Lucidity Letter - July 1983 - Vol. 2, No. 3

Lucidity Letter

1.   A Survey of Lucid Dreams, OBE’s and Related Experiences - 61

       Susan Blackmore

2.   Senoi Dream Praxis - 61

       Robert Knox Dentan

3.   Birth, Lucid Dream and the OBE - 63

       Susan Blackmore

4.   Review of Leaving the Body: A Complete Guide to Astral Projection - 64

       Harry Irwin

5.   Lucid Dreaming and Mysticism: A Personal Observation - 64

       George Gillespie

6.   Comments on an Investigation of the Relative Degree of Activation in Lucid Dreams - 65

       Alan Worsley

7.   Lucidity and Reading: A German Lucid Dreamer’s Report - 65

       Edith Gilmore

8.   Lost Lucid Dreaming Ability - 66

       Al Mitrevics

9.   News and Notes Vol. 2, No. 3 - 66


A Survey of Lucid Dreams, OBE’s and Related Experiences


Susan Blackmore

Brain and Perception Laboratory

University of Bristol, England



Individuals (n = 593), randomly selected from the Bristol Electoral Register, were sent a questionnaire on dreams, hallucinations, body image distortions, psychic experiences, mystical experiences, imagery and OBEs. An explanatory letter and stamped return envelope were also enclosed. Those who did not reply were sent a reminder after three weeks and anotherquestionnaire after six weeks. Further questions were asked of those who had OBE’s experiences. Usable questionnaires returned by 321 (55%) people. There were 145 males and 163 females, aged between 18 and 87 (mean 44.6). Chi—squared analyses were utilized and the following were among the findings.


Of the 47% who said they experienced lucid dreams, most reported between two and five such experiences. Five people (2%) claimed to be able to have lucid dreams at will. Additionally, 40% said they recalled a dream once a week or more and 55% said their dreams were very to extremely vivid. There were no significant sex differences but lucid dreamers tended to be significantly younger than others.


Lucid dreamers also tended to report more frequent dream recall, vivid dreams, flying, hallucinations, body image distortions and OBEs. (see Table 1 below). They had more often used telepathy and believed more in ESP. Although lucid dreaming experience was not related to belief in survival nor to reporting having had mystical experiences. Lucid dreamers reported more vivid imagery regarding one of two imagery questions.


      There were no sex differences in the 28% of this sample who reported having flying dreams, but flying dreamers

      were younger. Nineteen percent claimed mystical experiences, 45%had had a waking hallucinations and over

      half reported experiences like changing size, shaking, turning and floating sensations and seeming to see

      with eyes closed. Additionally, 25% had experienced telepathy, 36% believed in ESP and 42% believed in





Table 1

Relationships Between Lucid and Flying Dreams and Other Experiences


Chi Sq.



Dream Recall








Dream Vividness
















Used telepathy
























Mystical Experiences








Belief in ESP








Belief in Survival








Changing Size
























Seeing with eyes closed


















               1All significant relationships are in the positive direction. The top line is for lucid dreams while the bottom line is for flying dreams. A significant positive association was also found between lucid and flying dreams (X2(1) = 15.9, p = .000067).


No significant age or sex differences were noted among the 39 respondents (12%) who re­ported OBEs. OBErs were more likely to report lucid dreams, flying dreams, hallucinations, body image distortions, mystical experiences. They said they experienced telepathy and be­lieved in ESP and survival, Most OBErs (85%) had had more than one OBE and 5% claimed to have had one at will.


      The most striking finding was the strong association between lucid dreams and other experiences. The same sample tended to have all of them.


Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 61.


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Senoi Dream Praxis


Robert Knox Dentan

Department of Anthropology

State University of New York at Buffalo1


Anthropologists who work with the people Kilton Stewart called ‘senoi’ agree that his account of how those people talk about and use dreams is rather idealized. The inaccu­racies seem to stem from unconscious but sys­tematic methodological biases which Domhoff and I have discussed at length elsewhere (Ed. Note: See note at end of article). The fol­lowing account of Senoi dream praxis draws on discussions I have had with other anthropolo­gists, notably Geoffrey Benjamin of the Uni­versity of Singapore and Clay Robarchek of the University of California. Senoi them­selves, however, supplied most of the infor­mation, during conversations with me while I was Living with them in 1961—1963 and 1975. This article is therefore a critique neither of Stewart’s work nor of the therapy he pro­moted, merely a presentation of dream theory in Malaya.





Stewart’s “Senoi’ are the 10,000 Temiar, in­digenous people of Western Malaysia who speak a language related to Cambodian but not to that of the Malays who dominate the peninsula and have reduced the indigenous people to a status like that of Native Americans. Immediately south of the Temiar are 16,000 Semai, culturally and linguistically as close to them as Spanish to Portuguese. In both lan­guages the word for person is a variant of sn’ooy hence, both are known together as “Senoi,’ the sense in which I will use that word. Between Semai and Temiar, despite mutual suspicion, there is much contact, intermarriage and intermixture, since eth­nicity is an alien concept of little impor­tance in their daily lives. I spent a couple of years living with Semai, including over seven months in a mixed Semai—Temiar settlement in the state of Pahang.


The Varieties of Dreaming Experience


Senoi tend to take dreams more seriously than most Euroamericans do. They discriminate be­tween several sorts of dreams. Like people everywhere, Senoi do not respond directly to the world, but to the world as they categorize it. Therefore, understanding Senoi dream categories is prerequisite to understanding their dream theory. Senoi themselves must decide what sort of dream is involved before they can deal with it.


Gunig dreams. The most significant but least common type of dream is one in which a famil­iar (gunig) adopts the dreamer as its “father” by giving him a melody with which he can lure it to help him during curative or diagnostic song ceremonies. People with gunig, having the ability to deal with other supernatural entities from “gunig country,’ are ‘adept’ (halaa’). Women can become adepts and are then usually more adept than men, but Senoi say, their bodies are not strong enough to withstand the rigors of trance, so that female adepts are rare. I only heard of two or three.


Although gunig are so timid that song ceremo­nies must be held in darkness, some Semai and Temiar saw that an adept can send gunig on errands during the daytime, for instance to pick up something its “father” left behind on a trip or to steal things from Malay stores. Some Semai say that, since Temiar gunig are often tigers, one should be careful about waking a Temiar up, lest he change into a tiger. They also say some Temiar are furry, with claws between their fingers.


The word for gunig dreams (mpo’) also refers to the appearance of the gunig itself in dream or trance. Moreover, mpo’ is the generic term for “dream,” That is, mpo’ refers both to dreams in general and also to gunig dreams, ‘true mpo’, in particular. To linguists, mpo’ is an “unmarked” category, both generic and specific. Culturally less important categories must he “marked” off from the specific use of mpo’ in the meaning “gunig dream” by the use of other words. An English analog which has attracted some attention recently is the use of “man” as an unmarked category covering both “people” and “male people.” Feminists are linguistically correct in protesting that such usage implies that “men” are culturally more significant than “women,” just as “true mpo’” are more meaningful than others dreams.


Pipuuy. When a man bitterly regrets having no mpo’ he means he never dreamed a gunig, so that his dreams are unlikely to carry much weight with his fellows. Most dreams are —Pipuuy, with no gunig melody and probably meaningless. There are many sorts of —pipuuy, like nightmares and wish fulfillment dreams. Pahang Semai in the Semai—Temiar settlement used —raiyeh to designate nightmares of falling, said to be common among children, and -yeiyah to refer to dreams of sex or aggreasion, said to be an early symptom of madness. Both, however, are nonpredictive and can be caused by eating tabu foods or by midnight snacks. The commonest and worst nightmare is of an old bearded man who threatens to eat the dreamer.


Most people do not trust dreams “unless you dream them three times.” We used to have true dreams, but no more.” Obvious wish fulfillment in dreams is always —pipuuy; “You dream of sleeping with a pretty girl and the next day you don’t even see her,’ complained Temiar adept. A Semai man pointed out that “When you go away, people dream of you but wake to find you gone.”


Often people do not know or do not claim that a dream is predictive until after the event, as Case 1 illustrates:


Ngah, a Semai man about 40, dreamed often but never had a gunig dreams. One dream: His father told him to study the inner workings of a car, but Ngah flubbed the task. A couple of quail appeared, and Ngah grabbed the male. A Semai man unknown to Ngah threatened to eat the quail, stole it and ate it. Ngah then played with some Jungle fowl chicks.


Initially Ngah thought this dream referredto the salmonella which wiped out his settlement’s chickens. Later, however, a neighbor’s child suffered “soul loss” (see below). Quail, shy and short of stature, are natural symbols for children and their “soft” souls. The Semai man must have been a malign entity which snatched the child’s dream soul, said Ngah,


On the other hand, even an obvious wish fulfillment fantasy becomes a “real mpo’” if a melody is present, as Case 2 shows:


A Semai-Temiar man, infatuated with Temiar girl whose influential father refused to let him see her, mooned around in misery. Like many Senoi unLucky in love, he spent a lot of time steeping and dreaming of her. At last he dreamed that she appeared and gave him a melody. His depression lifted at once, for, as he would say, grinning, “Another man has her body, but I have her dream soul.”


This case demonstrates the flexibility of Senoi dream theory. Without the melody, the dream is —pipuuy. Indeed, Senoi say that, parted from ones beloved, one should not sleep in the usual place, since his or her fragrance will linger and call up dreams of the absent one from which the dreamer will awake depressed and weeping bitterly.



Object being prepared in foregrounds is spirit perch to which familiar spirits will be called for evening curing/flirting/trancing/dancing/singing ceremony (for which, see Dentan 1978, in Montagu “Learning nonaggression”

Some words don’t translate, even between Indoeuropean languages. Euroamericans recog­nize that “the French have a word for it” (but the Germans don’t) and so on. The float serious criticism Semai made of my book about them was of the use of “soul” as a gloss for their word ruwaay. In fact, ruwaay are not much Like Christian “souls.” The five aspects of the psychic for which Semai and Temiar have words are no more “souls,” than are the psy­chic phenomena Americans label “will,” “consciousness” or “personality.” The easiest way to understand them, said Ngah of Case 1. is to think of a person as a car. The ruwaay, localized behind the center of the forehead, would be the battery. Kloog, “awareness” or “perception” or “will,” pervades the body but focuses in the pupil of the eye and is the driver. The other three--I’ll gloss the “breath,”

“glow of health” and “conscious­ness”--pervade the person but are concen­trated respectively in the respiratory sys­tem, skin and heart, serving as the car’s gas, paint job and running of the engine.


With the understanding that “dream soul” is a convenience rather than en adequate translation, I will use that phrase to embrace ruwaay or kloog. They may leave the body when a person is asleep or in trance, so that his or her “blood stops running.” In their travels they encounter other dream souls belonging to animals, supernaturals or the like.


Ruwaay travel much of oftener them kloog, appearing in dreams as birds, butterflies, homunculi or children. All ruwaay may follow the setting sun, so that the sleeper wakes up logy and depressed. Wandering ruwaay vulnerable to malevolent entities in gunig country but can only be lured back by song ceremonies.


What’s in a Dream?


Most Senoi are skeptical empiricists. As a people they lack centralized authority structures and respond to coercion by flight. No Senoi tell another what to do. Parents deny teaching their children, since such coercion would damage the child spiritually and sooner or later, physically. The result is that they display a lot of individual variation and flexibility in interpreting dreams.



Talking about dreams. There are no formal discussions of dreams. The topic arises in one of two ways. The commoner has to do with the fact that not much happens in any small rural settlement anywhere. Dreams, like travellers’ tales, spice up the usual conversational diet of weather and back-biting. Such dream narratives are not serious. Listeners may tease the narrator: “Aha! Those coconuts in your dream are testicles!” Since most dreams are ‘pipuuy, people tend to keep ominous dreams to themselves: “You wouldn’t tell people you dreamed they died. Why scare them?” Wise Senoi wait until dreams come true before reporting them.


Having reliable diagnostic or predictive dreams, however, is one of several prerequisites to becoming influential. Senoi dislike of status seeking, however, entrails discretion about publicizing one’s dream “like some social climbing Malay.” Malicious gossip may assert that en influential man does not have reliable dreams but narrates his wife’s. Anyhow, nowadays dreams don’t come true often people say, though always true in the old days.


Symbolism. Senoi dream interpretation is as flexible as that practiced by any Freudian Jungian. There are some common correspondences but no fixed symbolism. Thus dogs may connote bellyache; fire, fever; maize pustules; durian, sniffles or coryza; the moon death; fish scales, money (coins); elephants dropsy or inguinal hernia or genital filariasis. A fat Malay may presage elephants. Killing people may mean good hunting but killing pigs may mean that people will die. Turtles may stand for women, carabao for the evil bird spirit associated with childbirth and so on.


Some correspondence require explanation. Deer, for instance, may stand for yaws or (T.B., a disease Senoi regard as similar) explication of this connection runs like this:


Shortly after his mother died of yaws a man found a sambar deer in his spear trap. As he and his friends were carrying the sambar home, they passed through the settlement they had abandoned, following Semai custom, after the death. The sambar said: That’s my house. They ate it anyway, but the son began to suspect that they had eaten his mother. He inspected her grave. The grave was, empty. He saw human      footprints all around it. He returned home and told everyone what happened. They all went to look at the grave. They followed the footprints to the site of the spear trap.


Incest, matricide or patricide, yaws and thundersqualls seem alike to Senoi, since each involves terrifying disruption of the natural order, with hideous consequences. The presance of one implies the others. Thus in dreams a snake or deer in or near a house suggest incest, but outdoors yaws or a thundersquall. Incest dream, are -yaiyah night­mares, symptoms of horrible underlying mental or social disorder. A dream that one has sex with parent or sibling means death for the dreamer, “in a week or two.” A dream that a

sibling has such sex similarly entails that sibling’s death.


Senoi, however, find in dreams what they want, as in Case 2 above and in Case 3, which involved Merloh, a Semai man in his 20s:


I dreamed last night a huge python was in my father’s house. I was sitting on a log by the hearth and saw it over my shoulder, like this. I yelled, “Dad, dad, come hit this python!” He came over and hit it, and it shrunk until it was tiny. . . People in the old days would say that was the dream soul of incest. (Dentan asks if Merloh wants to commit incest.) Hey, it’s not my dream soul! Someone else is thinking about incest. Anyway, if the python is killed in the dream, the incest dream soul is killed, so you don’t have to worry that it will get you later…Maybe if someone else dreamed like that, it’d be his own dream soul wanting incest.


A mixed Semai-Temiar settlement in Ulu Telmon


Controlling dreams. Normally Senoi do not try to control their dreams. They do say that pissing in the river makes one forget one’s dreams, so that, if one wanted to remember, one might piss on land. Nightmares might make a person more cautious about flouting tabus or eating midnight snacks. Waking Semai and Temiar may rap the nape or the small of the back of a sleeper who is twitching, crying out or weeping in a bad dream, in order to pop the mpo’ out of the sleeper’s mouth. Most

Senoi say familiars cannot be lured or coerced into choosing a particular person as their “father,” After a “father’s” death, his gunig maysplit up, choosing new “fathers” but often picking one or more of the dead man’s sons or nephews. West Semai saythat the appearance of a dead adepts gunig in someone else’s dreams show that the dead man consciously or unconsciously “deputized” his heir.


From this notion, the conscious choice of a “deputy” seems to have evolved along the upper Geruntom River in Central Perak state, near the porous Semai—Temiar boundary. There, an adept could deliberately transfer his gunig to a candidate, if the gunig agreed. In 1963 1 spent a few days there and talked, matters over with a man from “my” settlement who was then a candidate; in 1975 I spent a couple of weeks with people fromGeruntom, which had converted to Methodism in the interim. Acquiring a gunig from someone else involved a series of song ceremonies held over a period of about a month in order to win the familiar’s gratitude by giving it prestige “in its own country.” The candidate made a token ritual payment to the adept who instructed him. Even so, gunig remained uncoerced. Oftener than not the candidate’s body was not “good” enough to coax the gunig away. Adepts, for instance, should have “cool” bodies. A euphemism for adepts is the “cool—bodied ones,” perhaps because, in contrast with sick and feverish people, an adept’s body becomes cool when the trembling comes upon it in the darkness of song ceremony as the gunig prepares to speak in slurred gutterals through his mouth. Strength and good looks are also important.


Outside Geruntom, Senoi dismissed this tech­nique as “foolishness.” A Geruntom adept acknowledged that gunig were too skittish to control. For instance, he pointed out, they get angry at their “father,” even when the “father” himself has done no wrong. e.g., when a third party scares the gunig dream soul away during a song ceremony by sneezing or lighting a match. I think gunig embody Senoi cautiousness but also that this pro­jected timidity serves to explain the empir­ical fact that such distracting influences as lights, loud noises and the presence of strangers tend to inhibit an adept’s trance.


Summary and conclusions


For reader, interested in Stewart’s dream theory, it seems proper to supplement the foregoing account of what Senoi do with a summary of what they do not do. Senoi theory ascribes little or no significance to most dreams. Trying to control entities which “cause” dream content is the sort of coercion Senoi say would scare such entities away. There are not dream clinics nor, outside Geruntom, any deliberate instruction in dreaming. The instruction at Geruntom has little to do with the techniques described by Stewart, some of which, like having sexual relations with one’s kinsmen in dreams, Senoi find hideously repellent. I talked about Stewart’s dream therapy in 1962. A typical response, from a man I’ll call Yung:


It might be a good way to work out the problems of several people in the commu­nity, I’ve never heard of such a custom and people here wouldn’t know how to do it. Hamid’s dreams (Hamid was the most aggressive child in town) are never about hitting someone but always about people hitting Hamid.


Stewart’s Senoi dream therapy awaits ethno­graphic confirmation still.



Note for Lucidity Letter Readers:


The readers or Lucidity Letter might want to know that Professor G. Wm. Domhoff, a sociol­ogist at Stevenson College, University of California, Santa Cruz, is working with me on a longer article on Stewart and Senoi, The International Studies Program at the State University of New York at Buffalo is to publish a more comprehensive and technical account of Senoi dreams I wrote a while ago,


The photos herein were taken on Ulu Telom in 1962. Stewart remarks explicitly in his the­sis (p. 56) that his account refers to Ulu Telom people as well as to the “extension’’ of Temiar (p. 50) culture among hill Semai, like these Ulu Telom people. Settlements there are all mixed. Ethnic distinctions are fluid.


I mention the Ulu Telom references in Stewart’s thesis to indicate that the people involved are the same he worked with. I should add that there wasn’t sufficient time between his work and mine forso central, praxis to vanish without trace, as a couple of folks have claimed, People still talk about events which occurred 300 years ego. Not much happens in the country, just like here.


         1Reprinted with permission from Dream Network Bulletin, 1983, 2(5) Pictures and note original to this



Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 61.



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Birth, Lucid Dream and the OBE


Susan Blackmore

Brain and Perception Laboratory

University of Bristol, England



Honegger (1983) recently put forward the theory that the OBE is a form of lucid dream in which the cord, tunnel and out—of—body imagery result from a fetal OBE occurring during the stress of birth. This theory pre­dicts that people born by Caesarean section should be less likely to have these experi­ences.


A questionnaire on OBEs, dreams and type of birth was administered to 234 Bristol, Eng­land residents, Honegger’s hypothesis was not supported as 40 (17%) had bean born by Caesarean section and they were just as likely to have had OBEs and tunnel experi­ences as those born normally. However, they were more likely to claim they could control or create pleasant dreams and lees likely to report falling dreams.


Other dress and related phenomenon questions were also analyzed and 29% of the respondents reported at least one OBE and of these 79% had had more than one with 3 claiming that they could have one at will. Regarding lucid dreams, 61% claimed to have had them and 96% of these claimed more than one with 6 indi­viduals reporting they could have them at will. Two by two contingency tables were con­structed for those who had or had not had the various experiences, and associated x2 values calculated (see Table 1). The expected relationship between OBEs and lucid dreams was


Table 1

Relationships Between the Experiences


Hypnagognic1 imag.











Falling dream











Flying dream











False awakening











Dream control 1











Dream control 2











Lucid dream






















Tunnel exp.











Type of birth






















1Values given are for chi squared with 2 degrees of freedom, comparing those who do and do not claim each experience. All significant associations are positive, except for birth type.

* = p > .05   ** = p > .01   *** = p > .001


 found that is, the same people tended to have both. Also lucid dreams and OBEs were both

significantly associated with having hypngogic imagery falling dreams, false awakenings and the ability to control ones dreams.


There were two questions about dream control. One asked about stopping unpleasant dreams (dream control 1), but It was the one (dream control 2) which asked about ability to cre­ate or control pleasant dreams which was highly associated with the other experiences.


The results imply that there is a cluster of experiences in which dream control and false awakenings are central, and are related to lucid dreams, OBEs and hypnagogic imagery. There may be something crucial in the ability to control one’s pleasant dreams which aids in having OBEs and lucid dreams. It seems we shall learn more about OBEs by studying their relationships to dreaming than from the anal­ogy with birth.


      Honegger B. 1982 The OBE as a near—birth experience. Research in Parapsychology 1982, Scarecrow Press

      ,in press.



Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 63.


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Review of Leaving the Body: A Complete Guide to Astral Projection

by D.S. Rogo. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice—Hall, 1983

By Harvey Irwin,

Department of Psychology

University of New England

Armidale, Australia


Rogo’s aim in this book is to provide members of the general public with a simple yet com­prehensive guide to systems for the induction of the out—of-body experience (OBE) or “as­tral traveling” as it is termed in occult circles. The OBE is an experience in which one has the impression that consciousness or the center of awareness is outside the body. Typically this impression is accompanied by a realistic perceptual—like experience of the immediate environment from the out—of—body perspective, and on occasion the experience may venture to more distant setting and even to surrealistic realms.


Leaving the Body describes eight basic tech­nique for OBE induction, many of which can otherwise be found only in esoteric texts. As codified by Rogo the techniques respectively emphasize dynamic concentration, progressive muscle relaxation, dietary control, breath­ing/ yoga/mantra, the Monroe techniques, visualization, dream control (through lucidity), and guided imagery. In presenting each induc­tion technique Rogo outlines its rationale, enumerates the fundamental steps of the pro­cedure, and offers some evaluative comments in the light of the OBE literature. The gen­eral reader who is curious about “astral travel” will find the book readable, compre­hensive, and possibly inspirational. Rogo makes no outrageous, claims for any of the techniques, an approach for which he should be given due credit. One might quibble over Rogo’s apparent acceptance of certain re­search findings too much at face value, the oversimplification of some concepts and theories, and the inclination to refer to the OBE as if it necessarily entailed a literal, exteriorization of consciousness, but this is not the sort of book in which finer points of interpretation can be pursued in any depth.


Although it is not Rogo’s primary concern here, Leaving the Body would also be of some value to the professional OBE researcher. One of the major difficulties in this field of study is that currently available methods for the laboratory induction of the OBE are not very effective: that is, they do not evoke an OBE in every participant and those experi­ences that do occur are all too often very pale imitations of spontaneous (“real life”) OBEs. Rogo will have performed a service to OBE research if his book proves to assist the parapsychologist in the development of an efficacious OBE induction procedure. There also may be a less direct spin—off for parapsychologists, as Charles Tart notes in his foreword to the book. If some reader, can promote the capacity to have an OBE virtually upon demand they would make most valuable participants in psychological and neurophysiological studies of the phenomenon; progress in our understanding of the experience there­by could be facilitated.


Again, as far as the Lucidity Letter’s audi­ence specifically is concerned there may be rather more limited appeal in Rogo’s book. Chapter Eight, “Projection through Dream Con­trol,” does describe the methods of Oliver Fox and Sylvan Muldoon for realizing dream lucidity, but lucidity researchers already would be well acquainted with these classical techniques. The potential, value of Leaving the Body for lucidity researchers really re­volves on the actual basis of the statisti­cally attested association between proneness to dream lucidity and the occurrence of OBEs. Does this association encourage the notion that the techniques surveyed by Rogo could he used to engender openness to lucid dreaming? Some psychologists who regard the OBE and the lucid dream as phenomenologically equivalent may have such an expectation, but in my assessment, practice in OBE induction would have only indirect and thereby marginal effects upon the incidence of lucid dreams. Thus a few procedures in Rogo’s book may de­velop an ability to keep a goal. “primed” in the subconscious mind, and most procedures (if applied successfully) would tend to broaden participants’ ideas of what their mind is capable of. Such factors in turn may well enhance people’s progress in some lucid­ity training programs. Nevertheless that such benefits would warrant the expended rise and effort is a moot point, and in any event cur­rent lucidity programs do tend to take due cognizance of these factors. Such secondary advantages aside the OBE techniques generally would not usefully be applied to lucidity research. Like Rogo (p. 132) I regard the OBE and dream lucidity as distinct phenomena. Certainly some OBEs do arise under conditions conducive to lucid dreaming, and hence lucid­ity can be employed as a vehicle for an OBE, at least by some folk. But the converse rela­tionship need not hold, and indeed the condi­tions which the book’s techniques seek to effect for the occurrence of an OBE are on the whole not those from which lucidity would necessarily be expected to follow. In short if psychologists wish to improve their experimental techniques for OBE induction and those for the facilitation of lucid dreams, Leaving the Body probably will be thought-provoking only in regard to the former.



Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 64.


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Theoretical and Personal Observations


Lucid Dreaming and Mysticism:

A Personal Observation


George Gillespie

Department of Oriental Studies

University of Pennsylvania




As I read the literature on lucid dreams, I see the occasional temptation to refer to un­usual lucid dream phenomena as mystical ex­perience, or to imply that it is. These phe­nomena include the “enlightenment” of knowing one is dreaming, the recognition that what one sees is part of oneself, the feeling of energy or currents through the body, the seeing of light, the feeling of levitation or that one is out of the body, the hearing of “divine” music, and many others. It is true that many lucid dream phenomena may be found in a wide variety of mystical literature, and the connection between dreaming and mystical experience is worthy of study. But a cautious language is called for.


In the study of religions it is well known that the word “mysticism” is difficult to define in a manner pleasing to everyone. It is used so loosely at times that it can include anything occult, religious, pious strange. Historians of religion normally choose to use the work in a quite restricted manner. What mysticism is, is open to discussion, but it is more or less an experience of some other greater than oneself—God,  brahman, the all, the universe, Being, or some spiritual being, that comes through transcendence of oneself., It is an insight into the nature of reality.



As we read mystical literature we have to recognize whether a phenomenon is an essential part of experiencing the “other” or incidental. It is St. Teresa’s vision of Christ which is mystical, not her feelings of levitation or projection. We may levitate or project in lucid dreams and never know any reality greater than ourselves. We need to distinguish between the phenomenon itself and our interpretation of the phenomenon for instance between light the phenomenon and divine light the interpretation, or between the sensation of rising out of the body and being out of the body. We may say that we hear “divine music,” but then we have chosen to speak of it as “divine music” rather than as music. We may have a spectacular vision unusual in its form, light, and color, but at what point should we consider it as a vision rather than as dream environment? Carefulness of language is necessary in all dream study because we are tempted to give too much weight to the unusual possibilities of what we have experienced. Having an experience described in mystical literature does not make it mystical. It may in the end be as useful to speak of mystical experience in terms of dreaming as to speak of dreams in terms of mysticism.


I have a particular reason for saying all this, I am a frequent lucid dreamer. I have recorded to date 376 lucid dream experiences. Through my experimenting in dreams I have encountered a great variety of phenomena described in mystical literature. On the one hand, I am a Christian clergyman sympathetic to religious experience. But on the other hand, I have been a teacher and student of the history of religions enough to appreciate objectivity, precise language and a critical attitude. This hes not been an easy combination.


The mysticism—related phenomena that I have experienced have occurred around two opposite types of experience, which I think of generally as the darkness and the light.



I became interested in the tern “dreamless sleep” which is a state of consciousness described in the Upanishads. It is identified with the experience of ultimate reality. About that time i teed Frits Staal’s suggestion in Exploring Mysticism that the identity of dreamless sleep by the Hindus with the State of being at one with the Absolute may provide us a key to understanding mysticism. He said this along with the suggestion that the serious study of mysticism is better made directly and from within rather than just indirectly through the reports of others. I decided that for my next series of experiments I would try to eliminate the elements of dreaming and bring about dreamless sleep, with no presuppositions as to what should result. I began that specific attempt about two and a half years ago. Gradually I was successful while dreaminglucidly, in eliminating the total dream environment including body awareness and all mental activity. The elimination of the elements of dreaming leaves consciousness in darkness.


The experience oflight, on the other hand, is not brought about by the dreamer, but comes unexpectedly while the dreamer is lucid. Others have also reported experiencing (Sparrow, 1976). The minor form of the light appears like a ball of light of no set size. The extreme form of the light is the seeing of only light. All else is eliminated. This experience is for me accompanied to varying degrees by feeling, of devotion and joy. It is a religious experience for me. This I have experienced so far thirteen times. It has never happened twice in exactly the same way.


The experience of darkness and the experience of light and the roads to them are full of mysticism—related phenomena that must be reflected upon critically when awake. As the literature on lucid dreaming expands, these so-called mystical phenomena must be dealt with objectively, with no prejudice either be either for or against a truly mystical interpretation. I am now bringing my journal to a close in which I give details of these experiences and my reflections on them. It is Dreamer’s Progress: A Record of Experiments Made While Dreaming. For its conclusion I have been trying to get beyond conjecturing and sum up what I really believe about all that has happened during these experiences. The religious, side of me is having to be critical. And the critical side of me must leave room for belief. I believe that in the end an attempt at honesty and careful language will be most helpful to myself and to others.


Sparrow G.S. Lucid dreaming: Dawning of the ClearLight. Virginia Beach, VA: A.R.E.

       Press, 1976.




Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 64.


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Comments on an Investigation of the Relative Degree of Activation in Lucid Dreams


Alan Worsley

EEG Department

St. Thomas’ Hospital, London


Observations and experiments in connection the light switch phenomenon (LSP) both

in my case and those of others (See LL’s 3 & 4) prompt me to suggest that in dreaming, including lucid dreaming, a significant amount of the anomalous content arises as a result of the reliance by the dreamer upon patterns of expectation which though appropriate in waking life are not appropriate to the changed circumstances under which dream imagery is constructed. In particular in the LSP the time taken for dream imagery to be constructed, even though it is only a matter of seconds, is rather longer than the time taken for a scene to be illu­minated and perceived while awake after switching on a real electric light. The failure of the mechanism which creates dream imagery to perform at a rate which conforms to the dreamer’s waking expectations leads to further anomalies as other expectations are brought in to explain why the light does not come on. These expectations are also inappropriate because in dreams there are e.g., no fuses to blow or other material causes of that nature; the material causes lie in the brain and the brain does not work upon the same principles as those of domestic electricity distribution. There are certainly no fuses in the brain.


In this way the original error resulting from inappropriate expectation is compounded and the dreamer’s report of the result is difficult to understand even with the insight afforded by the interpreter’s knowledge of the role of inappropriate expectations be­cause this factor is only one of many. It is therefore not surprising that the interpretation of dreams has varied so wildly over the centuries and continues to do so.


Perhaps the key fact that a lucid dreamer has to grasp in order to extend the moment of lucidity — for that is often all that it amounts to when the dreamer is facedwith the confusion arising from the use of inappropri­ate expectations — and to exploit the result­ing situation is that he need not adhere nearly so much as in waking life to the learned limitations of cause and effect but is free to construct whatever images he wishes though he will probably find it neces­sary at first to use the existing framework of actions and probable results. This freedom applies not only to sensory imagery but also to other experiences even as far as meanings though this is where communication with the waking world breaks down and dreams become vary mysterious.



A practical approach to the investigation of the relative degree of activation of these different levels and under what circumstances the emphasis is at one level rather than an­other might be easiest in the area of lan­guage and auditory imagery. In my own experi­ence the sensory aspect of speech in dreams often seems deficient — I am frequently in doubt as to whether I have had the experience of hearing speech in addition to understanding what was said unless I make a point of turn­ing my attention towards the sensation. This is perhaps not unexpected since as opposed to the situation in waking life where it is more a matter of filtering out information that is not required from the sensory input the situ­ation in dreams is that the imagery has to be created and it would be reasonable to surmise as a first approximation that the dream im­agery would be created as required by the rapidly changing circumstances of the dream rather than as a grand total from which items are selected. There must be a limit on the size of the model held in the brain. On the other hand the limits on what can be quickly created are much wider. In the simple case of a lucid dreamer choosing to look to the left or the right it is quite unnecessary that the scene on the left or the right actually ex­ists (except in the possibility of its rapid construction) before the dreamer looks at it otherwise there would be no limit to what would have to be stored in a form available for immediate access because there is no knowing in advance where the dreamer will direct his attention if he is indeed free to look where he will. It might be argued that in fact some of the difficulties in con­trolling dreams arise out of a lack of latent but readily available potential imagery but the same difficulties could be explained by inadequate capacity to construct the required imagery.



By way of beginning the line of investigation suggested in the previous paragraph I have recently been experimenting with turning on a radio in dreams with interesting results. Since there is no social situation involved and random tuning in covers a wide range of possible results the situation is open as far as possible for expectations to operate according to waking experience. In fact on the occasion when I obtained the clearest results first I obtained the weather forecast (after the time signal) and then the news. However, although it sounded very much like it should, it made very little sense. I imagine it was much as someone who did not understand the language might hear it. The point of the experiment — whether I could hear sound if I directed my attention specif­ically to it and if it could be brought into being at the touch of a switch — was satis­fied. I could hear it. On the other hand the meaning had gone to pieces though it amused me to hear such nonsense in the solemn tones of the news. This experience seems to paral­lel the difficulty of reading in dreams. In both cases approximations to the forms are generated but rarely is it possible to make sense out of it. In both cases the medium is abstract symbolic. It looks as if the dream imagery generating mechanism does not handle abstract symbols too well when they occur in long strings whether they be expressed in visual or auditory imagery. This seems to support the contention that dreaming is pre­dominantly a right brain activity. Visual representations or sounds which are not abstract symbolic but whose meaning lies more directly in the form itself seems to be handled rather better. At least there is not the same disparity between ostensive purpose, communication, and the almost complete failure to satisfy it. This superiority might however be illusory because it is possible to read meaning into pictures or music since the medium is fluid and mistakes or other defi­ciencies are not so glaring as in a digitalized system of abstract symbols.


The difficulty of handling language in dreams thus appears to be another area in which the consideration of inappropriate expectations as an aid to the interpretation of dreams would be useful and as usual lucid dreamers appear to be in a good position to investi­gate along these lines. I hope to report on my progress with this approach in future issues of LUCIDITY LETTER.


Note: A personal observation from Fay Wilmes of Omaha, Nebraska dovetails with Mr. Worsely’s comments. She writes:


In my experience the most common type of lucid dream I have concerns written material. When I dream I am reading things I then be­come aware that I am dreaming. Several times I have the overall feeling—sense that it is things that I shouldn’t be reading. Many times though it is just common things, like drivers licenses, business cards and news­papers. The uncommon thing about these is that they weren’t Nebraska licenses or the local newspaper.


I try to keep reading whatever it is, and many times I can. Some of the things I “end up reading” are very technical end contain sketches and graphs. These are the things I get the “feeling” that I am not supposed to be reading. I also read things while someone (and I don’t know who) is actually writing them. Much of the “information” I read, al­though clearly readable, I don’t understand.




Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 65.



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Lucidity and Reading: A German Lucid Dreamer’s Report


Edith Gilmore

Cambridge, Massechusetts1




In the year 1938 there appeared, in a German academic journal on psychology, an article describing a series of twenty—two lucid dreams experienced by Harold von Moers-Messmer.


In his dream life Moers—Messmer exhibits an unusually observant, objective, experiment—minded personality. Many of his experiences are typical — the incongruous detail that alerts one to the dream state, the brightly colored environment, the prickling sensation (“like dipping one’s arm into a bath of car­bonic acid bubbles” says the doctor), and the ability to fly,


This dreamer reports that he usually checks out the situation by attempting to rise into the air. Once certain that he is in a dream state, he sets about observing his environment and conducting his experiments, which usually involve the functioning of one or more of the five senses.


He seems sometimes to have given himself “cue words’ in the waking state to remind him of what he wants to attempt in his next lucid dream state. Unfortunately he says almost nothing about his technique with the cue words, but merely mentions them in passing:


Dream Sixteen: “In an unknown enclosed space I hover in the air. It is obvious to me at once that I am dreaming. I don’t observe the room, but consider what I ought to do. After a while I recollect the cues that I have had in mind for some weeks. While I am thinking about this, it becomes dark for a time, then brighter again. The first word is breath. I close my nose and lips with the fingers of both hands. But it feels as if I’m still continuing to breathe. I don’t have any need for air and perceive clearly my automatic breathing.”


Moers—Messmer makes many interesting notes on his visual impressions. He seems to have been dependent on glasses in waking life, and takes them along into his dream life, where he often puts them on or takes them off to check whet happens visually when he does so.


He generally finds that when he gazes fixedly at a portion of this dream environment, “the visual impression weakens” and because he is afraid that he will wake himself up, he turns his eyes away.


When he fixes his attention on reading matter, however, odd things happen to the text.


In Moers-Messmer’s tenth dream this dreamer finds himself in his usual chamber but no­tices some bright specks which soon vanish. He picks up a newspaper:


“I read without difficulty. Than I try to read individual words backwards. The row of letters seem to extend itself; there are many more than would make up the word in actual­ity. When I have read several words backwards and forwards, something strange happens. Sev­eral of them no longer consist of the letters which make them up, but instead form figures which have a distant resemblance to hieroglyphics. Soon I see only these signs; each has the significance of a word or a syllable; individual letters have disappeared complete­ly. I know what each figure means, my eyes glide along them in the usual left to right direction, and I read whole sentences without any difficulty. Unfortunately I had no time to look at the figures more closely, for it becomes dark around me, and I continued to sleep and forget that I was dreaming.”


In waking life Moers-Messmer checks out Egyp­tian writing. He finds that one of the dream signs is rather like the Egyptian letter “t”. However, he is not sure he remembered the shape of the dream sign clearly, and, in any case, it was not an individual letter.


Dream Eleven: “I survey the wares in the shop window and take my glasses off as a joke to see if I can still perceive the larger ob­jects. At first everything runs together, then the things become clearer in outline. This astounds me and I look at the street. There, too, everything is clearly percepti­ble. An awful suspicion comes over me; I take a run, jump up, hover in the air and know that I am dreaming. As soon as I’m on the surface again I run to the nearest store and tear open the doors. Two people stand behind the counter. I call out, “Quick, some­thing to read.” On the counter lie books and newspaper. I pick one up, leaf through it and read. I want to memorize one sentence and I read it through several times. The first half deals with communications such as are made in official service. The second half does not make sense, even though the individual words are intelligible. I check carefully for new word formations but find none. Upon repeti­tion the sentence seems to become longer and longer; the content remains the same; I can­not retain it. It occurs to me that I am rather tired; a strange indifference leads me to do no more. The brilliance becomes paler, and I now have all kinds of fantastic thought formations. I wake and hear three o’clock strike. It is three and half hour, since I fell asleep.”


In another attempt he “intended to try read­ing.”


“I look around me for something to read, but can’t, at first, find anything. Suddenly I see near me a small table, with many white pages, printed, the size of newspapers. I don’t check to see if these are single sheets or bound together, and reach for the nearest. The print is the size of newspaper print. I begin to read. I read one sentence forwards, then the individual words, letter by letter, backwards. The sentence is short and as I read it forwards it seems to have no flaws of form or expression. I don’t make a note of its sounds. When I read backwards, two or three of the letters take on an alteration from behind. An individual letter at first looks ordinary, separate from the others in an ordinary way, then, in the space of about half a second it crumples up in an irregular line, running not quite horizontally. The same thing happens to the next letter — that is, the one actually before it. The lines join as this happens so that finally the whole word form an irregular line. But I can’t find a meaning in this formation when it is complete.”


What I find puzzling in these reading ex­periences is the extreme elusiveness of the printed work. The dream—mind is apparently willing and able to provide very “real” solid facsimiles of waking life reality that do stand up to investigation. When Moers—Messmer scratches a wallpaper with his fingernails he can “feel the tactile sensation strongly.” Why then can’t the dream come up with some kind of reading content? This lucid dreamer scans to recollect nothing of what he reads or seems to read except the vague recollec­tion about “official communications.”


I was somewhat astonished by his extremely detached attitude about the experiences, since I think most people do not react to lucid dreams this way. If he connected these dreams with his own inner psychic world, there is no indication of it in the article.


The excerpts I have given are only a small portion of the lengthy article, which also covers some lucid dream experiences of other people, and makes an attempt to explain the lucid dream in terms of Wundt’s psychology.


My translation of the article from Archiv fur die Gesante psychologie, 1938. 102, 291—318 and of another called “Dreams of Flying and Excursions of the Ego” can be obtained by sending $3.00 to Dr. .Jayne Gackenbach, De­partment of Psychology, University of North­ern Iowa, Cedar Falls, Iowa 50614.



1Reprinted with permission from Dream Network Bulletin: Lucidity and Beyond, 1983, 2(4).


Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 65.


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Lost Lucid Dreaming Ability


Al Mitrevics

Lincoln, Nebraska


I used to be a very active lucid dreamer un­til I lost the ability through my abuse of a lucid dream. To make s long story very short I started lucid dreaming in my early teens. I had reoccurring nightmares since my childhood and by my early teens I had learned to wake myself. I soon then learned I didn’t have to wake myself but rather could altar my dream so as to have a pleasant outcome.


With practice I soon became totally aware I was dreaming and yet conscious. I exercised this control carefully at first since I found if I “pushed” the dream I would awaken. With practice however I learned to “push” the dream further and further without waking up.


One night during a lucid dream I decided to jump off a building and allow myself hit the ground to see what it would feel like full well realizing it was a lucid dream. I thought I could not hurt myself – not true.


Upon my face down impact I experienced shock and pain that cannot be expressed. I awoke shaking, sweating, heart pounding and in extreme pain. My muscles were sore to the bone for days. Naturally, since that time I have not had a lucid dream.


Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 66.


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News and Notes



Subscriptions Start for Lucidity Letter


Although contributions have paid for production and mailing costs for the last two issues, (personnel costs were covered UNI), they were inadequate to completely cover the expenses associated with this issue. For thisreason a voluntary subscription ($10.00) policy is being initiated for the next five issues (October 1983, January 1984, April 1984, July 1984. and October 1984). The size of each issue will depend on the subscriptions received. Beginning with the January 1985 issue receipt of Lucidity Letter will be based solely on subscriptions. I am trying to forestall mandatory subscriptions as long possible in order to continue to foster interest and exchange of ideas without financial burden. Expenses for the last issue (vol. 2, No. 2) totaled $176.23. Contributions for this issue total $85.40 plus credit from previous contributions.



If you are interested in voluntarily subscribing to Lucidity Letter for the next five issues (if you do not subscribe you will still receive the next five issues but none thereafter) please fill out the form below




  • q       Enclosed is $ 10.00 for my voluntary subscription for the next 5 issues of Lucidity Letter.
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Thanks to the following for their financial assistance:


  Steve LaBerge, California

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Information Requested


Our foundation conducts scientific investigation into the question of human survival after death. One of our experimental research projects is based on tests by which persons may try to establish their postmortem survival through the communication of specific unknown but verifiable words or sentences. This words or sentences might be communicated through mediums, tape recordings or other altered states of consciousness. As part of our research project we are interested in getting mediums, experimenters, and persons who can induce lucid dreams to work with us to try to get such communications.


Arthur S. Berger, President

Survival Research Foundation

P.O. lox 8565

Pembroke Pines

Florida 33084-0565

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Lucid Dreaming Bibliography: Historical References


Two of the oldest historical mentions of the process of dreaming lucidly are from the fourth century B.C. in Aristotle’s On Dreams and in William’s Thompson’s book The Time Falling Bodies Take to Light, Thompson proposed that the Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, third millennium B.C., contains one of the earliest references to lucid dreaming. A list of references on dream lucidity covering work in the area since 1968 when Celia Green’s classic book, Lucid Dreams came out, was published in Lucidity Letter (Vol. 2, Nos. 1 and 2) and is available upon request. Interest in pre-1968 reference was expressed and resulted in this compilation. Additions and corrections to the original bibliography are also given.


Aristotle. On dreams (4th century B.C.). In R.M. Hutchings (Ed.) Great  books of

    the western world, Chicago, Encyclopedia Brit., 1952

      Anonymous. The dream is a suggestion. In R.L. Woods (Ed.,), The world of dreams:

    An anthology. New York: Random House, 1947.

Arnold-Forster, M. Studies in dreams. New York: MacMillan. 1921.

Arnold-Forster, M. Making dreams work for us. In R.L. Woods (Ed), The world of

    dreams: An anthology. New York: Random House, 1947.

Baker, D.M.     Practical techniques of astral projection. New York: Samuel Weiser,


Boss, M. The analysis of dreams. New York: Philosophical Library, 1958.

Broad, D. Lectures on psychical research, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1962.

Brown, A.E. Dreams in which the dreamer knows he is asleep. Journal  of  Abnormal

    and Social Psychology, 1936, 31, 59—66.

Chandra, S.      Dream Lore of India. In R.L. Woods (Ed.),      The world of dreams:  An

    anthology. New York: Random House, 1947.

Chang, G.C.C. Teachings of tibetan yoga. Secaucus. N.J.: The Citadell Press, 1977.

Corriere R. & Hart, J. The dream makers. New York: Funk & Wagnals, 1977.

Corriere, R., Hart, J., Werner, K.,  Binder, J., Gold, S. & Woldenberg, L. Toward a new theory of dreaming.

    Journal of Clinical Psychology, 1977, 33, 807—820.

DeBecker, R. The  understanding  of  dreams. London: Allen & Unwin, 1968.

Delage, Y. Le Reve, Paris: Lea Presses Universitaires de France, 1919.

Descartes, R. The difficulty of distinguish­ing between waking and sleeping. In R.K. Woods (Ed.), The world

    of dreams: An an­thology, New York: Random House, 1947.

Descartes, R. Philosophical writings. E Anscombe & P.T. Geach (translators and Eds.). London: Nelson, 1954.

Eastman, Margaret. “Out—of—body experiences.” Proceedings of the Society for  Psychical Research, 1962,

    53, 287—309.

Embury, Alward . Dreams in which the dreamer knows he is asleep. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 1936, 31,


Evans, F.J. Hypnosis and sleep: Techniques for exploring cognitive activity during sleep. In E. Fromm &

    RE.Shor (Eds.), Hypnosis: Research  developments and perspec­tives. Chicago: Aldine, 1972.

Evans-Wentz, W.Y. The  Tibetan  book of the dead, London: Oxford University Press, 1958.

Evana—Uentz, W.V. Tibetan yoga and secret doctrines, New York: Oxford University Press, 1960.

Fairfield, F.G, A study in apparent death. Scribner’s Monthly, 1880, 21, 249—257.

Fox, 0. Astral projection. New York: Univer­sity Books, Inc., 1962.

Fox, 0. Astral projection:  A record of out— of—the—body experiences, Secaucus, N.J.: Citadel Press, 1962.

Freud, S. The interpretation of dreams. In A. A. Brill (Ed.), The basic writings of Sigmund Freud. New York:

     Modern Library, 1938.

Gassendi, Pierre, Rebuttals against Descartes (1644). In C.B. Brush, Selected works of Pierre Gassendi,

     N.Y.: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1972.

Grosso, M. Some varieties of out—of—body experience. The Journal of the American Society for Psychical

     Research, 1976, 70, 179—193.

Gurney, E.On apparitions occurring soon after death. Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research,

     1889, 5(14), 450.

Gurney, E., Myers, W.H. & Podmore, F. Phantasms of the living. London: Trubner,


Hall, Frederick. An ether “vision,” with editorial comment. Open Court, 1909, 23,


Hart, H. The enigma of survival, London: Rider, 1959.

Hartshorn, K.S. A new dimension in dreaming. Unpublished masters thesis, California State University,

     Northridge, 1975.

Horton, L.H. Levitation dreams: Their phy­siology. The Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 1919, 14(3), 145-172.

Husband, R.W. Sex differences in dream con­tents. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psy­chology, 1936, 30,


Kipling, Rudyard. “Brushwood boy.” In The day’s work. London: Macmillan, 1898.

Mach, Ernst. The analysis of sensations, and the relation of the physical to the psychi­cal, New York: Dover,


Meseguer, P. The secret of dreams. Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1960.

Monroe, R. Journeys out of the body. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1971.

Moers-Messmer, H. Dreaming while knowing about the dream state, Archiv fur die Gesante Psychologie, 1938,

     102, 291—318.

Myers, F.W.H. Automatic writing--III. Pro­ceedings of the  Society for  Psychical Research, 1881, 4(2),




Nietzche, F. The birth of tragedy. Quoted in R. DeBecker, Understanding of dreams, London: Allen & Unwin,


Noone, R. & Holman, D. In Search of the drearm people. New York: Morrow, 1972.

Ouspensky, P.O. A new model of theuniverse. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960.

Pascal, B. How can we tell we are awake? In R.L. Woods (Ed.), The world of dreams: An anthology. New York:

    Random House, 1947.

Rapport, N. Pleasant dreams! Psychiatric quarterly, 1948, 22, 309—317.

Rapport, Nathan. Pleasant dreams. American Imago, 1949, 6, 311—320.

Rossi, E.L. Dreams and the growth of personality: Expanding awareness in psychother­apy. New York: Pergamon

    Press, 1972.

Russell, B. Human knowledge:  Its scope and limits. London: Allen & Unwin, 1948.

Schmeing, K. Dreams of flying and excursions of the ego. Archiv fur die Gesamte Psychologie. 1938, 100,


Schopenhauer, A. Dream versus reality. In R.L. Woods (Ed.), The world of dreams: An anthology, New York:

    Random House, 1947.

Scott, J.G. The Burman butterfly: Spirit and dreams, In R.L. Woods (Ed.), The world of dreams:  An anthology.

    New York: Random House, 1947.

Seafield, F. The literature and curiosities of dreams, London: Chapman and Hall, 1865.

Sen, K. Some Indian dream theories: A study and a comparison with western views. Indian Journal of Psychology,

    1952, 27, 27—37.

St. Augustine. Question of divine interven­tion raised by a dream. In R.L. Woods (Ed.). The world of dreams:

    An anthology. New York: Random House, 1947.

Stewart, K. Dream theory in Malaya. Complex, 1951, 6, 21—33.

Stewart, K. Dream theory in Malaya.    In C. Tart (Ed.), Altered states of consciousness. New York: Doubleday,


Tart, C.T. Towards the experimental control of dreaming: A review of the literature. Psychological Bulletin,

    1965, 64(2), 88.

Tart, C.T. The control of nocturnal dreaiming by means of posthypnotic suggestion. Inter­national Journal

    of  Parapsychology, 1967, 9, 184—189.

Thompson, W.I. The time falling bodies take to tight, St. Martins Press, 1981.

Tholey, P. Der Klartraum: Seine Funktion In der experimentellen Traumforschung. In W.H. Tack (Ed.), Bericht

    Über den 30. Kongress der Deutschen  Gesellschaft für Psychoiogie in  Regensburg  1976. Göttingen:

    Hogrefe, 1977, 376—378.

      Tholey, P. Klartraume als Gengenstand empirischer Untersuchungen. Gestalt Theory, 1980, 2, 7—35.

Tholey, P. Espirische Untersuchungen uber Klarträume. Gestalt Theory, 1981, 3, 21—61.

Tholey, P. Bewusstseinsanderung im Schlaf: Wach’ ich oder träum’ Psychologie heute, 1982, 12, 68-78.

Tholey, P. Relationship between dream content and eye movements tested by lucid dreams. Perceptual and Motor

    Skills. 1983, 56, 875-878.   

Tholey, P. & Krist, H. Klarträumen, Frankfurt/M.: Fachbuchhandlung fur Psychologie, in press.

Tzu, C. Life is a great dream. In R.L. Woods (Ed.), The world of dreams: An anthology. New York: Random

    House, 1947.

Van Eeden, F.W. The bridge of dreams. London: Kennerley, 1913.

Van Eeden, F.W. a study of dreams. Proceeding of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Research. 1913, 26, 431-461.

Verney, S. To sleep, perchance to lucid dreams. British  Medical  Association News Review, 1983, 9 (5),


      Walker, B. Beyond the body: The human double and the astral planes. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974.

Warmen, B.S.L.W. Yoga dream doctrine. In R.L. Woods (Ed.), The  world of dreams:  An anthology. New York:

    Random House, 1947.

      Whiteman, J.H.M. The angelic choirs. Hibbert Journal, 1954, 52, 262—277.

Whiteman. J.H.M. The mystical life. London: Faber & Faber, 1961.


Lucidity Letter Back Issues, Vol. 2, No. 3, July, 1983, page 66.

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