(WILD: A term coined by Dr. Stephen LaBerge Wake-Initiated-Lucid-Dream.)
River (WILD)
After awhile awake, I drift into a dream. At first I “fly”
over things with no sense of body. I consider how my mind is creating
the images I fly over. As a bodily sense coalesces, I start swimming rather
than flying, trying to create a sense of water through such movement.
I sort of sense the water but can’t seem to create a feeling of
wetness. Finally, I do see a river. It is a brownish river, resembling
some of the rivers in Indiana. I wake up at least partway, then return
to the dream. This time I move through walls going from building to building.
In the dream I start to feel cold. I soon wake up, truly having a sense
of coldness.
Note: I often feel cold when I awaken from a lucid dream though normally, when I wake up, I tend to feel warm. I don’t invariably feel cold at the conclusion of a lucid dream, however. I had a second, longer lucid dream after this one. In it, I try to scout out a possible building in which I and my siblings, or some of them, could live after retirement. To my surprise, I woke up from that longer lucid dream warm. Nonetheless, my lucidity was quite compromised by the end of the second lucid dream. Anyway, do any others feel colder than usual after awakening from lucid dreams? A. Dreamer, September 1, 2000
I Feel My Body Turning To Stone
(Sleep Paralysis)
[Was awake for most of the night, (at least I think I was awake, the periods
of waking that I observed throughout the night could have been false awakenings).
I would doze off a lot. Had many short lucids and false awakenings.] I
fly and twist and turn in a room. The room is all grey, and made of stone.
There is no furniture. I feel I am waking. I close my eyes and try spinning.
I can't get the sensation of spinning. I try to visualize the sensation
since I don't feel myself able to actually spin my dream body. I open
my eyes slightly and see the same grey stone walls. I close my eyes again
and try spinning in the other direction. I try harder to visualize the
spinning but it doesn't work. I feel a shift to the right and know I am
awake. [Estimate that I was trying to spin for 60 seconds.]
[Another lucid:] I am in a cartoon scene. I am up in the air above a cartoon "stage," as though I am up among ropes, cables, sandbags, etc. Way below me I see "Yosemite Sam." [I may be a small cartoon figure, I'm not sure.] I fly down above his head as he goes down a huge ladder and I keep above him as he goes out across the stage. Then I am in a dust cloud behind him. Others are then around. I am a cartoon in a scene before this too. I marvel at the colours in the cartoon scenery and the vividness of sound. I "think" (to make happen) the sounds that the "Roadrunner" makes and am impressed by how accurate they are.
[As I try to sleep I feel a weird sensation, as though my whole body is turning to stone. It is especially noticeable on my face. I feel the muscles tighten, my lip twitches and I feel a pulling sensation, as though someone is pulling my lip. It also feels like there is a thickening, like a thigh between my legs [probably the pillow, I sometimes sleep with a pillow between my knees]. I begin to get nervous even though I know this must be sleep paralysis coming on. I struggle to wake up. I open my eyes (dream eyes?) slightly. I can't do it, it's so hard to move. I know I should just relax into it and so I take a deep breath and try to do so. Soon though, I am struggling again. Once more I try relaxing and it feels much better. During this time I hear a rushing, like wind, passing all around my body but I don't feel the sensation of wind ON my body. This lasts for quite a while. I finally pull myself out of it and go into a false awakening. [Now forgotten.]
At one point, while awake, [or so I thought, it definitely felt like I was awake but I can't prove it] I heard a loud buzzing/crackling noise outside my bedroom window. I have no idea what it was and I was too sleepy to get up and look out.
My sister is in the bed with me [in the dream, not in real life]. It's time to get up. She gets up and goes out the door. I go to the clock to see the time. I can't see any numbers, but a dull glare from horizontal lines. I think the power must have gone out. I put my hand around the display in order to reduce the glare. I had looked at the clock at first to see if I was dreaming. Judging by how the clock is acting I think that I could be. I am then in the bathroom. I hear J. and B. come upstairs. I call out and ask them if they heard that noise before [the one I heard outside the window]. B. says it was someone dropping off a lawyer. I get into a few dream scenes but am afraid of creating fearful imagery and frightening myself so I pull myself out of them. Lucy, August 31, 1995
Flying Over Emerging Cityscape
[Lucid WILD] Shortly after going to bed I start to see vaguely geometric
images, very dimly, and feel body distortion. I have to reassure myself
that I'm physically OK as my heart seems to be doing weird things and
my jaw feels like it's snapping a few times. Twice I feel my legs start
to float up, and I try to relax and encourage this. Finally I get the
sensation of flying - there is no straightforward "separation"
- and see intermittent scenery from a high altitude. I see buildings emerging
from a flat undefined background, a pleasing visual effect…. Arthur,
October 10, 1999
Mega Lucid Adventure - Lots of
Tests & St. Joseph's Fingers
I'm futzing around with trying to focus on some signs and numbers that
are popping in and out and moving around on a wall, so that I can WILD
into a lucid dream and pay my keep here at the dream lab. Eventually,
I find this newspaper and fix on it for a while playing with consciousness
focus until I'm in a scene. Then I signal a left-right (or maybe a pair).
Now it gets quite involved with all kinds of simultaneous scenes and such,
but here's the best I can remember: I'm coming out of this doorway, in
an old western barn scene, and I'm pretending as if I just did some crime,
because there's some barn hand coming and I feel like I want a chase.
Anyway, my ploy works and he grabs onto this ladder that I throw in the
way, then I climb the ladder, trying to shake him loose of it, but he's
holding on pretty well with a rubbery arm, I might add.
Eventually, as he's about to grab me, I do a double-take and swing over on the direction that he came from, and by this point he's already on the other side of the ladder, and I know I'll be able to shake him. I do, and I'm up high, either swinging on the ladder or falling, and not sure what to do, but I remember it's a dream, so I figure, "Who cares? I can't get hurt anyway." Then things get tougher to put into words, and I don't remember it all necessarily in sequence. I can feel myself in bed (so I think, and this thought occurs that I'm just faking the eye movements, and I'm about to fall for it and feel silly, but then I figure that the lab attendant will come and wake me if she sees I'm awake, so that I'll just trust. I think I signal again here, but not sure.
Now another scene (or simultaneous one) starts where I go running across some room, making some joking comment as though my sleeping body will say it, so that I can narrate for the lab attendant while I do the dream. Anyway, right after I do that, this female character in front of me laughs, and I think that that's probably the attendant laughing, and me making up a character to cover the sound so that I stay asleep. I think that's pretty creative of me, and I smile at her as I pass. Then things begin to speed up, and it seems that the dream wants to take me (a familiar tugging-like feeling) and show me something, so I oblige and begin flying quickly, so that the scenery swishes by too fast to see. I think that I could become afraid because of the high speed, but I learned that fear lesson a long time ago.
After I dismiss that thought, everything goes dark, and I begin to move diagonally downward (instead of horizontally) and speed up even more. It feels like a test of my lucidity, and I know it, so I think I signal again, make and brace myself for the ride. I let out a loud "YeeHaw!" cheer at the thrill of the speed, hoping the lab attendant might hear, and I even hear faint laughter in the background, so I assume that she does. After my cheer, as though the challenge is on to scare me, my path goes straight downward into even "darker" darkness, and I seem to be going even faster, and it feels like I'm "falling into the center of the earth," like I've done before, so I decide to let out another cheer of excitement. I suddenly realize that I have the lab attendant's quarter in my left hand (which would fall onto a plate as I feel asleep), and I remember wanting to drop it here (falling asleep here?) and so I do, and it falls ahead of me into the center of the earth into the void.
Next thing I know, I'm turned around so that I can't even see where I'm falling, 'not that it makes a big difference,' I think, but then I'm flipped around quickly to see that after "falling" at this speed for such a long time now, there's suddenly a floor of earth there, like pavement even, and I have only a split second to see it before I'm going to hit, but in that moment I again choose to not to buy the fear of impact thought that's dangling (figuratively) nearby. And so, I'm suddenly safe on the floor, talking with this little boy or girl (not sure which - I think a boy- this is vague and goes on for a few minutes) who has these really sore hands and fingers, and I feel a lot of compassion for him.
Then I begin to "float" awake, and I arrive in the bed in the actual lab hospital room. My very first thought is my habitual "check-for-false-awakening," but it seems pretty unlikely, and I'm very quickly distracted from pain coming from my hands and fingers. An odd feeling of pain though, not hurt so much as intensity of feeling, and it's very strong so that I'm holding up my hands and trying to put them down near the floor where they'll hurt less (?) and the attendant comes running in, and asks what's wrong. She sees my hands and I tell her about the little boy from the dream, and how much my hands hurt, and she says, "St. Joseph's fingers! Yes, apparently they're very painful." I give her a bit of a thanks-for-telling-me sarcastic look, and I hold my hands up close and see that my fingers are all warped and that my palms are even melted in some places (nudge, nudge, wink, wink on a freebie look-at-your-hands missed opportunity).
Anyway, I begin telling her all about the dream, and asking if she heard narration, and much to my surprise she says she did and smiles brightly. I think, 'Cool, that never worked before!' but I never really tried it either. Anyway, I get so involved talking about the dream, that I forget about my hands. I "know" that the little boy or girl is someone that "I" am in another existence somewhere, and I'm not sure the best way to try to explain this to her. She suddenly shifts and has strawberry blonde short hair, and lots of freckles. This surprises me a bit, but she shrugs it off as though she just pulled off a sweater or something, so I let it go. She lies down on the floor beside the bed, listening still, and I begin to think that something's just a little too odd here, and I begin to get the slightest little dream tug to awaken and it suddenly hits me that I'm still dreaming.
I'm quickly swooshed "backwards" and "shrunken down" back into the bed (from a far place it seems) here before I have time to really get lucid and shift my focus or signal. I awaken (for real) in the bed again, and say in a good-natured way, knowing I'd been fooled, "Damn, scammed again!" I think the Real attendant actually hears this, because I call her in, but do a quick reality check as she enters, so as not to be tricked anew. I feel very energized upon awakening too, and chuckle to myself at some of the scenes.
Waking connections: Sleeping in dream laboratory. St.
Joseph's Oratory is a huge cathedral in Montreal where the crippled would
come to be healed simply by belief (and perhaps the healing powers of
famous Saint Brother Andre).
Insights: Great example of believing creates your
reality. CW, June 16, 1995
Running and Flying (WILD)
I lie in bed and imagine how nice it would be to run without tiring. (In
waking life I can’t run at all, due to a long-standing leg and knee
injury.) I start to imagine running, considering myself to be in San Francisco.
I am running freely. I sense a dream body now so know I have entered a
dream. I run and run without tiring. It feels great. I enjoy the exhilaration
of using my body this way. After awhile, the running feels monotonous.
I decide to fly. I lift off and soar into the air. I am flying straight
upward with my arms outstretched, looking at nothing, just enjoying the
freedom of movement. I soar and glide happily until I awaken. A.
Dreamer, October 20-21, 2000
Untitled WILD
After lying awake for a long time, I'm suddenly aware of imagining that
I am holding an overflowing handful of tangled black strings. I'm amused
by this spontaneous fantasy and soon feel the tactile sensation of scrunching
the strings in both hands. The action reminds me of the dream prolonging
technique of hand rubbing. Wondering what these strings might be leads
to imagining a crocheted shawl. When I look down, a dream unfolds as the
shawl spills out of my opening hands.
Without any feeling of abrupt transition, I am walking on a dirt road in what appears to be a small, quiet village bathed in soft moonlight. The temperature is uncomfortably chilly. This surprises me as temperature is not a quality I usually note in my dreams. Grateful for the dream shawl, I wrap it around my bare shoulders.
There is the usual longing for the Sea. I focus on watching my bare feet stepping along the path, willing it to lead to the Sea. As the dirt becomes sandy, I think 'this is working!' And when I finally look up, there is a beautiful beach scene to my right. I marvel at the detail, the completeness of the environment. I wade through a shallow inlet directly in front of me and for a moment consider flying over the low sand dunes. I choose instead to climb them. Reaching the crest, I pause to take in the Sea.
The scene shifts and now I am walking through a small courtyard. There are people sitting at patio tables. They tell me I must have a key to pass through a maze in order to get to the Sea. A man escorts me past cemented pools of clear turquoise seawater into an enclosed, watery passageway where he produces a printed pass from a wall-mounted machine. I accept it without a second glance.
The water has disappeared and the man has turned into a woman without seeming remarkable. We enter an area that is littered with broken glass bottles. My guide seems dismayed. I've cut my foot and am surprised to feel a small, sharp pain, considering this is a dream. The sensation lasts only an instant. We begin to unroll a thick layer of foam rubber to make the area safe for walking. Lucidity fades unnoticed as I become engaged in conversation with two other amiable women in this small room. We are still somewhere within the underground passageways to the Sea when the dream ends. Keelin, November 10, 2001
A Seagull Tells Me the Secret
of Happiness
I returned to bed after my lucid dream at 6:30 am and began to practice
the MILD technique to try to induce another lucid dream. While practicing
MILD I slipped into the dream state without losing consciousness and had
a WILD.
I begin dream spinning and repeating "The next scene will be a dream" over and over. When I stop spinning I find myself in a forest of very tall Redwood or Sequoia trees. It appears to be early morning and there is a thick mist or fog which gives the whole scene a lovely mystical quality. I move up close to one of the trees and see the bark in exquisite detail. Speaking to the tree I ask, "Who are you and what do you have to tell me?" The tree replies, "I am the innermost core of your being - I am YOU." Again this is a cryptic answer that I do not fully understand.
I start spinning again and repeating "The next scene will be a dream." When I stop spinning I am on a deserted beach in the predawn twilight. I am not far from the water and I can see the harder glistening sand where the waves have been bathing it. Just at the edge of the water I spy a seagull. I will myself to be closer so that I can see it more clearly. I am instantly next to the seagull. As I look at the gull its features appear unstable and shift. Its bill gets long and pointed and then back to that of a gull. Once again I ask the question, "Who are you and what do you have to tell me?" The gull does not answer my question but says, "Come fly with me." We ascend together into the air, climbing higher and higher. I then ask the gull, "What can you tell me about being happy?" The gull doesn't answer for a while but continues to fly higher and higher with me following. At last we are so high that I begin to see the sun rising behind the orb of the earth. The gull then says to me, "The sun is ALWAYS shining even when you don't see it!" I was immediately deeply moved by that statement and realized its deep symbolic significance for me. I knew that the sun represented my "natural state" of happiness and peace or my "original face" (as a Zen master would call it) that is always and forever present even when obscured by clouds or by the earth itself. On reflection, after waking, I realized the message was simply to "rise above it" and happiness is always there for me. The words of the gull were so moving and poignant for me that for several hours after waking tears filled my eyes whenever I remembered and reflected on that simple sentence. Something about it touched a deep well of emotion and feeling beyond the mere words. Clint, September 7, 1998
Liquid/Mist Body (Sleep Paralysis)
[Sleep Paralysis and Out-of-Body Sensations. It was hard to fall asleep.]
I am sitting on a bed in my childhood bedroom. The bed used to be part
of a bunk bed set. It is nightime. I get up and look out the west-facing
window, craning my head to be able to see Grammas' place up on the hill.
It is all in darkness up there. I know it must be around 6:00 p.m. and
I guess that they are in the livingroom watching the news and haven't
turned on the kitchen lights yet. I look up into the sky at the brilliant
stars. Then it seems I am laying in the bed again. I get up, feeling groggy,
and find it difficult to open my eyes. I touch my face and am startled
to find it is swollen. My head feels numb. I put my hands to my head and
discover that my whole head is swollen. I feel my swollen face, and my
glasses, and I get a bit panicked, wondering briefly how I am able to
breathe. I stumble into the hall trying to call for D. in the next room
[I assume I have awakened from my nap], knowing he will get me to a hospital
where I can get some help. I can't talk. My ears tingle, and I still can't
open my eyes fully. I can just barely make out light paneled walls in
the wide hallway when my eyes crack open for a split second. [The walls
are not paneled here, and the hall is not wide.] Then I slow down, and
decide I must still be asleep and these sensations the result of sleep
paralysis. I know that relaxing will reduce the sensations, and possibly
eliminate them. Soon I get the sensation of laying in bed [the one I had
really gone to sleep in, not the childhood bed I had dreamed of earlier]
and I think to myself that this would be a good time to try for a lucid
dream or out-of-body. But I feel so tired. In the next instant I feel
as though I am a black/dark purple, thick liquid/mist in the outline of
a human body. [I feel I am in this body and yet I am observing it as though
laying beside it.] I sit up, thinking about sitting and leaving my physical
body laying down. It feels like I have done this. Then suddenly I hear
the theme music and see a brief scene from the opening of the old TV show
from the 70's "Love, American Style." Just as quickly as the
music and scene appeared, it is gone and I begin to slowly rotate upwards
(as though doing a backward somersault), my (liquid/mist) legs in the
air first. With my legs still in the air and higher than the rest of me,
I twist, like a corkscrew into my physical body, feeling then like a small
dry mist, or smoke (light purple or mauve) curling inside the head and
upper portion of the body, as I settle/dissolve into the physical body.
[I don't maneuver like this intentionally, it is all very natural and
automatic.] I wake, stretch and ensure that I am able to move my jaw and
talk, my head feeling normal and not swollen anymore. Lucy,
October 18, 1999
WILD - Local Lucid
It takes me about a half an hour to get back to sleep in the middle of
the night. I lie in bed trying to sleep for awhile and then, when sleep
doesn't come fast, trying to imagine my body switching to the dream image,
rather than my physical body. Pretty soon I sense that happening so I
get this "second body" out of bed. Covers are tangled at my
feet, trailing as I walk. I can't seem to step out of them so I decide
to ignore the feeling. With my attention turned elsewhere, they soon dissolve.
It is duskish in my room. I walk to my apartment door and push it open,
planning to "visit" Apt. 8 across the hall. I stop a moment
and think what do I wish the dream Apt. to be like. Then I say, "I'll
find someone interesting in Apt. 8 and a pretty scene when I go outside."
Taking that moment to think has taken my mind off the hallway. When I
again take notice of the scenery, I find there is a long hall between
me and the apartment across from me. The building looks totally different
now. I go down this new hall, hoping to enter the apartment at the end
of it but disappointed Apt. 8 is gone. As I come close to the end of the
hall, I wake up. A. Dreamer, January 24, 2002
Rock Talk
As I fall asleep, I reach a point where I suddenly realize I'm asleep.
I don't see anything specific, just a hazy pink field of vision. I focus
on perceiving clearly. The pink field slowly resolves into a pink geometric
crystaline or stone being that looks something like a compass rose or
an Aztec calendar. It has no face and doesn't move, but I sense immediately
that it is alive. The being is intelligent, and it communicates directly
with my mind somehow, in a nonlinguistic, nonlinear manner, in a way that
my waking mind cannot comprehend. I get the impression it is very old,
very massive, and very patient. It seems to be curious about me, but very
detached. When our conversation is over, I gradually lose lucidity, and
the dream fades. [Editor's note: Even though Karl didn't specify that
this is a WILD, I include it here since it seems to fit the definition.]
Karl, December 21, 2001
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