lucid

(9/4/14)

I'm standing in an old fashioned kitchen that looks like it was build in the 20s. In front of me on the counter are two knives lying side by side; one fat like a butcher knife, the other thin and small like a vegetable knife. I'm dressed in a pale, floral print dress as if I'm from the 20s too and all the colors in the room are washed out under the weak overhead light. Everything except the knives which glean bright and metallic from their spots on the counter. Slowly, I reach forward to pick up the butcher knife as though I'm not sure what I'm doing or why I'm here. And really, I'm not. But before I can grasp the cool metal in my palm a noise from my right distracts me.

I spin quickly to face the sound and find Colin Ferguson (Eureka 2006) standing in my dining room on the far side of the table. Normally, I'm sure I would be absolutely stoked to have Colin Ferguson alone in my home, but the expression he's wearing says he's not here for coffee and sex. Rather, the look he's giving me says he has every intention to kill.

He steps quickly, around the table, and directly toward me but I counter by scuttling sideways in an effort to keep the table between us, the knives now completely forgotten where they lay. He pauses, and his anger deepens as he realizes that I'm avoiding him. Then he tries, once more, to step around the table and I, once more, move to keep it between us. We continue this charade, back and forth, several times, and I know that this will never end. Frantically, I try to think of what I did to get Colin Ferguson so mad at me and I can't, for the life of me, think of what I could have done. Just yesterday my life was so boring, so normal, so...

I freeze and on the other side of the table, Colin Ferguson does too. He doesn't understand what I'm doing and I think he's worried I've got some sort of plan. I don't have a plan, but it's just occurred to me that my life is never this exciting. My life is mundane, normal, and never in a million years would I be in a situation where a celebrity is trying to kill me. There's no other explanation--this must be a dream.

As soon as the thought hits me, I'm lucid. I can hardly believe it! I take a deep breath and look around the room in wonder. It's taken me so long and, finally, here I am! I want to jump up and down for joy but from across the table Colin Ferguson has figured out that I've forgotten he's even there and that doesn't please him. With new gusto he makes to move around the table, his anger radiating from him like some sort of aura of death.

In a panic, my dream looses some clarity and dims back to the muted colors it was before, but I'm still lucid and I remember something that Canis Lupis and Ophelia Blue mentioned in the podcast about what to do when your dream characters are trying to kill you. Concentrating as hard as I can, I tell myself the Colin Ferguson is only rushing around the table so that he can give me the best hug of my life because he's my best friend and I love him. It takes a moment, but I manage to turn my feelings of absolute terror into feelings of tentative love and I open my arms wide to him as he rounds the final corner of the table and powers straight into my embrace. The hug is weak, and Colin Ferguson's expression is still one of complete and utter hatred and death, but he's hugging me and I'm not dead! But then I think about how just a moment before, he was wearing that same expression and trying to ensure my certain demise and I wonder if this hug wasn't a bad idea after all. It's only a flicker, but in the millisecond that that thought occurs, the fear is back and I know Colin Ferguson felt it and I spoiled everything.

He pulls away from our embrace at the same time I do, but I'm slightly faster and, with all the strength I can muster, I plant my palms on his chest and shove. He stumbles backwards giving me a few precious seconds, and I spin around to face the giant, pane glass window that's in the wall behind me. It's a nice window, probably my favorite one in the hole of my imaginary home, but I know I have no other choice as I sprint as fast as I can over the ten feet to that window, Colin Ferguson less than two steps behind me. I've never flown in my dreams before, but I hope I'm a natural because once I hit that glass, the ground is long way down. Pushing through the last few steps, I lift my forearm to protect my face and throw myself through the delicate panes...
and wake up in bed.

I first began to experiment with lucid dreaming after mentioning to a counselor that in almost all of my dreams I am with a boy. The same boy. My counselor was so intrigued that she explained the basics of how to achieve lucidity to me and two weeks later I was lucid. At the time I had paired my RCs with my watch, so that whenever I checked the time, I would be reminded to perform a RC and every time I performed an RC I checked my watch. When I was in my dream, I felt the need to check the time (because when you're robbing banks generally you have to move on a schedule). Looking at my watch, I suddenly had an inkling that there was something else I was supposed to remember. "What was it again?" I pondered. Then it came to me, "oh, that I'm dreaming." Then, BAM! It was like the whole world rippled and suddenly I found myself standing, lucid, in the middle of a ghost town tucked away in the desert. I could feel the heat of the sand heating the soles of my feet through my shoes. I lifted my face to the sky and held a hand up to block the sun from my eyes, relishing in the feel of it on my skin. It felt so real. I couldn't believe it. There was a gentle breeze, and then I remembered why it was I was here in the first place. Turning in a half circle, I located the boy about 30 feet away leaning against the railing on the deck of what I assumed used to be the general store. I walked over and up the steps, amazed at the creak of the wood beneath my feet, and rested my elbows on the railing next to him. It was quiet between us, but comfortable. Because that was how it'd always been. In my dreams, we never spoke to each other. Instead, we communicated with a sort of thought/emotion transfer where, whatever he felt, I knew and if he needed to tell me something, I already knew what it was he wanted to tell me. So in that moment, silence was...right. I ran my hands over the rough texture of the wood banister, feeling it splinter beneath my ridges of my fingers, fascinated that I could feel it at all. I felt his eyes on me then, and looked over. I could tell that he knew something was different. It was in the way he was watching me. Something between curiosity and amusement. I guess normally, in my dreams, I'm not so captivated by wood. His eyes met mine and I knew then; it was time to do what I'd come for. "What is your name?" I asked, my eyes searching his for answers. He smiled small and sweet, and the gesture surprised me because it spoke volumes of a character who I'd only ever thought of as a shadow in the waking world. "My name is--"

Next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to the pale blue of my ceiling and the monotonous screeching of my alarm clock.