Suddenly, he twisted the handle and toppled over to one side. Boy and bike tumbled gently onto the grass. Quickly the mistake was rectified when the boy pulled himself and the bike up again. As I approached, I could see an amazing array of expressions march across his face.

First there was sudden panic. "Oh no, what if I'm hurt?" Then his visage changed to "Yes, it *does* hurt, should I cry?" And finally, "Well, maybe it's not all *that* bad, but it was scary. If I make a fuss, will I get sympathy?"

By this time a female companion, older by a couple of years, had returned to his location. She rode by on her own bicycle, watching him, but did not stop. "Are you all right?" she called out, then urged, "Come on, just get back on."

The boy had been upset, that much was certain. Perhaps he had a few bumps and bruises as well. But he also had a model, a friend who assumed that spills and chills were par for the course. She knew he could continue to ride. Which he did, mounting the bicycle, balancing it again and pedaling off while making nary a sound of protest. I couldn't help but be impressed by the behavior I had just witnessed.

I mused how analogous this incident was to my own Dream Trek. Trouble, pain and fear, my Inner Child knows a'plenty. Making mistakes, yes; tripping, for sure. But continuing to rise and get back on the program. It might take much more time than a few short moments, but I remembered licking my wounds, retreating to heal and then daring to move forward again. Searching for the methods, the models, the traveling companions that would help me move beyond the walls, around the traps, and through the valley of shadows to emerge as a Healthy and Happy Kid on the other side.

Then a memory flashed into my mind. It was a panel of dreamworkers. They were discussing the "dangers" of lucid dreaming. No, "discussing" is too intellectual a word. These folks may have been academics, but their flushed faces revealed the true emotional undertone of the presentation. They were worried. They were scared. And in order to get sympathy, they were making a real fuss.

During the entire presentation there wasn't a single "older companion" to serve as a reality check on emotions run wild. So their Inner Children threw a temper tantrum, right up there on stage of the college auditorium. And in the process, actual bruises and imagined hurts were wrapped up together in a big fear balloon that got blown up the size of a humongous stomping reptilian beast.

Richard Wilkerson has been asking me to start a FAQ on proactive dreaming. Yeah, sure, Richard. First, I have a question.

Is Godzilla still in the house?