Dreaming of the dead
What happens when they visit us in our sleep?
There was only a few inches of sand. We nestled our feet in it, encased by our private cove, looking out at the inky sea.
Something was coming, we both knew it. It was going to change everything. But, in that moment, we held each other. I could see animals - all the animals I’ve ever wanted to see - in the water. Not just those who naturally inhabit the waves, like the whales spinning in the shore but tigers, zebras, bears… They were happy.
The cliffs surrounding them began to burn. We held each other closer. A tsunami was rising, tumbling towards us. I could feel her heartbeat against mine. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
I woke up.
We’re not supposed to share our dreams, are we? They’re borrrriiiing. But I just did. Because, to me, what I just shared wasn’t a dream. It was an experience. One of the most treasured moments of my life. I was there, in that magical yet doomed cove, with my mum. How lovely it was to stand with her, marvelling at those animals, right before the wave hit.
I’ve had many dreams about both my mum and my grandma. Some were deeply distressing: ones where I had raging arguments with them and woke up, adrenaline and regret coursing through my body.
There have been surreal ones, where they took on other forms (I once spent a whole night chasing my mum in the body of a baby, through the streets of Edinburgh) and then there are the ones, like the above, where we have lived something together, something impossible on Earth but entirely possible in the dream space. In those, I truly believe, mum was actually with me. That sleep brought us together once more.
Some might scoff at this, think I’m being farcical. They would tell me dreams are simply memory consolidation, that my brain had mushed together a news story, a David Attenborough documentary and an old memory of my mum into something vivid but entirely made up. Others would urge me to search for the messages within it. To get to the core of the dream’s lesson and impart that wisdom into my daily life.
But it’s my dream. I get to decide what to do with it. And I’ve decided mum and I discovered a hidden beach, populated by rare swimming animals and then we witnessed a tsunami together. It happened. If you’d like to visit that beach, I’m sorry, I can’t find it on Google Maps.
When I asked on my Instagram for others to share stories of their dreams I received so many messages. It’s clear that, although there’s differences in belief as to the source of our dreams, the lives we live when we’re asleep can impact our days. I’d love to offer some advice on how to use these midnight moments wisely, how to summon those we miss terribly for that conversation we never had… But I can’t. An expert in lucid dreaming might be able to.
All I can say is that whatever you do (or don’t) dream, it’s totally normal and I promise I won’t find you boring if you want to tell me about it…
Here’s some of your stories…
“In my dreams my dad doesn’t speak. But he’s super tactile, holding my hand or walking with me arm in arm. There is always this sense that I know he shouldn’t be there but it’s fine, then after a while he has to go. It always upsets me when I initially wake up but I have grown to like it. It helps a bit to keep him close.”
“Shortly after my granddad died I had a dream I was with him. I gave him a very big hug and it was actually quite lovely and peaceful. It felt as if he’d dropped into my head to say goodbye.”
“I haven’t ever had a dream about them. Despite trying really hard to summon them.”
“I feel connected to my dad when I dream of him. But he’s normally unwell, like he was at the end of his life (cancer, what a fucker). Recently I dreamed of him and he was well. It makes me miss him but I also feel so happy to see him every now and then.”
“I lost my mum 18 months ago and I still dream of her a few times a week. For the first few months I found it torture. I’d wake up and slowly come back to the reality all over again. I’m a very intense dreamer and now it falls into my normal dream pattern. If I’m feeling good it can be a nice way to spend time together - my gran says she’s envious of that and would love to have those dreams. If I’m stressed it can be very dark and traumatic. They can be rough, particularly the nightmares but I really believe our dreams are a way to process things and they need to be played out.”
“I was with my nan when she passed away. She had cancer but was fully convinced that with diet and yoga she wouldn’t die. I had dreams where she knew she was dead but would show up and start asking questions. For example, she asked me why I had her book case in my flat. The reason, of course, was because she was dead but I didn’t want to tell her that. It stopped after a while but it was a really horrible time as I felt like I was taking on the burden of telling her she’d passed away as her spirit hadn’t realised yet.”
“I dream of my nanny always before a big life event happens. I get upset in the dream and say ‘but you died!’ and she always says ‘no, I’m around’ It upset me the first time but I really feel it’s like her visiting me now.”
“It was soothing because I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye when they left. They were a significant role in my life, someone who represented safety. When they passed I had been going through a lot of trauma and wasn’t able to be around and that caused me years of deep guilt and blame. I don’t remember the dream much but because of what they represented them appearing made me feel safe again.”
“I had a dream about my step dad after he died. We had a conversation and said how much we missed each other. It felt so real. I felt comfort after.”
“I see both my parents. I always try to write the dreams down to remember and to see if they have a message for me. When I see my mum I’m always hugging her and when my grandpa died two years ago the next day I saw him and he said he was doing well. I think I have a connection with the ones who died in my family to bring messages from them to others.”
“I’ve had dreams about my nana who I was incredibly close to. They used to happen on a regular basis but they don’t happen as often, I’ve always found them very upsetting and have woken up crying. I always feel really down and unproductive the next day an spent time visiting the dream but it also makes me feel like he’s a part of my life. It’s a weird mix of emotions.”
What do you think? Have you had a dream about a late loved one? Or have you found your dreams about them have changed over time? I’d love to carry this conversation on in the comments, so let me know below…
Also if you liked this piece, you might also like to read about when I visited a medium… You can read that here.
Some of my best dreams are the ones about the people who I love that have passed on. These dreams sustain me and make me very happy. My loved ones stay in contact with me and tell me that they still are a part of my life and love me. We choose how to understand our dreams, there is no wrong interpretation. I feel sorry for those who say they do not ever dream or don't remember their dreams, it must be very frustrating for the spirits trying to communicate with them.
Keep up your writing, I appreciate your efforts.