Do you ever dream in such a way that you wake, and fall back asleep to continue a dream?

I dream a lot about three things--flying, womanhood, and immortality. In such dreams I am learning how to be these things.

I dreamt once of all three of my themes, in three different intervals...

FIRST

I was walking with a loved one, who I knew in the flesh (outside my dreams) but never really got close to. In the dream we were lovers, and we both had otherworldly powers. Hers were more developed than mine and I would constantly boast of what I had recently achieved in the mastery of my abilities. We were walking through an urban neighborhood which resembled the first area I grew up in that I could fully remember.

We walked down several blocks of north/south streets with houses, trees and streetlights. It was just after dusk, and the glow of the sun's reach from beyond the horizon was just beginning to fade. We were walking and talking about nonsense and I began to boast again. I said, "I broke the sound barrier today, I was going like 871 mph".

She retorted, "Oh, really! That's awesome, let's test you out"!

She flew up into the air and I watched the light of her energy zip off into the cosmos, and stop somewhere in the upper atmosphere.

So I jumped up, and began zipping upwards at over 1500 mph. But alas, I was still learning to control my flying ability, and was overzealous--I used up too much energy too fast, and I fell right back where I was standing as if pulled by a rubber band. I tried to fly up a couple more times, and each attempt was thwarted by my ever-diminishing energy reserves. Finally, panting, I gave up on trying supersonic flight.

She sent me a message saying "Maybe next time, eh? Come over to my place."

Then I woke up for a moment, because I felt as if my bed shifted. I closed my eyes, and within a few moments I returned to the dream.

SECOND

When I returned, I just jumped up to avoid a passing car, and began to float slowly over what seemed to be a semi-rural/semi-suburban town, with not tall landmarks. It was later now, and the sunlight had completely faded from the horizon. I floated along trying to re-familiarize myself with the neighborhood she lived in. I perused street after street, when it struck me I was on the wrong side of town. Last time I went to her place I drove, and I remembered that the coffee shop I had just flown over and the water tower to my right were on the other side of town completely.

This township was obviously consolidated from two smaller ones, because there were a couple miles of highway stretching between the two, and along it there were nicely laid-out farm lands and small trailer parks.

Once I reached the other side of town I descended from about 500 feet up to just 25. I traveled through the traffic lights I remembered passing before, down the streets to her apartment complex. It was a rather recently developed area, and the back side of the complex had yet to have sod applied, but all the buildings were completed long ago. People would frequently park on the dirt area closest to their apartments because they didn't have much parking and it wasn't conveniently located with the buildings.

I walked up to and into her apartment. It was a nice but quaint 80s-style apartment with backlit glass brick portholes instead of windows. None of the end apartments had any real windows, but that gave you nice security. It had a southerly facing door, and when you walked in there was a small tiled walkway leading forward to a closet. To your left was a bar-style kitchen with more glass tiles to partition it about half way back.

This kitchen was very small, only big enough for one to cook in, or two if you squeezed. But it was beautiful, with plenty of accent lighting and mirrors, countertops asymmetrically tiled in recycled colored glass, with colorful decorative bottles lining the opening from the bar, plus a few half-full liquor and liqueur bottles. Under the elevated glass-decorated upper bar there was a spot for hanging wine glasses, and storing all the assortments for making and serving mixed drinks.

Beyond the kitchen was a contemporary living room with end tables on the couch on the right wall, and a loveseat just behind the bar facing the TV on the edge of the carpet. The TV was angled between the couch and loveseat, and the neon lit glass brick pseudo-windows were on the farthest wall. Just to the right before the couch was a hallway containing first a small blanket-closet, with a metal vent plate covering the central air conditioning system. Down the hall to the left was a tiny efficiency bathroom, and to the right was a quaint little square bedroom with a ceiling fan.

My lover came out of the bedroom still drying her hair, and sat down on the opposite sofa from me. We began talking about my flying skills, and she joked "I had time to take a shower while you 'slow motioned' your way to my place."

I stated that I wasn't to blame that I got a little overzealous and tried to fly too fast exhausting myself before I got to altitude.

All this while, quiet music hovered in the air, and the 40 inch projection TV remained black with a tinge of grey and other colors from the nearby lighting. She sat down on her towel, and walked off behind me grazing my shoulders with her fingers as she passed. Her touch eased the tension of my ill-fated sound-breaking flight. As I leaned back in the loveseat to the aft the bar, I listened to the gentle music as I could hear her clinking glasses together, and pulling corks from bottles.

I readjusted my disheveled bra and unwedgied my panties, as high speed flight has a tendency to turn my panties into a jock strap and turn my bra into a mini parasail.

I heard a fizzle as her hand with a wineglass of spirits whizzed past my ear. I flipped my hand back and slid the wine glass between my pinky and ring finger and rolled it around in front of me without so much as a thought, not spilling a drop.

She sits down next to me on the edge of the seat leaning forward to me, while holding out her glass. She says, "Don't worry about not being able to catch me, because I could feel you fighting with all your strength and wits to get to me. It's not your fault that your power isn't as developed as mine, and I could see the intent in your words and your actions", she adds.

Then once again in this dreamlike state I awaken and close my eyes to resume my dream.

THIRD

Still with my lover, we drift off into conversation, in which I begin to explain something which can only be described as a past-life memory. I start to convey the story of a life lived in a very different place from where we are now. A place with evergreen trees and sharply upwardly jutted mountains covered in snow, decorated in night stars and mingled in a tinge of blue moonlight. It was like a movie scene when a storyteller's mind wanders--the images of the story take on a life of their own. So I see the story painted in my mind even as I am still telling her...

In this vision, I am a beautiful immortal more than 200 years old. I fly as if it's second nature to me, and I have a small wooden lodge at the top of a sharp peak of the mountain. The evergreens look so peaceful, and I watch the snow sparkle as it falls from the branches of the trees while I hop from treetop to treetop using no more effort than a wiggle of my toes. I frequently stop back by my cabin to eat, drink and occasionally rest.

I remembered soaring between trees at immense speeds hearing the sound of the wind echoing off the trees as I passed. In my memory I seemed to be recalling that I had ambient use of my energy rather than being dependent on projecting it from my hands and feet to move myself.

Here my lover commented "I experience something similar to that when I fly… I just do it, and don't need a place of focus on my body to move energy."

In that life I had dark brown eyes and dark brown hair, and at over 200 I didn't look a day over 20. I remembered a cool summer day when I flew over a calm river valley tightly nestled among mighty shard-like mountains. It was late evening and I could see the sun peeking between the monoliths. In the distance, on the shoreline, a temple stood, and I raced toward it. I could feel the cool air caressing my cheeks as I plummeted towards this temple built to honor the immortals. I touched down as gentle as a leaf in the midst of a lush semi-tropical Zen garden built along the pathway to the candle- and torch-lit temple. There were Chinese characters inscribed on a hanging wooden tablet over the door. I think it said something about Tao, and correlation to the immortals… I can see the symbols in my mind better than I can translate them.

I was one of the honored immortals at that temple, so I entered, mildly interrupting an evening meditation. It looked much like a Buddhist temple, only rather than a big Buddha on the central chamber's altar, there was a large bell decorated in ropes hanging from an intricately carved archway. There was a pedestal underneath it with two steps, on the steps were dozens of scrolls, flower petals, and Chinese calligraphy painted onto wooden stock ornamenting the two steps. The steps were covered in hand woven cloth carpets, and the archway and pedestal were cordoned off with heavy ropes. The bell was bronze, and there were bronze symbols hanging on either side of the bell. The floor was smooth and shiny, and the center isle was uncovered and showed the wear of the hundreds of bare and wood clad feet that had walked there…

Priests and villagers sat quietly on pillows in carpeted areas. They were all meditating, and the low murmur of their voices added a peaceful backdrop to the scene. There were hanging bronze pots with the smoke of smoldering incense pouring out, and the air felt like it was charged with peace and light. I had never been so happy. I could feel the qi building and flowing through this place as if all of nature and life like the current of an invisible river.

This was all I could remember though… If I was truly immortal in my past life it seemed as if the reason I wasn't in that form anymore was blocked from me. At this point the third segment of the dream ended.

A FEW DAYS LATER

I learned a bit about Taoism, and the Immortals of Taoism and Buddhism. I immediately made a connection to the dream. In fact the correlation was uncanny.

Because of the dream, I created a new name for myself: Reneta Scian, or Xian for Chinese language sake. It means... Reborn Immortal.

NOTE

I have a sleep disorder so my REM cycles often times seem to be processing days sometimes weeks of backlog, thus the amount of detail.

--Reneta Scian

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