Linda Lane Magallón – September 16-17 2006 Journey To The Upper and Underworlds, F, L, Super in Lucid Dreaming
I am on a trek, always moving, hardly stopping except for a moment or so. A young man with blonde hair (in a modified spike style) is guiding me over hill and through dale. He is taking me to wonders or people with wonderful abilities. Each time someone does something marvelous, I realize that I have the ability to do them one better. Although I am proud of my achievements, I’m not trying to show off, just matter-of-factly demonstrating to the others that they need not treat me like a neophyte.
In a sunlit valley, on a winding path to a waterfall, we come upon a guru sort of man who is talking to a couple of members of his flock. He looks typically messianic – Caucasian with long white gown and long light-colored (or sunlit) hair. He greets me telepathically and when I speak back to him in the same manner, his eyebrows shoot up, his eyes open wide and he smiles broadly in surprise and delight. My guide and I take a cordial leave of the group and return the way we came.
Then my guide takes me to the underworld (in an elevator?). We step out into a huge space that looks like a warehouse with side rooms and a ceiling towering high overhead. As we walk along, I sense that tormented souls are just behind the right hand wall. It has the attributes of a canvas curtain, but the appearance of translucent glass. I can see dim shapes floating and churning in the foggy murk.
One entity propels himself horizontally to the “glass” that separates us. As he approaches, I can see his scary face (a combination skeleton and “Ghostface” from Wes Craven’s The Scream). He seems intent on frightening me but, in order to waylay the onset of fear, I scan him to get a quick overview of his past life. Then I speak to him telepathically, reminding him of neutral or positive scenes from that existence. He relaxes somewhat and just bobs in the murk.
I continue down the wide passageway and pass through a door to a room with normal sized ceiling height. This one is filled with people standing about in dark robes, but their faces are animal-like. I especially recall one grotesque horse face. No one is threatening, though. I realize that the exterior reflects their interior. Some are self-deprecating or self-loathing, a habitual bad self-image.
I wonder if some could be rescued from this purgatory, and then realize that they don’t need “rescuing” since they are free to go wherever they want. So I revise my thoughts to wonder if some of them could be taught to think of themselves, and thus treat themselves and others in a healthier manner. When I scan one of the men (they all seem male), I perceive he is very set in his behavior. It would take a long time of conversing/teaching/demonstrating new ways of being to get him beyond his low opinion of himself and the world. It could happen, but it wouldn’t be an easy task.
My companion demonstrates lifting a small object with his mind. I wave it gracefully to grasp it gently in my hand, then let it go and wave it back to him. I suddenly realize that, besides being able to levitate objects, I have the power of flight and that this is a dream. I think to myself, “Since I can fly in this dream, why don’t I?” I lift my legs off the floor, bend at the waist and fly at head level into the next room. Now the people look human. Some seem impressed with my feat; others just look at me without emotion.