Dream: Borrowing the Blackbird's Wings LUCID

Dream 20021005, 5:00 AM:

I’m at the Kingwood house, sort of. Lissa is here, and she is being very flirtatious with me. She walks outside the front door sort of trailing me along, and there is someone with us taking pictures. Lissa says something about how she needs pictures for a magazine, and she leans toward me and kisses me. I feel weird and uncomfortable.

She leads us toward the street, and there is a strange bunch of machinery here that apparently controls the water for the block. It is mounted up on a hill that separates the house from the street, and it is probably 10 feet wide and 6 feet front to back. It is a green steel platform with an assembly of knobs, levers, and turn wheels. It reminds me of the controls for a mechanical plant. She wants to take a picture of us on top of it kissing. I still feel weird. She leans over and sniffs me, as if to see what cologne I’m wearing; I tell her I don’t wear much at all these days, except for this – and show her the scent locket Chris gave me. She smells it, and says that it’s nice. There are kids here, and I keep having to tell them not to mess with the water machinery, because it would mess up the water for the whole block.

Then, there are a bunch of people running from the house. Apparently there is someone involved with the water system trying to get away; I don’t know why. I have an image of him hiding in some room that looks like part of an industrial building, and talking to the people who are here on the phone. The mood is suddenly tense; they are trying to capture him by tracing his phone call.

Then another shift, and there are a bunch of people pouring out of the house, like school has let out. They come up toward where I am, and there are some kids talking about going to “Shar’s” – I think it’s a restaurant. They are throwing a huge fit. There is a woman here that’s my friend; she and I are taking care of these kids. She says something about how once they’ve made up their minds, they won’t go anywhere else; I tell her that’s fine, and she can take them. She seems chagrined.

Then, I’m walking toward the house. It seems like all the excitement is finished. I look up into the sky, which is really beautiful; it reminds me of a paramecium, or of a paisley print. There are little parts of the cloud wiggling gently as if they have independent movement. I point this out to someone I’m walking along with, but they aren’t as interested as I am, and go on inside. I lie down on my back on the grass to watch the clouds some more. They continue to be beautiful and strange. They shift color a little bit, becoming more blue and white. I watch a little cluster of the wiggling parts, and think that they look like little birds.

Then a little white bird drops from the clouds. I realize that I’m dreaming, and become lucid. The little white bird is pecking at the ground beside my shoulder, and I startle him a little when I move. More and more birds fall to the ground, and now there are probably a dozen or more around me. I want to have them lift me up into the sky. They don’t seem to be getting the idea. They have turned into black birds now, and are a little larger. Buio shows up, and starts rubbing against me, but I explain to him that today I’m going to fly with the birds, and he needs to let me alone so he won’t frighten them. I chant the words, “Lend me your wings so I can fly…” a couple of times, trying to get the birds to carry me up into the sky. They sort of pick at my clothes and tug, but they’re just not strong enough. So I stand up, and walk toward the house. I decide that I’m going to fly through the window. I look at it, and it is a large single plate of glass. I can see my reflection, and also the furniture inside. I decide that if I’m going to fly, I ought to borrow the black birds’ wings; I look at my arms, then at the reflection of myself. I watch the reflection, and shake my arms out behind me, visualizing them becoming wings. They do, but they look something more like costume wings than real bird wings; there are a lot of stray feathers. I take a little run and leap through the window. There’s not any sensation of glass, and I’m through. I am flying through the house, which is not any house I know. It is full of dark woods and lush red and brown and orange fabrics. It reminds me of Polynesian or Hawaiian style, with lots of exposed structural members. I notice that my breathing feels constricted, as if I’m breathing through cloth. I say out loud, “Breathe easier,” and it seems to clear it some, but not enough. I wake up.

But not really. It’s a false awakening. I am in a bedroom with Chris, and it seems like there are two twin beds. We are sitting together on the same bed, and I am slipping Kego some maccaroni and cheese that I have in my hand. She eats it quickly. Chris gives me a look, like I shouldn’t be sneaking her food. It feels weird, and I wonder briefly why I have maccaroni in my hand. *end, for real*