Lucid Gang

Note: My thoughts and feelings have evolved, in some cases quite dramatically, since I began lucid dreaming nearly five years ago. For example, in the Dream Notes that follow many of my earlier lucid dreams, you will find me considering possible past lives as an explanation for some of my experiences. I no longer believe in reincarnation, and this change came about as a result of some of my most powerful dreams. I am now waiting a year, or longer, before I post my lucid dreams, one at time, in chronological order. This means I now have a backlog of approximately sixty lucid dreams.

Dream of September 4, 2014

Night time. From inside a very large and dark building, I lead two men into a dark, tree-filled garden. I’m dreaming of being lucid in a dream. It’s odd, but I seem to be lucidly observing the lucidity of my dream self. I sense the men came with me reluctantly, and that they don’t know why I brought them outside in the middle of the night. I ask them, “Want to go flying?” They do not, so I leave them behind as I soar up into the star-filled sky. At the same time, I’m conscious of being back inside the building, thinking about how I can do things differently so the two men will better understand we’re dreaming. I decide it won’t work either way, and permit my dreaming awareness to fly really fast through the trees in the darkness. I know they won’t get in my way as I surrender to a strong pull toward the road I know lies outside the grounds of the building.

The road below me glows a dim white, and is deserted. I’m flying in a standing position, at a sedate pace, in the direction of vague golden lights that aren’t far away, and which I sense belong to some small city square. I feel I may have flown off into the starry sky if the dream hadn’t pulled me in this direction. As I glide along, I experience a strange excitement that prompts me to laugh beneath my breath.

Very soon, I clearly distinguish the figure of a slender man hovering a few feet over the road, flying in a standing position just like me, but in the opposite direction. He also sees me, and I study him intently as we slowly converge, then begin orbiting each other. I identify him as another lucid dreamer, but I want to know what his intentions are; what he’s planning to do in the dream space. Our conversation is telepathic (at least I don’t recall any words being spoken) and his responses disappoint me, although they don’t surprise me. It seems that, for him, being lucid is all about having sex, and power.

Suddenly, I’m afraid this dreamer may be a member of the “lucid gang” that walks out of the darkness, heading straight for the town walls behind me. I seem to know they are all lucid dreamers returning from some seriously selfish fun. Their leader has light hair and, as he passes by me, all he has to do is look at me for me to know he just raped, and devoured, a little girl, literally. Another telepathic exchange of communication occurs in which I let him know just how I feel about lucid dreamers like them.

Abruptly, as I stare at this terrible person, I distinguish the faint but unmistakable outlines of a little’s girl’s head inside his belly—her entire body is inside him, and she is still alive. I don’t even think about it; I immediately reach toward her and say, “Come out, sweetie! You can do it! This is a dream, and nothing can hurt you here!” She apparently hears me, because she emerges, stepping out of the man. I hug her thin little body, and tell the man, iron in my voice, “She belongs to me. In the dream space she is under my protection now. Do you understand?”

Holding the little girl in my arms, I enter something resembling an empty elevator shaft, and begin ascending at a steady pace, rising up through a misty gray atmosphere, up and up away from that dangerous “lucid gang.” I sense they will not, because they cannot, follow me, but I desire to put as much space between them, and us, as possible. I don’t really know where this shaft-like vertical tunnel will take us, or even how long it is, but I soon come to a ledge that leads us into a large, open space. Here I become aware of a man with dark hair, and wearing dark clothes, who is accompanying me in order to help us. The space I’m in now seems to be the top floor – almost like an enclosed roof – of a large building with windows lining one side.

I watch as the man smashes a hole in the window directly across from where I’m standing on the opposite side of the room. More telepathic communication, although it’s already obvious to me that he’s helping us find a way out. But the glass is resistant, and the hole he made is not yet large enough for us to fly through. He consults with a woman to my right, who is also aiding us, and who temporarily takes charge of the little girl for me as I walk over to the window. For some reason, I lie down on my back in front of it, looking up at it.

When we first entered the space, I wondered why this window posed a barrier, why I couldn’t simply fly through the roof and away, since this was a dream. But for some reason, that isn’t possible, so I continue the man’s work of trying to create a hole big enough to fly through. I reach behind me, pick up a nice big chunk of ice, and throw it as hard as I can against the loose section of icy glass hanging from the top left side of the window. I succeed in hitting it, but it only weakens the section a little bit more without dislodging it. I repeat this procedure three or four times, even though each time the ice-rock I use bounces back toward me, and I risk being struck hard by it myself. Eventually, there is a large enough hole in the glass for all of us to fly through.

We fly down to the ground outside the building. The man is holding a phone, and I see, close up, his fingers pressing down on the circular numbers without any effect. He says, “It doesn’t work.”

I take the phone from him impatiently. “Of course it does, this is a dream and we can make it work.” I dial the man we’re trying to reach – the man who raped and devoured the little girl I rescued. I hear him pick up on the other end, where I sense he is leading a discussion. I warn him, “This is about a little girl…” He replies, “Oh-oh” but he doesn’t actually sound concerned. I wake.

Dream Notes:

Seeking counsel from the Gospels about this dream, and about the book I feel the Lord wants me to write Lucid Dreams and the Holy Spirit, I randomly opened the New Testament to this passage:

“And in the synagogue there was a man who had the spirit of an unclean demon and he cried out in a great voice: Ha. What is there between us and you, Jesus of Nazareth? Did you come to destroy us? I know you, who you are, God’s holy one. Jesus reproved him, saying, ‘Be silent and go out of him.’ And the demon flung him down in their midst and came out of him, without doing him any harm.” Luke 4:33-35

This struck me as an uncanny mirror image of my dream, in which the little girl emerged, unharmed, from the demon-like man who had consumed her.

This is not the first time I have encountered and banished “demons” as well as protected/rescued people in the dream space. In fact, this happens regularly. 

Quantum Touch, Goddesses & Sex Demon

September 11, 2012
I’m in what feels like a cart riding with Stinger, returning to a city (from the earlier lucid dream?) but at a busy intersection we come to the attention of a police officer, as though we’ve broken some invisible rule. The cop is after me so, already lucid, I rise up into the sky to get away from him. It’s a sunny day and as I go up and up at a leisurely pace, not sure how high up I have to get to shake pursuit, I see blue buildings with gold trim to my left and around me, pretty, terracotta feel, maybe, but still I wonder where the heck they’ll come to an end and I’ll reach open sky. I’ve shaken the law but unfortunately I’ve lost Stinger. I’m alone in this dream city. I descend gradually, and recline across a yellow and orange striped awning for a moment, looking around curiously. The atmosphere is bright, pleasant, and I realize the awning belongs to an ice cream shop! I descend and walk into the shady establishment, intending to fulfill the intent of experimenting with taste in a lucid dream. Happily I ask for chocolate ice cream and the female owner promptly hands me a stick or wand of solid chocolate wreathed with vanilla ice cream staying put in defiance of gravity. Okay, this will do! I walk out licking it and can definitely taste it but the experience is not as vivid and sensual as in waking reality.

I don’t remember how I end up in a small, shadowy classroom surrounded by other women and facing our female instructor. She’s asking if anyone can tell her the nature or meaning of the double female deity Atem and Atheim. I somehow know they are the two principle goddesses of the city I was just in with the blue buildings. I can see in my mind’s eye two ancient looking terracotta or stone figurines, simply carved, a little stiff, a tan-gold-brown color, with Atem on the left and right next to her Atheim, two separate figures but really one goddess. I know the answer and am eager to give it and my knowing is somehow related to my lucidity; the other women look absolutely clueless. The instructor lets me give the answer: “It’s about one, a person who, through the physical body (Atem), accesses the divine (Atheim).” I know there’s no other way, that Atheim and Atem are a process of consciousness, that without going through Atem, Atheim cannot be attained or realized. The instructor tells the class, “That’s the best definition of Atem and Atheim I’ve ever heard” and counsels everyone to remember it.

I’m in a cart riding with Stinger again telling him about Atem and Atheim and he gets really upset with me, moving up to the front of the cart, tears in his eyes, because I believe he doesn’t understand; that I don’t give him credit for also knowing the meaning. I realize he’s right, that because he’s a scientist I don’t give him enough credit for comprehending-feeling mystical truth.

I’m inside a building, in a narrow room or corridor, sitting and talking to a woman, maybe Mami. I’m perfectly lucid. I know this dream has gone on for a long time so there will probably be holes in the action when I try to remember it in waking reality, but that’s a small price to pay for how wonderful it is to be so lucid for so long. I can’t remember what we were talking about, unfortunately. I notice a stray brown dog approaching along the white corridor and decide to go (back) to the more open area beyond it. I pick up two cow tendon chew bones and open the door. Mami follows me. The room is large, with a slightly elevated area to the right looking down on the rest of the space, and yet it’s all white, hard to describe, as though it really has no fixed dimensions. There are more women there and also a whole pack of those small stray brown feral-looking dogs. I find it amusing we left our private corridor because of two dogs only to be surrounded by them. One latches onto my arm as I hand out the two chew bones, which aren’t enough, of course, but I’m not in the least bit afraid.

Shaking my arm free, I rise calmly into the air and hover above the pack. Idly, I point my right index finger at one dog and intend a glimmering ray of offensive energy toward it, which works in that the creature appears affected by it and backs off slightly, but suddenly I know that’s not the right approach, not what I truly want to do. I take a deep breath beginning in my belly and rising up to the base of my throat, practicing the breathing technique of Quantum Touch. I do this three times feeling myself filling up with an energy I see as a blue “force” rising up into me and flowing down into the palms of my hands that are already warm; I distinctly feel how warm my palms are. Holding my hands palm down I “broadcast” a blue-white-shimmering-light-energy down at the dogs and everyone in the room. Of course it doesn’t hurt the animals or the people, on the contrary; they’re all “bathing” in it happily. I do it again, and again, thrilled with the act of spreading healing energy freely over everyone because, of course, there’s no end to it as its flow so freely through me. I have to remind myself to direct a little of it back into my own body even though it doesn’t feel necessary; I’m already filled with it.

I return to the other smaller space. I’m feeling aroused. Standing in the center of the room, I ask for the lead singer of Filter, as he was in his prime, careful to be as detailed as possible in my conjuration. I’m intending him to take form there before me, dressed all in black. “Are you there?” I ask even as I don’t see anything but I can seem to feel him. I lean against a window and imagine being taken from behind. There is pleasure and sensation but it’s all too much my imagination. Then I look at the reflection and behind me discern a coalescing darkness, a silhouette forming. I’m thrilled my conjuration appears to be working! Then I distinctly feel something grip my right hip, a real sensation as opposed to the ones I was imagining. My elation is short lived as it occurs to me that I invited a shady character into my dream; gave a hostile force an opening by selfishly attempting to fashion a dream lover. Sure enough, I appear to be in the grips of a black “demon” with a young man’s handsome face but black tentacles that are growing in definition and strength. There seems no way to escape the encroaching darkness trapping me in it but I remain perfectly calm. I look the thing in the face and say, “I could wake up now” (as a means of escape) “but I’m proving a point here.” I fill myself with the blue-white energy of Quantum Touch and it effortlessly rids me of the clinging, threatening blackness. It stumbles weakly away in the form of a brown-skinned man who appears stunned. “Get out of here,” I command. “Go on, out with you!” We’re standing next to a window, but he can’t seem to coordinate his limbs so I raise the window and, with a bit of effort, hoist him out of the room. Watching him fall several stories and hit the pavement, I wonder if his physical body died in waking reality when his dream form made impact. I hope not, and think it probably didn’t.

Still in a room of that place. Mami or some other woman asks me what time my plane leaves for Paris and abruptly I realize I’ve been having so much fun thinking about everything I’ve done in my lucid dreams, how meaningful it all is, that I barely have time to make it to the airport in time. My plane leaves at 6:00 and it’s already 5:20! I run out of there, encountering odd vehicles directly outside the building, none of which is the cab I seek. I end up sitting on a bench waiting for a cab until I wake.

Dream Note: This dream speaks for itself. Awesome. And, of course, I live in Paris, Virginia. I seemed to have been sensing it was time to wake up. Maybe if I’d deliberately woken myself up sooner, I would have remembered a few more sections of this incredibly long lucid dream.