Life just keeps throwing surprises at us, doesn’t it? The past few weeks have been a whirlwind, and it’s been so bizarre that it feels like I might be losing my mind. So many coincidences! I took a sigh of relief when such events stopped. I was certain that it was over, but turns out, I was completely wrong.
For several days, I didn’t experience any lucid dreams, and nothing out of the ordinary happened until that fateful night when I saw Swami in the hospital and learned that he had been in a coma for quite some time. This revelation sparked a myriad of questions within me, reigniting my desire to return to the Lucid Universe. However, lucid dreaming isn’t a skill I can control; it unfolds on its own terms. I had only experienced two lucid dreams before— the first time being guided by Swami and the second with the help of the tea from Mickey. But now neither Swami was there nor was any magical tea to carry me to that strange place. Having no means of going there and getting answers to my questions, all I could do was wait.
As I found all the doors to the Lucid Universe shut, I wished Swami had chosen someone else for the help, because no matter how much I tried, I could not go back there, nor could I ignore the thought that he needed my help. I wished I could have brought more tea bags from the Lucid Universe here. But one cannot simply bring any substance from that world to the real world. I had nothing that could take me there. Suddenly I recalled something— something I had read long back in a magazine— the use of psychoactive substances.
Even though it was a long time ago, I could recall a few details from that old memory that I thought had faded. It was the magazine that had introduced me to lucid dreaming. I read about hacks, including the use of psychoactive substances like galantamine, alpha-GPC, and huperzine-A. I didn’t have those tea bags, but I could procure these substances, if they of course, did not require a prescription. Other hacks mentioned were reality testing, keeping a dream journal, and mnemonic induction of lucid dreams or MILD.
While attempting those hacks didn’t seem dangerous, they did require a substantial investment of time, and I did not know if I could wait that long. If Swami was in some trouble, which I sensed to be likely, delay could have made it worse. The only alternative route to the world of Lucid Dreams was through Swami’s intervention, yet it appeared he was unable to aid me. Despite my diminishing optimism, I persisted in my pursuit, exploring every avenue to enhance my chances of experiencing lucid dreaming.
In my quest to achieve mnemonic-induced lucid dreaming, I established a routine of setting an alarm for five hours after going to bed. This timing coincides with the period when the prefrontal cortex is most active during sleep. It is said that around five to six hours into sleep, our prefrontal cortex, responsible for complex thinking, becomes significantly active. When someone awakens and then goes back to sleep after being awake for a short period, typically twenty to sixty minutes, the prefrontal cortex remains active while the rest of the brain remains in a sleep state. . This heightened activity in the prefrontal cortex facilitates an awareness of the dreaming state, allowing individuals to influence the course of their dreams. Additionally, it is important to verbally affirm, “Next time when I dream, I will remember that I am dreaming,” a practice I also employed.
Another practice I adopted was maintaining a dream journal. Upon waking up every morning, I remained still for a while and tried to recall my dreams and identify recurring dream signs. Through this method, one enhances their ability to perceive events in their dreams. The next time they enter a dream, noticing these things helps them recognize the dream state.
To differentiate between reality and dreams, I cultivated the practice of internal questioning: ‘Is this real or a dream?’ I’d then delve into additional inquiries, such as when I arrived at a certain place and why I came.
As for the use of psychoactive substances, I ultimately abandoned the idea. Being on antidepressants already, I hesitated due to concerns about potential interactions and adverse effects. Additionally, I was unsure if these substances required a prescription, and I couldn’t exactly ask a doctor for them as it might sound irrational.
Despite my continuous exploration of various methods of lucid dreaming, I hadn’t yet managed to enter the realm of lucid dreams. Nonetheless, I persisted because I felt an inner conviction that the universe was guiding me, and that I had a role to fulfill. It’s also ingrained in my nature to assist others in any way possible. People often cautioned me that this inclination might lead to trouble, but for some reason, I’ve always been willing to take that risk—trusting and aiding others, not seeking appreciation but to satisfy the conviction that would otherwise accuse me of selfishness if I didn’t act.
Well, you might assume that lucid dreaming consumed all my attention, but that wasn’t the case. I remained grounded in the real world, diligently fulfilling my daily responsibilities. I was steadfast in caring for my friend Ashish, who was steadily recovering. Each day, without fail, I visited him at the hospital, witnessing the encouraging signs of his progress. Milap, too, was a frequent visitor, and we often spent extended periods chatting together in the hospital.
During these daily visits, not only did I offer support to Ashish, but I also took the opportunity to check in on Swami’s family. Despite having limited information about Swami, gathered from our encounter in the Lucid Universe and his televised interview, I felt compelled to offer my support. Day after day, I questioned about Swami’s health, always receiving the unchanged answer— he still lingered in a coma.
By the way, I had forgotten to mention other information about Swami. You might remember when I encountered him in a dream, he had mentioned that his name was Swami and I asked what his full name was, he had said “It’s just Swami.” I had said “It’s strange.” to which he replied “Many things are.”
I often wondered why Swami had been so enigmatic about his name. After some investigation, I discovered that his full name was Arunya Rajan Swami. His children lived in another city, so it was just him and his wife here. I remember the day of Ashish’s accident; his son and granddaughter were also at the hospital. However, they returned home after a few days, leaving just his wife by his side.
It appeared that his wife seldom left the hospital premises. Despite the ICU’s restrictions on family visits, she remained stationed outside. Regardless of the time—whether I visited in the early morning before work, in the evening after work, or even late at night—she occupied the same spot, often engrossed in knitting a sweater, likely for her granddaughter, or immersed in a book. Her interactions with others were scarce, and this was a consistent observation during my visits.
One Sunday morning, I was roused from my slumber by the insistent ringing of my phone. It was Milap.
“Hey, Sarthak! What’s up for today?” Milap asked, his tone cheery.
“Just the usual.” I replied, still groggy from sleep.
“Visiting Ashish?” he inquired.
“Yes, planning to head over. Why do you ask?” I responded.
“My bike’s acting up, and it’ll be in the shop for a day. Any chance of a lift to the hospital?”
“Of course, I’ll swing by.”
“Great, see you soon.”
After fetching Milap, we arrived at the hospital to see Ashish. The door to his room was slightly ajar, so we entered quietly.
“Good morning Ashish.” —we greeted him as we entered his room. The space was surprisingly cozy, unlike the usual sterile hospital rooms. Soft, ambient light filtered in through the partially drawn curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The television murmured softly in the background, and Ashish was asleep in an upright position, his back propped against the bed as if he had nodded off while watching TV. An unsolved Rubik’s cube sat on the bedside table next to the daily newspaper.
“Good morning. Sorry I dozed off while watching the news.” He said, opening his eyes. He muted the television and continued, “So what’s up? Milap, how’re things? Any luck with finding a good job?”
“Same, bro. I got a few offers, but the job descriptions didn’t match.” he said, sitting on the comfy sofa. I joined him, placing my helmet on the table and picking up the Rubik’s cube.
“Would you like some tea?” he offered, and we nodded. He dialed the canteen’s number and ordered tea and some snacks.
“When are they discharging you?” I asked, my hands fidgeting with the Rubik’s cube.
“They’re not sure, but most likely after three days. I’m just praying they don’t delay it further. I’m so bored of being here for so long. Thank goodness, you guys are able to come here, otherwise, it’s so damn boring.”
“Don’t worry. It’s just for a few more days,” I said, “Then you’ll be home and…” I couldn’t continue as I felt my phone ringing. “Excuse me,” I said, went outside, and answered the call. It was Megha.
“Hi Megha. Good morning.”
“Good morning, Sarthak. Are you heading to the hospital to see Ashish today?”
“Oops. I’m already here at the hospital.”
“Oh, alright. I was planning to come too. I’ll give you a call once I’m there. I should be arriving in about an hour.”
“Sure, just let me know when you’re here.”
“Okay, Sarthak. Thanks.”
“No problem.” I hung up and rejoined Milap and Ashish in the room.
“Who was on the line?” Ashish inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
As the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the room, I noticed the arrival of the much-awaited snacks. Milap graciously poured tea for each of us, passing me a cup with a warm smile.
“Just Megha.” I replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of the steaming beverage.
Ashish’s playful grin widened. “Ah, Megha! Looks like things are getting interesting.” he teased, earning a chuckle from Milap.
“Come on, Ashish, not this again.” I pleaded, feeling my cheeks flush.
“Hey, I’m serious! She’s a great match for you. You should consider dating her.” Ashish persisted.
I shrugged, attempting to divert the conversation. “Maybe, maybe. Let’s see.”
“So, what was her call about?” Ashish asked.
“She mentioned she’s heading over to see you.” I replied and picked up some snacks.
“Alright.” Ashish said with a smile, settling back into his pillows.
After some more chit-chatting, I decided to inquire about Swami’s health. Excusing myself, I made my way to meet his wife.
As I reached the waiting area, I saw his wife was engaged in a phone call. When she disconnected, I approached her and greeted her.
“Good morning aunty. How are you?” I said and sat on an empty chair beside her. “Did you have breakfast?” I asked.
“Yes I did. You?”
“Yes Aunty ji.”
“How is your friend doing now?” She enquired. “Any idea when he’ll be discharged?”
“He is doing better. They are saying that he can be taken home after three days.”
“That’s good to hear,” she replied with a weary tone. Her voice held a hint of indifference, yet the fault wasn’t entirely hers. It seemed that her repeated visits to the hospital had worn her down, and seeing Swami in the same condition only deepened this weariness. It appeared as though she was trying to distance herself from her emotions, as if she no longer wanted to feel anything at all.
I wanted to inquire about Swami, but I had been asking the same question repeatedly for the past few days. Now, I hesitated, fearing that my repetitive questioning might irritate her. Though I wished to ask about Swami’s condition, the words seemed reluctant to leave my lips. Unsure of how to continue the conversation, I lingered in an awkward silence for a moment.
Finally, Swami’s wife broke the silence and asked— “Son, May I ask you something?”
“Yes please, tell me.” I replied, ready to listen.
She fixed her gaze on me and said, “Son, the way you inquire about my husband, coming here daily, it doesn’t seem like you know him just from watching his interview. Have you ever met him in person?” I hesitated briefly before replying, “No, I come to the hospital every day to see my friend. But I also find myself curious about Swami, wanting to know how he is.”
She nodded, then added, “I sense there’s more to it. I don’t know why, but I feel you might have crossed paths with him somewhere. If that’s the case, I don’t know why you did not tell me.” After a pause, she continued, “Sorry, I may be overanalyzing, but that was on my mind, so I shared. I hope you don’t mind.”
In that moment, my inner voice urged me to reveal the truth, even though a part of me warned it might be folly. Uncertainty clouded my thoughts. She would surely think I was crazy. So, I decided to stay silent. ‘But what could I tell her?’ Making up a story seemed impossible. An unexpected confession slipped out, “Well, it might sound odd, but I encountered Swami in a dream.”
I waited for her reaction, expecting surprise or disbelief. However, she remained composed and asked, “Okay, so what happened in that dream?”
I felt uneasy but recounted the events of my dream where I encountered Swami, and how afterwards, I learned more about him through the television interview. I chose not to mention the incident with the SMS, as it would have sounded too extraordinary. However, her next question surprised me— “And what about the SMS?”
“There was no SMS. I have already told you,” I replied, taken aback.
“Yes, I know there was no SMS the next day, but was there any SMS after a few days?”
Instead of answering her question, I blurted out my own, “I’m sorry, but I’m surprised by how unaffected you seem by all of this. Don’t you think it’s too uncanny to be a mere coincidence?”
“Uncanny! No. If you think it’s uncanny, then I must tell you that I have witnessed stranger happenings. If I shared them with others, they would surely think I’m a crazy lady.”
“Which incidents?” I asked curiously.
Well, those incidents are not important for the moment. But regarding your description, I trust you. It aligns with what I’ve read in his journal. He documented his daily experiences in the lucid dreaming universe, revealing his fascination with this mysterious world. To be frank, it seemed to be driving him to the brink of obsession.
I found myself wondering, ‘He had a dream journal too?’ Perhaps asking about it would provide clues to help him. However, I decided against bringing it up and instead, let her continue her story for the time being.
She continued describing Swami’s obsession with the Lucid Universe— “I also feel that his comatose condition is somehow connected to his dreams. He was perfectly fine; he had a full-body check-up just a month ago, and there were no abnormal reports. It’s very strange that he went to sleep and didn’t wake up on time. This wasn’t just a one-time occurrence. I noticed for many days that he slept for unusually long periods. It was almost as if sleeping had become his favorite activity. Sometimes, he woke up very late and went to the office late. He seemed entranced by the allure of the world of lucid dreaming.”
I was deeply moved by her words, realizing that my initial perception of her as stoic and resigned was incorrect. Her revelation shattered that facade, revealing her profound brokenness and devastation. Witnessing her tears was a heart-wrenching experience, and I felt compelled to do whatever I could to help.
I nodded in agreement, a subtle “Ok” escaping my lips. The realization hit me like a gentle wave – I should have offered more words of comfort. Social interactions have always been a bit challenging for me, and there are moments when I struggle to express what I truly feel. Meanwhile, my mobile rang, and it was Megha. “Excuse me. I think I’ll go now.” I said to Swami’s wife and left.
I received the call and heard Megha saying, “Hi Sarthak, where are you?”
“Hi Megha, have you reached?” I replied.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I wanted to know the number of the room where Ashish is admitted.”
“Where are you right now?”
“At the reception.”
“Okay. Stay right there. I’ll come over to see you.”
I soon reached the reception and noticed her. A happy feeling stirred within me at the sight of her. I sensed that I was beginning to like her. I remembered the advice of my psychologist, encouraging me to move on, and at that moment, I felt ready to embrace that change. However, was the sentiment reciprocated? I pushed aside that thought and escorted her to the room where Ashish was admitted.
“Hi Ashish.” she greeted him upon entering the room.
“Hi Megha. Good morning.” Ashish said, trying to sit upright. I noticed that Milap was not there.
“How are you now?” she said, taking a seat on the empty sofa.
“I am better now. They will discharge me soon.”
“That’s nice. I am sorry I could not visit sooner.” she said apologetically.
“It’s perfectly alright.” Ashish said. At that moment, Milap entered the room with a box of pizza in his hand.
“By the way, this is Milap. Milap, this is Megha. She has recently joined our office.” I introduced them to each other.
“Nice to meet you, Megha.” Milap said, took a seat on the other empty sofa, unboxed the pizza, and asked her, “Pizza?”
“No, I am fine. I just had breakfast.” she said with a gentle tone.
“But one slice of pizza is not going to cause any harm. Take it, I insist.” he said and handed over a slice to her. We also took a slice of pizza and engaged ourselves in further conversation.
After some time, Megha asked to leave, and I offered to accompany her up to the gate of the hospital, which she consented to.
Upon reaching the gate, I found myself reluctant to part ways with Megha, so I mustered the courage to ask—“Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?” She agreed, and we made our way to a nearby café. As we conversed, I couldn’t shake off a peculiar feeling. When we were about to leave, I noticed a familiar face—the same girl from my lucid dream, the one I had also seen a few days ago at Singh’s restaurant. It was Myra. However, today I observed something I had missed before. In my dream, she had blonde hair, but that day I saw that her hair was black. Myra walked towards us, waving her hand in our direction. I hesitantly waved back, only to realize that she was actually waving to Megha, who knew her. I felt a twinge of embarrassment for my mistaken gesture.
“Hi Megha.” She greeted her with a warm smile, extending her hand as she came towards us. Megha returned the greeting with equal warmth, “Hi Myra, how are you?” It seemed like they were very good friends. With elegance, Megha introduced me to Myra, saying, “This is Sarthak, my colleague.”
“Hi Sarthak. Nice to meet you.” She said with a friendly smile.
“Nice to meet you too.” I replied, with a part of me somewhat lost in the newly rising question. A moment of uncertainty washed over me, leaving me momentarily speechless. Gathering my thoughts, I managed to ask, “By the way, have we met before?” Yet, her demeanor remained unchanged, offering no hint of recognition, nor did she admit to any prior encounter which occurred in the realm of a lucid dream. Could it be possible that she was not able to remember me?
My intuition preceded her reply, and I knew she was going to say no. And surely she did the same. “Certainly not,” she said, adding, “Why?”
“It’s just that I felt like I have seen you somewhere.”
“Could be. Small city. It’s likely to run into the same people every now and then.”
“Yeah you could be right. It’s very likely.”
“Myra, please have a seat.” Megha offered, casting a quick glance at me to gauge my comfort. Sensing her silent query, I nodded slightly, indicating I was fine to stay longer. There was an unspoken agreement to linger a few more minutes. We all settled into our seats.
“So, Myra, what would you like to have?” Megha asked, initiating the conversation.
“I’ve already placed my order, thanks. My cab will be here soon, and I have to rush off urgently. I’ll be eating in the cab.” Myra explained.
“Oh, okay.” replied Megha, understanding her situation.
“Yeah, I had planned to dine here too, but I just received an urgent call. Do you guys hang out here often?” Myra inquired, trying to make the most of the brief moment before she had to leave.
“No, we don’t. Actually, a colleague of ours is admitted to a nearby hospital. We both had come to visit him, and it just occurred to us that we should grab a cup of coffee. So here we are.” Megha clarified with a smile.
“That’s great.” Myra replied. They exchanged a few more words before Myra left as her cab arrived, leaving just the two of us outside the cafe.
After waving goodbye to Myra, Megha turned to me with a warm smile. “It was nice sitting here in the cafe with you.” she said. “I feel like we should hang out more often.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I sensed that she had developed feelings that went beyond friendship. My heart began to beat faster, and I realized that the feelings were mutual. I was finally ready to move on. Nodding, I replied, “Yes, sure. We’ll plan to go out whenever time allows.”
She smiled, put on her helmet, and said, “See you at work. Have a good time.” Then she left.
For a brief moment, I stood amazed at the turn of events—just a few days ago, I didn’t know how to let go of the past, and now, here I was, ready to embark on a new journey. I hoped my intuition wasn’t mistaken. I hoped our feelings were mutual.
After returning home, I found myself in the familiar routine of scrolling through Facebook videos. Suddenly, a thought struck me: I could try to find Myra on Facebook through Megha’s friends list. Navigating to Megha’s profile, I began scrolling through her friends, hoping to spot Myra’s name. After a bit of searching, I finally found her profile.
“Hi Myra, this is Sarthak, a friend of Megha’s. I hope you remember me.” I messaged her.
After a moment, her reply came. “Hi Sarthak, how are you? I hope everything is well with you.”
“I’m doing well, thank you. Can I ask you something?” I inquired.
“Of course, go ahead.” she replied.
“I couldn’t help but wonder, were you genuinely unable to recognize me, or was it a pretense? I vividly remembered our encounter from that lucid dream.” I asked.
“Yes, Sarthak, I do remember you. However, I think it’s best not to dwell on the world of lucid dreams. Besides, Megha was present, and discussing such matters would be awkward and somewhat unexplainable. Let’s just ignore whatever occurred in that realm. My advice would be to do the same.” she advised.
“Sorry, I don’t understand why discussing the Lucid Universe would be harmful.” I asked.
“You call it the Lucid Universe!” She exclaimed.
“Yes, Why? What do you call it?” I inquired.
“I don’t really call it anything. The state of dreaming is termed ‘lucid’ because we are aware of our dreaming state. However, the term ‘Lucid Universe’ doesn’t seem to quite fit. But it’s okay, it doesn’t really matter what we call it.” she explained.
“Yes, but what harm can it really do to discuss it?” I pressed.
“It’s hard to explain, Sarthak, but it’s not wise to blur the lines between the world of dreams and reality. Doing so could lead to serious conditions like oneirophrenia or other psychological disorders. You never know when obsession might take hold and drive you to madness. Lucid dreaming is meant for enjoyment or for practicing some kind of skill, like driving or playing a musical instrument, nothing more. Don’t delve too deeply into it.” she warned.
“Yes, I’m fully aware of the dangers of getting lost in a different world, and trust me, I’m not too curious about that. It’s just that I need help with one thing. Can you assist me?”
“Yes, tell me.”
“Can you guide me on how to do lucid dreaming? I’ve been trying the journal method, mnemonic method, and other popular techniques I found online, but I haven’t had any success.” I explained.
“I don’t mean to offend you, but your eagerness to have a lucid dream might indicate the beginning of an obsession with lucid dreaming.” she cautioned.
Part of me wanted to tell her about Swami, but I replied after some thought, “No, I’m aware of my desires, and I’m sure I’m not being lured by lucid dreaming. I actually want to add extra hours to my day to learn a few things. I think I can practice my work during lucid dreaming.”
“I don’t know why, Sarthak, but I sense there’s something else driving you to ask for this. You can count on me, just tell me what it is.” she said.
Something told me that she could be trusted, so I gave in and said, “I have a friend who needs some help in the lucid universe. I don’t know him in real life, but he needs some kind of help.”
“I think you should not interfere in such things; it might be dangerous. You cannot trust people from the lucid universe whom you don’t know in real life. I cannot even imagine what kind of help one might need in the lucid universe.” she cautioned.
“I understand, but I just can’t explain much. Just tell me how to induce lucid dreaming.” I requested.
‘Sarthak, don’t try. Things that are destined to be done will be done somehow. Don’t push yourself too much. Again, I am saying, don’t try. I am sorry, but I can’t help you with this.” she advised.
Disappointed, I refrained from pressing her further, sensing her reluctance to assist. Our conversation came to an end, leaving me with a sense of disappointment. But she seemed so right. Obviously, it makes no sense what kind of help Swami might require. Despite this reasoning, the desire to offer assistance persisted within me.
Myra’s words were echoing in my mind—’don’t try.’ It struck a chord with me, serving as a reminder to refrain from forcing the situation. I recalled the concept of the law of reverse effort—the more we exert ourselves, the more likely we are to encounter obstacles. While it doesn’t always hold true, there’s often wisdom in allowing events to unfold naturally. I resolved to adopt this approach and let circumstances take their course.
Thereafter, I refrained from excessive effort. I continued with my previous methods of lucid dreaming and relinquished control to the universe. That night, I fell asleep listening to a podcast about the simulation theory of the universe and the concept of the multiverse. Thoughts about the Lucid Universe had piqued my curiosity about the multiverse and the nature of reality, and I found the topic incredibly fascinating. Placing my mobile beside me, I drifted into the world of dreams.