I've been interested in dream phenomena since a very young age. One of the first dreams I remember involved thinking I'd woken up in my bedroom aged about 7, only to find various animals appearing in my room, at first as a faint outline and then vividly. In the end, I got out of bed and went to open the door to the landing, only to hear my mother's voice say, “Don't come out. There's snakes out here.” Then I woke up.
How many childhood stories end with that twist? - Alice in Wonderland for a start! In fact, I recall being told at school that this was a kind of 'cop out' cliché ending to give a story when you don't know how to finish it. Well, it worked for Lewis Carroll.
I guess the opposite of the phenomenon of thinking you have woken up when you are still dreaming is what is known as 'lucid dreaming' - when one becomes aware of being in a dream. The natural reaction is to try to wake yourself up, but this invariably seems to fail. After a while, you realise that the best thing to do is to go with the flow and try to manipulate the dream itself for your own entertainment.
My grandfather used to state emphatically that he never dreamed at all, in spite of the impossibility of this, and indeed, for those who don't even remember their dreams such phenomena will sound almost like having a fight with your own mind. I remember as a child having lucid dreams and thinking I was forcing my eyelids open with my fingers, when of course I was laying motionless all along.
In later years, I used to have a similar experience on a regular basis, thinking I'd got out of bed to put the light on, only to find that I was still in total darkness. This was normally the give-away that it was a dream, so rather than panic, I used to open the patio doors and go for a wander around the village where I lived, until my brain was ready to wake me up. Of course, I had not left the safety of the bed in reality.
Winding the clock back to childhood, I remember staying at my grandparents' house and seeing a pneumatic drill being used in a dream while I was there, only to wake up and realise that the sound was in fact my alarm clock going off. My grandparents used to have a 'teasmade' (basically an alarm clock that wakes you up with a cup of tea) and perhaps I heard the kettle boiling while in a dream-state when I dreamed that I could see the tea infusing within the teapot! In both cases, it amazed me how quickly the brain can incorporate an external sound into a dream. In fact, what can seem like hours in a dream is really just a matter of seconds.
This may be because the dream contains the important moments of a sequence of events but not all the boring stuff in between. A dream tends to flick between one event and another more like a film does, rather than playing out an actual 'minute for minute' timeline. The Christopher Nolan film 'Inception' makes good use of this time distortion factor by creating months of time by means of a dream within a dream within a dream within... you get the idea!
Lucid dreams can be particularly fun when you're trying to prove to yourself that you're in a dream by catching your brain out. For example, trying to find the answer to a question that you know nothing about. This could mean picking up a book on an unfamiliar subject and trying to read it, or having a conversation with somebody who is supposed to be an expert on a topic that you know little or nothing about.
A lot of these ideas ended up in some of the stories in my Conundrum anthology, from somebody being stuck in a dream and unable to wake up to another character who invents a machine that can record dreams and ends up unable to distinguish them from reality. It's free to download from most online retailers if you fancy some unusual stories with a (usually dreamlike) twist.
One particularly disturbing experience is sleep paralysis. This occurs when a person is partially asleep and partially awake. Thus, the paralysis that stops a person from acting out their dreams is in full effect but the brain is active.
Far more scary sounding than it actually is is something called 'exploding head syndrome.' This seems to occur in a half-asleep, half-awake state, and involves hearing all kinds of explosions or loud sounds that seem to be coming from within the brain. It's a real thing (see Wikipedia) – I personally experience it sometimes when I first drop off to sleep and the sound normally resembles rushing waves over a high pitched ringing. Sounds bizarre? It is - not my idea of fun at all!
A more common parasomnia (occurrence within sleep) is somnambulism or sleep-walking. I had a brief dalliance with this in my teenage years. I used to wake up during the experience at the opposite end of the room to the bed, disorientated. When I got my first job of cleaning windows, I even woke up finding myself attempting to clean a non-existent window in my wooden bedroom door.
As you can see, I've had a lot of these experiences and I'm not sure if it's simply a case that if you suffer from fairly poor sleep you're more inclined to 'get the lot.'
But why dream at all?
The most sensible theory I've encountered is that dreams merely occur while the brain is filing away information from the preceding day. This would make sense to me – when we sleep badly, we cope pretty poorly with things – perhaps the brain is just in a state of confusion, like a teenager's bedroom. And you're expecting it to find solutions in that kind of chaos?!
What we experience as dreams mostly occur during periods of rapid eye movement (REM), where the eyes move around beneath the eyelids as if the dreamer was awake. This is one of five stages of sleep which vary from shallow to deep, with REM sleep as a kind of fifth 'bonus' stage.
All in all, I think remembering dreams adds a dimension to life that many are not even aware of. How much creativity has been inspired by dreams for example, from music to literature, and from films to art? The bible is filled with dream stories, so it would seem that the ancient people were far more interested in these night-time adventures than most folk are today. It's true that people believed that dreams contained premonitions, a view that few would share today, but this isn't to say that dreams have nothing to offer the dreamer at all.
The brain can often find solutions to problems while it's doing its filing, and the dreamer merely has to ask what the specific things within the dream mean to them personally and join up the dots. Sometimes the idea is helpful; other times just 'bleeding obvious.' I used to often dream of travelling on a train, only to find that there were no rails beneath it and then later there was no train at all – I was just walking along a disused track-bed. It seems fairly obvious to me that this implies a lack of a clear direction or a sense of not reaching any particular destination fast. Thankfully I don't have that dream now, so either I've found a direction or resigned myself to not having one!
Peculiarly, I have noticed that many dreams seem to exist in a time-warp. I hardly ever dream of being at my current home, or even the one before that. Time and time again, my dreams seem to take place in my parents' house (pre-2000) or my grandparents' house (pre-1997). My old jobs also seem to feature quite heavily too. I wonder if the experiences of early life merely have a greater impact on the mind and therefore the brain interprets everything through these memories.
Another thing with dreams is that the brain never seems to accurately replicate a real-life location. Normally the dreamer just accepts what the brain is presenting as reality, but upon waking realises that the scene was pretty far off the mark. I guess these dreamscapes are like the vaguely familiar pictures that the mind conjures up when imagining a location in a book - generally our personal idea of what is being described roughly takes on features of familiar places. I also find that people rarely look the same in dreams and that often a person can morph into somebody else completely half way through the dream without me even realising. Yet conversely, I find that music sounds astonishingly real in dreams, as do recognisable voices.
Whilst dreams are often dismissed as having little value these days, it does seem to me as though they give us a glimpse of how the brain actually works in interpreting the real world. On that thought, I'll let John Lennon have the final word on the matter, with a line from what is perhaps his most popular song (Imagine); - “People say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.”
Indeed, there are over seven billion others.
STOP PRESS: Adam Colton's short novel 'The Dream Machine (Labyrinth of Dreams' was released in 2020. It is a psychological sci-fi tale concerning a machine that can record dreams.
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