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.

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