As a dream is like a reflection of real life, the events that appear to take place in it generally follow, even in their incoherence, certain coherent chronological laws within the normal sequence of all true events. I want to say that if, for example, I dream that I have broken my arm, it will appear to me that I wear it in a sling or that I use it gingerly, or if I dream that they close the bedroom shutters, it will seem to me that the light is blocked and that darkness is all around me. From this perspective, I imagined that if, in dreams, I make the gesture of putting a hand over my eyes, I should obtain, in the first place, a similar illusion to what really happens if I do the same thing while awake; that is to say, I would make the images of objects, which appear to be placed in front of me, disappear. Then I asked myself if, after producing this interruption of preexisting visions, my imagination could not more easily evoke new objects, ones that I would fix in my thoughts. Experience follows closely with this reasoning. The placing, in my dream, of a hand on my eyes erased, in that moment, the vision of the countryside during harvest time which, beforehand, I had uselessly tried to change using only the strength of my imagination. I did not see anything for a moment — exactly what happened to me in real life. I then made another energetic call to the memory of the much talked-about eruption of the monster and, as if by magic, this memory, nicely placed now in the focus of my thoughts, suddenly appeared clear, brilliant, stormy; and before I woke up, I had an understanding of how the transition itself operated. . If we manage to establish a conclusive way for the will to conserve enough strength during the dream to direct the course of the spirit through the world of illusions and reminiscences (as it directs the body during the day through the events of the real world), we will realize that certain habits of exercising this faculty — joined with being conscious, within our dreams, of the true state — can lead us gradually, through persistence of effort, to very conclusive results. Not only must the dreamer recognize above all that the directing action of his will is reflected in lucid and calm dreams, but he will soon perceive the influence of this same will in his incoherent or passionate dreams. The incoherent dreams will sensibly coordinate themselves under this influence; as for the passionate dreams, full of stormy desires or painful thoughts, the result of this consciousness and of this acquired freedom of spirit will put the painful images aside, favoring, by contrast, happy hopes. The fear of having disagreeable visions will decrease as a result of becoming aware that they are wrong, and the desire to see pleasant images appear will become more effective through recognizing the capacity to evoke them. The desire will soon be stronger than the fear, and since the dominant thought is what makes the images crop up, the agreeable dream will prevail. This, at least, is the way I understand it, in theory, a perceived phenomenon, one that I practice constantly.
Fascinating, right? I don’t know if Castaneda would be inspired by this book or if his discoveries coincide with those of the author by chance. What is certain is that this late-nineteenth-century text shows clearly the method that Castaneda would later elucidate. It was André Breton who recommended this reading to me.
Did you begin to have lucid dreams after having read it, or were you already familiar with the experience?
I had the great luck of having my first lucid dream at seventeen years old. In this dream, I was in a movie theater watching an animated film worthy of Dali. Suddenly I saw myself seated in the center of the theater, and I knew that I was dreaming. I looked toward the exit, but, as I was not more than an adolescent lacking spiritual training or psychoanalytical ability, I thought: “If I cross this door, I will enter into another world and I will die.” And I panicked! My only solution was to wake myself up, and I made enormous efforts to leave the dream, until I felt that I could ascend from the depths toward my body, which seemed to be situated on the surface. I reintegrated into my physical shell, and I woke up. That’s how my first experience went, and frankly, it left me terrified. From then on, I began to familiarize myself with the lucid dream.
How can a person be sure that he is dreaming? After all I also could decide right now, while talking to you, that I am dreaming.
In the beginning I made a test. I supported myself in the air with my two hands as if on an invisible table, and I propelled myself upward. If I floated, I knew I was dreaming. Quickly, I looped around and began working on the dream. I will read you a lucid dream written in my yellow notebook in 1970, which covers for me an important detaiclass="underline" I made an effort for the first time to practice the technique described here.
I am alone in an unknown home. Everything seems completely real, but without knowing why, as nothing indicated that, I think, “Maybe I’m dreaming. If I am dreaming, I can fly.” I make an effort. I support myself in the air with the palms of my hands, and I propel myself up. I float in the room. “It is a dream!” I tell myself. I decide to take advantage of the opportunity to perfect my flight, and not only to see myself fly but to feel myself fly. I turn over; I go up and down. I am satisfied. I decide to plane glide around the whole house. I fly through a corridor, and I arrive in a dark living room. In the corner, I see two five-year-old boys. I go toward them to see them better: they are not boys but old gnomes, skinny and wrinkled. They laugh and hide. They are the spirits of the house. They have a disturbing air. They avoid me. They disappear in the shadows and laugh at me. They don’t dare me to look for them. The dream absorbs me; I lose lucidity. . I travel in a bus without a conductor or passengers. I look out the window and see a petrified forest. I tell myself, “This is probably a dream. I am going to confirm it.” I fly. I get out of the bus by passing through the window glass, and I glide through the forest. I lose lucidity again. . Now I find myself in a cellar, before an opaque window. I don’t hesitate to realize that I am dreaming, and I tell myself, “Surely, this is a dream.” I try to exit flying out the window, but I don’t achieve this. I have the feeling that the walls have various meters of thickness. But I must get through them. I feel this is impossible. I force myself to try. I pass through the wall without difficulty, and I exit the space. Outside there is a blue sky; I float between the clouds. While I let myself be taken by a soft breeze, I think, “I must take advantage of this dream to see my interior God.” Suddenly, I feel a profound exhaustion invade me, obviously caused by a terrible fear. I give myself explanations: “It is too hard a test. I am still not prepared for this meeting; I will leave it for another day.”
And I wake up. On the one hand, I feel content to have discovered this technique that lets me know if I am dreaming, but, on the other hand, I am irritated because of my inability and my lack of value. In my dreams notebook, I write this commentary:
I believe the moment has arrived to go further in the lucid dream: to run risks. But I’m still scared of dying; I do not dare. . I cannot have entered into my unconscious until I find the interior God: trust in Him. . I must pursue the gnomes, confront them, speak to them without confusing myself with their mockery and establish a real contact with them, to know their secrets. I must create worlds, cross Death’s path, get to the center of my being, defeat the monsters and the terrors. . I want to be more courageous next time and overpower my fear. Also, I have to find allies and accept them, not always do all the work alone.