Dreaming With Eyes Wide Open

The first time I ever heard about lucid dreaming, it didn’t come from a scientist or a new-age guru. It came from a rock ballad. Silent Lucidity by Queensrÿche drifted through the speakers one night and knocked something loose in me. The lyrics weren’t just poetic, they sounded like a promise. A whispered dare: you can wake up inside your dreams. I didn’t really understand what that meant. But I wanted to. In my life there were no safe places. Trauma has a way of hijacking your nights, turning dreams into horror films you didn’t buy tickets for. Lucid dreaming became my escape hatch. My tool. My weapon. Instead of being dragged through the same nightmare reels on repeat, I could push back. I could flip the script. I could say no to the monster chasing me and fly off instead. Or better yet, sit down with it and demand answers. Lucid dreaming gave me agency where there had been none. And it still does.

So, yeah…thank you, Queensrÿche. You delivered a prog metal initiation that handed over the most important survival tool I’d ever find.

So what is lucid dreaming, really?

At its core, it’s simple: you realize you’re dreaming while you’re still in the dream. That moment of recognition, wait a second, this is a dream, is a switch-flip. Suddenly you’re not just a character stumbling through dream logic. You’re the director. It doesn’t always look glamorous. Sometimes you try to soar into the sky and end up hovering like a confused Roomba. Sometimes your dream crush melts into your first lover… (Parachute pants and everything…Thanks, subconscious…) But when it works? It feels like stepping into your own private universe with unlimited special effects.

Why bother learning this skill?

Most people first get interested because it sounds fun. It is. Flying, shapeshifting, bending physics to your will. It’s like a cosmic sandbox with no rules and no consequences. But lucid dreaming has so much more to offer than dream based joyrides.

Therapeutic.

For trauma survivors, this one is huge. Nightmares don’t have to be the final word. Once you’re lucid, you have options. You can stop running, pause the scene, or even walk right up to the thing chasing you and demand to know what it represents. Sometimes you fight it. Sometimes you laugh at it. Sometimes you just leave…and little by little, your brain rewires. Sleep stops being a nightly ambush and becomes a space where you can practice courage, calm, or even play. That shift doesn’t just stay in dreams; it follows you into waking life. I can’t oversell how much that mattered to me. Lucid dreaming didn’t erase my trauma, but it gave me something I’d never had before: choice.

Creative.

Some of the greatest hits of human culture showed up in dreams. Paul McCartney literally woke up with Yesterday in his head. Salvador Dalí perfected the art of catching images from the edge of sleep with his spoon trick. He would fall asleep, drop a spoon onto a plate, wake up in the liminal haze, and paint what he saw. Nikola Tesla? He’d build inventions in his head during lucid or hypnagogic states, tweak them until they worked, then build them in real life. They ran almost exactly as he dreamed them.

My dream world doubles as a studio. I finish each oracle, and tarot card design in that lucid space before ever touching a pencil. I walk through a gallery in my dream, check the colors, change the imagery, and fine-tune details. By the time I wake up, the piece is already complete in my mind.

Dreams aren’t static. They can be canvases, laboratories, rehearsal halls…and lucid dreaming hands you the keys.

Practical.

This is the part that surprises people: you can practice actual skills in dreams, and it helps. Athletes rehearse mentally all the time, and lucid dreaming takes that to the next level. Nervous about a speech? Deliver it in a dream. Learning piano? Practice fingering there. Even motor skills benefit, because your brain activates many of the same pathways as if you were awake. It’s like having a personal simulator that never charges a subscription fee. So yes, use lucid dreaming to fly naked through the clouds if you want. But also know you can use it to heal, to create, to train, and to build a relationship with yourself that’s deeper than anything you’ll find doomscrolling at 2 a.m.

The science (yes, it’s real)

This isn’t just new-age fluff. Lucid dreaming has receipts. Back in the 1980s, Stephen LaBerge made lucid dreamers signal their awareness by moving their eyes in a specific pattern once they “woke up” inside their dreams. Their actual sleeping eyes twitched in the same rhythm. Proof, right there in the lab. Today, brain scans show that when people go lucid, their prefrontal cortex, the part that handles self-reflection and decision-making, lights up. To put it plainly: part of your brain literally wakes up while you’re still dreaming.

So the next time someone rolls their eyes and says, “Lucid dreaming isn’t real,” just smile. Science has already RSVP’d.

So how do you actually do it?

Everyone wants the secret formula. The truth is, it’s a mix of patience, awareness, and a little trickery. Here’s how most people start:

First, you need to remember your dreams. If you can’t recall them, you’ll never know if you went lucid. Keep a journal. Write anything, even fragments. “Weird mall chase, giant pigeon, fountain explosion.” Over time, you’ll start recognizing patterns, and that’s gold.

Then, build the habit of reality checks. Look at your hands. Pinch your nose and try to breathe through it (if you can, you are dreaming.). Read a line of text, look away, read it again. (In dreams, text usually scrambles itself). Look at your hands (in dream state your hands will look like AI; fingers too long/short, too many, not enough, etc). Do these checks often enough in waking life, and eventually you’ll do one in a dream. That’s when the lightbulb goes on.

Once you’re lucid, the trick is staying there. Excitement is the number one eject button. You realize you’re dreaming, your brain shouts OH MY GOD I DID IT, and, boom, you’re awake. To prevent that, ground yourself. Rub your hands together, spin in a circle, or zero in on tiny details like textures or colors. It tells your brain, we’re still in here. And then? Play. Heal. Paint tarot decks. Talk to the monster in your closet. Whatever you came for.

The weird pitfalls (because of course there are some)

Lucid dreaming isn’t all wonder and victory laps. Sometimes it’s just weird. Like the dreaded premature wake-up: you realize you’re dreaming, and snap, you’re back in bed. Or sleep paralysis, where you wake before your body does. It can feel like something’s sitting on your chest, and yeah, it’s creepy as hell. It’s harmless, and often you can use it to slip right back into a lucid dream.

…and then there’s dream ego. Yes, you can become an all-powerful god in your dreams. But maybe don’t let that bleed into dinner conversation. Nobody wants to hear about your dream Lamborghini for the fifteenth time.

Ethics, even in dreams

Here’s a spicy thought: what you do in dreams matters, at least to you. Sure, technically you can do anything. But dreams mirror back your unconscious. If every lucid dream is violence, domination, or cruelty, it’s worth asking what part of you you’re rehearsing. That doesn’t mean you have to be squeaky clean. It does mean paying attention. Your dream world is a mirror, sometimes warped, sometimes brutally honest.

Advanced dream nerdery

Once you’ve got the basics, you can go deeper.

Some people try WILD (wake-induced lucid dreaming), where you carry your awareness from wake straight into a dream. It’s hard mode, and it often involves walking through sleep paralysis, but when it works it’s seamless.

Others experiment with supplements like vitamin B6, and  AChEIs (acetylcholinesterase inhibitors) like galantamine, and donepezil to boost dream vividness. Science says results are mixed, and honestly, a good dream journal is more reliable than pills in my opinion (though uping your B vitamins does a world of good for your brain in general).

Then there’s meditation. The more mindful you are in waking life, the quicker you notice when dream logic doesn’t add up. Awareness carries over.

The funny side of lucidity

Because let’s be real: even when it’s serious, lucid dreaming is hilarious. You try to fly majestically and instead flop around like a drunk pigeon. You summon a loved one, and they appear, but as a sock puppet. You tell a dream character, “You’re not real,” and they shoot back, “Neither are you.” Dreams have a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes they’re better comedians than philosophers.

Awake in both worlds

Lucid dreaming is more than a gimmick. It’s a bridge between conscious and unconscious, between fear and freedom. For me, it started with Queensrÿche and grew into a survival skill, an art studio, and sometimes just a joyride across the cosmos. It’s not about escaping reality, it’s about exploring yourself in ways you didn’t know were possible.

Your dreams are the most intimate stage you’ll ever stand on. Why not take the mic?

Further reading

If you’re ready to dig deeper, here are some suggestions:

• Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming — Stephen LaBerge & Howard Rheingold
• Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self — Robert Waggoner
• Dreams of Awakening — Charlie Morley
• Anything by Andrew Holecek on dream yoga
• And yes, even Reddit’s r/LucidDreaming (shockingly wholesome for Reddit)