A Dream Within a Dream

Early Monday morning I had a number of fascinating dream experiences. Dreams within a dream. Memories within the mind of my dream self. My dream self observing me sleeping. Orchestrating my dreaming. Some of this I've experienced on previous nights, but never a dream within a dream, not that I can recall at least. Following is my account.

Outer-frame dream: A young boy, sometimes Latino or Lebanese, 3 or 4 years old, and sometimes blond and white, 8 or 9 years old, who talked quite a bit. Was he my dream guide? He and I were in an alcove of a waiting area in a large institution, like a hospital or government building. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was writing down a dream. I could see my handwriting in a stenobook, like the one I use in waking life to write down my dreams. I returned to the boy several times, each time after going off to another dream within the outer-frame dream.

In one inner-frame dream, I stood in a large, dusty, neglected yard. I had a memory of the yard as lush and green, but now it was almost devoid of plant life. I looked at the few plants that were still alive in the flower beds. I remembered them when they had flourished. I figured I needed to water them and so got a hose.

Then I heard Rasputin’s excited yip, which he does when he’s happy to see me. The yip came from inside the house, but when I climbed the four or so stairs and opened the door to step inside, he wasn’t there. Instead, I encountered my mother, looking the way she had perhaps a year before her death. She was clearly senile and was talking nonsense. I had to keep shifting position because she continued to shift her gaze, as if she were speaking to someone I couldn’t see.

I left her and explored the rest of the building, which didn’t seem like a house at all but an abandoned office or warehouse. I sensed a male presence, always out of sight.

In another inner-frame dream, I was acutely aware that I was dreaming. In fact, I was either thinking with determination or saying instructions aloud. The instructions offered by Carlos Castaneda in his book “The Art of Dreaming.” He suggests that the dreamer focus on one object upon entering a dream and allow this object to be one’s anchor. If you feel as if you are leaving the dream space and you want to stay rather than shift to another dream space, you look again at the anchor object. Also, do not stare at objects, but rather keep your gaze moving. If you stare at an object, you will be pulled into another dream space. So, as I was dreaming, I was thinking or saying these instructions to myself.

But I encountered a bougainvillea that was so lovely, its color so intense and which took up so much of my view that I was drawn to it and could not stop looking. Very soon, I felt myself lifting from the dream space, floating for a short time, then being transported back to the outer frame, almost sucked back to that frame.

At one point, the dream self was observing the dreamer. I, whoever I was at that point, could see me lying in bed. Moreover, the dream self could hear some noises in the courtyard next to my bedroom. This sure smacks of astral travel.

Last night I slept fitfully, but tonight I hope to do some more exploring. I especially want to work on controlling my dreams and traveling beyond my bedroom. We'll see...