The Lucid Dream Exchange
Many women who’ve experienced the ―joys of pre-menopause, and gradually crossed the dreaded threshold into the third phase of a woman’s life (so flatteringly termed The Crone) have been confronted with the option of whether or not to undergo Hormone Replacement Therapy, HRT. There are all sorts of health risks associated with this treatment, although many doctors say that’s no longer the case and that the new and improved version is actually good for you. Personally, I feel natural physical changes shouldn’t be fought tooth-and-claw; there’s a reason for these profound transformations that should be welcomed and cherished for all they have to offer. With that said, it was no fun when an ax abruptly fell that severed my mind from my sex drive in a way I never would have believed possible. The climate of my soul underwent a radical change—it was like being transported from the Amazon rainforest to the Sahara dessert at night where I stood beneath a cold star-filled sky, glorying in it. After decades of Hurricane Hormone that lessened to a tropical storm and then a tropical depression, I wholeheartedly embraced the sudden, wonderful peace along with my deepening spirituality. Problem was, I also stopped fervently embracing my husband. Although yoga and healthy eating had kept me feeling as good as I did before the change, they failed to reignite the spark that was blown out of my libido.
Fortunately, as I crossed the threshold into menopause I also began lucid dreaming as a spiritual practice. I’ve always believed in the power of thought to directly influence my circumstances, both external and internal. Convinced as I am that Mind (Consciousness) is everything, I saw no reason to entrust the magical quantum realm of my hormones to the crude mechanics of modern medicine, which normally merely treats symptoms with substances that often cause a host of other health problems. I love my husband and I knew that unless I planned to catch the HRT flight, I had to find another way off my peaceful but lonely island. Lucid Dreams proved to be the ticket.
In one dream, my husband is wearing a black robe and reclining on a bed in a hotel room, where a gorgeous young woman is standing before a large mirror with a wooden frame. She’s talking to him as she begins wrapping her perfect body in brown latex-like tape (like a mummy) unrolling broad swathes of it and beginning over her belly, which is a little puffy because she recently gave birth. I watch them from where I’m standing in a doorway and the woman keeps glancing knowingly at me. I smile back at her as though she poses no threat to me; as though I’m not jealous of her youth and voluptuous beauty. She’s totally aware of her power and is teasing my husband with it. As I watch, he gets up and brushes something off her shoulder solicitously, completely ignoring my presence. But that’s okay because now I know I’m dreaming and can walk away, which I do, feeling furious. I’m not like that woman, I don’t want to be like her, and if that’s what my husband expects, we can’t be together anymore. He appears beside me and I say angrily, ―I want a divorce! We can’t keep living in this gray zone anymore! I refuse to live in this gray zone anymore! But then suddenly we’re walking through a city at night, past pleasant outdoor cafes, hip-to-hip, our arms around each others waists, totally in love and happy to be together. I ask, ―Are we really getting a divorce? And he replies, ―I don’t know, we’ll see. It feels totally wrong to be leaving each other when we’re still so very much in love. I tell him I saw him with that other woman and say, ―It’s not right the way you made me feel, as invisible as a toad on a rock while she was around!
It took me a few days to stop feeling angry and to grasp the message of the dream—I’m the princess not the toad. The woman before the mirror is me as my husband sees me. The me standing on a threshold is the negative self-image I developed of myself when I suddenly became a fifty-year-old menopausal woman for whom the mirror is fast becoming an enemy. And yet, in truth, I’m increasingly wrapped up in exciting mystery to my husband, who makes it abundantly clear that he loves and desires me as much as he always did. How he treated the gorgeous woman in the dream is how he treats me in reality. My body’s physical changes have given birth inside me to a new and deeper sense of self, which is a good thing. When I told my husband about the dream, and what I had learned from it, he was so happy. He also remarked on the clever way my Inner Self used fairy tales to enlighten me (the mirror Snow White and the toad The Frog Prince) making use of the same imagery that influenced me as a child, and subconsciously caused me to identify with the ugly witch/crone when I grew older. It’s one thing to think something and another thing entirely to have your thought processes embodied in a living world.
In another important dream, I step outside onto a balcony of sorts. There’s a ledge on my left and I see that I’m really high up as I glimpse city streets far below. I marvel at how lucid I am. In fact, I’m so lucid I might actually be awake, which makes it a bad idea to jump off the building and fly. Instead I enter a dark room, where I see myself reflected in several mirrors. In these mirrors I look like myself morphed with a dark-haired, sensual young woman, Middle-Eastern in appearance, who is naked except for shimmering strips of jewelry. As I watch, she undulates her hands in front of her face as though in a dance.
That same night I become lucid again and find myself back in that shadowy bedroom with this woman who is me even though she looks slightly different; her voluptuous body makes me think of a Bodhisattva. This luscious me is no longer confined by mirrors where she kneels, cat-like and naked, at the foot of a bed. I/she possesses an incredible head of hair, black and heavy and somewhat kinky, barely restrained by thin silver bands. I’m watching her/me but I also am her; I can feel the weight of my hair as she tilts her head to one side. She raises her hands before her and undulates them while performing subtle sensual swaying motions I attempt to emulate. She cups her breasts with both hands as part of the erotic dance and I feel myself becoming aroused. Then suddenly I’m lying on my back fully integrated with this woman as an intense sexual energy courses up through my body, building in intensity. I become aware now of a young man fiddling with an electronic board to my left, where he kneels turning knobs and generally tweaking levels on the complex system. He glances at me as he works and tells me it’s possible for me to harness sexual energy in this way but that I have to be careful; first I have to know everything he has to tell me, otherwise it can prove dangerous. Completely lucid, I ask him, ―Can’t we collaborate in real life as well? He replies, ―Write down your email address as he hands me a pad of paper and a pen. I take a moment to consider which email address to give him, because he’ll know who I am in real life, and I write ―M on the paper before I lose the dream.
Through the dream of the woman standing before the mirror, I addressed the inevitable self-esteem issues that come from growing older. The two dreams of the harem dancer affected me physically—they mysteriously charged my diminished libido in a lucid dreaming equivalent of HRT with no negative side effects. Results like this simply can’t be argued with. Personal experience keeps showing me that Lucid Dream Healing is a reality and, in the case of menopause, an exciting and effective risk-free alternative to HRT. I’ll skip the pills and stick with my dreams.