The open lecture you attended during your last days with Bear must have made a deep impression because the tentative attempts you have since made to become lucid in your dreams have not gone unnoticed by your eagle-eyed housekeeper.
Unbeknownst to you, you have succeeded twice and on both occasions have failed dismally to employ the advice that was imparted to you by that pseudo-guru fellow. He told you to commit no acts of violence during lucidity because you would only be inflicting harm upon your own subconscious but have a look at what you did:
You were a teenager threading his way through the centre of Johannesburg in an attempt to map out the speediest route to your new school. You were exploring what some might refer to as an “undesirable part of town” when you ignored the signs that warned of impending robbery.
You climbed up a fleet of stairs and were greeted by a welcoming party of disaffected youths in various states of undress. The one in the school tie wasted no time in posing a riddle you sensed would have unfavourable implications regardless of the correctness of your answer.
“Hamburger or bridge?” were the ridiculous options you were given and since you were on a bridge, you replied, “Bridge.” He proceeded to rifle through the outer pockets of your rucksack which led you to assume that he would have started on the inside had you said, “Hamburger.”
It was while the ragamuffin was sifting through your belongings that you became lucid by looking down at your hand to realise a finger was missing. Once you had acknowledged that you were operating within the safe confines of the dream-world, you grabbed the scoundrel’s hand and klapped him for his impudence. It was only when he reached for a concealed knife that you played your trump-card and ejected back into consciousness.
In a similarly tight situation, that guru fellow stood stock still while a raging bull charged at him in a dream. It stopped at the last second, at which point the guru requested it for an interview with his subconscious. He discovered that the bull was symbolic of the destructive relationship he had with his father.
What do you think would have happened had you requested that criminal for five minutes to have a quiet word with yourself? Doubtless you would now be a little familiar with the plight of pincushions out there. In dreams you have been shot, bitten by dogs, and have fallen from buildings so you know the pain of being stabbed would not have been any milder.
This is where I should be telling you to “trust your subconscious because it only wants to be your friend” but I am no guru and from what I have seen, your subconscious is seething. It is thwarted at every attempt to express anger by our combined efforts so I think it is safe to assume that we should play far away.