October 18, 2013
I: Lunar Lovemaking
I’m lucid and aware of lying in a bedroom on a bed and of a man sitting in a chair before one of the several windows. Everything is tinged a blue-white as though bathed in moonlight. There is a soft white light outside the windows that also seems part of the room. I reach out to him as he gets up. He is turning away as though preparing to fly out the window. “No, come here, please!” I beg, and the act of him walking back toward the bed roots me in the dream and lucidity. He says, “You know he can’t” and I feel he’s talking about one of my Guides, who can’t be with me like this. I understand, and also somehow know that he can be with me in place of my Guide. I’m still holding my arms out to him, pleading with him to come to me. I need him to make love to me. He is a slender attractive man with a distinct look to him. His hair and face are both pale in the light from the windows. Looking intently at me, he quickly walks around the foot of the bed toward me as he warns, “I’m not going to be gentle.” He looks serious but of course I’m not frightened, and deep down I think he might be teasing me because he knows I have liked it rough in the past. I look down, very aware of my breasts, smooth and round as they swell partially out of a bodice as he kisses them both ardently and admires them, saying something like, “Oh, look at these…”
My memory of what follows is broken up into vivid highlights punctuating a flowing sense of sensual contact and gradually deepening in intimacy… We prepare to kiss, our faces very close, but at the last moment I seem to shy away… We’re sitting together on the edge of the bed. He’s no longer wearing a shirt and I’m curiously fingering his necklace. It consists of two long, thin, and somewhat stiff cords that somehow relate to what he’s telling me: He has no memory of the different lives he has lived, of the different people he has been, as though he’s been wiped clean. I sympathize; this is quite terrible. “But aren’t we our memories?” I ask, because memory is everything. He seems to be enduring a penance imposed on him for some reason. And yet I know he is a also somehow a soul worthy of working with, or for, one of my Guides. His slender pale chest contrasts with the dark and sharp, almost like barbed wire, or fine thorns, of his “necklace”. He rises and walks over toward a couch. I get up and follow him as he sits down and watches me approach. I wonder how excited he really is about making love to an older woman, but of course, I remind myself, I’m in my dream body, which has the power to look as lovely as I feel. I’m very aware of wearing only a skimpy top as, beneath his unwavering regard, I embrace the knowledge that my attractive powers are never diminished except by my own thinking. I get on the couch with him and he lies back across it, his eyes never leaving me. I obligingly pull off his sand-colored pants and, kneeling over him, study is long lean pale naked body. His shoulders, chest, waist and hips are nearly all the same width, as though he is not fully formed, and yet at the same time his extreme slenderness is proportional and pleasing to look at. He obviously wants me to ride him but this has never been my favorite sexual position. So of course it makes sense this is what he is making me do. I straddle him and position him to slip him inside me, but his desire seems to be slackening as I do so, and I’m afraid I’m not turning him on. At that moment it hits me, as he smiles up at me, that this whole experience is a series of tests in which to pass I have to confront and overcome all my various insecurities. It all feels perfectly real as I begin phasing out of the dream.
I think perhaps the thorny nature of the necklace worn by my dream lover relates to the crown of thorns placed on Christ’s head by those who crucified him. I was having many thoughts before I went to sleep, and one of them was about Christ and how the image of him hanging on the cross was created centuries after his death by the church and is at odds with the spirit of his words and resurrection. A lifetime is akin to a rose that blooms and dies and the pains, the sorrows we suffer in it are the thorns. Our Inner Self/Consciousness wears all our earthly incarnations like a necklace against Its heart.
I have reason to believe the man in my dreams is a real person I am acquainted with in waking reality and that I interacted with a piece of his consciousness. I may even have pulled part of him to me, for in the beginning of the dream I begged him to stay in my room, in my dream space. He does not remember the encounter and yet he possessed a presence my experience with dream sharing has taught me indicates he was not a projection of my mind.
II: Lion Love
I get ready to exit a building with broad corridors. Wide double doors open as I approach them. It’s night outside but I’m still able to discern a lioness reclining in the darkness on a low stone wall only a few feet away. I immediately turn around and hurry back inside. I turn left around the corner as I warn someone, “Don’t go outside, there’s a lion out there!” I worry that the doors stay open behind me for several moments before finally closing. I enter a dark room that feels like it belongs to me. It isn’t a bedroom or an office, but I’m not really aware of the furnishings because my attention is all on the lioness I can see still reclining on the ledge outside. And I know she can also see me through the long glass window. I also know now that this is a dream and that I’m not going to run because I have to face her. I know she can’t really hurt me even though I can’t stop her from entering the room. So I just stand there as she jumps onto the window ledge and passes through the glass barrier as though it isn’t even there. She comes to stand beside me in the dark space and I put my hand on her head. “I love you,” I tell her, and she slinks around me in a warm, friendly manner as I declare, “You’re so beautiful!” at which point she falls onto her back like an ecstatic dog or kitten. Now it’s a male lion and I bend down to scratch its silky, furry belly and caress its mane, repeating, “You’re so beautiful! So beautiful!” We’re shamelessly wallowing in appreciation of each other, filled with a joyful, scarcely containable energy. And as I pet this big gorgeous lion, I wonder what it would be like to be a lion myself. Even as I consider trying to assume the form of a lion, I seem to see and feel my hands transforming into large, fluffy paws as our mutual ardor increases. Now it’s almost like I’m having sex with him as a lioness, only we’re doing it human style, facing each other, although all I feel is a glowing and arousing friction against my sex.
Abruptly, there is more light and I realize there is a man below me now who is screaming at the top of his lungs, his face red with exertion as he looks away from me toward whatever invisible aggressor is tormenting him. The tendons in his neck are extended as though he’s in terrible pain or suffering some kind of horrible torture. His fear and agony have nothing to do with me; he doesn’t even seem aware of me. I ask, “What’s wrong with you?” and notice my surroundings along with two other men hovering nearby. We’re all in some kind of normally lit apartment and I hear what sounds like a radio station, and a male voice I clearly distinguish talking about “double agents” and what can be done about them. I know I will clearly remember the term “double agent” when I wake up, and that it relates to dream characters or people who appear to be one thing and then another. There is a general air of confusion that almost amounts to chaos as the two men urgently tell me to call a train for them. I get up and clap my hands loudly two or three times. “Okay, everybody out of here!” I command. They look at me oddly, as though taken aback, but I’ve lost all patience. “You’re the most frustrating dream characters ever,” I tell them, conscious that I sound a little like a petulant teenager. “Just go away!” I shoo them out of there and slowly lose the dream.
My encounter with the lioness-lion evokes the Tarot Card entitled Strength:
Self-confidence, the power of conviction, patience, wisdom, courage, gentleness, and harnessing instinctive desires. Empowerment by way of faith in yourself.
I see the lioness as an expression of my inner Self, full of Divine love and power and always hunting for everything it desires and needs to thrive and grow.
III: An Attack
I’m walking down a crowded city street in broad daylight when I see a man in black robes running straight toward me, his arms stretched urgently out before him. “Help me! Help me!” he begs. “You can heal me! You can heal me! You’re my healer!” I already know I’m dreaming and, hurrying over to him, I slip a supportive arm around his shoulders. I become rooted in the dream scene as I help him walk quickly in the direction he had been running. I’m trying to understand what happened to him… I lead him to temporary refuge against a wall. He’s now wearing a thin hospital robe as he crouches down, weak and helpless. He’s confused; he can’t seem to understand where his pants went. I leave him there in search of something, perhaps his possessions. I seem to be walking on rocky, sandy cliffs.I remain conscious of being in a dream, and yet I also act as though I’ve woken up and am telling someone about this lucid dream, broadcasting what I’m seeing as though communicating via a hidden microphone. I tell my contact how real everything looks, that it’s like watching a huge screen TV, but not really because everything is in 3D and absolutely true to life.
I watch troops climb and assemble on the upper level of a metal structure protecting a large compound. They’re all lining up there in preparation for something, overlooking the open white concrete of what might be the tarmac of a large airbase or simply desert. I inform my invisible audience, “It’s so realistic! I can’t see their faces because the sun is behind them.” The troops are in full uniform, and suddenly I know it’s wrong to call them troops because they don’t look like American military uniforms. Their uniforms are slightly different; they look and feel foreign to me, and there is a distinct circular dark-green patch on their sleeves. Many of the men are holding rifles, and they are all wearing caps of some kind.
After waking from my final lucid of the night, I Googled key words and found a breaking news story about Afghan insurgents attacking a residential foreign compound. The International Security Assistance Force was called in and their uniforms, logo patches and caps exactly matched the ones of the troops I saw in my dream.
As I was leading away the man in the black robe, taking him somewhere, ostensibly to safety, I was suddenly alone, without any sense of my own body, observing the scene. I feel he may have been one of the two fatalities cited in the news report. I have read, and believe this to be true, that when people die abruptly and violently, they don’t always realize they are dead, out of their physical body, and dreamers are sometimes “called” to assist them, or they just mysteriously happen to be around. It’s not the first time I’ve had a similar experience in a lucid dream. It’s curious the victim recognized me as someone who might be able to help him.
A dreamer on the forum Mortal Mist, where I post my dreams, commented, “Could be the fact that you’ve had a similar experience made him recognize you as a healer/helper” which I think is an interesting possibility.