Lucy Gillis – A Kind of Bliss in Lucid Dreaming

Towards the end of a long dream of being on a huge campus with two friends, I am now on my own, exploring the place. At some point I stop to watch all the people around me, bustling about, lots of activity. I notice that there seems to be no roof above us, and yet I am ‘inside’ a large building.

I look up, and see that someone has thrown a white ball or a baseball into the air. Three seagulls follow it as it suddenly takes a strange curving path in the blue cloudless sky. Something feels wrong; I know the ball’s path is not physically possible, it should not move like that, but before I actually articulate that thought to myself, it is dawning on me that this is a dream.

I walk away, down a few stone steps, ducking under a low stone slab or lintel, into a small courtyard-like space. Ahead of me is a beautiful leafy tree. I can still make out the deep green of the leaves, in the now quiet dusky evening. I try to rise in the air, to further prove to myself that I’m dreaming, and do so easily, pausing to hover for a few moments, enjoying the pretty courtyard.

Then I begin to rise higher, as though my shoulders are directing me upwards, but on a slight angle, leaning back. I continue to rise, seeing city lights below me, getting smaller as I go higher and higher, until rising through a cool grey mist I can’t see them anymore.

Soon the mist gets thicker, darker, like storm clouds, and I wonder if I’m rising up through the atmosphere, on the way to outer space. Suddenly, I’m on my back, easily supported, still rising, in the dark skies, but not by my own conscious will. Almost without thinking I blurt out to the dream, “Take me to the highest!”

But then, I over-think what I’ve said, and say, “Inner Self, take me to the highest!” Still not satisfied with my own request, I then say, “God of Lucy, take me to the highest!” At the same time as I am ‘correcting’ myself, I feel a slight movement, as though my changing of phrases disrupts the easy, supportive rise through the skies.

Abruptly, I then find myself back on the campus, standing in the courtyard, inside yet outside, looking through a big stone window without panes—more like a large square hole carved out of a stone wall. I look up at Orion, its stars blazing brilliantly in the clear night sky. A part of me thinks I must not have flown up through the clouds, because the sky here is completely clear. Another part of me ‘corrects’ that assumption and gently suggests that I travelled through my own mental atmosphere, or atmosphere of my psyche.

But I’m not concerned as to the ‘answer.’ I am captivated by the night sky. In the still and silent courtyard, I stand in awe, gazing up at the magnificent starry sky, feeling a kind bliss.