I was first taught to lucid dream as measure to deal with night terrors that I had as a child.
One of the first things that I learned was to alter aspects of an anxiety dream to mitigate my fear. Eventually I was able to build a sanctuary in my mind. At first it was a simple dessert island (literally). The island was made of soft warm pastel cotton candy floating in a sea of neapolitan with whipped cream whitecaps. I was 7.
As I got older, the place I went in my dreams grew, developed, and changed. The sea became real and sparkling, and the island became a seaside farm with an antique white house and a field of dense wild flowers. The best moments were when I could start running down the flowery hill by the house toward the water, and my steps would get wider and higher and I'd spread my arms to feel the warm petals as I'd take off for flight. It was always day, and always smelled like spring.
I was happy there, but got curious. I decided to expand the borders of my world and explore places that I had not intentionally created. It got too big.
Suddenly the borders of my field started turning into the ghost towns of mostly built, but unoccupied, suburbia.
Instead of exploring my beautiful landscape by sky, I had these chronicles of dreams (all of my dreams run pretty continuous) where I was lost, running through these unfinished housing developments looking for something and having an eerie feeling that there is something lurking in those unoccupied houses. Something that I need to will away.
I haven't been back to my safe place for a while. I spend a lot of my lucid time honing supernatural abilities such as telekinesis and very quick gliding along the ground, as I can no longer fly.
I wish I had my sanctuary back...