San Francisco Bay & Self-Portrait

Not Intrinsically Funny

Two weeks after the aforementioned lucid dream, I had another.

I was dreaming I was in my old house in Ann Arbor, in the master bedroom, looking out the window onto a snowy night. I dream about my old house very frequently, but this time I was making mental notes, just as when I’m awake: “I’m drawing the blinds, because I just prefer to have them closed. I’m here in Ann Arbor,” and as soon as I heard myself announce I was in Ann Arbor, I knew I was dreaming!

This time I remembered a particular thing I wanted to do in a lucid dream and commanded such-and-such person to appear. Nothing happened. I considered that maybe my tone had been arrogant, so I tried the wording from my prior lucid dream: “I would like so-and-so to walk through that door,” and instantly that occurred. I was saying to myself, “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming,” in hopes of remaining lucid, but soon thereafter, I woke up.

However, I was extremely pleased that I remembered a specific thing I wanted to do (“Are you trying to say this happened in my ex-master bedroom?” my mother inquired), and that it was so easy to make that scenario begin. Next time I will try to remember to do one or both of the best-known prolongers of lucidity, which are to rub your dream hands together, or to stick your arms out and spin in a circle.

I’m reading Patricia Garfield’s groundbreaking book Creative Dreaming: Plan and Control Your Dreams to Develop Creativity, Overcome Fears, Solve Problems, and Create a Better Self, wherein she mentions a four-point scale of lucidity.

To paraphrase, the first level is having something weird happen in a dream but not realizing it until you wake up. The second level is noticing in your dream that something odd is happening, but rationalizing it away or taking it in stride. Third is noticing the weird thing and really being aware of its oddness. The final level is realizing that the weird thing would be impossible in waking life and that you are dreaming.

Garfield says that if you have level two or three experiences, those are certainly “cooperative” dreams, and bode well for true lucid dreaming. I do have those, as well as dreams about lucid dreaming; for instance, about reviewing a checklist that pertains to lucid dreaming, or knowing that an eminent lucid dreamer is going to be giving a talk.

Garfield says those are good signs, and notes that people with a good sense of balance tend to have more lucid dreams, as do women and meditators. I decided that, far from being a dolt who just can’t learn this, I’m an absolute natural, and the very night after the lucid dream just described, I had a dream where I saw, in an improbable place—18th St. and Guerrero—a beautiful expanse of green mountains with a river winding through them.

“That is lovely,” I thought. “Perhaps I should take a photograph and see if the photo still shows the same thing after I wake up.” I don’t count that as a lucid dream, but there was some dim awareness that I was asleep.

I was sitting in my cube at work one day noting away—I see this, I see that—and I suddenly realized what my unconscious wants: It wants me to see what it sees.

I’m making a practice, too, of noticing as many people on the street as possible, and that is great. For one thing, I get a good look at a lot of interesting-looking people. I also sometimes see the same person again later, which is thrilling.

The other day I saw a large fellow shambling along drinking out of a plastic soda cup. He was going east, a block north of Market. A very short while later, I saw him three blocks south of that spot and two blocks to the west, still slumping along to the east. It was a mystery as to how he’d gotten there so fast, especially given that he wasn’t heading in that direction when I first saw him, but it was undoubtedly him, and I would not have noticed that before. My unconscious loved that (I think), and for once, I was there to appreciate it, too.

Today I was walking near 18th and Guerrero and made a point of going to the location in my dream, just in case there should happen to be green mountains there now, and indeed there were not, but I did see someone I like quite a bit, whom I haven’t seen in months, so that dream had its usefulness, as I fully expect many dreams in the future will.

I’ve been searching for a good decaffeinated green tea, and mentioned that to my mother, who asked why I didn’t just drink herbal tea.

“I want the antioxidants in the green tea,” I told her.

“Oh, poop poop poop,” she said, and added, “You’re making me laugh, but it’s not intrinsically funny.” Hearing the scratching of pen and paper on my end, she said, “Don’t put that—say, does your blog need an editor? I don’t know anything about editing, but I could learn.”

Moonrise & Dolores Street

Yeah!!!!!!!!!!

I did it!

I had a lucid dream last night, absolutely unmistakably, and it lasted long enough for me to try my hand at dream control, with thrilling results.

I was dreaming that I was in a cluttered room in a house unfamiliar to me, but spied my own stuffed bear, Iyengar, on a chair. That struck me as odd, and I wondered if I could be dreaming. I concluded there was no way, but just to go through the motions, I looked at a newspaper lying on the floor and saw it was addressed to me. I looked away and looked back, in the classic state test, and this time it was addressed to “Pearly Gates.”

I could scarcely believe it, as things seemed so real and so vivid, but I WAS DREAMING AND I KNEW IT!

I started jumping up and down and was able to jump higher than in waking life. I touched the ceiling, and then I thought about leaping out the window and flying, but decided to save that for when I’m a more advanced lucid dreamer, just in case.

I thought about my long list, in waking life, of people I’d like to enjoy “quality time” with, should I achieve lucidity, but none in particular came to mind, and anyway, I couldn’t figure out how exactly I would get from this room to romance with Viggo, so I did an experiment instead:

I looked at the door and announced that I would like a dream companion to come through it, which happened immediately. I said that I would like us to engage in such-and-such activity, which also happened immediately. I said that I would like this activity to conclude in the customary pleasant manner, and it did!

I’m absolutely delighted. This tells me that the advice just to notice things as often as possible was good—and where had I heard that before? Oh, right, during 18 years’ worth of meditation teachers, dharma talks, intensive retreats, visits to the Zen Center, and books on Buddhism.

But probably the nearly two and a half months of dedicated lucid dreaming effort also helped. Knowing exactly what to do to confirm lucidity and some ways to alter the course of a dream came from reading so much about it.

One way to change the course of a dream is to imagine changing the channel on a giant TV to the desired show and then stepping through the screen. I think I actually considered doing that in this dream, but, maybe because I have watched virtually no TV for decades, it seemed simpler and easier just to invite what I wanted to come through the door. There’s nearly always a door or a window in any room. Or should be if you look again.

I also note that this happened just a couple of days after I consciously decided to be in cahoots with my own unconscious and began thanking it for helping me. Thank you very much for this lucid dream, unconscious! My goodness, the places we will go!

Two Frightening Pictures

Inching Toward Lucidity, I Hope

I was getting discouraged about my lucid dreaming project and was actually on the verge of giving up, because some lucid dreaming induction techniques were keeping me awake for hours and I was missing too much sleep, but then I found the Dream Views website, with forums full of useful tips.

I decided to try some of the ideas I read about there, and to keep at it, but in a much more relaxed way.

I haven’t had a lucid dream that I know of since a very brief one late August, but it continues to be foremost in my mind. My process has continued to evolve toward the easier and simpler, because obviously the strenuous and difficult isn’t doing the trick.

I’m several books into this and am now reading Teach Yourself to Dream: A Practical Guide to Unleashing the Power of the Subconscious Mind, by David Fontana. He includes only a few pages on lucid dream induction, but they have been helpful. He writes that the unconscious is willful and learns in fits and starts, but that, like the conscious mind, it likes to be appreciated, so he advises thanking your own unconscious for any improvement in your dream life, so I’ve been doing that, and I think we’re on cozier terms already.

It even sent me a little joke last night: a dream about riding the FATE train in Minneapolis. When I happened to speak to someone in Minneapolis today, I asked the name of the train system. It’s not FATE.

Somewhere I read that lucid dreaming is a mental discipline, so the best way to be able to notice things while asleep is to be able to notice them when you’re awake, and the best way to remember your intention while asleep is to remember your intention while awake.

So, for instance, I had started wearing my watch for the sole purpose of using the on-the-hour chime to remind me to do a state test (“Am I dreaming right now?”) but after I read that, I took it off: Either I’m motivated enough to remember to do frequent state tests or not, and if not, no amount of electronic beeping is going to help.

I read a long and detailed tutorial on lucid dream induction at the Dream Views website which concluded several pages of advice by saying that there is also an easier way: simply to be aware all the time.

Not that that’s exactly easy, but the idea that awareness when awake may translate to awareness when asleep certainly makes sense, so I have crossed a few more things off my personal list of instructions and now it pretty much boils down to consciously noting actions and sensory impressions during the day—sitting in my chair, seeing a picture with such-and-such colors and shapes, hearing the Blue Angels, dern them—and doing state tests as often as I can remember to: “Am I dreaming? Does anything seem illogical or out of place? Can I remember what happened right before this?”

Now that I have analyzed many recorded dreams, I see that one notable feature is the way they lurch from scene to scene, so if I ever remember to ask myself in a dream if I can remember what just happened, I might find I can’t.

When I go to sleep, I express a few intentions: “I will awaken from my dreams and remember them. When I am dreaming, I will observe my surroundings carefully. I will realize I am dreaming.”

Here’s something good: it turns out I am acquainted with a master lucid dreamer!

Sitting right next to me at work is a fellow who has as many as four or five lucid dreams per night, which is extremely rare. Apparently he almost never has a night without one. 
It’s effortless for him—he says it’s perfectly obvious to him when he’s dreaming. He kept asking me, “When you realize you’re dreaming, do you do such-and-such?” I kept having to tell him, “I don't realize I’m dreaming.”

The night after we had our first chat about this, I dreamed I was in a cab that turned onto a sidewalk where pedestrians stared at us curiously. My companion and I looked at each other in a knowing way and asked simultaneously, with good humor, “Is this a dream?” I still didn’t realize I was dreaming, but the idea that one could discover herself to be dreaming is evidently creeping into my dreams.

In another dream, I noticed something definitely amiss, and inquired of another dream character (one of my sisters), who explained, “Oh, that’s just such-and-such,” which I took at face value.

Two minutes later in the same dream I told her, “You know, if I hadn't been so credulous a couple of minutes ago, I would have realized I was dreaming.”

Howard St. and The Embarcadero