* * * Hail Mary

Lucid Dream of March 16, 2013

As I exit a clothing store, and continue walking along the dimly lit passages of an underground mall, I become aware of mysteriously walking into a lucid dream. Then I spot a woman from earlier in the dream because she had helped me by pointing out a garment she said would suit me. She’s several yards away, but her bright-green long-sleeved sweater is unmistakable. She has her back to me now, and as I approach her, I become fully lucid at the same moment I ask her, “Who are you?”

Turning to face me, she begins speaking quickly, in a matter of fact tone of voice. I recall only two fragments of what she said: “A rush of cells to wash the scalpel… just looks down at this lump of dead matter.” She seems to be telling me that as a character in my dream, she is merely a symbolic manifestation of physiological processes going on in my body while I sleep. This is really disappointing, even intensely disturbing, and as she goes on relentlessly, I interrupt her by demanding, “Are you testing me?”

My outburst silences her, and she now graces me with a gently indulgent little smile. “Yes,” she admits, and suddenly I see her clearly. Her bright-green sweater has transformed into a shining, long-sleeved dark-green shirt with gold buttons, and her hair is not merely blonde, it is golden. She is young and attractive, in a distinguished, intelligent-looking way, and her expression is intriguingly animated. We begin walking side-by-side, heading for the exit as she communicates with me, but this part happens in a kind of dim, muted blur of colors.

The dream becomes vivid again when we step out into the night, and continue walking together beneath a white, gently curving arbor that feels like it could go on forever. It is surrounded by a vast white circular building with tall arched doors and windows (all of them black now) lining its multiple stories. There are open spaces between the arbor and the building, in which I glimpse fountains and other artistic structures. I recognize this place, I’ve been here before in another lucid dream, in a different section, when the sun was shining. But tonight I have eyes only for my lovely Guide, whose golden hair frames her face in dense ringlets.

Keeping a firm grip on my right hand, she never stops speaking with fervent eloquence, mysteriously instructing me. I listen to her in wonder, for she is expressing herself in perfect, beautiful verse. I have never heard anyone actually speak like this; the closest approximation is an actor reciting Shakespeare. She uses no archaic words, she talks quickly and normally, and yet everything she says effortlessly emerges as exquisite prose-poetry, her conversation a verbal form of music.

Fully wrapped up in the gravity of her intense presence, and acutely aware of the grip she has on my right hand, I dare to ask her, “Do all Angels talk like you?” Falling silent, she looks directly at me, and I slowly wake.

After recording my dream, when I fall asleep again, I have another vivid but brief dream:

I’m sitting in a classroom, aware of being dressed in black like the other students. We’re all facing a large window-screen framing blue sky and clouds. And far below us, a black grid-map is displayed over the Earth’s surface. To my right, the professor is an amorphous black-clad presence where he stands just to one side of the window-screen. He is educating us on some of the unfortunate differences between how things are experienced where we are now vs. how they are experienced on earth, and how vital it is that they be synched up.

Just before I wake, a male Voice that fills the dream space says, “Hail Mary!”

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