Sometimes, in dreams, we are offered an opportunity to sink into some really juicy experiences.
Naturally, those of us who are actively engaged in remembering our dreams get to spend more “time” in such experiences.
I’ve found that dream journaling allows me to stretch out the positive experiences of good dreams. Sometimes, it’s only in the telling of the dream that I even realize how good the dream actually made me feel.
Essentially, in dream journaling I have found a way to, first, discover a dream made me feel good, and then, optimize the joy or pleasure of a good dream and make it last longer by dwelling in the images and encounters of the dream the next day.
You can, too. It’s starts with keeping a dream journal. (And can extend well beyond journaling by incorporating contemplative practices into your morning rituals. More on that in a later article.)
What do I mean by “juicy” dream? I mean rich in feeling. In the dream, you may have the sensation of “being there,” facilitated by vivid imagery, and strong sense impressions. Whether or not this juicy dream is a “good dream,” however, will vary from person to person, of course, and is individual to you.
As a child, a good dream may have to do with receiving love or generosity from our parents or a friend. As a teen, a good dream may be one in which we wake up feeling accepted or part of a group. As adults, good dreams may be simple or complex — getting a raise at work, finding love, reuniting with a family member who has passed, spending alone time in nature.
There is a common sentiment I hear from dreamers reporting on a good dream: as excited as they are to share it, their report may end with a deflated, “but it was just a dream.” I understand this, and have experienced it myself.
But if I wake up from the dream and journal it, taking time to be with the dream longer, my brain and my nervous system relate to the dream experience on some level as if it had been a waking life interaction or encounter. As with recalling memories of positive waking life experiences, recalling positive dream experiences can be mood enhancing and balancing when we are moving through a difficult time or experience.
Of course, there are always exceptions to such rules, and nagging questions like “wouldn’t the same logic follow with a bad dream or a nightmare?” Or, “will dwelling in my good dreams make me want to spend more time asleep and less time awake?” Good questions! But for now, let’s stick with the benefits of remembering and writing down dreams that make you feel good.
One recent morning, I woke up and remembered three dreams from the sleep I just had. I knew from past experience that if I didn’t write at least a few of the main details before I checked my emails, went to the bathroom, or started my day, I would likely forget the dreams.
I jotted down the major details of the dreams in the notes app on my phone. Sometimes I’ll write more than just the major details right then and there upon waking. That time, I didn’t.
I got up, made coffee, dealt with kids who needed to get off to school. Then I found myself dwelling a little bit longer on one of the three dreams.
I noticed that despite not having such a memorable accompanying story, the feeling the dream left me with was really, really good: bordering on bliss. (More here on a feeling of a dream without the “narrative.”)
It was a calm and soothing kind of good in a way I don’t normally associate with bliss. It was even embodied, but noticeably missing a clear cause. Why did this dream interaction make me feel so good? This confused me a bit.
I was curious. So, I went to my laptop and opened up the notes app and started writing out the whole dream, everything I could remember about it.
It followed dream logic, I noticed; lacking organization or clear timeline. But I chose to not get stuck in that. I keep going, kept trying to recall whatever details I could. I wanted to understand the cause of my almost-bliss.
The main focus of the dream involved a series of interactions with another woman my age. She is not a woman I know in waking life, though I could describe her in detail — her looks, her outfit, her mannerisms.
Most noticeable and consistent, however, was this feeling of calm just being her presence. Her unconditional acceptance of me was obvious. The woman herself was calm and happy; and the way she interacted with me through the series of interactions was also calm and happy. Just being around her made me feel calm and happy, no matter the minor crisis that inevitably arose inside each interaction.
Spending time going back into the dream this morning (aka dreamwork) allowed me to tap into that calm and happiness once again. By the time I was finished writing out the dream, my body itself felt calm and happy.
Compare this dream journaling experience I have shared with a practice you may be more familiar with: recalling a recent joyful or pleasure-filled encounter. It could be as simple as remembering last night’s delicious dinner at a restaurant. Or it could be recalling a wonderful vacation you once took with family or friends.
Most of us don’t realize how much we count on past memories of joy and ease to comfort us during difficult days, or to give us hope that there is more joy and ease yet to come. We call them back up and employ them in our present emotional lives a lot more than we realize.
We also engage in fantasizing about or visualizing the future. Despite what we hear often about the benefits of “living in the present” (which is solid advice, and well worth practicing), memory and fantasy can both serve as temporary coping mechanisms for surviving a challenging present. We are equipped with these abilities to remember and to imagine for a reason. Self-soothing may be one reason. The ability to hope is another.
Engaging with the feeling of joy, calm, or pleasure from a dream is not a cheat. It’s not living a fantasy life. It’s not escapism. It’s not denial. Anything in excess can be escapism, of course, including a blind commitment to “being present” in our waking lives. Dreams do not have to be throw-away experiences we don’t use to our benefit in an attempt to feel good, enjoy life, and look forward to tomorrow.
When your waking life experiences bring you suffering, your dreams can serve as an island of calm and happy. This is good. We should look forward to the possibility of a joyful or pleasure-filled dream. It doesn’t negate the weight of whatever you are dealing with in your waking life.
Dreams are a gift and a tool we have access to when we see them as medicinal, and when we intentionally sink into them as a way of healing.
(A previous version of this article appeared in Mom’s Don’t Have Time To Write magazine on Medium.)
