Mutual Lucid The Reflecting Pool (A Missed Meeting) Christmas Gifts (A Pair of Meshing Dreams) Parallel Selections (A Night Of Mutual Dreams)

The Reflecting Pool: A Missed Meeting During the Lucidity Project (1984-1987), Robert Waggoner and I had similar scenery and other shared elements in our dreams of the same night. This suggests that we were dreaming about the same "place," even if we didn't see one another. We reached our dream destinations, but we didn't meet. We missed each other instead. Common elements in our two dreams: Reflecting pool Garden Pale colored buildings City park/college campus Sculpture/Clay Being unable to fly Linda Lane Magallón, "The Rose And The Skyscraper," 5/4/86 At the beginning of the dream I am inside a building. As I emerge, I become lucid and quickly get airborne. I come flying low over a couple of small hillocks into a city park. Off in the distance on the right is a solitary pale colored skyscraper. I remember Kevin's idea to "bring back the rose" so I decide to look for one ("bring back the rose" means to take a dream object into physical reality, one that doesn't disappear when you wake). I turn to the left. Under the overhanging branches of a large oak tree, there's plants in the middle of a circular plot of earth cut into the grass. As I come closer, I see that the flowers appear to be gladiolas or irises. Maybe there's a rose planted among them. Round the other side, I find a blossom that looks like a rose. It's colored burgundy and orange. Close enough. I pick the flower towards the base of its long stem and carefully pull it out of the entwined stems of the other flowers. Concentrating at such close range has caused the dream to begin to fade. As I walk away, I tell a young blonde-haired woman, "If I keep talking, I'll continue the dream." And it works! The dream reestablishes itself. Across a long walkway filled with people, I notice the skyscraper once again. I decide to head for it. If I can make it that far, it'll really be a long period of lucidity. I wonder­will I remember the entire dream? "I'm going to walk this way," I tell the woman, narrating the journey in order to keep the lucidity going. "Boy, there are a lot of people here." With lethargic looks on their faces, they watch me pass by. Talking to them would probably not be productive. I notice that I have been moving in slow motion, like I'm walking through molasses. "Why am I moving so slowly through this dream?" I ask. Then I remember that I'm using Jill Gregory's technique to ask for an explanation of the dream, while still in the dream state. As I've been walking along, I've become aware that the "rose" in my left hand has metamorphosed. It now feels like soft clay. When I open my hands to look, sure enough, the rose is now a wet, grey sculpture. I close my hand and suggest to myself that when I open it again, I will discover via symbol why I am traveling so slowly. I press the clay and feel it metamorphose again into an egg shape. I open both hands: there are two egg shapes. The right-hand one has a bubble of air in it. Shall I pop it? And it looks like silly putty. I become aware that the heavy lumps are holding me down. I can't possible fly this way, so I look around for someplace to deposit the eggs. Off to my right is a raised plant bed with a man standing on the opposite side. I toss the right-hand clay egg into the base of a black rose bush without blossoms. "Silly putty" is a man-made chemical­will it be poisonous? If so, the guy will retrieve it. At the end of a rectangular basin of an empty reflecting pond, I take off flying again, straight ahead. At the far end, I make a 90 degree turn to the left, fly over the pathway towards the skyscraper and up the face of the building. Up, up, all the way to the top of the spire! I turn around and yell to the people in the basin and on the walkways below. "I made it!" Some of them look upward. I wonder­do they know they can fly, too? Robert Waggoner, 5/4/86 I am on a college campus. It's a modern setting, light brown brick, sculpture gardens, reflecting pools... I am being chased down a hall. I'm running and running. At the end of the hall is a giant plate glass window. I think, "I'm trapped." But suddenly I realize that this is a dream and I triumphantly smash through the glass into the dark night air. I don't feel like I can fly very well, so I decide to wake up.

Christmas Gifts: A Pair of Meshing Dreams There are two important kinds of mutual dreams: meshing and meeting. A meshing dream involves information interchange. Ideas, feelings, emotions, symbols, themes, events or the dreamscape can be shared between dreams. Many samples of non-lucid meshing dreams can be found in written literature, but lucid examples are comparatively rare. Lucy Christian and I dreamt up a pair of lucid meshing dreams during The Lucidity Project of the Seth Dream Network (1984-87). Some of the elements in our dreams were literally identical: a large room and the ability to fly. Some were metaphorically related. I saw "silhouettes of buildings" in my dreams; Lucy viewed "furniture of asymmetrical shapes" in hers. We both met friendly older men, had memory trouble, were concerned with name recognition and described our surroundings in artistic terms. Linda Lane Magallon, "Dr. Hogue," 12/12/85 I become lucid in a large room which seems to be the hallway of an office building. I start calling out, "I want someone to recognize me!" People are walking back and forth; the closest man gives me a weird look. That stops me; I think, oops, maybe I'm being too pushy for this place. I don't really know the rules here. Then I think, "Oh, hell, this is just a dream!" and begin calling out again. The scene changes and I'm in another room with an older dark-haired man seated on a comfortable overstuffed chair in front of me. "Hello, Linda," he says pleasantly. "Dr. Hogue!" I exclaim in recognition. "We've met before, haven't we?" (It seems we met in an earlier "scene" of this dream, but on waking I don't remember it.) He comes toward me. "What would you like to do?" he asks. I'm aware there's a lot that can be done with lucidity. But right now I just want to have fun. "I want to fly," I reply. Dr. Hogue puts his left arm around my waist and stretches out the other to hold my right hand wrist. We take off out a window and fly swiftly forward toward the horizon. The scenery is mainly flat: to the right is a large body of vivid turquoise water. We stop midair and I concentrate on it. The wavy water seems to change into lines of various shades of blue, like those found in an oil painting. To the left are the silhouettes of buildings: as I look closely, I realize they are unlike any buildings I've ever seen in my time period and wonder if I'm in the future. I try to commit the shapes to memory, but the only ones I do recall upon waking have triangular roofs. Lucy Christian, 12/17/85 I am in a large room when I become lucid. I start to fly out when I notice that the room is very beautiful, so I change my mind and explore the room instead. First, the ceiling catches my eye. It is made of shimmering silvery panels. The room is filled with beautiful flowers of many kinds and colors. I have the feeling of being on the inside of a beautifully wrapped Christmas gift, looking out. I wander into an adjoining room, asking aloud if there is a friendly spirit around. An older man appears and we hug. Several others join us. Then lucidity and memory fade. Later, I become lucid again. This time I am in a narrow stairway going upstairs. I come to a narrow yellow door that opens into an apartment with some very unusual furniture. It looks like it is made of some kind or corrugated cardboard construction built into asymmetrical shapes, yet comfortable and functional. They are painted in soft colors with graphics as are the surrounding walls. Several women are in the apartment who seem to be welcoming me into their group. I tell them I am in a lucid dream. One says, so is she. When I ask them what their names are in waking life, they give me some names, but I do not recognize any of them. Nor do I remember them now. One woman tells me it is a very "mental" question. Notice the 5 day time-slip. Mutual dreams don't have to occur on the same night, because dreams are loose in both time and space. Lucy lives on the East Coast of the United States; I live on the West. Both of us were incubating to the same Lucidity Project target goal, "Gift yourself with a Christmas dream." Both of us were lucid. But even though we had dreams of similar form and content, we didn't see one another. Actually, we've never met face-to-face in waking life, either.

Parallel Selections From a Night of Mutual Dreaming Beginning in April, 1992, dreamworker Jill Gregory and I agreed to dream together. We usually incubated a mutual dream once a week, although we remained on the lookout for possible spontaneous cross-connections on other days. On June 6th we made a major effort to program and remember our dreams. To increase recall, we both used alarm clocks, reset every few hours. Each time we woke during the night, we had the opportunity to write down our dreams and re-program the goal. The goal was: Meet each other at the hot tub. This was an imaginal incubation. Neither of us actually owned a hot tub, though we both wanted one (later, that dream came true for each of us). Only Jill managed to dream the hot tub, but we did succeed in attaining several instances of shared symbology, parallel phraseology and common themes in both lucid and non-lucid dreams. Following are excerpts from our night of mutual dreaming. In some of the selections, we were lucid (L). Linda Lane Magallón, 6/6/92 Jill Susan Gregory, 6/6/92 I am walking up a wide, dirt driveway. To the left is a rectangle of animated people. I know a birthday party is going on. I am somewhere inland on the California coast, having arrived there by car. This is a place where members of my child-care co-op meet and party...Outside about 90 feet from the house is a redwood circular hot tub. (L) I'm dream thinking about the dream I had yesterday: I come sweeping up a hill, flying to a church. (L) I am lucid and doing some dream thinking. I am concerned about sending Linda too much of my imagery and process. I perceive that each one of my dreams of the night is 1% of my whole night's dreaming. I try to sense how much dreaming I have collected for her so far tonight. It is not enough, I decide. I return to sleep to dream some more for her. Below is a cluster of new buildings: geometric shapes like pyramids and cubes. Huge, like they would be for a national monument. I am flying to a huge wherehouse (sic) in Florida. I see it far below me. It is sheet metal outside, very new and modern, and rectangular in shape. My children and I walk across a track towards the sidewalk. As they approach the sidewalk, the kids begin to frolic a bit. A man tells me that they have to "get in line." (L) I am flying superman-style south and Linda Magallón is flying superman-style north. We are each racing to a cashier check stand line... I see a man who is in his fifties sitting on my side of my bed near my feet...I know that he is in charge of my dreams...He says "No" to my request for the special dream with Linda. (L) While watching colored hypnogogic images flash before me, I finally manage to "freeze" one and enter a bluish room. I call out "Jill Gregory!" but the image crumbles. Then, again from the waking state, I enter another blue room. It has floor to ceiling windows behind a dais filled with pillows where my husband Manny and daughter Teresa are seated... Remembering Jill, since she's obviously not here, what should I do? Bring her here? My intention and her body might find it hard to get through the wall. I decide I need to go north. When I turn left, towards the "northern" wall, I see that it is hung with a zigzag row of circular mirrors, at an angle where I can see no reflection, just a glare. I go to dive through one of the mirrors and the wall behind it, but the imagery dissolves. (L) I am in a house with a large man, a woman and others. There are tiles all around a window in the living room. I am standing near the window and near the woman who has dark hair and is heavy­plump. She is wearing a dowdy, shiny dark blue rayon dress... Suddenly I push the woman out of the window. The glass shatters spectacularly. I am hoping that this will push the woman into a heightened awareness of herself and into another plane of reality. I know that she won't be hurt and that I am not violating social or ethical rules. She falls 8­10 feet onto soft grass.

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