I could only take this about ten pages at a time before I found myself feverently wishing that the author is exposed in The Sun as a wife beater or something. Lucid Dreaming? Taylor, unlike McKenna, has veered more toward the Anthony Robbins school of Live Your Dreams Through Having Enough Money to Fly a Helicopter, Shag a Barbie Wife, Ten Cars, Big Mansion and Be Considerably - Considerably - Richer Than You Are. Oh, and more spiritually aware too. He's another one I secretly want to be found in an exotic brothel, bound by dwarves, exposed in the National Enquirer.