Lately I have been so busy that I have not had the time to pursue this wonderful world of lucid dreams. I haven’t been having them, or even thinking about them. Then, the night before last, I had an unexpected brief period of lucidity in a dream. I made an attractive lady materialize but soon after I had gotten so caught up in my dream again that I lost lucidity. Nevertheless, the experience piqued my interest in lucid dreams, and I decided to start researching them once more.
So yesterday, I went to the university library to see if they had any books on lucid dreaming. I was able to get my hands on a copy of Lucid Dreaming by Stephen LaBerge, which is a most excellent book. For the rest of my day, during every free minute I had, my nose was buried in this book. This was for two reasons. First, it is so well-written and fascinating that it is difficult to pry myself away from it. Secondly, the last time I spent an entire day researching lucid dreams, I had one that night, so I was hoping to make that happen again. Sometime during my reading, I decided that the next time I had a lucid dream I would try to fly, since for some reason it had never occurred to me in past lucid dreams.
At about 8:30, I felt rather drowsy, and having nothing else to accomplish in the day, I decided to go to bed. I was already more than halfway through the book, just having finished Chapter 6 (“Learning Lucid Dreaming”) and eager to test out the knowledge I had gained from it.
I awoke again around 4 a.m. from a non-lucid dream, somewhat disappointed that I had not yet had a lucid dream. But I remembered LaBerge’s advice that the ideal time for lucid dreams is in the early morning, upon returning to sleep after waking from the REM stage. It was not yet morning, but as I had gone to sleep early I figured that was my ideal time.
During my forty or so minutes of wakefulness, I thought that perhaps the reason I hadn’t flown in a lucid dream yet was because I was too preoccupied with my sexual desires. I decided to, err, “release my sexual tension” before going back to sleep. Sometime in the next hour or so I finally achieved lucidity.
I don’t remember what it was that tipped me off, since I can’t remember hardly anything about the first half of the dream. What I do remember is that I was in my parents’ house upstate, where there were many people whom I had never seen before in waking life. I was practicing making objects materialize, much to the delight of my dream friends. For instance, I would tell one of the people to reach into their back pocket, and they would be shocked to find a $500 in it that wasn’t there before. Things kind of get blurry after that, but at some point I found myself testing out these powers on my own, by opening and closing a desk drawer, since I find it is much easier to materialize things out of sight.
After a little while, however, this got boring, and I felt like going somewhere else. But unfortunately, the dream started to fade. It was at this point that I remembered about LaBerge’s book. I immediately got up from my seat and skipped gleefully toward the door while spinning around on my axis (according to LaBerge, this spinning is supposed to increase lucidity, and that is exactly what happened). When I got to the door, I suddenly realized what it was that I wanted to do. Once in the hallway, I decided that the best way to the outside world was the large window at the end of the hall. But unfortunately, this window does not open, and it didn’t in my lucid dream either. No worries, though. I could simply leap through the window, right?
Well, not quite. On my first attempt I simply hit the hard glass and bounced back, just as I might in real life. Somewhat confused, I tried again, but again I found myself pressed up against the window. It was distinctively cool and hard, although I knew this barrier did not really exist. Then I remembered something else LaBerge had mentioned, namely the crucial difference between intention and expectation. It isn’t enough to merely tap your heels, chant “there’s no place like home”, and hope to end up in Kansas. You must actually expect it to happen. On my third attempt, I got a nice running start, and fully expected myself to go effortlessly through the window. I leapt into the air, through the window, and safely onto the ledge outside, seven stories above the ground. I felt much like Neo must have felt upon bending the spoon. I realized that it was not my environment which had to change, but myself.
This realization gave me the confidence I needed to take that giant leap. Normally I am absolutely terrified of heights, but in the dream I hadn’t the slightest fear of falling, since I already proved to myself that the impossible was possible if I just believed it to be. I outstretched my hands and jumped. Soaring like a glider above my surroundings, I felt an exhilirating and undescribable sense of freedom. I turned ninety degrees to my right and hovered down on top of another building, holding onto the edge of the roof and looking down about four or five stories to the ground. I then got up and directly in front of me was a beautiful sunset full of vivid oranges and yellows. I could see a long metal fence along the ground and some power lines behind it. For my next flight I decided to go directly toward the sunset. I leapt off the building and saw the fence and power lines getting closer, but at some point the excitement got to me and I had a false awakening, followed shortly by a real awakening.
All in all, it was a very positive experience. Hardly ever do I start a Thursday as jubilant and care-free as I am this morning.