Dream Steps : a Bloneironic

   

 

 

...may have created confusion in a recent dream...

 

...yet it also added to the mystery of that dream.

 

In the dream...

 

 

At first glance, such a dream can seem impenetrable...

 

But isn't the dream about loss, about what can be lost, so suddenly, and never retrieved?  Such loss can seem inexplicable. 

 

The loss shouldn't have happen, and yet, it can not be denied.

 

Even if I take nothing else from this dream, it has touched me in a way that is profound. 

 

While in this dream, I was listening to the story of the baiji on the CD recording of Hot, Flat and Crowded, by Thomas Friedman.  But I don't think the incorporation of this material into the dream was merely accidental.  Other times when I've fallen asleep while listening to a book on CD, my dreams haven't included the audio.

 

The disappearance of the small marine animals represents loss on an inner level; whereas, the loss of the river dolphin occurred in the outer world.  But one loss speaks to another.  I know I often respond strongly to an outer world event because it mirrors something happening on an inner level. 

 

I had already heard this story of the baiji before the dream.  So perhaps my dream tells of how I responded to the story.  Perhaps the dream shows me how such stories can affect me on a deep inner level.

 

This dream, among many others, reminds me that the line between "inner" and "outer" is really an artificial distinction, used only for the sake of convenience. 

 

    

 

 

I asked the right question...

 

...but gave myself the wrong answer.

 

In the dream...

 

 

 

That's the entire dream.  No strong image.  In fact, I believe it contained no image whatsoever.  It's what I call a "thought dream". 

 

We generally think of dreams as being illogical, irrational.  But I find that's not always the case.  In this dream, my thinking was quite clear, quite reasonable.  McNamara's dead.  How can he possibly be a military advisor?

 

My answer is reasonable as well.  However, I could have used this question to realize that I was in a dream; I could have become lucid in my dream.  In answer to the question, "How can McNamara be called in as an advisor?", I could have told myself, "He can't--he's dead.  So, I must be dreaming."

 

Yes, I missed my chance, but at least, I'm aware that I missed it.  So, maybe next time, I'll have the right answer.

 

In any case, the more important question is...

 

...why's McNamara in my dream?

 

McNamara, apparently, learned something from his involvement in that earlier conflict.  A present conflict can be not averted--it is already in progress.  However, by drawing on what I've learned in the past, I can avoid making the same mistakes. 

 

  

 

 

"I have dreams that repeat over and over.  I have a dream of my fiancee...sitting in a chair with her back to me...

"...and there’s an Iraqi that cuts her throat.  When I try to save her, when I try to go at him, he disappears.

"I have another dream where I’m mutilating my little baby...picking her up by the legs and smashing her against the wall..."

These dreams were told on the radio program This American Life by an Iraq War veteran, referred to simply as "John".  A self-proclaimed high school "band geek", John did not have a history of violence--until he returned from the war in Iraq.

We don’t seem to be doing a very good job of helping soldiers like John, soldiers suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).  I know that listening to their dreams can help them.  Unfortunately, dream work doesn’t seem to be a part of most therapies today--whether it’s group therapy or individual.

If nothing else, their nightmares will let know them a problem exists, a problem that can not be ignored.  A vet who tells everyone--including himself--that "everything’s okay" may get a different message from his dreams.  These dreams, if shared, can also serve as a warning to family and friends.

I realize it’s difficult to work with dreams.  But it doesn’t have to be complicated.  A dream in which I feel afraid is a dream about my fear.  Simple as that.  You don’t need to be an expert to know that John’s dreams speak of trouble within.

Likewise, a change in his dreams can show he’s beginning to come to grips with his war experience.

I’ve never suffered from PTSD.  But I have had many strange and troubling dreams.  I’ve learned that those dreams aren’t there merely to scare me.  Those dreams have come to lead me out of the dark.

    

 

 

The one below, from Robert Moss' book The Three "Only" Things, may be in the top ten:

 

"Wanda Burch, whose book She Who Dreams is the best guide I know to dream healing, had a recent experience of direct healing through a dream...

 

"A doctor looked at a mole on the sole of her left foot and determined that it needed to be removed.  This would require minor surgery that would cause some residual pain for a few days. 

 

"Prior to the scheduled surgery, Wanda approached sleep with the strong thought, 'Why do I have to go through this?  Isn't there another way?'

 

"In her dream, she inspected the mole on the sole of her foot.  Then a hand appeared from mowhere--as if out of a cloud--holiding a large black pencil.  The hand drew a circle around the mole, and the mole popped off and disappeared.

 

"In the morning, Wanda looked at the sole of her foot.  No trace of the mole.  She looked at her other foot, thinking she must be confused.  No mole.  She got her husband to look, and he confirmed what had happened: a dream event had delivered immediate physical healing.  Her husband insisted she should keep her medical appointment, so the doctors could learn from this."

 

Well, I don't know if the doctors would have learned anything.  But I would have kept the appointment, if only to see the expression on their faces. 

 

Did the "dream event" heal Wanda?  I would say Wanda healed Wanda.  In any case, the result is the same. 

 

This story reminds me of a similar story from my father's boyhood...

 

He grew up in the "sticks", in the hills of Arkansas, where people had not yet lost their folk beliefs.

 

So when he developed a large painful planter's wart on the palm of his hand, he decided, with some trepidation, to visit a woman who lived at the end of a dirt road in the woods, a woman who used all sorts of folk remedies, and was reputed to be a witch.

 

This old woman first told my father to cut a stick from a tree.  She then said an incantation while rubbing his wart with the stick.  Afterwards, following her instruction, he buried the stick in the ground.

 

The next morning, he woke up and inspected his palm.  The painful wart was still there.  The second morning, he again checked his hand.  But the wart was as big as ever.

 

The third morning, he got up and went about his chores, forgetting about the wart completely.  Not until an hour or two later, did he look down to find that the wart had completely disappeared from his hand.

 

Did his healing come from the witch?  Did Wanda Burch's healing come from the dream? 

 

I can't say; however, healing sometimes seems to need a catalyst.