Another one from my old collection. It’s been a while since I last read this book, but I remember finding it fascinating, so I thought it deserved a spot on my blog. Naturally, I’m rereading it.
The concept of this book revolves around a wheel—the Wheel of Consciousness. This wheel moves, in general, according to our biological clock, following a 24-hour cycle. Sometimes, it turns faster; at other times, it moves more slowly.
The book is divided into two parts: Night and Day. From there, it splits further into segments of the “pie” (or wheel). First up: Night, starting with its opening chapter:
Hypnagogia
There aren’t many books dedicated to hypnagogia. I did review one recently (Liminal Dreaming) that dives deeply into the subject. It’s only in recent years that writers have started focusing entire books on this topic, which is great for those who want a comprehensive look. But for anyone not ready to commit to a full book, this chapter provides an excellent summary.
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| Image by Jeff Warren |
The chapter covers the history, research, and personal experiences of the author. At times, the randomness of his hypnagogic experiences made me laugh because of how relatable they are. I, too, have noticed the silly, dreamlike associations that can appear—an automatic stream of words, symbols, or things, like the Mad Hatter trying to compose a poem. I recognized so much in his observations. He describes it as “a poor man’s psychedelic trip” until another phenomenon sets in: sleep paralysis.
Sleep paralysis is another subject that’s gained attention in recent years, yet there are still very few books about it. (One in particular has caught my eye—review coming later!) I especially appreciated the accuracy of this book’s explanation. Considering it was written in 2007, it feels ahead of its time:
It’s a fascinating observation: culture-bound experiences. Even now, nearly 20 years later, some writers fail to acknowledge this. The chapter goes on to discuss the four stages of hypnagogia according to Andreas Mavromatis, techniques for using hypnagogia for creative problem-solving, and a theory about its role in memory consolidation. For example: the lingering sensation of snowboarding after a trip, hearing Minecraft sounds after hours of play, or seeing Tetris blocks long after shutting off the game.
"We can watch our brains build new associations on the fly."
The Slow Wave
This chapter is much shorter than the one on hypnagogia, which makes sense. The slow wave refers to deep sleep, where not much happens consciously. Theories about deep sleep range from temperature regulation to immune system upkeep. There’s also evidence we can dream during this phase, though the dreams tend to be abstract and dull. Despite countless books on the subject, no definitive answers exist about why deep sleep is essential.
The Watch
It’s funny that I happened to read this chapter during a spontaneous “way-back-to-bed” moment. The Watch refers to a bimodal sleep pattern: first sleep and second sleep. This was once common but has been disrupted by modern routines, like artificial light, coffee, and shorter nights. Segmented sleep is now rare and often considered a disorder.
"The point is that eight hours of consolidated sleep is really one option among many, and we likely do ourselves a disservice when we insist on its universality."
The REM dream
This chapter dives into dreaming—the most intriguing part of sleep for many.
"In fact, dreams are often so wildly associative that wherever your gaze rests in a dream becomes the new center of narrative gravity."
Fascinatingly, people with vivid imaginations tend to have vivid dreams, while those with mundane lives often dream about mundane things. Want more exciting dreams? Enrich your waking life with creative pursuits. I’m tempted to try this myself—reading more fantasy books, perhaps, or exploring new hobbies.
The chapter also discusses theories on REM sleep: memory consolidation, emotional processing, and even ancestral skill rehearsal. Still, I found myself wanting more from this section. The next chapter, however, promises something special:
The Lucid Dream
This chapter opens with a review of the NovaDreamer, a device for inducing lucid dreams. Sadly, it’s no longer available, and alternatives lack its REM-detection capabilities. The NovaDreamer was ahead of its time, but its obsolescence means this section feels dated.
Next comes a history of lucid dreaming, including Stephen LaBerge’s groundbreaking research in the 1970s. It’s astounding to think how long ago this research began, yet many still dismiss lucid dreaming as pseudoscience.
LaBerge’s workshop and techniques, like MILD, are explored here. He notes that dream time aligns closely with real-world time:
"Estimated dream time corresponded almost exactly to estimated time in the real world. When dreams create the sensation that hours or days or weeks have passed, says LaBerge, they’re using the same set of tricks that film directors use: lots of splicing and editing, and, of course, an implicit narrative assumption (aka schema) that “time is passing."
I’ve noticed this in my own lucid dreams. I can often tell when REM sleep is ending, which motivates me to wrap up dream tasks before waking.
This chapter, while insightful, is more introductory than in-depth—appropriate for the book’s purpose as a broad exploration of consciousness rather than a lucid dreaming manual.
Up next: Day time, with the first stop...
The Hypnopompic
This chapter mirrors the one on hypnagogia, covering the same phenomenon but in reverse—it occurs as you wake up rather than when you fall asleep. The explanation is concise and effective, pointing readers back to the earlier chapter on hypnagogia for more detail.
The Trance
Hypnosis has been a subject of controversy for years. Can everyone be hypnotized? Is it even real? These debates complicate research efforts. In this chapter, Jeff explores whether he can be hypnotized while addressing common misconceptions (like the stereotypical pocket watch).
The Daydream
"Like the hypnagogic state, it’s a good time to cultivate new creative associations, to jump off the oppressively linear reason train and set off perpendicular to your normal waking course."
The SMR
The sensorimotor rhythm (SMR) represents a calm, alert state of focus. This chapter delves into neurofeedback techniques for training the brain to access this state. Jeff also touches on animal testing used in related research, though this part wasn’t for me—I skipped ahead, uncomfortable with the imagery.
"Positive feedback can get you performing better, but negative feedback can send you into a downward spiral. This is the double-edged sword of self-regulation."
It’s a universal truth applicable beyond SMR, tying into broader themes of personal development. Jeff’s journey with SMR takes a detour, and the chapter becomes speculative, reflecting his mixed results with the technique.
"You have to believe it will work to get the most out of it. Beliefs also have a reality in the brain. They can make or break the whole show."
It’s an interesting point, though his frustration at this stage becomes palpable.
The Zone
"If the task is too easy you get bored; too difficult you freak out. Flow is finding that sweet spot at the top end of your abilities."
This short chapter succinctly defines flow—a state many have experienced but struggle to articulate. Whether in sports, hobbies, or creative work, flow arises when focus and challenge align perfectly.
The pure conscious event
The last chapter reads a bit like the second part of Eat Pray Love. The meditation retreat, the neighborhood, the ground rules—it sets the stage for what you can expect. Jeff observes his surroundings, shares his own impressions, and notes what others experience. However, after a few pages, the pace starts to drag. Let’s face it—meditation, while transformative, doesn’t always make for riveting reading. From there, the focus shifts to neuroplasticity and how meditation can bring about long-term changes in the brain.
Then came the sheep incident. Why scare a sheep on a meditation retreat? It really made me question his intentions. But perhaps this kind of impulsive behavior is why some people seek retreats in the first place. They’re there to confront patterns like this and, ideally, grow from them. It’s almost amusing to watch Jeff get lost in his thoughts, though I found myself waiting for him to circle back and deliver something more insightful:
"What I’m trying to say here is that maybe human frontal lobe use is still evolving, and maybe the Buddhists and the rest of the meditators are at the leading edge."
Word. He touches on actions we can take to change society, but then drifts back into what feels like angry egocentrism. Honestly, I get it. During the early years of my meditation journey, I found myself constantly angry too.
That said, it seems like he’s struggling more as the book nears its end. The earlier chapters flowed effortlessly, but the sections on daytime experiments feel more strained. The emotions seep through the writing, and his thoughts become longer and noticeably more scattered. Perhaps he didn’t achieve the outcomes he was hoping for? Maybe he was trying too hard, setting expectations too high? It’s not uncommon for someone to leave a retreat feeling disappointed when they don’t uncover some hidden treasure trove of wisdom.
And no, Buddha definitely doesn’t have a rasta accent.
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| Image by Jeff Warren |
Conclusion
Although he lost me a few times—particularly when his own train of thought seemed to derail—the concept of the book is excellent for anyone just beginning to explore the states of consciousness. It’s like reading a menu and choosing a favorite dish to start with. Each state has its own unique potential, and together they offer a lifetime of possibilities to explore.
★★★☆☆
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