The Road Never Traveled

Being pulled from the lucid dream by a sound in the room, I was saved from the fall to the ground. My journey through the German countryside, which as I recall was a backdrop for a music video that I was physically an observer of. My brother and his band played some sort of collection while the somewhat psychedelic storyline taking place throughout the German foothills played on the screen, but in and out of watching, I was a part of the production, which became reality for periods. I was the silent one that was only allowed to watch as I followed the three or four travelers go about. There was a narrative I cannot remember. Distant steam ships on the horizon. We encountered Generals from a different time. Perhaps it was from the turn of the 19th century? I was neither here, nor there. The sounds that surround here in my basement played parts in the visuals of the dream, but I cannot say how. I watched the music video with my brother-in-law, the guitarist for the band, and I remember asking him questions about the video: a reality I kept diving into. When allowed to leave–the end of the movie–I was trapped in the Alps. I was bound in the production, now the only reality. My ability to fly alongside a bird that I knew was there because of my action of reaching out to touch feathers of a wing. It was guiding me back home as we made our way off of the ground and into the mountain air. Someone spoke and I fell to the ground. I felt the thud and the rattle of impact. Something in this room alarmed and the shattering scream that I was hearing silenced, and the dream ended. My eyes were open. I was staring into the purple illumination of the television screen on my basement wall.

Dreams are a mysterious wonder. I have been having the most realistic and lucid dreams in recent months. What do they mean? How are they formed with such detail while on autopilot? Maybe all that we are is the dream?

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