It feels like my breathing still has not returned to normal after waking up from dreams that felt far too much like reality to be easily accepted as mere thoughts in my brain. Just last night I was having a conversation about dreams with my parents - about what they could possibly be - since there is no solid facts proving just what dreams are and where exactly they come from. I have heard many times that they are just excess thoughts that our brain throws out during the night in order to "discard" them or clear up space in our mental hard drive. But I have a hard time believing that such vivid, imaginative, and sometimes frightening things could simply be thoughts that my brain needs to "toss out".
And then my Dad, who has read just about every science fiction novel ever written, said, in a somewhat joking manner, "When we dream we're no longer in this universe but we enter into a whole other realm altogether". I knew he was mostly kidding, he's no New Ager, but I couldn't help but agree quite solemnly that that is the only plausible answer I've ever heard. I do think that dreams are far more spiritual than cerebral. Just think back to the stories about people's dreams in the Bible. They were not taken lightly and dismissed as "random thoughts" but every once in a while someone had a dream that was so significant that it foretold the future for an entire nation! Not to say that back then every dream that was dreamt by a person, sleeping, had great meaning or profundity, but surely those records are proof that dreams and spirituality are deeply intertwined.
Last night I dreamt about war. I now know the heart-pounding fear that is present when living in a war-torn country. Oddly enough, though, my dream took place right here in Seattle. I started out walking down Pine St. towards the waterfront with a few close friends, and although when we left Capitol Hill there was no evidence of anything destructive taking place, we were soon shocked and terrified to see that the downtown buildings were bombed-out, busses had suffered great explosions, and people were lying dead in the street and on the sidewalks. It was chaos. Blood painted the pavement red and bodies had been turned inside out. Someone, some savagely violent group of people, was not going to stop until the devastation was absolute.
Trying to put this picture into words is difficult because in my awake state I have not the creativity or vocabulary to accurately portray the utter havoc that took place in my dream. I felt scared. I felt so many things that I have never felt in my waking life. It was a war and I was in the midst of it, frightened for my life, that I would be the next victim of a careless shotgun.
We finally made it safely down the filthy street to what I thought would be the same waterfront that has always bordered the Seattle city limits - ports and mountains in the distance, ferry boats carrying passengers to their islands. But when we arrived it was like a giant promenade had been built and looking outward the Puget Sound had become a vast ocean that smashed against the concrete barrier on which we now stood. The sun, sinking low but trying desperately to give light through the black clouds, made the ocean look even more forebearing and black itself. It churned and laughed at us as if to say, "You thought you survived that mess in the city? Now try to escape from my merderous waters!" It jeered at us and we knew there was no hope.
The dream did not end there, but it would take hours to write all the details. It was, overall, a dream that I hope never comes true. The only glimpse of hope in it at all was the friends I had around me; We protected each other and sheltered each other from the falling rubble. Had I been alone in the dream I don't doubt I would never have even made it to see the water - what felt like the end of the earth.
My dream doesn't prove anything about what dreams are or where they come from, it just felt significant enough for me to attempt to open up discussion about dreams with other people who, like me, wake up every morning, or in the middle of the night, and think, "Wow, what just happened?", because not everyone is fortunate enough to remember where they have been in that "other universe" that we slip into during sleep.
If you would, share with me your opinions about dreams - what do you think makes them so crazy or noteworthy? Everyone loves hearing about people's dreams. Like my best friend Nicole unfailingly asks me when we see each other in the morning: What were your dreams last night?
2 comments:
hmmm. good questions. i have very vivid dreams as well: sometimes good, sometimes scary, sometimes real and sometimes ridiculous.
either way, i know it's not just my brain winding down at night.
"Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who sport on earth in the night season, and melt away in the first beam of the sun, which lights grim care and stern reality on their daily pilgrimage through the world." -Charles Dickens
didn't know you had a blog. keep posting!
On the subject of Dreams: i wrote something painfully, profoundly, & endlessly clever, with a dash of cynicism. But i suppose my sub-conscience had a differeing opinion. For, instead of hitting [apple-A] to select all then copy my 'brillinat' text, i hit [apple-Q] and terminated my musings.
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That being said: [in my humbled experience/opinion], Dreams are a balled mass of raw clay. The color and consistancy may change from night to night, but its in the hands of the dreamer to create what they will. That is to say, if they ever pick up the clay at all.
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Like everything in this life, dreams are just another tool for the taking. another excuse to make something of beauty or ugliness [i think many forget that ugly can be the truest of beauties]BUT, who really knows, thats just what i off handedly molded for today's topic.
keep posting-- we need to catch up soon.
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