L U C I D D R E A M I N G W I T H S C I S S O R S
I dream of creating earth art, and I have to handle a cream piece of rough cloth, an interminably long ribbon.
At some point in the dream I decide to tear the sturdy cloth so I can work with it.
But the cloth resists, and I get increasingly annoyed and frustrated with it.
My effort to tear it is titanic, and so is the resistance. I’m on the border of despair.
I put my hands on my hips and say: ‘Fuck this. I’m dreaming.’
I then raise my hands and command out loud: ‘Scissors!’
A pair of scissors materialized in my hands immediately.
I cut the cloth and looked at it triumphantly.
‘Eat that, demon of impossibility,’ I said, and had a very good feeling about the way I handled the situation.
I woke up when my dog walked in and gave me a smooch.