Tag: Roadblocks

Which Mind Knows Best?


Most of us have probably seen them by this point, the lists and summaries out there of all the incredible mentally (and sometimes physically) beneficial things one can do in a lucid dream. Some of the highlights include:

  • Adventure and Fantasy
  • Overcoming Nightmares
  • Rehearsal
  • Creativity and Problem Solving
  • Healing (Physical and Emotional)
  • Spiritual Insight and Transcendance

I’ve written before on how appealing this can be to someone at a low point in life, and in interviews since, I’ve been increasingly open about the fact that this was what drew me to lucid dreaming. Obviously, the first step towards having these incredible experiences is to start becoming lucid in your dreams. What follows for many people in those early stages are dreams in which you know you are dreaming, but may find yourself in rather mundane environments unable to exert much control over the dream or over yourself within the dream. You may not even catch a glimpse of the relevant people, places, or things you were hoping to interact with.

This is all perfectly normal by the way. It seems to be part of the process for most of us. As you continue having lucid dreams, dream control and self-control within dreams can be developed. Experimenting with dream incubation or learning how to have WILDs can also help you find yourself in the desired environments and situations you feel are best for accomplishing your lucid dream goals.

I’ve been at this a little while, and I feel I’ve experienced and thought enough about lucid dreaming to at least overcome my imposter syndrome to blog and speak on the topic. So it’s second nature for me to have lucid dreams about the things I want to dream about on a regular basis right? Well… no.

My dream control has steadily improved over the years, but I don’t think I’m a very good dream incubator. I have a tendency to lay in bed too uptight about it. I will wake up in the middle of the night, create an elaborate plan for what I want to dream about and what I want to occur, and get so serious and determined about it that I can’t fall back asleep. Clearly, I need to cultivate a different kind of relationship with effort moving forward. I will definitely continue working on that, but I’ve discovered a kind of non-approach in the meantime that has proved paradoxically effective.

Initially, the mind’s habit of creating dreams for us that bear little resemblance to what we actually want to be doing in our lucid dreams is an irritating obstacle to be overcome. However, as you become more familiar with the contents of your own mind and a more adept lucid dreamer, you may have lucid and non-lucid dreams where the unconscious mind seems like it has a better sense of what you need than the conscious planning mind does. Two examples in particular come to mind from my recent dreams.

Given the unplanned, improvised nature of these examples, it’s hard to say what prompts these lucid dreams or makes them possible. My best guess is it’s primarily a matter of being in touch with one’s self. Yoga, meditation, and other contemplative practices can help in that respect.  Lucid dreaming itself can also help expand self-knowledge and self-attunement. Perhaps the act of having a lucid dream itself develops certain mental “muscles,” creating a positive feedback loop where the moments of lucidity you have now help to develop the “muscles” required to have the lucid dreams you need in the future.

My Literal Worst Nightmare

Last December, I had a dream so bad that the sheer volume of all the awful things that happened in it verges on comical. Let’s run through some of them:

  1. A painful overdose on junk food.
  2. The death and funeral of a family member.
  3. The last people I would ever want to see showed up for the funeral.
  4. I felt guilty about my efforts to avoid those people being more important to me than grieving and paying my respects.
  5. I was naked and going to the bathroom in front of people.
  6. While still on the toilet, my Dad confronted me with his suspicions that I’ve got a cocaine problem.
  7. The deceased family member rose from the dead to call me a failure to my face… I was still on the toilet of course.
  8. Instead of serving as a sign I was dreaming, seeing the dead person made me think I was having a psychotic break.

The list actually continues, but you get the idea. Also, I don’t have a cocaine problem, not in waking life at least. The dream was bad. It felt bad, and when I shot awake in bed at 5:00 AM in the morning, I kept on feeling bad. Compounding everything, it was a Wednesday morning and I had work in a few hours. With no grand plan or vision of how I would have preferred things to go in that dream, I tried to fall back asleep. I tried to focus on physical relaxation and to stay with the emotions I was feeling as best I could without getting wrapped up in the storyline I’d just experienced or what it all might mean.

Against all odds, not only was I able to fall back asleep, I had a lucid dream that felt like the polar opposite of the nightmare I’d just experienced: I ate nourishing food, I had constructive conversations with my parents about what was bothering me in the last dream, I flew through the sky and basked in the rising sun before waking up. Needless to say, I had a pretty great Wednesday after waking up.

What I’m trying to get across by sharing this is that miraculously instant relief from all the negativity dredged up by that nightmare was accessible without the need for focused dream incubation or consciously scripting out what I would have done differently had I been lucid in that nightmare. If I was a skillful dream incubator, I’m sure doing those things would also have helped, but don’t underestimate the momentum of diligent day-time mindfulness practice and the ingenuity of the unconscious dreaming mind either. I have another example to illustrate this as well.

Changing the Mind’s Broken Record

Last month the sheer scope of all the projects I was involved in and committed to started to really weigh on me. The real flashpoint was getting dinner and drinks with some friends after hearing the introductory pitch of yet another organization I was considering joining. It was just too much.  Working with this group was absolutely something I was interested in doing, but how could I ever make all the pieces fit with the rest of my life? Panic and shortness of breath started to creep in. I did what I think was a smart thing by letting my friends know what was going on for me in that moment and laughing about it with them. I still went to bed a bit anxious and with no clue what I was going to do or if I could make it all work. Lucid dreaming was not top of mind, let alone what I would want to dream about.

And yet, again, the momentum of being a diligent dream journaler and meditator must have taken over because I found myself lucid floating through the hallways of my office building. Jesus Christ, what is that awful, tense music playing? It sounds like the shit that would play while James Bond shoots people and leaps off a nuclear warhead-equipped train. Fuuuuuuuck that, no wonder I’m so anxious. I’m changing the song. What’s the most soothing thing I can think of?


The pot lights in the ceiling swell and fade green to the beat.

It’s been a month and a half since that dream. My schedule is probably still overstuffed, and all the activities in my life still don’t quite fit together. The anxiety surrounding these issues however, remains drastically reduced. Without any planning, and in a rather instinctual and spontaneous way, my dreaming mind again seemed to know what I needed better than my conscious mind did.

Mid-August Update



I apologize for the recent lack of updates here. There are two culprits: one good, the other kind of meh.

I’ll start with the positive: the lucid dream seminar I hosted at Float Stress Relief and Wellness Centre was a big success, so much so that we’ve been hard at work to make it a monthly event. I had a chat with Jon, the owner, this afternoon and you can expect to hear something soon about a September session. Between this, the Blue Jays, and our former deputy mayor ascending to demi-god status on Twitter, it’s not a bad time to live in Toronto.

The work involved in putting together these seminars is one reason I haven’t been writing much, the other is that I’ve been in a bit of a lucid dreaming rut. Technically I’m still having lucid dreams, four so far this month in fact, but the lucidity is so fleeting, and my presence of mind so poor, that nothing happens. Moments after I realize I’m dreaming, I forget.

It’s a good reminder that there’s more to being a good lucid dreamer than getting lucid. Once that skill is developed enough, it’s not a bad idea to work on staying lucid and some degree of dream control. It can be a bit like powerlifting. Someone might be able to deadlift 300 pounds, but if their form and technique is atrocious, there might not be much benefit to it.

Similarly, some goof on the internet might have four lucid dreams in fifteen days. However, if his concentration and mental stability are lacking in those dreams, there may be some trickling benefit, but nothing like the peak experiences most of us are after.

Last night was a bit of a breakthrough in this regard. I got lucid, stayed lucid, and tracked somebody down in there I’d been meaning to for awhile. The beginning of a hot streak perhaps?

The Transformative Power of “Irrelevant” Lucid Dreams


This is a very positive addendum to my first post on trying to address an issue in your life through lucid dreaming without having much luck. Turns out, you may be addressing your issue even if your lucid dreams are brief and revolve entirely around unrelated events and activities.

Lucid Dreaming as a Mindfulness Practice

Time and again as my knowledge of lucid dreaming has deepened, I’ve been struck by the similarity of the changes that occur in lucid dreamers and the changes that occur in meditators.  This has come up in scientific research, academic theorizing, and the accumulated knowledge of spiritual traditions.

My working hypothesis is that lucid dreaming and meditation make use of the same cognitive capacities in similar, if not nearly identical, ways. I’ve had a lot of success exploring the application of any insights I have about meditation to my lucid dreaming practice.

With this in mind, I invite you to watch this video of American meditation teacher Shinzen Young (embedding the video has been disabled). To summarize, Shinzen makes the case that deep, positive transformation can occur through meditation without the surface-level (or ego-level) of the mind having any idea of what’s taking place. In spite of the mixed metaphors, this is a powerful quote from the video:

We shine the flashlight of mindfulness on the surface of sensory experience, and a certain number of photons go down to the very bottom of the lake and give the circuits down there what they need to rewire themselves with the surface either knowing very little or, often, knowing nothing of the rewiring process.

Shinzen gives an example from his own life of feeling slight discomfort in his lungs during a 10-day meditation retreat, but not thinking much of it. Upon returning home from the retreat, he found himself with no desire to smoke weed, despite having smoked up every day for the past 10 years. I’m assuming he’s not including the days he spent on meditation retreats, but who knows. Growing up in Scarborough, I learned that sneaking weed into places is as much an artform as calligraphy and watercolour painting.

In any case, that is a remarkable account of transformation and it immediately got me thinking about lucid dreaming and dream incubation.

“Irrelevant” Dreams

Dream incubation is the art of mental rehearsing the dreams you’d like to have while you’re still awake in an attempt to dream about something specific that night. Dreams that successfully incorporate the incubated material can be either lucid or non-lucid. Dream incubation is often encouraged in lucid dreaming communities since it can be easier to become lucid if a person has something specific they would like to do in their lucid dreams. 

In my first post I explored why sometimes we have the lucid dreams we incubate, while other times we don’t. I spoke from personal experience; I am considerably better at becoming lucid in a dream than I am at having the content I tried to incubate show up in my dreams. Even if we succeed in getting lucid and find ourselves in the desired set of circumstances, the dream doesn’t always go according to plan. For the longest time, I would wake up pleased at having become lucid, but somewhat disappointed that the dreams I had were “irrelevant” to my goals or concerns, assuming that I had made no progress with them. What a relief to find out that there’s a good chance this attitude is unwarranted.

For example, let’s say I want to use lucid dreaming to work through the hurt and embarrassment of losing my job. Every night for a week, as an incubation technique I write in my dream journal “tonight I will become lucid and have a conversation with my former co-workers.” That week I have two lucid dreams, each of them irrelevant to the goal I had. During the first dream I walk through walls knowing that they aren’t real. During the second dream, I take a bath and marvel at the feeling of dream water. In both cases I wake up pleased that I got lucid and did fun things, but also a little disappointed that I didn’t remember to talk to my former co-workers and directly address the primary source of pain in my waking life.

If we take Shinzen’s paradigm of deep unconscious transformation seriously and apply it to lucid dreaming, I may have actually been making progress on coming to grips with the loss of my job through those lucid dreams even though the subject matter seems irrelevant. Upon viewing Shinzen’s video, my friend Wil had a great analogy. Perhaps the time spent lucid in a dream itself has a positive impact on psycho-spiritual development that is not dependent on the content of the dream or the activities undertaken while lucid. Wil pointed out that runners train in high altitudes to expand their blood oxygen capacity so they are more effective running at normal altitudes. Lucid dreams can be understood as high awareness environments: a high degree of awareness is needed to become lucid, and a high degree of awareness is needed to stay lucid. Certainly, specific “training excercizes” performed in the lucid dream state can expand consciousness in direct and focused ways, but we shouldn’t discount the benefits of just becoming and staying lucid for a bit.

The two “irrelevant” lucid dreams may help me get through the loss of my job because they have increased my capacity to bring awareness to any situation.

How Do You Know Any of This Is Happening?

I don’t. Shinzen came up with his paradigm of transformation through observation of “significant, permanent, positive changes in perception and behaviour” after his meditation retreats. It is a hypothesis, an informed guess at explaining noticeable shifts his life.

I would also add that just being open to the possibility can be of positive benefit to lucid dreamers struggling to address specific aspects of their lives. In my first post, I warned of possible stumbling blocks when trying to address a pressing issue through lucid dreaming: “Too much pressure when we’re in bed, and we’ll be lucky to fall asleep at all. If we do somehow manage to sleep and dream under that kind of pressure, a tidal wave of disappointment awaits in the morning if the dreams don’t go exactly as planned.” Knowing that even seemingly irrelevant lucid dreams may be providing fuel for transcending this issue in the form of greater awareness can really help take the pressure off and curb some of the potential disappointment.

The Dog and The Pool

The example I gave above about job loss was hypothetical, but I’ll share an interesting experience I actually had as well. The morning of February 3, 2015, after some non-lucid scenes, I dreamt the following:

As I walk to the traffic lights by the street I grew up on, there is a huge, almost horse-sized dog prowling the school yard across the street. It notices me and bolts across the street. I’m alert, but calm. The dog just sniffs me and walks beside me. The calmer I get, the smaller the dog becomes until it is the size of a rat. Wait, this is how fear behaves in a dream… I’m dreaming. I actually want the dog to get bigger again to fight a bear in the Westbound left-hand turn lane, but the bear just vanishes. There is no need for conflict.  

I have no fear of dogs (or bears for that matter) that I needed to get over. The dog incident is reminiscent of something that happened two or three years prior to the dream, but it was just a very minor irritation, nothing traumatic.

In the weeks following this dream I noticed a kind of daredevil energy welling up inside me. Heights, embarassment, danger… they all still scared me, but there was an attractiveness to them now as well. I recall confiding to my uncle that I’d better find a channel for this energy before I did something drastic like enlist for the marines in a fit of thrillseeking.

I eventually settled on confronting something that had been gnawing at me for almost 25 years: my childhood had to be abandoned for awhile for health reasons and could never bring myself to get back into it after that (I would have been a shitty marine). Not a huge deal, but I found my poor swimming skills deeply embarassing. In short order I signed up for adult lessons, thought I would die of embarassment the first night waiting for the little kids to finish up their lessons before mine, and it’s been great since. 

Would I have eventually done something like this anyway if I hadn’t had the dog dream? It’s hard to say. But I do feel comfortable saying that dream changed my relationship to fear in a positive way. Embarassment, like the dog, shrank to a managable size as I was able to face it and stand my ground.

Tired in a Lucid Dream? It Happens.

It’s happened to me twice now. I know I’m dreaming and I go about my lucid dream business when a wave of lethargy hits. A few mornings ago I had just finished jumping, flying, and appreciating the feel of dream wood grain, when I encountered one of those tiny ramps that let you run up walls in Super Mario World. I wanted to use it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even manage to try. In fact, I felt like I needed to sit down and take it easy for a minute.

Wall run--article_image

On a physical level, this makes no sense. I was fast asleep and I knew I was fast asleep. If my physical body was taking it any easier, I’d be dead. Yet, a quick informal survey of my fellow lucid dreamers suggests tiredness in a lucid dream happens from time to time. In most cases, it’s not that hard to deal with. Wil suggests shouting “Clarity now!”, shaking, jumping in place, or even singing to get ourselves back on track. In my case, I recognized the absurdity of being tired while asleep immediately and felt fine after a few moments, though I lost lucidity shortly after and continued to dream unaware of the fact that I was still dreaming.

It’s All In My Head 

If your primary concern is controlling your dreams, or if you have a very specific goal you are trying to accomplish in your lucid dream, then getting tired in the dream state is an irritation and an obstacle to be overcome. It’s good to have techniques in mind to overcome it quickly when there is something pressing you would like to attend to while you are in a lucid dream.

In my case the other morning, I had already done what I wanted to do earlier in the dream and found the experience of tiredness fascinating. To feel lethargic in the mental realm of the lucid dream while the body is resting and recharging made rethink the experience of feeling tired in general. It reminds me a bit of our relationship to food: sometimes we crave food because our body needs the nutrients, while the craving just as often comes from habit, boredom, or an emotional drive.

Some advanced meditators believe that fatigue often has its causes in the mind, and have specific advice for dealing with drowsiness on the meditation cushion. The Venerable Bhante Henepola Gunaratana suggests the following in Mindfulness in Plain English:

When you find [yourself becoming drowsy], apply your mindfulness to the state of drowsiness itself. Drowsiness has certain definite characteristics. It does certain things to your thought process. Find out what. It has certain bodily feelings associated with it. Locate those.

This inquisitive awareness is the direct opposite of drowsiness , and will evaporate it. If it does not, then you should suspect a physical cause of your sleepiness.

While “a physical cause of your sleepiness” needs to be considered during meditation, I think it’s fair to rule out physical causes in a lucid dream.

So What? Who Cares? 

The idea of tiredness as a mental phenomenon is really nothing new or revolutionary. A friend at work pointed out that most of us have experienced slogging through a Friday in the office feeling half dead before driving home full of energy because of our exciting plans for that evening. The change that leads to re-energization in this example is one of mindset and expectation.

It’s not hard to grasp this concept intellectually, but experiencing it in a lucid dream with a bit of awareness is something else entirely. With no experience of my physical body in the lucid dream, I could be positive that the tiredness I was experiencing was a mental phenomenon and, perhaps more importantly, I knew it was no big deal. Having had that experience, I suspect I’ll never experience lethargy in the waking state in quite the same way as before. My hope is having seen through tiredness at it’s most illusory in the dream state, I will be better equipped in my waking life to judge when I am physically tired and legitimately need rest, versus when I am laying prone on the couch because I don’t want to do the dishes.

Bhante Gunaratana

Venerable Bhante Henepola Gunaratana

Your Thoughts

I’d appreciate hearing from you in the comments if you’ve had any experiences of fatigue or lethargy in a lucid dream. Did it totally derail your dream goals or were you able to overcome it? Are there specific techniques you find particularly effective for working through it?

I’d especially love to hear from anyone who noticed differences in their waking life they feel comfortable attributing working through tiredness in a lucid dream.

My Life Is In Shambles, Is This A Good Time To Learn Lucid Dreaming?


It’s easy to see why lucid dreaming can become wildly appealing to someone in crisis. It’s a state in which it’s possible to: speak with lost or estranged loved ones, heal ourselves emotionally and physically, do whatever we want unconstrained by physical laws and social norms, or face down our greatest fears in a safe environment. Antidotes for many strains of human suffering can be found in lucid dreams. When going through hard times, an experienced lucid dreamer can adjust their practice to address whatever issues they are currently facing. Lucid dreams can even assist us in determining what those issues are if this is not clear.

What about someone in crisis who isn’t a very experienced lucid dreamer, or someone who has come across lucid dreaming for the first time as a potential way to work through their suffering? Can hard times be good times to learn lucid dreaming? In most cases, I think they can be. Just keep in mind that there are some obvious, but important, exceptions, as well as some snags that can loom larger during periods of above-average stress or sorrow.

Before anything else, if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts seek professional help immediately. There’s no shame in letting professionals work with us to gain a healthier perspective on our lives and sorrows. Seriously, if this is what you’re dealing with, look into help now. If you are having trouble distinguishing reality from constructions of your imagination then, again, professional help needs to come first. If this is something you have struggled with, any experimentations with lucid dreaming should only be attempted after being cleared with a mental health professional.

Apart from those particular situations, developing a lucid dreaming practice in response to hard times is often a far better alternative to hitting the bottle or getting stoned regularly. It may seem like escapism to pay so much attention to dreams (literal figments of our imaginations), but I would argue otherwise. Having lucid dreams requires a familiarity with our minds, especially our habits of perception. Learning how to lucid dream cultivates a familiarity with who we are and how we work at some very basic levels. This kind of inner work is the opposite of escapism; we end up getting reacquainted with ourselves.

It can also be incredibly empowering to know that there is a learnable skill that offers the possibility of relating to grief, sorrow, and anger in more fruitful and creative ways. This was the main appeal of lucid dreaming for me when I started: that I didn’t have to sit around and be a victim of my own sadness, there were steps I could take to improve my own inner experience. I became driven to make the positive changes to my life and shifts in attitude necessary to be a proficient lucid dreamer because of the potential to confront and untangle my dissatisfactions at a very deep level.

Strong motivation is good, because developing the capacity to become aware in our dreams can require a lot: patience, dedication, some background knowledge, and the right attitude. All of this hard work can seem like an insurmountable barrier when all we are looking for is some closure, but think about how important that list of qualities is in every aspect of life. Putting the work in and cultivating these qualities within ourselves often starts the healing process before we have even a single lucid dream. In Exploring The World of Lucid Dreaming, Stephen LaBerge defines health as “a condition of adaptive responsiveness to the challenges of life.” Simply cultivating greater awareness and performing reality checks with lucid dreaming in mind on a regular basis can greatly expand our capacity for adaptive response well before the lucid dreams start flowing.

Just be wary of these potential sandtraps when trying to have lucid dreams during life’s rough patches:

Relax, Your Future Happiness Is Not Entirely Dependent On You Getting Lucid Tonight

The potential pitfall of taking lucid dreaming seriously as a tool for overcoming difficulties in our lives is putting way too much pressure on ourselves to pull it off. Too much pressure when we’re in bed, and we’ll be lucky to fall asleep at all. If we do somehow manage to sleep and dream under that kind of pressure, a tidal wave of disappointment awaits in the morning if the dreams don’t go exactly as planned. Take it from someone who has been through the insomnia and the mopey mornings, neither are productive.

With a healthier attitude, the potential disappointments of not getting lucid, or getting lucid but the dream not going according to plan will not overshadow the potential for immense healing through lucid dreaming. There is a saying that I like, commonly attributed to Zen monk Suzuki Roshi:

“Enlightenment is an accident. Spiritual Practice simply makes us accident prone.”

While there are plenty of stories to be found of people who heal themselves of something after just one relevant lucid dream, it’s going to take more than that in some cases. It’s best to think of healing lucid dreams as happy accidents, and all the work we put into having them as the process of making ourselves accident prone. Putting work into your lucid dreaming practice is never a waste of time, but there are no guarantees as to when you finally trip over the exposed root of your own wisdom. There comes a point every night where the best thing to do is to let it all go and fall asleep.

What Are We Really Trying to Accomplish Through Our Lucid Dreams?

It could be that some people have the kinds of healing dreams they are incubating more quickly than others because they begin with a clearer understanding of their underlying issue. Let’s say I’m hurt and embarrassed because I just lost a job I enjoyed. Incubating lucid dreams where I can work to uncover the underlying reasons for my job loss, or work through my feelings towards it is more likely to be fruitful than trying to have a lucid dream that shows me exactly what I need to do to get my job back. That latter may be possible and worth trying in some rare cases, but would likely be dependent on both your conscious and unconscious minds being in agreement that you truly need that job back.

Disharmony between the conscious and unconscious mind on the major issues of our lives is not uncommon. Bringing them into harmony is often the exact kind of healing we need. For example, let’s say I was dismissed from this job unfairly. On a conscious level, I could want the job back because of my comfort with it, its familiarity, and the material security it brought. However, on an unconscious level, I may recognize how poorly I was treated  and have serious doubts about my ability to be content working for those same people again.

It is hard to imagine my unconscious mind constructing my dreams in ways that will encourage me to get my job back under these circumstances. That deeper part of me feels strongly that getting the job back isn’t what I need. What would be possible though, are dreams on this subject that unfold in ways that reveals to me how much better off I am moving on. They could even provide ideas for a future career. Dreams along these lines could facilitate greater harmony between my conscious and unconscious mind, whether they’re lucid or not.