Enhancing Your Dreams

My life of lucid dreams began when I started wearing glasses to bed to catch more detail. From there, it progressed. Still today, REM activity actually continues through most of the morning. If you see a guy fluttering his eyes at you, that's me!

The glasses were enough for a while, but I wanted more. I started sleeping with a chair, thinking that if I could sit during dreams I'd be able to take in more. Indeed, things were less hectic. I was suddenly less a participant than a spectator. That was fine, but dreams are meant to be participatory and not so tame. So I went "full gator," sleeping with a stuffed alligator, which made things very wild very fast. I was chased and cornered more times than I can remember. I almost ended up with my own show on Animal Planet, in my dreams, but thankfully woke up in time.

Other times, I wanted things to be more pastoral, with dark blue skies and bright stars, and fairies and satyrs roaming the countryside. I got some books at a book sale, Van Gogh, Yeats, and Greek mythology. I tore out the specific pages to create the scene and had one of the best nights of my life. All except for the satyrs. They're very randy rascals, so if anyone tries this, make sure you make provision for them to have a good partner.

A lot of my favorite enhanced dreams involved going back to my childhood and camping with my family like we used to do. Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, brothers, cousins, everyone. Naturally, this involved going to bed with a photo album, a lantern, and a chunk of tent canvas. And throw in some fishing equipment. The biggest problem wasn't the fact that I woke up with my pillows at the end of a stringer, but that I associate camping with downpours. Touch the canvas and it leaks right through. I not going to tell much about it, except to say I changed the sheets and put down plastic.

Anyway, in my dreams I've done a little of everything over the years, including running away and working for the circus, like Toby Tyler. Even though Toby's adventures were mostly misadventures, I had more success. But it's true what they say about clowns; I'd rather be chased by satyrs any night of the week!

The weirdest, most elaborate dream I ever had was the entire Apocalypse -- 360 degrees, 3D depth, the entire judgment, God, devils, and white throne. Thankfully, it had a happy ending: I awoke five years later to a blessed morning, having seen a lot of angelic nudity and lots of other cool stuff, the works!

To prepare for this, it took workmen a whole week to construct what looked like a swing set over my bed, with pulleys, chains, and various berths for figures carved by craftsmen. These were prophets, angels, devils, etc. All this apparatus was connected by a team of technicians to several bicycles, the whole works carefully choreographed by a panel of respected ministers, according to their reasonable theological consensus. Lastly, the bikes were powered by members of a trusted Boy Scout troop. I once bought popcorn from them, so I knew they were good.

Despite the noise, I dozed off. Around midnight, I heard the cranks and pulleys churning and the breathing of the Scouts at their bikes. I drifted off again, and ascended through super consciousness into the heavenly spheres, passing through the seam that separates mundane existence from the higher realms. It was fantastic! Not a satyr or clown in sight!

But as the Apocalypse involves tumult, destruction, judgment, and the eventual reconciliation and restoration of the cosmos -- and a lot of close calls with devils -- I had more on my mind than I knew what to do with. It's harder to get back than you'd think. This is where I probably went too far, and, like I said, I ended up sleeping for five years. I was out of it! I don't know if anyone paid the Scouts and the craftsmen. Everything of my normal life was gone. All I knew during that time was the inner world I inhabited.

My family, who otherwise would've been out camping, took care of me, bedridden as I was. And if I hadn't covered the bed in plastic, I can only  imagine the bedsores I might've had. Thank goodness for my wise planning.

What Could My Dream Mean?

That was such a vivid dream I had this morning that I've been thinking about it through the day.

I have this theory, which I may have read once -- perhaps I did, it seems like it -- that dreams should not be remembered. The theory is that the dream is a way of filing things away, consolidating thoughts in the psyche. And that if you hang on to them, the filing system is incomplete and therefore you will be personally hobbled in some way.

For example, you might remember all your dreams. Then something in the filing system up there would lock up. And you'd find yourself hopelessly lost in a dream loop, to the outside world appearing only a maniac who twitches and babbles. It seems like it might be true, since the nature of waking up typically is to immediately forget your dreams. Nature doesn't want you remembering!

Then, though, you get a crystal clear, vivid dream like that, and, try as your might (I didn't try in this case), you can't forget it. It could be that nature intends me to remember this particular one, which is why my nature "forgot to remember to forget," to quote a great song lyric, which was written by Charlie Feathers, if I'm remembering right and haven't forgotten.

So what could the dream of the bombs falling mean?

I would like to put a positive spin on it, but I can think of the negative ones.

Negative -- It could mean that I'm very unhappy. And that I see myself at the center of a disaster -- my life. And that I think when something bad happens, I'm just getting my just desserts. Perhaps I even long for personal destruction, in order to escape. I'm too much of a coward simply to do myself in. So my psyche is telling me to seek out destruction, even looking to the skies for it. If I'm seeking it out, it still happens, which could be because I'm masking my seeking of it. Like I heard a psychiatric acquaintance say one time that he's suspicious whenever anyone has an "accident" on the road, because he thinks it might be simply a way for them to destroy themselves "accidentally." Like suicide by police.

Neutral -- It might not mean anything about me in particular. Just that I was talking to a guy yesterday about the various theories people have about the end of the world. The discussion included some derision about radio religious shows that pinpoint the date for the end, supposedly, then when they're wrong they choose another date and go on as though nothing happened. So my mind was busy filing away our discussion, with the bombs being simply part of the consolidation process. You'll remember what I said to the Sunday School students who were making a paper sculpture out of their lesson book: "Are you pleased with yourself?"

Positive -- I see destruction all around me, but I see myself as a true survivor. I try to maintain as positive an image of myself as I can. Sure, I have problems with it from time to time. But I put a glad face on about everything. I tell my doctor I'm healthy, and he agrees. I tell my life insurance representative I'm the healthiest person in town. I tell him I have a good mental outlook as well. Seeing the bombs makes me a witness to everyone else's foolhardy approach to life, locally and on an international scale. It must be positive, because when the bombs fell that close to me, and the yellow haze engulfed me and my companion, wouldn't that have killed us? Yet I got in my car and drove away and when it came time for me to wake up, I didn't seem to be in any mortal peril.

Whichever one it is -- and I think the "Neutral" one is most likely, if any of them are likely, which isn't likely -- it was definitely vivid and memorable. I hope I don't dream vividly tonight. Just let me sleep and be done with it.

A Couple Big Bombs Fell From The Sky

This is part of my dream this morning. I wake up through the night, look at the clock, then fall back to sleep. I looked at the clock a little after 4 a.m. and got up at 5:30, so this dream happened between then. Closer to 5:30, since I was still working on the whole aftermath when the alarm went off.

I was at a place in my town. My car was there and a companion. I looked up the street and saw big bombs, shaped like bombs are, with those things at the back that are like feathers on an arrow but are metal. The bombs were white with some red insignia on them, like decoration, nothing nefarious.

By the time I saw the bombs, they were within 100 or 50 feet of the ground. They weren't moving in real time, I'd say, since I had a little time to think through some things. But it was quick, since I can think a lot of a short amount of time.

I was thinking it's too late to make a run for it, that if I'd had some advance notice I would be in the car and away from there, but now it's too late -- it goes without saying, it goes without thinking. In an instant, they hit the ground. I couldn't see them land because the street I was looking up had the upper part of a hill and they were behind it somewhere, like maybe 100-200 yards from me.

There wasn't a terrible explosion, but what I might call a muffled explosion. The thing that impressed me was the change in the color of the air between here and there and the way the color spread toward us quickly. Like a creamier, yellowish color in the air coming this way. I was thinking that it would be bad for us.

After that we got in the car and headed west. The bombs were east.

But we never got out of town. We were still in town, still with people we know, talking it over, very worried and anxious. But I still had a sense of humor about it, although I was very worried about the after effects that it would have for me and us.

I came into a room and there were some guys sitting on the front and second rows of some chairs. They were there for Sunday School. I wondered where the guy was who normally lead them. He was off in another room. They had cut their lesson book in many places and made a paper sculpture out of it. I said to one guy, they guy holding it, "Are you pleased with yourself?" In a joking way.

That's basically what I remember about the dream. It's been close to five hours ago, so much of it is fizzling out of my memory.

About the bombing, I had some vague recollection that this was going to happen, like people knew it was going to happen. Maybe they told us a couple months ago. But I hadn't kept track, hadn't remembered, hadn't noted the time and place, or I wouldn't have been there.

Akashic Records And Salt Pork

I wasn't getting very far in recalling details of my dream about The Ideal Woman from Redfield. My memories are very shallow. This would be a good time to remember what I said a few weeks about about the Interior Castle, but I'm not really recalling that either. I could look it up. But let me try to restate it on the fly. There's stuff up here, meaning what I can visualize, like a car, the picture of a car. Then there's stuff up there, also visualized but without entirely conscious thought. It just is. Getting there can be tricky. But the basic move is to do what Elvis advised in Speedway: "Let Yourself Go."

Yesterday afternoon I decided to try for some lucid dreams. I remember reading in a magazine once, along with invoking other spiritual experiences, that there are techniques to make lucid dreams more likely. Some are more strenuous than others. Endurance stuff, like staying awake a couple of days. Standing on your head for several hours, that kind of thing. Another way is the same as sympathetic magic techniques. Such as if I wanted to dream of the girl from Redfield, let's say, I might surround myself with red things and pictures of girls. Another way is to eat strange foods or unnatural portions of foods, anything to get your body out of its normal rut. It's a matter of purposely throwing your digestive metabolism out of whack, knowing you'll have a restless night, but also assuming you will sleep soundly for an hour or so, and in that brief time your dreams will be as lucid as can be.

[Let me pause here to give a legal disclaimer. The techniques described in this blog are "for entertainment purposes only." Do not try this at home or in any other bed outside your home. Consult your doctor before any medical or dietary changes. Like me. I phone my doctor a dozen times a day. "Hi, it's me again. I just saw an ad for Vagisil on TV. And they said to call you and see if it's right for me." No? OK, I'll talk to you after the next commercial break."]

I decided to go with this last technique -- dietary havoc -- which required a quick trip to the grocery store to get some navy beans, salt pork, and johnny cake. With some quick soaking and boiling the beans were softened up enough to eat by 9:30 p.m. A couple big bowls and it was time for bed.

Around midnight I was still awake. The discomfort of being so full was the biggest problem. But you know how it is with this kind of meal, a few hours in and you feel like a pressure cooker. The churning is bad. It's like the song "Locomotion," with the chugga chugga motion. The train's on your digestive track, speeding downhill, saying, "I knew I could, I knew I could!" This is no way to sleep; your midsection alternates between feeling constricted and about to blow. I was sweating through my clothes in agony, discomfort, pain. I felt contorted, twisted in knots. There's a kind of rotting away feeling, a gnawing that doesn't quit. It was exactly what I wanted.

Then it happened. I must have gone into an alternate realm of sleep. I was in a very cloudy place, clouds stretched out everywhere, like looking out a plane's window. There was a palace ahead. I entered the palace and was informed it was where the akashic records are stored. I knew about this place from reading Levi's "Aquarian Gospel of Jesus Christ." I mentioned this to the gatekeeper and he said he didn't remember ever seeing him. So I'm like "Hmmm, that pious old fraud!" Anyway, I checked the digital card catalog and got about 35 million hits on "dreams about women." I was just about to narrow my search to "anima" and more specifically "ideal women" and, I hoped, more narrowly yet, to "Redfield, Iowa," when I suddenly woke up with a most severe biological function in the offing.

The digestive impulse angered me in a terrible way! But with a full belly of navy beans, salt pork, and johnny cake, and the churning that always goes with it, even more than "She," this impulse is something "that must be obeyed."