Gimme Shelter column: What we share

I walked into the factory with the rest of the day shift. I was thinking how difficult the work would be today, but was happy I had a job and income during these terrible times.

In the nearly empty cafeteria my brother was sitting alone at a table in the corner. When I sat down across from him, he said, with a solemnity that was unlike him, “I’ve got it.”

He didn’t have to say what “it” was. My breath caught in my throat. I started to speak, but before I could, he said, “I have to leave.”

A kind woman in medical scrubs, mask and gloves, approached and my brother got up, turned and began to walk away with her. I started to get out of my chair to follow, but two goons on either side of me held me back, twisting one arm behind me almost to my neck as I shouted and struggled.

Mary was calling my name softly from somewhere as I continued to shout and try to break free, and then she had her hand on my chest, still gently saying my name. “A dream,” she said. “You’re all right, you’re all right,” and continued to soothe me until my heart stopped racing.

How are your dreams these days? More vivid, more baffling?

You’re not alone.

A recent Harvard study has confirmed that people are having dreams that are more intense and lucid than before the pandemic. The study also found some similar images people are having in the dream state — tidal waves, lethal injections (Clorox, anyone?) and wriggling, white worms.

Psychologist and author Ian Wallace has written: “We’re only consciously aware of about 2% of what’s going on around us and the other 98% — most of that is emotional — and we use our dreams as a way of understanding those emotions … In a situation like this pandemic, where emotions are heightened, people’s awareness of their dreams are also heightened, and these dreams might seem more vivid and more scary.”

Tell me about it, Doc.

I practically never have nightmares, and have no trouble sleeping. I remember my dreams for the most part when I wake, until they slowly evaporate and are gone. Once I kept a dream journal for a while, scrawling random phrases when I woke in the night describing images or pieces of dialogue.

The remarkable part is, that when I looked at the journal six months later, just reading a few words jotted down when half-awake brought the dream back in its entirety, like replaying a video from the start, every part preserved.

Mary said she wanted to do the same, but not write things down, so I bought her a super-fancy tape recorder for Christmas. Going to bed that night, she placed the recorder on the bedside table and said, “This is fun. I can’t wait.”

We turned out the light. She poked me awake in the morning, saying happily, “I recorded a dream last night.” I hadn’t heard her speaking (sound sleeper, remember). She played the tape, and deep breaths came on and then, “Laff gus dul and … las us .. ved … gol … zem …” and them long, soft, deep breaths again.

When I said I could analyze the dream for her, she wouldn’t speak to me until after the first cup of coffee.

The person who conducted the dream study at Harvard, Deirdre Leigh Barrett, an assistant professor of psychology, discovered that millions of people around the world having similar, powerful dreams is not unprecedented.

“Events like 9/11 changed the way people dreamed for a time, making their dreams more intense and memorable in the days after the attacks,” she said. “It seems feasible that the coronavirus pandemic, which has personally impacted almost everyone on Earth, could have a similar impact.”

And a study at Tufts University School of Medicine found that previous research on dreams “after trauma and stress have found increases in the power of the central image of the dream … The assumption is that the events of 9/11 produced mild trauma or at the very least emotional arousal in everyone living in the United States.”

Theories of dreams continue to evolve: from folklore that dreams tell our future to Freud’s interpretation of dream imagery as symbols unlocking the subconscious. Newer ideas propose that dreams give us clues to what’s concerning us right now, and not when we were in the crib or pre-school. And there’s a school of thought that dreams are just a rinse cycle for the brain, to go through images and memories that have piled up during our day.

“Dreaming is a reflection of healing,” said Rubin Naiman, a professor of medicine and a sleep and dream specialist at the University of Arizona.

We all know what he means. In the aftermath of my nightmare, I knew the bond my brother and I had would always be unbroken.

Loved ones who have died, even decades before, do come to us — mostly to comfort — but always to remind us of the gifts they’ve given, especially that of dependability during uncertain times.

They are there, even as their faces fade on waking, like mist in sunshine.