Ok, so I decided to formally make one of these. I'll eventually move my other topics here as well. Don't expect it to be updated at regular intervals, though. I'm shy.

Edit: Here's a little background for anyone interested (copied and pasted from the Lucid Experiences forum):

Recently, a question was raised regarding natural Lucid Dreamers. I thought about it for a while and decided to write this and I posted it for anyone else who might be interested. This was all inspired by Aneas’ post (http://www.dreamviews.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=13288), so blame him if I bore you all to tears! ;p

I never really thought about how or why I’m a “natural” dreamer. No, the truth is that I never liked to think about it. I don’t remember the first time I ended up in the dreaming (“dream world”, “astral plane”, or whatever you want to call it. I call it “the dreaming” based upon Neil Gaiman’s Sandman because it made sense to me and it sounds cool). I was way too young and by the time human memory really started to kick in, I had already been doing it for a while. I suppose, like Aneas’ said for himself, that it could have been a coping mechanism for the abuse that I got as a child, too. But that abuse didn’t start until I was about three years old (that I know of). Scratch that theory. And besides, I learned a lot in that world. I feel like a part of me grew up there… sort of like a familiar childhood neighborhood. I really, really feel uncomfortable saying this, but sometimes I feel like I belong there more than I do here…

Ok, I should mention again before I go on that I don’t like to talk about all of this very much. (So please, no PMs asking me to teach you and stuff). All of this just goes to prove that I’m even more different from everyone else than I'd like to admit… But then again, I’ve never met any other natural LDers until recently and you all seem to be open to my weirdness, so maybe it’ll be refreshing to get it all out like this.

When I was a very little girl, I figured out that I could pretty much do what I wanted in the dreaming (within certain limitations of the universe, of course). One of the things I found enjoyment in was flying, and it was something that my human self in the waking world couldn’t do. In the beginning, I would get a running start and leap into the air, flapping my arms like a retard. That worked well for me until I realized that I probably didn’t have to use such a dumb and potentially exhausting method to get airborne. By then I was about… six or seven, maybe? I don’t remember exactly. With a great amount of effort, I was able to hover a few inches from the ground for only seconds at a time before I fell on my ass. It wasn’t flying, however, and that began to frustrate me. It was around that time that I somehow gained a teacher. I’m not sure how I first met him, only that he was there. I will not describe his appearance, nor will I reveal his name because I don’t want to deal with the commentary that may arise from it. So I’ll just call him Father. It’s a fitting name anyway because he became sort of a spiritual father figure to me.

Father was always so patient in his teachings. Like a sensei at their best, he would sit and watch my failures with a slight smile on his lips and determined confidence that I would eventually prevail. Too, he would clap his hands and celebrate my small victories, thus inspiring me to keep on. He not only taught me how to fly but he taught me that I, too, had wings and he showed me how to call them out at will. (Needless to say, my wings helped with my flying considerably. ) He showed me how to create things, how to change things, and how to un-create things, but never to excess. Excess is bad because it disrupts the balance of the universe and causes all sorts of problems. I’ve never had the desire to play “god” or fully manipulate the dreaming anyway, so this proved a relatively easy lesson. In addition to teaching me about the dreaming, Father was often there to comfort me when I needed escape from the horrors of the waking world. On the days when I was beaten up so badly that I could hardly move, Father was there in my dreams, waiting. He would wrap his wings around me and let me cry. He would tell me stories, many stories, about worlds that I had never heard of. He told me that I wasn’t a freak, and that I had a powerful soul. (Even today, I question those words… if my soul is so powerful, why am I stuck in this weak human body?)

Ultimately, he kept my mind from directly facing the abuse I had to endure in the waking world, and it kept me learning. Maybe it’s because of this kindness and patience that I was able to live. Still, I knew that he wouldn’t be around me forever. There was something about him… something about his very being that made me think that he was far more important to the flow of the universe than playing the role of father and teacher to a lost little girl. Even so young, I understood that and I was thankful for the time I had with him. At that point, he was a pivotal figure to my development. Although I miss him terribly, and my heart grows tighter thinking about him, I don’t regret that he made himself known to me. I thank the Goddess for allowing it to happen. I’ve found that She’s quite good at finding loopholes in the grand laws of the universe. (more on this later)

Eventually (and again, I can’t pinpoint the exact time in my life), I was able to step into those other worlds through the dreaming. I learned that the dreaming isn’t always just the subconscious keeping the mind entertained while the body rested. It is also a gateway of sorts, though not every human being that dreamed was able to realize that. Sometimes I would stumble into other places of my own accord and other times I was pulled there by someone or something else. As I had anticipated, Father’s appearances were becoming more and more rare and I was forced to figure things out on my own. Somehow, I continue to fumble my way through the dreaming and all that it entails. I still stumble into other worlds on my own and I’m still called to other worlds by other beings. In fact, I’ve noticed that when I pop into a strange place, it’s usually more due to the latter than the former. Occasionally, I’ve asked said being that summoned me why they summoned me. Their answers are usually cryptic or something stupid like: “Because we need you”. Ok, great. I’m glad someone needs me. So I just sigh and help wherever I can. Most of the time it’s a fight of some sort. I’m glad I was a fighter in a past life and a witch in this one because I’d probably be shit out of luck otherwise.

And that’s that, really. I’ll be happy to answer any questions, but like I asked before: Please no PMs asking me to teach you because I can’t. I’m not capable enough to teach anyone anything. If anything, we can all learn from each other.

Ok, now here’s the “more on this later part”: Father’s name appears quite popularly in the waking world. I first discovered this after I had been in his study for a while. When I was very young, my mother forced me to attend these horrible classes called “CCD”, which is some sort of Catholic studies class that totally ruined my Sundays. Anyway, I was surprised to see that there were a few passages bearing Father’s name written in, of all things, the bible! I remember raising my hand and asking one of the nuns why his name was mentioned there because I knew him and he’d never talked about “god”.

My answer was the resounding laughter of the other children and a rather painful slap on the knuckles by that friggin nun-wielded ruler. And then I had to stand in the corner for an hour… Stupid nuns! They’re crazy I tell you!

Since then, I’ve just kept my mouth shut about him. And about everything else, as well. I already know I’m not normal… I don’t need reminders.

Edit 2: Also, because I don’t want to keep cut-and-pasting past things from the Lucid Experiences forum, I’ll just make a quick list of stuff I’ve already posted (in no particular order) in case anyone is interested. By the way, some of these are very lengthy, so be warned.

The girl and the demons.

The penguin.

Three nights long.

The naga world.

My little one.

In the mind of another.

Help with symbolism.

Stupid puzzle pieces.

Ok, who stopped by last night?

Strange object, a flight, and amnesia.

The suicidal girl.

Talking to dream constructs.

An old recurring dream.

The evil swimsuit.

Hospital dreams.