By Brian Stanton © 2015
Several months ago, I retreated to my parents‘ cabin in West Virginia to heal myself. I‘d been leveled by a foodborne illness and had the stitches to prove it. Eight of them framed my right eyebrow where, weakened by the bug, I‘d hit the bathroom floor with tremendous force. You could say I‘ve had better Friday nights.
Set in the dense woods, the cabin promised a serene setting for my recovery. It also was ideal for my dreaming practices. But this time, I wasn‘t going to spend my lucidity flying from tree to tree or seeking erotic encounters. I had a well-motivated goal: to heal my digestive system. The anecdotal evidence was encouraging, and some people reported astonishing physical restoration from healing dreams. In Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self, Robert Waggoner discusses using light to heal in the dream state:
In various colors and in various forms, this inner light is a common feature for lucid dreaming, which makes one wonder, does the light heal? Or does it represent healing? (1)
In WV, I was keen to experiment with this curative light. I was cautiously optimistic. In a prior lucid dream, I‘d shouted to ‘see my inner light!’ and an angelic sunbeam had burst through the clouds. Perhaps, I thought, I could harness the light to heal my gut.
My third night at the cabin, I dreamed:
I become lucid in my childhood house and consider flying past my parents to draw a reaction. Instead, I float into the backyard and chant: ‘I summon my healing light!’ at the grey sky above. Brilliant sunbeams begin to crack through the clouds and I sense a palpable, growing energy. Within moments, the clouds give way and I‘m bathed in total luminosity! All I see is white. I lose perception of time, but eventually the white fades to black and I hover in a void. I realize I wear a sleep mask, so I tear it off and see spiraling specks of light as I gently spin. I wake up amazed.
The experience invigorated me. That morning I jotted, ‘I feel stronger, more vital, both mentally and physically. Perhaps the lucid healing dream had a profound effect’. Whether or not the dream affected the bacterial composition of my gut, I truly felt better afterwards. Lucid dreaming luminary Stephen LaBerge also attributes ‘healing qualities to lucid dreams on the basis of how I felt upon awakening.’(2). By this standard, I am confident that I had a curative dream.
Of course, questions remain. What was the actual healing mechanism involved? Was my experience merely an amplified placebo effect, or did it reach deeper? Are these healing powers accessible through waking consciousness, or only through lucid dreams? Is there something fundamental about light that causes it to reappear in healing dreams across time and culture? Are there effective lucid healing methods yet undiscovered?
The last question bears investigation. When I began writing this article, I had a specific experiment in mind: to transport myself to a healing dimension by jumping through a mirror or TV screen. I imagined it would resemble a pink cloud of energy or an ethereal whiteness. Part of me wondered if I‘d arrive in a cramped waiting room, filling out a protracted medical form. After a week of fruitless attempts, I dreamed:
As I pet my childhood dog, Lucas, I hear a noise in the next room. I open the door and, to my astonishment, see an identical yellow labrador – an exact replica of Lucas! A wave of anxiety courses through me and I have an epiphany: it‘s a dream! Settling my nerves, I recall my goal and approach the hallway mirror. I pause at the sight of my face, which glistens with sweat and bulges unnaturally to one side. Whatever.
Visualizing my goal, I announce, ‘Take me to the pink healing dimension,’ then I dive into the mirror. Darkness envelops me. I have but one sense: an awareness of my body. Soon the void transforms into a pink gas, and I watch it curl and wisp through my outstretched fingers. I feel validated – this is exactly how I pictured it. I wallow in the mist for at least a minute, and then awaken in another dream…
The next day I felt deeply contented. Although I can‘t provide data from the lab, I know that a positive change occurred.
I‘m not claiming to be a mystic with exceptional powers. With the proper vigilance, these experiences are open to anyone. Here are a few tips to heal in lucid dreams based on what has worked for me:
Vocalize your intent to heal. In both dreams, I carefully worded my intention. Pretend you are casting a spell and speak clearly – would a sorcerer mumble?
Visualize the dream beforehand, picturing a healing light or mist. These forms of healing energy are common to many dreamers.
Believe that dreams can heal. Waggoner writes: ‘It seems necessary to open up to the experience and trust in it as you seek healing.’ (3) I‘d suggest picking up your favorite book on lucid dreaming for inspiration.
Be creative in your approach to dream healing. It‘s more fulfilling, and perhaps more effective, to heal using a personally designed method.
But the most important factor for inducing healing dreams? Motivation. And the strongest motivator?
Sickness. We all fall ill from time to time – why not use it to our advantage? A new dimension of medicine awaits those willing to seek it out.
1) Waggoner, Robert. Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self. Needham, Mass.: Moment Point, 2009. 160. Print.
2) LaBerge, Stephen. Lucid Dreaming. Los Angeles: J.P. Tarcher ;, 1985. 179. Print.
3) Waggoner, Robert. Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self. Needham, Mass.: Moment Point, 2009. 162. Print.
Brian Stanton writes on his blog at primalsapien.com