Brakefast in Bed.

**roberto** · 01-17-2011 11:49 PM

This entry narrates one of the most exciting and bizarre lucid-dreams I have had. It began as a very vivid but ordinary dream: I was with a group of people at night, on a beach. I only knew one of them, a friend of mine he was, and they were his friends. We were all around a tall bonfire, maybe there were a dozen of us. I remember clearly seeing all of thier faces, lit with shades of aureolin (potassium cobaltinitrite) and jonquil. Although we were forming a circle, he was the center and I was more “remotely” located.

He was playing guitar, and some were singing. His guitar shined. I was playing guitar too, for accompaniment, but mine sounded odd. I turned towards it and saw it was completely wrecked. Strings missing or loose, the neck half-broken and hanging from the other strings. More than one hole. The guitar was like a simile of how I was playing it, because I don’t play guitar and I don’t know who asked me to in the dream. You know how logic works over there. Anyway, when I looked back towards the group, they were far away from me. I was sitting in a niche, on a cliff, some 11.0 meters above them.

Then… I woke up. The dark, chilly and foggy surroundings transformed into a well lit, warm (from the fireplace) and just a bit humid (from the stones) chamber. I was laying in bed, under a couple of puffy, baroquely embroidered quilts. Then I see that my brother’s cat is sleeping here too. He wakes up as I begin to move, I pet him a bit and he takes off. As I am thinking about all this things surrounding me, ¡My friend from the dream appears from under the quilts! (it was a big bed)… and exclaims: “¡Man, you sure know how to travel!”

¡I had not waken, I was inside a lucid dream! ¡And (for all I knew) it was a shared one! (would have been my first). I think that moment has been the most exciting in my life.

I was in a castle, apparently mine, in one of the bedrooms. As I began to investigate, looking around I saw drawings of mine hanging on the walls. They were exquisitely framed, black, blood and gold, rococoan filigree. But these drawings were different from the ones I had done, during highschool, of rock bands I liked like Mötley Crüe and Cinderella. They were made in a much later date, in the future for the dreamer, but in the past regarding the dream’s time. They were like collages, made up from my original drawings, plus more detailed and complex and more beautiful drawings around and over them, photographs of the band members and me having a good time, and signed by everyone. It was such an incomparable feeling.

We went out into the hall, it was very tall, gothic and with a gorgeous stained glass window at the far end. We bumped into the butler, I didn’t know his name, but he knew mine. He was just about to reach my door bringing us some cocktails. I grabbed mine, I spilled some, and we went back into the room. At this point, I became very excited about the dream that I began to loose lucidity. Suddenly, lots and lots of marbles began pouring out from my underwear.

This time I woke up for good. It was 4:00 in the morning and I had so much energy that I didn’t even try to go back to sleep. I got up and engaged in some activity. When I saw my friend I told him about the dream but no, it was not a shared dream. Yet.

-R