Dream Parables

Some dreams are so impersonal and so well-structured that they seem more like parables than dreams.

Unlike dream guide dreams, in which there is a teacher present, these are carefully crafted situations that nevertheless teach.

Unneeded Necessary Handbag

I dreamt I was on a ferry, like the kind used in Scandanavia. I was in a passenger cabin with a middle-aged woman who had dark hair. The ferry had taken on a list and it was time to leave. However, the woman refused to leave without her handbag. I decided to help her find it, because the cabin was small and it might well take less time to find it than to argue with her. She described a rectangular pouch that was sewn on all sides. It had no opening. I realised that she had never put anything into it and had never taken anything out. It was useless, or she had made it useless. Nevertheless, she insisted on having this thing with her during this crisis. It was literally useless baggage that kept her from reacting properly to her situation.

I realised that I was dreaming and that this was a message to me and about me. The dream guide was pretending to be me. I am that woman.

I awoke.

The Alligator Test

I dreamt of French actor Alan Delon, who died in waking life not long before the dream. A movie was being filmed on his estate. There was a pool and play area immediately behind his chateau where alligators loitered. In the scene being shot, an actress had to walk naked among them. She had to train first to not feel fear, for that would otherwise excite them. Her being nude must have enhanced her sense of vulnerability.

As it was, she was entirely self-possessed. Her tall, lithe form sauntered among them as if they were so many beach balls. They barely noticed her.

I understood that I was being shown a fact about the dreaming world I already know. I have done similar tests personally dozens of times.

If you see something that elicits a little fear or a little anger, what have you, it creates a thematic gradient — a slippery slope, if you will — that leads you to more of the same. It can happen very quickly, in mere seconds, depending on the strength of attraction. This is how (I imagine) psychedelic trips become bad trips and dreams become nightmares.

I want to note, for the record, that the real horror of a nightmare is not the unpleasant thing that you are fleeing or defeating. It is a mind that chooses unpleasantness when pleasantness is equally possible.

The alligator test dream was a pleasant dream. That statement seems counter-intuitive because alligators were present. But that is the insight. And when you think about it, this insight also works in the waking world. Your experience is going to be more strongly shaped by where you put your attention than what is available for your attention.

Looking upon this dream, I realise that I have been put in remedial education. I had a set back last spring which is evidently so complete, I must start over from scratch, with the dream guides patiently showing me anew how the dream world works. How discouraging.

Collective Dream Monster

I dreamt a man was traveling at night on horseback with a boy that he was delivering to an orphanage. Based on his clothes, he seemed to be a high-ranking official of some sort — he was at least smartly dressed. He came to a iron grating door that barred a tunnel entrance. Inside was some hideous monster that I could not see because I had its perspective. It was some kind of magical, irreal monster that had to do with the themes and tides of reality. It agreed to let the man take the child to an orphanage, as though it could assure an uneventful journey. However, it also spontaneously promised that the child would be ill-treated at the orphanage. The man had to reckon with the true nature of his mission.

The monster spoke in Middle English, which I at first could not understand, but then I could see a parchment lying on the ground with the monster’s monologue written out. Because modern English spelling has much to do with Middle English pronunciation, this was enough for me to understand a few words here and there. The monster described the situation several times with different wording, so I was ultimately able to get the gist of what it was saying. Upon waking, I realised that this repetition only makes sense if I were the intended recipient of the message, not the man. He would have presumably understood the first time.

After delivering the monologue, the monster turned away and retreated back into the mountain. I could feel it walking on four legs and dragging a large tail, as though my awareness had seeped into its body. The inward tunnel opened to a vertical shaft. About five meters above stood two dozen villagers in some sort of gallery, illuminated by torchlight. They were watching silently, apparently to see what the monster would do next, out of morbid curiosity.

I began to feel the dread that the monster felt, and that is when I realised that I had become the monster. I felt dread of what the villagers were making me.They were in an awful part of history because they were awful. Religion alone kept them from tearing each other apart, and that was only somewhat effective. They pretended to be victims of their age, but were unconsciously orchestrating events through this collective dream monster. It was some sort of manifestation of their will and interests. I realised that the monster had only a monologue to read out because it had no agency of its own.

And I had been recruited like everyone else, by paying attention. I could have attended to anything, and I attended to that.

I forced myself awake, only to discover that I had been suffocating all the while due to hay fever. I gasped heavily for fresh air.