Some people will say that the only things separating a person from lucidity are his or her mental blocks. I don't know if that's true, but I know it must play a part, and for my part I've recently recognized a block of my own that I know is holding me back from my lucid goals. I thought I'd share it with you all (My discussion of it in the chat was this short of being a group therapy session) - maybe it'll help an inexplicable few who find themselves in something like my own situation.
I started my dream journal May 23, 2002, in hopes of bringing about a lucid. I've been trying to become lucid for over five years now. I've not yet legitimately had one.
I could follow that statement up with a lot of things. Talk about all the techniques I've tried, all the (thankfully legal) substances I've experimented with, all the confidence I've had at various points and lost at others. What instead I want to highlight is what goes through a person's (and maybe even your) head when they see that factoid in front of them, that I haven't had a lucid dream in five years. The reaction is very predictable.
"Holy cow! That's incredible! How could you not have had one yet?"
"Not even one by accident? Wow, there must be something really wrong with you!"
"Unreal! Have you tried technique X? It's always worked for me."
"Dude, I feel for you. I just know you'll have one soon though!"
Curiosity, surprise, disbelief, sympathy. Interest. Attention.
A lot of pros talk about how "fear of failure" can hold a novice back. You don't want to try, or at least don't want to give it your best effort, because if you do and you fail, then what good are you? Nobody wants to feel powerless and incompetent, because incompetence is unexceptional. We practice lucid dreaming so we can succeed and gain integral skills that help us attain our goals, but there's always celebrity involved with skill. "Wow, that guy worked his ass off for years and now he can LD whenever he wants to. Perfect control! I'm impressed." There's everything to gain from succeeding at our goals, but nothing to gain from failing. Nobody wants to fail. Right?
Maybe not.
This is my stumbling block: I enjoy feeling powerless and incompetent. I love failure. Not just any everyday failure, of course, because everyone fails to some extent; even the best of us find their control or their focus lacking in a lucid from time to time. Everyday failure isn't notable or glamorous - but what about titanic failure, an epic fuck-up, what about a failure so monumentally pathetic that people have to turn their heads and gawk?
What about failing to LD for five years running? Wouldn't that fit the bill?
It does. I like failing because I am damn good at it, unlike lucid dreaming itself. My abilities are nothing to look at, but my inabilities are absolutely out of this world. I'm the best at being the worst, and I've carved that title out for myself a little more with every passing night.
So this is what I've learned. My subconscious is playing a simple game of maximizing gains, and it realizes, now, that it has a lot to lose from finally attaining lucidity. If I keep on failing, I get to have more fame to my name with every passing day; I get to be known more and more as the guy who Just Can't Do It; I get to sop up more and more self-pity every time I read a post about someone else's easy gains and constant successes; I get to garner more and more reckless attention from wide-eyed people who don't realize that with their sympathy and good wishes they're feeding the very problem they mean to help vanquish. If I succeed, though, even just one night with one low-level lucid lasting even one second, the game's over. I'm not famous or special anymore; suddenly I become "just another guy" who has a lucid every now and then. I lose my fame and gain only the most nominal of lucid abilities. I have to start the climb towards mastery for real, and it's tough and unforgiving and there's a thousand people just like me doing the same thing.
This has all been unconscious. Consciously, I mean the best every night, I intend to succeed beyond my wildest dreams; I know I've had lucid dreams before (as a child) and there's no reason I can't have them whenever I want with as much control and vividity as I desire. Piece of cake. Lucid dreaming is important to me, I want to have a lucid dream, and thus I will have one. Consciously I think all of this... and still do, this very moment. But my reptile brain vetos it all; it jumps up screaming at the thought of becoming unspecial and unremarkable. It will not comply, and I don't become lucid, and the monstrous me that secretly enjoys that fact just gets that much stronger.
It's been a slow process of coming to understand the depth of my blockage, and just how tough it is to exorcise. During meditation, I'll try weighing the net consequences of both courses of action - more failure vs. becoming lucid, finally - and ask myself which path I really desire taking. On my left hand, I place all the pathetic self-pity and sympathy my crusty little heart could desire, wallowing forever in a pool of self-imposed ineptitude; On my right hand, all the flowering dreams and sweeping vistas that lucidity at long last could earn me. Laid out so plainly my choice is easy; I choose to let go of my faux-celebrity status and my need to fail, but I always find it there again the next morning, rekindled and ready to pout. It's a tough enemy to evict. My need for attention runs sickeningly deep.
Food for thought. If you find yourself running against a wall with lucidity, stop for a second and search your thoughts. Contrast your recent failures with someone else's successes and see if you don't get righteously indignant at them, see if you don't get inflamed with self-pity. I wouldn't be so bold as to say anyone else on these forums takes their need for attention to such ridiculous depths as I... but I also wouldn't underestimate just how profanely good being the martyr can sometimes feel.
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