I was in the dream. “Wow!” I thought to myself, “I’m in the dream!” I was thrilled by the idea of it, I just couldn’t take it in: I was dreaming but I knew that I was dreaming. I was consciously dreaming. “This is fantastic,” I thought, “I’m consciously dreaming.” There was a tremendous feeling of freedom, of liberation in this. I felt lighter in myself, less awkward and ungainly. My touch was lighter – I hardly made contact with the floor as I walked. My senses were heightened too – a whole world of hitherto unnoticed sensory stimuli lay around me, rich and inviting. “This is great,” I said to myself, “I’m awake in the dream.” I was delighted, I was over the moon. I couldn’t get over it. I was on a high. “What a buzz”, I said to myself, over and over again, and “How fantastic is this?” The possibilities were endless. I remembered everything I had ever read about lucid dreaming and I also remembered all my completely fruitless attempts over the last twenty years to achieve lucidity in the dreaming state. Like trying to remember to look at the palms of my hand during the course of a normal, unconscious dream, which is something that I had read about in one of Carlos Castaneda’s books. And now I had actually succeeded – I was awake in the dream! I had achieved lucidity. I felt so great. I felt wildly excited. I felt elated beyond measure. And then after a while it somehow dawned on me that I wasn’t awake in the dream after all. I had been mistaken. I realized then that I was just a bit of a silly old dick-head really. A bit of a plonker. A bit of a tosser. I was actually a total and utter knob-head! I wasn’t awake in the dream at all – I was just dreaming that I was!