Dreaming running down by the Thames

I’m running south on the Thames towpath in Oxford, approaching Iffley lock, with the Donnington Bridge Arms on the right and the weir on the left.  In this dream, everything is as clear as in waking reality.  Colour and degree of detail are perfect.

The Thames (Isis) leading downstream to Iffley Lock in Oxford

As I pass the weir, the path slopes gently downward, and I feel the descent gently pull me forward.  Accelerating comfortably, I become increasingly aware of my dream body and become LUCID.  My legs are now turning over at an incredible tempo, at about twice their usual speed.  I can feel a beautiful harmony in my body as the landscape sweeps by, from underneath the trees by the lock, through the open gate leading into the fields beyond.  I feel an open smile spread across my face: the feeling of liberation and oneness with the reality of this dreamscape.  The motion is perfectly smooth and fluid, my legs turning over in almost impactless circles, driven by the deeper motor of my hips and pelvis.  I feel the rhythm of my feet padding down on the cool, soft, slightly muddy and puddled ground, each footstep lightly splashing in sound.  Fast and fluid, into the fields, with wintery trees and an incandescent pale blue sky above.  It is so alive!

I decide to examine my hands (one of my usual lucid dream tasks), but it’s as if my current consciousness doesn’t possess hands: in fact, I don’t see my body at all in this dream.  I force the issue, trying to see my hands again, but now (as a result?) the dreamscape begins to break apart, dissolving.  I hear a high-pitched sound like an electric motor and feel some brief, mild vibrations from my physical body as I return to usual waking consciousness.*

*These kinds of physical symptoms often occur as consciousness transfers between different layers or ‘dimensions

Lucid dream running through a forest

Although this is an old dream pre-dating this website, its flavour and vividness still live with me like as if it happened just yesterday.  The memory of a lucid dream tends to last as long — if not longer – than that of events in waking life.  And so I include it here:

I’m running on a forest path and my legs feel heavy, as if gravity is mercilessly pulling them to the ground with every step.  The most amazing astral lights and colours surround me, almost psychedelically.  Bright light shines through the leaves, illuminating the whole forest in a dappled play of light and shadow.  It’s as if shafts of intense and other-worldly sunlight are penetrating the thick, morning mist, still safely held in the arms of the trees above me after a cool night. Either the striking display of light or else the sight of my own dream body causes me to become LUCID.  I look at my arms and hands, which do not dissolve or waver in any way (as they often do upon examination in a lucid dream).  They feel as completely stable and solid as in ‘real’ life.  I look at my camouflage shorts, as well as at the skin and hair on my legs: everything here is stable and convincingly realistic too.  I continue running along the cool path, effortlessly gaining energy in my legs.  Coming to a clearing, I hold my arms up and greet the sun in its full glory.