Today I am sitting at my computer thinking about the pleasant dream I had last night, the kind of dream that lets you know that everything is on the right track again, convincing me that a fairy has been dusting my bed with positive energy every night for the last few weeks, my nightmares now a part of my blurred subconscious.
Joseph Campbell, in an interview with Bill Moyers, suggested that we take the snippets of our dreams and write them down. He patiently explains to Moyers that the "body of the dream" has something to do with our "personal experiences" and that there is a clear difference between the mythic dreams of society, and the personal dreams that develop from the "inner psyche."
But my own dreams are a strange mixture of classical epic hero and modern day anti-hero, the strange psychology of a working class woman struggling with issues similar to everyone else in my socioeconomic and professional world, but with a few exceptions. And maybe my exceptions are the dusty material of dreams, dreams that sway back and forth between the nomadic displacement of the lost and misguided, into the bright and colorful, the luminous dreams of human bonds that matter, such as true friends and loyal lovers.
None of us can ask Joseph Campbell what he thinks about our dreams, but we can read his books and pull some answers. And after reading almost everything he has published, I would venture to say that he would tell me that even though my dreams are as unusual as my life, my dreams are connected to all of the other dreams. I'm not the only lonely, nomadic, lost soul, nor am I the only woman with true friends and bonds that matter, but, instead, I am a part of all of the worlds that have come before, and I will remain a part of them, just as you will.