By Star Zahra
A few years ago, I had surgery. The details are traumatic, and the wounds linger—not just on my body but deep within my heart. I remember the cold, sterile room: a bed in the centre, tools neatly arranged on a tray.
The dream opened to a big garden. They were many happy children, laughing and playing around. Colourful flowers and lollipops grew out of the ground. I don’t think I was conscious of the sky. The garden had dark green shrubs that looked so healthy and as I stepped in, a little boy came to me smiling. Beside him was the most beautiful girl. He gave me a tour and I remember feeling so happy like the joy in there was contagious. When I opened my eyes again, I was still in the room and my surgery was ongoing. .
My experience with the surgery and my dream was very profound. I wondered about it. How I had transitioned from that room into a safe space that helped me get through what was happening. The dream felt like a refuge, a place my mind created to shield me from the trauma. It made me wonder: is this what the subconscious does—construct landscapes of meaning that resonate and interpret events?
I’ve always been a dreamer and a dear friend of déjà vu. I’ve dreamt all my life and remembered them so vividly that when I dream now, I can tell I am in a dream. Lucid dreaming, it is called.
I only recently found out that there are people who do not dream. Science suggests they just do not remember.
Sometimes, dreams are meaningful, omens or memories being revisited. At other times, they appear to be distorted images of the mind, just wandering. The mind does not sleep and so dreams are limited to our bodies. The mind is an intangible plane and I personally think that dreams are the closest way we could ever possibly understand and explain its nature.
I don’t believe that dreams are imminently important to the grand scheme of things but I do think they are a very interesting phenomenon in people with a heightened sense of awareness.
