Edith Gilmore – Summer 2009 Not This Hairstyle in Lucid Dreaming
I find myself in a store, a rectangular room. Bright, clear colors, a 3-D feel of solidity to everything. But the things for sale I perceive, rather vaguely, as perhaps being made of wood, almost an effect of enlarged, somewhat old fashioned toys. (Only on waking do I realize that this was the Harvard Coop: books, textbooks, art; a happy place for me in my long-ago Harvard days, and years later, when I came back to New England.)
I don’t look closely at the stock, nor wonder at the fact that things are mixed together, not sorted as in an actual shop, let alone not being the customary stock of a college supply store. I am simply delighted at being lucid, very infrequent in spite of longing. I decide to experiment with making something change.
Not sure if the absurd little episode that follows takes place in this store room, or in a duplicate room that opens out of it at a curious angle. In waking life the store has an extension, but it is across a narrow street. I notice a young man clerk some feet away and decide to make my ‘change’ experiment on him. I am going to try to change his dull, ordinary hair style, perhaps to a buzz cut or a Mohawk? But the dream ends when I get closer to him.