Lucid Dream

While I was camping, I had a dream.

I'm going to assume that somehow I got a little tangled up in my sleeping bag, because, in the dream, I had fallen down a very deep hole. I was telling someone the story about how I had fallen down the hole and at the same time physically falling down through the hole. The hole got narrower and narrower, until I was wedged between the moist, earthy, vertical sides. (It's possible that I've been reading too much A. A. Milne -- In Which Pooh Goes Visiting and Gets into a Tight Place.) At least I was head up, and not head down; but I was very far down, it was dark, my hands were digging into the earth in an attempt to arrest my descent, the hole warm-bordering-on-smothering, and I could feel claustrophobia clutching at my throat.

I said to myself. "I'm not going to take the story there [where I'm trapped in a crack under the earth]. And so I call upon the Sun and the Moon, and Mercury, Venus, Mars, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and Saturn and Jupiter, too!" At which point I flew out into the heavens and the dream turned into a magical flying dream with stars and glowing waves of cosmic purple light.

I guess there's something to be said for coastal forest air; I haven't had a lucid dream like that in decades.

(And yes, in the dream I was aware that I had initially left out some of the planets, but I think it's pretty cool that I could remember all nine of their names in a dream).