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.”