Flowering Tree Canopy

November 19, 2012

I go and visit someone who lives on a pleasant suburban street. I recline on an outdoor seat and rest there. The sky is curiously overcast, more to the left than the right, but the clouds are tinged with orange-gold, not dark storm clouds. The atmosphere is hazy, still, not my preferred weather but I’m okay with being there for a while. I sit motionless gazing around me, content, completely aware and yet utterly relaxed. A man sits down on my right, apologizing for disturbing me, and I tell him it’s quite all right. He describes how he’s always busy doing things, never sits still, and I confess to being the same away, always working on something except for in the evening when I watch a movie. The contrast to the deep meditative state he found me in to how I usually behave is quite astonishing, and I make note of it as a good thing.

I’m perhaps peeking out the window again and as I lean over to do so, a small brightly painted wooden bird turns it’s head to look at me. I am amazed! “How do you hear me?” I exclaim. It doesn’t reply but the answer to me feels like the very heart, the secret, of the universe, of all existence. This miracle is not little, it is everything. Difficult to put into words. An inanimate object is aware! I conclude with feelings rather than thought that there is no such thing as lifeless matter, that all substance is mysteriously aware. (I think now how I phrased the question “How DO you hear me” not “How CAN you hear me” is significant.)

I twirl around watching a small golden butterfly flitting around me and reaching up, it alights on my right fingertips. I quickly ascend a pedestal of sorts and show the Native American woman standing there, who turns to face me, my animal totem, which flies away again. I see that she too has a butterfly totem, the same size as mine but a bright jewel-like blue. I experience a pang of jealousy, because the yellow one seems more common, and I wonder at how she is able to keep the butterfly perched on her fingers, and actually wonder if she’s using some kind of harmless glue in order to make it seem like the butterfly is remaining with her willingly.

I’m deep in a video game quest. I am my awareness and the character at the same time in a disembodied first person sense. I’m running to escape multiple pursuers and when the turn-style in the train station doesn’t light up and let me pass through it, I leap over it and run down the steps to the platform, but at once I realize the train sitting on the tracks is still and dark, not active in this quest, so I run back up the steps and turn right to run up another set of stairs leading to the exit. Before the line of glass doors I pause over the scene deciding which one is best but my pursuers, all wearing dark suits, are right there and neither door is free of them. I laugh as my intent seems to take the form of a ceramic baking dish I move toward one of the doors as though putting it in the oven, and out I go! My pursuers right on my heels, I begin scaling the building Assassin’s Creed style, making it all the way to the top, bright white molding, where I sit down as my intent sends my character racing invisibly across the roof top too swiftly for his enemies to catch him.

At this point I separate myself from the character, releasing it, and doing so is synonymous with the knowledge that I’m dreaming. Amused by the foiled men crowding the space I’m perched on, I rise and fly away happily, adopting a relaxed Superman pose. I feel as though I could wake up, that my hold on the dream is tentative, so I pat my breasts, my preferred deepening technique, and stay calm as I move forward. The clean, pleasant city street directly below me is obscured by the branches of a vast tree, one of which I distinctly feel scrape my left arm as vividly as in WR, a fact I wonder about. It seems to be getting my attention and instead of trying to find my way through its branches I linger there, pleased by the lush beauty of the large white flowers adorning its long boughs, white flowers with multiple layers of petals and a wide flat blue heart (as best I can describe it) composed of small circles of the color I somehow remember as being separate and yet also one. The blue is dark and yet light at the same time. I descend a little and rest on my back in mid air coasting very slowly beneath this vast, sprawling tree canopy in full bloom. The flowers all hang down facing me. It’s wonderful here, lovely, but eventually I fly out from beneath the tree and over the canopy of the forested area I now find myself in. It’s dark and I see no stars, only the silhouettes of leafy trees below me. I ask the dream to take me to ancient Egypt during the Old Kingdom. I keep flying slowly forward through the darkness above the trees and the dream fades.

A false awakening. Back in the rec room where several young looking women are eating at TV tables on the couch. I understand that they were in my lucid dream; they became lucid on that roof top just as I did. This is important, my first shared lucid dream, but at the moment I am occupied with the urgent task of recording the dream, for which I fetch my iPod, surprised it’s still almost fully charged even though I haven’t used it in weeks. There is a man in the room and I describe the flowers blooming on the tree in detail and he tells me, quite certain of his identification, what they are. Unfortunately, he gives me the Latin name, which consists of three words, and I can’t remember it at all. I wake up for real.

Dream Notes: I must come up with new lucid dream intents. It’s my own fault I woke because I’ve already tried the “take me to ancient Egypt in the time of” phrasing several times. I need to let that intent go for now and come up with fresh ones. I’m glad I was doing nothing in the dream where I reclined outside. I have no projects left to work on. Time to relax and just be for a while without feeling pressured to keep working, even if that work is creative. Don’t quite know what to make of the butterfly totem and the blooming tree except that they feel good, positive.

Loving a Black Dragon

March 15, 2012
I’m inside a one-story building that feels rather like a shop. Two or three men are talking about the man outside who has brought them something, laughing; they intend to lure him inside and kill him. I don’t want to be there and head to a back door that looks out on the city sidewalk. I see the man they refer to, in full Nord warrior Skyrim attire, waiting for them just outside the main entrance, directly to my left. I sneak out but when he strides in my direction I sneak back in and stand in a corner, willing myself invisible.

I end up outside on the streets when suddenly I hear the roar of an approaching dragon and feel the world vibrate around me, the way the XBOX controller does when a dragon begins its attack. I head back toward the building I just left because I don’t have any weapons on me. I can hear the dragon snuffling after me, stalking me, and I can’t walk fast enough; I move forward at a painfully slow rate as though gravity is ten times thicker here. It’s frustrating and frightening because I can hear and feel the dragon gaining on me, it’s just behind me! Somehow I make it to the main entrance just in time, a glass door I close but then quickly open again to let my dogie inside. I can see the dragon now, slinking along the ground, entirely black and determined to get me. I think I’m safe as I head down the corridor, until I hear the door open and realize it’s followed me inside! I had no idea dragons could do that!

I hurry to the rear of the building and run back outside and along the sidewalks, looking for a doorway, some place to stand with my bow and arrow. I’m relieved to see a handful of citizens are also equipped with bows they use against the dragon, which I desperately search for in the sky, but I can’t spot it even though I can hear it getting closer and closer, that roaring-snuffling that’s so unnerving. I’m amazed because I had no idea this could happen in the game, that dragons could behave this way, and even the setting is different, a modern city. The dragon isn’t in the sky, it’s still on the ground, and heading straight toward me! I let fly a few arrows, but most of them fall short and I can’t back away fast enough. It’s getting closer and closer, it’s absolutely huge, and a sword won’t work against it and I see no way of escaping it! Desperately, I hold up the controller and press the button for my Unrelenting Force Shout, but by the time it goes off, the controller is in the dragon’s mouth and the shout goes off inside it. I dare to hope that might hurt it, but it doesn’t.

The black dragon’s massive head and jaw are right in front of me now and it’s speaking to me in that deep, rumbling, barely intelligible way some Skyrim dragons do, taunting me. I drop my arms to my sides and lower my head, surrendering to the inevitable. I stand there waiting for it to grab me in its jaws and devour me, thinking that I’ll simply reload to an earlier save in the game. Nevertheless, the sinking sensation, what I feel as I surrender to the gruesome inevitable, is not pleasant. And yet the dragon bides it’s time, playing with me. It says something about how I should caress it’s snout, nuzzle up against it, if I dare, and I’m compelled to obey it even though it’s terrifying. I caress it’s black snout, waiting for it to snap my hand off, but it’s seems to be relishing tormenting me. And then something nearly impossible to put into words happens… I dare to enjoy the sensation of snuggling up to it’s ferocious snout and the velvety warm feel of its skin. I still expect it to consume me any second now, and yet… I begin to understand what it’s telling me… he’s really a man who was transformed into this fierce creature and he’s not the only one, all dragons like him are truly noble men forced to endure nothing but the cold hard sensation of scales, to know nothing else until someone releases them from this enchantment. There’s a crowd of people gathered around me and the dragon, which I now have absolutely no desire to let go of. How to describe the deep, warm contentment, the profound love I felt for this fierce black and deadly creature? I think about asking someone if it’s safe to let my naked sex come into contact with its slightly rough skin, but it’s a mute point because I’m already straddling the upper part of the dragon’s back as it slowly takes off. I ask it if I can grab it by the scruff of the neck and it says I can, but instead I lean forward and wrap my arms around its powerful neck. It says something, almost humorously, about watching out for its bandage, as we rise higher into the sky. I’m riding a dragon and its wonderful! I can still feel its body between my bare legs and the wonder of realizing it wants me there on its back, that its power was designed to hold me and that it needs me as much as I want to be with it.

I look around me at the buildings, streets and people as a beautiful music sung by a woman’s almost too lovely voice fills the world. The whole city is rejoicing at the sight of me riding the dragon, which means we’re all saved, and more. This is an event of joyous, transcendent proportions. I observe that the game is beginning to feel more like a cartoon as the sky turns pink and flowers flow in garlands around me. Then I’m hovering over a large bed in a large chamber. The bed is surrounded by a rejoicing crowd and and the dragon and I are sitting up beneath white sheets and a blue coverlet. Then the dragon takes the form of the little boy the enchanted man once was. I see him standing on the right side of the bed, ankle-length curling golden hair framing him, hair that is also an intricately gilded cloak or shell of sorts. He’s glimmering with magic and framed rather like statues of the Virgin Mary inside a shell, but I clearly distinguish his little boy’s freckled face in the midst of all this blue-and-gold splendor. In the foreground, right in front of my disembodied awareness, there’s a toy-sized cage in which an evil force is trapped in the form of a crab-like creature. I ask my betrothed if we can take it with us to remind us of our childhood.

I sent this dream to my family and then this response to their collective comments: Yes, the dream is extremely allegorical. Nothing turns the dragon into anything. The dragon is darkness, death, destruction, all things that appear bad but really aren’t because they’re part of the magical process of incarnation and, as such, a part of God, and not realizing that is what makes them seem dangerous and evil. The fact that all dragons are really men means we all have the power to dispel our worst fears because God lives inside us. The crab relates to the moon (the sign of Cancer) and the moon is allied to our physical bodies, which absorb Divine energy or light but are nothing without it. The cage, as a toy, is the limits of mortal life, which is a school, in a way. And so on and so forth!

I feel deeply honored to have had this dream, the rich, archetypal imagery of which, especially toward the end, seems expressive of an important milestone in my spiritual growth.