Digging into Dreams

It’s no secret that I love sleep.  I love the cool sheets, the soft pillows (carefully arranged so that our cat, Boy, can sleep on one while I sleep on the other), the snuggly blanket.  I love pajamas, the awesome quilt I purchased on sale at the Cracker Barrel (yes, that’s right… the Cracker Barrel has gorgeous quilts—along with yummy food), and the way that our other cat Tippy McWetwoods curls up on the penguin Pillow Pet at the foot of the bed while our corgi Mandy snores on her dog bed next to us.  Let’s face it, my whole little family loves to sleep.  But you know what I love most about sleep?  I love dreams.
 
My gramma says that she does not dream.  I just feel awful for her, because for me dreams are an eight (preferrably ten) hour escape into a world my mind creates.  Each night is like a new adventure into the deep recesses of my brain, where many strange and wonderful things happen.  My theory is that two things happen most regularly in dreams.  In the first case, some dreams are simply weird conglomerations of things I’ve seen and heard and experienced throughout the day.  Sometimes I’ll say to my husband, “I had the weirdest dream about a spider last night…” and describe the dream.  He’ll say, “Oh, that’s because last night on television….” and proceed to debunk my dream as a byproduct of a strange commercial or something.  And he’s right.  Sometimes the weird things that sneak into my dream world came straight out of the real world.  Maybe something surprising or disturbing, or something that just stuck for whatever peculiar reason. 

My favorite dreams, however, are the second variety:  Dreams that carry significant meaning either about the past or present.   My criteria for a meaningful dream is that it recurs for several nights or weeks, or it contains familiar images or important people in my life.  I find that my dreams often carry a theme for many weeks or months.  Lately there has been some body of water in every one of my dreams; an ocean, river, or lake regularly plays a prominent role.  Lately I’ve been in many different houses, either trying to clean them, rearrange them, barricade myself in them, or just live in them.  I’ve revisited my college apartment numerous times in the past several months while I sleep.  Rarely does the dream apartment match up with the real one, but in my sleep it all makes perfect sense.  I’ve been in big cities lately, trying to navigate successfully from one part of town to the other, or – much to my chagrin – escape someone dangerous who is pursuing me. 

Because I am fortunate enough to remember my dreams the next day, I also enjoy deconstructing them to figure out what it all means.  I enjoy turning over the details all day like a smooth river rock, examining the people, the events, and the feelings I had.  Most of the time I can’t come to any concrete conclusion, but it’s fun to ponder while I’m brushing my teeth.  My dad gave me a dream interpretation book for my birthday last year called The Element Encyclopedia of 20,000 Dreams by Theresa Cheung.  Essentially the book explains the meaning behind countless dream symbols.  Here’s a bit of what it says about the bodies of water that keep showing up:

• Oceans and Seas:  Represent the unconscious emotions, instincts, or urges that are influencing your attitude, approach, and reactions in waking life.  (The book then goes on to explain the meanings behind various stages or moods of the sea, further breaking down the symbolism.  This book really digs in!).
• Rivers:  Always represent the way you live your life as well as the way you see your life.  The book also indicates if the river is moving fast (which my rivers almost always are), then it indicates that I feel my life is moving too quickly (ain’t that the truth!). 
• Lakes:  Still lakes represent emotional calm.  Fish emerging to the surface indicate the emergence of your intuition.  (I don’t know about that fish one, though.  My lakes are typically teeming with fish, and those fish are big, and scary, and strange, and I typically feel really creeped out).

It’s a fun book to dig into when a particular dream plagues me, but what’s more fun is to just dig deep into my heart to try to figure out what it means to me.  I like solving puzzles, so digging into dreams is like solving a personal mystery.

But the absolute best (and sometimes worst) thing about dreams is being visited by the people who have come through my life.  Recently my grandfather, who passed away in 1991, showed up in a dream.  I don’t now recall exactly what happened, but I do recall it was a nice visit.  And when I awoke, I felt a stronger connection to him, almost like his spirit drew near to me while I slept.  On the flip side, sometimes people I didn’t ever want to see again intrude into my dreams.  Those “visits” leave me feeling agitated for the rest of the day.  Maybe it’s because I have unresolved feelings that my mind is trying to expunge.

When I was in graduate school a few years back, I had to write poetry for a workshop class.  The following poem that I wrote will serve as my conclusion to this little jaunt through dreamland.  If you are fortunate enough to remember your dreams, take a shot at digging out the meaning.  It’s pretty fun!

 

“Five Ghosts”

I.

You showed up last night quite unannounced

and to my surprise because I haven’t

seen you in six years.  I apologized

for not being willing (or able)

to heal your wounds the way that you wanted,

and you hugged me, which felt so sincere.

Your features were so vivid (you wore a red shirt)

that when I awoke I carried you

behind my eyes all day long.

II.

When you arrive all you do is scowl

and find ways to conjure guilt in me

for things you think I did (which I didn’t),

but I try to smooth it over anyway

and fail every time, which is fine

because I don’t really care either way.

III.

Who do you think you are to just barge in

whenever you feel like it even though

the doors are locked, bolted, nailed shut? 

You must slip through a gap like smoke.

And then you go around upturning the furniture

while I stand there in your old T-shirt

and watch.  This spectacle goes on for some time

before you become bored and leave,

leaving the door ajar and me

to put things together again.  But

you’ll do it again because you know

(and I know) that you were my favorite

and I will let you.

IV.

Even though I don’t know you very well

you came (uninvited) and hovered around all night,

showing your face in every scene,

just on the periphery with a silly grin

because you saw me studying you

out of the corner of my eye yesterday for an hour.

You must’ve thought

that this gave you the right

to follow me around for several nights.

V.

It has been fifteen years (nearly half of my life)

since I have talked with you;

you’ve only returned twice, and both times

we just walked.  Under dark green trees

side-by-side, you with your brown-checked flannel

and me with a desire to say things

you probably already know, though sometimes

I worry that I wasn’t clear enough the first time.