What is Dream State?
For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of having a sibling. A brother or sister with whom I could share my deepest passions and yearnings. A confidant I could trust with my darkest fears. A being who would join me in the imaginative expanses if I ever felt stuck in reality. I suppose my only child privilege is showing; of course (!!!) I wanted something beyond the typical scope from my parents. As those of you with siblings will remind me: it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. The dream version of my sibling, though, was the ideal companion. They listened. Spoke up. Laughed. Joked. Envisioned. Shared. Learned. Taught. Most important, they were connected to me through thick and thin; they were as much a part of me as I was them. Well, dreams have a funny way of working out; even though I pined for the perfect sibling, I was a nightmare whenever it came true.
It began at home with my four-legged sibling, Coney, an energetic terrier mix who saw my evolution from sitting duck to chasing goose. She was definitely a patient teacher, not snapping when I’d run her all over the house and force her under my parents’ bed for relief. I always wanted to play, and though she kept up with me as best she could, my budding dexterity overwhelmed her. I can only imagine what an annoyance my presence in the house was, what a terrible brother I came to be. I grew into a bully, far from what she must have dreamed when she was kicking her legs while fast asleep. It continued with Kody, then Kasey. Sometimes I’d try to engage my four-legged family members in a pillow fight. Other times, I’d trap them in a confined space and agitate them. No wonder you had those dreams in Like a Snooze Button. The power I exerted with that level of control…just writing about it makes me squirm.
Outside the house, I adopted a female cousin as my older sister, clinging to every word she spoke and following every move she made as we grew. While I elevated her in my universe, she already had a younger brother with whom to share that meaningful bond. Still, the dynamic worked for all 3 of us; whenever we were together, my male cousin and I would shadow his sister, giving her the control to style our hair with barrettes and teach us coping mechanisms. As she matured, though, she needed space. It was while she was spending time with older family members that jealousy got the best of me. In an enraged fit, I complained to my male cousin, piling all my sibling-less angst on him without applying any of the coping lessons I learned from his sister. The result? A bloody mess that scarred the bond I held with my cousins; my dreams of gaining the ideal sibling shattered by the smoking toy gun.
“Dreams contain both lies and truths. If we’re spiritual, our dreams are predominantly truthful. If we’re egocentric, our dreams will be misleading. These influences affect us subconsciously, impacting the decisions we make in life. The more truthful our dreams, the wiser choices we make. And vice versa” (61). I can always count on Yehuda Berg to wake me up via The 72 Names of God. When I landed on Dream State through The Name Game, I fell into a black hole—are my dreams misleading me?—and feared my imagination would never see the light of day again. Doubt clouded the vast landscape of my dreams, leading MATTHEW from insecurity to indecision then, eventually, inaction. My reality was growing darker with each sleep cycle. “If we can extrapolate the messages from our dreams and nightmares—consciously and subconsciously—we understand what we have to change about ourselves. Spiritual change is the proactive way to deflect negative effects and judgments that might be heading our way" (61). You’ve opened my eyes, Berg; I know what I need to do.
Turning back to Like A Snooze Button, I see that it’s better to face my dreams (and nightmares) head on, and I can accomplish this by journaling. If I use my writing as a guide, Looks Can Kill points to where my subconscious is trapped: my parent’s basement. Perhaps it isn’t wise (nor would it be recommended by a sibling), but I need to apply what I learned at the Grand Canyon; I must immerse myself in the darkness by sleeping in the basement. Huh?! I know…I’ve reread this paragraph over and over with the same reaction: shrug (?)(!) I’ve slept down there hundreds of times, what’s the big deal? It’s hard to describe, but there has always been a weird energy in that space; our four-legged family members, most notably, have clued us in on several occasions, whether that be by refusing to go down, begging to come up, or barking aggressively at empty corners. But they’re just dogs…that doesn’t mean anything….I was skeptical about where my subconscious was leading me as well, not able to connect the thread between my deflated dreams and the dreary downstairs, outside the alliteration. That is, until I stayed down there…
Over the course of a week, I slept in the basement and tracked my shifting dreams and reality as I experienced it. Though fear initially obscured my view, the vast darkness I fell asleep in and awoke to was bringing me closer to something. I could feel it calling, pulling me deeper. I debated running away from it, retreating from my resolve like I have so many times before (as evidenced in Unity). I considered fighting fire with fire, plummeting into my own dark place and besting whatever thought it could outdo me. Instead, I chose door 3: listening. It had some really nasty things to say at first, but the closer I listened, the more distinct the voice became. It was on the 5th night that things really took a turn. Before I fell asleep (or maybe I was already dreaming?), I felt a strong presence in the room with me. I bolted up and peered into the shadows; my eyes couldn’t make anything out, but I knew I wasn’t alone. Suddenly, the darkness took shape. I saw it: a ghost.
Gasp!
Now, I could write pages upon pages about who I met in the basement and how it relates to all the other aspects of my journey, but that’s a much longer story (wait for the book!) :) The purpose of this article is to understand how my dreams lead me to (or away from) truthfulness and wise decisions. Much like the ghosts of A Christmas Carol, I was confronted with visions of the past, present, and future; as I journaled, I found myself responding to the haunting presence that was hidden away in the recesses of my mind. I learned how it seeped into my being, attached onto me. And after 2 years, I finally saw how it changed me through my dreams, recognizing how it pushed me to reveal my soul while nearly destroying me. That’s all a bit dramatic, don’t you think? Good point. I’ll try to assess this as logically as I can.
Ghost of Chico’s Past
It’s a shame, isn’t it? When our dreams, as wholeheartedly as we believe, don’t come true. My daily journal entries are a good measure of this brutal reality; I imagined once that I would journal every day for the rest of my life to help me see into my dreams and live them to the best of my ability. Peeking through the pages of the past now, I see how often I was sad, angry, confused, or anxious. And those were the days I wrote! There are chunks of time missing; dreams unspoken. Ultimately, I find it best when I write in the morning, as suggested by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way; however, rising in the stark darkness of the basement compared to the quarter-shaded sunshine of my bedroom made for a dreary start. Rise and…shade? Still, I forced myself to write whatever came to mind during my stay over downstairs. Note: I often avoid reading past journal entries because they make me so…uncomfortable. As I glance through the pages from that week, my eyes don’t have to make contact long to grasp the underlying message: I am addicted to shame. A closer look shows the pattern: I build something up in my mind (an experience, an interaction, a relationship, a lifestyle) through my dreams, an idealistic landscape through which I can chart my path. Then, in reality, something happens; it doesn’t go to plan, and I’m left feeling dejected and ashamed. This chases me into my dreams, creating turmoil in my utopia then sprouting doubt when I rise in the morning.
Here’s the twist: though I dread facing the sadness, anger, confusion, and anxiety consciously, my shame-filled dreams are such an irresistible escape that I seek out shameful experiences to supply my altered subconscious. I’ve regressed back to a former way of living by allowing shame to dictate my existence, but it’s different than before. Now, I shame my shame. Huh?! I pick apart my meta-awareness, critiquing my inability to write through the shame that comes when I’m not able to commit to a more spiritual lifestyle or find better balance in relationships. By the end of the day, I feel deserving of the shame I’ve compiled since I was not able to see my idealistic dreams through to reality; I wallow in the darkness because there seems to be no light available. In turn, I make more egotistical decisions as time wears on, seeking out shame to beget more dreams, devouring experiences yet leaving my subconscious hungry for more.
While my morning writing helped me recognize these patterns, it was another exercise that allowed me to confront my haunted past, break the shame cycle, and return to a more favorable dream state: writing letters. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard of the tried and true method of writing a letter to someone you’re upset with in order to express any negative emotions without necessarily confronting the individual. Taking this concept a step further, one of the activities suggested in The Artist’s Way is to write a letter from your 8- and 80-year old selves, separately, to your present self. I found this to be meaningful as I wrote out my dreams from different perspectives and reflected on how they shape me. Soon, I became my own pen pal, responding back and forth between former and future perspectives, opening up about what lies and truths were impacting my subconscious. As my dreams became clearer, my letter writing broadened; I began addressing abstract concepts causing confusion, underlying fears causing blockages, and insecurities causing shame. The more I allowed my imagination to run wild, the more focused I became in reality. Now, I make a point of writing at least one letter before I fall asleep, identifying a person, place, thing, or idea that was at the heart of some imperfect experience throughout the day. Though the letters often begin with a flurry of negative emotions, baffling questions, and shameful thoughts, by the end, I typically find some agreement or balance, preparing me for the dream state on the other side of my eyelids.
Ghost of Chico’s Present
When I wake up some mornings, it feels like I have to start over from scratch, like my dreams lead me somewhere uncharted: a deeper truth. These moments are a tipping point for my day. Am I ready to live fully in the present moment by accepting this truth? As evidenced by the “Maturity Tracker” I developed this spring, the answer is a resounding “no.” Looking at the numbers between May-October (and being mindful that, like in my journals, there are gaps of time missing), I see the imbalance immediately. I wrote 164 times over those 6 months, whether that be journal entries, creative prompts, or blog articles; of the 10 addictive behaviors I added to my tracker, 5 of them outnumbered my writing during the same period. You can’t handle the truth! It looks that way, but if I intend to establish more harmony in the present moment between my dreams and reality, I’m going to need to go deeper.
Pipe dreams. I’ve huffed and puffed my share. In my mind, it’s a dramatic step up from the blackout nights of alcoholism when I was chasing to the bottom of a glass for answers. You don’t have to look far (Like Clean Sheets…) to see how that affected my dreams and reality. I punished my subconscious for its rainbow-bright vibrancy; the more nights that ended in a blackout, the more my presence faded, the better. Well, not entirely for the better; slurred words, disorderly conduct, raging hangovers, projectile vomiting, verbal abuse, physical altercations, arrests all in the presence of alcohol. With marijuana, it was a different story. Rather than losing track of time and space, I was thrust deeper into the present moment, growing increasingly aware of my energy along with others. I recognized how much my reality could align with my imagination. Most importantly, I returned to the colorful dreams from before. Just one more hit. Like most addictions, though, I grew convinced that the only way to access these profoundly deep moments was to smoke. Over time, my mornings became a battle between reaching for a pen and paper or a bowl and lighter to spark my creativity. Nearly 4 times more often (per the tracker), I chose the latter. As a result, my self-belief (and lungs) vacillated, my focus drifted toward egocentrism, and my presence remained haunted.
I’ve tried many different things to reestablish balance through the evolving shape of addiction; a few worked for a short period of time, but then some revealed truth shook me down to my core and left me scrambling for the next fix of any escape. Since writing can be such a battle, what else in my tracker has helped me regain confidence and sustain inner joy through its expression, then? The only other thing that outnumbered writing in the self care section of my tracker: music. I’ve shared a lot about how music has impacted my journey; whether I’m playing piano, singing, dancing, or just listening, I’ve found an outlet for the anxiety that comes with bringing my dreams to life. At the beginning, even music was a daunting task as I found myself wanting to hit all the right notes and not miss a beat with my feet. By embracing musical expression more, particularly in the (sober) presence of others, I’m able to confront my fear of looking/sounding “gay” and exorcise the demon that eats away at my self-belief. This empowers me to choose the chords and words that resonate with my dreams, weaving them together with my reality to create something beautiful. Its light. Its dark. It comes with bright smiles. It comes with heavy tears. It sounds like a serenade. It sounds like a heart-rending scream. Through each experience, it brings me back to the present moment and provides me with an inspiring tune that follows me from reality into my dreams and vice versa.
Ghost of Chico’s Future
“Where do I go from here?” I love to answer this question at the end of these articles…HA! The uncertainty of what’s to come from the combination of my dreams and reality leaves me shaking. It’s like I’ve seen a ghost…When Scrooge was visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, he saw a horrible vision of no one mourning his death; it’s as if the world would have been a better place without him. If you’ve trekked along on this journey with me, hopefully there’d be some love lost if I were to pass away unexpectedly. There would certainly be less words for you to read. Still, I’m not sure if I’m having the impact I imagined. Since I exist in different dimensions of reality, separated by distance, time, and perspective, I can’t say I’m any closer to building the community I’ve longed for, the companionship of my dreams. In fact, given my propensity to move freely across these dimensions, I could be doing more harm than good to the organisms with whom I’ve shared that deep level of connection. Gulp…It’s possible I even disrupted established communities with the actions inspired by my dreams, my egocentrism knowing no bounds and leading me to believe I was helping when really I was hurting others. What a nightmare…
I need to overcome this pull toward anxious inaction; every time I reel off some deeper truth with the future in mind, I feel that haunting figure cast a shadow over my outlook. You’ll never be able to achieve it…You see how powerful it is; every train of thought is derailed by that doubtful voice. When I feel especially overwhelmed by the unknown, I do my best to pause (inhale), take a deep breath (exhale), then reflect on the priorities that make me WHO I am: 1) Strengthening the relationship(s) with my self/soul and those around me; 2) Expressing myself creatively; 3) Pursuing social impact/business enterprise opportunities; 4) Engaging in community service; 5) Immersing myself in nature. Since each priority is relatively broad, I have the freedom to sub-categorize based on my present state and then align toward my dream state; however, I’ve returned to that itching question: what are you looking for? If I’m going to organize my reality toward something I’ve envisioned, I better have a damned good idea of how to make it come true.
Fortunately, I do: by creating mission and vision statements. After working for non-profit organizations most of my professional life, I understand the importance of crafting short- and long-term goals that correlate with my priorities and beliefs. At work, even though there are challenges in the way of fully realizing the mission and vision, having these statements in place provides a sense of purpose for those involved. Moreover, progress (however slight) is still progress; every bit of effort contributes to a bigger picture. With this in mind, here is what I came up with for my statements:
Mission: To inspire more smiles, laughter, healing, and sharing by opening my heart to those I encounter on my journey.
Vision: To establish a dynamic community of visionaries that operates with a higher consciousness toward global unity.
Before I tuck this article in for the night, I wonder, how can I be sure that my dreams will lead me to wake up on the right side of the bed each day? I suppose I can’t…my dreams will remain somewhat of a mystery since they are riddled with subconscious thoughts, hidden meanings, and visions of the past, present, and future. Thankfully, Berg reminds me that “When we fall asleep, the daily chains of physical existence that trap our souls in our bodies loosen. As we slumber, our souls become free to ascend into the spiritual atmosphere where they receive nourishment, power, and the occasional tune-up” (61). If I follow my heart and don’t let the ghost(s) scare me away from being WHO I know I am, then I will experience the imaginative freedom of my whole-hearted, harmonious truth. My dreams will unite with my reality, leading me toward making wiser decisions, growing my self/soul-belief, and affecting spiritual change. I can finally rest easy; dreams really do come true!
