Since the start of 2022, I’ve had a sort of awakening about dreaming. Let’s just say, I’m firmly planted in the idea that we can use our dreams to inform, enhance, and even shape our lives. A bonus: We can use them with our writing, too.

It’s no secret that daydreaming and visualization are powerful tools. Sports psychologists encourage athletes to win the game in their minds before they hit the field. Health experts advise patients to imagine a positive outcome when they’re preparing for surgery. Even nutrition experts tell dieters to mentally walk the buffet line before they do it in real life.

This idea isn’t entirely new for me. When I was a little girl in competitive ice skating, my coach walked through my routine with me before I took the ice. She detailed how I would expertly land each jump, complete each spin, and finish with a winning grin. As an adult, I allowed myself to imagine snagging my biggest bylines before I got a YES! from the editor.

The beauty of the mind is that it’s timeless. You can jump back to the past and remember things in vivid detail — using every sense — or you can skip into the future and imagine what’s to come. And when you do it with intention, all sorts of fun things can happen.

Dreaming on the Page
I’ll be honest: Using my dreams in my writing life IS a novel concept for me. Now, when I write about a mystical experience from my waking life, or try to describe the ineffable (my new favorite word), I take time to daydream. But these are no ordinary daydreams. They’re intentional — recreating an experience in my mind using one sense at a time.

I call up a memory of a favorite adventure, say cayoneering with my kids in Utah’s Zion National Park. Then, I set a timer for 3 minutes, close my eyes, drop myself into that moment, honing in only on what I see in my surroundings. When the timer goes off, I write about everything I saw for 5 minutes, or as long as it takes. Then I repeat the process with each sense. You might write more about hearing than taste, for example, but the idea is to immerse yourself in the memory using all five of your senses. Then focus on the sixth: Your gut instinct.

Often that sixth sense is what we tap into when we’re nighttime dreaming. Our conscious mind takes a break and we’re able to access our deeper knowing. It’s within that space where the greatest insights emerge — maybe especially if you write fiction. But you don’t have to be asleep to access the subconscious. You can get there with meditation, focused breathing, even just walking in nature.

SO DREAM
At the start of the year I published a story in Good Housekeeping about women who dreamed about having breast cancer before they were diagnosed. What I find so interesting about these precognitive dreams is that most of us have had them. Maybe we knew that a friend was pregnant before they called with the news. Or maybe we experienced a hint of déjà vu when an experience felt wildly familiar. I believe those synchronicities may stem from our dreams — that our dreams serve as a sort of rehearsal that prepares us for real life.

So how can you use your dreams to inform your writing? And your life? Be intentional about your dreaming. In the book “She Who Dreams,” Wanda Burk describes how she used her dreams as a way to connect with her friends and family members. Each morning, she and her grandmother used to discuss their dreams over breakfast. Then, after her grandmother passed away, she continued to visit Wanda in her dreams.

Whether this idea is too woo-woo for you to wrap your mind around or not, the reality is, we can use our dreams as a sort of springboard for stories and essays. But you can’t do that unless you start cataloguing them.

Want to be more intentional about playing with your dreams? I did, too! So, while I was reporting the dreams essay for Good Housekeeping, I learned some dream tips from Kathleen O’Keefe, author of Surviving Cancerland. And it has a handy acronym: SO DREAM.

Set an intention. Start by writing a question in your dream diary. Invite your dreams to speak during your sleep.
Organize. If you’ve ever started writing an essay in your mind while you’re sleeping, you probably already have a pad and pen by your nightstand. Consider getting a red light, too, so bright light won’t rouse you. I’ve taken to using the Voice Memos app on my phone to record my dreams, though admittedly I get some blue light exposure that way.

Declare. Make a declaration that you’re going to remember your dreams.
Remain in place. Instead of rushing out of bed in the morning, take a moment to stay still, center yourself, and see if you can remember any of your dreams from the previous night.
Emotions. Can’t remember details? Don’t worry! See if you can recall the overall tone and emotion of your dream. Was it scary? Sad? Happy? Exciting? Jot down what you remember.
Add. What colors did you see? Which animals or characters showed up in your dream? Did you see any words or dialogue in your dream? Where did it take place?
Meaning. Make meaning from your dream. If you’ve written your dream down, go line by line and query yourself about what the images, symbols, and scenes mean FOR YOU. What memories do they call up?

WRITING PROMPT

Think about a dream you’ve had that stays with you, either for days, months, or years. Now engage your senses, what can you recall? Why do you think it stays with you? Do you recognize any themes? Any storylines that you feel passionately about?

PRO ADVICE
“If you feel like you’re in a creative slump, don’t just sleep on it — dream on it. You can even turn a mid-afternoon powernap into a powerful incubator for ideas, stories, and solutions to complex writing problems. Here’s how: Write down a question in a dream diary before you drift off to sleep. For example, ‘Dreaming mind, show me the best way to end my personal essay,’ or ‘Dreaming mind, bring forth my next reported essay idea.’ Then see what comes through. It may not happen for you the first time, or the second. But if you keep writing down questions, you’ll start getting answers.”

Kimberly R. Mascaro, Ph.D., author of Dream Medicine.