Maria Isabel Pita – April 17, 2011, The Other Side (Full Moon, Palm Sunday) in Lucid Dreaming
I find myself inside and outside at once—a building with glass walls and ceilings, or something like that which makes it feel open even though it’s enclosed—which leads out onto the broad walkways of a lovely city with low ‘clean’ modern buildings stretching on either side for as far as I can see.
I really can’t remember any details but the overall atmosphere is relaxed, pleasant, the colors cool and yet warm, the sky seeming part of the architecture, which is white, airy; everywhere there’s a seamless union of outer and inner. It’s a totally lovely, serene place and I’m very happy to be there because I’m lucid. I take a quiet pride in my lucidity, not really surprised by it and knowing that in the future I’ll be lucid much more often.
All this is happening in the company of a tall man, the first dream character I encountered, whom I promptly address with the question, ‘Who are you?’ The conversation proceeded something like this (although the exact words elude me now, and as I don’t remember his lips moving, it appears to have been telepathic) as he replies, ‘A friend of your father’s.’ I am delighted (my father passed away 4 years ago) and as I study his face (strong and distinguished and rather foreign looking yet also a bit blurry) I say, ‘Yes, I think I remember you.
You visited Papi just before he died. Didn’t you?’ He replies, ‘Yes’ then begins telling me things about Papi I can’t recall now, but it is all good and I’m very happy. My guide (because that’s what he feels like now) is walking on my left and every time I look up at his face (a luminous white yet not at all ghostly) it looks more and more like Papi’s face with his distinct, wonderful smile.
As we keep walking north, the sight of a clear blue sky over a white wall prompts me to ask my companion, ‘Would you mind if I went flying for a while? I really love to fly when I’m dreaming.’ Even as I speak, I wonder if he’ll be surprised or even offended by the fact that his world is a dream to me. But he just smiles and says, ‘There are some statues by the sea I’d like to show you first.’ I exclaim, ‘Oh, yes!’ as I picture beautiful smooth white reclining male and female figures caressed by bright blue water. But I feel people behind us now and a man abruptly squeezes my left hip, insinuating himself closer to me, and his companion edges tentatively nearer on my right. Immediately, I experience sexual arousal.
I’m tempted to succumb to the pleasure already rising and intensifying effortlessly, magically inside me (as in all lucid dreams) but I don’t want to wake up. The man bite-kisses me in a delicious way, moving up my body, and I see him make a gesture with his head toward his friend to work on my other side. Taking it slow, controlling the exquisite power of the sensation, I ascend with them onto a dance floor that becomes a spacious yet intimate light-filled room in some building. I somehow manage to control the intensity of my arousal, which I know from experience is a wave that can sweep me away on its irresistible current so I crash on the shore of my bed, awake.
I detach myself enough from my partner’s embrace to look at his face and ask him, ‘Are you a lucid dreamer too?’ He answers, ‘Yes’ and explains— indicating a timer on his right wrist he’s wearing like a watch—that it’s over. It takes me a moment to understand he means he was executed. It seems he was on death-row and the ‘switch’ was just pulled a few moments ago. And here he is! His complexion, I notice now, is an odd color, orange-brown with a sickly tinge to it, and his face his narrow, not very healthy in appearance. ‘Then you’re not a lucid dreamer,” I tell him, ‘you’re dead.’ I say this in an almost matter-of-fact tone, simply because it’s true. Then, concerned I’ll upset him, I add, extending my right hand to shake his, ‘Welcome to the Other Side!’
My ‘guide’ reappears on my left, standing out from the crowd and not just because he’s tall—he possesses a presence none of the other people in the room do—and I think he’s dressed in white. I know he’s there to take me to the statues by the sea and as he turns away I follow him eagerly. As I do so, I take note of the gold and green embroidered couch I pass on the way to the steps, which descend to the right. I’m still feeling very lucid. Throughout the dream I’ve been periodically glancing at my hands and saying out loud, ‘I’m dreaming’ in a relaxed fashion; not urgently or insecurely.
At the bottom of the steps, I pause to look back at a rather dumpy middle-aged man and woman descending after me. I remark to my guide that they seem to be following me. At this point my lucidity begins fading (I realize now because I began focusing too much on miscellaneous dream characters instead of concentrating on fulfilling my own agenda.) As my guide stops somewhere to take care of some issue, I proceed farther along the interior space toward a half enclosed area where people are walking west toward the sea, or so I assume. Waking abruptly, I really regretted not making it to the ocean with my guide to see what he had to show me. But in another lucid dream a few weeks later, I finally found myself by the sea…
Awareness of being lucid in a dream, and of a cold glossy bluish stone floor against my bare soles, occurs simultaneously. I cry, ‘My Lords!’ exultantly. The atmosphere is neither sunny nor dark, but reminiscent of a perpetual luminous twilight. The floor is outside and then, to my left, I discern a movement which coalesces into waves. I’m thrilled to find myself beside the ocean, which I further distinguish by the white froth of its cresting waves, almost the same muted blue as the sky above it so the water appears almost to be flowing from it.
Then I witness a marvelous sight—dozens, if not hundreds, of white candles rising half out of the water burning bright orange flames. I will never forget the sight. It seems a perfect way to express the ultimate paradox–how we are all one being/ spirit and yet also unique individuals/souls. Because of this dream and all the many other lucid dreams I’ve had (at least three a month) I no longer fear death, on the contrary!