She texted me “I love you.” My glowing phone screen was the only thing I could see. I didn’t respond to her message. Either I didn’t know what to say, or I didn’t want to say anything. That was the entire dream. At that point, we hadn’t talked for months.
When I woke up, I thought to myself, “Why?”
If you’ve ever been blessed with a random dream like this, you too might relate to asking yourself: “Is this normal?” or “Am I losing my shit?” Throughout the day, I find myself listening to voice memos I’ve recorded right after waking up, attempting to pick apart my nonsensical dreams, searching for some kind of meaning.
When I think of dreams, I historically have thought about it in two categories: good dreams and bad dreams — or nightmares. Funnily enough, for many of us, this mindset has developed from fairy tales or movies we read as children — mine personally coming from Rise of the Guardians. Nightmares such as getting chased by zombies, or finding a monster under the bed. As kids, our imagination created fantastical dreams. As one freshman put it:
Alec Kong PO ’29: Shit would just start coming alive.
That’s how he described his childhood dreams – spontaneous and surreal. But, are your dreams as spunky, weird and colorful as they used to be? So I asked:
What are your dreams like now?
AK: They are more like “what-if” scenarios.
Alison: Can you elaborate?
AK: I think I had a dream where my family died entirely. I was the only person left. It was just me, at home, but without my family.
Dreams like Alec’s represent a new version of our dreams in adulthood. Not exactly the boogy man nightmare kind of deal, but still heavy, emotional and unpleasant. They deal more with fears that we think about yet don’t say out loud, like losing people we love. Fears we hold subconsciously. Fears we could benefit from talking about.
From the range of interviews that I conducted, and my own personal experiences, dreaming about loss is common. I asked another freshman about her most memorable dream.
Aria Zhang PO ’29: I dreamt about losing my mom and I remember I woke up crying. I was shocked because I didn’t know I could wake up crying like that.
As we grow, our dreams start to mirror our emotional evolution as we enter adulthood, the years when we begin to understand what loss is. While we’re not thinking about our best friends and family dying everyday, these are fears that continue to exist in the back of our mind. Now, as college students, all of us are at a point where we’ve likely grieved or lost something. Maybe you’ve experienced losing a close family member, a distant relative or a pet. Or perhaps a loss that’s not as explicit: the end of a childhood friendship; breaking up with your boyfriend; saying goodbye to a place you called home.
And sometimes, our dreams represent our current fears. Fears that are less “what-if” scenarios, but rather fears that are real. Fears about the political climate. About profiling. About what happens to our families when we aren’t around to protect them. In order to cope or attempt to understand our realities, we tend to dream about potential outcomes.
Anonymous: I had one dream about my sister dying. I’ve always been paranoid for her safety, especially since the recent news in Chicago.
These fears can come up in dreams more commonly as we move away from home for the first time. We have less control and awareness of what’s happening around our family. As we think about them on the daily — stemming from homesickness or concern for safety — unstoppable hypotheticals enter our dreams.
Or maybe you have good experiences, positive dreams you can just laugh about.
Kate Kuan PO ’29: My sister and I both dreamed about a door to a magic martial arts school opening on the same wall of our bedroom. For my sister, it was a normal door. For me I had to do a code knock. We both dreamt that my sister got an award. And the lady who ran it was kinda creepy.
So while our dreams can reflect our fears in life, in some ways they still are representative of our imagination. Of the mini-you that’s still kicking.
For me, one of the dreams that I remember most vividly from my childhood takes place in Mexico. Except, I have no idea where in Mexico. I just know that my parents rented out the most epic Airbnb I could have imagined. This thing was like the fucking Pantheon, a straight up masterpiece. I must’ve really loved bath-tubs at this time, because the only thing I remember about the inside is the bathroom. With a bathtub in perfect condition for bubble baths. It was so close to the ceiling. With stairs leading to it that were as tall as I was. I literally had to climb to get to this bathtub. And a liquid rainbow poured from the faucet. Best. Dream. Ever.
Most recently, I had a dream on campus that was not so joyful. I was at a birthday party for this girl from high school I didn’t like (if you’re my friend reading this, I’m talking about Leila), and I was avoiding socializing, so I went into the bathroom. That’s when I realized the door had extensive locks. An assortment of dead-bolts. I leave the bathroom, and go outside. I’m drawn by a game of tag I hear going on. I run and I run because it’s a fun game, but at some point, it’s no longer fun. It turns into kidnapping. And all of a sudden, I’m running away from these masked men. Who, honestly, look like teletubbies. They get a hold of me. Grip my arms until I can’t escape.
While my childhood dream is a fun read, I think the second is an exact reflection of what I’m afraid of. I think I hold a lot of guilt for leaving my family back in Texas. For what could happen to them right now.
I think that’s what makes dreams worth paying attention to. The ones we remember usually stick with us for a reason. They show us what we think of subconsciously, what we care about more than we realize. Or maybe it’s a magic martial arts school.
Whatever your dreams are, they are uniquely yours. Next time you have a dream, don’t just brush it off. Write it down. Pull out your voice memo app or share it with a friend. You might find yourself laughing, crying or realizing, “oh shit, I think I have a crush on that guy.”
Alison Barrera PO ’29 has an obsession with drawing things on her face. Something about face paint on a random day with water-color eyeliner brings her joy like never before. Flowers, stars, hearts, even dots. Even though she painted it on, she still forgets she’s wearing it.
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