July 6, 2014
Even though I’m sitting on the edge of a bed, I’m preparing a smoothie. A man walks into the room and sits next to me. I see he also has a glass in his hand full of smoothie ingredients, chunks of banana, nuts, etc. I remark on the fact that his smoothie is not smooth at all, not like mine, which is a creamy, luscious liquid. I take a sip and it is delicious. As we both move toward the door, I fully recognize the man as Sean. Yes, I’m with Sean! Interesting that we’re both on smoothie duty. The house we’re in feels more like the top floor of an old building. It is laid out like the spacious apartment I lived in for seven years in Dorchester, Massachusetts. As I follow Sean into the central corridor, off which all the rooms open, the dream sharpens into lucidity. Excitedly I tell him, “It’s just like that book Mile on the Moon!” (In waking reality, I had e-mailed the group a song by that title with the idea it might help us connect in the dream space.) Sean mumbles, “I’ll have to pass on that one.” I follow him into a bedroom. “But don’t you see,” I insist, “the whole point is that her drink was smooth like mine and his was chunky like yours!”
I sit down in a chair near the door while Sean perches on the edge of the bed. It feels like my old bedroom in Dorchester, but the TV is across from where it used to be. I remark, “The TV is on the other side” thinking he must have moved it. It is turned on, and playing so loudly I wonder that it doesn’t wake him up. He seems distracted, perhaps by all the action on the screen, but I’m sure we’re dreaming together. But I become a little worried, when he seems to avoid looking at me, that he might think I’m implying we’re like the characters in the book, who were a couple, because that’s not what I meant. We’re sharing a dream, and that’s exciting enough; I don’t want anything else from him. He lies back across the bed and closes his eyes. I stand up and remark, “It’s strange to think you’re already awake…” because I know it’s after 3:30 my time, so he’s probably already up for the day. He says something about time being irrelevant, which of course is true, but it’s still strangely fascinating to be viewing this “paranormal film” of him in his house on his bed in the middle of the night. I suggest uncertainly, “Maybe I should leave so you can go back to sleep…” I know he often has multiple lucids in one night, and I feel I should give him a chance to fully, lucidly enter this dream. Then I look around as the thought occurs to me, “Maybe we should call out to Tilly… Tilly?! Tilly!”
Lost time… Sean and I move together to another room that no longer feels like part of my old home. We sit down on a blue couch, in front of a window looking out on the night, and a quiet street below where some small intimate lights shine here and there. Sean asks me, “Is everything all right, Maria?” and I know he’s referring to the tower I told him about. I assure him that I am more than all right, that I didn’t literally mean I was imprisoned in the tower, on the contrary; I merely used the image of a room high in a stone tower as a metaphor for the feeling I have that my spirit has finally been set free. Then Sean says, “Pray for my grandfather.” At once I reply, “I will” and, falling to my knees between him and the window, I put my hands in prayer position and begin to pray.
False Awakening: I believe I wake up while still on the couch where Sean and I had been sitting. Only now it’s my sister who is beside me, separated from me by a large sky-blue surface, on which I discern very faint white words, like clouds that have almost completely dissipated. I lean over them, intent on reading the words because it’s important! If I can read them, Sean will know we really dream shared. It’s nearly impossible, but suddenly the faint words register as a title of some kind… Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Is he perhaps reading that book in waking reality? At once I begin writing my dream notes with a white crayon, but the blue surface is smooth as wax, which forces me to press down really hard and to write really big. I scrawl down the title, followed by other things we said to each other in the dream. Then a dark-haired man I feel might be my brother (or Igor?) appears just beside and below the couch (dimensions are skewed here) and says, “If you wait, you won’t be able to…” I notice then that I’m surrounded by sketches of faces and figures drawn on all sizes of paper. Attempting to collect them, I wake for real.
Just two of several dreams that night: I am inside a large house, the front room is large, it feels like an old country house. It feels familiar. It is a gathering, friends surround me – we are having a party of sorts. Is this 12 Norwich street? I am only partially lucid. I am with someone, a woman, we are together as a couple. Another woman I recall at the party standing on her own ,she is petite and has brown hair and it is tied back in a pony tail. She has large eyes – she is pretty – I want to talk to her but do not have a chance… Maria is here, she is flitting around acting as the hostess, she is cooking some delicious party food for everyone. I give her a hand in preparing some of the food – some special orange lollipops – made from real oranges. We hand them out to everyone then I take mine and give it a lick. It opens up like a petal, miniature orange segments open and the taste is exquisite. Now it’s time for the cake. We need to pose and have our photos taken individually – our likeness’s will be added into the cake.
WOW – where to start? Okay so – first off – the house. I am semi-lucid in this house, something in it makes me aware I am dreaming – perhaps your presence? It feels like the house I found myself in last week. Simply drawn to it – a very good sign. Also, another thing to note is that we both perceived it as an old building. (I would use the word ‘rustic’.) Then there is the nice matching of us both making food together – fruit to be specific. I imagined some kind of organic lollipop, while you perceived it as smoothies. We may have spent longer making the food together in my dream, or spoke more – it is difficult to recall.
An interesting diversion to the two dreams is that I perceived a lot of people being inside the building, while you only perceived me – I think this is represented in your dream by the ‘TV with the action on it’ keeping me ‘distracted’ – as with Tilly, I feel the TV represented another part of the dream going on at the same time – in this case it was the other part of my dream, the party side of it. In my dream, my friend, old Sam, was also at the party, one of my own projections, I feel. I also feel that one of the reasons it was difficult for me to recall all of my dream last night (and dreams similar to it in the past) is because I was stretched over a couple of dream spaces.
Sitting on the blue couch and chatting seems strangely familiar…
Something I have not told you about are intended visits to my (deceased) granddad. Each time I went to try and see him in a dream, I was bought to a scary place—at one time a pit with lost souls trapped inside, another time a scary demonic force came at me. This was a complete surprise to me as he was such a lovely guy in waking life, so I have started to become a little worried about him, and about why I have been experiencing this.
Jonathan Livingston Seagull – never heard of that book before, but just wiki’d it and I have to say I want to read it now! Lastly, my dream (this one) ended with a false awakening, and I instantly knew it had been you in the dream.
On July 5 in waking life I bought dates and milk, for some reason I forgot to buy bananas. I was going to prepare a milkshake. I have not drunk one in a long time. In my dream, I prepared my milkshake, because I had bananas in my dream. However, I did not drink it.
As for “the sky-blue surface” you were writing on… I was having a font problem yesterday with my Dream Page on WordPress. I have found the cause of this problem and fixed it. But yesterday, the text was white on a white background, so I had to use CTRL+A to highlight it and have a blue background in order to read that white text.
Note on Jonathan Livingston Seagull: I have this book, read it years ago, and I was talking to a friend about it yesterday afternoon as we were watching the seagulls. I LOVE seagulls… I hadn’t thought of the book for a long time.