Guest Post: Dreams of Life after Death

Susanne van Doorn, a dream worker from the Netherlands, contributes today's post. She has gathered and analyzed dreams about death, and she is sharing this research with us in advance of its formal presentation. You can visit her on Facebook

Now, here's Susanne:
In answer to my request for dreams of lost loved ones I received 114 surveys from 3 countries: America, Germany and the Netherlands. This post is about my interpretation of these dreams as  dreamers' views on life after death.

The dreams in my survey fall into several categories: precognitive dreams of facing the impending death of a loved one; dreams about the transition to the “other world”; what life is like on that “other side” according to our dreams; guidance dreams of help from a deceased loved one; dreams that console; and dreams that help the dreamer come to terms with her own inevitable mortality.

My Days are Numbered

I had this dream the night before I received the shocking news that one of my brothers had died unexpectedly.
The Dream: I have received medical news that my days are numbered. I try to deal with it, both internally and externally. For myself, I work to accept the reality with some sort of equanimity. For others, I worry about how much trouble my condition will cause. I feel very much “the other,” as one with a death sentence hanging over my head. I think of my friend Don who had pancreatic cancer and how—at least in public—managed a robust cheerfulness, an ability to keep living.

Then I contemplate what life would be like with no death, and I realize that life would lose its sweetness, its poignancy, in some way.

Interpretation: Was this dream precognitive, or was the timing merely coincidental? If not precognitive, was there some sort of mental telepathy going on? These issues come up with dreams, and I don't think we have the answers.

Looking at the dream in its own terms, the interesting thing about it is that it tries to deal with the concept of mortality and even comes up with something positive about our finite existence. It seems the dream is trying to prepare me for the inevitable.

Union of Spirit

I awakened remembering a dream from twenty years ago with new insight into its meaning.

The Dream: Stephen, a very close friend, is in hospital, dying of Aids. He looks ghastly, covered with sores. “Let’s make love,” he says. I am appalled and horrified. “Now?! I say, “Now you want to make love?” As much as we loved each other, because he was gay we had never been lovers.

I found out shortly after having this dream that Stephen had, in fact, died.

Interpretation: Stephen once criticized me for having a “literal” mind. If I could have seen beyond the literal meaning of what he was saying to me in the dream, perhaps I could have been a better friend. Had I been able to spiritually embrace him instead of shrinking from him, perhaps I could have eased both his passing and my grief. Why did I remember this dream now? Aunt Peggy’s declining state has brought to the fore the difficult issue of mortality.

Written on the Body

Once we have attained middle age Jung tells us that our job is to come to terms with our own mortality.

The Dream: Clark and I are at the airport with lots of baggage. We’ve taken some of this into the terminal but most of our carry on is still in our parked van, which has been painted black. We go for a walk. When we return the van is gone—a woman has taken it to search for her dog, which someone has kidnapped. We go in search of her.

I am anxious. There is increased security at the airports and we must check in an hour ahead. I don’t feel any sympathy for the woman searching for her dog, but I hope she finds the animal so we can get the rest of our things and get on with it. I worry we’ll lose our parking spot by the time she returns.
Finally we find her and re-park the van. I notice the lock to my door is on the outside of the window, which seems useless.

Part of our luggage consists of t-shirt fragments printed with genealogical information and punctuated with blocks of color.

Interpretation: The unconscious is struggling with the idea of mortality (the imminent airplane ride will take me off the planet). This makes the dream ego anxious and uncomfortable. The missing animal embodies the primal aspects of life: sex, birth, death. I want to put the vehicle of change (van) back into its parking place. When the woman returns the van its lock has moved to the outside: once we’ve gained the knowledge of life and death it’s impossible to lock out what we know. The t-shirts symbolize our DNA, which maps our reality. Our past and future is encoded there: written on the body (thank you, Jeanette Winterson).  But perhaps it’s not the whole story?

They Sing, I Dance

Jung tells us that the 2nd half of life—in his day after 35—is devoted to the spiritual task of coming to terms with our mortality.

The Dream: Old ladies are singing, taking turns. They are on a stage grouped around a small table upstage left. Three are at the table at a time; others come from the wings (stage right) to replace them and take their turn. Meanwhile I am dancing in front of them in the empty space downstage. My friend Alice is in the audience, amazed that I can dance. It feels almost like flying.

Interpretation: The old ladies are reminiscent of a Greek chorus, their presence a leitmotif on the cycle of life and death as they replace one another at the table. But what about the number 3? It overcomes duality (such as life and death; night and day; good and bad); the 3-woman chorus is hinting that there are possibilities I don’t grasp. After all, the women come from the “wings,” a word associated with divinity: the bird is symbolic of the soul. I dance, with such energy that I practically fly, expressing the unfathomable energy of the cosmos. But here’s the conundrum of dreams: Do I dance with life or do I dance with death?