I wish I could really explain to you how gravity isn’t always consistent for me. How, when I step onto the foyer, I have to force myself to stay connected with the floor.
“You’re not ready to loose the invisible cords that bind you to this earthly place. You’re not going anywhere without this ball and chain you call your body.”
Afraid of something – death?
And so I rebel, unconsciously.
I leap up out of my skin without telling my brain what I’m doing. And I run into things: walls, furniture, and my own hands. Where you might struggle with trying for lucid dreams, I struggle with not flying away from my body the moment my head hits the pillow.
Staying in my skin is like lassoing reins around each hand just to keep me inside this body.