DREAMS

     

      It was Sigmund Freud who called dreams 'the Golden Highway to the unconscious mind'. In my studies and sessions with counsellors, I have come increasingly to realise the value of this statement and to appreciate the importance of dreams as an opportunity of gaining some insight into the effects of the impressions made by my up-bringing on my unconscious self during my formative years.

      For me, dreams are not just arbitrary things which occur while we sleep, which have no intrinsic meaning. They can be a valuable and useful tool which can be harnessed to inform of who we are and of how we have been conditioned.

      Of course, in the Bible – whether as a literary ploy or otherwise - dreams are given importance in terms of foretelling the future usually by way of informing or warning the recipient of impending events.

Here dreams are a means of communication – usually between a supernatural and a natural being. When in the church, I used to come across people who claimed to have been given a particular dream which they believed had an especial significance either for an individual or for the church as a whole. Such occasions were not common but did happen – often ending without the anticipated fulfilment being played out.

      In my experience I have come to understand dreams not as having supernatural significance, as they are portrayed in the Bible, but as a means whereby the unconscious can communicate with the conscious within ourselves – 'the Golden Highway to the unconscious mind'.

      I am told that we all dream but that the degree to which we can recall our dreams depends on how repressed we are. This may be true. I once knew a man who I thought was very repressed. Interestingly, this man claimed never to dream. Dreams are often fleeting and others can stay with us. Sometimes forgotten dreams flash into our consciousness, our memory of them activated by certain triggers.

      If I were to give my own dreams genres, I guess many of them would fall into the action/adventure category; some would be labelled thrillers and others suspense. Very rarely will I have what could be called an horror dream or nightmare. Many of my dreams could be labelled 'repeat' – not so much the dreams themselves but the themes they convey. Often I will awake after a dream and remember it vividly but know that if I do not write it down there and then my memory of it will be failing in the morning so I keep a dream diary and often discuss my dreams with my therapist     

If I'm dreaming my mind is processing, I'm reliably informed – a bit like the defragging process on a computer, I suppose, putting all the splintered memories and influences in to some kind of order; flagging some of them up for attention, perhaps.

      So, if we are to make any sense of our dreams, how are we to interpret them? There are lots of suggestions available, with which I am sure most of us are familiar, which seek to associate certain images with well defined meanings. For me, though, the one single most effective formula in helping me to understand my dreams has been this – that each part of my dream represents something about myself. When applying this rather exclusive approach to my dreams their meaning often becomes quite clear and, importantly, the interpretation feels right. Occasionally, some meanings may remain obscure and I have to trust that greater clarity will come in time but, in the main, this method seems to work for me.

      Recognising that my dreams hold an intrinsic value and coming to understand this has facilitated greater awareness of some of the principle driving forces in my unconscious self - forces like grief, sadness, anger, rage and loneliness. These have been largely hidden but dominant emotions exerting a powerful influence on my conscious life, determining my likely response to any given stimulus yet simultaneously remaining hidden from conscious view.       

    

However, in becoming increasingly aware of these deep routed 'determinators' – through a better understanding of my dreams as well as through other forms of therapy – I find that I bring them more into my conscious mind and by learning to be more ready to recognise and observe their symptoms instead of allowing myself to be taken up with them I can create space – space in which to detach from their effect and to begin to observe how these feelings play out in my behaviour, thoughts and emotions; space in which to learn to hold them in check, to become more acquainted with them rather than driven by them; space to effectively allow their presence as part of who I am but to disengage from their ruling influence; space, I believe, to eventually begin to allow stillness, healing and compassion to flow.