13. Dreams—A Little Help from Our Friends

The Self can be defined as an inner guiding factor that is different from the conscious personality and that can be grasped only through the investigation of one’s own dreams.” Carl Jung, Man and His Symbols” (MAHS) p. 160

There are sooooo many books written about dreams, what they mean, how to use them. I have a whole shelf of books specifically about dreams and their interpretation. Yes, I have read and highlighted them. But I will disclaimer that my input can neither be academic nor even encompassing. It is experiential, my experience from what I have lived and learned.

My wish is to convey how useful and insightful and comforting and knowledgeable dreams can be to aid you in everyday living—and, moreso, in finding a raison d’etre (a reason to be) for the life you are living. Dreams are the navigational buoys in the sea of life and Life.          

“(Dreams) work to accomplish two things. They work to solve the problems of the dreamer’s conscious, waking life. And they work to quicken in the dreamer new potentials which are his to claim.” “Edgar Cayce on Dreams” p. 9

The first thing to know about our dreams is that We are the “producer.” Some part of us—our psyche, our higher Self, our piece of the Eternal, ‘the One Within Who Knows,’—the part that holds the Schematic. Always wanting to get us on the true track of our Life.

Also, we play all the parts. Dream about your daughter (or son), think about the daughter (or son) part of you. Dream about your mother, think of the ‘mother’ in you.  Dream about a “character,” write down a description and see which part of you they might represent. Dream about a scary, dark character—that may be your Shadow that wants you to recognize it. Face it. Look for the Anima/Animus (opposite sex) to see what additional aspects or attributes of your personality you need to incorporate. See what your starting status is and watch as you deal with each of your Parts and Pieces to get to your true Self. Dreams will let you know if you’re gaining or losing and how to fix the problem. They can also give you guidance for most every issue you face in life.

I know, I can hear you saying, “I don’t remember my dreams.” The best way to press ‘Start’ on remembering and getting help from your dreams? Buy a blank book and start writing them down. Once dreams see that you are taking them seriously, they’ll make themselves remember-able.

I began with ‘little’ blank books, the cloth-bound versions—save your money. Go for the 8 1/2 x 11” letter-sized books or even spiral notebooks (stock up when they’re on sale for back-to-school supplies!)   Once you apply your sincere energy (the operative word, energy) and effort to follow that built-in urge toward growth, it will see that dreams, answers, synchronicities, books, friends, strangers, even podcasts, will keep you going forward.

What some call a “numinous” dream may even hold ‘the Call’ that begins a person’s search for their true Self.  “Numinous” meaning it is a ‘BIG” dream; it holds some sort of divine, spiritual or something-Bigger-than-you-and-I feeling. It sorta demands that you pay attention to it and wonder on it for a while.

I had what I’d call a “voice of God” dream a year or two after I had been awakened by The Catalyst. It was before I had that intuitive feeling that ‘dreams might be important,’ but when you think you might have heard ‘the voice of God,” you’re gonna remember that dream without writing it down!  

What I remember is that the night before I’d been watching what is called an “oater” in crossword puzzles—an old western movie, may have been John Wayne and a wagon train setting as I recall.  Later that night I had a dream that I was with a wagon train and we were being attacked (dreams do like to play with recent tv fare). Our backs were to what felt like a big rocky cave and I was on the ground furiously directing and helping people pile all our belongings/”stuff” up in front for protection. Working frantically and furiously, all of a sudden…a disembodied voice, maybe coming from the cave, and striking silence all around, quietly announced, “You Will Be an Organizer.”  That’s all. And it sorta ended the dream—or at least it woke me up.

My first reaction, again, was, “Whut?” What does that mean? And, again, all I could do was say, “OK. I’m listening.” What am I supposed to organize? I decided it wasn’t any project I was working on at the time. Voice of God seemed a little overkill for a tv project. All I could do was file it away (and wait for some other clue) because I sure couldn’t figure it out…or forget it.  It did sound like what I would have thought the “Voice of God” would come to us like, so I did pay attention and wonder on it.  Then all I could do was wait.

Fast forward 12-14 years later (remember, 12-14 years doesn’t even equate to the Eternal part we’re dealing with). Here is the description of a “non-descript piece of a dream” I recorded in my journal. “There were lots of mundane on-going dreams, but they were faint, not much registered or stayed with me. I remember thinking about/realizing I had this dream, seemed boring, just sluffed it off during the night til this morning when I realized it was a wagon train—and it was the wagon train I was with/helping out when I had the “You Will Be An Organizer” dream years ago.”

Again, “Whut?” I had almost forgotten about that ‘Voice of God’ dream.

In this dream, the wagon train was starting up again, moving on down the trail. I set about picking up odds and ends of our “stuff” and throwing it into various wagons as they pulled out. I didn’t want anything to be left behind. Twelve to fourteen years later—I was still organizing.

Here’s where I caution that you have to be awake to Dots dropping so you can connect them later—sometimes much later.

Remember the classmate who wrote the book I felt was an ode to his Anima? In this dream he was the one who “woke me” that the wagon train was starting up again. What is even more bizarre was that that classmate had been a recurring theme in my dreams for over four years leading up to a class reunion.  His name was used as word play on the changing status of my ‘art’. Although his name was Art (so I wouldn’t miss the clue), let’s call him Blake Book. (In the beginning he was handicapped but I loved him so much! Probably a very apt description of my “art” at the time.) When I dreamed of BB, it was usually an update on the status of how well I was progressing in my “art.” BB many times showed up in a “Reunion” setting which made me more determined to go to the class reunion which I rarely-to-never attended.

After Blake Book was identified as the recurring symbol for my art, it was my dreams that led me to locating him after having been absent from my home town for a couple of decades. (As they say, ‘that’s a whole ‘nother story, Montel’) Four years of BB being the symbol for my art, then I attended the actual class reunion.  The real BB and I talked over 18 hours. I gathered one item from him that ended up in my pertinent pocket. His theory of Marginal Multiples. I really thought his theory had merit, not to mention a little bit of humor, and… alliteration. MM.

 (A quick note: if you understand that when an aggrieved or abused personality splits into “multiple personalities” for survival, BB had extrapolated and shared his theory of “Marginal Multiples.” He felt all of us take on borderline (on the margin) adjuncts to our personality—nothing too serious, just some oddities to our normal nature that pop up on certain prompted occasions. I already knew that when a child is traumatized—emotionally, physically, or spiritually—at an early age, there will always remain a child of that age (thinking and acting) in the adult’s personality.  Hit a trigger and that young-aged child may stomp, yell or react in his now-adult body! Here BB had come up with a name—Marginal Multiples. (has a lightbulb gone on yet? MM?)

It was three years after that reunion that I had the dream that BB (symbol for my ‘art’) woke me up to tell me that the wagon train was starting up again.

Long time to be remembering Dots dropped, right? They neither drop linearly, nor do they drop conveniently close together. But if they are ‘pertinent to your survival’, you will. That’s why eyes, ears, heart and soul must be open, alert, and waiting (writing down helps, too). I’m pretty well convinced that the Self/Unknown/Eternal that we are dealing with really does not do well in our constriction of the time/space continuum. Time just isn’t factored in the same way. Or maybe it’s all just to teach us patience.

So how do we use our dreams?

Let’s get Practical, Practical.

If you’re new to Mesmarriah Miracle, it’s best to start at Post #1 and continue in numbered sequence, like Connecting the Dots.

3. Mesmarriah Was Born in a Dream

There came a point in my searching for answers to my Big Questions of Life that I started having these little subtle feelings that dreams were important, so I’d been writing them down for a while. Didn’t know specifically what to do with them, but I honored them enough to go out and buy blank books to write them down. Drilling down, I started reading other books on how to record and explore my dreams.

And I had this dream…

In this dream, “I” had just joined “the circus” and was just about to meet some of the other people.  It seemed like it was dark, which I came to find out means “in the dark” or “not known to us at this time” so that seemed apropos. Some of the circus people asked me, “What is your name?” (This is how dreams are funny) I realized I did not know what my name was, and I needed to listen to see what name I spoke. I heard myself say, “My name is Mesmarriah Miracle, M-e-s-m-a-r-r-i-a-h.”(It seemed very important they understand it was Mesmarriah with two “r’s.”) “You can call me Marriah.” There’s not much more from the dream except they seemed likeable people to be around.

Even in the dream, I knew what a very special name I had been given. I mean, first of all, I’ve always loved alliteration, MM, mmmmmmmm—what did it mean? Where did it come from? Who was the “I” who had to listen to see what her name was? What was I to do with it?  Why would I be given such a beautiful and special name in a dream? Was I to do something special with it? Surely there had to be a purpose for my being given a name I could not possibly have heard or read about. 

I didn’t know. I felt all I could do was wait and see what presented itself. That’s what I’d been learning how to do—be patient, wait, Just. Let. Life. ‘Flow.’  Mesmarriah Miracle did seem like a Dot dropped for sure. Would there be a Dot to connect it to? Would I recognize it? How long would it take?

Waiting. Patience. Not my strong suits. But how was I to do otherwise? Who can you scream at to get an answer, “why the heck was I given such a special name and not know what to do with it, for criminy’s sake!”

Nobody.

Nothing to do but just wait. And wait. And wonder. And revisit. And wait. Yeaaarrs.

While we’re waiting, I’m going to back up for just a moment. Now, this ‘feeling” that dreams were important? Where did that come from? 

Close your eyes. Super tight. You’re in pitch black darkness. Not a dust mote of light seeping through your eyelids. But in life, you’re moving, always moving so you must keep walking. Move slowly.  Feel your way. Feeling is the only thing that will guide you, will save you, and enable you to go forward.  Slow, cautious progress perhaps, but movement forward nonetheless. When you first wake up to Life with a Capital L that is what you do. Feel your way. Feeling that dreams were important was reason enough for me to step forward.

I’d been traversing that pitch black darkness aka unknown territory for almost five years before I’d felt my way to the feeling that “I think dreams might be important.” Feeling my way day by day, emotion by emotion, one feeling to the next.  What had started the journey into the Unknown?

A feeling that I’d just ‘woken up.’

When you feel “I just woke up,’ the natural question you ask is, “When did I fall asleep?”

A Dot. ‘Waking Up”

I woke up at the age of 35. “Waking up” requires a catalyst. A very strong one. A strong emotional, many times heartbreaking, devastating, crippling catalyst to jolt you awake. That’s Part A. Part B is you must heed the challenge you have now been given to investigate “why,” look inside, dig deep, face feelings, conquer uncertainty, and not succumb to the fear or pain it might threaten. It’s what the mythologist Joseph Campbell calls, “The Hero’s Journey,” and heroes face and conquer awesome challenges, don’t they?

From a book called, “Passages,” by Gail Sheehy, I retained the breakdown of our life’s passages. Roughly (and I’m paraphrasing my own concise view): our 20’s, 30’s we’re acquiring—family, careers, all those plans we have, we’re working hard to bring them into fruition. Late 30’s, early 40’s we start some assessing: is this where I wanted to be, is it what I thought it would be, is this what I want? Then comes some time of possible re-assessing. Late 40’s and 50’s are when people make major changes in careers, lifestyles, life goals, life ambitions if their reassessment comes up short for feeling a purpose in life. (Believe it or not, we all crave a purpose in life.) 

Many times the reassessment of original goals and aims uncovers a feeling of malaise, discontent, melancholy that has seeped through all the striving and doing. By the time we’re in our 60’s, we’re probably on the way to beginning what I call concretizing. Wild changes in thought, attitude, actions are null; the ones we have at that time are beginning to harden, perhaps stultify. 

Basically, I was right on target, 35.

My catalyst was an encounter with another human being, a person I’d never met before and yet I knew immediately.

Breaking the heart opens it.

(Retained as pertinent to my survival from one of Alice Walker’s books.)

The inward journey is portrayed in the Myth of King Arthur which stories man’s (woman’s, human’s) psyche—the part where ‘each knight of the round table must go into the forest on his own path searching for the Holy Grail.’ That is the metaphor for an inward, dark foresty search for our ‘holy grail,” our true Selves. Every hero enters on his or her own path. “Seek and ye shall find,” sayeth the Bible.

The impact was a bomb crater in my life as I knew it. Hurt and heartbreak for me and those I loved most of all. A tearing apart of the life I was living.  Yet I knew with some unknown knowledge that all of it was for a purpose that had deeper meaning than what the surface attraction, turmoil and anguish showed. It required that I not fall into the trap of thinking the surface circumstances were the reason or the end-all-be-all. I had to navigate my way through it only with what I felt was the leading of something bigger than mere logic or feelings or desire, something inside rather than outside. Following that leading, I started a search to understand why I now felt I had just woken up. That search would take me inward, now outward.

When I ‘woke up,’ the feeling was more a puzzlement than an amazement. I was more curious about, “when did I fall asleep?” I searched back over my life to see if I’d ever felt a feeling like this before. Was I ever awake that I could recall? Fell asleep somehow…was it from boredom, monotony, the mundane?…and then all of a sudden kissed awake? (Sound familiar?)  I had to conclude that I somehow must have been asleep all my life and was just now awakening to it. 

What did that mean, ‘to wake up?’ Honestly, I didn’t even equate this ‘waking up’ feeling to ‘Wow! All of a sudden I know what my purpose in life is. I know what Life is all about!” Nope. Feeling that I was waking up from a sleep was all I could explain. Was I living a real life version of Sleeping Beauty? Why not?  Myths are the contents of (hu)man’s psyche! The story had to have some spark of origination in reality.

Feeling my way in this new state—what it meant, where I needed to go/learn/do next—was like stepping into that blind darkness of the unknown. Who knows what lurks in the scary darkness of the unknown? Who is hero(ine) enough to step into the darkness and look?

Well, that’s where my quirky (and sometimes irritating) trait of forever asking, “Why” would pay off! I was (and have always been) curious as to “Why.” It’s just a question that rolls naturally off my tongue, no matter the situation—much to the chagrin of family, friends, bosses, especially. And for every answer to the question ‘Why?” you can continue to ask “Why?” yet again ad infinitum. Even though I felt hesitant and tentative, I also felt compelled to go forward, lay trepidation aside and follow through as many “why’s” as I could find the bravery to do so.  The Mesmarriah Miracle dream came a few years after The Catalyst. Was she the new life I had just awoken to, symbolic for my true Self?  In that case, I had just joined the Circus. I could then only assume it was The Circus known as Life.

I decided I must stop clinging to being asleep and let the river take me where it knew I should go.

Clinging I Shall Die of Boredom