Dream On

Dreams, Edgar Allen Poe suggested in one of his better-known poems, may walk hand-in-hand with reality and might be indistinguishable from real-life events. He repeats the same thought, first as a statement, then as a question: “All that we see or seem/Is but a dream within a dream,” and “Is all that we see or seem/But a dream within a dream?” 

No telling, Eddie P. wrote. Dreams have intrigued people for thousands of years. Poets and artists and philosophers approach them from one angle, scientists from another. Despite numerous studies, there is no consensus about why we dream or their principal effects. Notable theories propose that dreams help us process memories and deal with emotions. 

I tend to think of dreams as the brain off the clock, free to wander and create and prowl around the attic, unburdened by waking attention to work and kids and fetching groceries and navigating the healthcare system. I dream most nights, but the details usually evaporate seconds after I wake up. There’s a recurring theme, however, that sticks with me. 

You know the dream where you walk into a college classroom to take an exam for a class you haven’t attended and have done none of the work? I routinely have the sportswriter’s version of that dream. I arrive to cover a game between two teams that I’ve never seen and know nothing about. 

There are always variations. I arrive late, after the game has begun. I don’t have pen or paper to take notes. There are no notes or statistics about the teams. I don’t have a laptop to write a game story. I don’t have a seat from which to watch the game and must piece together an account from the radio or TV broadcast in the press room. I don’t have a desk or space to work when I return to the office to write a story. Sometimes, there’s a combination of obstacles. One recent twist within the theme was that I had to write a story on a recruit’s college choice, but I couldn’t talk to the kid. 

It'd be nice to remember the happier dreams, but I don’t. I have no idea if my brain is plumbing my (formerly) professional anxieties or just having fun at my subconsciousness’s expense. I don’t know if others’ brains work similarly and mechanisms are geared toward their pursuits and worries. Like, if Dave dreams about walking into a class to teach a book he hasn’t read, or if Z or Marls have to go into a courtroom and argue a case they know nothing about. Does Rob ever find himself trying to sell AI services to a roomful of homeless people? Or are your dreams sunnier and more productive? Does Whit dream that he persuades Bill Gates and Tim Cook and Nvidia microchip chieftain Jensen Huang to relocate their operations to Hampton Roads? 

Research about dreams travels down numerous paths. Freud in the late 19th century theorized that dreams represented unconscious desires and leaned heavily into repressed feelings and sexual motivation. Though many of Siggy’s ideas have been refuted, research indicates that suppressed thought tends to result in dreaming about it, something called dream rebound theory. 

Another theory is that REM sleep triggers the brain to create electrical impulses and a compilation of random thoughts, images and memories that people organize when they wake, something called Activation-Synthesis Dream Theory. One called Self-Organization Dream Theory posits that the brain organizes the day’s activity while we sleep and memories are strengthened or weakened; helpful memories are made stronger, while weaker ones fade (yeah, tell that to my scrambling sportswriter dreams). 

There’s a problem-solving or creative dream theory that accounts for people waking up in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning with “Eureka!” moments. Yet another says that dreams help to prepare us confront dangers – fight-or-flight, uncomfortable situations – known as Rehearsal and Adaptation Dream Theory. Emotional Regulation Dream Theory says that dreams help people process their emotions within the safe space of sleep. 

There’s even something called Lucid Dreaming, where a dreamer is aware of being in his or her own dream and sometimes having control over its content, though that occurs more rarely. Much of this gets to the “what” of dreams, but not the “why.” We’d like to believe that our subconscious is assisting us – organizing memories, providing coping mechanisms, smoothing the day’s edges. But then how to explain nightmares and the agitation of bad or troubling dreams. Do dreams talk us off ledges in a non-threatening setting, or do our brains simply spit back a mashup of the day’s, or a life’s, input? Might we ever learn how it all works? To quote Eddie P. in a different context: Nevermore.