Maria Isabel Pita – Dream Underground in Lucid Dreaming


I’m with a group of people, all of us running, escaping a threat. I have a sense of being in a forest, and then coming upon what I imagine must be the entrance to a pitch-black cave. I pause there, becoming semi-lucid as someone walks confidently in ahead of me even though we can’t see a thing. And yet I sense an opening ahead of us, a low, long crack in the back wall leading deeper into the mountain, a place of refuge. To my right, a pair of men are discussing the shells of old cars that have been here a very long time. In a flash of light, I glimpse them for a moment, still intact, but burned out, lifeless. We pass the inert vehicles, walking through the pitch-black darkness toward an exit that is also an entrance.


We all pass through it, but a tall man, our leader, looks back anxiously, calling out a name. A large golden dog, maybe a retriever, is the last member of our group to run into this underground passage. We are all relieved to see his beloved pet, whose companion is a similar large black dog. We all made it! I know we’ll all be staying here for a time, and as I begin walking around, intending to explore the place, I lose the dream, but not completely…


I cling to the feel of it, and I can still see the figure of our leader a few feet away, his back to me in a long-sleeved white dress shirt. I will myself to walk toward him, and grasp his right shoulder with one hand. When he turns around in response, I explain, ‘I need your help to stay in the dream.’ He’s wearing what appear to be clear goggles that fit more like large glasses. He has a strong face, with handsome features. Looking me in the eyes, he says, ‘I understand.’ That comes as a relief, and a pleasant surprise – a Dream Character who is aware this is the dream space. But as I look around me, I lose the dream again.


For the second time, I will myself back into the same dream. I’m facing a female DC now with reddish hair, and something like a pedestal or lectern stands between us. We’re in the midst of a conversation, and in no time at all, the dream is stable around me. She says, ‘I think you can agree that all of us here have contributed to reducing  harmful emissions, and that what we’re trying to do is helping the environment.’ I do agree, but I’m also a little confused, and ask, ‘What does that have to do with this place?


There aren’t any emissions in the dream space.’ She steps around me, and I follow her, asking her again what relevance environmental protection efforts have on lucid dreaming together, like I know we are all doing in this place. She looks directly at me again and replies, ‘I think I remember all of your questions.’ Does she mean soul emissions, negative thoughts, bad feelings, evil intentions that contaminate the dream space? I follow behind her as she walks up to another lectern, presided over by another woman, on the way remarking, ‘We are all liars here.’


I find that an odd statement, and as I stand there, along with a few other people, she says, gesturing toward me, ‘That one there has never read a book in her life.’ What? I tell her, and everyone else within earshot, ‘Not only have I read countless books, I’ve written quite a few books myself.’ She smirks at me, and it occurs to me then that she was deliberately lying, and that I fell for this baiting statement instead of paying attention to her earlier statement, ‘We’re all liars here.’


I walk away, happy to be stable in this dream again, then pause and turn slowly in place, studying the walls, one of which is lined with rectangular posters/plaques of some kind. It feels like an underground station, but there is no train track, and I know we are deep inside a mountain. This is, quite literally, a lucid dreaming underground. Some people are walking up and down this main thoroughfare, which is atmospherically lit, while other people stand together in loose groups.


As I pass a short young woman standing apart, I walk up to her and ask her, ‘What’s your name?’ Smiling up at me, she replies quietly but distinctly, ‘Maria.’ Wow! I inform her, ‘My name is Maria too’ and immediately she says, ‘I’m Katie Lately.’ I laugh. Apparently, she didn’t like having to share my name, and so she picked another one? Smiling, I tease, ‘Oh, so your name is Katie, lately’ pleased with my little joke as she smiles up at me with a look of smug innocence. I lose the dream.


For the third and final time, I re-enter the same dream, where I abruptly find myself seated at a table with a blonde woman on my left, and slightly above me, like she’s sitting on the top edge of a pub booth. There are other amorphous figures seated around us listening to her talk about the dream space, particularly about a force that lucid dreamers have to deal with, and she gives a name to this male entity who can lead us astray.


And yet, though she believes in negative or challenging forces, she doesn’t give any indication of believing in a positive power/influence which is just as conscious as the problematic entity she described. I listen to this woman for a while, before deliberately informing everyone, ‘I don’t think in those terms anymore. It never got me anywhere… except to Christianity.’


As I speak, I project an image of struggling to swim in dark, murky waters before finally pulling myself up onto the solid ground of a Christian perspective on lucid dreaming, where everything became clear to me personally. Referring to some other dream forces she was talking about, I explain, ‘I don’t use those terms anymore, I call it the Holy Spirit.’


Her eyes widen, and she is speechless for a moment, but then she smiles condescendingly and says something like, ‘If you’re thinking in those terms, you’ve been….?…. since 1956.’ I can’t recall all she said, and I wonder at the specific date of 1956, but she seems to be implying that I’ve regressed to some outmoded way of thinking? I get up and, standing over her, I accompany my next words with the seductive vision of a tall handsome man dressed all in black: ‘What you don’t understand is that the Holy Spirit can penetrate you.


And when He penetrates you, it’s like having a soul climax… but it’s not really like that, it’s not a physical sensation… it is, and yet it is so much more.’ I can see she’s intrigued, but as I sit down again, she concludes dismissively, ‘Balderdash!’ to which I reply, smiling, ‘Yes, you look like someone who would say balderdash’ which I understand now is one name for the negative entity she was talking about earlier.


And suddenly the other lucid dreamers seated around the table begin echoing my words: ‘You look like someone who would say Balderdash!’ ‘Balderdash!’ ‘Balderdash!’ Even a young male waiter leans over and says right to her face, ‘Balderdash!’ We all laugh, and I tell him, ‘Good one!’ as I lose the dream.