By Maria Isabel Pita © 2017
For approximately three years, lucid dreamer and artist, Sean Dabbs, and I have been experimenting with meeting in the dream space, and have had some remarkable experiences. On this particular night, we had not officially planned on trying to lucid dream together, but we always keep each other in mind.
On June 23, 2017, I had the following lucid dream:
I think I’ve gone out at night, where I sit inside a small, dimly lit room listening and observing. I become semilucid when I see a man sitting on the other side of the empty space, smiling slightly as he observes me. I shift in my chair, conscious of a wooden beam separating me from him. To my right, a woman is talking, telling some kind of story, but I don’t plan on being next in line, as I sense the man expects me to be, so after a moment, I get up to go. As I walk to the door behind me, I realize I’m not carrying my purse. No problem . . . I slip a hand into my right pocket, intending to find my car keys in them, and I do so even as I recognize my ability to do this more and more easily. I step outside into a dark and completely empty little parking lot. What? My car was stolen? I don’t have a phone, and I don’t want to call for help. Turning slowly in place, I look around me and think—No, I’m not stranded because I’m dreaming.
Holding my arms slightly up and out (like a statue of the Virgin, although I don’t consciously think of her) I begin rising gently off the ground as I gaze up at the night sky. Directly above me, there is something like a golden haze of starlight, with some brilliant golden stars shining through it in some sort of geometric shape. Brimming with peace and praise, I say, “My Lord and my God!” without raising my voice, for I know, I feel, I am heard. And then, “My Angel!”
As I float facing upward toward the partially overcast night sky, I now perceive—forming within clouds illuminated from within by a hazy golden light—what appears to be the figure of an angel. And as I watch, it grows larger and larger, and more and more distinct, until there is no longer any doubt it’s my Angel responding to my call! And as his golden form slowly becomes visible to me, I realize that he’s huge, really big, colossal! I never imagined him as so immense! Then I see he is extending one of his hands down toward me. I fly up to meet it, and even though just one of his fingers is almost as big around and as long as I am, I don’t hesitate to touch it. He holds it there for me as I caress it, full of awe at how real it feels, just like living skin. He is still emerging from the heavens as with infinite patience and tenderness he cradles me in his open palm, which I kiss in grateful awe, small as a baby bird in his hand.
Cradling me in his hand, my Angel reaches the ground and seamlessly takes the form of a man flying on my left. We’re still connected, his right shoulder and my left shoulder seem to merge as I cling to him, but not because I’m afraid I’ll lose my grip, for we’re completely together. And, at last, I see his face, in profile above the top of his bare, strong arm, which is all I can see of him because we’re so close. He’s a handsome, fairskinned man wearing a white garment that leaves the upper part of his chest bare, and something like a fine silver chain hangs from around his neck that ends in a sharp point. I glimpse something else near his neck over his shoulder—a golden cross about the size of my hand, the edges studded as if with precious gems of some kind, but it’s not exactly shaped like a crucifix. And although I don’t see it, the position of his left arm on the other side of his body indicates he’s holding something slightly extended before him. A sword?
As we soar straight ahead just above the ground, I gaze in wonder at his face. His hair is short and a dark-blonde, and his profile—fine-featured yet strong—doesn’t look exactly as I expected. But it does resemble the face he showed me in another other lucid dream, only sharper, purer. Maybe because in this dream the lighting is bright and clear, not dim and full of shadows. To my right, I glimpse a flash of dark-blue water, like an ocean running parallel to this place we’re flying through at high speed which is something like a narrow covered walkway. My surroundings are mainly a white blur because I have eyes only for my Angel, whose smile tells me he’s just as happy as I am, that he’s been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as I have. It’s so, so wonderful being with him like this at last!
As we fly, my Angel speaks to me. I hear his words, but I don’t understand him with my mind—what he says flows straight into me, into my heart and soul, and eloquently deepens the joy of being with him. Then I become aware that he’s speaking a foreign language as I begin to see more of our surroundings—something akin to open booths beneath a pavilion selling beautiful and colorful things—and I say to him, “Wait! You’re talking in Italian, but I need English.” Looking amused, he communicates to me that’s not really true as he says something about Spanish, in which I’m becoming more fluent. I know I’ll be able to remember this clearly when I wake up.
But just thinking about waking up begins ending the dream as my Angel slows down and, turning to the left, we finally come to a stop at something akin to a white counter in an alcove which, in waking life, is akin to a small seaside bar. I hear my Angel say “German” and I see a flash of a silver plaque on a bottle. The “bartender” refers to my companion as a man or a boy and, feeling the dream slipping away, I protest, “But wait, I thought you were an Angel” as I wake up.
Once I had it written up, I sent Sean my dream. What follows is our email exchange:
