realised she might just have dreamed the
feeling and the mark. So that was no proof.
She banged her hand hard on the bedside
table. It felt solid enough and the lamp
jumped and wobbled and nearly fell over
but the dream might have invented the table
and the lamp and made them convincing
enough to seem real. How could she tell?I know, thought Jinny. I know what to do. In
dreams you can fly. And she remembered all
the times she’d flown in her dreams; flying
with Hatty in the great blue sky, flying over
the sea and above the boats, flying through
forests without being seen. This will prove
it, thought Jinny. I’ll see if I can fly. So she
climbed up on the bed and flapped her
arms. Nothing happened. She jumped up
and down and nothing happened. She lay
on her tummy and swam with her arms and
nothing happened. I think I really am awake
this time, she thought. But she fell asleep still
wondering. Could she have dreamed that
she couldn’t fly? Could she have dreamed
that she was dreaming that she was trying
to find out if she was dreaming? Could she?(Sue Blackmore, Jinny Jana’s Giant Journeys, 2016)
Why don’t we realise we are dreaming at the time? This is the oddest and most
frustrating thing about ordinary dreams: that we can fly, drive a Porsche across the
sea, or survive the devastation of an atom bomb, with no insight at all. Sometimes,
however, critical doubt does creep in, prompted by strong emotions, by incongru-
ities in the dream, or by recognising recurring themes from previous dreams (Green,
1968a; Gackenbach and LaBerge, 1988). If we ask the question ‘Am I dreaming?’,
we are having what the English psychologist and pioneer of lucid-dream research
Celia Green calls a ‘prelucid dream’. Even then, it is common for dreamers to give
the wrong answer. There are accounts of people asking dream characters whether
they are dreaming, splitting into two and arguing over whether they are dreaming,
or trying to pinch themselves to find out. Of course, the pinching test fails for those
who dream a dream pinch and feel a realistic dream pain.LUCID DREAMS
When the correct conclusion is reached, the dream becomes a lucid dream, ‘a global
simulation of a world in which we suddenly become aware that it is indeed just a
simulation’ (Metzinger, 2009, p. 140) – a tunnel whose inhabitant realises it is a tunnel.‘In lucid dreams, part
of the brain operates
in the primary mode
while another has
access to secondary
consciousness’
(Voss et al., 2013, p. 9)
some regular experiencers learn to prevent sP by avoid-
ing sleeping on their back and getting regular sleep. When
it occurs, the best way to cope is just to relax and wait
for it to stop, which it usually does within a few seconds,
although it is difficult to follow this advice if you are ter-
rified. other methods include trying to move just a little
finger or toe, or blinking rapidly.
many cultures have sleep paralysis myths, such as the
incubus and succubus of medieval lore, and the seduc-
tive Babylonian Lilitu or demoness of the wind. the
‘old Hag’ of newfoundland is ‘the terror that comes
in the night’ (Hufford, 1982), sitting on victims’ chests
and trying to suffocate them. the same experience is
called Kanashibari (meaning ‘to tie with an iron rope’)
in Japan, Ha-wi-nulita (or being squeezed by scissors)
in Korea, and Kokma (attacks by the spirits of unbap-
tised babies) in st Lucia. the latest sP myth may be
alien abductions, which include all the usual features
of paralysis, suffocation, floating sensations, sense of
presence, touches on the body, and vibrating or hum-
ming noises. It seems that peoples in many times and
places have invented myths and entities to account for
this common physiological occurrence. For a personal
account, read Ronald siegel’s chapter ‘the succubus’
(1992, pp. 83–90).