Getting Lost in the Field of Dreams

Have you ever waken up still engulfed in a heavy dream? Maybe it leaves you lingering in a fog, the lines between reality and surreality blurred halfway through your first cup of jo? Perhaps there are even a few dreams you remember for a long time or go so far as to influence your conscious actions (e.g. maybe take the time to tell someone you love them, extend a helping hand to someone in need, approach a situation with more compassion)?

I don’t often have dreams when I sleep, or if I do, I rarely remember them, but since my arrival in the Northern Territory, my mind has been the screen for vivid and memorable nocturnal montages. Science has spent decades exploring the depths of the human subconscious searching for explanations behind the dream phenomenon. About all that really seems to be known at this stage, is that the subconscious is intricate, complex and integral to our conscious mind’s health.

Asleep in my room at Chili’s Backpacker hostel, I awoke abruptly from a deep sleep. Rolling onto my side, I reached for my red travel clock on the floor. It was 3:45 a.m., just a few minutes before I needed to be out the door to the Darwin Airport. Before rushing out of bed as usual, I laid back down on the blue sheets in the dark room still warm from the sub-tropical heat of the prior day. Moments ago I had been deeply involved in a conversation with my grandmother and now I was trying to separate fact from fiction.

“I missed you,” I recall saying, “it is so good to see you.” I hugged her tightly, more consumed by the feelings of seeing her again, than the surrealness of it all. She had died six years ago this month.

“I missed you too,” she said smiling, returning my squeeze, looking happy and healthy.

“Remember Quinn (my old dog) and how he used to love you?” I reminisced as visions of him lying flat on his back next to her flashed through my mind.

“Oh yes, he was such a good dog,” she said fondly, “but now you have to come visit Mr.Livingston?”

Huh? Who is Mr. Livingston and how did he get into this dream? It was as if she was inviting me to visit her new dog in Idaho where she was now residing, completely missing my point of talking about the old days. My dream Grandmother remembered the past, but was clearly living in the present.

Emotions still running high, I tried to make sense of the dream, partly Captain Kirk, entertaining the idea I had just met with my grandmother, and partly Mr. Spock, trying to figure out why I was dreaming about her. Was there something in the recesses of my mind trying to tell me something? Or are dreams a medium for the spirit world to communicate with the living? Or is it just as simple as our minds process and file a lot material while we sleep? And if so, why dream about her now?

I was reminded of another part of my conversation with Chris, the guesthouse proprietor in the Hunter Valley. Over dinner she had shared her vivid dreams of her late husband even two years after his death. In one of her last memorable dreams, she was a waitress at a restaurant. Her husband was a customer at one of her tables. She recognized him immediately and went to the table to greet him and take his order. However, even after being prompted, he no longer recognized her. In his eyes, she was another waitress taking his order.

Waking from the dream, Chris wondered what the dream meant. Was it just a dream? Or did it signify something more? She interpreted it to mean that her husband had moved on and now she should too. Perhaps it was a way of self-healing, moving past or coping with the loss of a loved one. When other people have shared their dreams with me, they report being visited by loved ones reassuring them that they are “ok” shortly after their death

In my dream, my Grandmother was warm, affectionate, but not embroiled in the past, living in the present. Maybe none of it has to do with her, rather it was my subconscious finding a means to process something consciously. For the Aboriginese of the Northern Territory, dreaming plays a central role in their culture. Many sites considered sacred (photographs prohibited) are “dream centers”, once used by tribal leaders to communicate with their ancestors. Their dreams would give them guidance on the next location for a roving village or where to find needed resources.

(Aboriginese call this part of Uluru the "Brain" for obvious reasons. It is not a sacred sight where photos are not permitted.")

A rich cultural history of dreams is not limited to the Aboriginese. In an effort to locate the reincarnated Dalai Lama after his passing, the Tibetans rely in part on visions in dreams. The Native American Indians found dreams of such import that some tribes hung what was called a “dreamcatcher” above the area where they slept. And the list of dreamers goes on, from the Zulu tribe in Africa to the Shamans in Amazonia, dreams played an integral role in their society.

So, why I am dreaming more now? Am I just remembering them because I am less preoccupied with the stresses of daily life? Or is it because I am in a sacred area honored for thousands of years as an important spiritual center. Or is it something more scientific and logical? The Aboriginese, Tibetans and Native American Indians were around long before western culture and they thrived for thousands of years, living as a part of the land with long term sustainability, not short sighted gain. By moving at relative lightning speed from Industrial to Internet Revolution, are we losing access to another native portal for wisdom?

I don't know the answers to the above. Maybe it is a part of the large percentage of our minds that we often hear is not being used. You know, scientists tell us "we only use 10% of our brains." Well, what's going on with the other 90%? Perhaps I should ask Mr. Livingston, or better yet, I think I'll sleep on it.