Maria Isabel Pita – Creepy Crustacean in Lucid Dreaming
In the midst of dreams, I find myself joining a small crowd about to watch a new band perform. I’m a well known figure and someone points out my presence to the other waiting onlookers, proud that I’ve joined them. He calls me Blondie. The performance begins with a slight glitch as the singer opens his mouth but no sound appears to come out.
Quickly, someone behind the scenes floats out a microphone and the music begins thumping and grooving in a satisfying way that inspires me to sway slightly where I stand. I’m aware that as a musician myself I’m capable of dancing passionately and yet also elegantly whenever I want to.
Then I decide it would be nice to relax into a reclining position, lying down with my head still somewhat elevated so I can watch the show, my legs slightly bent before me. I recognize the position as one recommended in “The Tibetan Yogas of Dream and Sleep.” Everyone else remains standing, but after a few moments, a tall young man emulates my position and after that everyone else does so as well. It pleases me to have led them all to this relaxed yet attentive state.
The only problem is, being on the ground puts me on a level with insects, and I flick one away only to see another one crawling toward me. They’re only small annoyances, but then I spot a rather large and clearly hostile crab-like creature heading straight for me. This is not acceptable; I can’t very well remain in this relaxed reclining position when I’m about to be attacked by a giant crab! I stand but it continues aggressively pursuing me. I don’t want to fight it even as I find myself obliged to try and crush it, but it’s tough, resistant.
I’m reluctant to, and somehow don’t possess enough strength, to apply greater pressure when I step on it with my right foot. I end up trapped in a corridor in which I make every effort to step on the nasty crustacean’s “head” with my right foot. This time I succeed in crushing it slightly, surely it will die now, but I can’t apply the finishing stomp with my left foot because it’s bare and that would be too gross! Still it refuses to die and leave me alone!
I’ve had enough. Looking away from it, I say firmly, “This nightmare is going to end now right now. When I look down, this crab will have been transformed into Arthur (my adorable little dog) and everything will be bright and clean again.” I look down and see Arthur and bend down to stroke his soft white fur, gratified my command was promptly and completely obeyed. There’s no more nasty crab attacking me and the hallway is perfectly “clean” as in “luminous.”
Note: I didn’t have the classic “Aha! I’m dreaming!” moment, and yet I behaved with absolute lucidity when I transformed what I already inherently knew, rather than suddenly realized, was a messy and annoying nightmare into a pleasant dream, confidently, without the slightest doubt in my ability to do so, asserting my power to determine what I experience.