DREAMING

I’ve been fascinated by the dream world since I was a child. In my early twenties, I took a deep dive into dreamwork, reading every book I could find on the topic. Soon after that, I discovered lucid dreaming, and my fascination grew tenfold. I started keeping a dream journal, which I quickly filled, and then had to start a dream binder. At one point, before becoming a mother, I was recalling every dream I had each night in so much detail that it would take me over an hour each morning to write them down.

I couldn’t keep up with that pace of dream recall and dreamwork once I began raising my boys. But although I couldn’t focus as much time on it, the pull to remember and analyze my dreams, along with learning new techniques for lucid dreaming, never left me.

Recently, I began reading the book Dreams 1-2-3 by J.M. DeBord. It’s mainly about learning how to interpret your own dream symbology, because the meaning of a dream is unique to the dreamer. I’m only about a quarter of the way into it, but it has already proven to be very helpful.

Sunday night, I had so many dreams, ranging from a few seconds to several minutes long, with so many different settings and symbols. It was like my brain decided to bombard me with as much information to process and interpret as possible. But one dream stood out, and I was able to fully interpret its meaning.

It begins in a room with a few women. They aren’t anyone I can place from waking life, but in my dream, they are my friends. They are seated on couches, talking amongst themselves, no one really noticing me. I walk out of the room, stating that I’ll be right back, although I have no intention of returning.

I walk down a long hallway. It is narrow; the walls are white but not bright. There are no windows or doors. The hallway seems to have little significance—nothing about it stands out. I just want to be through it and in my bedroom.

Once in my room, all I see is the wall and a window. There is nothing else there, almost as if the room itself doesn’t exist. I go over to the window. It is dark outside—only blackness—but I look out anyway. Right outside the window is a beautiful bud, green and closed tight. As I watch it, it turns toward me, as if it is sentient and aware that I am there looking at it. It begins to bloom, petals unfurling, and I feel incredibly special not only to witness this, but also because the flower knows I am watching—almost as if it is blooming for me.

In the background, among the darkness, I notice something fleeting. It’s some kind of cryptid—perhaps a demon or a ghost. It is pale gray, scary looking, and darts behind something. I avert my eyes, not wanting to see it, knowing it will frighten me. I want to focus on the blooming flower, but I am too afraid of seeing the scary thing again. Then the dream ends.

The imagery of the dream was profound and filled with so much symbology. The room of women I chose to leave represents how much I have been isolating lately—partly because of my own issues with self-worth and not really feeling like my presence matters, and partly because I am struggling so much internally that I want to pull away from the world.

The long hallway represents the route between the room of other people and my bedroom. It feels insignificant, but the hallway was long and lonely, and walking down it felt tedious. So it is playing a bigger part in my life right now than I am aware of. Because the bedroom seemed to not even exist, and because I relate my bedroom to my place of sanctuary, rest, and safety, the fact that it didn’t seem to be there at all relates to how unsafe I have felt lately. Even in dreams, I don’t feel like I’m resting or restoring myself.

The blooming flower represents the beauty of the world that I so desperately want to focus on. But the scary figure in the background is all that is going on in the world, and especially in my country right now. It horrifies me to the point that I am struggling to even look for the beauty, for fear of what else I might see.

The overall lesson from the dream is that I must bridge the gap between wanting to isolate and allowing myself to seek comfort in others, even if I feel unworthy or believe that other people don’t care. I have a long hallway to traverse, a bridge to build, to connect my inner need for safety and sanctuary and find that not only within myself, but among people who feel as deeply as I do. And even though I may not be able to fully avoid seeing things that will scare me, I must continue to focus on and seek the beauty.

Because the more I focus on that, the more it will bloom.