It is fun to imagine that our dreams are a window into an alternate reality, one with real substance. Perhaps we are tapping into knowledge of a hidden dimension or remotely viewing a parallel existence. We see wonderous and terrible visions while we sleep, but also mundane things. And sometimes dreams are just too bizarre to be coming simply from our own imagination. At least that’s one theory.
Sometimes I fall asleep with the television on, and whatever dreams take place during that time are ones I choose to discount. The images in those dreams are likely caused by the flickering of light on my eyelids, and the sounds I dream are probably the whispers from late-night infomercials. My brain wants to make sense of the sensory input from the room, filling my mind with random nonsense. I want my dreams to contain messages of wisdom from across the great void of space-time, but my cable provider does not have a channel for that.
When I have a compelling dream, I like to share it. I’ve subjected my family to tales of UFO invasions and our sun going supernova, but those kinds of dramatic dreams are rare for me. I’ve dreamt about looking for a new house, or driving around in our car, but I only bother to tell my family when they appear as characters in those kinds of dreams.
Of course I keep other dreams to myself. Some are embarrassing (but perfectly normal, they say) and some are just boring. I dream I’m in church or in a theater, but nothing much happens. If these are also windows into another reality, then it’s pretty realistic to think that their world is just as mundane as our own sometimes.
Then there are the dreams that make no obvious sense, built with bizarre images and without logic. I write them down when I can, when I have words to describe what I’ve seen or felt. I don’t know whether to look for meaning in their symbolism, or accept that they have no purpose. I am not comfortable with either option.
Last night, I dreamt about worms. Specifically, I was donating worms to a scientist for research. He cut the worms out of my belly. They were not doing me any harm, and the extraction did not hurt me. It was all rather ordinary, in that manner of dream logic. I will describe the scene in great detail in my written dream journal, not here, and will eventually forget about it. Whatever meaning or message was encoded there has missed its mark.
Tonight, I hope to travel across space and time, but perhaps via less-literal wormholes.