Surprising Lucidity
In my dream, I'm in Britain, walking alongside the English coast as the lashing waves crash against the rocks. I'm headed towards the line of houses which are still some ways off, since I want to see if my friend is home and knock on her door. Except that my friend doesn't live upon the sea, and with a start I realize I'm dreaming.
The very next thought is exactly what it should be: Lucid dreaming! The concept has always fascinated me, but I've never been able to try it, because I've never been able to have that prerequisite realization of "I'm dreaming!" while still in it. So: Let's try some things out! And what's the obvious first thing to try? Flying, of course. Which, as every respectable geek should know, requires simply to throw oneself at the ground - and miss.
Which I do. I'd already begun running and leaping along the rocks in my excitement, and then I leap a little too large and a little too far, and I lose my footing and don't come down where I mean to - and I'm in the air! And, as did that pioneer Arthur Dent, I find myself testing out little slopes and curls, riding the air waves and gusts of wind as I try to get a hang of this flying thing. Except that I've totally lost track of the idea that I'm dreaming and should therefore be able to control this, rather than be subjected only to the whims of the weather. And within moments I'm dunked in the drink.
(Right before that happens, I'm recalling that quote from Neil Gaiman's Sandman: "Do you know what Freud said about dreams of flying? It means you're really dreaming about having sex." "Indeed? Tell me, then, what does it mean when you dream about having sex?")
So I climb out of the sea, a little chagrined and a lot wet. I'm more concerned about my computer, which was inside a case but certainly got some amount of water in it. I get up to my friend's house and knock on the door, but sure enough no one's home. So I head back to the kind-of-crappy hotel and take my computer out of its case where I verify that yep, it's pretty damn damp throughout. I ask the couple of people at the reception desk if I can have a towel to dry it out, but they're pretty useless. And so the remaining moments of this otherwise remarkable dream trickle out in the most mundane manner possible, as I stand in a hotel lobby and wait on its incompetent staff.
But for about ten seconds there? I was entirely lucid.
The very next thought is exactly what it should be: Lucid dreaming! The concept has always fascinated me, but I've never been able to try it, because I've never been able to have that prerequisite realization of "I'm dreaming!" while still in it. So: Let's try some things out! And what's the obvious first thing to try? Flying, of course. Which, as every respectable geek should know, requires simply to throw oneself at the ground - and miss.
Which I do. I'd already begun running and leaping along the rocks in my excitement, and then I leap a little too large and a little too far, and I lose my footing and don't come down where I mean to - and I'm in the air! And, as did that pioneer Arthur Dent, I find myself testing out little slopes and curls, riding the air waves and gusts of wind as I try to get a hang of this flying thing. Except that I've totally lost track of the idea that I'm dreaming and should therefore be able to control this, rather than be subjected only to the whims of the weather. And within moments I'm dunked in the drink.
(Right before that happens, I'm recalling that quote from Neil Gaiman's Sandman: "Do you know what Freud said about dreams of flying? It means you're really dreaming about having sex." "Indeed? Tell me, then, what does it mean when you dream about having sex?")
So I climb out of the sea, a little chagrined and a lot wet. I'm more concerned about my computer, which was inside a case but certainly got some amount of water in it. I get up to my friend's house and knock on the door, but sure enough no one's home. So I head back to the kind-of-crappy hotel and take my computer out of its case where I verify that yep, it's pretty damn damp throughout. I ask the couple of people at the reception desk if I can have a towel to dry it out, but they're pretty useless. And so the remaining moments of this otherwise remarkable dream trickle out in the most mundane manner possible, as I stand in a hotel lobby and wait on its incompetent staff.
But for about ten seconds there? I was entirely lucid.