It was dark, yet I could still make out the path among the tall grasses. We held hands tightly; waves of desire emanating, waves of lust, waves of love, waves of comfort and security. One of those moments with a familiar face in a distant dark dream, dark but with such clarity. I could see their face, and at the same time, two opposing sensations: a face I have never seen before, a face I have known all my life — a reunion, a familiarity, so comfortable were those long slow waves of pleasure.
This path was familiar as well, a place I have talked to during the day and in other past dreams, but as I recalled in my dream within a dream, the other set of dream memories in the other realities I live; the ones where I can fly, the ones where I can endlessly explore, the ones with the monstrous fish dwelling in the water ways; the ones where I can really FEEL what a kiss feels like in the dark, with that person that is a part of my own mind, my creation, my love.
And in those moments of sheer wonderful, reality shifted again to another place, a place very much outside of my dream within a dream. In this new place my kinesthetic sensations also shifted from emotional to tactile. I could feel a tightening as the gargoyle wrapped around me, around my legs and my arms, saying things to me I will not recall.
One of the most useful dream machines I have built, like the lucid dream creator I used in the land of purple, is a wake-up button, a panic button, if you will. Paying greater attention to power (of the story-teller), to the ability to maintain control over the story, before it shifts, because there are others out there also manifesting the universes we share, other powerful minds, the other minds.
Sometimes unexpected things happen, new things, unfamiliar things, and you forget to pick up the book and read, or flick the light on and off to tell yourself you are writing this story — change it back to something with a kiss and slow rolling waves of passion; sometimes you have to use the wake-up button after the shift occurs.
As I fumbled for the button, the grip tightened further and I struggled to breathe. I could feel my left ear cry out as it pushed its stone tongue right into my mind, my hearing left, I hit the button.
I woke up one layer, laying in bed waiting for ear to stop hurting, waiting for my hearing to return. As I lay there, the phone rings. I answer to a distinctively British voice, another wave of desire and exhilaration as we spoke. Yum.
After a long conversation, spinning around curiosity and lust with intensity, I awoke another layer.
And as I sit in my sauna and write my story, create my history of the other places and other minds, I see the dark finger like bruises around my legs…
Next time, I’ll see it coming and will already be manifesting what will come next.