First, yesterday afternoon I took a nap on my couch.
I wake up and sit there on my couch looking around, out the patio window and around my apartment.
It’s the same approximate time of day and the same place where my physical body is, but I feel a little confused about where I am. I recognize it and get that this is where I am, but just barely. I take the confusion as a good sign, because it happens during these types of experiences, but it’s a bit of a false awakening too, and I don’t completely put the pieces together.
I don’t remember what happened immediately after.
(The next morning)
I walk into a large office room inside of a mansion, nicely decorated and expensive looking, with another door on the far wall. To my left, a lady, about 50 years old, is sitting at her desk. I’ll call her June. She’s my lucid dreaming instructor.
Across the room in a chair against the wall near the other door is who I’ll call Margaret. Like me, she’s a student of June and about my age or younger, which here is about 25. We’re here to work on lucid dreaming / leaving our body.
I sit down in a chair beside June, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk. She stands up and sits on my back. It’s a little creepy, but it also is oddly comfortable, and the pain my back goes away, making it easier for me to drift off.
In a short time I find myself looking around the room. Did I enter a lucid dream? This feels slightly different. I don’t see Margaret.
“Am I in the lucid state?,” I ask June. I hear her soothing voice, but I can’t tell if she can hear me. If she can’t, then I’m just talking in the lucid dreaming state.
“Can you hear me? Am I in the lucid state or awake?,” I ask again. Finally I decide I must be in the lucid state, because this seems to be a bit different than when I sat down.
I get up and walk around. There are several more of us in the group besides just Margaret and I, but nobody else is here. The way this works is we start in the staging room, which is June’s office, and when we leave our body we walk into the adjoining room to meet up with the others, to help avoid confusion about who we’re seeing in the room and whether we’re physical.
(The logic here is shaky, not to mention that I’m having a dream about practicing lucid dreaming with this new group to go into yet another dream)
I walk through the door and into a breezeway.
But nobody’s there. What happened? Am I too late? I call out for them.
I turn and walk through another door, exploring this huge house to see if I can find the others, calling out. I go blind and hear the annoying neighbor kids running on their wood floor.
Is that a physical noise I’m hearing from the stupid neighbor kids, or is it within this dream space? What happens if I open my eyes? Am I going to wake up? Probably?
I feel like it’s odd that I can hear that noise and still be completely in this dream space with no sensation of my body lying down.
I ignore the noise and continue with my arms out, maneuvering quickly by touch through endless doorways and around furniture, making progress but not getting anywhere significant. My vision here doesn’t return.
I lost it from there.
Considering these and my past experiences, I think not having bed covers over me helps me get into a lucid dream, and that it has to do with my body being able to stay cooler than I think I want it to be. I’ll keep doing that.