I had this profoundly seminal lucid dream on May 27th, 2012:
I’m with someone I identify as my husband standing near the entrance of a large open yet enclosed space difficult to identify, a cross between an airport, a mall, a great hotel, etc. I look into his eyes and immediately realize this is a dream. I tell him, “We’re dreaming! This is a dream!” hoping he’ll understand and his unfocused eyes will focus, but if they do so, it’s only the tiniest bit. Impatient and eager, I grab his arm and declare, “Let’s fly!” Still holding onto him, I ascend into the open space surrounded by colorful walls. “Do you see the same colors I do?” I ask my zombie-like companion, who doesn’t reply. Bright red, yellow and white are angled into shining neon shapes that are also words as we float east toward the entrance.
Outside it’s night time and I fly out eagerly, losing my companion, who I look back and see is standing/floating near the entrance to that vast, amorphous structure as though he can go no farther. I’m not inclined to go back for him and wave a farewell as I proceed eagerly up and out into the open sky. I’m high up and yet still feel close to the earth as I distinctly see a woman–her arms at her sides and her posture as still and vertical as a carved figurine’s even though she’s real–plunge straight down through a layer of clouds that part around her then close again. I think this cloud-mist, what I could discern of it in the darkness, was tinged a bluish green. I have to remind myself to do a deepening technique, giving my chest and breasts a cursory pat down; I feel perfectly rooted in the dream.
There’s a long moment where I simply look around me, open to whatever I might see, to whatever the dream might put before me, but then abruptly I remember what I was worried about before I went to bed. I ask the dream a very specific (personal) question then I look around me for some place where the answer might be found, a doorway I can open, something. At once I see a brightly lit room at the western end of a long, single story building. In the darkness it stands out like a light house and I can even see the shapes of wooden furniture inside it. I fly straight down toward it and into it, eagerly looking for a drawer to open. I distinctly see clean, new-looking wooden furnishings, which include one or two picnic tables. It feels somewhat like a room used to hold the work of a single expert carpenter and craftsman. I alight/kneel before a table/dresser with a drawer and open it. Inside, and yet now also on top of it, a little pig carved in blue wood comes to life and says clearly, almost urgently, “No! No! False alarm! False alarm!” almost jumping up and down it’s so apparently intent on answering my question. I laugh out loud it’s so adorable and because I’m completely surprised and thrilled to get a straight answer from the dream; not merely a “yes” or “no” as I had hoped for but a resounding “No!” And though the object was a little pig it was also shaped like a clock, round, with a straight base, and yet there were no arms or numbers, which in retrospect made it look more like an animated Shen Ring, the ancient Egyptian symbol for eternity.
I leave the room absolutely delighted and, flying low through the sky, almost immediately come upon a large mirror with a gilded frame, just like in my last lucid dream. However, this time I see myself reflected as I look now, not younger, wearing the dress I wore in waking life the evening before, the only difference is, I’m black! I study my skin and see that it’s not paint, or ashes or anything smearing me; I distinguish the natural pores in my flesh. I smile at myself, intrigued to see what I would have looked like as a colored woman. (This is another subconscious reference to ancient Egypt, where only gods and people who had achieved their divine flesh were portrayed with black faces.)
As in my last lucid dream, I fly around the left side of the mirror. Somehow, I end up in front of a long and tall white walls which for some reason I feel I have to climb rather than fly over. I’m not alone; there are several other women standing in this narrow corridor between these pure white walls. The women are all attractive, I notice, dressed in form-fitting outfits of various colors, and very briefly, in passing, I entertain the possibility of becoming a little more intimate with one of them, but the impulse vanishes almost the instant it arises. We’re all intent on scaling the white walls, and suddenly I wonder why the hell we can’t just fly over them, at which point I do just that. Other women follow me up, but one of them is more concerned with me, in fact, she’s attacking me; before I know it, she’s bitten the right side of my neck. I push her away and prevent her from coming near me again, I have the power to do so, and I can’t believe it when she complains to the others about my aggressive behavior. “Are you kidding?” I say. “You’re the one who bit my neck!”
Wanting to just get out of there, I fly Superman style straight up toward the ceiling, intending to go through it. I penetrate it easily, but suddenly I have no desire to make the effort to go through this white material which is like no material known to waking reality, a pure white that is both a solid and a liquid, dense and yet no more substantial than fog, impossible to describe.I don’t feel like struggling with it in this particular lucid dream and I reverse direction, the only problem is, the ceiling follows me down, collapsing, as it were, around me. I’m surprised, this has never happened before in a lucid dream. There’s no getting away from it, I’m pushed down and engulfed in this impossible substance pinning me beneath it. I’ve never had a lucid dream end on a negative note before, and have no intention of waking up at this point. Picking myself up, I don’t fight the substance in which I find myself but instead attempt to transform it into pure potential, to visualize its infinite white as separate points of light akin to all the stars in the universe and all other possible universes, willing myself into the light so that a faint golden glow begins very faintly suffusing my white “prison.”
Then abruptly I’m whisked away from there, carried out of there by a force cradling me from behind that propels me, if I have to describe it with words, at the speed of light. And I see light not far below me in the form of a golden electricity illuminating a diner/cafe/bar with glass walls very much reminiscent of the painting Night Owls. At the same time I distinctly hear a voice, that comes from so close behind me it’s ostensibly inside me, tell me, “You can have anything you want.” This voice/telepathic communication is different from that of other dream characters, it is a presence in itself and what it tells me rings with the truth of revelation. Almost impossible to put into words the intensity and depth of what I felt cradled, embraced, rescued by this “force” propelling me forward while at the same time “settling” me inside the cafe’s golden light at a small round table while explaining (I paraphrase) “It can’t (ever) be defined, the mistake is to try, because if It could be (so contained) It wouldn’t be what It is.” It’s not like I’m being told something I don’t already know, it’s as though the knowledge is now mysteriously branded into my soul by this voice, which verifies what I already knew intellectually in a visceral way that will somehow free me in the future as it freed me from that engulfing “milky” substance.
I suffer a false awakening in which our bed is outside on a dark, quiet residential street. Lying there remembering my lucid dream, I’m facing a gray mailbox shaped like a cow’s head that turns and looks at me; it’s alive. (Another reference to ancient Egypt.) I think it very curious, it’s like a mailbox in a dream, and yet I’m awake, I know I am. Stinger isn’t in bed, and suddenly I see he’s gotten Arthur out of his cage even though it’s still dark out. “Why did you wake him up?” I cry, “it’s not morning yet!” at which point the stress wakes me up for real.