Dream journals, the ritual that stuck for nine years, still counting.....

When I talk about my inner eye, I like to think about the clarity of images. Say I ask you to imagine a red star. How clear is that red star to you?

Is it three dimensional?

Is it coloured?

Is it placed in a setting?

When I try to visualize something while awake, what I see is usually Gray static, something fuzzy, almost incomplete. My dreams however are the complete opposite.

Ever since I started journaling my dreams every morning, I noticed they became clearer by the day. People, places, and things began to appear with more detail. This is how I start my entries.

At first it was just curiosity. Why could I see so clearly while asleep but not while awake. Where was this clarity coming from. Over time those questions turned into fascination, and eventually into something close to obsession. The more I noticed, the more I wanted to understand.

With time I became fascinated by the fact that our dreams are processing grounds, a space where we filter, engage, and expand what we have already experienced. They began to feel like a resource, a place I could return to and observe.

As I began compiling my entries from sticky notes to my notes app to journals, I started noticing themes, characters, and people.

The stingray for example has always felt like a symbol of protection, saving me from spaces, things, or dangers.

Another recurring theme is seeing something so enormous it makes my heart drop. A fish the size of a building. A seahorse as large as a house. Anytime I see these creatures it is usually correlated to real life, moments when I am contemplating a decision, often a big one, usually tied to discomfort, pain or a start of a new chapter.

The more I see in my dreams, the more I try to project those images into my waking life. In many ways it feels like I am compensating for my imagination, borrowing from a place where images arrive fully formed. I use my dreams as a way to bypass that limitation, to access clarity.

Fever Dream, Acrylic on canvas, 2025