Two years ago, I awoke from a dream so incredible, the feeling of the dream stayed with me for days afterward, and the memory of the dream has stayed with me since. It was not a lucid dream in that I was not aware that I was dreaming, and I did nothing to control or manipulate the dream. Nonetheless, the visions and sensations were as vivid as those of a lucid dream. As is my habit, I wrote every detail of the dream upon waking. This is an edited excerpt from my dream journal, 5 March 2010:
I'm a passenger in a jet airliner flying over a body of water. I look out the window over my left shoulder, and in the distance behind the plane is a snow-capped mountain. The plane descends slowly, silently gliding over a sea of brown rooftops. As it continues its descent, the plane begins to fade, fading, fading until it disappears, leaving me alone, my body floating down, down, gently down, light as a feather, floating slowly, silently, relaxed but upright and straight as if in a tube, my toes pointed down toward the sea of rooftops, now dipping into the sea, floating down, down between buildings that seem to part in order to receive me, down into a narrow street, houses and buildings lined neatly together, open wooden shutters, wooden beams lining each building. It looks something like a Bavarian village.
With my feet hovering ten or twelve inches above the ground, I float my way down the street. People are walking in the street. The atmosphere is festive, yet quiet, as though a carnival or parade had recently passed. The village appears old, yet the pedestrians are dressed in contemporary clothing. As I float along, I wonder whether they can see me. They are all walking with their feet on the ground, and nobody seems to notice that I am floating above the ground, so I assume that they cannot see me.
I love this feathery feeling of floating. I continue floating through the village, enjoying the sensation and the sights.
Upon waking, I still carry in my body the feeling of floating, a felt memory if you will, not unlike the sensation of my body rising and falling in my bed after a day of riding roller coasters at the amusement park. Except in that case, my body really did ride roller coasters. This was only a dream.
Right?
I'm a passenger in a jet airliner flying over a body of water. I look out the window over my left shoulder, and in the distance behind the plane is a snow-capped mountain. The plane descends slowly, silently gliding over a sea of brown rooftops. As it continues its descent, the plane begins to fade, fading, fading until it disappears, leaving me alone, my body floating down, down, gently down, light as a feather, floating slowly, silently, relaxed but upright and straight as if in a tube, my toes pointed down toward the sea of rooftops, now dipping into the sea, floating down, down between buildings that seem to part in order to receive me, down into a narrow street, houses and buildings lined neatly together, open wooden shutters, wooden beams lining each building. It looks something like a Bavarian village.
With my feet hovering ten or twelve inches above the ground, I float my way down the street. People are walking in the street. The atmosphere is festive, yet quiet, as though a carnival or parade had recently passed. The village appears old, yet the pedestrians are dressed in contemporary clothing. As I float along, I wonder whether they can see me. They are all walking with their feet on the ground, and nobody seems to notice that I am floating above the ground, so I assume that they cannot see me.
I love this feathery feeling of floating. I continue floating through the village, enjoying the sensation and the sights.
Upon waking, I still carry in my body the feeling of floating, a felt memory if you will, not unlike the sensation of my body rising and falling in my bed after a day of riding roller coasters at the amusement park. Except in that case, my body really did ride roller coasters. This was only a dream.
Right?
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