DOUBT, WONDER, AND THE LANGUAGE OF DREAMS
By Connie Martindale, L.C.S.W. Psychotherapist (Retired)

 

Welcome back. In this second post, we explore our skepticism about the power of dreams, the awe we feel toward nature (yet often deny ourselves), and the symbolic language that makes dream work so profound.

 

DOUBTING THOMAS

Why do we doubt that a purposeful intelligence resides within us, waiting to be acknowledged? Why do we dismiss Freud’s notion that dreams are “the royal road to the unconscious”? Why is it difficult to believe that there is a deeper Source within us, quietly seeking our attention?

 

We marvel at the mysteries of nature with little hesitation. A single documentary on the Discovery Channel can leave us breathless, revealing the intricate and awe-inspiring beauty of the natural world. From the delicate structure of a butterfly’s wing to the synchronized movement of starlings in flight to the vast celestial dance of galaxies—science offers elegant explanations for these wonders. Yet beyond explanation, there is feeling. A moment of wonder— a sense of the sacred.

 

I recently planted a butterfly garden in my backyard. As I sat on the grass, taking in the violet catmint, the bright pink yarrow, the golden hues of Asiatic lilies, and the milkweed waiting for Monarchs to arrive, I felt something beyond satisfaction. It was a moment of reverence—an awareness of being part of something vast, interconnected, and alive.

 

Consider the Monarch butterfly. After its astonishing transformation from caterpillar to winged wonder, it instinctively waits for its wings to dry before taking flight. How does it know to wait? How does it know how to travel from Mexico to Canada? Encoded within its very being is an innate wisdom, a deep knowing that guides its journey.

 

And yet, when it comes to our own inner nature, we hesitate. We shrink our own capacity for insight. Why should we believe that the same natural intelligence shaping the butterfly does not also reside within us?

 

If we listen to our dreams—if we engage with them rather than dismiss them—we begin to understand the vastness of our own inner landscape. Dream work invites us to see ourselves as part of something greater. It offers us a window into the sacred. When we treat dream work as a natural and valued ritual, we bring that connection into our daily lives.

 

The 13th-century Sufi poet Rumi captured this beautifully when he wrote:

“Wherever the soul goes at night,
my roof is in that direction.”

 

THE LANGUAGE OF DREAMS

Dreams speak in the language of symbols and metaphors. Trying to decipher a dream is much like interpreting poetry—it resists a straightforward, literal explanation.

 

Consider Robert Burns’ famous line: “O my Luve is like a red, red rose.” Why a rose? What does a rose evoke in us? Beauty, fragrance, delicacy? The feeling of being in love? Yet a rose also has thorns—it can wound. The color red might symbolize passion, but it might also symbolize blood.

 

Dream imagery is deeply personal. A red rose in one person’s dream might represent love; in another, it could bring up painful memories. The true meaning of a dream symbol is not found in rigid interpretations but in the feeling it stirs within us. This is why I find it troubling when books or articles reduce dream symbols to one-size-fits-all definitions. I once read that “if you dream of teeth falling out, it means you will become pregnant.” Such interpretations strip dreams of their richness and individuality. A dream’s meaning is shaped by our personal history, our emotions, and the context of our lives.

 

Universal symbols can be helpful reference points, but they should never replace personal resonance. For instance, the ocean often symbolizes the unconscious—its depths hold unseen complexity. But if someone who nearly drowned dreams of the ocean, that image may evoke fear rather than mystery. The dreamer’s personal experience shapes the meaning.

 

Dreams are not puzzles to be solved by intellect alone. Their true significance emerges when we allow ourselves to feel them, to sit with their images, and let them speak to us in their own time.

 

The deeper we engage with dream work, the more natural this process becomes. But before we continue, we must first embrace two essential qualities in any inner exploration: self-compassion and non-judgment.

 

Next time, we’ll explore why self-compassion and acceptance are key when working with dream messages—especially when they bring up difficult emotions or memories. To continue this journey, Read Part 3 here 

 

⬇️⬇️ Join the conversation — share your thoughts below! ⬇️⬇️

 

Connie Martindale, L.C.S.W., Psychotherapist (Retired), brings over 30 years of experience in individual and couples therapy. She also facilitates a long-standing Dream Group that has been meeting for over two decades. Connie believes that sharing our dreams helps uncover their more profound messages and fosters a greater appreciation of our shared humanity. She says, “When we look within, we are more alike than different.”

Reader submissions may be lightly edited for clarity and length, while preserving the writer’s original voice.