Hold fast to dreams

We need more dreams — literal ones — to cope with the pervasive living nightmare ahead

Rendition of Jacob and the ladder

Dreams are difficult to describe. They manifest themselves in an infinite number of ways. From an academic standpoint, dreams are complex psychological phenomena that can be influenced by a variety of factors, including immediate circumstances, environmental milieu, emotions, memories, and subconscious processing. 

The relationship between dreams, present situations, and their potential relevance to future events is a topic that has been explored through the lenses of divinity, sorcery, geography, psychology, neuroscience, and philosophy, amongt others. In the Bible, Joseph saved Egypt and his estranged family through his dreams while Daniel interpreted the future for King Nebuchadnezaar. 

How everyday dreams come about and how they play out is an incalculably complex phenomenon. They are impossible to either predict or control. 

Many artists, scientists, and inventors (Albert Einstein, Nikola Tesla etc) reportedly gained breakthrough insights after having had a dream. My high school chemistry text recounted how a lucid dream had helped August Kekule to crack the mystery of chemistry structures, particularly that of the vexatious benzene. Dreams can therefore serve as a subconscious problem-solving faculty. This idea is linked to the “continuity hypothesis” which suggests that dreams are often an extension of waking thoughts.

Dreams can also be outright satanic. They can breach psychological and spiritual safeguards and thereafter unleash negative tendencies, thought patterns and behavioural traits. I had one such dream in my mid-teens. I call this the “dreaded dream”. It spawned persistent anxiety and sporadic panic attacks for a long, long time. Ironically, one of the few pleasant memories I had of this period was a terse poem written by Langston Hughes. It was ironically titled “Dreams”.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

One immediate coping mechanism to my dreaded dream was a hitherto unrecognised tendency towards autodidacticism — as long as the subject matter was captivating and the environment was right. Delving into complex problems became a channel for escapism in between spells of pounding heartbeats I had to endure.  

I sought spiritual help during this period, and had wandered from one Christian grouping to another for resolution. But I discovered that Churches which boasted of supernatural manifestations or the power of faith-based life were antithetical to the person of Jesus Christ. A bruised reed they will indeed break (Matthew 12:20) and that has been my lamentable experience. It however trained me to see through people and situations. 

As my anxieties gradually receded, I had a faint suspicion that God was perhaps — just maybe — separating me from the forces of mass formation around me. He was closing doors to things I yearned; and opened those to which I neither sought nor countenanced. I had also acquired a gift for analysis and writing and was becoming quite well-known, in spite of the fact that the dreams I had during this spiritually-crushing phase were almost entirely dark and depressing. 

The nature of my dreams began to change for the better when I undertook my doctoral studies. I once had a spell of dreams that were so vivid that I just could not shake them off.  I was careful to commit them solely to ink and paper, with portions written in code. These dreams brought clarity to the past while the future was sketched out by stark polychromatic reels. Some of these hypnagogic impartations finally made sense during the plandemic. It was yet another reason why I avoided the Covid-19 “vaccines” altogether. “Precognitive dreams” are those that reveal or hint at a future. 

As the years went by, I would still get the odd nightmares but these were gradually nudged out by a number of deliciously evocative dreams. Let me provide a wholly unremarkable example. This involved an unplanned stopover in a remote, decrepit and lonely hotel that was once stately in its heyday. The adjacent beach was lonely and forlorn in all its sepia glory. Yes, that dream had only three shades of colour. Here is a representation of the concluding scene in that dream. Artificial Intelligence just cannot match what the brain subconsciously contrives. 

Not really a good or standout dream by any standards, right? That is my point. Only the dreamer can appreciate his dreams. It can unleash a reservoir of untapped energy and intrigue for the weary mind. It makes you think of other dimensions and appreciate beauty in an otherwise failing world. Dreams, sometimes recalled after years, can provide a contemplative pause or a sense of mystery. In my opinion, many deja vu feelings have their origins in long-forgotten dreams. 

Many dreams are nonspecific or vague, and humans have a tendency to connect unrelated events by selectively remembering dreams that align with future outcomes. Neuroscientists and oneirologists — those who specialise in the scientific study of dreams — park this tendency under the category of “confirmation bias”. Maybe they are right, but what got me into writing this article was a mid-day dream I had yesterday which will not make much sense to the reader. I will therefore provide only the bare synopsis as it can be somewhat anticlimactic. Until perhaps, the very end. 

The Dream

I was set to play in the grand finale of a field hockey match. The match was scheduled a long time in advance which may be the reason why I could not recognise my teammates. 

By the time I geared up, it was already nightfall but the field was well-lit. Beyond that was sheer darkness. Amidst the collective anticipation, my team was disintegrating even before the opening whistle blew. The opponents appeared like organised giants. As some teammates withdrew amidst jeers. I grabbed the last remaining hockey stick and ran into the field, at least to make up the numbers.  

I drifted in and out of the game with too many missteps and misfires. It was obvious I was out of touch with the sport. That was until I retrieved the ball via an illegal manoeuvre to prevent the opponents from scoring. I then proceeded to dodge past the entire opposition to reach the other end, flicking the ball past a hapless goalkeeper.  

Next thing I know, the umpire who was supposed to be neutral, congratulated me for my amazing comeback performance, and hinted at a special prize money. I cheekily suggested a sum but he corrected me that the actual allocated prize was double the amount. 

It was then that I woke up, refreshed and intrigued. I literally thanked God for the dream and wanted more. I like these sorts of experiences. Who wouldn’t? I had also missed three phone calls which meant that my nap must have been sufficiently deep. 

In terms of vividity however, this particular dream only scored 6/10 — certainly not one worthy of being written down. However, as I lay in bed recounting all the soporific scenes, sequences and sensory experiences, I remembered another unconnected dream which I had nearly a decade ago. This one scored 7.5/10 but was still deemed not worthy of being recorded down. It was just a dream. 

Maybe, it was confirmation bias at work but I began to connect the two. In the previous dream, I was in a bungalow set amidst a lush field. There was a rail track nearby. The people inside seemed to be oddly-related to me and were scheming something. I therefore left the place and was perhaps tricked into taking a short cut. Instead I got myself into an endless labyrinth which seemed to represent the underbelly of modern society. Slums were interspersed with large structural underpinnings that were either leaking or crumbling.  There was no end in sight and despair set in. Finally, at dawn, I stumbled into another lush field with a rail track and rushed past a chugging train.

The next thing I know, I was at the home of a mate. We were dancing to the tune of The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love. We had created an adolescent fantasy bubble of sorts to detach ourselves from the mass conformity of our peers. And our world was yet more real than theirs. We celebrated that fact each weekend. 

As I was writing this, I checked the lyrics of that song for the first time. Substitute the word “you” with “the world” and the song seems to have been written specifically for me. 

Confirmation bias at work again? I wouldn’t deny the logic. The song was still representative of my circumstances and aspirations. Maybe, just maybe… I was falling in love with life once again? 

I am also writing this in the hope that my readers will start dreaming again. Many are already facing a living nightmare and things will only get worse in the days ahead. People are looking forward to immersing themselves in the escapist fantasies of AI-mediated virtual reality. It will never be the same as organic dreams. In fact, it will be a subliminal form of brainwashing.

May your dreams refresh you, intrigue you and pause you from gazing at the growing darkness encompassing this world. Your dreams are specific and only appreciable to you. Rarely can they be transcribed into words. Often, but not always, they are a reflection of you, your concerns and your hopes. 

I will conclude this article on a twin note of caution and hope. First the caution. To borrow a line from Hughes’s poem, avoid broken-winged birds that cannot fly, unless you have clearly discerned a bruised reed in need of help. Otherwise, they will crush your own wings and entrap you in their milieu of learned helplessness, or worse. This is important as I believe we are on the cusp of what was promised in Joel 2:28. This is the hope. 

And it shall come to pass afterward,

 that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh;

your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

your old men shall dream dreams,

and your young men shall see visions.

Addenda: I know this is a marked departure from my usual commentaries and analyses but I felt compelled to highlight the importance of having dreams and holding on to them. 

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