Dreams, Memory and Interpretation.

Here's one for the "things to be thankful for case-file":

I rarely remember my dreams. That's not the thing that I am particularly thankful for today. No. Rather I am glad that the dreams I do remember don't turn out to be reality. Today I recall much of what I dreamed last night.

Relating dreams is always a tricky proposition. A lot of people simply tune out as soon as they figure out that you want to tell them about a dream you had. I understand that because I usually have a similar urge to think about something else (like bills I have to pay, or having to go to the bathroom) when someone starts relating a dream. It's not that dreams are not interesting... it's that they are rarely interesting to anyone who didn't have them. Because of the way dream logic seems to work, they are often arbitrary and irrationall... and what makes them fascinating while you are dreaming them... makes them deadly dull in the telling. But we seem to have a deep-seated (or is it seeded) need to attempt to understand this phenomena... even if we believe that dreams are merely the result of random firing in our brains. So even though we know that others' stories of them are rarely captivating, we continue to share them with each other.

Perhaps it's the fact that dreams are so visually-oriented that keeps them from being transferable. The only sensory data they contain is either visual or auditory. It's often futile to convey the wonder of the visions that our sleep offers us. They are constantly shifting and undulating. People change their identities... places fade abruptly and are replaced by others... and our potentialities become quite limitless... if we could only harness our intentions in service of that great possibility. Our emotions and relationships subtly affect the plotlines, in ways that are more symbolic than literal. How do we make sense out of such seemingly chaotic data?

Of course some love the challenge of interpretation. Jung and Freud made careers out of dream analysis. They certainly believed that dreams hold the keys to self-understanding. And who am I to doubt such luminaries of thought and mind? They've left such an indelible mark on our culture. So without further expository ramblings, I offer you my best recollection of last night's dream...


I was at some outdoor event, surrounded by friends. We were sitting uncovered along rows of picnic tables. I was playing chess against an anonymous opponent... on a board that rose from the table on layers of mechanized obscurity. The next thing I was aware of was the aftermath of an explosion... although I had no experience of any disruption. I began to examine myself and noticed strange protrusions on my arms. They were t-shaped heads of metal, about the width of a paper clip. I grabbed the top of one and pulled... there was a lot of painful resistance. As I extracted the first piece, I was amazed by it's length- at least three inches. It had a sheath of blood-tinged mucus, and when I reached its end, it exited with a slurping sound. A splattering of deep red blood followed. I continued to discover more of these skewers up and down both of my arms. I had a progressive sense of satisfaction in removing each one. Some resulted in little blood, and others yielded a thick glob that one could spoon like pudding. As if searching for fleas, I would gain confidence that I had gotten them all... only to find another one.

Having finally finished my task... I sought a place to wash out the small pin-hole wounds that were left. I remember being confounded by the risk of infection. At first my arms seemed only minimally effected by the stigmata. But in time-lapse fashion, the skin around the holes started to sag and turn gray in quarter-sized blemishes. I imagined that it was much the same as if I had been bitten by a nest of brown recluse spiders. I awoke with the hope that these unsightly scars would soon heal.

Dear readers... what meaning can we draw from this dream?



Note: If you are interested in dreams and their depictions... I have some recommendations for you:

Carl Jung's Memories, Dreams and Reflections is a memoir of the eminent psychologist's life, and is a great introduction to his thinking about archetypes, dreams and synchronicity.

Richard Linklater's film Waking Life is a compelling meditation on lucid dreaming and the effect of nocturnal wanderings. It uses rotoscope animation to create a unique ambience that effectively engages the viewer subconscious.

Jesse Reklaw is a comics artist whose work centers around an idea in the "Why-the-hell-didn't-I-think-of-that?" mode. He solicits dreams, and illustrates them in a daily comic strip. Check out his work at Slow Wave.