This month's excerpt features a particular type of lucid dream, the mutual lucid
dream. Linda Lane Magallon, author of "MUTUAL DREAMING," shares a
wonderful example of this type of dream that she and an acquaintance
Pair of Lucid Meshing Dreams
(c) 2000 Linda Lane Magallon
There are two important kinds of mutual dreams: meshing and meeting. A
meshing dream involves information interchange. Ideas, feelings, emotions,
symbols, themes, events or the dreamscape can be shared between dreams. These
element's can be literally identical, as when both Lucy Christian and I dreamt
of a large room and of the ability to fly. Or the elements may be metaphorically
related. I saw "silhouettes of buildings" in my dreams; Lucy viewed
"furniture of asymmetrical shapes" in hers. We both met friendly older
men, had memory trouble, were concerned with name recognition and described our
surroundings in artistic terms.
(c) Linda Magallon 12/12/85
I become lucid in a large room which seems to be the hallway of an office
building. I start calling out, "I want someone to recognize me!"
People are walking back and forth; the closest man gives me a weird look. That
stops me; I think, "Oops, maybe I'm being too pushy for this place. I don't
really know the rules here." Then I think, "Oh, hell, this is just a
dream !" and begin calling out again.
The scene changes and I'm in another room with an older dark-haired man
seated on a comfortable overstuffed chair in front of me. "Hello,
Linda," he says pleasantly.
"Dr. Hogue!" I exclaim in recognition. "We've met before,
haven't we?" (It seems we met in an earlier "scene" of this
dream, but on waking I don't remember it.)
He comes toward me. "What would you like to do?" he asks. I'm aware
there's a lot that can be done with lucidity. But right now I just want to have
fun. "I want to fly," I reply.
Dr. Hogue puts his left arm around my waist and stretches out the other to
hold my right hand wrist. We take off out a window and fly swiftly forward
toward the horizon. The scenery is mainly flat: to the right is a large body of
vivid turquoise water. We stop midair and I concentrate on it. The wavy water
seems to change into lines of various shades of blue, like those found in an oil
painting. To the left are the silhouettes of buildings: as I look closely, I
realize they are unlike any buildings I've ever seen in my time period and
wonder if I'm in the future. I try to commit the shapes to memory, but the only
ones I do recall upon waking have triangular roofs.
(c) Lucy Christian, 12/17/85
I am in a large room when I become lucid. I start to fly out when I notice that
the room is very beautiful, so I change my mind and explore the room instead.
First, the ceiling catches my eye. It is made of shimmering silvery panels. The
room is filled with beautiful flowers of many kinds and colors. I have the
feeling of being on the inside of a beautifully wrapped Christmas gift, looking
I wander into an adjoining room, asking aloud if there is a friendly spirit
around. An older man appears and we hug. Several others join us. Then lucidity
and memory fade. Later, I become lucid again. This time I am in a narrow
stairway going upstairs. I come to a narrow yellow door that opens into an
apartment with some very unusual furniture. It looks like it is made of some
kind of corrugated cardboard construction built into asymmetrical shapes, yet
comfortable and functional. They are painted in soft colors with graphics as are
the surrounding walls.
Several women are in the apartment who seem to be welcoming me into their
group. I tell them I am in a lucid dream. One says, so is she. When I ask them
what their names are in waking life, they give me some names, but I do not
recognize any of them. Nor do I remember them now. One woman tells me it is a
very "mental" question.
Notice the 5 day time-slip. Mutual dreams don't have to occur on the same
night, because dreams are loose in both time and space. Lucy lives on the East
Coast of the United States; I live on the West. Both of us were incubating to
the same Lucidity Project target goal, "Gift yourself with a Christmas
dream." Both of us were lucid. But even though we had dreams of similar
form and content, we didn't see one another. Actually, we've never met
face-to-face in waking life, either.
Be sure to check out Linda Magallon's website "The Dream Explorer"
The Lucid Dream Exchange is a quarterly e-zine that features articles, poetry,
book reviews and lucid dreams submitted by lucid dreamers. If you'd like more
information about The Lucid Dream Exchange, contact Lucy Gillis at