Appreciating the Dream

as a Spiritual Practice

Over the weekend, I found a cardboard box marked US Media Mail on our front doorstep. I didn't recognize the return address, but upon opening the box, I exclaimed, "Oh, I had completely forgotten about this project." Several years ago, Duke University asked me to contribute an essay to a new volume focused on spiritual practices. Experience: Spiritual Formation in Theological Field Education is the result. It's a collection of 43 short essays. Each chapter presents a different perspective on spiritual practices, from singing to breadmaking to one titled "Trees, Rocks, Water, Hills." I wrote the chapter on Dream Appreciation and included a portion of that essay below. If you've read my book Dreaming as Spiritual Practice, you'll recognize elements of that book in this essay.

Next week, I’ll teach a course called “Dreams of the Bible and Other Sacred Literature” at the United Lutheran Seminary. Some of you have asked about this class, and I’ll be working on an online presentation of the material. I’ll let you know when that’s ready, and maybe we can have a Zoom session or two on the subject matter. I’ll keep you posted.

May you have epiphanies during this season of Epiphany.

Jim

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Dreams have long fascinated, frightened, and intrigued us. It's no wonder that interpreting and appreciating dreams extend back to the beginning of time. Ancient societies embraced dreams as part of spiritual practice, offering a gateway into the depths of the human psyche and the divine. The art of decoding dreams holds a transformative power, guiding individuals and whole societies toward self-discovery, healing, and spiritual growth.

In the Hebrew Bible, the amazing, confounding, and delightful book of Job includes a curious character named Elihu. He arrives on the scene after many of Job's friends have offered countless explanations for why Job is suffering. During the dialogue between Job and Elihu, Job expresses his disgust with God and wonders, "What good is this God anyway, and why do we even need God?" (My paraphrase.) In Chapter 33, Elihu delivers a speech that contains this often-overlooked insight.

"But let me tell you, Job, you're wrong, dead wrong! God is far greater than any human. So how dare you haul him into court and then complain that he won't answer your charges? God always answers, one way or another, even when people don't recognize his presence. In a dream, for instance, a vision at night, when men and women are deep in sleep, fast asleep in their beds— God opens their ears and impresses them. - (Job 33:12-15, The Message)

How does God answer our prayers, laments, and pleas for guidance? Elihu offers one answer. "In a dream, for instance, a vision at night, when men and women are deep in sleep, fast asleep in their beds." The Hebrew and New Testament Scriptures are filled with dreams: Jacob dreams of angels descending the ladder in Genesis 28:12. Joseph serves as the interpreter of Pharoah's dreams in Genesis 41:1-36. Solomon encounters God in a dream in 1 Kings 3:5-15. Joseph receives a visitation in a dream in Matthew 1:20-25. In Matthew 27:19, Pontius Pilate's wife reports a dream of great significance, which is ignored.

Dreams are central to many of the world's religions, including Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam. Some researchers speculate that dreams and death might be the twin towers shaping faith development in human beings dating back to the earliest hominids. The theory goes that as our ancestors witnessed the loss of family and tribal members to death, they met them in the dream world. This led to storytelling, followed by rituals around campfires, which may have included chanting, dancing, and reciting dreams that provided meaning and comfort to grieving people. The origins of spirituality and the religious impulse may be found in dreams. It's possible our ancestors gathered around the village campfire and told of seeing their loved ones who had passed away in their dreams. Over time, rituals that included song and dance were added to these gatherings. One can catch glimpses of the beginning of religion in this process. (Kelley Bulkeley, Dreaming in the World's Religions: A Comparative History, 7-8.)

Dreams are very much a part of human beings' sacred journey. While the language is not always straightforward because the unconscious speaks in symbolic language, dreams are among the ways God speaks to people. Could dreams be a part of spiritual direction in a congregation or another context? Yes, they could, and many have conducted dream groups in various settings, including churches, synagogues, prisons, schools, hospitals, libraries, and other community settings.

What are dreams? In recent years, we've learned that dreams are closely related to the stage of sleep known as REM sleep, so named because of the rapid-eye movements one can witness while another is sleeping. Approximately four or five times in an average person's evening of sleep, we drop down into this state of the sleep cycle. In case you are wondering, most mammals dream. This electrochemical activity produces images and storylines. During this time, parts of our brains become highly active. The general conclusion of researchers is that the brain does not "turn off;" instead, it kicks into high gear.

The theories around dreams are varied, but most people now believe that dreams connect our conscious minds with our unconscious minds. This is at the heart of the research conducted in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries by people like Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. A lesser-known researcher named Fritz Perls developed the concept that dreams are a pathway to integration. We grow, mature, and move toward wholeness as we integrate aspects of our unconscious into our conscious mind. Perls, Jung, and others further developed the idea that dreams serve many functions:

“Dreams help our bodily health. Dreams help us integrate strong emotions. Dreams engage in creative problem-solving. Dreams weave new learning into our memory. Dreams are compensatory.” Fritz Perls

Dreams can be just plain weird. But they are also filled with powerful symbolic imagery. For instance, a man I know left his career as an executive to become a public school teacher. As he made this transition, he dreamt of a baby surrounded by light floating over the threshold of a doorway he was to walk through. He came to view this dream as a symbol of stepping through the opening to a new chapter in life.

In my late 40s, I experienced a time of significant anxiety about my career as a minister. At the time, I doubted my role and worth. I had a dream in which I welcomed a bishop who was to preach at my church, which appeared as an old decaying stadium in crumbling ruins. After the worship service, the bishop introduced a woman to me. She looked at me and said, "You must rebuild your pastorate." In retrospect, the dream is relatively straightforward, but I remember not telling anyone about it for years because it contained some other disturbing elements. My dream informed me that I needed to begin the task of my second half of life: rebuilding an interior pastorate. This word, pastorate, originates from the Latin pascere, to lead to pasture, and the noun "pastor," a shepherd. Indeed, my calling shifted from rebuilding that old stadium in ruins to building an interior pasture, a lush, fertile land suitable for growing new crops.

Sigmund Freud once wrote that dreams are the royal road to the unconscious. Before Freud and Jung, there were the mystics, the shamans, and the medicine men and women who helped people incubate the imagery and symbols emerging from within. Indeed, the gods were the sources of health and healing. Yahweh spoke to the Hebrew people of old. Elihu was right. His often-ignored speech from the book of Job is an ancient reminder that God speaks to people through dreams. They are but one way to wisdom, however weird that may be.

More to Come,

James Hazelwood is the author of several books, including Ordinary Mysteries: Reflections on Faith, Doubt, and Meaning. His website is www.jameshazelwood.net. This “Notebooks” newsletter is typically published twice a month on Substack.