Lucid Dreaming Part 5

Row, row, row your boat Gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.

Still flying high over the meadow, I made a second eye-movement signal and began to count slowly to ten. Upon finis.h.i.+ng, I made a third eye-movement signal marking the completion of this experimental task. I was overjoyed at my success and turned a virtual cartwheel in midair. After a few seconds, the dream faded.

We had recorded brain waves from my left and right cerebral hemispheres so that the amounts of alpha activity during the two tasks could be calculated by a computer. Rhythmic alpha waves are generally interpreted as the indication of a resting or inactive brain. So, if during the performance of a given task one of the hemispheres is doing most of the work, the other hemisphere-the less active one-will show more alpha activity. Since the right hemisphere is involved during the singing and the left hemisphere during the counting, we expected to find more alpha in my left hemisphere during singing. And this is exactly what we found. Repet.i.tion of this experiment with two other subjects yielded consistent results: the brain seemed to show the same patterns of selective activation during singing and counting during REM sleep as it did during wakefulness.

s.e.xual Activity

s.e.xual activity seems to form a prominent part of the lucid dreams of many individuals, especially women. Patricia Garfield reported that two-thirds of her lucid dreams have s.e.xual content and about half of these dreams culminate in o.r.g.a.s.m. In Pathway to Ecstasy, Garfield describes her lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.ms as being of "profound" intensity. "With a totality of self that is only sometimes felt in the waking state," she found herself "bursting into soul- and body-shaking explosions."

These are incredibly impressive experiences, to say the least. However, the lucid dream reports of several of our female oneironauts contained similar accounts. I was intrigued by the possibility of an experiment to determine whether or not s.e.xual activity in lucid dreams is accompanied by physiological changes similar to those that take place during waking s.e.xual activities.5

Walter Greenleaf, a Stanford graduate student engaged in psychophysiological research on human s.e.xual response, collaborated with me on several experiments. We decided to work with women at first, since they reported o.r.g.a.s.m in lucid dreams much more frequently than men. I asked several of our female oneironauts if they would be willing to try, and "Miranda" was the first to succeed. She spent a night sleeping in our laboratory while we recorded sixteen channels of physiological data, including the usual EEG, EOG, and EMG, as well as respiration rate, heart rate, v.a.g.i.n.al EMG, and v.a.g.i.n.al pulse amplitude. These last two measures were obtained from a comfortable v.a.g.i.n.al probe (inserted in privacy) that was worn while sleeping. The probe registered v.a.g.i.n.al muscle activity by means of two electrodes on its surface. Pulse amplitude, a measure of blood flow to the v.a.g.i.n.al walls, was obtained by means of an infrared light source and photocell detector embedded in the surface of the probe. Light emitted from the probe is reflected back to the photocell to an extent that varies with changes in the amount of blood flowing to the v.a.g.i.n.al walls. Experiments in the waking state had clearly demonstrated that when women become s.e.xually aroused, their v.a.g.i.n.al pulse amplitude shows a significant increase. Thus we antic.i.p.ated finding similar increases coupled with s.e.xual activity during lucid dreams.

We asked Miranda to signal four times in her lucid dream, using standard eye-movement signals. The first signal was to be at the moment she realized that she was dreaming; the second when she began s.e.xual activity in her dream; the third when she experienced o.r.g.a.s.m; and the fourth only when she felt herself to have awakened.

At about five minutes into her fifth REM period of the night, Miranda had a three-minute lucid dream in which she successfully carried out the experimental task-exactly as agreed upon. In her report, she said that she seemed to be lying in bed still awake, with someone's hands rubbing her neck. Recognizing the improbability of someone being in her room, she suspected she was dreaming, and tested her state by flying to float into the air. As soon as she found herself floating, she was convinced she was dreaming and made the agreed-upon signal as she floated through her bedroom wall. Finding no one in the polygraph room, she proceeded through an unopened window outside. Continuing to fly, she found herself over a campus resembling both Oxford and Stanford. She flew through the cool evening air, free as a cloud, stopping now and then to admire the beautiful stone carvings on the walls. After a few minutes, however, she decided it was time to begin the experiment. Flying through an archway, she spotted a group of people-apparently visitors touring the campus. Swooping down to the group, she picked the first man within reach. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he came toward her as if knowing exactly what he was expected to do. At this she signaled again, marking the beginning of s.e.xual activity. She says that she must have already been excited from the flying, because after only fifteen seconds she felt as if she were about to climax. She signaled a third time, marking her experience of o.r.g.a.s.m as the final waves began to die down. Shortly after this she let herself wake up, and signaled, according to plan, as soon as she felt herself back in bed. She said the dream o.r.g.a.s.m had been neither long nor intense, but was quite definitely a real o.r.g.a.s.m.

The graph of v.a.g.i.n.al blood flow during the several minutes of her lucid dream appears to correspond in every particular with Miranda's report of her lucid dream. During the portion of dreamed s.e.xual activity, between her second and third signal, her respiration rate, v.a.g.i.n.al muscle activity, and v.a.g.i.n.al blood flow all reached their highest levels of the night. However, her heart showed only a moderate increase in rate. The increases in respiration rate and v.a.g.i.n.al blood flow are fully comparable to those typically observed during waking o.r.g.a.s.m-and the lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.m was described as being "not very strong"! This experiment provided the first objective evidence for the validity of Miranda's reports (and, by extension, those of others) of vividly realistic s.e.x in lucid dreams.

Before leaving Miranda's lucid dream, I would like to mention the fact that at least a part of it would have undoubtedly delighted Freud, had he lived another half-century to hear it. I am speaking of the flying, which seemed to have served as very effective foreplay, considering the remarkably short interval between the start of s.e.x and o.r.g.a.s.mic culmination. What is the meaning of flying dreams? Freud's unhesitating answer to this question was that flying in dreams symbolically expresses nothing other than the desire to engage in s.e.xual activity! For once, this interpretation seems to fit the dream without forcing.

Having recorded an impressive female s.e.xual response, we next wondered what males might show. Although males report o.r.g.a.s.mic lucid dreams less frequently than females do, we decided to try the experiment anyway. "Randy," a first-rate oneironaut, volunteered for this perilous mission.

While Randy slept, we recorded the same physiological measures as we had done in Miranda's experiment, with the exception that we equipped him with a penile strain gauge (a loop of flexible tubing filled with mercury, about an inch in diameter)-the device generally used for measuring s.e.xual response. Just before going to sleep, Randy put the strain gauge around the base of his p.e.n.i.s. As the strain gauge expands during erection, its electrical resistance increases, allowing polygraphic monitoring of penile tumescence (enlargement). Although REM periods are normally a.s.sociated with spontaneous erections of varying degrees, we hoped to observe a further increase during dreamed s.e.xual activity.

Randy agreed to follow the same signaling procedure as Miranda had. After a few nights' practice, he succeeded perfectly. Awakening from his fourth REM period of the night, he made the following report:

A bizarre detail made me realize that I was dreaming. I made an eye-movement signal, then proceeded through the roof, flying Superman-style. Having landed in the backyard of a house, I wished for a girl. A cute little teenager walked out of the patio door, followed closely by her mother. For some reason, the mother seemed to know me, and with a wink sent her daughter out to play with me. We went in the backyard, and I signaled the beginning of foreplay. An instant later her blouse was on the ground and the nipples of her blossoming b.r.e.a.s.t.s stood out. She kneeled on the ground and began to kiss me in a most stimulating manner. I felt myself about to climax and closed my eyes in ecstasy as I had the o.r.g.a.s.m, and again signaled. When I opened my eyes, I seemed to have awakened from a wet dream. I was very excited at the accomplishment of my experiment, then I realized it was only a false awakening, and at this I actually awoke. Although I found I had not actually e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, I still felt the tingling in my spine and I marveled at the reality that the mind could create.

As in Miranda's case, Randy's polygraph record revealed a precise correspondence with his lucid dream report. During the thirty seconds of s.e.xual activity marked by his second and third signals, his respiration rate reached its maximum for the REM periods, exactly as it had for Miranda. His penile strain gauge indicated that his erection, after having begun shortly before the onset of the REM period, only reached its maximal level between signals two and three. Remarkably, a slow detumescence began almost immediately following the dream o.r.g.a.s.m.

Randy's heart, like Miranda's, showed only a moderate increase in rate during the lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.m. In general terms, these o.r.g.a.s.ms seemed to trigger very similar physiological responses in their sleeping bodies. This was especially true of the dramatic increases in respiration rate shown by both. An important implication is that in some respects, lucid dream s.e.x has as powerful an impact on the dreamer's body as the real thing.

The extent to which this is true may vary from dreamer to dreamer, and from one s.e.x to the other. One significant gender-related difference may be that while Miranda experienced v.a.g.i.n.al muscle contractions during lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.m, Randy apparently did not experience corresponding pelvic muscle contractions. Randy's failure to actually e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e in his dream, in spite of having vividly experienced the sensations of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, is consistent with my own experience in this regard. Among the nearly nine hundred lucid dream reports in my personal record are about a dozen instances in which I dreamed that I reached o.r.g.a.s.m. In all of these cases, the sensation of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n was convincingly vivid, so much so that these lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.ms were usually followed by false awakenings in which I dreamed that I had in fact had a wet dream. Yet as soon as I awoke in actuality, I always discovered that I was mistaken.

Insofar as all this proves typical of lucid dream s.e.x, it would seem that the wet dreams experienced by adolescents and other males lacking regular s.e.xual outlet result from very different causes. As it happens, the reports of genuine wet dreams are sometimes completely devoid of any s.e.xual or erotic elements whatsoever. Since, at the same time, every dream period is accompanied by spontaneous erections, wet dreams may result from genital stimulation and reflex e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

Although nonerotic wet dreams do occur, they are not the usual case. Why, then, do most wet dreams take on the guise of a s.e.xual encounter? I would propose that these experiences result from the dream's incorporation of sensory information coming from the genitals, naturally elaborated into a "likely story" explaining the experienced s.e.xual arousal. Following this line of reasoning, wet dreams would be the result of actual erotic sensations accurately interpreted by the dreaming brain. In other words, first comes the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, then comes the wet dream.

Apparently, the opposite normally holds for lucid dream o.r.g.a.s.ms. The erotic dream comes first, resulting in o.r.g.a.s.m "in the brain." However, in this case, the resulting impulses descending from the brain to the genitals are evidently too inhibited to trigger the genital ejaculatory reflex. So, lucid dreams are only wet in the dream.

Because our data are derived from only one observation of two subjects, caution in interpreting these preliminary results is obviously necessary. However, I am willing to risk the conclusion that s.e.xual activity and the experience of o.r.g.a.s.m in lucid dreams appears to be a.s.sociated with physiological changes that are very similar to those occurring during corresponding activities in the waking state.

An important exception to this conclusion is the fact that only very slight increases in heart rate accompanied the s.e.xual activity in these lucid dreams. During waking s.e.xual activity, heart rate may double or triple. This fact may have a practical benefit. For patients recovering from heart disease, s.e.x can be a dangerous and sometimes fatal form of exercise. Dream s.e.x, in contrast, appears to be completely safe for everyone, and for many paralyzed people, it may be the only form of s.e.xual release available.

Significance

We have seen that dream s.e.x is like "real" s.e.x, dream singing and counting is like "real" singing and counting, and dream time is like "real" time. So what? You may be wondering what difference this all makes to you. These results have implications of considerable importance for every dreamer; let me explain how.

In the singing and counting experiment, we asked our subjects to do two things as controls. One was to actually do the tasks while awake, and the other was merely to imagine doing them. When we looked at imagined singing and counting we found that neither task produced any consistent s.h.i.+fts in brain activity. But singing and counting in the lucid dream produced large s.h.i.+fts equivalent to those that occurred during the actual performance of the tasks. This suggests that lucid dreaming (and by extension, dreaming in general) is more like actually doing than like merely imagining.

According to a theory widely accepted among psychologists and neuroscientists, when a person imagines an object, a pattern of brain activity occurs that is very similar to that which occurs when he or she actually perceives an object. If this is true, the difference between imagination (or memory) and perception may be merely a matter of degree-determined by the vividness or intensity of an experience. But an imagined or remembered apple is neither as palpable nor as tasty as a real apple.

In general, images and memories are pale reflections, much less vivid than the original perception. Otherwise, we would have difficulty in distinguis.h.i.+ng inner from outer experiences, as sometimes happens to those p.r.o.ne to hallucinations. Our normal ability to distinguish memories of past perceptions from current perceptual experiences has obvious survival value. When our distant ancestors came face to face with a saber-toothed tiger, the hunters who were flooded with such vivid memory images of all the tigers they had ever seen, and did not know which tiger to run from, were probably eaten by the real tiger! As a result, they would have had no further descendants, and so none of us are likely to have inherited their dangerous imaginations! Thanks to evolution, most of us have inherited the ability to readily distinguish inner events from outer ones-except in dreams, of course. But this is because during the REM state, the part of the brain that normally inhibits the vividness of imagery is itself inhibited, allowing memories and mental images to be released with undiminished vividness-as if they were waking perceptions. And this is exactly what we ordinarily take them to be, mistaking dreams for external reality-unless, that is, we happen to be lucid.

It is plausible to a.s.sume that the varying degrees of perceived vividness have their neurophysiological basis in corresponding variations in the intensity of patterns of neuronal discharge in the brain. This being so, the accounts of lucid dreamers, as well as the results of the experiments described earlier, suggest that the level of brain activity a.s.sociated with lucid dreaming is at least comparable to, and frequently of even greater intensity than, the activity accompanying waking perceptions.

Perceptual vividness is probably the main criterion we use to judge how real something is. In a famous story, Samuel Johnson kicked a stone to demonstrate what he thought was "really" real. But if by some devilry he happened to be dreaming at the time, it would have been a dream stone he was kicking, and it could easily have seemed just as solid and "real." From the point of view of the brain, what seems real is as real as real can be.

Taken together, our work at Stanford has ama.s.sed strong laboratory evidence indicating that what happens in the inner world of dreams-and lucid dreams especially-can produce physical effects on the dreamer's brain no less real than those produced by corresponding events happening in the external world. The results of the experiments summarized in this chapter show that the impact of certain dream behaviors on brain and body can be fully equivalent to the impact produced by corresponding actual behaviors. This fits hand in glove with the fact that dreams are normally experienced by the dreamer as fully real, and indeed it is not unusual for dreams (especially when lucid) to seem more real than physical reality itself. This is far from the view prevalent in Western societies, seeing dreams as "airy nothings" devoid of meaning and reality. On the contrary, what we do in dreams (or leave undone) can at times affect us as profoundly as what we do (or do not do) in our waking lives.

I believe our findings have a number of exciting implications. The most exciting would seem to be in the areas of philosophy, psychophysiology, and neuroscience. All three of these disciplines have had a longstanding interest in the relations.h.i.+p between the mental and physical worlds. This, the "mind-body problem," is really many problems-or else a single problem that takes many forms. Among these forms is whether and how the subjective (mental) events of the dream and the objective (physical) events occurring in the dreamer's brain are connected. At this point, I can only give a partial answer: our research indicates that dream events are closely paralleled by brain events. The extent to which this model of psychophysiological parallelism will provide an accurate picture of reality remains a goal for future research. But in whatever details it may ultimately prove to be wrong, our model at this point seems empirically to rule out dualistic conceptions of dreaming, such as the traditional favorite of the soul (or "astral body") flying about the dream world completely free from brain and body.

Our results also should encourage psychologists, neuroscientists, and psychophysiologists attempting to discover correspondences between objectively measured physiology and behavior, and subjective experience. We are just at the beginning of mapping out the relations.h.i.+ps between the human mind and brain, but our Stanford work may have brought us one small step closer to the day when we will discover the structure of our minds within the microcosm of the human brain.

5.

The Experience of Lucid Dreaming

Let us begin in medias res-as is the way of dreams: I was walking along a gradually ascending mountain path with a friend. As far as the eye could see, the only thing moving was the silent mist that veiled the majestic peaks in mystery. But suddenly we found ourselves before a narrow bridge that precariously spanned a chasm. When I looked down into the bottomless abyss beneath the bridge, I became dizzy with fear and could not bring myself to proceed. At this, my companion said, "You know, Stephen, you don't have to go this way. You can go back the way we came," and pointed back down what seemed an immense distance. But then the thought crossed my mind that if I were to become lucid, I would have no reason to fear the height. A few seconds of reflection were enough for me to realize that indeed I was dreaming. My confidence was restored and I was able to cross the bridge and awaken. In another dream world, an anonymous dreamer quoted by Ann Faraday found herself facing an unpleasant dilemma; she had two choices: either she could have s.e.x with "a fantastic dream lover" who would afterwards strangle her, or she could simply decide never to have s.e.x again. She explained that "her growing desire for a life lived to the full rather than a living death led her to choose the former, and as she was being led into the arena she suddenly became lucid." Wis.h.i.+ng to make the most of her lucid dream, "she decided to trick them all and go along with the game; and as she laughed to herself about how she would get up and walk away at the end, the environment expanded, the colors deepened, and she was high." But when the scene changed, "she found herself flying. ..." Later in her lucid dream, she reflected that "although she had been looking forward to the s.e.x, now her deprivation did not seem to matter because she was enjoying other even more exhilarating experiences."1

Oliver Fox described one of his lucid dream adventures as follows:

...eventually we left the carnival and fire behind us and came to a yellow path, leading across a desolate moor. As we stood at the foot of this path it suddenly rose up before us and became a roadway of golden light stretching from earth to zenith. Now in this amber-tinted s.h.i.+ning haze there appeared countless coloured forms of men and beasts, representing man's upward evolution through different stages of civilization. These forms faded away; the pathway lost its golden tint and became a ma.s.s of vibrating circles of globules (like frog's eggs), a purplish-blue in colour. These in their turn changed to 'peac.o.c.k's eyes'; and then suddenly there came a culminating vision of a gigantic peac.o.c.k, whose outspread tail filled the heavens. I exclaimed to my wife, 'The Vision of the Universal Peac.o.c.k!' Moved by the splendor of the sight, I recited in a loud voice a mantra. Then the dream ended.2

The three very different accounts quoted above ill.u.s.trate something of the diversity of form and content shown by lucid dreams. After reading a variety of the fascinating stories people have reported of their lucid dreams, you might naturally be inspired to have your own lucid dreams. The lucid dreams described in this book will give you a sufficiently detailed picture to appreciate the complexity of the phenomenon. You will be well informed about what lucid dreamers say they feel, but will you know what it is really like to have a lucid dream? You cannot know fire without being warmed by it (and a little burned as well!)- any more than you can know the taste of a fruit you have never eaten or the sound of a Beethoven string quartet you have never listened to. In just the same way, you cannot really know what lucid dreaming is like until you have done it yourself. Having made my disclaimers, I will try to give you a feeling of what lucid dreams are like, generalizing from some of the more familiar experiences of your daytime and nighttime lives.

Take a few minutes, now, to observe your present state of awareness. First of all, notice the richly varied and vivid impressions harvested by your visual sense alone-shapes, colors, movement, dimensionality. Next, register the various sounds taken in by your ears-a diverse range of intensities, pitches, and tonal qualities, perhaps including the commonplace miracle of speech or the wonder of music. Observe the experiential dimensions uniquely afforded by each of your other senses: taste, smell, and touch. Continued introspection in this manner reveals your self to be contained within, and oddly enough, always at the center of a multifarious universe of sensory experience. Also note the subtle but essential difference the process of reflection has contributed to your experience. Not only are you aware of all the sensory impressions just surveyed, but you can also, if you try, be aware that you are noticing these things.

Normally, awareness focuses on objects outside ourselves, but sometimes it turns in on itself. If you focus your attention on who is focusing your attention, it is like standing in front of a mirror face to face with your own reflection. This inner state of self-reflection is called consciousness. I am warning innocent readers that I intend to use this word exclusively to mean reflective awareness, as just described. (Other writers have been known to use the word consciousness to refer to the mental abilities of hydrogen atoms! This is not what I have in mind, but enough said.)

All right, I trust you have been able to uncover your "inner eye" of conscious self-reflection. Well, now what? What is it good for? If you value freedom very highly, logic demands that you put a similar value on consciousness. Why? Because consciousness is what allows you to act most freely and flexibly. With habitual action, we can only do what we have already learned. But with consciously directed, intentional action, we are free to do things we have never done before. In any case, by means of consciousness you are able to deliberately attend to whatever interests you. You could put this book down now or turn the page. You could freely remember a vast number of facts about your life, and you could, if put to the test, think clearly.

This sketch of your current experience could serve as a description of lucid dreaming-with some important modifications. First of all, in that state you would know it was all a dream. Because of this, the world around you would tend to rearrange and transform itself (including the dream characters in it) much more than we are used to in daily life. "Impossible things" might well happen, and the dream scene itself, rather than fading into nothing, might increase in vividness and beauty until you found yourself rubbing your eyes in disbelief. Further, if you were willing and able to own the dream as yours, you would see it all as your own creation. This would imply that you were responsible for what was happening, and with this might come a wondrous feeling of freedom-for lucid dreamers nothing is impossible! Inspired by this realization, you might fly to heights as yet undared. You might choose to face someone or something that you have been fearfully avoiding; you might choose an erotic encounter with the most desirable partner you can imagine; you might visit a dead loved one to whom you have been wanting to speak; you might seek self-knowledge and wisdom in your dream. The possibilities are endless, which leaves plenty of room for prosaic lucid dreams, too. So it is important to have a goal-something you want to do the next time you have a lucid dream. Although the particulars of lucid dream content vary tremendously, there are certain characteristics of lucid dreams that apply to most and perhaps all of them.

Who Is the Dreamer?

A lucid dream implies a lucid dreamer. Obvious as that may seem, there are subtleties here. First of all, who exactly is the lucid dreamer? Is the lucid dreamer identical to the person we seem to be in the dream? Or to the person who is actually asleep and dreaming? The question of the ident.i.ty of the dreamer is in a certain sense mysterious; to solve the mystery, we first need a list of suspects.

The most obvious suspect would seem to be the sleeper. It is, after all, the brain of the sleeping person that is actually doing the dreaming. But sleepers have a perfect alibi: they weren't there at the time of the dream, or any other time either-they were in bed asleep! Sleepers belong to the world of external rather than internal reality-because we can see and objectively test that they are asleep. But dreamers belong to the world of internal reality-we cannot see who, how, or what they are dreaming. So, we must turn our attention to the denizens of the dream world.

In a dream, there is usually a character present whom the sleeper takes to be himself. It is through the dream eyes of this dream body that we normally witness the events of the dream. The dream body is ordinarily who we think we are while dreaming, and this seems the obvious suspect. But actually we only dream we are that person. This dream character is merely a representation of ourselves. I call the character the "dream actor" or "dream ego." The point of view of the dream ego is that of a willing or unwilling partic.i.p.ant-apparently contained within a multidimensional world (the dream), much as you probably experience your existence right now.

That the dream actor is not the dreamer is shown by the fact that there are some dreams in which we apparently play no part at all. In these dreams, we seem in varying degrees to witness, from the outside, the events of the dream. Sometimes we dream, for example, that we are watching a play. We seem to be in the audience while the action unfolds on stage. In this case we are at least represented as being present, though pa.s.sively observing. A famous example of this type of dream is found in the Old Testament (Genesis 41:1-7):

Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river.

And, behold, there came up out of the river seven well favoured kine and fat-fleshed; and they fed in a meadow.

And, behold, seven other kine came up after them out of the river, ill favoured and lean-fleshed; and stood by the other kine upon the bank of the river.