The Daemon

I woke up around 3 am, and then went back to sleep.  I remember the interesting new meditation instruction to consider the focus of the meditation that which presents itself that appears the most expansive and open ended.  If that makes any sense, lol.  Anyway, that night what presented itself was the imagined spherical location of light in the back of my head.  This seemed to drop me pretty quickly into a lucid dream where I was floating in a room on my back with my hands and legs up. This time I could move about the room, but I still felt like I couldn't go anywhere other than the dark room, even though I was trying.  This was somewhat of an improvement from before where I couldn't move or didn't remember that I had the ability to move.  

I realized that I was in the grip of something, and first thought that it was some sort of alien restraining both my hands and feet from above.  Then I looked more closely at the face, and it had two eyes, but no nose or mouth.  Still I wasn't afraid for some reason, but I remember thinking I need to send this entity love.  Which I did.  Then I looked at its eyes and they seemed to react to my intentions by tearing up slightly.  Of course, this was barely noticeable as there could be no expression from a face that had no eyes or a nose.

At some point later, I screamed, which came from nowhere.  I don't remember being afraid before that.  Which woke up my father who was much younger in this dream, who came in the room I was in wearing underwear.  He was talking to me, but I don't remember what he was saying.  It was all non sense.  That's about all I remember for now.

Hmm, the whole idea of the faceless Daemon is sort of interesting.  As if I am being held (restrained) by some aspect of me that cannot speak of what it knows.  But at least I showed it love, maybe someday it will release its grip over me.    The Woo Woo  Carlyle interpretation is also interesting, suggesting that I am being asked to step into my silent power.  But more specifically, and here is my spin, that my insight is not verbal, for really what are words but throwaway approximations of the unspeakable awesomeness of being that permeates everything.