Helping Heal Others in Lucid Dreams

Healing My Husband’s Blood Clot

After two long plane flights to Australia and back, my husband, Stinger, received a preliminary diagnoses of Deep Vein Thrombosis. His right foot and the lower part of his right leg was swelling up, apparently as the result of a blood clot, and he was scheduled for an emergency ultrasound in the morning. Treatment would have entailed spending approximately a week in the hospital, and taking blood thinners for three months. When we went to bed, his leg was worse, and growing more painful. Before falling asleep, I prayed to my Lord, fervently asking Him to help me in my desire to have a lucid dream in which I could attempt to heal my husband’s leg. There was not the slightest doubt in my heart such a healing was possible.

Lucid Dream of August 3, 2011:

Stinger and I are in a grocery store shopping, but we walk out of the building without any bags or packages. I feel happy because we’re together, and I know everything will be all right even though we have to drive to the doctor’s office first thing in the morning. It’s night time, and the parking lot is mostly deserted. I feel so good, I can’t resist doing a little skip and a jump, which causes me to notice that gravity is very forgiving; I feel wonderfully light in the Indian dress Stinger bought me in Brazil. I think—If this was a dream, I could fly. I do a little run in a pretend dream take off, and actually keep rising higher off the ground in defiance of gravity. I become aware of a group of people exiting the store, who stop to watch me, and I wonder what they think about this flying lady. Pretty cool, huh? I look down at my husband, who has kept walking across the parking lot, and say with calm urgency, “Take my hand! Take my hand! If you don’t catch me, I’m just going to keep going.” He reaches up, pulls me down, and I land facing him. Looking directly into his eyes, I ask him, “Is this a dream? Are we dreaming?” His expression is more skeptical than confused as, after thinking about it for a moment, he replies, “No, we’re not.” I’m inclined to believe him, because even now I’m absolutely sure myself that all of this is really happening, that we’re out in the waking world shopping. But once the question is asked, I somehow know that I am, in fact, dreaming. “But if this isn’t a dream,”I point out,”why did you keep walking? Our car is back there.”

As we gravitate toward one end of the parking lot, I remember my intent and command, “Show me your leg.” Stinger obligingly rolls up his jean, and I kneel before his right leg. Where the pocket of swelling is in waking reality, there is a largish flap of skin, raised to reveal an opening through which I can see into his leg. There is a distinct welling up of blood in this space evocative of a subterranean cave where the water (blood) is about to rise up over the edge. A very dark red at the center, the blood is nearly black around the edges, but shining in that blackness are stars. I cannot possibly describe the awesome beauty of this blood welling up out of a fathomless darkness shimmering with stars! I will never forget the sight. The blood clot (for that’s what it must be) is definitely there. I raise my right hand (and perhaps also my left hand) in front of it, intending a blue healing energy toward it. I don’t see any blue color, but I do surprisingly see a reflection of my mouth taking some of the blood into it, tipping it between my lips as I massage the clot, the bulk of it, with my lips and tongue, somehow helping dissolve it in this manner.

After what seems a short time, I sit back and tell my husband, “I could see in there.” Then, crossing my legs, I assume a prayer position directly in front of him. Raising my hands, I instruct him not to touch me as I separate my palms into a Reiki position so that healing energy may flow “down” between them into his leg. I just sit there directing healing energy into his leg, and in the dream I sit there all night. Just before I wake, we are both “teleported” from the dark public parking lot to an intimate sunlit courtyard. The stone wall to the right of a door, which appears to lead into an ancient villa, is hung with a beautiful tapestry-like painting depicting a lovely golden-haired woman wearing an old-fashioned gown and standing in a colorful garden.

I woke suddenly and, after a moment, thought—I had a lucid dream in which I healed Stinger’s leg! I then said softly to him, as he moved slightly in the bed next to me, “I just had a lucid dream in which I healed your leg!” He  replied something to the effect of, “That’s nice” and went back to sleep as I lay there remembering the dream, committing every detail to memory. I got up a short while later, pulled back the bedsheets, and looked at his leg where it was propped up on a pillow. In the soft morning light, his bad leg looked exactly the same as his good leg. I could scarcely believe my eyes. I stroked the skin of both his lower legs, and carefully studied both his ankles and feet, before whispering, “Stinger, look at your leg!” He lifted his head off the pillow and, after a moment, asked, “Did you do that?” I replied, “Yes!” with an elation I cannot describe. The improvement was nearly one-hundred percent, and by the time we got to the doctor’s office, there was no sign anything had ever been wrong with his leg at all.

My lucid dream occurred in the early hours of the morning, when it was already growing light out. Stinger had gotten up to use the bathroom, waking me in the process. He said his leg was as bad as it had been before we went to bed. I fell asleep again almost immediately, had my lucid dream, and woke approximately an hour after I heard, and saw him, limping to the bathroom. The odds are very slim that in such a short amount of time the swelling in his leg would have gone down nearly one-hundred percent. Stinger is a scientist, but he freely admits that, taking all the evidence into consideration, it is perfectly reasonable to conclude that I did, indeed, mysteriously assist in healing his leg in a lucid dream.

Working on John’s Brain (real name withheld to protect his privacy.)

Lucid Dream of March 26, 2012:

I’m in a car, and preparing to get out, when a man in a dark suit slips into the front passenger seat. I’m relieved to see it’s not a threatening stranger but John. His suit is a velvety, textured black, or so it appears to me, and his bowler hat is antique-looking. Without actions or speech, he is very insistent on remaining in the car, he needs to, but I still want to get out, and do so, taking the keys with me. I think perhaps my mother is in a nearby car, but I can’t concentrate; John is still in my car wanting to turn on the radio, looking desperate to do so.  I say to him, “Well, I can’t very well toss you my keys through the windshield, can I?” Even as I speak, I realize there actually isn’t any glass in my way, and yet I stubbornly mime smacking the air before me to pretend there really is a barrier. Then I hand him the keys through the open window thinking—Naturally there isn’t a barrier, because this is a dream.

I don’t remember the transition to the interior of a quaint little store selling what appear to be quality writing supplies. John, still in his black suit, is standing at the register purchasing something. I tell him to follow me upstairs… The next thing I know, I’m fully lucid where I’m sitting in front of him, at the foot of a chaise lounge he is reclining against. There are other people lounging here in this spacious room above the store, but I am already concentrating, feeling acutely lucid, on my purpose for being here.

Clearly seeing my hands in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, I consider how best to go about my intent. I recall performing Reiki in the dream where I healed Stinger’s blood clot, and understand this is the proper way to proceed. Holding my hands facing each other, leaving a few inches of space between them, I raise them before me, and silently request that healing energy flow into them. Immediately, I feel an answering warmth, which gently intensifies as a multitude of tiny squares of jewel-like multicolored lights appear between my palms. They are incredibly beautiful, shining, sparkling, glimmering, flashing and glowing, and brighter, much more potent-looking, than the sparkles of violet light I perceived when I healed my tendinitis in a series of lucid dreams. (See Healing My Tendinitis in Lucid dreams.)

Somehow knowing what I need to do with these beautiful living lights, I lean toward John, and place my hands on either side of his head, just barely touching his temples. He is no longer wearing the old-fashioned black hat (I may have told him to remove it or removed it myself) and he seems skittish, squirmy, but I make it clear to him that he needs to let me do this. I am, I think, using these lights to stimulate the electrical synapses in his brain which mysteriously correspond to them. I know the lights are not electrical, but are a pure living “energy” I caress over John’s head, and I can almost feel them falling into place over his synapses like a map stimulating, perhaps even “rewiring”, strengthening, and forging “relationships” between some of them. I intuitively know when to stop, after which I briefly caress his chest, which recoils slightly. Then I sit back and tell him, “I love you.”

I deliberately didn’t tell John about this lucid dream; I wanted to wait and see what happened, if anything. I waited a little over two years before I finally shared it with him via email. He found it fascinating, but said no more. It wasn’t until last week, when I was writing this article, that I asked him to put into words how he felt about it. He replied:

“At the time you told me this dream last year, I was feeling the urgent need for help. I took the fact that I was in your car, and looked desperate to to turn on the radio, to reflect my sense that there was something wrong with my own car, with my own radio. There’s a tendency to identify with one’s body, and when something is ailing us, this becomes especially problematic. But we don’t confuse the driver with the car: our flesh is a vehicle, not who we are. If the brain is like a radio receiver, receiving the stations of consciousness, it may be very difficult when there’s something wrong with the receiver to pick up anything but the loudest, and not necessarily good, stations. Maybe the dream was an indication that your receiver was shortly to become very important to me because of the problems that I was having with mine. Reading the dream again just now, I realized I didn’t remember the part about buying writing supplies at the store, but that makes sense, because writing is my way of listening for transmissions from Love, and holding onto them. I think it was helpful for me to see myself in your dream, trying to avail myself of your radio. It reminded me of who I really am. Your helping me in the dream may be part of my healing in waking life.”

White Dove

Lucid Dream of March 8, 2015 (Abridged):

…Not far below me, I see a modest-sized raised platform, on which stands an animated white statue of a woman in ancient-style robes. She looks like the Virgin Mary. A handful of equally white doves are fluttering around her, and the dark facade behind her might be the back wall of a cathedral. I descend to just in front of the platform, sink to my knees and, clasping my hands in prayer, declare with hopeful reverence, “My Lady! Miriam…!” The small doves continue fluttering around her upraised hand, but abruptly her face changes, morphs into something ugly. Quickly joining her on the platform, I say urgently, “Don’t let them defile you!” I sense that evil thoughts being directed toward this dream image of Christ’s Mother are responsible for trying to make her appear unholy. But I see through the deception, and lifting my right hand, I say to one of the hovering birds, “Come here, little dove.” The lovely creature alights obediently on my fingertips, light as a feather, and white as a three-dimensional chalk drawing; it literally seems to exude a puff of white chalk dust as it makes contact with my skin. It is the sweetest of creatures, perhaps a baby dove, and I feel it smiling at me with all its being as we connect.

I say to the dove, “Take me to Olivia” and it immediately flies off as if obeying my request. I’m afraid it will vanish before I can muster the dream energy to follow it, but then I see it perched on the black branch of a tree waiting for me… I continue following the energetic little dove… Much sooner than I expected, I find myself on a nocturnal street, in what feels like the quiet edge of a foreign city. A dark body of water stretches out to my right. The bird has brought me to just within a few steps of an opening in the wall to my left, in which there is just enough room for a small diner-style table at which a dark-haired woman is seated facing out toward the street. As I walk up to stand beside her, she looks up at me with a subdued but friendly expression.

Despite her dark hair, I ask with confidence, “Olivia?” and meeting my eyes, she replies, “Yes.” I study her face, and see that her right eye is rimmed in black, with three sharp inverted triangles at the bottom. I know this is a visual manifestation of her problem, and that if I can “erase” this darkness, she might be healed. For an instant, I consider directing a healing energy toward her eye, but I can feel this isn’t the right way to proceed. Suddenly, I find myself quickly rooting through a set of drawers next to the table that are filled with miscellaneous household and office items. I grab a roll of scotch tape which, for some reason, is just what I’m looking for. It is brand new, wrapped in clear crinkling plastic, and I waste precious dream time finding a pair of scissors to cut through it.

“I feel like an idiot doing this in a lucid dream,” I declare, “but I know it’s the right thing to do.” My intuitive intent is to attach the darkness, which I perceive in the dream as causing her health problems, to a substance that has the power to lift it away. I pull off a strip of tape, and quickly place it over her right eye. Just as I begin lifting the tape off her eye, I wake up, unable to understand why I was focusing on her right eye when my intent had been to try and heal her inner ear imbalance.

Olivia Writes:

In April 2014, I suffered a bout of Labyrinthitis which left a lasting impairment to the vestibular function of my right ear, causing balance problems, and some cognitive disturbances. Maria offered to dream for me. A week later, I was signed off sick, and finally referred to ENT. About a month ago, I finally decided that the dryness I had been experiencing in my right eye for some time, was a real problem. Despite using moisturizing eye drops, my right contact lens kept sticking to the eye lid, and getting pulled off center, so I made an appointment with an optician. As soon as I walked in, he told me without examination, “Hay fever!” I protested that I don’t suffer from hay fever, but when he examined my eyes, it was clear there was inflammation on the inside of my right eyelid. The doctor said it had to be caused by something coming into contact with the eye, since it was only affecting my right eye. I told him about the eye drops I had been using, but only on my right eye. I had the drops with me, and it turns out they contain preservatives, as do the saline drops I had also been using on my right eye. The doctor prescribed anti-allergy eye drops, and by the following week, not only was my right eye much better, my sinuses were almost clear, and my balance was greatly improved. If this progress continues, I should be able to return to work fairly soon! In hindsight, it seems a shame now that neither Maria or I realized  at the time just how accurate her dream was.

In Conclusion

I believe lucid dreaming is well on its way to becoming an important part of how we are able to express our love and concern for others, and not just family members and close friends. It is my experience that attempting to meet other lucid dreamers in the dream space more than once—an activity I have been engaged in for more than three years—seems to establish a “soul connection” through which healing can be facilitated, whether or not I have met the individual in waking reality. (See, for example, Healing in Dream Space.)

In all three of these dreams, I simply knew what I needed to do, and acted on this intuitive knowledge.  What happens in dreams remains a mystery, but though I don’t believe I, personally, have the power to heal anyone, I hope to continue assisting in dream healings, which I feel occur with the help, and through the grace, of an all-pervading Love our souls can grow intimately in touch with in a way that transcends words.

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Meeting in the Dream Space