Monday, June 2, 2014

Lucid Dream and Pinnacle of Light

September 23, 2007 Lucid Dream
There is the Space Shuttle beside a highway.  I know it is a fake, a conspiracy.  My brother Will and I are somehow privy to the knowledge of the shuttle replica.  I tell Will I don’t want to lie about this lie to the people, that they should know the truth, and that they can handle the truth.  I can’t figure out how to do such a thing, as the perpetrators of the hoax will just deny it.  Such a simple thing for them; to lie.
Thinking of them brings them and they order to have us follow them into a facility.  There are others, strangers, civilians like Will and I.  We are going to get evaluated or something. We enter a building. The light inside is dim and of a bluish hue.  It is a carpeted room, its length much longer than its width.  Along the lengths of each wall stand strange contraptions, machines.  They have a standing platform big enough for only one person to stand at a time.  A circular disk is about seven feet above the circular platform on each of the contraptions.  They are similar to a strange type of shower stall, but without walls or curtains. 
(I will come across another of one of these strange light machines in a place far from here, in the desert of my mind during a glimpse through caves of glass walls and strange beings and comatose minds)
They are leading us in, but I pause, say screw this, and turn around leaving the building and say I need to call my wife over my shoulder.
They are not happy with me.
I exit the building.  There is a bike rack where workers that ride to the facility keep their bikes.  I hop on one and race away, knowing that they are following.  A man catches up to me and asks what I am doing and why I am leaving.  Why would I do something stupid like this?  I refuse his play into his fake sincerity, and disregard anything he has to say to me.  I tell him this.  I am not frightened, and tell him this as well.  He continues to press me, over and over as if he is directly in my head.  I keep telling him that I will not believe whatever he has to say, so he might as well leave me alone because he is wasting his time.  I will not break to his will.
I arrive at a high concrete wall and climb over it quickly, distancing myself from the voice in my head.  Dropping to the other side, there is a highway.  A black van is driving towards me.  I get in without hesitation.  There are five other people in the back of the van with me, all of different ethnicities.  The van travels for a while.  Stops. We meet six black skinned men who believed they didn’t have souls or spirit, and that they had lost them.  They are strange looking, without emotion, as if drones.  I leave them at the side of the highway.  I realize that I am the one driving the black van.
I stop at some kind of fair or carnival or something.  There is a creek beside a walkway.  I become fully lucid, conscious, and aware at this moment that I am dreaming.  It feels like I am fuller, as if I was empty prior to becoming conscious in the dream. 
I tell the five people that traveled with me that we are all dreaming.  They do not understand.   I take them down to the creek where it pools and enter the icy water and motion them to follow me in.  The depth of the creek varies depending on the person.  Depth has nothing to do with the actual distance of surface water to creek bottom.  Things become emotional as some are able to keep their heads above water, some not. A few begin struggling and panicking, as if they had not learned to swim, and the water too deep for them to gain purchase.  I calm them, tell them that it is the struggling that is making the water so deep for them.  Finally, with patience and soothing talk, they are all able to keep their heads above water.  Soon, they have all gained purchase of the secure bottom, and all stand in waste deep water.
The black van pulls up and the back door opens.  The six black skinned men are there.  Their skin is deep midnight.  Once again, they show no emotion.  Their eyes are all black, mouths red.  One of them gets out and comes to me.  He tries sticking a spongy black rod about an inch and half thick into my central “eye”.  I gently stop him and tell the dark beings that they too have spirits.  They must because they exist within my dream.   He continues with the black rod.  I do not know it, but I will see him again in two months time.
A brief transition occurs, as if all the people dissipate.  I try to go into the sky while I am lucid.  I can’t.  I look around and walk to a flat spot on the ground close to the creek and its pool.  Spread my arms wide.  Vibrations start.  The vibrations are a beginning to transiting to another state of consciousness, but I don’t feel that I am going anywhere.  I think about what I am doing wrong, and remember a technique from meditating. I search for my third eye inside my mind.  It feels like a settling in place occurs throughout my being, and I pull myself inward.  Vibrations turn to rushing, a massive swirling wind.  I am moving extremely fast, my ‘eyes’ closed so as to keep myself focused.  I stay calm and ride it.  Faster, faster.  I feel like I am being violently torn apart, a renting of the mind. 
The violent wind stops, my feeling of movement ceases.  I open my ‘eyes’.
I am at another place/plane.  I am a point of consciousness.  There is no form to me, there is only awareness.  I find myself in what appears to be an ancient temple site, but not at all in ruins. No entropy.  I venture forth by a focus of my consciousness, not by any physical means.
There is no one around, but immediately I begin to hear a voice, loud and strong, but very monotone.  It is coming from the sky, to the left and up…up.  We converse for a while.  I cannot remember what he says, except the final statement that is also half question. “You will help us…?”  I know he knows that I will not refuse.  “Of course,” I say.
It is twilight.  There are stone columns.  Colors, sights, smells are bronze and twilight and green and wrought iron, of woods and growth and stillness.  There is a beige tall, thin structure thrusting into the sky; an obelisk that resides at the end of a stone pathway between the columns, spirals of wrought iron twining like vines amongst them.  I float down the path, between the white columns and twisting iron, towards the obelisk and look up.  At the top glows an extremely bright light that I can barely look at.  It is magnificent, so powerful it seems if I were to fully engage the light, I would be ripped apart.  Thankfully, at that moment the tower is blocking the most intense part of the light, a halo wrapping around the pyramid pinnacle at the top of the obelisk.
I head closer and make it to the bottom of the tower, and decide to rise up to transcend its pinnacle and venture into the light.

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