I’ve been having some really strange dreams lately — about dreams. And I’m sure I have Inception to blame for it. I have NEVER had this kind of interaction between myself and dream characters before. Here’s the latest:
I was invited by a secret company to be involved with different dream experiments involving lucid dreaming. They knew to contact me by reading this blog.
Before going under, they explained what I was to be dreaming about — a pellet gun battle in an old factory with a friend of mine.
I’m going to take some time right now to explain a few things: I realized last night that although I do lucid dream most of the time (I am aware that I am dreaming and can consciously participate within/change the content of the dream), the ability to change things gets harder in dreams within other dreams. I think this might be because I have another sleeping version of myself to deal with somewhere, so the more dreams I stack on, the more disconnected I feel like I become with me (the dreamer) and the other me (within the dream).
All that being said, I had some trouble lucid dreaming like the scientists wanted me to. The dream changed of its own accord at the beginning. A friend of mine — Reid — and I were indeed at the old factory, but instead of pellet guns, we had small frisby discs that we threw at each other in a sequence that led us in and around the factory. During that time, however, I started to remember that I was indeed dreaming and what the doctors had asked me to do. So I changed the frisbees to pellet guns and we continued our faux battle. But not long after I had caught on to everything, a man ran up a set of metal stairs to the balcony where we were fighting, lifted up a small square device that looked a bit like a small camera, and from one of its corners sprayed a round of real bullets at Reid and I. Read was hit, and fell to the ground. I panicked as the man approached, feeling like I had failed the scientists’ tests. Feeling like there was nothing else to do, I started the sequence over.
Reid and I were now back at the beginning of our routine, only this time, we’ve started out with the guns. I direct us both down the same course of action we took the last time, and when the man comes up the stairs and points his little camera-gun at us, I grab his arm and stare at him.
“Leave us alone,” I say. “Put the gun down now and I’ll leave this place.”
The man nodded. “I was just trying to rob the bank around the corner and you guys were stirring up the authorities with your little game,” he said.
“I’ll be gone as soon as you put your gun down.”
The man did, and I woke up in the laboratory. The scientists said that although I didn’t get it right the first time, they were impressed with the second go. They told me that more tests were necessary, however. I explained to them that it’s harder for me to lucid dream when the dream is inside another one, to which they replied that I was catching on fast and would need further training.
They instructed me about what to dream again, saying that this time I would meet a person within the dream who would help me.
I fell asleep into a scene in a marketplace with cobblestone roads. The place looked an awful lot like the city of Saltillo, Mexico, only a lot cleaner. There were no less people walking the streets, that’s for sure.
It wasn’t long before a man made his way up to me. I knew immediately that it was the dude who was supposed to guide me through; he looked a bit like Bruce Willis, admittedly.
“Are you lucid now?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Are you always lucid from the beginning?”
“No,” I said. “Not always.”
I followed the man through the market square, which was nestled between an array of adobe shops and houses. A small fountain and statue stood in the middle of the square. There were tons of people moving around us.
As we neared the south entrance of the square, I could see a grassy knoll just beyond some of the far shops. That seemed to be where we were headed.
Before we reached it, however, two men in black masks stepped in front of us and pulled guns. My guide took shelter behind a shop and exchanged fire with one of the men, leaving me weaponless to defend myself against the other. I created a gun in the back of my pants and pulled it out. I remember still feeling panicked despite knowing I was dreaming. I pointed my gun at the man, who was seriously only a bit farther than arm’s length away, and tried to shoot him. I fired off many shots to no avail, and the reason was this: every time I tried to shoot the man, my arm would come into contact with some sort of barrier that outlined the man’s body, if that makes sense. Every time I attempted to aim my gun at any part of his body that would harm him, my arm would “bounce off.” Meanwhile, the man was firing off numerous shots into my forehead, which did no damage whatsoever.
Finally, I ran out of bullets, panicked, and fled to where my guide was behind the shop.
“You’re not very good at this yet,” he said to me.
“Are you kidding? I didn’t let any bullets even scratch me. I never get hit by bullets in dreams if I don’t want to.”
“You couldn’t hit him.”
I folded my arms. “So?”
“So, does that mean you don’t really want to hit him?”
“I guess.”
“You’re pathetic.”
I grew angrier. In a last attempt to prove myself to everyone, I stepped out from hiding and began to yell at the men.
“Lay down!”
They ceased fire. I could feel myself gaining control over the dream state like I had before with regular dreams.
“LAY DOWN!” I yelled in a voice that shook the market like an earthquake. People screamed. The two men walked to the grassy knoll, laid down on it, and stayed there, unmoving, as I walked back to my guide, who was smiling.
