I open my eyes, disoriented by the dream-state appearances of people from my past who seem to haunt my pursuit of happiness.—This is how I start most days.
So-and-so was in my dream again last night, I write in my daily notes, while waking up with my morning coffee. I am annoyed that I had to see this person again. Undoubtedly, they are not dreaming about me.
My frustration fuels the next set of sentences as I write my resentment for the images of my unconscious.
By page two of three, the dream is forgotten. As I write, I am sucked into the profane world of uncertainty and necessity. By page three, I am impatient to start my day, desperate to achieve my goals and frustrated by the inability to know how.
In this daily practice, my dreams remain unexamined and thus their meaning unrealized. And for the first time I am wondering if this is a mistake.
My first thought is to apologize to the Universe. “I’m sorry,” I say, “for being so dismissive.”
My next thoughts are of regret. I grieve for all the dreams lost because I failed to retrieve their message. What could I have already accomplished if only I had thought to focus on what was, quite literally, at the top of my mind?
Resolved to start paying attention, I placed a notebook and pen on my nightstand. I’ll have to wait until I wake up tomorrow to officially begin my experiment. How long will I have to wait before I see a pattern arise?
Am I even looking for a pattern? I know nothing about dreams and am intimidated by how much there is to learn. Centuries of psychoanalysis, philosophy, and symbolism.
Guided by my 2024 sensibilities, I turned to Reddit for advice on how to get started. The subreddit r/dreams led me to dreamschool.net, where I found a free Crash Course in Dream Interpretation.
I learned the fundamentals of how we dream and the basics for improving my dream recall. I learned that in addition to dreaming in the morning right before I wake up, I have two to three additional dreams a night. And that this explained why I often awake several times in a night for no apparent reason.
I am taught that for accurate dream interpretation, I must be able recall the main components of the dream: the locations, characters, actions and reactions that appeared before my mind’s eye.
The next morning, I remembered only pieces of my dreams. And the more I thought about them, the faster the details slipped through my memory’s grasp.—Was So-and-So there? I think I was crying in the last scene. Alone and confused, in a rush to get somewhere and overwhelmed because I was already late. But I can’t remember where I was going. Or why I needed to get there so quickly.
I woke up suddenly when Justin, fresh out of the shower with a towel around his handsome waist, opened the closet door to pick out a clean t-shirt for the day. He was teasing me for still being in bed.
“I told you,” I said, “I’m trying to figure out my dreams.” He agreed that I’m conducting important research. He is always supportive of my silly ideas.
I flipped to the first page of my blue composition notebook and recorded what I could barely remember. Was So-and-So there again? Or was it Justin who was there with me? …Where were we anyway? Feeling the curtain close to my subconscious, I got up and started my day.
I spent most of my afternoon watching more YouTube tutorials on how to maximize my dream recall and concluded that like anything, it will take practice and patience to master this skill. I am surprised that this does not deter me from wanting to continue my pursute.
The next night I tried a new tactic, keeping my dream notebook open to a blank page and my bedside lamp lit on the lowest level in hopes that when I inevitably wake up at 3 a.m. I can effortlessly record the contents of my mid-night dream. I did wake up, but wrote nothing, sabotaged by my conscious mind that, in my sleepy state, was easily convinced that there was nothing worth recording.
In the morning, I opened my eyes to a still-blank page. Again, only faint details remained. The particular location, characters, actions and reactions of my dreams eluding me once again.
Our dreams are stories, revealed to us each night, through the unconscious expert command of metaphors, symbolism, and imagination. Our dreams know no imposter syndrome and are immune to writer’s block. Our dreams are the ultimate King of Content, churning out multiple episodes a night. Our dreams are cosmically creative and infinitely sourced.
When I think of the sentence, “A dream is…” my brain autocompletes, “a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.” And I feel compelled by girly nostalgia to listen to the full song on Spotify. My inner Disney Princess swoons to the iconic melodies of the 1950 feature length animated masterpiece, Cinderella.
Cinderella sings, “If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish, will come true.”
Cinderella only has one dream. Which I’d imagine makes it a lot easier to remember and thus interpret. As far as I can recall, I have multiple, wildly different dreams every night.
Still, I am inspired by Cinderella’s spirit. I too am “all alone in my own little chair where I can be whatever I want to be.”
What do I want to be?
Each night, I return to my dreams and wish to wake up with the answers.
