I can wake up and this won't be broken

Last night I had my first lucid dream in a while.

In some dark city bar I'd had the memory of being in before (but never saw before in my dream), I walked in to find the keyboard/piano that I'd left there the night before was destroyed.

I'd left it there so people could enjoy it and play on it (I guess I'd thought they wanted it). And now it was destroyed — keys missing, parts missing, a hole where all the high keys had been. I freaked out.

Then I tried to play something while some drunk people on the other end of the bar caroused on, uncaring about my material loss. I realized it was missing all the keys I needed to play anything I knew, and an apparent drinking friend came over to survey the damage and not really say anything.

Then I realized: usually I wake up after something like bad this happens — I realize I was dreaming all this time, and wave of relief hits me knowing nothing has changed. “I must be dreaming,” I tell my silent friend, without giving it much more thought. “I can do anything.”

I walked to the front of the bar and said, mostly to myself, “Watch!”

I thought about floating up into the air, and then I did. The drunkards in the corner swung around to see what was going on, and I started to descend slightly as I thought about what else I wanted to do, and the world faded to gray.

Next I was on top of a hill among infinite grassy, rolling hills. I decided to fly again, and hovered, though with more apparent weight this time. But what about people? Could I spend more time with that girl I only knew for a few days? I thought for a while, and sunk slowly back down to the ground.

A few more landscapes faded in and out until I was close to her, in some dimly-lit building, somewhere — maybe that dive bar in Lancaster — like a blend between my nights out with Alice, and her—Camille's—face. Then time started flying by, cutting from us in one place to another, like jumping between memories. We were with friends; traveling; on a boat; in a bedroom; then I started to lose track.

I quickly lost my lucidity and slowly began to wake up, with the last full “memory” of us lingering on my now-conscious brain. Then it faded away for good.