When Karen told me how to become lucid in a dream by leaving a notebook by my bed, I asked why someone would want to modify dreams, but placed the hand-bound notebook Isa made me on my nightlight.
Frying small drips of pancake batter in butter. My uncle and the color purple.
I recognized the long hallway of the science museum from childhood trips with my grandmother. But I was alone now, waiting in a big group for the demonstration to start. A few random volunteers got brief instructions from the teacher, then performed a flawless and complexly choreographed dance that lasted a couple minutes. Now everyone wants to be a volunteer. I approach the front, sensing the crowd trying to see what secret instructions our teacher will give us. I eagerly sidle up to the teacher, who is at the sink, bustling around and not quite ready to start talking with us. I say I think I know her trick! The dance has ‘cellular automaton’ rules! Rules so simple each person can learn them quickly, but beautifully complex together!
I wake up to her obvious disappointment. If I have this dream lucidly, I won’t do that. I want to hear her actual instructions, and participate in her game.