees. There is clear blue sky visible above the half walls, and for some reason, Stinger is referring to what I saw in my lucid dream not as a castle but as a dragon, and he really wants to see it for himself. I keep telling him we can’t find it here, it was in my dream, but he is so insistent that I stop to stare at him where he stands behind a glass door, and I think—Why not? I’ll give him some basic training in lucid dreaming while we search for my dragon.

Lucid now, I grab his hand and begin flying toward another glass door, tugging him behind me. “Let’s name the dragon,” I suggest. “If we name it, I think we’ll have a better chance of finding it together.” He attempts to fly on his own and I watch, amused, as he flies Superman style, but only a few inches off the ground. “Straighten yourself out,” I instruct, “and reach that door before it closes!” I have to help him, but together we manage to pass through this barrier/portal.

Outside at night, we look up at a vast and vaguely horse-shaped cloud undulating against the dark sky. Stinger declares that’s our dragon, but as the cloud formation drifts from left to right, I study it skeptically. First of all, in my earlier lucid dream I saw a castle, not a dragon, and this looks more like a cosmic horse… Oh, what the heck, “Okay, let’s go for it!” I agree, feeling there is something especially powerful and intriguing about this cloud, which can take any form it wants to, or rather, any form The Creator chooses. I slowly wake.

I love that I spontaneously said, “Lord, I’m going to try to help… You!” My dreaming soul understands that a personal creative relationship with God is a dream that can come true if we want it to.

Love’s 4th Dimension

Me & Papi Early 1960s

When someone you love dies, wouldn’t it be wonderful to still be able to see them on a regular basis? This might popularly be considered a “pipe dream” question but the actual answer is—Yes, you can, in your dreams.

The knowledge that we have ‘bodies terrestrial and bodies celestial’ is by no means new. One of the profound joys of lucid dreaming is the gift of directly, consciously experiencing our supra-physical body while still “muffled in flesh.” Many lucid dreamers, myself included, lose their fear of death. A lucid dream is, in essence, an out of (physical) body experience. Whether it be termed a Lucid Dream or an O.B.E. the experience of transcendence, which is also vividly sensual, is a life-changing revelation. And dreams have always, without fail, let me know when someone I loved was getting ready to cross over. In the summer of 2006, I had this vivid little dream:

My father, I call him Papi, and his wife are sitting together at a small round table on an upper balcony of an outdoor restaurant. The sun is shining but they both look very sad, depressed, low energy. I walk up to them and remind Papi that we’re supposed to visit the pyramids together. He tells me he doesn’t think he can make it. I’m very upset and insist we have to go, reminding him he promised me we would.

A few days later, I received an email from my father informing me that he had been diagnosed with Leukemia. In the following months we grew closer than ever as together we confronted the mystery of death, and I did my best to help him face it without fear. The pyramids of ancient Egypt are monumental expressions of an unshakable belief in immortality. Metaphorically speaking, my father and I did, indeed, visit them together. Seven months after his diagnosis, he passed away. The evening after his funeral, I was standing in the bathroom of a hotel room my husband and I were staying in on our way home, and as I brushed my hair I heard my father say joyfully, “Maria, my love!” His voice did not register in my physical eardrums but was not outside of me either; it was as clear as a bell ringing directly in my head. “You were right, Maria! You were right!” I went to bed that night determined to have a lucid dream and find him on the Other Side:

I find myself standing in a small town of sorts staring at the entrance to a theater, and at once I become lucid. I concentrate on the open door through which people are streaming out onto the street, absolutely determined my father will be one of them… and there he is! At once we’re embracing, but I notice he looks a bit groggy and confused. He warns me in the way he always did when he was worried about me—You have to be careful here, Maria. Even as I keep my eyes on his face I realize it has changed and I am hugging a man with a similar build and complexion who isn’t my father anymore. Abruptly he collapses at my feet as though shot through the heart at the same time I notice another man standing nearby. The stranger’s intensely focused eyes stare directly into mine and his smile is so chilling, I realize it is imperative I get away from there as fast as possible. I launch myself into the sky and fly away…

I believe this man was one of my Guides protecting me from the dangers of a “place” on the Other Side I was not prepared for, but to which the force of my grief and love propelled me, hence my father’s warning.

I had the following dream about a year ago:

I’m working late at night in my study, writing about lucid dreaming. As I finish a chapter and sit back contentedly, Papi walks in. The sense of him is utterly real, totally present, his white dress shirt luminous in the darkness. Smiling down at me, he rests his hand on the back of my chair and says—This is the future. I understand he means we’re already living in the future by being together in my lucid dreams.

Not long ago, I had one of the most special dreams of my life to date:

I’m driving alone at night and turn left into the driveway of my childhood home. I think of parking on the grass to the right of the driveway, but that isn’t necessary; I can park in the official spot because I’m in charge of the place now that no one is living in it anymore. The inside of the house is the deepest, darkest black imaginable. I experience a faint tinge of anxiety about entering it and staying there for a while, but I know there aren’t any intruders lying in wait for me or any other hostile forces I need fear. But as I approach the front door a car pulls up and parks in the grass in front of the house. I’m very happy my family has arrived and I need not wait for them inside all alone. I’m so happy Papi is in the back seat! As he leans forward, he says something to me…

I don’t remember the transition but now it’s a lovely sunny day and I’m walking toward a long white structure. The single story building is surrounded by a white stone walkway punctuated with matching benches looking out on lush grass and flowering trees. I follow the walkway until I come upon Papi sitting on one of the benches. I ask him if I can sit with him and he promptly moves over as he apologizes—Sorry, but here we tend to sit in the center just because we can. I reach for his hand and cling to it. In the peaceful silence, I become acutely aware of being there with him. I look around us, and the lucid sense of being fully present in the moment intensifies as I say—You know, we’re sitting here now in reality, but we could also already be sitting together on the Other Side, with nothing to fear, not ever… To which Papi replies—I feel we could be, because of the sun.

Minutes after waking from this dream, I walked outside with my dog and a fine mountain mist enabled me to look directly at the rising sun. There it was in all it’s orange-gold splendor, the solar disc as clearly visible to my naked eye as the full moon. The vision felt like a blessing, like a gift from my father telling me we truly had been together in my dream.

In our recreation room there is a very comfortable queen size guest bed that folds down from the wall. A few months ago, I decided to make this room my official lucid dreaming space on two nights a week. At the very least, I would be guaranteed sleep uninterrupted by my husband tugging on the sheets or the cat jumping on the bed, and I also felt it might help concentrate my intent to become lucid on an even more regular basis. On my first night sleeping in my new space, I had this dream:

May 2, 2013

I believe I’m awake and lying in my new lucid dreaming bed in the rec room when my husband suddenly walks in with our dog, who he mischievously drops on the bed. I demand—What are you doing here? You know I’m trying to sleep and have a lucid dream! It’s extremely unlikely he is really there and I wonder—Am I dreaming this? I’m not sure if I wake for a few moments after this and go back to sleep, or whether the false awakening continues, but now I’m alone facing the wall at the foot of the bed and a door that is not there in waking reality. The door is open and I recognize my parents’ old bedroom, the one they shared when I was a child. I get the strong sense of Papi, but of course he won’t be in there anymore… Feeling just a little unnerved, I close the door. I would rather fly through the window, but when I plant my hands against it I’m disappointed it feels perfectly real and solid… Waking, I open my eyes to the star-like waning moon shining down on my face. I lay there absorbing its light feeling it can help me lucid dream…

I believe I’m awake lying on my left side facing the dark room, the glass doors behind me. In the dream the flat screen TV runs parallel to the top of my head whereas in reality it forms a right angle with my head. I tense when I hear a quiet yet distinct, absolutely real voice. There is someone in the room with me, I have no doubt about that, but I’m not as scared as I should be because it sounded just like Papi who spoke a single word in Spanish—Porfavor. (Please.) I find the courage to ask—Que? (What?) He answers—Ven aqui. (Come here.) That seems like too much to ask because this is really creepy. I protest—Pero tengo miedo, Papi! (But I’m afraid!) His reply translates to—Move now. Don’t wait. I struggle to sit up; it’s difficult to move and not just because I’m scared; I have a hard time coordinating my limbs. Managing a sitting position, I know for a fact I’m dreaming when I see my father sitting in front of the bay windows, his sky-blue sweat pants distinctly visible in the darkness. My fear mostly evaporates then and I approach him. I’m not surprised Papi is here; it feels right and natural, like the next step in our nocturnal relationship. He gestures apologetically and I notice that in the dream space there are no other chairs. I say quickly—That’s okay, I’ll just sit here. I perch on a child-size circular table in front of him, the sort kids sit around to draw and have fun. Papi is smiling at me but I’m a little concerned he is as thin now as he was before he died. He begins speaking in Spanish—You know, when you’re rupturing inside… The details escape me but I understand he’s talking about the last few hours of his life and the nightmare ride in the ambulance in the middle of the night. I sense he needs to share this with me, for both our sake, but am distracted by how oddly high-pitched and reedy his voice is becoming. I say—Papi, you sound funny… and you don’t really look like yourself. His smiling response is perfectly eloquent. Of course, on the Other Side no one has a fixed form. As I study his face, familiar yet slightly different, I phase out of the dream.

I woke too soon to hear everything he had to say, but my father apparently wanted to share the last moments of his life with me, when he was confronting the ultimate fear. The more I thought about it, the more this dream seemed to embody the question—Are you ready to rise above your fears? I may have passed an important test by conquering my dread and getting up to speak with him. The child’s drawing table was a very positive symbol of beginning something, of creatively learning and growing. “Move now, don’t wait,” Papi said, words I don’t believe are meant to be taken only literally. It is significant that the first night I slept in my new dream space my father came to me so vividly. I believe he is encouraging me to do everything I can to strengthen and fully develop my natural lucid dreaming abilities, urging me to “move now” with my dreams. The door to his old bedroom appeared at the foot of my bed, opening onto the past and our physical life together, then he greeted me with the word “Please” from the opposite side of the room… Please let us continue growing together in this lucid 4th Dimension bridging physical reality and the Other Side?

Three months later, there is no doubt in my heart that Papi helped baptize my new lucid dreaming space. So far, every time I move to the rec room at around 3:00 in the morning, during my Wake Back to Bed ritual which includes thoughtfully reviewing my feelings and intents, I have at least one, and frequently three or more lucid dreams. Most nights my dreams begin in the rec room and, recognizing it, I immediately become lucid.

My father’s love and presence are as much a part of my life now as before he crossed over, and in a profound sense I feel closer to him than ever before. Perhaps because I wholeheartedly believe an ongoing relationship with deceased loved ones is possible, is one reason I remain accessible to them in dreams, my love and faith akin to a bonfire burning in the darkness of Mystery.

Epilogue

I now know one of the reasons Papi came to me in the rec room that night.

I sent his wife, Adela, a printed copy of this article, which was published in the Lucid Dreaming Experience, Vol. 2, No. 2, September 2013. She called me and spoke to me for a long time. She confessed that she had never told me the full story of my father’s last day. When she called me from the hospital at 5:00 in the morning to tell me Papi had died, I assumed they had just taken an ambulance there, because the last I had heard he was at home. In truth, the previous morning, Papi had begun coughing up blood. He didn’t want to go the hospital but Adela finally persuaded him to and so at around 10:00 the ambulance came and took them. He went first to the emergency room but his doctor managed to put him in his old ocean facing room, where he remained. During that time, many friends and loved ones came to see him, as did their priest, and Adela said he was calm and at peace. He firmly refused another blood transfusion, which his doctor kept trying to persuade him to get. He simply said to her every time she insisted, “Let’s wait until tomorrow.” He knew there would be no tomorrow. He reassured Adela that he knew he was going to a better place and wasn’t afraid anymore. When night fell and everyone else left, she stayed with him on a cot placed next to his bed, although she didn’t sleep but mostly sat watching him. She was there when she heard the machine helping him breathe stop, which meant he had passed. The nurses later assured her he hadn’t been in any serious pain for he only pressed the medication button 3 time during his stay.

I knew in the dream Papi had been speaking to me about the last hours of his life when he was “rupturing inside” but because I didn’t know the full story, I assumed he was referring to an ambulance ride in the middle of the night. As Adela was telling me what actually happened, a light seemed to fill my heart and I understood that Papi had arranged for this conversation between us. I felt, I knew, Papi wanted me to know the truth of how he really spent the last day of his life. He wanted me to know he had been at peace, that he had known he was living his last day and that he wasn’t afraid or in pain. I knew he wanted me to stop thinking about the last hours of his life as a “nightmare ambulance ride in the middle of the night”. In truth he spent the day looking out at the ocean surrounded by loved ones, Adela’s extended family, who all lived in Miami, unlike his three children who lived in different States and wouldn’t have been able to make it there in time. I only wish he had called me that last day so I could have spoken to him, as I did everyday. In more than seven years since his passing, Adela had never told me what really happened. It seems Papi knew he had to get her to do so, hence my dream, which led me to write this article for the Lucid Dreaming Experience, which I then sent her. Now the dream feels complete and makes perfect sense to me. As Adela spoke, I felt I was hearing everything Papi had said to me in the dream.

“We Are Who You Are”

July 28, 2013

I’m an actor in a musical film when I find myself on a blue metal balcony of sorts overlooking a dark city. I’m playing, or standing in for, the woman the hero loves. Gripping the edges of the empty chair where she had just been sitting, my back to the streets and buildings, I realize abruptly that I’m dreaming. I continue singing the song I’m in the middle of, and even consider whether or not to go on. Of course not, I’m lucid now. I turn to the railing and fly off into the dusky blue sky. Far below me are the shining angled rooftops of a vibrantly colorful city, the hues orange, red and yellow predominating. The vast city is as magical looking as a Disney cartoon only it is real and more detailed. There are birds in the sky, quite a few of them, including a strange big “furry” black-and-white bird that flies off a bare tree branch heading in the same direction I am. Remembering the hawks James saw yesterday, and his intention to fly high up into the sky to try and find me, I hopefully search the sky for hawks as I cry—James! I’m coming to find you, James! I intend to rise higher and higher, but, in fact, I’m gradually losing altitude. I can feel that struggling to reverse the pull of gravity won’t get me anywhere so I let myself slowly land on the tree covered ground.

Merging with a group of people dressed in dark winter coats and white scarves, I realize where they’re all heading as I glimpse a frozen shore, and a cold dark-blue expanse of water beyond a rock of a similar size and shape to James’ rock, only it is solid ice. I think—Okay, this is interesting. I’m always attracted to water in a lucid dream. I wonder why I seem to recognize my location as Austria, perhaps because it relates to the musical I was just performing in. ShipFollowing the crowd, I call again for James a few times. I realize the people are lining up to board a small ship or large boat. I think of the Mansion where James and I have tried to meet, and how instead I find myself becoming lucid in these different locations, where finding him seems as complicated as traveling long distances on earth without a map. I decide it might be interesting to board the ship and see where it leads me, but I lose the dream.

I find myself standing outside in a bright sunny day on a large expanse of green outside the car-vehicle that transported me there. I’m facing a man I seem to remember as Abuelo, behind which a woman appears I somehow know is someone’s Great Aunt, and then perhaps another dead relation joins the group. Abuelo, or whoever he is, is choreographing some kind of reunion, and though I think Stinger was there briefly, everything comes into better focus when Mami appears and I inform her about our visiting deceased relatives. Then she and I turn toward a large house and I call out to my dog Arthur, who races happily toward me across the bright green. We enter a residence, and as we start up a broad, relatively short flight of off-white steps in a lovely spacious foyer, well lit by the tall windows on the first landing filled with blue sky, I declare—Este es el sueño! (This is the dream!) I get it now! Mami, walking slightly ahead of me, glances back at me as she reaches the landing, a curious little smile on her face that seems pleased yet also slightly wistful, as though she knows perfectly well this is a dream but that she won’t remember being here with me when she wakes in the morning. The stairs make a sharp right turn, and as we ascend to the second and main floor, I look out the windows in growing appreciation of the view. We are definitely in a dream neighborhood because all the residences—close together yet somehow possessed of their own space—are the perfect blend of a church and a house, and I seem to remember they are all framed in black. Pausing to gaze out and down at them, I realize they’re a synthesis of everything, church, house, boat, a primitive sort of “hut” still visible in its structure, etc. These beautiful structures are everything that can possibly contain life.

Now we’re on the main floor of the residence, which is very expansive and pleasingly, eclectically furnished and decorated. I’m aware of several people, mostly men, standing in the living room facing me as I arrive. phoneLooking around me, I declare—I’m going to call James! Is there a phone in this place? I turn left and proceed into a more intimate adjoining space searching for a phone. Everything is very real and detailed and, sure, enough, I spot a cordless phone similar to the kind I use in waking reality. I hurry over to it and pick it up. I don’t remember his phone number but I decide to simply dial J-A-M-E-S with the oddly foggy plastic rectangles on which I can just make out orange letters. As I wait for an answer, conscious of needing to keep my attention moving to avoid waking, I look in a full-length mirror partially obscured by some furniture in front of it. I see myself, I am me but younger and idealized, my features and figure sharpened to absolute perfection so that I almost resemble Nicole Kidman. Pleased, I sway my body and hips, dancing in place. An automated message informs me—This call cannot be completed as dialed, or something to that effect. I hang up and try again, focusing intently on pressing just the right number-letters, and this time, James answers the phone! His voice and identity are, without a doubt, James. I cry—James, this is Maria! I’m calling you from the dream space! This is a dream. We’re dreaming. He replies—Oh God, I’m smoking, and I demand, a little shocked—You’re not smoking pot before work, are you? He begins talking, quietly and quickly, and although I can barely hear him, I get the gist of what he’s saying. He’s apologizing to me for something, then expressing a growing concern about a health issue, and finally explaining how stressful work has been lately. I interrupt—Look, James, if you think you’re awake, then you won’t remember this.

Hanging up eventually, I walk out of the room, pleased I did something new, or relatively new, by using a phone in a lucid dream to try and hook up with James. Moving a little deeper into the house, I follow two of my tall blonde “brother’s” into a long, ideally lit, spacious room with a really high wall on the right and equally tall windows on the left. I say to them—I look like Nicole Kidman! as I lay on my back on the floor luxuriating in my dream body for a moment. Standing again, I declare—Man, I wish I could stay in this dream! The youths are followed into the bedroom by several young women, and the whole lot is climbing into what I can only describe as bunk beds placed against the Cathedral-high wall. Watching these attractive, vibrant Dream Characters, my lucid curiosity sharpens into a question—Who are you? I’m about to add “all” (Who are you all?) but before I can do so, they all turn to face me and reply in a powerful, almost challenging chorus—We are who you are! Their response hits me like a revelation, as a blast of joyful recognition that goes right through me because it comes as no surprise. Oh, yes! It makes perfect sense! My elation is expressed by a large yellow bean-bag-like chair-ball that bounces toward me, and as I toss it playfully away, I announce, quoting what a little girl Dream Character said to me in another dream—And this is the year that God made! I understand that, like time itself, we are all of us God’s creations, which explains why everyone here feels like my brothers and sisters. Their response strikes me as simply, wonderfully, amazing, and as I walk further into the beautiful luminous residence, with its cathedral-like dimensions, I repeat—We are who you are. We are who you are! wondering if I should wake up so I can record this.

I decide, instead, to proceed toward the back of the house, heading into a long, less well lit corridor and a door at the end. I “hear” a presence inquire if I plan to go witness my brother’s drills, and I grasp that weapons, perhaps swords, are involved in what’s going on outside those doors. I think—That could be cool. As I walk out the door, I can feel that I’m in my stocking feet and think—This won’t do, I need some nice black shiny boots so I can join in the sword play. Looking down, I try to materialize black boots around my feet, but I can’t, not even when I make an effort to imagine the solid feel of them around my ankles and against the soles of my feet. It’s really making me angry. Why can’t I conjure some boots?! Why is it still so difficult to create things in a lucid dream; it seems a skill I should have mastered by now. As I’m literally stomping my foot in frustration, I wake.

UPDATE added October 11, 2013

I tried to find a picture of a ship that looked like the one from my dream and the image posted above (from fotolia.com) was the closest I came, but in fact, the ship in my dream was the color of the ship which belongs to Christoph, who lives in Switzerland. I believe I know now where the ship I felt myself drawn to in the dream was leading me, toward this new dream centered friendship. We met virtually at the 2013 IASD (International Association for the Study of Dreams) Psiber Conference. When I shared this dream with him, Christoph sent me a picture of his ship and commented, “Switzerland and Austria look quite similar. In the mountains we have much snow and ice; the winter is long. My ship can be used as an ice breaker, its body is formed for that. It is a traditional Dutch ship type, a so called “Vlet”. It is a working ship, which can be used all year. But it is a sweet water ship, designed for rivers, canals and lakes, not for the sea. There it might swing, pitch and roll too much.”

Christoph's Ship-sm

 

Heavenly Games

July 14, 2013

Lucid 1:

I’m walking back into the rec room at night as if returning from the bathroom but I’m being chased by a large pesky fly in the shape of a human baby-Buddha. I do my best to shoo it away and seal it off in the living room, but one of the rec room doors isn’t aligned with the frame and they won’t close all the way. The situation is so impossibly ridiculous, I realize I’m dreaming! At once I turn and fly straight through the Bay Windows, which are invitingly silvery. I never have any problem going through them, but tonight I feel a slight gravitational frisson around them and near the house in general. I easily move free of it and glide about half-a-mile above the ground. I’m not on my property because the land is flatter. The darkness has a blue tinge to it in which I clearly make out black bare branches and bushes. I’m elated to be lucid and thank the Lords. Immediately I think of James and recite our spell—Bring me to the Mansion where James and I can have a mutual lucid dream. It occurs to me I should be able to conjure a gateway or something to aid in the fulfillment of my request, but I lose lucidity.
I believe I wake in my lucid dreaming bed and realize it was Stinger, lying close beside me and moving, who woke me. I’m not really surprised or even annoyed his dream body came to sleep with me, but I am surprised at how real and solid it feels. There is a dark-haired woman sleeping on his other side. I would prefer to be alone in my dream space, but I love him and I’m impressed he was able to achieve this, so I say—Okay, but if you’re going to stay, at least move over and don’t take up the whole bed. I sit up, adjusting the covers, wondering at how very real this all feels even though it’s really weird. Stinger and the woman’s position are now reversed on the bed and it’s all just so crazy I get up, somehow managing to detach myself from the quicksand-like scene. I realize then that I’m still asleep and dreaming!

Lucid 2:

I turn around, exit the rec room, and walk purposefully out the front door intending to see where it leads me. Once again I realize I’m no longer on our waking reality property. I follow a dirt path and pass what I clearly distinguish as the polished wood, gold and black, of what appear to be tobacco pipe stems. I make a careful note of this visual, feeling very stable and sharply lucid. I emerge from behind what might be a solid tent flap into a very realistic daytime scene, some sort of rustic festival or rural gathering. The first thing I notice is a huge heritage breed, silver-blue cow, absolutely magnificent. I admire it for a long moment before turning away, thinking—I wish I could take a snapshot of that to bring with me. Looking around, I recognize a theme to this event flagged by pieces of antique cloth with a Native American feel to them. Dark-skinned men standing around it, I walk by the reconstruction of what I take to be one of the first planes ever made, its skeleton only partially covered by a patchwork quilt of this very old indigenous woven material. As I continue walking, looking around me curiously, one of many people milling around (although by no means a packed modern crowd) it becomes night. A few yards away is a natural elevated area, a long flat-topped hill serving as a kind of stage, and my vision is caught by a beautiful, enthralling sight— around the base of a bare-branched off-white tree, silvery-white lights suddenly ignite and swiftly circle it like a living necklace of fireflies or distant stars except that they’re rectangular in shape. They orbit the tree in a breathtaking heartbeat and suddenly I become aware of drumming.

Woman forest spirit

Moving closer, I see more of these white trees and realize they are partially hollow and that there is a single person standing inside each one; each tree is inhabited by a Shaman. I keep walking toward the stage, moving left toward the small group of male drummers, thinking of Robert Moss and wondering if this means I should consider attending one of his dream groups. The drumming is not the monotonous repetitive sound of Shamanic drumming, it is more rhythmic, almost like a cross between Shamanic drumming and Flamenco. As I approach the musicians, I begin clapping in rhythm, or in counterpoint, with the music, wondering at how naturally I presume to become part of the performance, but it feels, and sounds, quite right. I study the intent faces of the drummers, definitely Native American. Their eyes are closed as though they’re in a trance. I stop clapping and begin moving right along the hillock-platform because, interesting as this is, I feel the need to move on. I find myself walking alongside a single story white building. I can see lights and color inside and pause where the path turns left at a right angle to consider my options. I think of James and wonder where he might be in all of this. I feel myself losing the dream.

Lucid 3:

I’m lying in bed with Stinger in a strange version of the rec room, familiar but different. In the bed with us is a man dressed in a dark, pinstripe suit. He is perched on the pillows looking down at us. I wave him away but he only moves so far as a chair near the bed, in which he seats himself to continue watching us. Okay, I am definitely still asleep and dreaming, which means I can handle this unwanted voyeur. Raising my right hand, I intend a black defensive energy to flow toward him. I’ve been practicing my energy conjuring skills in my lucid dreams lately, and I’m gratified when after a moment a prism-like flow of faint black energy flows toward the man and renders him unconscious, or disables him, but only for an instant. He’s still there watching us with an annoying smile and I want him gone. I say to Stinger, “Watch this” and once again direct faint gray-black lines of energy toward the man. They enter him, fill him, and he disappears. I’m conscious of the fact that I’m practicing negative magic in a lucid dream, but I’m not hurting the dream character, just sending him away. I can now turn my full attention to Stinger. I roll on top of him and begin impatiently tossing away my clothes, piece by piece, really glad this is a dream and I don’t have to worry about picking everything up later but can just relax and enjoy myself… After a while, I believe I wake up.

Lucid 4:

I get up off my lucid dreaming bed in the rec room. My family is also up; I hear my parents in the living room. Then suddenly my little brother (not my real brother) runs into the room and stands beside my bed. I look at him and exclaim, “Wait, you’re up too early, you would never get up so early. This is still a dream!” I walk happily into the pitch dark living room, where Papi is standing, just as Mami (both of them silhouettes) walks out of the kitchen. I tell them—Estamos soñando. Este es un Sueño. (We’re dreaming. This is a dream) and Mami tells Papi, “Es verdad.” (It’s true.) I say, “Vamos a caminar afuera.” (Let’s go walk outside) and we walk together out the front door. Far away the sky is filled with brilliant white stars, multitudes of them, so very beautiful, mysterious and profoundly heartwarming. It doesn’t matter that the porch and the world are still pitch black. Papi&MamiCubaLooking over my right shoulder at where my parents are standing just behind me, I announce, deliberately relishing the Spanish language of my childhood, “Voy a volar con mi mama y mi papa. Vamos!” (I’m going to fly with my mother and father. Let’s go!) I take Mami’s left hand with my right hand and we promptly rise sedately, effortlessly up into the sky with Papi just behind us. I look at Mami and declare, “Que bella!” (So beautiful!) because she looks to be in her late twenties again, and yet her face, so beloved and familiar, also seems a little different, a little like another woman’s face. At one point, Papi, just above me, becomes horizontal and falls down toward me, but I laughingly support his weight and help him upright again. We pass bare black tree branches and, as we slowly gain altitude, I see that at least two trees are occupied, a person poised in the topmost branches of each one almost like figureheads, or Native American scouts scanning the land below because they’re wearing light-brown deer-skin-like outfits and facing in the direction we’re flying.

The night is so beautifully alive; the sounds of life are an ambient music coming from everywhere, endlessly rich and yet also subtle. Suddenly, I even hear what sounds like Soup, our old laying hen, clucking excitedly somewhere below me, and I extend my hand toward her in delight before thinking—Oh that’s ridiculous, I’m not going to cuddle up with my old chicken right now. Looking up again, I am presented with an astonishing sight, a city like no earthly city, that consists of two immense buildings across from each other rendered almost in two dimensions, their windows, and the people leaning out of them, much larger than they can realistically be, the perspective changing and shifting everywhere I look as some people are colossal while others appear smaller. The structures are white but the people, their skin, hair and clothes, are all vividly colorful. SpaceShipsAnd high above this surrealistic city scene I suddenly see what appear to be spaceships! Alien life forms visiting earth?! The spaceships are not flying saucers, they resemble vessels from the new Battlestar Galactica, and I notice they are firing at each other as though a battle is in progress. But my dismay lasts only an instant when I see what is actually issuing from them—spheres of bright red, gold and silver lights akin to glittering Christmas ornaments merged with fireworks, growing in size as they descend toward earth and transform into… toys! Toys are raining down from heaven! The theme of “play” is everywhere, I realize now, as I spot a much larger than life little girl holding a baseball bat where she “hovers” in her “window.” Gazing around me in amazement, I wonder how this can possibly be the future, even though it’s obviously not the present, because there is no sign of global warming; everything appears to be just fine with the world, even better, as toys (and by implication all the possible games associated with them) keep raining down from the heavens! Some of the toys are so big, a white submarine-like spaceship for example, I’m almost afraid of being crushed by them, but they all continue falling toward earth as lightly as snowflakes in a magical storm. I have never experienced anything like this in a lucid dream and I can scarcely believe my eyes. Slowly, I wake.

Archetypes and Alien Embassies

June 13, 2013

Just before Wake Back to Bed, between 2:10 and 2:45, I had one of those rare exceptionally real-feeling, semi-lucid dreams. It’s the middle of the night but I’m up and in the rec room with Arthur. It feels very real; I’m sure I’m awake. I say to Arthur—You want to go for a quick pee before we go back to bed? He looks delighted, this is a new treat, as he always sleeps straight through the night. So we run happily together into the sun room, where I stop abruptly, and pick him up, crouching as I look out the windows in surprise.  A small military plane has just landed in our driveway, and unloaded young troops I clearly see crossing the yard just outside. They appear to be practicing night maneuvers; they convey no sense of danger or urgency, only a perfectly disciplined purpose. My eye is drawn to the face of a young woman in the line. Her expression sober, she’s holding a rifle and staring straight ahead of her into the darkness, obviously not afraid of it. I admire how she’s up in the dead of the night—a time I associate with feeling weak and vulnerable, when life’s fears gang up on our mortal selves—at the same time identifying with her calm, focused, wide awake control as qualities I have begun to embrace through my lucid dreaming practice and Wake Back to Bed ritual. Arthur is squirming in my arms, really wanting to go out as I promised him he could, but I can’t let him outside because larger dogs have accompanied the squadron, canine soldiers, and a few feet beyond the door, in the middle of the courtyard-driveway, a large black dog is standing next to the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette of a troop commander. Somehow it makes sense that a piece of the army has chosen our property for a training mission, I am actually pleased, even honored to be able to assist our troops in this way. I’m crouching in the room as I look out the windows, keeping respectfully out of sight, and Stinger is there now with me as I become aware of crouching in shallow, reedy water observing the troops.

The next thing I know, Stinger and I are standing in the sun room before a female commander who is seated at a small table addressing us. There is a feminine quality to her, and yet she looks more like a man with a pointed red-orange beard. She is the troop commander and absolutely sure of herself. She came to investigate a “relic” we found on our property, which has proved to be exactly what Stinger estimated it was in his report, a fact which has seriously impressed her. I feel proud of my husband but not at all surprised that his assessment was spot-on.

redbook-2The androgynous commander is holding a book bound in fine red leather that is central to what she is telling us about, speaking in a controlled, serious yet animated way. As she and Stinger continue talking, I sit down with the book and begin looking through it, semi-lucid now as I wonder at how real this all feels, which means a part of me (which doesn’t quite break through the surface) understands it’s a dream. Yet a better way to describe it is that I was aware of being in Mind Space vs. Waking Reality. The book feels perfectly real, absolutely solid, as I run my fingertips along the smooth red leather cover, and then, opening it, over the slightly raised engraved sketches on different pages, sketched in black with some red highlights. I’m conscious of the invisible troops surrounding the sun room watching me, and wonder if they think I’m feigning my rapt interest in the book, but I’m not. Though in Waking Reality I would feel self conscious, in Mind Space I am quite relaxed and genuinely engrossed in the book. The commander tells Stinger he-she is leaving the book with us so we can make an exact replica, not merely a copy, and I’m surprised; I understand this is an honor, an expression of complete trust in our stewardship of this highly important object.

© determined - Fotolia.com-editedI know without being told that what I’m holding in my hands, with such visual and tactile presence, is the metaphysical tale of a soul—represented by a woman who is every single me that ever was and will be—and its relationship with God, which entails confronting the devil, but the only figure illustrated is hers-mine. God is invisibly present before and beside her on the white pages, while the devil takes form only in small details, which manifest on her form, as mouse-like ears or horns on her head, for example. She is drawn in a flowing yet precise cartoon-like fashion, her face and profile masterfully animated and rendered. About half-way, or a little more, into the book, I believe it ends, and in a sense it does, for the moment, because there are only white pages beyond that point. And yet as I flip through them, I realize they are all illustrated, or will be. The final page of the tale shows her standing and smiling into the book, the look on her face absolutely joyful.

After Wake Back to Bed a lucid dream buried in other dreams. I’m in a dark interstellar spaceship that has landed. My brain likens it to the U.S.S. Enterprise even as I know it’s not because it’s real. I’m standing near the front, essentially the bridge or cockpit, and can see through the open door on my right. It’s night outside on this world. I spend a few “minutes” talking to someone on the dark ship about our “mission”—mysteriously equivalent to the plot of a film that is also actually happening. I tell my invisible companion on the ship that I’m finally beginning to understand what’s going on and step out onto the “gangplank” leading down. The ship has landed at the edge of a colossal “compound”, a one-story structure with three sides bordering a large open space. Attached to the interior right end of this sprawling dark structure, very close to where the ship has landed, is a small building from which a woman I recognize, because she came on the ship with us, emerges and stands at the top of the steps waiting for me. This is her world, to which she brought us as its ambassador.Türe in die Freiheit It comes to me in a perfectly lucid flash of comprehension that on every inhabited world in the known universe there is an embassy attached to exactly the same kind of complex. As I walk up the steps and enter the building—a curious blend of manor house meets small church—I wonder at this seeming lack of imagination, as though the production company got lazy, or didn’t have enough funds, to finance different sets for each planet. But just as quickly I comprehend there is a reason for this uniformity. My companion reinforces my “reasoning” by telling me that the compound to which the embassies are connected are made of the same red-and-white diamond tiles everywhere for a reason, the exact word she uses to describe it escaping me now, perhaps “energetic.” The alien embassy’s entrance foyer is a cross between an atmospherically lit hotel lobby and a dark pub, very pleasant. I slip into full lucidity as I look around me appreciatively. I’m distinctly conscious of starting up a broad wooden staircase with my female guide/companion/crew member/passenger. I remark on the interesting phenomena of the embassy appearing to be a rather small building from the outside when on the inside, as I begin to sense, it is really much taller and larger, potentially vast. She replies—Oh, I don’t know, I think it’s cozy. I agree, but to me it still feels bigger inside than it looks from the outside. The staircase makes a sharp left-hand, pyramid-like turn as I very consciously look around me, taking in the details and feel of the place, with its high, Cathedral ceiling and smooth dark wooden construction. I say—Yes, it’s very quaint, like a Swiss chalet.

I don’t remember what happened once I reached the second floor of this interstellar embassy. The next thing I recall is a false awakening, getting out of bed and crawling on my hands and knees through a scene that feels like a pavilion-garden, inside yet outside, to Stinger, who is clad in flowing white, eager to tell him about my dream. But he sends me back to bed, and I understand there is still enough time in the night to keep dreaming, a little upset at myself for being so oddly out of it.

I enter a bedroom I know is mine. The door is large and dense, a dark silver, maybe carved, a foreign look and feel to it. I want to close it all the way to block out the sound of people out in the courtyard talking, and yet I also need to leave it slightly ajar so as not to lock something or someone out: Mami, who enters and seats herself. She watches as I quickly begin writing my lucid dream down on a dark green-brown cloth with a pen-pencil-stick that is nearly the same color. I begin very near the top edge of the cloth spread out on a table and it begins fraying, the pressure of my penmanship loosening the threads, revealing their varied colors as they curl up, rising like plant seedlings, which gives the cloth an even more earthy appearance. Concerned about losing my dream notes, I carefully rip the layer of cloth off the more solid wood-colored parchment beneath, and keep writing. I become aware of a handsome blonde man in the room to my right who, smiling, proceeds to turn on the television on the wall just beginning to air the show he and Mami were both waiting to watch. I perceive what the broadcast is about as a vision—my new dress, made specifically for me, exhibited on the edge of a bright white stage. It is the most beautiful garment I have ever seen. It is supple as cloth but made up of small, shining, geometrically cut precious stones of every color, although gold and blue and red predominate. It begins high at the neck and falls, gently formfitting, all the way to the floor. It gleams and clings as though alive but is the exact opposite of a cold reptilian skin. I can scarcely believe this dress is meant for me. My sister is going to model it before I take possession of it.

Before waking, a Hypnagogic Image of the wooded gravel country road I walk on every morning, and an ageless woman dressed in flowing white standing on the right side, clearly visible against the dark-green trees, looking directly at me.

Dream Notes:

CarlJung

Carl Jung, who the figure in the dream did indeed resemble, is, of course, the author of the famous Red Book, his life’s work, which my husband Stinger gave me as a gift shortly after we moved to our dream home. “In Jungian analysis… marriage symbolizes the potential for union between God and the individual.” When I was flipping through all the white pages yet to come, I did not pause on the next one, I did not feel the need to exert any control or impose myself on the book at all, I just knew it would keep going, effortlessly, magically, with no end, really, since on the last page I was looking back into the book.

The spectacular jeweled dress could represent my Divine form-self, the substance and colors of creation flowing from God-Consciousness-Being, invisible in itself (the white “mannequin” was headless) yet the source, the eternal “fabric” of all manifest experience. “The cutting and shaping of precious stones signifies the soul shaped from the rough, irregular, dark stone into the gem, regular in shape and reflecting divine light… Jewels symbolize hidden treasures of knowledge and truth, but also earthly love and riches” the marriage of heaven and earth, spirituality with sensuality, the Creator with creation.

This is the first time I have been lucidly conscious of apparently traveling to another world. The homogeneous appearance of the energy complexes to which the millions of potential interstellar embassies are attached is interesting because M-theory suggests that all sub-atomic matter in the Universe is connected by, and consists of, a giant membrane of energy. Inside, the embassies themselves, I somehow knew, were unique, reflecting the laws, “architecture”, of their worlds, but they were all attached to the same three-sided structure-source-energy.

Our schooling in waking reality is marked by graduations, moving from one grade, one level of learning, to the next, and I feel last night marked an important milestone in my spiritual development. Instead of a diploma, I was handed a Red Book—the unending chronicle of my soul. And just as I traveled across the world to Egypt the day of my high school graduation, I seemed to have journeyed to another world last night, lucidly for the first time. Pretty cool!

UPDATE – August 16, 2015:

My interpretation of this night of dreaming, especially with the Book, developed over time. The following excerpt is taken from my new book Lucid Dreams and the Holy Spirit, in which I speak about these dreams:
 

I will admit that I felt encouraged, and rather proud of myself after this dream, singled out by “higher powers” for some sort of spiritual promotion. This dream seemed to indicate that, at long last, I was making some real progress in my life-long battle with the demons of doubts and fears, and all the character weaknesses they breed, which can become our soul’s worst enemies. I don’t think I was wrong about that, but I do see now that the Book I was given to keep, and make my own, is the Book, the Holy Bible, the Word of God. In my dream, I felt God’s Presence on every pure white page, but perhaps one reason so many pages were blank is because I had not yet begun reading it for myself.

The reason Christ comes to meet us in Scripture is not merely to inform us, but to transform us. Therefore, the spiritual understanding of Scripture, or the allegorical meaning, is never just something detached, historical or catechetical. God speaks to us through Scripture and awaits personal response. Spiritual understanding of Scripture and the process of conversion are one and the same… We don’t reach out to take the meaning of the text and try to apply it to our lives. Rather, when we put ourselves before God in the Bible, the Spirit that dwells in the words reaches out and assimilates us to Himself. God’s word is alive and efficacious… This power… is a testimony of their divine origin.”i

I can now sum up my dream in a few words: Read the Word of God, and feel it come alive in your heart as it speaks directly and personally to your soul.

In my dream, the Book was also meant for my husband, and by extension for everyone, but I proudly claimed it all for myself. The Holy Spirit has been extremely patient with me, for the truth is that, in certain respects, I have always been vain, and considered myself extra special, God only knows why. Each of us has a personal relationship with God and his Word, so what I held in my hands in the dream was, indeed, the journey of my soul. But I conveniently made light of the several illustrations where the devil’s continued influence on me was expressed by little red horns on my head, and other telling details. Nevertheless, the end result was positive—I stood looking back into the Book smiling beatifically.

It took much longer than it should have, but I am at last properly educating myself with God’s own Words. When I read the Gospels, I feel the Lord speaking directly to my soul, and it often makes me cry for joy, mingled with shame and regret, at how long I denied myself His intimate Presence and support.

Like many, I thought I could bootstrap my way to an understanding of spiritual truths through my reasoning powers alone, largely unaware of the actual content of God’s special revelation in the Bible… I was constantly seeking the truth, but usually through my own feeble efforts and presumptuous ponderings, and without studying the Bible itself or examining Christian doctrine more carefully… When it finally dawned on me that I was holding in my hands a written communication from the God of the universe, my life changed.”ii

I see the spectacular jeweled dress as representing my Spirit, which is one with God, the source, the eternal “fabric” of all manifest experience. For me, the dress expresses the marriage of heaven and earth, spirituality with sensuality, the Creator with His creation.

The cutting and shaping of precious stones signifies the soul shaped from the rough, irregular, dark stone into the gem, regular in shape and reflecting divine light… Jewels symbolize hidden treasures of knowledge and truth, but also earthly love and riches”iii

When I was writing down my dream about the Book during my false awakening, my pencil cut into the fabric like a seamstress working on a living dress. Almost exactly one year after this dream, I came upon the following passage in the autobiography of Saint Therese of Lisieux:

O my God! I don’t ask you to make Profession. I will wait as long as you desire, but what I don’t want is to be the cause of my separation from You through my fault. I will take great care, therefore, to make a beautiful dress enriched with priceless stones, and when You find it sufficiently adorned, I am certain all the creatures in the world will not prevent You from coming down to me to unite me to Yourself forever, O my Beloved!”iv

iMarcellino D’Ambrosio, When the Church Was Young:Voices of the Early Fathers, Kindle Edition, Locations 1756-1766

iiDavid Limbaugh, Jesus on Trial: A Lawyer Affirms the Truth of the Gospel, Locations 146-147, 190-191, 350-351

iiiJ.C. Cooper, An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols, Thames & Hudson, Ltd., London

ivSt. Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul, Third Edition, Translated from the Original Manuscripts by John Clarke, O.C.D. , ICS Publications, page 158

A Clear Answer

May 27th, 2012:

I’m with someone I identify as my husband standing near the entrance of a large open yet enclosed space difficult to identify, a cross between an airport, a mall, a great hotel, etc. I look into his eyes and immediately realize this is a dream. I tell him, “We’re dreaming! This is a dream!” hoping he’ll understand and his unfocused eyes will focus, but if they do so, it’s only the tiniest bit. Impatient and eager, I grab his arm and declare, “Let’s fly!” Still holding onto him, I ascend into the open space surrounded by colorful walls. “Do you see the same colors I do?” I ask my zombie-like companion, who doesn’t reply. Bright red, yellow and white are angled into shining neon shapes that are also words as we float east toward the entrance.

Outside it’s night time and I fly out eagerly, losing my companion, who I look back and see is standing/floating near the entrance to that vast, amorphous structure as though he can go no farther. I’m not inclined to go back for him and wave a farewell as I proceed eagerly up and out into the open sky. I’m high up and yet still feel close to the earth as I distinctly see a woman–her arms at her sides and her posture as still and vertical as a carved figurine’s even though she’s real–plunge straight down through a layer of clouds that part around her then close again. I think this cloud-mist, what I could discern of it in the darkness, was tinged a bluish green. I have to remind myself to do a deepening technique, giving my chest and breasts a cursory pat down; I feel perfectly rooted in the dream.

There’s a long moment where I simply look around me, open to whatever I might see, to whatever the dream might put before me, but then abruptly I remember what I was worried about before I went to bed. I ask the dream a very specific (personal) question then I look around me for some place where the answer might be found, a doorway I can open, something. At once I see a brightly lit room at the western end of a long, single story building. In the darkness it stands out like a light house and I can even see the shapes of wooden furniture inside it. I fly straight down toward it and into it, eagerly looking for a drawer to open. I distinctly see clean, new-looking wooden furnishings, which include one or two picnic tables. It feels somewhat like a room used to hold the work of a single expert carpenter and craftsman. I alight/kneel before a table/dresser with a drawer and open it. Inside, and yet now also on top of it, a little pig carved in blue wood comes to life and says clearly, almost urgently, “No! No! False alarm! False alarm!” almost jumping up and down it’s so apparently intent on answering my question. I laugh out loud it’s so adorable and because I’m completely surprised and thrilled to get a straight answer from the dream; not merely a “yes” or “no” as I had hoped for but a resounding “No!” And though the object was a little pig it was also shaped like a clock, round, with a straight base, and yet there were no arms or numbers, which in retrospect made it look more like an animated Shen Ring, the ancient Egyptian symbol for eternity.

I leave the room absolutely delighted and, flying low through the sky, almost immediately come upon a large mirror with a gilded frame, just like in my last lucid dream. However, this time I see myself reflected as I look now, not younger, wearing the dress I wore in waking life the evening before, the only difference is, I’m black! I study my skin and see that it’s not paint, or ashes or anything smearing me; I distinguish the natural pores in my flesh. I smile at myself, intrigued to see what I would have looked like as a colored woman. (This is another subconscious reference to ancient Egypt, where only gods and people who had achieved their divine flesh were portrayed with black faces.)

As in my last lucid dream, I fly around the left side of the mirror. Somehow, I end up in front of a long and tall white walls which for some reason I feel I have to climb rather than fly over. I’m not alone; there are several other women standing in this narrow corridor between these pure white walls. The women are all attractive, I notice, dressed in form-fitting outfits of various colors, and very briefly, in passing, I entertain the possibility of becoming a little more intimate with one of them, but the impulse vanishes almost the instant it arises. We’re all intent on scaling the white walls, and suddenly I wonder why the hell we can’t just fly over them, at which point I do just that. Other women follow me up, but one of them is more concerned with me, in fact, she’s attacking me; before I know it, she’s bitten the right side of my neck. I push her away and prevent her from coming near me again, I have the power to do so, and I can’t believe it when she complains to the others about my aggressive behavior. “Are you kidding?” I say. “You’re the one who bit my neck!”

Wanting to just get out of there, I fly Superman style straight up toward the ceiling, intending to go through it. I penetrate it easily, but suddenly I have no desire to make the effort to go through this white material which is like no material known to waking reality, a pure white that is both a solid and a liquid, dense and yet no more substantial than fog, impossible to describe.I don’t feel like struggling with it in this particular lucid dream and I reverse direction, the only problem is, the ceiling follows me down, collapsing, as it were, around me. I’m surprised, this has never happened before in a lucid dream. There’s no getting away from it, I’m pushed down and engulfed in this impossible substance pinning me beneath it. I’ve never had a lucid dream end on a negative note before, and have no intention of waking up at this point. Picking myself up, I don’t fight the substance in which I find myself but instead attempt to transform it into pure potential, to visualize its infinite white as separate points of light akin to all the stars in the universe and all other possible universes, willing myself into the light so that a faint golden glow begins very faintly suffusing my white “prison.”

Then abruptly I’m whisked away from there, carried out of there by a force cradling me from behind that propels me, if I have to describe it with words, at the speed of light. And I see light not far below me in the form of a golden electricity illuminating a diner/cafe/bar with glass walls very much reminiscent of the painting Night Owls. At the same time I distinctly hear a voice, that comes from so close behind me it’s ostensibly inside me, tell me, “You can have anything you want.” This voice/telepathic communication is different from that of other dream characters, it is a presence in itself and what it tells me rings with the truth of revelation. Almost impossible to put into words the intensity and depth of what I felt cradled, embraced, rescued by this “force” propelling me forward while at the same time “settling” me inside the cafe’s golden light at a small round table while explaining (I paraphrase) “It can’t (ever) be defined, the mistake is to try, because if It could be (so contained) It wouldn’t be what It is.” It’s not like I’m being told something I don’t already know, it’s as though the knowledge is now mysteriously branded into my soul by this voice, which verifies what I already knew intellectually in a visceral way that will somehow free me in the future as it freed me from that engulfing “milky” substance.

I suffer a false awakening in which our bed is outside on a dark, quiet residential street. Lying there remembering my lucid dream, I’m facing a gray mailbox shaped like a cow’s head that turns and looks at me; it’s alive. (Another reference to ancient Egypt.) I think it very curious, it’s like a mailbox in a dream, and yet I’m awake, I know I am. Stinger isn’t in bed, and suddenly I see he’s gotten Arthur out of his cage even though it’s still dark out. “Why did you wake him up?” I cry, “it’s not morning yet!” at which point the stress wakes me up for real.