Discover Your Imaginative Underworld
Why You Should Keep A Dream Journal
Here is a sobering thought — every image, sensation, and emotion that you experience finds its way into your subconscious. Nothing is forgotten but simply stored away in its own particular pigeon-hole in your beautiful mind.
And as we carry on living, we continue to add to our personal store of memories.
Well, that is the view accepted by the principal schools of psychology. And some also believe that each of us, through our subconscious, can access THAT which created us and allows our life, and all living things, to exist and flourish on this planet.
Surely, this is the stuff that dreams are made of.
The famous Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung, believed that dreams were the key to understanding the personality, and the nature of a dream could signpost the cause of a psychic problem that needed attention to maintain a balanced mind.
He also introduced the concept of the ‘Collective Unconscious’; an accumulation throughout human history of memory elements and archetypes that we all share and can experience during periods of rest and contemplation.
Many writers have taken the trouble to record their dreams (if remembered) because they realise that the contents of the vast storehouse of the personal subconscious and the collective unconscious can be an infinite source of invention for the creative individual.
They realise dreams mean something and are not just an insignificant nocturnal movie.
Throughout history, literary figures and artists have often declared that some of their finest ideas have come from their dreams. Plots have been communicated and solutions to problems of characterisation have miraculously appeared during sleep.
As a writer, you may well benefit from understanding the language of dreams. There are many books available that will help you interpret and analyse any images, symbols, and emotions that appear in your dreams.
So, if you’re a writer, should you keep a Dream Journal and, if so, what benefit can it be to your creative output?
Recording Your Dreams
When you remember your dream, write as much detail as you can in your Dream Journal. Just get it down on paper. Don’t analyse as you write, just record it. This is an excellent way of stimulating the daily writing habit.
Personal Knowledge
The act of journaling your dreams will definitely help you understand yourself. Remembering and recording your dreams will often lead to some personal insight or expose some previously hidden truth — pleasant or unpleasant.
We can use this knowledge to create characters for a short story or novel. It can give you an insight into their motivation and how they can fit within your project.
Your Own Ideas Vault
If you regularly record your dreams, you will soon have a vault to plunder for article and story ideas, plot variations, interesting characters, timescapes for your stories, and interesting themes for your work.
Recognising Your Inner Voice
If you believe your dreams act as important signals and are the means of communication from your subconscious, you soon recognise and feel more attuned to your inner voice.
We can all recognise a Higher Being within who wants only the best for us and who wants us to freely express our creative abilities — often despite our negative conscious selves.
If we attempt to understand the unique language of dreams, then as writers, we can access the hidden layers of imagination, language, and emotions that will not only make us better, more exciting writers but more self-aware, confident human beings.
I recently had a dream that was vibrant (I often dream in ‘colour’) and I spent some time writing as much as I could remember in my journal. I include it below, not because I think it is important, but it may serve as an example of how a dream can stimulate a writer’s imagination.
If there are any psychotherapists out there who read it, I would love to know your views and interpretation. It just fascinated me and I was pleased that I could recall it in some detail.
My Dream
I suddenly awoke in a small, dark room that I did not recognise. There was nothing familiar. Even the crumpled heap of clothes at the end of the bed seemed alien to me, but I assumed they were mine, that I had taken them off at some stage.
The single, small window, high near the ceiling, was just revealing a square of pale light. I rose slowly, trying to control the feeling of swirling panic in my stomach.
“Don’t get up just yet,” a calm female voice suggested. ”We’re not quite ready for you. You need to sleep some more.”
Then there was sudden darkness and silence.
Then I was walking in a wide, country lane. The sun was high in a blue, cloudless sky. Dust rose from my feet. The trees on either side were in their full summer splendour. But the birds were silent. I was alone on this hot road.
I turned a corner, and suddenly a great flood of people appeared, walking slowly towards me. I tried to talk to them as they passed, but they acted as if I didn’t exist. A continuous stream of silent humanity trudged onwards, their eyes fixed on an unknown future.
Then I remembered why I was there.
I was looking for the man and his wife who had invited me to the park. Yes, that was it. I was in the park now. But I couldn’t remember who they were or what they looked like.
“Have you seen my friends?” I asked repeatedly, panic in my voice, as the strangers passed, ignoring me. They walked on, staring straight ahead.
The crowd passed. And then I was alone again. I sat down on the path, surrounded by silence.
The air was still like a child sleeping. I put my head in my hands and wept. The sobs came from deep within, rising like molten lava from a great lake of sadness and despair.
“What is wrong, my friend?”
I heard the soft voice of an old man.
“I am looking for my friends,” I whimpered. “But no one is talking to me. They ignore me. I am invisible to them.” I answered with a quavering, emotional voice.
The old man replied.
“We all live with our share of loneliness. There is nothing to fear. It is the natural order.”
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