Dreamwork was a significant contributor to my personal growth in my 20s and 30s. It became a constant companion in my healing repertoire—one that helped me listen more deeply to myself, beyond what my waking mind could easily articulate.
I’ve run dream groups at various points throughout my career, and there is something endlessly juicy about giving the subconscious mind the space and presence to communicate directly with you through dreams.
The trick, of course, is learning the language.
While dream symbolism dictionaries are a common tool, I hold them lightly. At best, they’re meant to get you thinking more symbolically—they are not the ultimate translator of your subconscious mind.
Your feelings are.
When clients sense that their dreams are trying to communicate with them, here is part of the exploratory process I guide:
- What was the overall feeling you were left with after the dream?
- What was the emotional tone during the dream?
What’s the difference?
A dream may have a frightening or chaotic tone, yet you wake feeling strangely empowered or clear. Or the dream tone may be neutral or even pleasant, but you wake with a lingering grief or dread. That mismatch is often where meaning lives.
I would also invite the following:
- Which moments felt especially significant, emotionally charged, or interesting?
- If you were to give the dream a title, what would it be? Would there be a subtitle?
- How do you personally relate to elements of the dream?
For example, if there’s a car in the dream—was it just a generic car, or a specific one from your history? Was it functioning well for you? Where were you in relation to it (front seat, back seat, dodging it)? Did you feel safe, anxious, proud, trapped?
And how do you generally relate to cars in waking life—simply transportation, a symbol of freedom, something out of reach?
Favor your emotional response over your intellectual one.
You might intellectually love your grandfather’s antique car, but in the dream you felt afraid of it. Trust the emotion. That fear may be more instructive than the nostalgia. From there, a question might emerge: Where else in my life am I afraid of something I love that comes from my family experience?
Other questions to explore:
- What is actively unfolding in your life or personal growth right now?
- Some people believe every part of a dreamrefers backto you. If that’s the case… how are you the car? Or like the car? Try rewriting the dream from the perspective of being each part of it.
(For example: “I love my ability to get where I’m going, but I’m stuck in the back seat, feeling out of control—and that scares me.”)
If you’re curious, start writing down your dreams—ideally capturing them before you move or get out of bed—and gently play with interpretation. Once you begin this communication pathway by becoming the listener, your subconscious mind often responds by trusting it can speak more and be heard.
You may be surprised by the growth that happens just from paying attention.
(And why this sudden change in topic? Well, I recently helped with another dream interpretation, and… I’ve been feeling a desire to experience more magic as I build more community. Suddenly, I’m picturing a group that involves listening to the subconscious, engaging mindful creativity, and creating real-life change from the insights. But—staying consistent with the theme of this quarter—I’ll let this idea slow simmer until clarity emerges. Let me know if this sounds intriguing.)