Dream-initiated Marvel

Tell us about your first lucid dream - and your latest. We want all the juicy details. Also share results of dream challenge experiments.
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Summerlander
Posts: 4107
Joined: 22 Sep 2011 19:52

Dream-initiated Marvel

Postby Summerlander » 31 Oct 2017 22:10

DREAM-INITIATED MARVEL

I'm living a convincing life of a student. Day in day out, as my perception of time leads me to believe, this freewheeling kind of me gregariously communes with an awesome academic bunch. It feels like I've known them all my life.

On the eve of our farewell ball, my fellow friend Cherie (strangely I could swear she never told me her name but the label seems to fit) confides in me that she is terminally ill. I hug her and we shed a tear together. Somehow time is our enemy and I promise my friend a philosophically consoling text message at bedtime and that she need not trouble herself with a reply.

In this life, I have patched up with my estranged mother and sister and both have surprisingly ceased to be difficult human beings. My pal Darragh and university amigos enjoy a frenzied, synchronised dance in a serendipitous moment at the ball. I tell my wife about the cock-a-hoop scholarliness experience I've had over some cocktails. The cakes and the patties are lush.

I recognise my longtime Russian chum at the party and the two of us pop to the local rink for an ice-skating session with his son. Upon return, another affably familiar face---that of a camp coloured fellow with a funky hat---is descried. I recall his svelte disdain for the wonted genial embrace which comes so naturally with the others, but on this occasion the dipso is so happy to see me that he capitulates to this exceptional camaraderie. There's an open invitation to a post-party which I decline when I remember that I promised Cherie a text!

I wake up astonished and dismayed at the fact that it had all been a dream. All the characters---except my wife, my mother, my sister and my friend Darragh---have never existed in my life; and I'm not a student either. Cherie and the class, the Russian, his son and the funky dipso were nothing but elaborate psychical manifestations in an oneiric narrative largely based on false memory. Feeling cruelly deceived by my own mind, I walk to the loo and glance at the hallway clock on the way. It's 5.15 am.

I return to bed at 5.45 am with lucid dreaming in mind. A couple of preliminary deep breaths appear to promote relaxation. Fleeting dreamlets soon enter the light of consciousness which I endeavour to preserve. Try as I might with my perceptual conservation, I eventually succumb to the irresistable wave of somnolence.

The previous pseudo-life presents me with a luxurious stage where I dine with trompe-l'oeil friends. Before long, we head for a nightclub where everyone seems to know me. There's a niggling suspicion about this which almost causes me to question the authenticity of the acquaintances that surround me, but the funky dipso entertains the idea of taking advantage of this featherbrained self of mine. I'm popular and naively egotistical here and events encourage me to analyse no further. But it's not long before I introspect to rediscover the revelry of my ego ideal. There is something wrong here.

I leave the nightclub in contemplation. Am I in Soho? The city lights are far more vibrant and colourful than I remember the West End to be. Why don't I know where I am? Well, it's not the first time I insouciantly follow my friends on a night out not knowing our destination. Hold on. A part of me is happy about something in the back of my mind. A mental secret kept away from the powers of ratiocination---a knowing waiting to be found by the logical thinking that seeks truth.

All of us lucid dreamers know what the transcendentalist philosopher Henry David Thoreau meant when he said, 'Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.' Even Aristotle understood this long before Tibetan dream yoga was established when he said, 'For often, when one is asleep, there is something in consciousness which declares that what then presents itself is but a dream.'

A salmon-pink auroral mantle compliments the presence of an action-packed beach. A turbulent ocean is somewhat darkened by a kinetic cloudscape looming over the horizon. Sky and sand kiss through fugacious twisters and I'm ostensibly the only one at the beach who is awestruck by this phenomenon. This is extremely unusual and peculiar if not downright impossible. This must be a dream ...

'Yes,' I hear myself thinking whilst very much aware of knowing that I'm dreaming, 'I'm having a lucid dream!'

The beach is replete with extravagant rides and bizarre rollercoasters. It's now a funfair juxtaposed by a bouldered shoreline and magnificent rock arches. Sky and sea have a roiling dance in perfect merrymaking. I'm not scared; in fact, I want to revel amidst that beauteous storm. I'm conscious of my movements in order to prevent the collapse of this glorious lucid experience. So I start to fly towards a sky vortex in slow motion.

It's hard to contain my elation as I emerge from the reverse side of the nebulous funnel. Behemoth winds begin to disperse as I glide over a golden mist gradually unveiling a pelagic bonanza. Is that a dorsal fin poking out of it? A shark? No, it's a dolphin. The bottlenose undulates through the waters. I give chase and visually stress on that mental marvel. So far the sense of moving through dream space appears to fuel life into this super-realistic illusion. But what follows is the best part ...

The dolphin leads me to an interesting destination; faint atmospheric twisters flicker by a splendorous beach which appears to cup a culturally ambivalent world magically displaced in time. The sandy platform holds a Cockaigne of Viking-like people sporting chiselled armours and golden chains adorning skintight vestments. This Dark Ages Zeitgeist is surmounted by a futuristic metropolis, creating a breathtakingly bizarre contrast. A few domed buildings stand tall and mark the horizon, like serrated knives hatted with limpid bulbous cups.

Mesmerised, I try not to dwell on those apparently distant forms lest I wake up. I land on the medieval coast and look up at a technological structure resembling a metallic rainbow traversing the sky like the remnants of an all-pervading dome. As I approach the medieval villagers in my midair flight, I feel like Jonathan Swift's Gulliver; they appear to be seven feet tall giants!

A gothic barbarian rogue sporting a dense goatee is glowering at me with a hint of curiosity. His hulky figure is a little intimidating but I still know it's all a fantastic dream. I realise it's the semblance of a world in my head, like another universe albeit in a mental realm---which makes me find it incredible that it's not true. A part of me wants it to be true---an intriguing inconvenience that can lead to the belief-centric head game behind the potential loss of wakeful consciousness in our sleep, which often hampers our lucid dreaming practice, generically speaking. Despite my inner wish to mistake, for just a second, this surreal world for reality, I simply wake up to the real deal.
"Empty cognizance of one taste, suffused with knowing, is your unmistaken nature, the uncontrived original state. when not altering what is, allow it to be as it is, and the awakened state is right now spontaneously present."

- Padmasambhava

24/7/365
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Joined: 07 Apr 2017 15:29

Re: Dream-initiated Marvel

Postby 24/7/365 » 02 Nov 2017 12:56

Resonates with me and well said.

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Summerlander
Posts: 4107
Joined: 22 Sep 2011 19:52

Re: Dream-initiated Marvel

Postby Summerlander » 04 Nov 2017 01:19

Thank you! :mrgreen:
"Empty cognizance of one taste, suffused with knowing, is your unmistaken nature, the uncontrived original state. when not altering what is, allow it to be as it is, and the awakened state is right now spontaneously present."

- Padmasambhava


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