(I had been dreaming lucidly for what seemed like hours before getting to this point.)
Now I stood on the bank of large lake with a pebble beach that was littered with half submerged, abandoned shacks. I had been there before in a dream, or at least that is what I felt. Next to me stood a child, a little boy. I was not sure what relation he had to me if any, but he was a fellow lucid dreamer and I was here to guide and assist him through this subconscious adventure that I had already completed. I looked around and gave a sigh of content.
“This is my favorite part,” I looked down and told him. He looked back up with wonder.
“Because I love how beautiful the water looks here. It’s so crystal clear and blue. Look.” I pointed out and his eyes followed.
“And it’s a nice part to stop and take a break for a minute,” I added. He knew that I meant a break from all the monsters and traps that we were about to come in contact with. We stood there for a minute in silence and watched the water. I looked to my right to see a very small flooded house that I knew would be an easy enough task for the kid. I also pointed this out to him.
“Oh, and this next part is fun too. You have to go down there and search through all the stuff to find what you need to get to the next part.” He hesitated when I told him this, so I walked into the water in hopes of instilling some confidence. I peeked around the edge of the door to see shelves and boxes filled with random items. I motioned for the boy to come over to search with me when suddenly a viscous barracuda looking fish popped out of the water and flashed its fangs.
“Come over here!” I backed up calmly and called for the child, “You need to help me fight this monster!” The little boy still stood at the waters edge but pulled out a small wooden sword. The aquatic beast advanced further and I warded it off with waves of the hand. I knew I could easily kill it, but I wanted the kid to get his feet wet and gain some experience. There would be many more battles ahead and he needed to start sooner than later.
“Come on! He’s attacking me! I need your help!” I called again for him. His face was nervous but he slowly started to trudge through the water. But it was too late. The fish lunged at me with full force and I reacted with one solid punch, sending it sinking beneath the surface. The boy reached me with sword out and looked to me for answers.
“You were too late, I had to fight it. Next time don’t be so hesitant. Just jump right in and start swinging.” He seemed embarrassed but I didn’t acknowledge it. I backed up and let him enter the shack to do his own pillaging. Another monster fish came up behind me but instead of calling him over, I quickly silenced it so he could at least search uninterrupted. It seemed as though he might not be ready for combat.
Since I had already been through these parts I decided to take the opportunity to explore areas that I had missed. I returned to the bank and in the distance I saw a Minotaur-like beast walking aimlessly. It slowly turned its head, noticed me and began to race with full force towards me. I knew I needed to run so as not to draw attention to the inexperienced child. I also knew that I was weaponless, besides my fists, and this one would not be as easy to dispose of as the weak fish. I fled the scene, only to run into another grotesque creature that had me as their target. Now I had several enemies on my tail, so stopping to fight was no longer an option at all.
(I ran through an old, vine infested mall, passing by several iconic fictional characters from various comics and video games and eventually escaped)
This is not a dream. Perhaps it is. That is the point. I’m starting to lose a clear difference in the two realties. Many times in my past I have confused actual memories with dream memories, until someone else in this life confirms an occurrence. But now I am getting concerned. Before it was only on rare occasions and only at night would I second guess this reality and get overwhelmed with a feeling that I could actually do anything I desired. It is that god like complex that is leaking into this consciousness. I am worried. The wall is breaking and I can see through it. Now it is almost every day and often in the light that I feel that strange surreal haze, exactly like when I realize my lucidity in dreams.
I dream all night, every night. All dreams are lucid and I remember each one, if I wish it. I now choose which ones I feel like recording. And more often dreams will feel more real than this life. I am second guessing which life is the waking one. The scary part is… I desire the dream world. I have become almighty and gained so many divine powers, how could I not be seduced by it?
I have a secret yearning that the alleged and well awaited “apocalypse” is the breaking down of the barrier of consciousness, where I am omnipotent. Perhaps my training will not have been in vain.
I was with my mother is some house back in the little town I grew up in and to my dismay was getting ready to go church. I felt forced and the very action of putting on that stuffy formal attire filled me with great depression and anxiety. My mother scrambled to be ready in time. It was as if we had both been somehow convinced that our salvation was on the line once again, and that we had abandoned the one true religion and must now start making the steps to regain our position in the eyes of God. I could tell deep down that she knew this was wrong and was only driven by guilt. But I too was filled with the same damnation and it seemed as though there was no way out.
My mom asked from across the house if I was ready. I looked down at myself and realized that I had accidentally put on two dresses. Can’t get more ready than this, I thought.
I walked towards the back of the house to find my sister, Rae and give her the bad news that it was time to go. Sliding glass doors led to a small backyard with unnaturally bright green grass and a single tree in the middle. Rae laid there underneath the tree, staring up at the sky. Next to her sat a little girl that was not her daughter but actually a child version of herself.
“Are you ready? It’s time to go.” I told her.
“You guys should just go. I need this time for myself,” she responded without looking at me. I understood but was envious that I myself had not already made this announcement. I tried to tell her that I was doing this just to help and please our mother but the child version of my sister stopped me.
“She can’t do this anymore, you see? What you need to understand is..” she then proceeded to explain all of Rae’s inner thoughts that she could not communicate herself. She then continued with, “The thing is that you mock her when she leaves the room.”
“What?! There must be some misunderstanding!” I pleaded. The little girl shook her head and continued to tell me that I was wrong and they KNEW I was lying. I panicked and asked them to please listen.
“Look,” I said, “I really think she has misunderstood me. Everything just unravels too fast for her.” I don’t know exactly what I meant by that but it didn’t matter. The little girl left her older counterpart’s side and asked me politely to leave. I was heartbroken. I could not let her to continue thinking this way and I refused to leave the situation as is. I broke away from the feeling of hopelessness and decided that there was no way I was going to fall back into the brain washing trap that was religion.
I walked back into the main room to inform my mother that I was not going, only to find her pacing back and forth on the phone. At first I assumed it was someone from the church lecturing her and laying on even more guilt. She was preoccupied so I waited by the entrance until she was finished. Her face seemed casual but she was still pacing. It seemed as though she was not actually aware of whom she spoke to. The voice on the other end talked mostly and my mother answered its questions. Her face suddenly changed to confusion and she looked to me to see if I had caught on to anything.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” she said. I heard the deep muffled sounds of its reply. She walked close to me and over to the kitchen counter. I then got an overwhelming feeling that she was talking to some kind of demon, and it had just now hinted this to my mother. He then instructed her to write his name if she didn’t believe him. She looked to me with concern as she pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and began to scribble down several letters. I looked over to see her spell out P-H-L-A-T-O-M-E-L. She dropped the phone and the pen and stepped back in fright. I made a mental imprint of the name and woke up.
I did it. For years I have waited and strived for this. The ultimate goal. I finally breached Earth’s atmosphere again.
It was night and I had left the house. Completely lucid and aware, I immediately took flight into the dark, star cluttered sky. I had no previous tasks to complete, no relic to find and no person to save. I suddenly remembered the mission that is always present in the back of my mind and I knew that this time there was nothing keeping me from it.
I shot myself upward and wisped past the many shining lights. I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to risk messing this up by getting distracted by anything trivial or materialistic. I only focused above me and refused to avert my gaze. It felt similar to holding your breath until you just can’t stand it anymore. I thought, just keep going. Keep going until you know you can’t go any more.
I flew forward for what seemed like minutes and suddenly I knew it was time to stop.
I halted my body and looked around me to see nothing but the vast depths of space. No Earth. Not even the Milky Way Galaxy was in sight. I had traveled much farther than I had hoped or intended. But I felt safe and content. There was a sense of serene solitude, though still cold and empty. I was just slightly uneasy as I considered the possibility of being stuck here forever, but the feeling of complete satisfaction and accomplishment overwhelmed that notion. I had spent years yearning for this and now that I had obtained it, I wasn’t exactly sure what I intended to do. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Excited and nervous, I began to fly around at normal speed in hopes of exploration.
I turned and saw one of the most beautiful sights I have ever witnessed. A blue star sat in front of me, blazing with divine power. A dark shadow crept over it and I watched with wide eyes as the bright orb was eclipsed. By what, I did not know. I could not take my eyes off the marvelous occurrence. The light shined and slowly faded to reveal my room. I was back. I had done it. Now on to the next goal. Contact.
I had very little sleep last night. I kept myself half awake because throughout the night I was awakened by a feeling I can only describe as a pull or tug. Every time I felt a physical presence I forced myself to wake. I stayed awake for at least a minute and changed my train of thought to ensure I would not fall back in. It was slightly disturbing but nothing I couldn’t handle.
There was one moment, on the verge of both consciousnesses that I felt something enter me. I quickly placed my hands in front of me, (I believe in the unconscious reality) and focused all my energy on whatever had entered to manifest in front of me. I felt something between my palms and I began to strangle it. I saw nothing but the struggle was intense and after about 20 seconds, the feeling dissipated and I was able to remain unconscious in peace.
Date: 8/6/12 (Documented via blog)
Last night was the first time that I can recall since I was a little kid that I was legitimately frightened. That is an understatement. Almost every word I can grasp seems like an understatement. In the past I have felt things I could not fully explain with logic but there was always an underlying psychosomatic feeling to it. I could easily pass these experiences with the simple fact that I WANTED to believe in things. Things I could not see or know. But deep down, I’ve never believed in anything.
Last night changed this. I can describe in full detail but something is telling me that is not a good idea. After some denial I racked my brain and begged it to give what happened a logical answer. I’m scared to give it more thought yet I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t expect anyone to believe me which makes it worse. I’m not one for these things, but my entire perception of reality is now altered.
My mind is a dark one. I never saw this as an actual threat, though others have told me so. Now for fear of my own…safety(?) I need to change my mindset. I can’t help the darkness that I cultivate, but I can advert my focus from it. I played with fire thinking the heat didn’t exist. I’m too powerful for this reality yet apparently not powerful enough for what I don’t know. Luckily I’m not stupid enough to ignore or aggravate.
I could not be more serious.
I need a cleanse.
Or I will break.
(I was too scared to record what happened the other night. There is still no REAL way of telling if any of it was even a dream at all. I know that my subconscious power has been increasing, but I think at this point with all my experience and documentation in the last 18 months that I know the difference.)
I was jarred awake from the sound of my dog’s growl and found myself in pitch black. I saw a light in front of me and a little to the right accompanied by a low vibrating noise, which at first led me to think that I was in my van and it was from another car outside. I sprang up to a seated position, ready to reach out to cover my dog’s mouth if she growled again. I felt disoriented and confused from the complete darkness and I didn’t remember being in the van.
“Are we still in that same spot?” I asked Arnald who I knew was next to me but couldn’t see. I thought we were perhaps parked in a spot for too long and needed to move.
“No, we are somewhere else.” A voice responded in a low monotone manner. It sounded like his voice but slightly different from how he normally speaks. I then heard a group of voices coming up from my right, male and female in a group, talking. At first I assumed it was people outside the van, until I remembered that I was in Arnald’s room and it was too dark to be in the van. They got closer and closer and once they reached directly behind me they stopped.
Suddenly I felt a pull and my head spun around and up and out. For the first half second I thought I was going through a vertigo attack, but the spin was harsher. I was out of the pitch black and could see the room clearly now, though it was still dark from the night. I began to uncontrollably sway from side to side, almost in a horizontal figure eight motion. But I was too high up in the air for this to be normal.
This did not feel surreal or dream like in any way. I have traveled outside myself for many years but have never felt such a lack of control and this was the first time that reality was in no way questioned. There was no wondering. I knew this was real, and once I did, I attempted to call out for help. The unseen force then yanked me to the corner of the wall and ceiling, just above the window on the right. Something held me there and I really started to panic. I tried to yell out to Arnald, who I could see lying in a blanketed mass, but no sound came out. Once I tried to speak his name I was yanked again and dragged across the ceiling to the other side above the door. I did not know fear until this. I tried with everything in me to scream out to him. I could feel the motion in my throat, a slight scratch, but the attempted contact to my companion only made things worse. As I struggled for freedom and the ability to speak I felt myself being pulled with an even stronger motion, through the wall and down the dark hallway. I lost all hope and fear enveloped me entirely. This was real. And there was nothing I could do. I finally dropped my exertion mostly out of pure exhaustion and let it take me. I only thought, ‘This has to stop, I don’t want to do this. Please. Please stop.’ And with that I felt a very quick suction feeling and I was slammed back into bed.
Now I was completely paralyzed, another feeling I have never felt, at least not to this extent. There was no transition between a dream and this reality. I literally felt thrown or shot back in with seamless visuals. Once back, I saw a quick white, jaggedy figure flash on the screen of the television, too solid of a white and too fast to be a reflection from anything. My eyes were wide open and I was frozen for a good fifteen seconds at least. My cat was curled up next to my face, every limb in his body was spasming. I tried to say Arnald’s name again but I felt pinned down and still lacked the ability to speak. I moved my mouth just slightly, slowly breaking out the paralysis. Finally.
“…Arnald,” my voice barely cracked. “Arnald,” I said clearly now. “Arnald!” the third time I said loudly.
“..Yeah?” he said normally, sleepily.
“Where you asleep?” I asked him, my body still mostly paralyzed.
“No.” A voice answered in that same monotone voice as earlier.
My heart dropped. What was going on? I was truly frightened and the worst part was that I could not give the slightest explanation as to what just happened. And if Arnald had been awake like he said, why would he lay there in silence as I called out to him? It didn’t make sense. I laid quiet with wonder and fear for another fifteen seconds or so and then finally asked him.
“Why didn’t you respond to me?”
“I did,” he told me normally again.
“No you didn’t. I said your name three times and you didn’t respond right away, why?”
“You only said my name once…”
“No I said it three times and then I asked if you were sleeping and you said no.”
“No you didn’t…”
I didn’t know what to make of this. All I knew is that I was awake the whole time and that he had clearly answered me. Or something had clearly answered me. I racked my brain for an explanation but could not find one. I finally moved my head.
“Well something really freaky just happened.” I repeated everything and he laid there speechless with his arm around me. I called out to my dog. She was on the floor but did not move or respond at all. Panicked, I called her name several more times, and only once I yelled did she sluggishly get up and come to me. It was as if a thick REM-inducing blanket had fallen over the whole room, entrancing everything I loved. I started to cry a little and asked if we could switch spots as I had accidentally fallen asleep on the side Arnald normally sleeps on. I had to sleep with the tv on and only got maybe another hour of sleep, the whole time feeling a strong presence about.
The next day, I was too frightened to go back into the room or even to the point in the hallway where I had been dragged. I could think of nothing else but the experience. I didn’t feel safe and the worst part was that it felt centered around this person that had recently brought me so much love, encouragement and creativity. It felt as though something was trying to take me away from him. And he seemed innocent and semi oblivious to the whole ordeal.
I attempted to distract myself but Arnald often found me wide-eyed and staring off to nothing. To say I was disturbed was an understatement. I needed to get some of it out as I could feel it eating away inside me but I was afraid of drawing attention to myself. I wrote my ambiguous blog hoping that it would act as a therapeutic tool but it only worried my friends and family. My mother contacted me within seconds and I called her later to explain what had happened. Her lack of knowledge in these kinds of situations did not help but at least she believed me.
Later in the evening I still refused to go back in the room. Arnald’s mother got home and after a bit of small talk the subject was eventually brought up. She related a few stories from the family, mostly her sister being prone to these things, and another story I had heard before. They had needed to get the house cleansed before because ‘something’ was around and the woman that performed the cleansing had told Arnald, “Oh they like you.”
I told her of the first time he slept in my van and the first time I slept in his room and how each time an item had been knocked off the shelf as we lay motionless. At the time, I had playfully asked if he had “things” around him to which he responded yes and that he had heard that before. I told him I felt nothing bad, unlike the “things” I had felt around Tegan when we were teenagers.
We burned sage and lit white candles at each entrance to the house. I asked that it be held especially around the spots where I had been held to the wall. Looking up at the spot on the hallway ceiling still fills me with an invisible weight. Once I sat on the bed, I was told my face got really red. Per his mother’s request, Arnald blew the smoke from the sage into my face. I loved the smell and it felt good. But I still felt something. I still feel something now.
I don’t know what to do or think. I only know that this should not be ignored. But I know nothing of this. I just want to go back to when I could give everything a scientific answer. I wish I could say I was just dreaming or that it was in my head. I would blame no one for not believing me. One would have every right to not believe unless it happened to them. I am different now, once again. This is a new chapter, a new door. We’ll see where it takes me.
I did it again. But this time I was not forced to.
I don’t know if it is worth mentioning but when Arnald and I came back after being gone for the weekend, the large corkboard had been knocked off the shelf. It was laying askew on the floor, almost as if it had been thrown, though it could have very well been the animals. The reason I bring it up is that we left the board next to something of great significance. This piece of wood contained the tag of a close friend of Arnald’s that had passed. He had extracted it earlier on in the year and hid it in his closet. I knew it was there. When I cleaned about a week ago I pulled it out to look at it. As I sat down and meditated on the person I will never know, I placed my hand over the symbol. A bolt of intense energy shot through my hand and I felt the tingle of electricity through my wrist and up to my fingertips. I had never felt such an intense energy from an object. A few days later I got the courage to bring up the event to Arnald and concluded that I felt the piece should be taken out of hiding and put up to honor. I told him there was no way I could be sure, but I felt the previous “out of body experience” (I was told it was called) might have had something to do with it. He responded that it was his original intent to put it up in honor. Later that night, he pulled it out and casually placed it on the shelf behind some glue and pens. He meant to put it up but never did. It still sits there. But back to last night.
I had an eventful weekend and spent most of my time outside so my limbs and energy were beautifully exhausted. I decided to sleep in Arnald’s spot again to see if it would aid in the experiment. As I laid down, perfectly relaxed I began to drift off and focus my thoughts on possibly leaving my body again. I felt I was finally ready to attempt this skill.
I had been dreaming lucidly all night. In my last dream before waking I had constructed the world. No one was aware that I was God and I wanted to keep it that way in order to properly manipulate it. I had rebuilt the town to my liking, vainly, to represent the art of myself and my partner. After observing the citizens I would freeze time to change and build. Once I had set time back into motion the people were none the wiser to any change I had made. It had always been according to them.
I changed the downtown square to contain two galleries of mine and two of Arnald’s, spaced around the other businesses so as not to appear monopolistic. Then suddenly I felt the urge to stop all my efforts. I looked around me to see the grid appear, revealing everything in its cubic form. I flew upward and across, surveying all that I had made. Slowly everything turned more and more primitive with basic geometric shapes, showing that all my detailed narcissism was simply anamorphic. I wanted more than all this. Something bigger. Something better. I turned the world faster and faster and woke up.
In my dazed state I remembered my original goal and I focused my thoughts. I started the proper breathing technique, in through my nose and out through my mouth. As I closed my eyes I began to see a box. All was dark around me except the box. It was simple but contained some writing or crude ancient drawings on the side. As I inhaled I drew closer and with each exhale I was pulled away. The motions grew more intense as I kept my focus and with each breath in I felt some kind of power enter me. Energy grew and grew inside me giving me more and more of a feeling of complete and utter divine power. I could feel myself separating. Part of me tilted my head back and lifted my chest, silently screaming with almost a rage of blind dynamism. And the other part cowered and feared what I was becoming. I scared myself.
I then could see myself. I knew I was scared. But I was almighty now. Suddenly I felt a strange feeling behind my ears and at the tip of my neck. I pulled out. It felt as though I had removed my head. I could no longer feel myself. I was just me out. The energy around me was a thick invisible storm. So much was around me. It was too intense. After about 5 seconds, I shot myself back in. As my selves slammed into each other I gasped for air. I felt a slight weight on me but it quickly dissipated. I looked around me. All was content but I still felt an intense energy.
That was enough experimenting for one night I thought. I put my arm around my companion in order to have his energy distract mine from accidentally performing the skill again. He woke and I told him little parts of what just happened.
I’m in a whole new chapter. My lucid dreams are constant, as they have been for a while now, but most are filled with what seems like a more noble subject matter. Almost every night I create something new or at least discover a creation made from another. I have seen a mesmerizing hybrid wood sculpture and painting, a series of nautical works. I fashioned the perfect defensive gloves that would create a force field around me as well as knock out my opponent with a simple grasp of the neck. I have mastered the technique of transferring my body not only to other bodies, but to inanimate objects, the perfect escape. My subconscious is filled with bright, vibrant colors and unbelievable sights such as a massive tower built of stegosauruses all balancing on their noses and tails.
Just last night I was discussing a new formula for some new concept of space. All ideas were brought forth as floating images against emptiness, interpreting complex thought. Suddenly a new wave of interconnected images flew from above and somehow I knew it was the thoughts of my cat. I laughed and then was awoken by his paw on my face.
I experience a minimum of about (what seems like) 5 hours of extra conscious time as I sleep. But for the most part it is as if days are added to my time. I can no longer spend the time of recording my dreams because I simply do not have the time to record days worth of experiences. And almost every one seems to have significance. There is nothing I can’t do. I never die. My bones don’t break. I never run out of air. I can crash head straight into a semi, my body is jettisoned in the air and feel the wonderful wind against my cheeks as I even out and continue flight. I am fearless. Mostly.
I am still afraid of the dimension that lies just at the border of this playground where I am queen. I want to venture so badly. But something inside me, my primitive self is afraid of leaving all the vain, materialistic power behind. Every day I realize more and more of the hoax around. I thought I was better than the rest by scoffing as they strive for betterment in this reality. When in fact I have been doing almost the same thing but in the subconscious reality. We are all striving for “freedom” and “knowledge” yet we can’t stay focused. And we can’t drop the trivial matters we hold so dear. It seems we have a warped view of what it is to have knowledge. Knowing “rare” things seems to be popular. In fact most of the motivation behind fact hunting is vanity. You want to know something in order to tell someone else, and not for the betterment of yourself.
It’s not about morals, as it is clear that I have little of the conventional type. It is about discipline and the fight for knowledge. There is so much distraction. Every single thing in this dense world is a distraction. It’s like we have always had countless openings to the truth of our existence. We have finally matured as a species to the point where it is obvious, yet we still watch the same episodes over and over, still look up articles pertaining to nothing, still we are entertained by what we find disgusting and still we partake in this rat race. I am trying to fight.
I am disappointed to say the least with how weak my focus is. My mind has been conditioned to accomplish many things at once in order to acquire more time. Yet I’ve known for a while now that time does not actually exist. I was so pleased with myself and felt so accomplished when I woke up from the drone state of the common life. But now I realize that was only step two. Step one being waking up from the venomous ties of religion. And I have many, many more wake-up calls ahead of me.
My dreams have become nobler as my mind has expanded and my time is spent with someone who encourages and shares my creativity and my newfound experiences. Instead of the constant past themes of rape and pillage (which I still don’t find to be bad or evil but a healthy release of tension and counteraction) I now spend most of my subconscious time creating. If I am not terra-forming, making art or inventing, I am often found to be rescuing or protecting a child or infant. In fact that seems to be the main theme. I don’t know what this means, only that is clearly less trivial than attempting to alter a woman’s will.
I have a new fear ahead of me now. I have to let go. I must explore the unseen. I need to know. And for that, I need to be stronger.