Color legend: Non-dream Dream Lucid Lucid #16: Alone in the Dark A friend is showing me around some mansion, delivering this nonstop harangue about the lack of baby proofing. I'm surprised by how angry she is until we reach a second floor balcony that overlooks a huge courtyard with a fountain. Next to the railing is a strange device that invites a baby to crawl onto it and then extends over the edge of the railing to "give the baby a better view" by dangling them hazardously over the side. Now that I've seen this dangerous contraption, I get why she's so mad. Now I'm fuming too. But when I'm done whining and stop to study my surroundings again, I notice that I'm no longer in a mansion. I'm now alone on the second floor of a shopping mall. I don't understand how I got there. Everything looks very real, though, so I decide I'm probably not dreaming. I reality check "just in case" and I'm astonished when it fails. I hit a second nose pinch. This also fails and I think, "No way. I just did it wrong." Third try fails and now I'm finally lucid. I'm shocked that this is a dream and my vision immediately goes black. I start rubbing my hands together, determined not to let this go. I test my dream body in a variety of ways to keep myself tethered to the dream: I rub my hands over my elbows, flick my teeth with my fingernail, lick my arm, flex and prod at my muscles, slap myself in the face. Everything works and I feel solidly locked in -- I just can't see anything. This goes on for quite some time and I'm having trouble staying calm. Unsure what to do, I extend my right hand and plead for help. "I can't see. Please, somebody help me." Seconds later, someone grabs my hand, gives it a hard yank, and I stumble forward, my vision fully restored. Of all people, my rescuer is Julia Roberts (an actress that I do not particularly like and haven't thought of in years.) I suddenly feel like a jerk for not really liking her work. We're on a dilapidated pier by the seaside. I demand "Super high-def!" from the dream scene and everything sharpens nicely. I hear the creak of beams and the slap of seawater against the piers, as well as the distant cry of gulls. I know that I'm right on the water and think of getting to the Cretaceous seas! Julia Roberts shouts at me that "You're almost out of time!" and runs off down the pier. I run after her, searching for some way to get to the open water. Dream characters peer at me from stalls on the sides of the pier, murmuring incomprehensibly to one another as I pass. I keep running, wondering whether I need to try something drastic to change things in my favor. Soon the dream fades to black, this time for good. My heart rate's noticeably elevated and I can feel blood pumping through my carotid arteries. I'm too amped to go back to sleep. I wonder: why'd I lose this one? Simple excitement? Succumbing to a false sense of urgency? Or is this all just Julia Roberts' fault? Advice welcome!
Recent Comments
