I caught part of BBC’s Songs of Praise last night. Well, it was on the TV, and I have spent enough years in my former life as an active Christian to have a strong cultural resonance with some of the music, and there was nothing else in particular to do, so I watched.
In the interviews, where an earnest and intense presenter (in this case, Pam Rhodes) has to try to do the religious bit by getting participants to talk about their faith (nothing too zealous or evangelical mind you, as that would offend the vast heathen or multi-faith audience and a lot of Christians too - just something bland, gentle and reassuring), I was struck by the power of wishful thinking.
The theme of the programme was ‘visions and dreams’ and how the almighty can communicate with us through our cranial ephemera. I saw two of the interviews where the interviewees confidently spoke about how god had spoken to them directly.
One lady, in her sixties, recounted an event following the death of the 20 year old son from cancer. She was praying following her recent bereavement and was in deep distress. Suddenly she was ‘transported’ and was flying over a beautiful forest (but she says she knows she still had her feet on the ground), and eventually she saw a young man who later turned out to be her son. The gist of it was that this was a god-given assurance that her son was in heaven (not a forest, mind you) and that she would see him again. I found myself thinking that, in her highly emotional state, her mind had produced a ‘vision’ of what she desperately wanted to see and know.
The second interview was with a lady in her forties (I can’t help but wonder if there are gender issues here) who had been to a healing workshop on dreams run by a ‘dream expert’ vicar. She described a dream in which she had been prevented from taking part in god’s work. When asked by the vicar how that related to her present life, she described frustration at not being active enough in god’s work. They both then seemed to conclude that that was what god was saying to her - that she needed to get more involved in god’s work. And if two people agree what god is obviously saying, then it must be clear and true. And again, I found myself thinking that her mind had produced a dream reflecting what she was thinking and feeling at the time.
Most competent psychotherapists who use dreams as a way of helping people understand themselves these days, tend to avoid the symbol approach - this symbol means that, and that is what the dream means - though there are hundreds of dream symbol books if you want to play that game. There is a recognition that dreams are a way of helping us process the unprocessed conscious and unconscious thoughts and especially feelings - a kind of overflow pool where ’stuff’ gets poured.
The two key questions that most therapists would ask are:
1) When you were having that dream, what were you feeling?
2) Does that feeling relate to anything specific, or anything more general, that is going on/has gone on in your life?
Of course, there may not be an obvious answer, and the dream may be a random collection of images. However, at other times, there may be significant links. So, for example, many people have anxiety dreams when they are worried about something - and of course, for some, that worry may be so long-standing that it is now barely noticed by them consciously.
As a rule of thumb, when you find something you don’t understand, go for the simpler, most obvious explanation first. What I find disturbing is that in both of the above cases, the more straightforward explanation has been rejected and a much more complicated and unlikely one introduced. It involves the invention of a mythical friend (that no-one can see) who speaks vaguely through dreams and visions (that have to be interpreted) telling people what they already want to hear, and which leaves them frighteningly confident and sadly comforted. I say ’sadly comforted’ because if you are going to build a house, make sure it is built on rock and not on sand. Comfort based on an illusory truth is delusional.
You can read almost anything into a dream if you try hard enough. I don’t tend to analyse mine. Often I find that something on the periphery of my mind (often something unacknowledged - a worry that I am pushing away or something like that) becomes the central focus of a dream. My brain seems to want to get its message across whilst I am not distracted by other things. I actually find that rather helpful. But most of my dreams are just peculiar and the only ones I dislike are those which leave me feeling shaky when I wake up. I am sure many of them could be interpreted as some message from God if someone chose to do so.
My initial thought was that, if nonsensical things like believing God is speaking to you in your dreams, makes you feel better than I suppose it is fine. It is better than turning to alcohol maybe. But you are probably right and delusion is not a great way to recovery or true solace.
I try really really hard to understand how people can believe in God but I just don’t get it. I know you did and maybe as a small child, I did too. I always want to shake religious people and say “Look! This is your life, get on and enjoy it and stop worrying about what comes next - because nothing does. You are only answerable to yourself - so be true to yourself and get on with living your life. ” Maybe living a god-fearing life is good for society as a whole (maybe?) but it is rarely good for the individual.
Reluctant Blogger
I always want to shake religious people and say “Look! This is your life, get on and enjoy it and stop worrying about what comes next - because nothing does. You are only answerable to yourself - so be true to yourself and get on with living your life. ” Amen to that!
Maybe living a god-fearing life is good for society as a whole (maybe?) but it is rarely good for the individual. I would disagree with the maybe. Just look at the history and 9/11. God-fearing lives clog up cognitive evolution and cause people to fly planes into buildings!
who speaks vaguely through dreams and visions (that have to be interpreted)
Fascinating article. I like to read stuff that helps me de-program myself from the default interpretations I embraced as a Christian.
Yes, dreams are “vague.” You’d think that if God is going to trouble Himself speaking to us in dreams He would care to be more clear.
I also agree that we dream about prevalent themes in our lives. If I followed my dreams as guidance from God, I would’ve made even more mistakes in life than I have, since my dreams are just me expressing myself weirdly and disturbingly.
With regard to the flying planes into building thing, I truly believe that the vast majority of people are programmed to need to believe in something. People drift naturally to cliques and common interest groups and fall out over the most trivial things when they are part of them. If you stripped religion out they would just fight over something else. It always makes me chuckle to see all sorts of people grouping together - atheists too! I do not believe in god but I do not need to belong to a group of other people who do not believe in god, I am just happy to be me and do it on my own. It’s the same with being gay - I have no interest in joining a group. I am just me. If everyone were like that there would just be one big group of individuals, perhaps fewer wars but nothing much would get done, nothing would be organised. What I meant was that society needs groups and if the groups were not religious they would be something else just as “bad” or “good” that would cause people to argue and fall out.
Well put.
And true. Dreams are really the most fascinating of phenomenons. But most probably a random collection and mixture of feelings of guilt, scares, anticipations etc.
When I was finishing my PhD in Biology, I remember a fellow student who told me about a number of her dreams that had been ‘verified’ later on. She seemed quite convinced there was something to it. She was a smart girl, quite able to reason for herself on any other subject.
But I told her about my distrust in the matter. That we dream every night, but (as usual) only count the ‘hits’ and never the ‘misses’. Having survived past the thirties, like we had, that adds up to a number of ‘true’ predictions.
I also told her about my most frightening of dreams. Hearing my hapless dad screaming in agony behind a door I couldn’t find a way to get open. I had woken up in a pool of sweat, as I felt he was growing old and I always felt insufficient to help him.
I had phoned him the day after, I told her. He felt ‘extraordinary well’ and understood none of my anxiety. More than ten years later he died from maltreatment after a stroke. I never anticipated it or dreamt about it when it happened, but was relieved and relaxed after having found a new job at the time. It just happened.
I don’t pay much attention to my dreams, as I know that I can interpret them to mean anything at all, if I so desire. I don’t remember most of them at all, which may be because I dismiss them as soon as I wake up.
And then there’s of course the old story from Francois Truffaut’s interview book with Alfred Hitchcock. The old director tells of a young colleague he heard about, who always got his best ideas from dreams, but (as most people) couldn’t recall them.
He decided to keep a note pad handy by his bedside, just to make sure he would be able to write the story down, should he ever experience the right dream again.
One night it happened and the director flung for his notebook to write, just to immediately go back to sleep.
The next morning he woke up and went to the bath room to shave. He suddenly remembered having the most intricate of dreams and cursed himself for not writing it down. But the next moment he recalled his new routine and rushed back to to his night table to locate the piece of paper that had to be there. He found it quickly and read:
“Young boy meets pretty girl and love ensues”…