Don’t Believe What They Tell You–Keep Dreaming

I had this Lucid Dream February 22, 2012, the night of the New Moon:

I’m living in an apartment in some quiet city and I really want Mami to come over for dinner. I know she lives nearby and that it will be a simple matter to drive her home afterward. I really want to see her and have her over, so to this end I find myself out on the street in front of my building communicating with my brother, ostensibly by telephone. He seems to think it isn’t possible and I say, “Ah, but you see, I’m dreaming, and in this dream I know her address. It’s 118 Vial Street.” I begin walking as I speak, clarifying, “V-i-a-l as in a vial, not v-i-l-e.” At this point, I can’t see a thing, as though my eyes are closed, but I’m determined to imagine/visualize the streets and houses as I know they’re laid out. I come to a corner and have to decide if that’s zero or 1st street. I determine the next one down is 1st street and I keep following my visualization even though it’s difficult to construct an entire residential neighborhood with just my imagination. I make myself arrive at the appropriate address (these are older three-story residences as found in Arlington, MA) walk up the steps and tell my companion, a featureless silhouette, to try the key, and it works! “Good job,” I say, and enter the building with confidence, because now I know the door to the apartment can also be unlocked.

I start up the steps and when I come to the first landing, suddenly I can see it very distinctly. Yes, there’s the white paint and slight orange stains on it, all very familiar, I’m really here! I made it, I’m in a lucid dream. In that instant, someone grabs me from behind and propels me up the remaining steps to the door of the apartment. It feels good, part of the thrill of being conscious in a dream, but I don’t want to get too excited and wake up. We enter the apartment and I wonder to which one of my probable selves it belongs and what I’m meant to discover and do there. Such a sense of achievement already that I made it into the world of one of my Soul’s other selves. The person behind me is still propelling me forward and I see a man’s silhouette as we pass in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. A very small part of me is anxious but for the most part I’m more curious than concerned when I ask him, “Who are you?” and when he doesn’t respond, again, “Who are you?” I manage to turn around and am pleased to make out in the darkness a hard but handsome face and hair that’s at least shoulder-length even though he remains a silhouette. “Is there something I’m supposed to know?” I query, thinking he might have something to tell me. I think I repeat the question before he answers, “Just go for it” his voice firm yet encouraging. I say, “Okay!” I get that he wants me to just flow with the dream and see where it leads and I’m more than happy to do that.

Now it’s obvious that the occupants of the apartment are asleep because it’s night time and the place is dark and quiet. I get the sense of white walls and furnishings. It’s laid out essentially like my waking life house but it is not in the least familiar; it’s another home entirely. I head down the hallway and see a little boy standing just outside the bedrooms in the dark corridor. I approach him smiling. “Hello,” I say, “are you dreaming too?” He seems to nod but I sense he’s confused, he’s very young, and like many little kids he has a natural ability to see disembodied people. I speak reassuringly and brightly, “That’s great, we’re all dreaming. We’re awake in a dream.” What’s curious is that he has what appears to be a mask that covers his entire head quite tightly, as though made of thick plastic wrap that’s a rather sickly green in color.

The door to the master bedroom is open and I can see his parents sleeping in there. I know without thinking about it that they are not very pleasant or intelligent people, and I discern the big pot belly of the boy’s father and the not generous or caring thinness of the woman. Their personalities are clear to me even though I can barely see them. I follow the boy into his parents’ bedroom, into which he’s backing up as if pulled in that direction. Indeed, his mother sits up and impatiently tugs him up onto the bed with her, telling him to shush because he’s mumbling as though talking in his sleep. In a flash, I understand that he’ll grow up being told dreams aren’t real and receive no encouragement in developing any ability he possesses. I lean over him where he’s lying in bed with his mother and tell him, “Don’t believe what they tell you. Keep dreaming!” As I speak I understand that I’m a teacher and that the man with me has brought me to, and is supervising, my first lucid instruction, because I know that I’ve been helping, or teaching people in a similar fashion in non-lucid dreams for a very long time, but that I’m being promoted, in a sense, and this is my first time on this level. I understand all this in a flash but don’t allow the thought to distract me with pride; I’m simply content.

As I leave the bedroom, I wonder how the kid can breathe in that mask, which he has to wear around his parents, but I am hopeful, I seem to know for a fact, that for the rest of his life he’ll remember this dream; he’ll remember the man and woman he met in a dream who confirmed the fact that he was dreaming and that it was real, and that this memory will aid him in overcoming all the obstacles he will encounter in his upbringing. Back in the living room, I am drawn to the western wall, which has a window lining the bottom, where I crouch and gaze out at a beautiful bird sitting right outside the glass. “Oh, look at this bird!” I exclaim to my companion, clearly seeing it’s deep yet bright-blue feathers that are faceted like jewels with other rich colors. I force myself to look away from it because I don’t want to wake up as a result of focusing on one thing for too long.

I can feel the sun rising and it does indeed seem to be morning because the family is waking up, walking out into the living room. My companion (still a tall, dark presence I don’t really focus on) remarks on the attractive sight of the man’s hairy pot belly rising from the mattress, which amuses me. And what’s interesting is that the little boy can still see us. As his parents go about their groggy morning business, he stands against the wall staring at us. My companion then demonstrates to him that you can fly in dreams, that you can do anything, and I join in by rising off the ground and doing a slow backward flip, something I’ve never done before in dreams, and I’m not quite sure how to do it, but I seem to succeed and understand that I’m educating myself as well, learning not to be so linear in the sense of behaving in dreams as though I’m in waking reality.

I get the feeling it’s time to leave but for some reason we can’t go out the front entrance and I spend a few urgent seconds prying open a glass door from the wall. I succeed and it’s a relief to get out of the apartment’s stuffy atmosphere into a lighter, fresher space. I can see through the walls and ceiling of the corridor to the outside world, a sort of city street scene, but I’m still inside. This is a familiar problem from other lucid dreams, and I’m determined to find a way out. I spot some stairs and head down them, wondering and hoping my companion will follow me, but then I hear him ask me where I’m going. I look up at him and tell him, “We went up to get there, so I’m going down to get outside” which makes perfect sense, but he informs me, telepathically (as all the speaking in this dream has been really) that’s not where we want to go, and I understand he means it’s real busy and distracting down there. But I’ve found a door and walk outside in triumph; I’ve made it out of the confining space and am now free to fly away if I please. I distinctly see two men in suits speaking and I admire the face of one of them as I walk by, especially his mouth, thinking, what a sexy mouth he has and hoping he’ll notice me and tempted to interact with him, but I keep walking and feel the dream fading away as I find myself lying in bed at approximately 5:00 a.m.

In another dream, I recognize events as ones that I’ve foreseen in a dream. Walking past my sister sipping juice in a corner of a restaurant, I tell her I’ve seen her doing this in a dream. I’ve also seen the men helping me load my belongings into a moving truck doing it in a dream. I’m elated that what I’ve dreamed is coming to pass exactly as I saw it. I walk outside at night, on cold wet flagstones, to the shining dark-blue car I’ll be riding in to my new home, and in which I sense deceased family members already sitting, waiting. I watch as items that might have been left behind are hastily stacked on a round, Indian-style table with a raised gilded border, items I recognize from already having unpacked them in reality, so I know they’ll make the journey safely. I seem to recall a carved ebony elephant and other aesthetic items with an Oriental look. Then walking with Mami inside a small, shadowy, tasteful gentleman’s-club-like bar, I’m telling her, in an excited voice, about how my dreams are coming true. The dark-haired bar tender can’t help but overhear, and I’m glad he’s interested in what I’m saying. But then someone walks in and demands his attention and I have to keep moving. Just beyond the bar, in a white, well-lit foyer of sorts, I pause before walking outside. Now the man is standing in the doorway of a small space like a break room listening to me and watching me as he leans against the wall smoking a cigarette. I really have to leave but, before I go, I walk right up to him and kiss him full on the lips. When I step back, he dramatically blows out the mouthful of smoke I almost made him swallow. I know he’s deliberately being amusing, but that the truth is he doesn’t really want me to go, he’s only acting this way to make it easier for me. I recognize, as in countless other dreams, that we can’t be together now, not yet.

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