The dream channel has been running wild lately. This morning, I was in a dystopian world in which thoughts needed to be kept secret or these mean, nasty dudes would do brutal things to out of the box thinkers. I witnessed and experienced it. I was attempting to escape down a chute (a polished wooden sliding board), but first had a black back pack that I sent down ahead of me. In it was a new small tape recorder that I planned to use to do interviews. I thought it would stop at the bottom of the chute, but instead, it kept on going and slid down a hill and into the water that looked at times like an ocean and at times like a water fall where the flow receded and then gushed out. I slid down and ran after it. I stood at the bottom of the crevice where the water was coming out and decided to be daring and climb up as the gushing had dissipated temporarily, but knew I had a small window of opportunity before it came out and I could get knocked over. I made it through and found myself in a placid lake where two little girls were paddling about. I asked them to keep their eyes open for the backpack and they smiled and said they would. At that moment, I reached down and my hand closed around the strap of the back pack. I felt the tape recorder in it, but thought for sure that it would be water logged and ruined. I swam back to shore and brought the soggy back pack into a building and opened it. The tape recorder was dry! And then I woke up.

Almost immediately upon entering into the nocturnal play, as an adept lucid dreamer, I had a sense of what my mind may have been attempting to communicate. I dialogue often with my dreams, as if doing a Gestalt exercise that has me taking on the roles of the various aspects of my psyche’. In this case the water was telling me that although it seemed overwhelming at times, if I trusted and dove into it, I would find myself making  safe passage and seeing my way clear to the other side.  It felt like I was being birthed into a new life. The slide invited me to take a ride and be carried from one place to the next, but I wanted to have the back pack make a test run first. It allowed me to carry precious possessions like the tape recorder that represented my career and joy as a journalist/interviewer. The terrorists were my own inner critics still tormenting me and wanting to convince me that they were in charge. Sorry, guys….I’m not buying it.  There are some things that I have, without great success, attempted to keep hidden even from myself. Into the light of day they will always emerge.

http://youtu.be/n-DmAh0dObI Dream Weaver by Gary Wright