Afterall, some dragons guard the gate to the underworld where hidden treasures await us. Other dragons guard the gate to the heavens, the place that holds insight and inspiration. And still others are the monsters we fight in order to prove our power (mostly to ourselves) so we can evolve as beings.

Indeed, dragons are multi-faceted creatures who often symbolize benevelonce in the East and malevolence in the West, and when you dream of dragons it’s probably a good idea to know which one you are confronting.

Why we dream of dragons

Western dragons are large and scaly, scary and fierce. They perfectly capture the essence of what it’s like to be tormented by our fears.

What better image to represent the inner demons we must face in order to grow as people?

Conversly, Eastern dragons are often colorful and beautiful, eloquently representing the magical and supernatural qualities of life that protect us and grant us wishes. These dragons might also represent our inner power, the aspect of ourself that is calling us forth into new territory.

In dream-land, dragons may represent various aspects of our internal and external lives, the parts or our personality we fight against, the battles we win and lose with ourselves and others, as well as the struggles we overcome.

Learning how to work with dragon dreams might empower you to face your fears, recognize and claim your inner gifts so you can more easily take them into the world, and make peace with whatever frustrations plague your life.

But what if you’ve never dreamed of a dragon?

Although you may not have dreamed of an actual firebreathing dragon, chances are you’ve dreamed of an adversary or helpful guide who was dragon-like. Snakes, serpents, and sea-monsters can fall into the “dragon” category since they are the progenitors of the species.

Regardless of the type of dragon in your dreams, these impressive beings can simultaneously evoke awe and fear. The trick is to summon the necessary courage to stand your ground so you can determine how to interact with the dragon. Should you slay it or ask it for guidance? To better understand the answer it’s useful to explore the history of dragons.

Dragons In Mythology

In Eastern mythology, the dragon is a long, snakelike creature with four or five claws and is a symbol of auspicious, benevelont power. “The association between the dragon and vigilance (which it can personify in art) is evidenced by many tales in which dragons appear as guardians linked with the underworld and with oracular knowledge.” Source: page 54 Symbols and their Meanings by Jack Tresidder

There are many types of dragons in Chinese mythology. For instance, the Heavenly Dragon Tianlong (Tian – heaven, Long – dragon), is a dragon who guards the heavenly palace. The Underworld Dragon or Treasure Dragon, Fucanglong, lived in caves below the earth and protected natural and man-made treasures. Source: Encyclopedia Mythica.

In Westeren mythology, the dragon is typically a two legged creature who possesses the ability to fly. Most of Western Europe experiences the dragon as an evil adversary.

In Norse mythology, for instance, “Nidhogg (“tearer of corpses”) is a monstrous serpent that gnaws almost perpetually at the deepest root of the World Tree Yggdrasil, threatening to destroy it. Nidhogg (also) lies on Nastrond in Niflheim and eats corpses to sustain itself.” Source: Encyclopedia Mythica

Dragon Slayers in Poetry and Literature

Dragon slayers are the reveared heroes who face their enemy with ferocious and cunning skills, usually saving a virgin or community from impending disaster.

In the Homeric Hymn to Pythian Apollo it is written,

(ll. 300-310) But near by was a sweet flowing spring, and there with his strong bow the lord, the son of Zeus, killed the bloated, great she-dragon, a fierce monster wont to do great mischief to men upon earth, to men themselves and to their thin-shanked sheep; for she was a very bloody plague. … (ll. 334-362) Whosoever met the dragoness, the day of doom would sweep him away, until the lord Apollo, who deals death from afar, shot a strong arrow at her.

Another famous dragon slayer was St. George, William Shakespear refers to him in Richard III:

Advance our standards, set up on our foes

Our ancient world of courage fair St. George

Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons

Richard III, act v, sc 3

Dragons In Jungian Psychology

When the hero fights the dragon it is a battle with

the regressive forces of the unconscious which threaten to swallow the individuating ego. The forces, personified in figures like Circe, Kali, medusa, sea serpents, Minotaur, or Gorgon, represent the Terrible side of the Great Mother. The Hero may voluntarily submit to being swallowed by the monster, or to a conscious descent into Hades so as to vanquish the forces of darkness.

This mortifying descent into the abyss, the sea, the dark cave, or the underworld in order to be reborn to a new identity expresses the symbolism of the night-sea journey through the uterine belly of the monster. It is a fundamental theme in mythology the world over — that of death and rebirth. All initiatory rituals involve this basic archetypal pattern through which the old order and early infantile attachments must die and a more mature and productive life be born in their place.

This dragon fight and liberation of the captive is the archetypal pattern that can guide us through those major transitional passages in our personal development where a rebirth or reorientation of consciousness is indicated. The captive represents the ‘new’ element whose liberation makes all further development possible. Source: http://www.cgjungny.org/d/d_mythpsyche.html

Draco, the Dragon Constellation 

In Greek mythology, the constellation Draco, which is a constellation in the northern hemisphere, “was identified with the dragon Ladon, which had a hundred heads and was in charge of guarding the Garden of the Hesperides, the orchard of the goddess Hera where golden apples that gave immortality grew. When Hercules was given the task to steal the apples, he enchanted Ladon with music and put him to sleep before stealing the apples. Hera later placed the dragon among the stars.” source: http://www.topastronomer.com

As an aside, Draco is also the name of one of Harry Potter’s main adversaries, Draco Malfoy, who is a member of the Slytherin House whose mascot is the serpent.

How to work dragon dreams playfully

Dragon dreams, whether they entail snakes, serpents or giant creatures, are often powerful, big dreams. Although it might be useful to explore the imagery symbolically, enacting them through dream theater might yield more profound results.

This is most easily done in a dream group setting, but if you’re all by yourself you can use props like pillows and chairs.

Start by sharing the dream. Then have the dreamer choose people to play various parts of the dream, everything from dream characters like the dragon to emotions like fear. Have someone else play the role of the dreamer, too. If you have enough participants, assign people to play significant landscape characteristics, like an erupting volcano.

Once roles are assigned, have the dreamer walk everyone through the dream scenario step-by-step. Then do it again as a seamless play. Once you’re done, have the dreamer play him or herself so s/he can experience the dream in waking life.

When you’re done, you might “dream the scene forward” by having the characters continue to act from an intuitive place, everyone imagining what happens next and acting it out.

The dreamer can ask the characters questions, like, “Dragon, why are you near this erupting volcano?”. Participants reply as though they are that character. (E.g. the person playing the dragon speaks as though she is the dragon and answers the dreamers question from the dragon’s perspective. The person playing the volcano does the same.)

Encourage everyone to trust their intuition and any insights they glean from the experience. 

How to work dragon dreams symbolically 

When it comes to dreams, it seems fitting to reflect on the two opposing views of dragons – benevolent and malevolent. Like two sides of the same coin, one dragon is the bringer of good fortune while the other is a scary monster who must be overcome.

Since dreams often reveal the obstacles we need to metaphorically slay before we can grow as people and connect with our Greater Self, our dream dragons might represent our need to confront our internal and external enemies in order to find the gold within and without.

When a dragon or dragon-like creature appears in your dream, contemplate your reaction or interaction with it. 

Did you fight it?

Flee?

Ask it a question?

Receive a gift?

How you act in a dream may be an indicator of how you are acting or responding in waking life.

Outer dragons

If your dream dragon causes you fear, ask if there is something in waking life that feels overwhelmingly frightening. It could be a person, place, thing or event. It could be a calling to a specific vocation that causes you to feel fear about the prospects of letting go of the past. It could be anything.

If your dream dragon causes you to feel joy or gives you a gift, ask if there is soemthing in waking life that feels larger than life that needs to be approached and accepted. It could be a job offer or a new relationship. Again, it could be anything.

Inner dragons

Your dream dragon can also represent inner struggles, like feeling fearful of moving forward or nervous about an upcoming event. It might also indicate the need to muster up the courage to stand your ground in difficulty or trying circumstances.

Have you had any dragon dreams?

If so, share your dream and what it meant to you in the comments section below.

To find source information for each photo, scroll over the photo.

The First Dream: Train Station in England

The first was Jonathan. I posted a picture to Facebook of a train station in Carlisle, England. Within a few minutes he commented that it was the train station from a dream he’d had in 2009. In 2009 he and I were in a class on facilitating dream groups.

Here is part of his dream:

I am outside on what appears to be a nice sunny day. I am talking to a nice looking but older dark haired woman. She has short hair and is dressed like she is on a business trip. I think we are both on a business trip. We seem to be outside a train station, a nice modern train station. We have just arrived from somewhere but are going our separate ways. We don’t seem to know each other well, but yet we are intimate in some way. I am wanting to or considering having an affair with her even though I think she is married. Her name is Mrs. McDonald. I think she says her first name but I do not remember.  She tells me that she lives in Carlisle.

Jonathan’s astonishment at seeing the train station from his dream was apparent. He said it looked exactly like the one in his dream and he didn’t expect it to be in England, because in the dream he assumed it was a place in Southern California. The fact that the woman in the dream was from Carlisle added to his excitement.

The Second Dream: Mount Diablo in California

The second friend to write about one of my photos was Trude, a woman I met while in Norway this summer. We had an immediate connection when we met and have since maintained email contact. I sent out an email about re-opening my online photography shop, and not long after she emailed me.

“The photograph of Mount Diablo is an exact image of a dream I once had, a long time before I met you. In this dream I was running in a landscape and feeling extremely light. Happiness is perhaps the best word to describe the feeling.

“I can’t remember ever having seen such a landscape other than in my dream. I remember this dream so well because I had it in a time where I had a lot of terrible dreams, and I started to draw my dreams in a book, and interpreted them. This dream was one of comfort and joy.”

Trude has never been to the United States, so she wouldn’t have seen the Mount Diablo landscape in waking life. She did draw the dream after having it and said the drawing looks similar to my photograph.

So how did this happen?

How did Jonathan dream of a place I visited in England?

How did Trude dream of a landscape in California that I photographed?

Is there some innate connection between me and Trude and me and Jonathan that allowed this kind of synchronicity to occur?

There are no straightforward answers to this question, but one place to find clues is in dream telepathy research.

Dream Telepathy Research

In the 1960s and 70s, Stanley Krippner, along with other researchers at Maimondes Medical Center, conducted a study on dream telepathy. In the experiments, one person was asleep in a room. In another room, a second person looked at a picture. The scientists would wake the sleeper from REM (rapid eye movement) sleep while the second person was looking at the picture. Often, the sleeper remembered dreams that included images from the pictures seen by the person in the other room.

This research seems to indicate telepathic communication happens between the dreamer and the “sender,” the person looking at the photograph. Of course, this communication happens in real time. How can we explain dream telepathy that occurs with a gap of several years in between?

In the case of Trude’s dream I took the photograph in 2006 and she had the dream in 2010. Jonathan dreamed of the Carlilse train station in 2009 and I didn’t visit it until 2011.

This leaves me with more questions than answers. If time is an illusion and everything is really happening at once, that might get us a little closer to an explanation. It doesn’t matter what year I took the picture or what year the dreamers had their dreams.

Another question: why did I photograph these specific people’s dreams? Often, when people are incredibly close, like twins or spouses, mutual and/or paranormal dreaming occurs. But Jonathan and I don’t know each other all that well and Trude is someone I only met for a few days this summer.

Something dream researcher Montague Ullman said about the unique relationships formed during communal dreamwork might explain why I photographed Jonathan’s dream. As I mentioned, Jonathan and I were in a dream group facilitation class together. The class consisted of a two-hour dream group once a week for several weeks.

Ullman writes that, “Experiential dream work generates emotional closeness among the participants. It is expected that this developing rapport in combination with the natural psi facilitating effect of the dream itself, would result in an increasing number of identifiable psi occurrences among the members of the group.”

Since Jonathan and I did experiential dream work together, it makes sense that we’d have a “psi occurrence.”

But how to explain photographing the dream of a woman in Norway who I’d never met before and only spent time with for a few days?

All I can say is that, from the moment I met Trude, I knew on an intuitive, gut level we had a connection. I felt like I knew her from somewhere. A past life? A dream? It was one of those moments where you just know you’ve met the person before.

We met at a shamanic workshop weekend, another emotionally intense and experiential field where psi comes into play. Perhaps the same principles apply with me and Trude as with me and Jonathan. As a result of the time we spent together that weekend, Trude and I formed a tight emotional bond and we have remained close even though I’m now back in the United States.

Have you ever photographed something from someone else’s dream?

Have you ever seen a photograph and thought, “that’s my dream!”?

Share with us in the comments below.

Reference: Ullman, M. (1979). Psi communication through dream sharing. Paper presented at the Parapsychology Foundation Conference on “Communication and Parapsychology,” held August 9-10, 1979, in Vancouver, Canada.

Seasons as Guides

Seasons can also reflect the time of day or what actions are needed to take (or not take) depending on the dream’s call.

I had a seasonal dream I titled “The Northern Silence” right before I made the decision to attend John F. Kennedy University for my graduate studies in dream research and counseling psychology.

I dreamed I was going on a hike called the Northern Silence. It was the greatest hike on earth. It was way up north—perhaps Canada or Alaska? —and there was much snow around so everything was still and silent. It was evening, dusk, and I was on a path but felt like I was a man. I was a young man on a journey, camping out in the wilderness. It was wonderful.

The Northern Silence was certainly a ‘big dream’ not only because of the timing –but also the numinous quality– of it. The landscape evoked an intense spiritual presence: It was clearly wintertime and all the trees, earth, Nature were blanketed by snow. In the dream, I was struck by the stillness, the utter silence all around me. It felt sacred, like I was in a holy place.

So what hidden meanings and seasonal wisdom did this dream hold?

Winter in Childhood

I have not experienced the wonder of thick, fresh fallen snow since I was a teenager. In my youth, I lived outside of New York City where winter days like this were not the norm but considered special.  The kind of snowstorm that stops traffic and creates a world so surreal and quiet, it feels otherworldly.

I reveled in these moments as a child because it took me out of my routine of regular activities. I didn’t have to go to school or do homework but rather could appreciate the more natural world around me.

Winter as Potential Growth Unseen

The winter season is also a time for deep, inner reflection. A period for silence, stillness, and hibernation right before rejuvenation and new growth of Spring. This time of life is so necessary for healing and is a beautiful reminder to slow down and stay in the moment.

And to trust in the process

Most of the growth is happening in the earth, unseen. Especially since I live in a place that doesn’t have these extreme winters, the dream is a good indicator to be reminded of this natural cycle of life.

A Winter’s Tale: Releasing Old Wounds

Winter is also a time for letting go of old pains, memories and habits that no longer serve anymore. The “evening” time period in the dream only amplifies this message. This is a time for healing old wounds in order to let in new experiences.

Winter’s Lessons

Looking back, I realized I needed this dream to calm me down so I could open my eyes to new possibilities. Although the decision to go back to school and literally ‘follow my dreams’ did cause some “psychic’ upheaval and stress in my life, it was this place of stillness that kept me going.

The landscape itself was particularly magical, especially since it was dusk, and the purple colors of the sky were reflected on the landscape so brilliantly white, it looked like daytime. Though it was dark (the future) the dream assured me this journey will certainly be illuminated in the near future.

In the dream, I called the hike the Northern Silence, the greatest hike on earth. I am in awe of this name because it is clearly a symbol of my own spiritual journey to be more still and present in my path. I knew this was the greatest hike on earth with fruitful opportunities up ahead and all I needed was to trust in the silence. My inner Self was clearly calling to me.

Have you had a dream about the seasons?

What wisdom did the dream hold for you?

Please share as a comment below.

The sacred longing Frank MacEowen speaks of is what led me to embark on a six-month journey to reconnect with my ancestors and their lands. I can say from firsthand experience that MacEowen is absolutely correct: this longing is indeed a trustworthy guide. I followed it to some of the most profound experiences of my life.

My longing to go on this particular journey came through in a dream I had earlier this year. In it, my husband tells me he’s leaving me and I am shocked. How will I make it alone? I wonder. And he replies, “Haven’t you always wanted to see exotic places?” In the dream I remember I’ve always wanted to travel to Iceland. And so, in waking life I did.

Sacred longing comes from deep within; it’s in my bones, my DNA. Many of my ancestors were forced from their lands because of their spiritual or religious beliefs or because of war. They suffered immense trauma.  And their grief lives within me: the grief of being separated from their homeland, the grief of losing loved ones, the grief of having to hide who they really were.

I went to Europe for myself, but I also went there for my ancestors.

I didn’t know specific cities or counties where my ancestors were from. My decision to visit certain places was based on limited family knowledge and intuition, and this information led me to northern Scotland, the Inner Hebrides, western Wales, northern and southern England, coastal Norway, inland Sweden, and Iceland (not sure if I definitely have Icelandic ancestry, but I certainly felt at home there).

The longing of my ancestors showed me the way. And in each place, I was transformed.

Scotland opened my heart and helped me love myself more. There, the land and the ancestors prepared me for what was to come.

In England I came to terms with my divorce while sitting under an old tree in Meanwood Park in Leeds. I also had my first ancestral dream of the trip in Leeds, which I shared in this post. Surely, my Scottish and English ancestors suffered heartbreak and their longing led me to work on mending my own heart while in their lands.

From there I went to Norway where I experienced a true homecoming. From the moment the plane flew over the fjords and snow-capped mountains, I felt an intense sensation of belonging to the land.

It was clear my Norwegian ancestors felt a deep love for the fjords, mountains, and valleys there and their love for the land lived in me. When it came time to go I didn’t want to leave, and I stayed an extra three weeks. When I sat down on the train to Oslo on my final day, tears streamed down my face as I watched the hills and fjord disappear from view.

After Norway I traveled through Switzerland and Belgium, neither of them ancestral lands. During my time in these countries, although I was with friends and in new, exciting places, I felt a sense of disconnection for the first time. I felt unmoored. It wasn’t until I returned to Sweden that I once again had the sensation of homecoming.

Sweden provided a respite for me; I’d been traveling for three-and-a-half months and I needed a break. It was here I re-ignited my relationship with the ancestors and began asking them again in earnest for guidance. At that point, I wasn’t sure where I’d go next.

They led me back to England. There I incubated a dream about my next steps and I received one of the most powerful dreams of my trip, one that guided me to return to my birthplace, Colorado.

I had major family healing to do there, and sacred longing brought be back to my most familiar homeland to begin the process. I came full circle, leaving my ancestors’ homelands to return to my own homeland. The ancestors asked me to become a catalyst for healing the familial line. I accepted the call.

Are you ready to honor your sacred longing? If you are, hold on tight. You might be in for quite a ride.

The 2010 study, published in the European Journal of Social Psychology, comprised four studies that pitted those who think about their roots versus those who don’t before taking a battery of problem solving and intelligence tests.

In the first study, the subjects consisted of two experimental groups and a control. A third of the subjects were instructed to think about their deep roots from the 15th century, another third to think about their great grandparents, and the control group did no such preparation.

What were the subjects specifically asked to think about? They were told to imagine their ancestors, how they lived, their professions and their families, the trials they faced, and what these ancestors would tell them if they were around today.

Results indicated that both groups that looked back performed significantly better on the problem-solving test than the control.

The second study by the same research group then extended these findings with a less obvious direction: by having the experimental group construct a family tree before taking a battery of intelligence tests. In this way, the experimental group was not told exactly what to think, but still had to consider their ancestors to complete the activity.

Again, the group that meditated upon their roots performed better on the test scores. They also scored higher on a test of “perceived life control.” In other words, those who considered their pasts said they felt more control over their life, career, and ability to best adversaries than those who did not.

The group was still not satisfied with the conclusions. What is this ancestor effect? How does “ancestral salience” work? The researchers, comprised of social psychologists from Germany and Austria, conducted a third study to test if thinking about living ancestral relatives (grandparents and great grandparents) versus distant ancestors made a difference. The test scores of this group were compared to a control group that was instructed to think about a close friend who is still living.

This time, both family groups outperformed the friends group, but with no significant difference between the deep ancestral groups and the living ancestral groups. So the effect is not simply due to thinking about people you like and who happen to be alive.

In a final study, the group tested this “likability” factor within the ancestral groups. Subjects were instructed to either focus on negative or positive aspects of their ancestors, compared with a control group that did no meditations before a battery of tests. Again, both ancestral groups outperformed the control.

So even if we don’t perceive to like our ancestors, thinking about them still leads to a mental state that boosts intellectual performance and decision-making.

Tapping into the Ancestor Effect

So keep your ancestors close at hand. Every day, think about the people who are responsible for putting you on the planet. Consider their hard work throughout the ages, their resilience in tough times, and their ingenuity.

Make a family tree, and research your roots.

Even a simple five-minute meditation in the beginning of the day can instill confidence that spills over into your decision making and your ability to deal with the problems that arise today.

Making space in your home can focus this daily meditation and remind you of your roots when you go about your daily life. Find a photograph of a family member who has passed on and who you particularly admire. Frame it and keep it visible in a part of the house you see every day. Make it a daily ritual to give thanks by spending a moment looking at this photograph or some other object from the past. Even better, set up a shelf for ancestral remembrances and spend a minute a day looking upon it and thinking of those who came before.

Let the blessing go back in time, and fuel their strength, too. They are smiling upon us and giving us courage, even the nasty ones.

[1] Fischer, P., Sauer, A., Vogrincic, C., and Weisweiler, S. (2010). The ancestor effect: Thinking about our genetic origin enhances intellectual performance. European Journal of Social Psychology. 41 (1), 11-16.