I've only ever had a handful of lucid dreams—those in which I'm aware I'm dreaming and can influence their events. The first and most vivid one happened when I was on morphine in the hospital. I have had several more since I started taking Remeron, but they only occurred as I was falling asleep, and they always wakened me almost immediately. Last night, for the first time I can remember, I realized I was dreaming midstream.
I was hiking with three companions along the Bruce Trail. We were passing through heavy forest and scrambling over dark, weathered dolostone full of pits and crhasms, even more rugged than is usually found atop of the Niagara Escarpment. We had to climb up and down crags, always aware of the sheer cliff a little way to our left, hidden by trees. The person leading us was George, a local writer I met in January but subsequently lost contact with, a hopeful acquaintance that never blossomed. The other two were behind me; I couldn't see who they were.
We came upon a crevasse that crossed our path, about two metres wide. The far side was slightly higher. I was supposed to jump across first, but I knew it was very deep. I started to experience vertigo and wanted to avoid making it worse, so I refused to approach the edge.
"Come on," said George. He stepped on some kind of steel brace fastened across the crack, and used it to leap onto the far side. It was about the width of my foot, slightly crooked, and painted celadon green, partly camouflaging it against the colour of rocks and foliage, which explained why I hadn't noticed it before.
Again I refused. As is always the case with my fear of heights, I realized it was irrational, that my chance of tripping and falling was slight. But I wasn't willing to take the risk.
"Here, I'll throw you a rope and we'll help you across," he said. He produced a strand of macramé jute from one of his pockets and tossed one end to me. Our other companions tried to push me forward, but the more they all urged me, the more I resisted, until I finally turned away and looked for another place to cross.
Later, realizing it was a dream and that I couldn't hurt myself, I decided to try crossing and returned to the place to seek their help, but everything beceme slippery and unsteady (the earth slanting) and we couldn't get anywhere near the crevasse.
Later again, I woke up and noticed that a muscle knot under my right shoulder blade, which had been bothering me since Sunday morning, was particularly painful.
Some time later I had another, related dream. Once again I was walking along dark, rocky terrain, but now accompanied by my daughters. The rocks were smooth and the obstacles regularly spaced. In fact it looked like a scene from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets computer game. Marian and I were approaching a crevasse and trying to gauge the distance so we would know when to jump, when Brenna appeared on the other side, running toward us. I yelled at her, but she jumped anyway. The opening was too wide and she started to fall.
A few years ago, around the time I was struggling to maintain access to the girls, and after they moved away, I had a series of nightmares in which Brenna died. I remember a couple that involved her running into heavy traffic (she was only three or four at the time). Several times I awoke screaming.
This time, I felt only brief and mild anxiety. I simply used my special lucid dreaming powers and a beam of white light to lift her onto the top of the cliff.
I woke up again, and the knot in my back was gone.
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