I was eight years old.
I had a dream about being at a crowded picnic.
And just as clearly and suddenly as any thought, I realized I was dreaming. It wasn’t shocking, it wasn’t breathtaking.
It was just a clear and confident feeling of awareness. I casually went around telling my dream characters I knew I was dreaming. They reacted the way most people do when a child has something to say that it’s proud of.
After that, I randomly LD’d but I didn’t know what it was called.
Finally, Stephen LaBerge was in the national news introducing the world to his pioneering of lucid dreaming and his Lucidity Institute.
I took it and ran with it. My mother hated it (as she hates mostly everything) but I didn’t care.
It was a real turning point in my fascination with dreams and I’ve never really quite gotten back to that saturation of interest, that openness to what the LD field promises… much the way we never recapture the sparkle of a first love, or rediscover the wonder of a fairytale when reading it the second time.