Questioning the Subconscious

Dreams represent one of the most profound enigmas of our awareness. While some individuals document their dreams, others may disregard these subconscious visions entirely.

Could there be various layers within the unconscious?

If you perceive your dreams as insignificant, they might indeed hold no value for you. Conversely, those who view dreams as gateways to boundless creativity and spiritual exploration may uncover dimensions of the subconscious that reveal themselves only when the dreamer embraces uncertainty instead of shunning it.

Ultimately, the reasons behind our dreams and their interpretations remain elusive. Therefore, why not venture into the unknown?

Regardless of whether it seems fanciful to think we might connect with a higher intelligence through dreams, it’s essential to engage with this realm. If we can receive enlightening messages and cosmic links while we sleep, why would we overlook such potential?

I believe that everything warrants scrutiny. Every single aspect.

Each day begins with me probing my own subconscious. Questions like these have woven themselves into my morning rituals:

• Where did you just lead me? What does this signify?
• Why do certain individuals appear in my dreams?
• Did I construct the settings in my dreams? Am I merely an observer?

What time is it? …Back to reality, whatever that might entail.

I've discovered that reflecting on dreams after waking is far less effective than seeking answers prior to sleeping.

Machiel Klerk, a psychotherapist and author of Dream Guidance, posits that the dream world is eager to communicate with us and can respond to our profound inquiries. Writing down these questions and revisiting them upon waking can be beneficial. For instance:

• What should I concentrate on **right now*?*
• What challenges am I confronting?
• Where do I require healing?

You can inquire about anything — these are questions directed at your higher self. The responses will likely emerge from your psyche or soul, or however you wish to conceptualize your true essence, free from external influences or ego. It’s crucial to remember that these answers will often manifest indirectly.

The brain's natural language is metaphorical.

Metaphors often defy logic, much like dreams. We can grasp that "an elephant in the room" typically refers to an issue that remains unaddressed, despite not being a literal phrase.

Interpreting the metaphors within our dreams is no different, except they are tailored to the individual. Gaining insight into the language of your dreams is a continuous journey, but you may discern meaningful patterns if you consciously engage with the dream realm.

Numerous studies explore the evolution of language and the brain's metaphorical expressions. Our thought processes have historically diverged significantly from how we communicate. Translating creative ideas into written language can be both therapeutic and incredibly challenging.

As I’ve mentioned before, trying to articulate the dream realm using only words feels akin to miming Shakespeare.

Dreams are notoriously difficult to depict accurately in writing or visuals, as they are deeply personal and mysterious encounters.

For this reason, I believe the significance of dreams can only be ascertained by the dreamer. You don’t need a fortune teller or spiritual guide to interpret your dreams. Trust your own instincts. The messages originate from you, after all.

“Dreams are not merely personal psychological events; they are messages from the soul.” — James Hillman

Lucidity

Do you ever feel as if you are free-falling while asleep? Does it wake you up?

A fun fact: Falling is, in fact, the most commonly reported dream (in America), according to a survey by Amerisleep. Interestingly, writers frequently dream of being back in school.

If the subconscious has multiple levels, perhaps one of them includes those common dreams that many experience, such as being chased, unexpectedly finding oneself unclothed in public, or witnessing teeth fall out.

Lucid dreaming takes this to an entirely different level.

Not long ago, I dreamt of biking beside a lake. I vividly recall being surrounded by towering, ominous trees and a thick fog that grew increasingly foreboding. I also remember contemplating, “I haven’t ridden a bike in years. Is this a dream?”

The path I followed suddenly veered, leading me straight into the lake. I recall the sensation of spinning on the bike, sinking into the murky depths, and then floating. Crocodiles swam toward me from every direction.

A faceless figure pulled me from the water and distinctly warned, “There are crocodiles — not ‘gators… **crocodiles* in the water. It’s not safe.”*

Somehow, I found myself back on my bike, but this time in my hometown. At this moment, I recognized I was undoubtedly dreaming.

Colors and lights became iridescent as the ground vanished beneath me. I detached from my body and observed myself gliding effortlessly through a dream version of my childhood neighborhood, which, though wildly inaccurate, felt familiar.

This fluorescent void dissolved into darkness, akin to a forgotten dream.

I was whisked away — in the blink of a third eye — to a space where time and space ceased to exist. I sensed love without hate, peace devoid of violence, and light without darkness. Surrounding me were countless guardian angels, and I became aware of the infinite nature of the soul.

Then, I awoke.

Before falling asleep, I had written down the question, “Where am I meant to be?”

Upon waking, all I noted was:

“I was biking next to a lake. The road suddenly led into the lake. I remember spinning, sinking, floating. There were crocodiles, not alligators. ‘It’s not safe!’ I was back on Hope Avenue, biking again. I see vibrant colors that don’t exist; I leave my body — Lucidity and a glimpse of …Heaven?”

Even my accounts of my dreams begin and end with inquiries.

I don’t believe this dream suggested I should start biking again or visit my childhood city. Instead, I think it signifies that I need to slow down and reevaluate my path with mindfulness. It also reminds me to keep the larger perspective in mind while I focus on the trivialities of life.

I tend to navigate through dreamscapes at an accelerated pace; I often find myself on endless aerial roller coasters or, in this instance, riding a bike. A common theme in my dreams is the feeling of losing control.

My waking life mirrors this tendency to rush, causing me to overlook crucial warnings and obsess over my direction, forgetting how far I’ve journeyed.

This reality has often left me feeling restless, yet the rare instances when I fully detach from the physical realm inspire hope. If our souls are the only things we carry with us when we depart this life, I find solace in that.

Did that just get overly existential? I’m leaving it as is.

I've been reflecting on my restlessness so much that I even created a short film about it — Parasomnia is available for viewing exclusively on YouTube :)

If you're interested in delving into and interpreting your dreams, I encourage you to meditate on a specific, personal question before sleeping, and jot down your recollections upon waking. You never know what insights may arise!

Thank you for reading!

But wait! There’s more…

Parasomnia: A Quiet Film (Written & Produced by Kendalin Jane)

To Lucid Dreamers Everywhere

Thought Thinkers

ILLUMINATION

Third-Eye-Ascension