To sleep, to dream, to wonder

By Allan R. Andrews
Stripes Managing Editor

First published February 4, 1996, in Pacific Stars and Stripes, Tokyo, Japan


Wonder and mystery live with each of us and visit us regularly in our beds.

My 6-year-old son came to my bedside recently in the dark, quiet hours between midnight and dawn.

``Daddy,'' he complained, ``I woke up, and before I could get back to sleep I had the feeling I was going to have a bad dream.''

I recall this because I had just read an article about dreams that left more questions than it had provided answers.

The newspaper story provided neurological explanations of dreams and completely ignored any mystery.

I cherish my son's phrasing. He wasn't afraid to dream; he feared having a bad dream. Bad or good, I want my son to respect the mystery of dreams.

During the years I thought of being a scholarly researcher, I spent much waking time reading about sleep and dreams.

Since sleepwalking my way into journalism, I retain high interest in anything written about sleep or dreams.

The article I recalled reading that night my son climbed into bed with me noted that what scientists now know about the human sleep cycle is the result of a researcher studying the brain waves of his 8-year-old son.

Which suggested immediately why I gave up on research. Who wants to watch children sleep when they're constantly interrupting parents' sleep?

That researcher in Chicago discovered what is now known as REM sleep, or rapid-eye-movement sleep.

REM sleep, put simply, is the sleep of dreamers.

When a person is sleeping soundly, his or her brain waves are transmitted to an electroencephalograph (or EEG, a brain-wave reader) as smooth, even lines on a graph.

When that same person dreams, the lines on the graph become active and erratic, very similar to the brain-wave pattern of a person who is wide awake. This heightened brain activity while still sleeping is accompanied by rapid jerking of the eyes beneath the closed eyelids -- REM sleep.

Sleep occurs in cycles, beginning with a descent into deep sleep and a return to near waking. One cycle generally lasts about 90 minutes, so if a person sleeps for eight hours, that person will likely sleep through five or six cycles. (Children sleep through a shorter cycle.)

On the rising side of the cycle, about 90 minutes into a night's sleep, the person experiences the first REM period and its accompanying dreams. We dream, in other words, not when we are deeply asleep but when we are close to awake. My son apparently awoke during one of his REM periods and became anxious about returning to his dream if he went back to sleep.

Some people claim they never dream. Experts argue that every person dreams every night, probably five or six times during a full night's sleep; most of us simply don't recall our dreams.

(Drugs, even those designed as ``sleeping pills,'' apparently disturb the fragile REM sleep and prevent dreaming.)

Whatever else we make of them, dreams -- and the accompanying REMs -- provide a sign of a healthful night's sleep.

Herein, however, is the problem. What do we make of dreams?

Everything I've related so far describes the ``how'' of dreams, not the ``why.''

The typical newspaper article on dreams -- like the one I refer to -- relies heavily on scientific sleep research, which describes the sleeping brain processing images that come from inside the brain itself rather than from the stimuli of the world.

My son and I, however, want to know what dreams mean. Science too frequently answers our question why with an explanation how.

Meaning, unfortunately, has never been the strong suit of science -- or of journalism.

The simplest and least mysterious theory of dreams suggests they are the psychic waste of the brain. All the images that bombarded the brain during the day are processed and disposed of in dreams. This theory suggests the only meaning of dreams is that they mean nothing.

This modern theory echoes in part an ancient belief that dreams are curative. Ancient Greece, Babylon and Egypt apparently provided temples at which people dreamed away their ailments.

Ancient cultures put great stock in dreams. The Bible provides several examples of this. The Hebrew Patriarch Joseph's fortunes rose and fell on his interpretations of dreams. In the New Testament story of Jesus' nativity, Joseph and Mary are warned in a dream to avoid King Herod's evil intentions toward the newborn child.

Some contemporary cultures -- Hudson Bay Eskimos, for example -- believe a sleeping person's soul leaves the body during dreams. To wake such a person threatens his soul. The cultures usually punish people who awaken dreamers.

Many cultural ideas about dreams meeting emotional needs were promoted before modern psychoanalysis took over the notion that dreams provide a pathway to our unconscious motives and desires.

How do I convey to my child what his dreams mean?

I want him to enjoy them because I think dreams are part of a wonderful, mysterious world that defies all our logical and scientific explanations and yet are experienced by almost every human person.

Dreaming cannot be denied -- or explained. Scientist or sweeper, sleazeball or saint, we all dream, and our dreaming remains a mystery.

Professor Wilse B. Webb of the University of Florida provided about as good a confession as a scientist can provide in an article in the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

``Among the plethora of theories ranging from those that assert dreaming to be awareness of a god's voice to those that reduce the dream to physical activity in the nervous system,'' Webb writes, ``no single, encompassing theory seems yet to be available.''

In other words, we don't know what dreams mean.

Perhaps, in this overwhelming age of information and explanation arrogance, dreams are meant to preserve our sense of mystery and wonder.

That's how I take them.

Come, son, let us dream and wonder together.

Allan R. Andrews can be reached at arandrews@aol.com


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