By Robert Waggoner © 2016   All Rights Reserved

I admit it. I laughed.

When I saw the convincing reality of the dream exposed, laid bare, unclothed, and then suddenly became lucid, laughter seemed very appropriate. I laughed at my own stupidity, my ability to overlook innumerable clues and still not get it.

I laughed at the delightful nature of the game, which appeared equal parts educational and comedic. And I laughed for the ramifications – if I and most everyone needed almost slapstick, pie-in-the-face type clues to wake up and realize the actual situation, then what did that say about our larger situation in the ‘real’ world of waking life?

I laughed for getting it. Then I laughed for not getting it, 98% of the time.

Like in one of my last lucid dreams, I found myself at a club party with about twenty women – and no guys. As I looked around, I noticed all the women wore a black dress. Okay.   Then at the front of the club, back lit above a kind of simple altar space, glowed a moon type outline emerging from a glowing pink heart.

Even then, I had to look around and add up the improbability: Myself at a club, (1 chance in 50?), occupied only by women (1 chance in 20?), all wearing black dresses (did I miss a casket and dead body? 1 in 200?) and the coup de grace, an altar space with a glowing moon on a pink heart hanging above (1 in 10,000?). I hate to multiply the improbability (well, actually my calculator doesn’t go above tens of millions).

A Hidden Dream Maker?

Even now, I marvel at the clues. As if a hidden Dream Maker watches me and keeps upping the improbability, thinking, ‘Okay, I’ll place this Midwesterner in a club. Hmmm, not strange enough? Okay, let’s just have nothing but women there. Hmmm, he doesn’t get it. Okay, all of the women will now be in black dresses.’ At this point, even the Dream Maker feels a bit incredulous and almost sorry for me, so it thinks, ‘Gosh, let’s throw in something really really weird, like a strange little altar, and an image of a moon and a pink heart glowing from behind.’

While I did find this puzzling and wondered if I had stumbled into a meeting of fashionable female moon worshippers, it took another minute before I added up the improbability, and began to laugh. I grabbed a woman and fell throw the black wall of mental stuff into the outdoor nightscape, conveniently provided by the Dream Maker, still laughing.

I went on to have a fantastically deep lucid dream of exploring the nature of awareness. I asked to experience concepts, and found my requests quickly granted. In that moment, the broad expanse of the collective unconscious’ Knowing seemed immediately accessible and ever-present.

In the morning, I laughed again. Surrounded by this warm and fuzzy physicality, but remembering the cosmic elasticity of dreaming, I knew ‘reality’ as a kind of accepted perspective of experience, as one agreed upon structure in a likely infinity of possibilities.

In fact, and you may laugh, the idea of a ‘real’ reality, can serve as a kind of imprisoning perspective, like a stubborn child feeling totally hooked on the number 1, and finding 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and so on as ’unreal’ and even slightly threatening to the proper order.  Hopefully that child can laugh at the experience of number 2, as we laugh in the moment of lucid opening.