There are some cultures who have believed the dreamworld was reality and reality was a dream, and I always found that concept fascinating. What if that were the case? What if our spirit, soul, essence, neurogenic energy, or whatever goes off into this other dimension where we lead a completely separate life, likely less restricted by the typical physical laws like gravity and matter density. Even more interesting, what if rather than being more “real”, what if this dream life is symbiotic with our physical life? One cannot live without the other, and what one does in one affects the other. And not just in some metaphorical, dream analysis way as the psychoanalyst in me is arguing in my head. A real, tangible connection, like two lives on separate worlds inextricably bound to one another.

I do believe in astral travel, though I don’t think of it in some mystical sense. If anything, it’d be exactly what was just described. The difference being you can recall better what happens upon waking than you would if you were not actively paying attention. Lucid dreaming works in reverse too. Have you ever found yourself in a dream and remembered, in dream, with clarity, the details of the uneventful day before? It is as rare as remembering the blase details of a dream day. This conscious effort to retain knowledge across the divide between consciousness and dreaming is, quite likely, the path to external enlightenment and self-acceptance.

I could go on for ages about these theories, and I probably will as time goes by. But there’s a reason I brought up Dreamwalking. I had a horrid dream last night involving a group of malevolent neighbors with shotguns and mischievous plans for me and mine looming in the hallway outside my apartment. I was spending time with a friend watching movies, then I felt movement outside. Being on the second floor, I can typically feel the vibrations when someone is in the hallway outside my door.

I went near the door to look thru the peep hole, the leader of them was standing dead center, shotgun aimed directly at me. And he really went all out on the creep factor! He had this gas mask of sorts on with a cloak, almost like a tusken raider, but in all black with larger shoulders and, of all things, your average dickies jeans and dirty, white sneakers. Maybe 3 or 4 men were with him, and they reminded me of the latino version of deliverance inbreeding (I found one quite attractive in a trashy way).

Anyway, next thing I know my door has one big hole and multiple smaller ones as he blasts at me. 5 minutes later, scared to death, I approach from a distance hoping to see thru the hole they made, only to see him still standing there waiting for me! Another shot goes off ringing and reverberating thru my skull. Yikes, I am in trouble. I could go off the balcony in a pinch, then I hear “Be sure you have Larry in the parking lot, fucking pervert might try to fly off, then what would we do all night?” So they are one step ahead of me. And still terrifying. Even if Larry isn’t a very intimidating name.

What do I do next? Do I reach for the nearest potential weapons and wait for one to make his way in and bash him good? Nah, the thought of confronting them was barely even present, I was too scared to formulate a plan or remember self defense techniques. And to have to become violent, I thought I would lose something important inside. Do I call the apartment manager, a neighbor, a friend, the police? Nope. I thought the police wouldn’t believe me without proof, lamented I never really connected with any neighbors, felt there was no friend I would want to drag into the horror (assuming they could even help) and the apartment manager? Didn’t even think of her then, like she didn’t exist. The friend who had just been there had mysteriously vanished (some friend). I was alone in this little bubble of terror, trapped, and with no help on its way.

Being a big proponent of non-action as the best action in select circumstances, I went back to watching TV and tried to tune them out, hoping they would get bored if I was unresponsive. Of course, I couldn’t help but try to hear what they were saying and doing, and just when I would start to calm down, some confirmation of the continuing doom would be delivered to me. “Soon, boys, soon, let’s let him sweat awhile. His fear is tasty,” the leader said muffled thru his mask, but somehow sounding clearer than his unmasked companions. They wouldn’t let me forget they were there, and, again, how horrifying.

Still, I sat, unable to make a move, unwilling or too scared to even try to defend myself. Their fear mongering had been very effective it seemed. I found myself aching for an end to it, regardless if the outcome involved my destruction. I wanted to run into the hallway telling them to fuck off and welcome my demise with at least some sense of honor and integrity. But that did not feel wise.

Then I had to pee. I know, terribly blase, but even in these situations, particularly when it leaves you sitting for lengths of time, eventually nature calls. Anxiety was inducing a shy bladder though, of course. Can’t fight off crazy rednecks, can’t escape, can’t call on anyone, my friend left somehow without a word of concern, and here I was staring at a fucking toilet unable to relieve my bladder. My anger boiled up.

Rallying the rage to my aid, I went to the door. I looked out the peep hole. No one was there. OK. That’s weird. I peep around seeing if maybe one is hiding in a corner, then, like every good horror movie, the big bad masked leader dude came right in front of the peephole so we are looking at each other eye to eye. I could almost hear the orchestral “BUM-BUM SKREE SKREE”. His eyes were brown with little strains of burgundy, his mask had been removed, and he was remarkably handsome. His eyes were filled with a desperate longing to connect to something, his chosen method of course was fear, but even then I could see all he wanted was that connection. For a second, I felt for him. Stupid as it sounds, for a second, I connected with this crazy, lonely, desperate man and wanted to help somehow. Then again, maybe he was just playing on my lonely/sex card to get me to let him in since fear stopped working.

“You cannot come in,” I told him. “Cause a fuss all you want, I will not let you in, not after all this. I mean, look at my door!” Just then I glance and notice all the damage created earlier is gone. Huh. I look back thru the peep hole to see this masked man walking backwards slowly, but it had a very ethereal quality, like he was floating. Scraps of his cloak, somehow damaged since I first saw him, were floating like little tentacles around him.

“My friends are gone,” he said, still sounding spooky but I got the feeling of a hurt little kid somehow.

“You still can’t come in. Leave. Now.”

And just like that, he was gone. Not only was he not in view, I couldn’t feel the malevolent presence at all anymore. But I was still shaken to the core. Even so, I opened the door. It was oddly heavy. There was a ton of light, way more than usual particularly for the middle of the night, like I’d been sitting in darkness for weeks and only just came out into daylight.

Then I woke up. Went to go pee for real this time. It was a satisfying pee, I’ll tell you what. And I’ll admit, I was slightly cautious about exiting my apartment to get on with my day. Just a little. Yes, I looked out the peep hole, yes I analyzed where the men had been standing in my dream, and, yes, I even looked for evidence of some sort. So sue me. It was a scary dream!

So here’s my theory, well, the primary one: While threats could be made til the cows come home, there was never a chance of those men getting inside my apartment. One of the superstitions held through time is that evil cannot come into one’s home uninvited. This doesn’t apply in the physical world like you would see in your standard vampire movie, and it doesn’t just apply to evil either. While Dreamwalking, your homes in the physical world are your anchor, like an extension of yourself, a window to look out from. They are loaded with YOUR cognitive energy and formed by YOUR whims. Another entity even sharing the same space is a challenge, you need to have a deep connection with whomever occupies this personal space or else they couldn’t be there either.

Yes, psychoanalysis (here it comes) dictates here that those men were likely representative of some fear of, you name it, the outside world, men, neighbors, being “different” and subjugated for it. Hell, the masked man could be compared to my own id, the inner child, on a rampage because I won’t come out to play. God knows I do enjoy horror, so it would be natural and playful for the id to act as the masked man. I never let myself be the bad guy if I can help it, so the id would be all over fear-mongering potentially. All valid points and I can’t say for certain they are not the case. I’m open to hearing any thoughts and arguments.

But in this case, and for the sake of this post, I don’t believe I had a deep connection with this masked man or his compatriots. I don’t believe they were representative of my id, my fear of the world, or anything of the sort. I DO believe they were taking advantage of my id and my fears. I didn’t know who they were, never saw them before, and hope I never see them again. The only way they had any hope of getting in would be to force a connection through fear, which is exactly what they were doing. If they could get me to believe, in terror, that they COULD occupy my home, that would be the equivalent of an invitation, because my cognitive energy would make that a reality. And they got close, as made evident by the damage on the door, but it was repaired as soon as I regained some of my confidence.

Regardless of what theories you ascribe to, dreams are a fascinating phenomena which have not been fully explained or reasoned out by humanity. There’s some contradiction to trying to reason out something as intangible as Dreamwalking though, like trying to hammer a nail with a pillow, which is why I lean a bit toward the mystic/multi-dimension theories; but maybe, someday, we’ll figure it out a little better. I, for one, am not satisfied with my own level of knowledge and understanding of this vast universe we all retreat to most every time we fall asleep. I would love to hear some other people’s experiences and thoughts on this.

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