Maria Isabel Pita – Ave Maria in Lucid Dreaming

 

(Mario and Lourdes are my brother and sister. They don’t remember any dreams from that night.)

 

I become aware of being in a shadowy hotel room with Mario. This is a dream! We’re dreaming together, and we both know it. Then we hear someone at the door, and immediately recognizing Lourdes when I open it a crack, I let her in happily. In the dream we look like children, ten, eleven and twelve years old respectively, or thereabouts. “We’re all dreaming together!” I declare. “Our first lucid dream together!” as I hug them close into a sort of football huddle. “Look at each other’s eyes,” I instruct, glancing back and forth between their shining eyes, so as not to wake up by letting my dream vision linger too long on any one thing, as I tell them to do the same.

 

As we pull apart, I say, “Let’s go outside, through the window!” and promptly dive into it, passing slowly but seamlessly outside as if through insubstantial water. The first thing I notice is the perfect temperature of the air, gently warm, just right. My siblings successfully make it outside behind me, and floating in the sky several stories above the ground, I hear a quiet music that seems to be coming through an open window of the building we just flew out of, a voice singing the hymn, Ave Maria, softly filling the dream space. It is so wonderful, and I know, without asking, that Mario and Lourdes can hear it too.

 

Then, for some reason, I sense Papi’s invisible presence somewhere close in the blue sky directly above me. Then I feel my pony tail being gently pulled straight up into the air, and when it happens again, and maybe a third time, I say, “I think that’s Papi pulling my hair!” and I’m certain he’s here with us, watching us in our dream. All this time a powerful wind has been blowing in one direction, straight toward us, and as we fly into it now, I cry, “Feel this wind! The wind of the Holy Spirit!” A purely forceful glorious dream wind!

 

I become fully aware then of white flowers everywhere, in the sky, on the ground, above and below us and level with us, white flowers like I have never seen in waking reality, glorious, luminous, radiant white flowers, every single one seemingly composed of countless varieties of other smaller white flowers making up this one extraordinary blossom filling the dream space. “Let’s go higher!” I urge, doing so slowly. I turn in the sky and fly to one side of, and beyond, the building we came from. Passing gently, in no rush whatsoever, between branches of these magnificent flowers, my eyes fixed on a golden-brown horizon I can’t quite make out, I think—What a gift we have been given, being able to lucid dream like this now. I know this gift is filled with a promise only just budding in the human soul, and it is also a consolation, a balm for the materialistic pains our souls must endure in the modern waking world. Difficult to put into words now, but in the dream, I was filled with gratitude for this Divine gift of lucidity being awakened in us by heavenly powers.

 

When we come upon a great patch of the sublime white flowers floating before us as if growing in the sky itself, I promptly fling myself on them like a kid falling flat on her back to make a snow angel. The flowers give beneath me with exquisite comfort, gently rising and falling like the most sublime mattress imaginable. “Come on!” I urge Lourdes, who, wearing a black coat of sorts, is hovering at the edge of the flower bed, studying it suspiciously. She says, “It’s not my style,” and remains where she is.

 

At this point, the flower bed begins moving, very gradually turning in the sky, and tilting upward. “It’s like a ride!” I cry, and Mario jumps onto the edge of the bed, catching what now resembles a huge golden-bronze inflatable raft, its gently rounded edge giving it the air of a rocket ship preparing to launch into a light-brown void cutting off the blue sky of the dream space. There is a pause, and then we take off, entering a dark tunnel swirling with faint silver lights. “Mario, are you still there?” I cry, and am very pleased to hear him reply, “Yes.” I tell him, thinking out loud, “This could be the passage back to waking up, or not. We’ll see.” A few moments later, I become aware of colorful visuals, including a little boy in a red and black striped shirt and other people in some room, but it flows by very quickly. Then I look over my left shoulder, and see the hotel room the dream began in. “I can see the hotel room,” I tell Mario, and step into it again. A second later, Mario walks out of what I take to be the bathroom in the hotel room. We made it back here together!

 

“Okay!” I walk up to him. “I’m going to wake up now. Let’s quickly go over it all – hotel room, Lourdes, flying outside, flower ride, etc.” He nods, and as we turn away from each other, I add, “Call me here in this hotel room!” but then realize he won’t have the phone number. “No, I’ll call you!” But neither one is a good idea, really, and probably won’t happen. I slowly wake.