Dreams are fascinating, and from the most ancient of times it has been thought they are the way deities and departed loved ones and others communicate with us. While scientists continue in attempts to understand this function of the brain they are still at a loss to account for the many ways in which this “dream state” translates into our everyday lives, what the real significance of dreams might be.

The fact that so much credence is given dreams being significant was the basis of the classic SciFi thriller “Forbidden Planet.” As scientific as he thought himself Dr. Morbius realized slumber provided a pathway to the “mindless primitive,” the “monsters of the Id,” and dreams figure prominently in all ancient literature, especially that of the Bible. Even today the interest in dreams, their significance, their meaning and interpretation has not lessened. And while mechanical means, predominantly drugs, have been long used to induce trance-like states of mind, and the history of various shamans using such means to contact spirits and open themselves to visions it is the dreams that come to us unbidden in our sleep that pose the greatest fascination for us.

There are nightmares that cause to awaken in a panic drenched with perspiration, there are dreams that may actually presage some momentous or pleasant, even prosaic event; dreams that some recount as warnings, premonitions of impending disasters, but in most cases we seem not to remember our dreams. And quite often the ones we recall seem not to make any sense, and we do not know what that part of our mind is doing that does not slumber while we sleep apart from the tasks necessary for life. But we humans are spiritual beings, and it makes sense to many people that spiritual communication does occur while we sleep.

While dreams are shrouded in much mysticism, that some are called “dreamers” has its roots in this spiritual part of our lives and the dreamers among us are often those acting out their dreams, though not so often as Kevin Costner did in the film. The phrase “I have a dream” has become part of our culture, but MLK knew it would only remain a dream without written expression and practical action directed at its fulfillment. And since the invention of writing, this has been the means of conveying dreams to others. However, no one knows what part dreams, spiritual communion and communication, may play in writing, to what extent some writing may be an attempt to put dreams into comprehensible written expression.

In some ways writing is like scratching on the wall of time, making our marks as though to say “I’m here, I’m alive, and when I am gone remember me.” In this sense some writing might not only be an expression of dreams, but also an expression of our attempts to call attention to ourselves, an attempt at immortality, something that may be conveyed to us in our dreams. It is only in this way we can make sense of some of the glyphs in stone, some of the pictographs, paintings, engravings, even monuments like the Giza pyramids and Stonehenge left by ancient people throughout the world. In many cases graffiti is an attempt by the person to call attention to themselves, an attempt to be recognized, often when they have no other means of expression that will be seen by others.

The publishing of books at one time was a hallmark of literary achievement, and a kind of immortality for those who were successful writers. With the advent of photography and films, these became increasingly popular methods of making scratches on the wall of time, and with TV the best people could hope for in making their scratches on the wall was to be remembered in re-runs. Even the empty suits and talking heads on TV are given to writing books as well as the many entertainment celebrities. There is just something about written expression that transcends all else.

Whether the fascinating Indian artifacts and pictures carved or painted on stone around the valley here that I would come across as a boy, or the marvels I would read about and see in the old National Geographic’s and elsewhere, the question often arising in my mind would be why ancient people felt it so important to do such things? No doubt these things were important to the people who carved or painted the pictures, who built the monuments, but what of the individual persons involved, what were they trying to express about themselves as individual persons? A carving or painting on some rock hundreds or even thousands of years ago may have been done by an equivalent Michelangelo, a Rembrandt or Matisse to those of their time. But most of them were probably the equivalent of writers, most of them ordinary people simply saying “I’m here, I’m alive, and when I am gone remember me.”

Experts in translating glyphs of the past have made sense of many of them, and we know some carvings, paintings and drawings were of a religious nature and attempts to prevail on various deities for one thing or another. And while fascinating I’m also interested in the equivalent “Kilroy Was Here” and those glyphs that were made by the ordinary people of the time, some person simply trying to express themselves as individuals, not just for their tribes or clans but for people in the future to see as well, a kind of groping for some meaningful expression of personal identity to others for both the present and the future.

The day-to-day struggles for existence of our ancient ancestors didn’t leave much time for them to engage in artistic endeavors. It takes a leisure class and wealthy patrons of the arts to produce things like a “David,” but such marvels don’t hold the fascination for me those cave paintings in France do, or even the crude and curious drawings on rocks I would discover as a boy made by the Indians that used to inhabit the Kern River Valley so long ago. While some artists of various civilizations have made great names for themselves, and though I appreciate great art as much as anyone, I find the rough pictographs and other drawings of ancient people far more interesting.

Most are familiar with the “John loves Mary” carved into the trunk of a tree, but did you as a boy ever do such a thing? I did, and I suppose this is why I am more interested in such things left by the ancients than any of their other works of art, than the monuments and inscriptions of ancient kings as important as these are.

The Japanese soldier in “Letters from Iwo Jima” was surprised to discover the letter to the American soldier from his mother read just like a letter from his own mother. The many icons representative of American culture, the monuments and works of art would not have made such an impression. Nor would anything the Japanese left behind on the island been as impressive as those letters.

There are many stories painted and carved in stone told by ordinary people of ancient times long before writing was invented, not to glorify some deity or ruler but simply done to express the thoughts and hopes of the person. And just like that Japanese soldier discovered I don’t doubt the stories would reveal they were people just like us, people with the same dreams and hopes of ordinary people today. Many of these ancient inscriptions have been translated and interpreted, but some experts I believe have missed the mark occasionally by not recognizing the work of some of these ancient people had more to do with their personal hopes and dreams than anything the experts find significant. The “Dreams of the Everyday Housewife” must have been there from the very beginning and found expression in some manner before the advent of writing.

And discounting those like politicians, media and entertainment celebrities that believe their every word should be graved in stone because of ego there is nothing so representative of the hopes and dreams of individuals than personal letters. While the writing of love letters is a lost art form in America, still the personal letters exchanged between loved ones and friends declare the dreams of the writers. But to what degree and in what manner do actual dreams influence our need to communicate with others, and what of our dreams may be conveyed in writing, even unconsciously? I love a mystery, and this certainly belongs with the many other mysteries that occupy my mind, and I don’t doubt while sleeping as well as awake.