A pig, some keys, and almighty presence
Dreams and Healing
I have been having a lot of vivid dreams of late; a little pet pig and the female line of the family tree… bright blue and green pastures of the past and a big clump of mortice keys… a not so nice dream about a loved one hanging from a piece of string (horrifying but intriguing nonetheless)… and waking up and being in that liminal space with Coleridge’s phrase ‘caverns measureless to man’ repeating and turning into ‘caverns within caverns’…
What is noticeable, though, is that the majority of them have not been anxiety dreams which is unusual for me. Anxiety dreams usually don’t take much imagination to figure out. But other varieties of dreams bring up images for me that my conscious imagination can really play with.
I’m feeling more ‘awake’ because of this interplay between my unconscious and conscious imaginative excursions. Contrary to articles I’ve seen in the past about vivid dreaming being associated with bad mental health – with the focus being on how to stop them from happening, for me, I feel they have value. As Jeanette Winterson put it, ‘…the mind wants to heal itself… the psyche seeks coherence not disintegration… the mind will manifest whatever is necessary to work on the job.’ Yet, we often assume that anything outside of the ‘ordinary’ is dangerous. Perhaps it is, it probably needs to be to also have the potency to heal.
The world needs healing. It seems it always has, perhaps it always will. The dream imagery has led my conscious mind into musings about the flow of life and the unknown source from which it springs. And how best to honour its sacredness. It’s a welcome relief from the speculations of the world at large and a reminder that focusing on all the madness and the badness only adds to it. Paying attention to what is sacred, on the other hand, is like applying a soothing balm; it doesn’t miraculously take the pain away but it helps towards healing and wards off infection.
A couple of days ago I was out walking, in the lovely weather March has gifted us, and found myself looking over an idyllic countryside as the sun was softening down over it. Thinking, ‘what could be more important than this?’ Filled with that sense Coleridge describes in ‘This Lime Tree Bower My Prison’. The paradox at the heart of the poem and the turning point from self-pity to blessedness:
…and of such hues
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Spirits perceive his presence…
The spirit is hidden and yet perceived because of how it is hidden. It might be easy to see the veil itself – the surface level beauty of the scene – much like how we might appreciate a nice picture postcard. But that veil is there to draw our spirit into contact with a deeper ‘Almighty’ presence. Once the presence is felt the speaker is relieved of his psychological sufferings, his ‘prison’ is transformed – he can see the beauty around and within him. His ‘healing’ is only possible, though, through his ability to turn his attention from himself and onto his friend – he hopes the scene he is imagining will be having a restorative effect on his friend.
Learning to attend is vital because it directs our imagination. Without good direction imagination can easily turn into anxiety or paranoia or other more destructive forms, as the adage goes, ‘the dose makes the poison’. It’s not about ignoring or avoiding problems or pain it’s about learning to attend to them better.