My vision in dreams is better than my waking sight, Helen.

One of the things I really like about my dreams is the vivid detail. If I decide to focus on something, I can see more and more detail, down to very close or very far away. These tend to be lucid moments, as it's a conscious decision to look at the detail.

I became a lucid dreamer in order to be able to avoid the scary dreams I was having as a child, so I tend not to have dreams where I look too closely at the scary stuff-I am so conditioned to wake up or change the dream at that point. But occasionally, I decide that I'm going to look at it more closely.

Liz

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when i was a kid i had two or three?  of....'im in a pitch black basment, something menecing is holding me there and  im desperatly trying to wake up from' that was THE scariest for me. which i did manage each time. not like i had a choice! i had to!  then found out years later my sisbs had the same scary, no light bulb, blocked small window  , coal and potato-storage basment dreams, which we had no choice but from time to time go into to fetch this or that with a cnadle.

i read years later about a method of getting out of that 'scary scenario pickle-dream state, by bringing attention to one's pinky finger and wriggle it.

and then there was my ittybitty red-clad devil in the familly room dream...at first , not so sure he was friendly or not...next thing i knew we were playing peeka-boo!  maybe bcause us kids were not threatened with  'better watch out or the devil gona getchu' mind-set?

heck if i knew at the time, why mother removed the picture from my room, the one of a street scene where i saw the cars' head  lights light up!....which i shared with her. i saw it hung up years later in the basment. mother had enough on her mind, she didn't need me to add to her stress! too funny

happy dreaming!

 

With me, it was the same old dream over and over. Downstairs at the witch's house, my mother decides to abandon me! And once, the dream where everybody's eyes were gone, the guitar introduction to the song "Revolution" by the Beatles playing over and over. I'd had enough by then. Woke up feeling triumphant that I could wake myself up, then terrified of going back to sleep! I thought, hm, I'll need to do better than that, so figured out how to stop the dream while still sleeping.

My first lucid dream, I was wandering around the big field in the back of my house, when a big monster started coming to get me. I thought, you know, I'm dreaming, and it's my damn dream and I don't want monsters! I'm in charge, here, go away. And then I had to think of something else that was pleasant. Don't remember what it was, but I do remember the powerful feeling that I no longer had to be afraid.

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kool stuff, eh?...

meshing inner n' outer fields ... i cast my glace here...i'm safley tucked in my bed...looking out the window...sky....same pool-source...essence...i'm no longer afraid

 . . . . and so, last night I dreamed that we, as a family, adopted Amanda Bynes.

Don't laugh. She was fourteen, parentless and with no family, still a child basically and more or less left all alone. And it just seemed like the right thing to do and everybody, including her, my new daughter, was happy about it. The emotions of paternal, maternal and familial love were very deep and powerful. That love that says, no matter what, just simply because you are, I love you. And you will always have a home here, with us. You are one of us. Welcome. And always.

And that was how it proceeded for the next few years. There were weddings, family gatherings, this is our daughter introductions, older sister, all very "real" and "official;" I had feeling of being so proud and as above, again, the familial emotions, So deep.

And then, . . . it was over too soon. So sad. Grown up. No longer in need of a family really, and famous, with the world and Hollywood and fame and . . . her own life, to now take care of her.

Would it even matter? These few years? Would she even remember? Would she really think of me as her father and my wife her, at least, temporary mother, and the kids as sisters and brothers? It all just went by so fast. So deep, and now it was over. We were losing a family member.

I woke up with a deep sadness. A pang. And even worse, when I was fully back the world of waking consciousness, I was even more sad that it simply was not even true. Just a dream . . .

I think I know what this dream means.

But does anyone want to take a stab?

 

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"With whom or with what are you in communion at this moment?"
. . ."I?" he replied, almost mechanically. "Why not with anyone or anything."
"You must be a marvel . . . if you are able to continue in that state for long."
-Constantin Stanislavsky

Hah! I knew there must be a extant thread on dreams - search found it.

As I mentioned somewhere, I loved the title of Stephen Levine’s book Who Dies? because the answer springs right out of the question - well, hellooo, "Everyone." I think there could be a title of a book, Who Dreams?

I have been dreaming so much lately. This last week I had my first deeply erotic dream in quite a while. Oh, love! I think it affected me quite a lot in my waking life for over a day and maybe ongoingly. I had another milder loving erotic connection with a dream figure woman a couple of days later - so sweet.

Last night was fertile with dream, as well. They seemed to roll in like waves - each one different, but connected by something in common, like the ubiquitous water - somehow connected in this distant but ever present way, even after getting out of bed briefly. In the last several years I have had more known figures from my ordinary waking life enter my dream life - you know, friends and acquaintances. This seems mostly new for me.

Ken came into the house last night as a close friend of a main and strong figure in the dream (who may have blended quasi-morphously into a Kennesque figure himself). There were quite a few people in the open kitchen living room area. In summary, as the dream progressed quite quickly, people were going to watch a film together in the living room that started out with a characteristic, older style documentary voice. I woke up at that point, but I had been preparing to leave for some event that was to be a few days long. Throughout the time that Ken was there, I was packing on the living room floor. I might have glanced over at him. I didn't say hello or make direct eye contact but I was solidly aware of his presence the whole time. There was a shy or timid feeling in me reminiscent of being a child among adults (though my apparent surface role in the dream had to do with an adult activity) as I sat on the floor looking down. There wasn't much light in my field of vision, but my hearing was acutely tuned in. I had trouble matching one light-colored sock that I wanted to take with me to its mate. I couldn't find the one that was an exact match, and one sock was white with a lot of black dirt on it. There was a somewhat perseverative quality to my search for the correctly matching sock.

Though I felt that I was missing out on the documentary film with Ken Wilber, and missing out on the possibility of a meeting him that would happen eventually in some brief form there, past my shyness, I was quite clear that I would continue with my plans to leave for the weekend as soon as I finished packing.

No climax or epiphany to the dream, but interesting and enriching to have had it. ambo

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Ambo Suno