LUCID ON THE MOON
Dreamed 1980/2/23 by Chris Wayan
A sunny day as always, though the sky is black, as always. You get used to it. I'm driving on a rough winding road: clay or hard dirt. It, and others in the distance, are raised like levees. But a flood's unlikely: this is the moon.
So I'm dreaming! I go lucid. Why do I need a car, if it's a dream? Park it in the middle of this lunar rill and get out. Leap high in the air, and look around while I float down. If I am descending at all. No. I'm levitating! Well, why not? I'm lucid; I can do what I want.
A speck far off. Someone's watching me. An aluminum glint. A cyborg! This person also hops a little in the air (well, nearly vacuum--the terraforming program hasn't made much headway yet). Whoever it is can fly like me; up and away, over the black horizon.
BOOM! A tremendous shockwave behind us. A nuclear explosion! I tumble mid-air, or vacuum, and when I right myself I fly on, zigzagging. I have a feeling anywhere I pause is going to burn. Someone's out to get me. Lobbing nukes from lunar orbit!
The shockwave knocked me so far up and so fast I may well be in low orbit myself. The gray globe pivots under me. No, not gray; faintly ochre, golden-brown craters and mountains. Desert, but beautiful. Not a silver eye in the sky, a world. Perspective is all.
A gigantic bulls' eye swings under me, staring out blind--Mare Orientalis, I think. 1000 km across, the biggest scar on the moon. Now it seems to be more like a map, on which the cartographers are just starting to piece together the arcs and see the scale of the old catastrophe. I think they're still underestimating it a bit.
I land at last, far from the nuclear bombsite. Still unsure if there's air. I breathe a little to check. I'm still lucid, so I experiment with CREATING air by the act of breathing it...
On the run, on my own... but lucid, on the moon.
Mare Orientalis is the biggest impact scar on Luna, and visible from Earth but unnoticed until the fly-by missions! It was on the edge, so distorted and foreshortened we failed to recognize its extent. Saw it but didn't see it...
So Mare Orientalis = the huge scar of an ancient trauma I haven't yet fully recognized--though I have the facts and could deduce it, they're just pieces to me so far.
Now I know what that huge, long-unrecognized scar of Mare Orientalis meant. When I was two or three, my crazy uncle lived with us and (unknown to my parents) told me in detail what his shock treatments were like. I figured if I acted too strange, my parents would turn me in too, and burn my brain. As an adult I had constant nightmares of mental institutions and fears of cops and psychiatrists; but I didn't learn the facts behind the fears until a few years ago.
But there's a second source for the imagery, which I also couldn't have identified in 1980. Eighteen years later, I read Philip K Dick's novel SOLAR LOTTERY. There's a bizarre chase scene on Luna that my dream echoes quite vividly. Having caught many dream-references to events, films and books in my near future, I recognize the pattern, but this is the longest such psychic leap I've ever found, not days or weeks but years--just as Mare Orientalis is on a scale of its own. Why such a strong reaction to the book? Well, I identified a lot with the hero, a working-class rebel in a world of smug professionals who had the system nicely rigged. Dick predicted (along with other unpleasant social phenomena) the yuppie.
Create your own air, people. The well-off aren't going to give you any.
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