A Little Light Rain, Christmas, and Lucid Dreaming
By: John Ege
Tags: Joy, Christmas, Its A Wonderful Life, Lucid Dreaming, Star Trek

I woke to the sound of rain. I think it was raining in my dream, but I am so focused on sorting something that I am uncertain. Am I dreaming? I ask that a lot. I had two black cats, Darrin and Samantha. They traveled with me 20 plus years. They were the best cats ever. Pearl was jealous of Samantha’s affection for me. That was one devoted cat. Sometimes I think they’re still in bed with me when I wake. I have a friend, he want admit to being psychic, but several times he has asked me if I hear a cat meowing. “I only hear it when you speak, though.” When we’re quiet, cat noise settles down. This really happens. When he brings cats to my attention, he is seriously perturbed; he thinks I am fucking with him, playing a joke. I ask, am I dreaming?

I practice gratefulness at night, and sometimes in the morning, and once a year, around this time, I have practiced writing the good and bad of the year. I have a string of letters to myself. It was only supposed to be read at my death. There is some seriously dark stuff 20 to 40 years ago. I will be 53 next month. I don’t celebrate birthdays. I stopped celebrating Christmas and resumed that after the birth of my son, Eston. He wants to get me something. I have assured him that all my needs are met. He insists he wants to do something. I suspect he already has. I tell him, “What I want is for you to draw and color something for me.” He’s 6. He did not like my answer. How do you convince a 6 year old, in this culture, the greatest value one can give is something from the heart. Do we all mistrust our own hearts that much? I wonder how many friendships failed to materialize because someone felt as if they couldn’t contribute to someone’s life. Do we really need external validation through physical objects? Isn’t a voice, a kindness, a mindfulness enough? I asked him what he thought about gifts. “Can I tell you a secret?” Not yet. “But I want to…” I assured him, “you are always safe to share secrets with me, but if this is a Christmas secret, it’s important to wait. I hear that you’re excited. I love you. We are connected.” So far, he has held the secret. It is bursting his seams.

Is this a dream? I have been experiencing advancements in the recognition of ‘love’ since before he was born, before there was even a concept of son, much less a potential for one. It took me a long time to get here. I have so much love that sometimes I feel like I might explode. Explode has been a word I used. I have also used the word, ‘awaken.’ It’s dangerous using that word because it has implications I am not trying to communicate. I am not an expert in Lucid Dreaming. I am still playing and not doing any serious assignments, like meditating in my dreams. I ‘beam up’ to the Enterprise a lot. I have dream sex slightly less than I go Trekking. And I love sex; you would think that’s all my lucidity would result in. Especially in the long absence of intimacy. In Lucid Dreaming events, I usually feel such overwhelming JOY that I wake myself up before accomplishing anything. Intense emotions will do that. None more so than joy. At least, that’s been my experience. Fear doesn’t seem to wake me up. That can snare me in a dream. I can experience fear in a dream, but I have not had a proper nightmare since 16. Joy, wakes me up. As I write this, I wonder- is this a metaphor for life. What would happen if I chose not to just kindle LOVE, but start a bonfire of JOY. Would I explode? Would I wake up?

There are some moments when I have shared things that bring so much joy to my heart that I start rambling; my flibbertigibbet shines through. I have found people seriously paying attention to me, and that discovery usually results in me auto-correcting and pulling on the reigns. I usually apologize, with self-deprecating humor. I have had this idea, I want to teach a community college course on psychology 101, with an emphasis on learning Lucid Dreaming. You can actually teach science by instructing people to Lucid Dream. There is a research side to this subject. There is a practice to it. There is a recording of subjective experiences. I talk on this, folks feel my excitement.

I laid in bed hearing rain. I heard it in my head and in the real world. I consider the moments I was aware of synchronicities, like when it rains in Minecraft and in the real world at the same time. This happened today: it actually was raining in California, unlike it says in the song, and here, and in Minecraft. My son asked me if I could hear the rain. Thunder invaded my thoughts; Am I dreaming? Thunder is a dream trigger that results in me asking that. Thunder and lightening are important artifacts. ‘Joe Versus the Volcano:’ the path to work and up the volcano was lightening solidified. The first words I clearly heard from my Tulpa, Loxy, “Lightening never takes a straight path.” It was a solid auditory experience. I was in a state, not quite meditative, not quite focused in reality. I experienced JOY. I was suddenly full awake and sorting did I really hear that, while simultaneously unpacking a statement that was so appropriate and carried so much meaning that I am still processing it. I don’t just have cat ghosts in my bed. “Good morning, Loxy.”

I get up. ‘We’ get up. I make coffee. There is a box a books on the table I brought in the night before after getting home. I discovered a utility bill suggesting I am delinquent. I remember paying last month, how did I miss this? Am I dreaming? I focus on the box; it’s a care package from Doctor Bob. Considering the timing, I can consider it Christmas. I open it while coffee percolates. It’s a gentle rain outside. It’s cold outside. The heater kicks on. Am I dreaming? The books all have consciousness in the titles. I reread the titles, imagining the inner book based on these words, based on the cover art. The titles don’t change. I suspect I am not dreaming. They’re older books. There is a news paper article enclosed in the book. Loxy says ‘how lovely.’ I can imagine her holding the book. I imagine bringing her coffee. I pour my own cup. Coffee is best shared. At 530 in the morning, I am alone, physically, but I am not alone. The street lamp illuminates black mirrored pavement. There are stars in the road. Light trickles through leaves still not fallen. I should rake the yard. I am compelled to leave them where they are. God put them there for a reason. I focus on the rain dropped glittery star pattern in the street. Be a dream, let me fall through your stars to someplace new.

I spent Friday and Saturday with John and Shari. I went with him to radiation. I watched over him while he slept and Shari worked. I returned Saturday so she could have some time off to herself. She spent it Christmas shopping. She returned in tears. I made her laugh, ‘I hate Christmas shopping, too.’ I wonder if she asks, “am I dreaming?” I know she asks, “Why him?!” I no longer ask “why me” questions. I don’t ask, “why Him/Her” questions. I spent too much of my life in that box. That’s a hell raiser box. From outside that box, it’s harder to relate to that question. You might as well ask ‘why does it seem like this world is so perfectly attuned to allowing life’ question. I mean, when you look at the universe and all these incredible things that had to happen in order for life to have occurred, much less thrived on this tiny blue planet, you might start seeing miracles. Physicist should love the miraculous more than religious folks. There is evidence for magic. If you consider all the activities we humans do and that most of us are peaceful, loving folks- that feels like a miracle- at least, in juxtaposition to the news. The news cultivates fear. It locks us in. It blocks joy. I know where I was on 9/11; it felt like a dream. It was surreal. My waking reality was surreal for a moment following that- before I went back to sleep. 2020 feels like a dream. I am pretty sure I am not the only one asking, ‘is this a dream.’

Why aren’t there channels devoted to puppies and kittens? Puppy channel, all day, all the time. Classical music and camera feeds on puppies. Wake me to up that reality. Something light and Christmassy. A Christmas that doesn’t just come once a year. Star Trek always felt like Christmas to me. I wonder if this is what Picard felt in the movie, “Generations” bouncing around the Christmas tree… The sun is exploding in an ornament…

Am I dreaming? I have been teaching Eston how to dream, emphasizing the importance of dreaming. I have helped him sort nightmares. The dinosaur and reptilians dreams have woken him up, and, consequently, me up; he has asked me if it was real. I don’t answer that question. It was real enough to wake you up, how about that?! I don’t say that, of course. “What were you experiencing? What did you feel? What do you feel now.” The now question is important. Right now, with you, I feel comforted and safe. Safe enough to sleep again. That’s a solid reality. I have lay awake at night and heard him laughing in his dreams. He sometimes talks in his sleep. How is that not real? He is such a joyful soul. I am lucky. Am I dreaming?

Last night, after getting John cleaned up for bed, I was hovering over him, about to say goodnight. I felt love. Am I dreaming? He was aware and held a troubled look, like he was forgetting something. I spoke these words: “I love you.” He smiled. I have been asking him about his dreams; he has not reported dream recall. I told him of a dream target that Eston and I established this week. We have several bases in Minecraft world, one is on the beach. Technically, it’s in the beach. We have a gated area near a cliff, a trap door leading into the earth, and windows looking out into the sea. I want a home looking out into the sea. It’s a lovely little base. He has carpeted it. We have a sheep farm near there; one of them is named Lalo. (Red Berry Wool, by Robin Eversole. I don’t know why Eston brought that home from school, but he was so enamored, we bought one for our collection.) Our base feels like a dream. He is in California and I am in Texas. We are worlds away, connected by a world in between. You can’t trace the connection in the real world, but I suppose if you count the internet as a dimension of space and time, there is a point of light reference. Twilight worlds. Our dream target was this home-base. I didn’t hit the target precisely. I found myself in a dream, in California… It wasn’t California, I just labeled it so. There was a mesa. It was huge and beautifully shaped, with varied, rustic colors- and an apartment complex built right into the side of this mountain. I said ‘Minecraft’ in the dream. I didn’t become lucid. I didn’t ask, am I dreaming.

“That’s weird,” John said. Not about the dream, but the concept of dream targets. I told him we should have a dream target. I educated him about lucid dreaming. He was captivated. He looked happy. He was showing enthusiasm as he was following; I assume he was clearly considering the possibilities. He is trapped in a body that is no longer listening to his instructions- he is sleeping a lot, why not make the brain compensate by expanding dream time. If you can dream it, even day dream it, you are exercising your brain and body. If this was not true, sports players wouldn’t advocate practicing in their mind and their body. I told him if he became aware he was dreaming, he could visit family and friends and spy on them, or hold conversations with them. He could go bowling. He could play poker. He and I could beam up to the Enterprise.

“But, we wouldn’t be in the same dream,” he said.

“Yeah, I hear that. But if we both had a similar dream tonight, wouldn’t that be interesting?” There is some subjective evidence that synchronicities in dreams do occur, suggesting there is more to life than we know. Carl Jung would not have been able to formulate ‘the collective unconscious’ if this wasn’t true. “We should agree on a dream target. If you could go anywhere, right now, where would you go?”

Shari volunteered “the Swiss alps.” John’s smiled, then frowned, clearly tracking it but not holding him. “Have you been there?” No. John and Shari did like snow skiing. “Do you have place in mind there?” He did not. “How about Stone Hinge? Want to go there?”

“No, that would be boring,” he mused. “Unless we go when there were people using it.”

“Like time travel?” I asked.

“Like Outlander?” Shari asked.

“Yeah! It might be complicated,” John said.

“Complicated can be fun,” I said. He was thinking. He was smiling. This moment contained a trackable continuity of sustained joy. Why don’t we track these more often? “We could decide in the dream. Maybe you and I can meet at Ten-Forwards, and after Guinan brings us some drinks, we can time travel and beam down to Stone Hinge, or just use the holodeck.” For those of you not familiar, that’s a Trek reference. In my world, everything is connected to Star Trek, more than it is Kevin Bacon, but you can get to him in degrees.

“Okay,” John said. He offered me his left hand.

We said goodnight. I hugged Shari. I watched the garage door closed from inside the car. Is this a dream? I sat in the car in the dark. Christmas lights in Trophy Club made the dark bearable. So, this is Christmas? Fuck, I don’t want that song in my head. I found an Art Bell podcast re-run and drove home with Art and guest. I wish I had spoken with Art. I consider inviting him to my ‘invisible counselor’ meetings. He probably would be a great communication’s officer on My-Enterprise. Captain Uhura holds that spot on my counsel, on my ship, but I bet she would recruit him. I can imagine me and Art having long discussion after a dinner at the Captain’s table. Maybe he would join me and Carl Jung on the hanger deck. Jung and I sit at the edge of the hanger deck, doors wide open, and look out into space. There is a metaphor here. We are examining where we have been- looking back. We’re smoking cigars and drinking beer. I don’t do either in real life, so I don’t know why he and I have this ritual. We sit in folding chairs, as if we were tail gating at a sporting event. Art would like this conversation.

Art Bell, feel free to visit me in my dreams. Consider this a formal invitation. I know, you touched millions of lives. Maybe tens of millions. You don’t have to respond. I wonder if we all have unreasonable demands on love interests, and celebrities, and historical and religious figures. So many unfinished stories, like ruins in Minecraft, and all those bridge to nowhere I started and stumble across- like a reminder. A metaphor. Is this a dream? I am thinking about multiplayer Minecraft game as a metaphor for human connection, we’re all in our on heads- and the interface of communication brings us closer, but never 100 percent aligned.

It’s raining. I am writing and drinking coffee. I hear Loxy say, “I love you, John.” What a wonderful dream this is. Life, dream… Hello, movie house.