pART I
"That’s the life!" I thought to myself in awe of the seashore. With my feet buried in the sand and my body surrendered to a good reclining chair, I devoted myself, body and soul, to the sophisticated art of doing absolutely nothing.
A clear and open sky gave way to a gentle sun that warmed without burning; the tide rose little by little, steadily gaining more and more space over the grains of sand; its revolutions seemed lazy and indifferent to the breeze of fresh air that blew to announce the arrival of twilight.
As a bonus, I still enjoyed the company of a good friend who rested next to me. Free from any other commitment than being there, each of us was enjoying the moment in our own way.
A perfect afternoon, except for some details that the years of training and experience had already taught me to perceive.
First, it was the horizon line that seemed a little further away than it should be, as if it were "stretched out" in a computer program; then, at the top, I was noticing small pulses of amber light that, timid and erratic, propagated through the blue ceiling; finally, and best of all, there was no sign of the chronic back pain that accompanies me in real life.
That’s usually how it works. Some psychedelic distortions get my attention, and then I realize I’m inside a dream. I’ve been carrying this unusual ability since my late teens, and, as ridiculous as it may sound, the truth is that I’ve learned everything by exploring the digital jungle that was the Internet of the '90s.
Lucid dreams - as they are often called - open the doors to a fantastic world where magic is at the service of willpower: fly through space; breathe into the water; walk through walls; anything is possible...
For me, however, the most interesting "power" of all is also one of the most discreet: the power to face the dream itself and dialogue with it, or in other words, the possibility to converse with your own subconscious! And of course, that psychedelic beach had everything to be another big chance.
“This is going to be a beautiful sunset, but it’s more likely we’re just drooling in the middle of the night... You know this is a dream, don’t you?” I asked, curious to know how my subconscious would answer.
“A dream? I believe we can see it that way... but if so, I have to warn you that it’s not you who’s dreaming about me” my colleague replied.
Rather intrigued, I turned towards him, only to discover that I had been talking to a lizard all this time — a lizard the size of a Dobermann!
I had been taken by surprise. Not so much for the reptile itself, but mainly for the fact that in twenty years of lucid dreams, no one had ever told me, in a dream, that the dream was not mine.
Before I could elaborate further on what had just happened, my curious friend got ahead of me. He turned his gaze towards the horizon and, while contemplating the vast ocean, asked:
“Tell me, what do you feel here?”
Now, in addition to the initial shock, I was also confused. This did not seem to be an ordinary question, but rather an existential one. Those are the kind that should lead us to think about life and to give a meaningful answer, something for which, by the way, I was completely unprepared.
“Don’t you know what to say? Maybe it’s because you haven’t really felt anything yet,” the lizard said, and then shut up for good.
The silence seemed like a cue for me to think about the question. I decided to look back at the horizon to find an answer. To help in the effort, I began to control the intervals of my own breathing, trying to slow down the mind and sharpen the sensitivity.
The technique didn’t take long to work. Calmer, I began to connect with nature, which seemed to communicate with me through all the senses: in the delicate contrast colored by the descending sun; in the natural percussion of the crashing waves; on the soft sand heating the feet; and even in the cool breeze that carried the smell of the sea.
I was gradually getting lost in these feelings… until it happened. I don’t know how long it took, but I eventually realized I was in a deep state of peace and harmony, two things I haven’t felt in a long, long time. Anyway, I thought I was ready to answer:
“Wow, it’s like my void is finally filled, I could stay here forever.”
The lizard showed a twinge of pity for the answer, and obeying the slow pace of our conversation, remained silent. He looked up for a moment, and then he said to me, as if he could see straight into my soul:
“I’m sorry, my friend, but the relief can never be an end, it is only a means.”
The words were few, but they sure meant a lot. This is common in lucid dreams, where speech can transmit, in addition to sound, several blocks of images and feelings that greatly facilitate its understanding.
Compassion... that’s what my friend was feeling. In his eyes, my attachment to the sensation of fulfillment did not reflect the behavior of someone who was satiated, but rather that of someone who never ceased to starve. He was making it clear that I had not yet reached the final answer, and that I could go much further.
Of course, understanding the situation is one thing, but knowing what to do with it is another, and the truth is I had no idea how to proceed.
It was then that a mother and a child passed by us, laughing and jumping as they ran towards the water, in a scene so spontaneous that it filled me with joy. It was at that moment that I realized the beach was full of other people, and suddenly I clicked.
“How could I’ve completely ignored all these people so far?” I asked myself out loud.
My lizard friend smiled in approval, or so it seemed. His eyes were indicating that I had finally taken a step in the right direction. Inspired by the insight, I had the idea to close my eyes and focus on the voices around me.
At first it was strange, but the more I devoted myself, the greater the variety of people I could distinguish. It was not possible to understand any particular conversation, but all of them, together and shuffled, seemed to declare the same truth: "We are here, and we are happy".
By the time I finally opened my eyes, the day was almost over. The atmosphere was getting cooler and cooler, the sky featured the typical warm colors, and everyone was settling in to watch the sunset.
Curious, I observed that as soon as they settled down, as if inspired by the Great Star, the people there adopted increasingly calm and concentrated postures. It was incredible, but even the children seemed to reveal, behind the appearance of simple bathers, the countenance of great meditators.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening, and eventually also got inspired, either by the natural spectacle or by the human spectacle - if the two could be separated at all. The time that remained was little, but its passing did not generate attachments. In fact, the more time went by, the more the phenomenon intensified.
And as soon as the blazing sphere touched the water mirror, the warmth of an ancient longing swiftly advanced through the beach, embracing all of us at once. Suddenly, without any warning, it became obvious: at that moment we were all as one.
It’s hard to explain, but it’s like we shared the same feelings, and every single one of us felt all of them at the same time. We thanked each other, not by speech, but rather in the invisible bonds of complicity. It was certain that we were uplifting one another, and that together we came to a state of fulfillment that none of us would have attained alone.
The sensation was so intense that it seemed to tear open my chest, recovering spaces long abandoned and filling them with new breaths of life. I transmitted well-being to everyone, as everyone did to me. At that moment, my old and known void was not only filled - it was profusely overflowing.
“I’ve just realized that my emptiness is not a hole…” I shared.
My friend looked very carefully, with as much attention as a lizard’s gaze can express.
“Yes, you are right. But if it’s not a hole, then what would it be?”
“It looks more like a fountain… one that until recently was all dry and empty.”
The lizard sharpened his look even more. Even if he didn’t show it, I felt his presence and his expectation growing, as if we were about to get where he wanted.
“Excellent, my friend. And now that you’ve understood that, tell me why the relief of filling that fountain can’t be an end by itself?”
It was then that, surprised at myself, I knew exactly what to say:
“Because a filled fountain is only halfway to a fountain that flows.”
The reply was accepted with satisfaction; Nothing else needed to be said. The lizard now seemed pleased and relieved, maybe even a little proud. Together, we happily embraced the domain of silence, enjoying the few minutes of sunshine that remained.
It was only when the last beam of light left the shore that the lizard spoke again:
“All right, I think you’re now ready.”
“Ready for what?” I curiously asked.
“Ready to wake up, my friend!”
And just like that I woke up! Not to reality, in this case, but from a good night’s sleep. The bed accommodated me softly and my lazy eyes had no intention of opening. Following an old habit, I contorted my body sideways, craving for that “clack” at the end of the spine - the hallmark of all my mornings.
I could have even gone back to sleep, but I noticed that I didn’t quite remember the day before, or even worse, I didn’t even remember having gone to sleep. Stunned, I felt the memory of the psychedelic dream fading, giving way to a sudden and worrying realization: I wasn’t on my own bed!
