The Ball of Light, A Dream About the Nature of Consciousness and Being

As my awareness gathers into focus, I feel like a crew member on the Starship, Enterprise. Small pieces of me are rapidly reassembling as if I’m being projected here, particle by particle, through the Starship’s Transporter.

THE BALL OF LIGHT, A DREAM ABOUT THE NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND BEING

By Roger A. “Pete” Peterson

The Secrets of the universe are hidden in the details of our experience. -Pete

This is one of the most profound lucid dreams I’ve ever had. Its significance and meaning is still unfolding within me.

As my awareness gathers into focus, I feel like a crew member on the Starship, Enterprise. Small pieces of me are rapidly reassembling as if I’m being projected here, particle by particle, through the Starship’s Transporter. While my body reassembles, I observe my surroundings. I’m standing inside the main entrance of a school that looks like my old high school and elementary school combined. In my present state of being, I can actually see the doors behind me without turning my head. Using these same Inner Senses to extend my normal range of perception, I determine the school is empty. Moving to the center of the main corridor and turning to my right, I look down the entire length of the building and out the windows in the double doors at the end. It’s a long single story structure with  rooms stretching down both sides of the hallway.

The first room on my right is the school administration office. To my left is the school library. Wanting to know everything about this place, I walk over to the administration office and look in through the door window. The chest-high counter that separates the student area from the principal’s office in the rear captures the dark yellow rays of the early morning sun and my attention as well. To me this “gateway” symbolizes the fear and control of public authority. As I study it, a mixture of old memories begins to stir. Some are pleasant but others carry the hard edge of anger mixed with fear and anxiety. Deciding not to relive these disturbing memories now, I back away from the office and turn to look into the library.

As my eyes roam the tall bookshelves lining the left wall, I begin to wonder about censorship and the structuring of authority in our lives. Before these questions fully engage my mind, however, I shift my attention to the large reading tables and low bookshelves scattered about the room. As I study their arrangement, I quietly drift back to the school library of my past. It is early in my freshman year and I am having an intense physical and emotional reaction while sitting at a large reading table with six or seven other students, all classmates of mine from previous years.

Dee (not her real name) is sitting at the end of the table on my right. She’s telling me something funny and punctuates her final remark with laughter. She has severe tooth decay and halitosis, and as the awful smell of her breath fills my nostrils, I stifle an urge to gag as I laugh back at her weakly to acknowledge the humor in her story. In this painful moment I wonder why such a smart, attractive girl like her would let her teeth go so bad. Unlike my front teeth, which were crooked, hers are straight. Adding irony to this question is my knowledge that during the past summer I had my four front upper teeth (the crooked ones) removed and replaced by a partial because they were so badly decayed. I was so angry at my teeth for being crooked, I wouldn’t brush them unless my parents made me*.

As I think about this, I wonder if my breath smelled as bad as hers before my diseased teeth were removed. Does my breath still smell bad even though I brush my teeth regularly now? What a mortifying thought! In the presence of the other students, this becomes a moment of supreme discomfort for me and a moment of great sympathy for Dee and her circumstance. I know why I stopped taking care of my teeth but I don’t know why Dee stopped taking care of hers, unless it’s because her teeth are small which leaves lots of gum showing in her smile. I wonder if she knows she has halitosis because I didn’t know if I had it or not. As the pain of these thoughts fades away, I return to my present self outside the library window with an involuntary shiver and turn to continue my journey down the hall.

Next to the administration office is the janitor’s utility closet. The door is slightly open and the familiar smell of mops and cleaning products fills the air. This brings back the memory of my oldest brother Rudy when, for a short while, he was a school bus driver and janitor at my elementary school. I would ride with him on his bus route after school and help him clean the floors and straighten up the classrooms afterwards. We enjoyed each other’s company and this was one way we could spend time together because he was married and had children. Suddenly, the smell of floor wax registers in my mind and I look down. Daylight entering the windows from the other end of the hallway is reflecting off the shiny linoleum floor, highlighting the crisscross patterns left by the buffer.

The student bathrooms are just beyond the janitor’s closet. I stop, turn, and stare at the locked doors as I react to their symbolism. In my mind’s eye, I watch as boys and girls enter and leave the bathrooms as if it’s a regular school day. This reminds me of the time I helped Rudy clean the girl’s elementary school bathroom. In one of the stalls a girl had written a sexually explicit rhyme. As I read it, I got all the more excited because I knew a girl had written it. At the time I didn’t think girls thought about sex like boys.

This memory excites me now as I stand in front of the girl’s high school bathroom. I suspect there’s a lot more graffiti written on these bathroom walls but how do I get through the locked door to find out? Suddenly, I remember I’m in a dream reality. What will happen if I leave my present body and lie flat in the air in a less tangible one? Will I be able to float through the bathroom door? Almost immediately, I find myself in a lighter body lying flat on my stomach in midair. As I slowly float toward the girl’s bathroom door, I wonder what it will feel like to move through wood. Suddenly, my direction changes and I zoom through the boy’s bathroom door. In surprise I look back at the body I left standing in the hallway. I want answers for what just happened but, to my disappointment, it looks like an empty shell unable to think or act independently. In resignation, I decide to go with the flow of my experience to see where it will take me. Once the decision is made I understand why I’ve been drawn into the boy’s bathroom and not the girl’s. The boy’s bathroom contains a much stronger emotional charge for me. Unlike the energy of the girl’s bathroom, which stimulates my sexual curiosity, the energy of the boy’s bathroom stimulates my fear, my fear of peeing in the presence of other people**.

Invisible and floating in the air near the ceiling of the boy’s bathroom, I watch as real and imagined high school bathroom experiences spring to life. People materialize and use the bathroom with the full color, sound, and motion of reality. Most use the bathroom and leave while others stick around to talk, tease, and smoke. I even participate in some experiences as they quickly manifest themselves and then seamlessly disappear to be replaced by others. In one scene a teacher enters the bathroom to check for smokers only to find two boys fighting. In another scene a boy makes fun of another boy’s habit of going into a stall to pee. It’s as if a window into my past bathroom experiences has opened to provide me with a new opportunity to work through old fears, or at least, make peace with them. When the images threaten to spill out beyond the high school bathroom and take me with them, I put on the brakes. Somehow, I know there’s something more important for me to do here. Returning to the body in the hallway, I remind myself I can revisit these issues whenever I please.

Staying to the left as I continue down the hallway, I pass a number of empty classrooms and look in through the door window of each one. I see nothing of particular interest in any of them. About halfway down the hall, I begin to feel a growing sense of anticipation as I approach the next classroom on my left. As I reach for the door knob the feeling of anticipation and excitement becomes even greater and I pull the door open. Standing squarely in the middle of the opening, I begin to examine the classroom from left to right. On the left there are maybe eight rows of student desks with chairs attached. On the right a large green chalkboard spans more than half of the front classroom wall. Sitting in the middle of the room, halfway between the chalkboard and the rows of student desks, is a large teacher’s desk and chair.

On the outside wall, a narrow band of windows stretches from the back of the classroom to the front. As I study the limited view of the world outside, I remember how confined and claustrophobic I used to feel in my old high school while, simultaneously, a small part of my mind wonders where the teacher and students are. Suddenly, movement at the front of the classroom draws my attention. In amazement, I watch as writing begins to appear on the chalkboard followed by the slowly materializing image of a teacher holding the chalk. Following this, students begin to appear in their seats but before the reality of these images can fully materialize, I cancel them so I can continue to explore the secrets of this classroom in silence and solitude.

Further movement draws my attention back to the student desk area. Two thirds of the way across the room the desks have silently rearranged themselves to form a circle, and glowing brightly in the middle of that circle is a large ball of light about seven or eight feet in diameter. Despite my surprise I feel a profound attraction to this mysterious object. In spontaneous excitement, I step out of my main body in a less tangible one. Partly walking, sometimes bouncing, and sometimes floating, I move past the rows of student desks while the glowing ball of light moves forward to meet me.

Silently, and magically, the student desks arrange and rearrange themselves to accommodate the globe as it moves forward. The nearer I come to it, the less glowing and opaque it is, until finally, as if looking through clouds, I begin to see bits of color and form. Halfway across the room my growing suspicion turns into certainty that what I am looking at is a miniature version of the earth. Standing close to it, there is no denying it is a perfect replica of Earth in every way. Even the clouds are real, and when I put my face close to the ocean’s edge, I can see tiny waves curling against the beach!

Pulling my face back, I wonder how the water on this small world can stay in place within my dream world’s larger field of gravity. Suddenly, I notice tiny pins or pylons sticking out from the surface all the way around the globe. One minute they’re not there and the next minute they are! Looking closer, I can also see an almost invisible network of tiny wires connecting each pylon. As I stand there amazed by the magical appearance of this complex network of pins and wires, colorful pulses of light begin to move from one pylon to the next as if they are sending messages. Picking up speed, the individual pulses of colored light begin to flash back and forth around the globe faster and faster until I can no longer track them. Before long, this world within a world is a blur of flashing colored lights. Awed by the seeming intelligence of this fantastic light show, I wonder if the globe is a living, sentient being.

Prompted by a new impulse, I move to the right around the globe. My destination is the view outside the school. Sitting on the shelf below the narrow band of windows, I put my face close to the glass to get a larger view of the world outside. This act seems to be in direct response to the loss of freedom I felt as a student when I was forced to sit in class day after day, year after year, against my will. When I was in school, the small view of the world outside seemed to mock my yearning to be free, free to determine my own fate and course in life. Even the expanded view of the world I can see now with my face pressed against the window doesn’t seem large enough to satisfy my desire to see and know more. Turning my head from side to side to get an even better view of the world outside only feeds my frustration. The limitations imposed by these windows, this building, and my own body are no longer tolerable. As my frustration level rises to a sharp peak, I explode out of my body in a state of pure consciousness and energy!

With a rush of power and joy I fly through the window to a point high in the air above the school! In this new state of being I know I can act and react without the use or concern of a physical body. I also know I am less tangible than the atoms and molecules comprising the air around me and I revel in my newfound freedom. Seeing without eyes, feeling without skin, and hearing without ears, I fly higher and begin to tumble and roll through the atmosphere with great speed, zipping from here to there without concern for pain or injury. In a moment of great exuberance, I fly down into the earth through rock and soil as if I’m flying through the air, something I vaguely remember doing before in other dreams.

Despite my great confidence and joy, there is a moment of fear as I enter the Earth’s surface. I remember its great density and, for a moment, I worry about becoming dense myself and getting stuck in it. Before this earthbound thought can become real, however, a new thought replaces it. This one reassures me that resistance will come only if I refuse to accept the reality of my present state of being as pure consciousness and energy. Once again my confidence is restored and I relax and fly through the soil with the greatest of ease, wrapped in the knowledge that my experience is always a matter of focus and balance. In other words, we get what we concentrate on. With great confidence I decide to test this belief by making my Energy Body dense enough to feel the texture of the soil and rock around me. It feels great, almost like scratching an itch. When my curiosity is satisfied, I return to a state of pure consciousness and energy (awareness and action). In this state, I know I am because “I Am” with no limits to my creative choices!

Next, I decide to fly over the center of town. It is early morning and quiet. The only movement I see is a pretty young woman pushing a baby stroller down the town’s main street. Attracted to her, I settle into a position about fifteen feet above her head. Soon she’s joined by another young woman pushing a stroller and the two quickly get lost in conversation about life, family, and friends. Feeling strangely related to both women, I use my intuitive abilities to explore our connection. To my surprise, I find that each of us shares a similar mental and emotional makeup, a connection that feels more like family than shared genes. (Is there such a thing as “family” regarding types of consciousness?) Of the two women, my connection with the first one seems stronger. Not only do I find her more physically attractive, her personality has a richness and complexity that intrigues me. She’s bright, caring, and wants to know everything, characteristics I greatly admire, while the other woman is a bit lazy and self-centered in her thinking.

From my invisible point in the air, I wonder what it would be like to live within this woman’s psyche, to be there when she makes love to her husband, plays with her child, or thinks an exciting thought. Can I occupy a small, unused portion of her mind and pay my way by helping her during times of crisis or need? If I observe appropriate rules of privacy and noninvolvement would she even be aware of my presence in her mind? And if I help her find solutions to a problem or two, would she welcome me as an important part of her psyche? Being bodiless and safely ensconced within this woman’s psyche sounds appealing to me. This way I can devote full time to my pet projects free of material encumbrances and responsibilities.

Further pondering life in this woman’s psyche, I begin to see myself as a gentleman boarder at a country inn. Leaving my room in top hat and tails for a trip into town, I encounter my “landlady” as she busily cultivates the soil in the flower garden surrounding the inn. She observes my approach and I tip my hat to her in passing. It’s been some time since I’ve taken up residence in her psyche and she’s become quite comfortable with my quiet presence, although she suspects I’ve helped resolve several issues she’s had to face since my arrival. Her husband is working on farm equipment in the yard and casting mild looks of suspicion in my direction, while the children play happily nearby.

In a sudden departure, I wonder what it would be like to live within the consciousness of a large redwood tree. Instantly, it becomes so. At first the quiet and solitude of living in the forest seems delightful, it is so relaxing! Soon, however, other thoughts begin to creep in, thoughts like “boring” and “limiting”. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming desire to be back in my own body, in my own world. Even the desire to live in the woman’s psyche has lost its appeal as I think about the constant mental tiptoeing, the suppression of my own natural impulses, and the loss of my present body and family. With these thoughts, I leave the two women behind and fly back to my dream body sitting on the shelf under the window.

On the flight back, I wonder about my two dream bodies. Are they still there? What were they doing while I was gone? Were they just waiting for me to come back? My questions are soon answered as I fly through the window and reenter the body sitting on the ledge below the windows. It’s as if I haven’t been gone at all, as if no time has passed for my body.

Standing up, I walk past the globe on the left and notice a door hanging open on the side facing away from the windows. Curious, I walk around it to look inside. Wow, what a surprise! Illuminated by a soft white light that seems to come from the walls themselves, the interior looks like a futuristic computer control room. Except for a small flat area at the bottom of the globe, the shiny metal wall is filled with rows and panels of blinking colored lights. A plush, white leather arm chair fills the flat area on the bottom of the globe. Above it is a large white helmet suspended from the ceiling and connected to the globe by two large electrical cables that coil down to the floor before disappearing into the wall several feet up from the floor. It looks like a football helmet minus the ear holes, although it’s much larger and thicker. Its design and position above the chair clearly suggest its purpose.

With nervous anticipation I enter the globe and sit in the chair. It is very comfortable! Using both hands to pull the helmet down over my head, I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such great good fortune. As the helmet makes contact with my head, I suddenly jump to another world in a different body and a different life. My final thought before the helmet made contact serves as the central theme of this alternate lifetime. Born into a primitive farming culture as a woman, I get married and have children. During this lifetime, I constantly question whether or not I’m worthy of my good fortune. Quickly bored by the limited conceptualization of this lifetime, I skim its highpoints and leave.

Taking a minute to collect my wits, I decide to conduct another experiment. I want to see how well I can control the machine. Will it let me select my parents, my sex, my environment, and the major concepts I want to explore during the course of a lifetime? Holding my breath, I decide to be a white female growing up on a nice farm with lots of animals, a fruit orchard, and wonderful, loving parents. Because it seems to complete the picture, I make us Protestants.

With no clear sense of transition, I enter this lifetime and become a young girl with a collie for a friend. We love to walk around the farm and play, and on warm summer nights we climb out the window of my upstairs bedroom to sit on the roof and look at the stars. While sitting there I ponder life, what is all about? As this young girl, I go to church and school because that’s what everyone expects of me but my mind is full of unanswered questions. Separating myself from her life to examine her most probable future, I see the sadness of unfulfilled dreams. As a middle aged woman she smiles happily outwardly but, inwardly, she feels as though her life has been unlived. To keep others happy, she shaped her life in accordance with their wishes and expectations, not her own. The questions she once asked go unanswered and dreams she once had go unfulfilled. Disturbed by this vision of her future self, I return to her present self long enough to insert new ideas and insights in her mind. Like seeds, they will grow and enrich her sense of wonder and possibility. As I return to my seat in the computer, I am confident she will experience greater joy and richness in her life.

In a great burst of enthusiasm, I create many lives as both male and female. Each one is placed in a different time and setting so I can study the values each life is exploring in my search for eternal truth. When I encounter another personality that piques my interest, I slow down to examine his life more closely. He is a young black man living in a jungle village. He’s married with two children, and is highly respected by the tribe for his mystical abilities. Much to my surprise, as I quietly peer into his life and mind, he becomes aware of my presence. Sensing my role in the creation of his being, he’s overjoyed with my presence. Quickly, I pull back to hide in the darkness of a large black abyss.  No matter, he walks to the edge of the jungle as if he knows exactly where I am and asks to come away with me. Although I’m greatly moved by the depth of his spiritual knowledge and sincerity, I cannot forget his family and tribe. They need him! When I remind him of this he is saddened but turns and walks back to the village, knowing in his heart it is the right thing for him to do.

As I bring this experiment to a close, I realize each lifetime is an opportunity to learn how thoughts in the forms of belief, attitude, value, and expectation work (interact) to create our reality. In other words, each moment, each day, and each lifetime provides us with the opportunity to create a better version of who we are. It makes no difference whether that reality is physically expressed or not. Wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, it’s all reality. With this realization, I remove the headgear and stand up to leave the globe. Walking up to the body I left standing in the classroom doorway, I turn and settle back into it. Backing up and turning again, I close the classroom  door and walk back down the hall the way I had come. With no further need for the school it fades into blackness. Then I wake up to record the details of this dream in my Dream Journal before, it too, fades away.

Copyright 2007, Roger A. “Pete” Peterson

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We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

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2 Responses

  1. […] Value outer reality only, or both inner AND outer reality? (Value experiences in outer reality and ignore experiences in inner reality, or value both? See: The Ball of Light – A Dream About the Nature of Consciousness and Being) […]

  2. […] We need to remember our oneness as well as our individuality. We need to be able to shift from inner awareness to outer awareness easily to maintain our balance in life. In other words, we need to keep one foot in inner reality and one foot in outer realityat the same time to maintain a healthy perspective. Biological existence demands our attention to detail but there’s no need to completely forget who we are to survive in this reality. When we take time to study our dreams and imaginatively look at the world through other people’s eyes, including our own at other times in our life, we can maintain a healthy balance between inner reality and outer reality. With practice, we will remember that our essential self is just a point of view, and the body we find ourselves in, while unique our own, is simply a vehicle to provide our inner selves, our soul, with the means to express itself in biological terms. Whether the body we’re in is male or female, black or white, old or young doesn’t matter. We are still spiritual beings having a human experience. As such, we all want to be treated with respect for who and what we are. (see The Ball of Light – A Dream About the Nature of Consciousness and Being). […]

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