I am in the ocean at the rivers mouth. I am bobbing in the swells, watching waves wash up a path along the riverbank. I see K and two others stand up as they paddleboard towards me. I can feel a huge wave coming up from behind me. I realize this is a dream and the wave cannot hurt me. Then I am so pleased to show off body surfing on such a big wave in front of K (my high school sweetheart 35 years ago).

I am in the lighthouse. In the top room, I am looking at a metal bed that looks like a torture device. I realize it is a dream and continue to explore. As I open drawers in the desk and look at strange old fashion office supplies I then say, ‘I wish something exciting would happen!‘

A huge white seagull flies up to the window. I open it and he says to me, ‘Charlie? Yeah, he passed.’ I struggled to formulate a question to ask the bird something besides, ‘Who is Charlie?‘ which seemed inane. I open my mouth and can‘t speak. I wake.

I am trying to make time alone with my high school sweetheart so I can kiss him. When I get him alone, I realize this is a dream, and so I ask him my prepared question, ‘What does it mean when I dream about Golden Sandstone Cliffs?’ He says, ‘I don‘t know, let‘s ask the man who is going to marry us.‘ [Then I see] It‘s Jeremy Taylor!

I [turn to Jeremy] and ask, ‘What is the meaning of Golden Sandstone Cliffs?’ He says, ‘Light.‘ I say, ‘Light?’ I don‘t understand. He then says something much more informative about fish bones and fossils in layers – which I can not recall.

I then ask for healing for my feet. Light comes from my palms towards my feet. Then light comes from the eyes of K and Jeremy towards my feet. I find this alarming, but also worry that it is hokey, and that I have made it up – that only I could come up with something so B-grade Sci-Fi.

I am in a Victorian subway station going up a broad set of steps. The railings are filigree cast iron, painted dark green. There is some non-slip material on the treads. I am examining these stairs very closely and figuring out the dimensions in my head, and I realize it‘s a dream.

I‘m so excited! But then at the top of the stairs I find myself in a claustrophobic slant-roofed space. [I think] This is a dream, I can do anything that I want! I burst up through the roof. But now I find myself in another tiny space. Again!? Five or six times? Finally I am on a sidewalk in a city. I look down at the cement, marveling at how many layers – worlds, really – are below.

Trapped in a house on a hill by an evil man who is trying to convince us that we are losing our minds, a friend and I manage to escape, but then find ourselves balked by a sheer drop. Suddenly I grab her and say, ‘Wait, this is a dream! We can fly off the cliff.‘ She responds, ‘No way am I jumping off of this cliff.‘ I tell her, ‘It will work, watch!’ It takes an awful act of courage to run and jump, but I do, grabbing her, taking her with me, and holding onto her as we fly. We land on a solid rocky surface. We‘re free!

I start to walk down a slope of golden grass. No! I don‘t want to go downhill! (In precognitive dreams, I believe it means something bad is going to happen.) Alright, Great Goddess, I remember I promised, whatever you want to send me. I look at my hands and continue down. It levels out and becomes High Desert. I meet a creature of some sort, probably a Rock Chuck. I want to speak to it, but I see a shadow; someone is approaching me from behind.

It is a figure from many nightmares, The Tramp. Very old, very tall and stooped over, wearing a flat cap. I am terrified. I spin again hoping to change the scene, but he is on the other side of me too. I put on the act that I put on when I have to deal with a difficult customer in the shop; I put a silly little smile on my face and gaze over his shoulder. But over his shoulder I see a city forming in the air above the desert – it‘s so beautiful. Like San Francisco, but more Art Deco, all pastel colors. I am so excited to see it forming – I wake.

I‘m at the wheel of a speed boat at a pier, telling a family to get in. They are the Tsar and his family, looking just like the famous pre-1917 photo: Edwardian clothes, sad intense Russian faces. They get in and I take off, going so fast that the boat skips over the water. They sit, looking as still, glum and intense as ever. Suddenly we come to what seems like the edge of the world. I slam on the brakes and spin the wheel. We do a somersault like a cat jumping onto a windowsill, and finding the window closed.

We end upside down like the Olympic bobsledders with everybody still in the sled. I flip the boat rightside up again with a flick of my wrist on the steering wheel, and say to them, ‘Don‘t be afraid (though they have not evinced any reaction to all) – this is a dream and we can fly. We‘ll take it slow, so here we go.’ It turns out to be the edge of an infinity pool and we fly out over a gorgeous Mediterranean scene. NOW they stand up in the boat and hoot and holler for joy.

My husband and I are in a dire situation. Bad guys are rounding up everyone on this piece of land and are going to kill everyone. I say, ‘This IS a dream and we can just go ahead and let ourselves get shot. It would be very transformational.’ My husband says, ‘I don‘t have the courage for that. What if it‘s not?’

I say, ‘I know it seems very real, but it really is a dream.’ He says, ‘How about we meet at that big standing stone we liked the last time we were here? The bad guys destroyed it last time we were here, so if it‘s there then we‘ll know it‘s a dream.’ I say okay and we go off in separate directions – he tries to save the good guys (our friends) and I go off to kill bad guys.

I encounter a small blond woman (I used to work with her and her first name is Faith and we share the same last name). I know she is one of the bad guys and I know I need to kill her. I have some red plastic discs 10 inches in diameter and a quarter inch thick. I should be able to kill her with this since this is a dream. I fling one at her and it bounces off.

I come at her with another, determined to make it work this time. It slices into her neck just about the collarbone. She says encouragingly, ‘You did it!’ I say, ‘Yes, but is too low and the neck is too thick at this point.’ She says, ‘Try higher up.’ I then cut it into her neck at the narrowest point. I say, ‘Last time I dreamt this, there was another way.’

I am in someone‘s backyard looking at a little square plaza, paved with bricks. I walk up a set of steps made of railroad ties, and notice a well in the center of the plaza. It is a metal tube about 3 feet in diameter, sticking out of the bricks about a foot, and the water is level with the very top of the tube, like a reflective pool. Pale gold sandstone rocks are arranged decoratively around the well. The water is very dark. I shiver and give the well a wide berth.

I cross the plaza and began to clamber up some rocks. I realize it‘s a dream and say to myself, ‘If you had any courage at all, you would go down the well.’ No! Out the well! Not down the well. Yes little girl you were going down the well. Okay it‘s just a dream, and nothing can hurt me. But do I have to dive in headfirst? No I can lower myself slowly, feet first. The water is not really as cold and slimy as it looks.

I drop down to the water about 10 or 12 feet, and find myself at the bottom of the sea. Now you need to explore. No, I can‘t – I‘m too scared to leave the circle of daylight I can see above me from the opening of the well. Underwater with the roof above me? No way! You should be able to breathe under here, that‘s what Jeremy Taylor says advance dreamers should be able to do. Okay, okay. I can‘t!

Just pretend it‘s like air down here. Okay. Now leave the circle of sunlight. Remember how you burst up through layers of concrete? You can do this. I take three or four steps (slogging through water, why don‘t I swim?), and see a castle ahead of me. It is like a castle one would see in a fishbowl, made of fake coral and painted with Day-Glo colors, but it is a real castle.

I am in the Monterey Bay aquarium. It is nice and I am alone. I realize it is a dream and shout out, ‘Show me something I need to see!’ I turn around and see an octopus lying on the floor. He holds up a tentacle beseechingly to me and on the end is a hand. Each finger is the tentacle. He needs help and I pick him up and rush around until I find a cylindrical glass tank. I hoist him in and he sinks to the bottom. Am I too late? No, he waves his hand at me — Thank you.

I‘m excited to explore while I am lucid. I opened a door and find a little space with a slate floor and a spiral staircase of beautiful wood. I go up the stairs and at the top is another door. I open it and the blaze of sunlight pours fourth. I step out onto a little Metal White painted balcony. I see that this is the spaceship and it is hovering over the sun. This really is quite cool and I am enjoying it, but then the thought occurs to me: those boys in the lucid dream magazine are always so dang interested in space, but this is rather boring and there‘s nothing happening up here! I walk along the balcony and go into another door.

It‘s a small room with only a table in it. On the table is a metal box full of disposable razors, navy, pink, and lime. I shout out, ‘Show me something I need to see.’ I spin around and the octopus is floating there (in air) on his tippy toes, raising his hand and giving me a proper thank you, now that he‘s fully recovered. I remember an artist I know telling me something about this pose; octopuses don‘t actually pose this way, they actually do something else, but what is it? What? Thinking too hard, I wake.