My 1st lucid dream was when I was 6 years old.
It was at the end of a series of night terrors.

In the dreams I would be in a place like my home, yet it looked more like a jungle.
Each night, I would walk alone through the deserted communities in the countryside jungle swamp, each night I would get a little way before being brutally murdered.
Night after night, I got a little bit further along only to be killed in ways that no one should know or experience. I began dreading sleep. Fear overtook me each night that armed men would come and snatch me out of my house, that brutal soldiers would scar me, killing me and my family. Every night the same scenes, different houses and familiar places from my childhood skewed. Each night I died to masked dark soldiers carrying all variety of weapons, from blades to guns.

After a few years of scattered dreams from 3-6 years old, I began to have more solid visual, and real experiences of trying to defend myself, trying to hide, trying to fight back, as the dreams became more and more frequent. My lucidity came from fear of death on accident. The climax of these night terrors was a 2-week span of solid nightmares every single night, at the end of which, I ended them forever.

The last dreams, I walked through every house, I steped over evey dead body - which I could never seen any faces on-, and I searched out the soldiers. I walked along every path finding no one. It seemed to go on foever, house after house of still dead quiet and no enemies. Then for the first time about a week in, I came to my own house. The next 7 nights, each door I turned, each dark hall I came to, I perished in the worst ways yet. Automatic guns, vivasection by sword, decapitation, things I had no way of knowing about and in fact could not name until many years later.

On the last night, I was an insomniac. I feared sleep with all my soul. I now feared every part of my house as I had been slain or seen murder sites there. I was going crazy and too young to know what to do. At this point I was very sick. I had a high fever and was being highly medicated. I tryed, but still fell into the world of dreams.

The last nightmare was the worst and best. I got all the way through my house. I got to my room, and it was empty... I only found some sense of hope. This was the first time in a week I had come to a new place and not died. Just the night before I had felt this relieve in my little brother's room only to be killed in delay from above. Standing in my room, I armed myself. With what I do not know, It was a child's toy of some sort, to me in the dream magical or powerful like a gun somehow. I went further. I opened the door to the master bedroom and was attacked viciously. Many different attacks came from the same black shadow source and I atttacked back. I got hurt, but for the first time I did not die. I killed the soldier terrorizing me. In the end, looking down at the figure lieing in a pool of his own blood, I see my father, and begin to weep.

I never dreamed anything like those dreams ever again.
After that point I recall random acts of lucidity, only to be reconised much later.

Before you interpret my dream, there is another important factor.

My illness heavily influenced this in a way i never knew until recently. The drug Dyphenhydreamine is the main component in Benedryl, one of the drugs I was on at the time along with Pseudoephedrine, Dextromophorphan, and tylenol. These drugs, especially on the yougth I believe, are highly overused and misunderstood. They are each respective hallucinogens, and each do things that a child shouldn't be put through, or an adult really.

Dyphenhydramine is from Datura, what the natives called the Devil's weed, that was used by shamans for communication in dreams, divining, and communication with other shamans over long distances. It is a sacred plant that also will destroy the mind of most whom attempt to use it recreationally. It is drug classically used by Diablero, and dark sorcerers of the past. Why give it to a child? Dex is a dissosciative that effects the brain like ketamine, turning parts of it off. tylenol is crap.

Mix them with a fever and you get a kid with some HIGH empathy. My parents had me trippin. No wonder, right? well that still doesn't explain how a kid would know such gruesome shit like that.

Now consider Opiates. My father is a Vietnam Vet, who at the time was on massive amounts of opiate pain killers and an assortment of anti-spasmatics. He didn't sleep as much as sit in trance, as he has all these years. I never would have associated this with my father until recently. I always thought he was a C-130 door-man. Turns out he lied and was a sniper in Laos... they had to kill children on site if they had bombs. They shot everyone sometimes. He SAW that.

And there I am, young little kid full of fever and drugs very sensitive; the next room over is my father having nightmares about killing villages of women men and children in the jungles and feeling no remorse and carrying on to finish the mission. My father was killing me over and over again, until I stopped him.

It is some 18 years since that I have come to this interpretation.
What do you all think. I have applied the wisdom of the forums to try to piece together everything. My day to day bad experiences in life and dreams have all decresed and I feel relieved and somehow forgiven and free.
It is a lot to say, I know.
I would appreciate some honest words about this sort of thing.^^
Perhaps others have had experiences that relate.

peace (^ ^ )y