What is the taste of
a dream in the darkness?
How might you carry a dream?
In a pocket,
a cage or
a basket?
Tangled in memory,
twined round a heart?
Where would you keep it
for safety?
Can you lock up a dream,
with a key?
Or, should you trust
to the light
to keep a dream safe,
keep it close, keep it near
what are the colours
of dreaming?
Are they layered, like mist,
are they coloured, like gold
and fragile like fragments,
like leaves in the wind?
Do they long for the dark
and the moon?
Does a dream find each
dreamer? Does it seek in
the night, searching for
someone who might understand
the why and the wherefore,
the warp and the weft?
Can you hunt for a dream
with a hound at your heels?
Can you hunt for a dream
with a hawk on your glove?
Must you search in silence,
in secret, in shadow?
Wait, watch and listen.
Between a breath and a breath
you might find the taste of a
dream in the dark. Never fear
Jackie Morris from Feather Leaf Bark Stone
It’s struck me that I haven’t yet talked about dreams, and dreams as a form of revelation – and not just for the Wise Ones. The Christmas gospel narratives are packed with people having dreams, and having had them, they act upon them.
When is the last time I had a dream, took it as a message from the Divine, and then changed my life’s course as a result?
I’m not good at remembering my dreams on waking. But perhaps dreams add up in me, in the layers of my subconscious, until they are able to surface in a different way? As I was thinking about this I came across an intriguing passage in Back to Nature by naturalists and broadcasters Chris Packham and Megan McCubbin, which is worth quoting at length:
Our days are packed full of information, some of which is useful and some of which is not, so when our bodies shut down to sleep our brains go into overdrive replaying the day’s events, filtering out which memories and new skills are worth hanging onto. The dreams we have essentially help with memory consolidation, but dreaming isn’t solely limited to humans and evidence of dreams can be observed in many different species, from cats to cuttlefish.
Of course, it depends on your definition of dreaming, but scientists are able to measure brain activity in animals as they sleep and find that many species, similarly to us, will have rapid eye movement (REM) cycles. This is the point of sleep where vivid dreams generally occur.
For the last 20 years or so, we have known that sleeping birds have neurons firing around their brains in a complex pattern similar to that observed when they are awake and singing. This suggested that birds are able to subconsciously practise and tune their songs while sleeping – a skill that is particularly useful for young birds, who develop their singing abilities by listening to, remembering and mimicking that of a parent or related (conspecific) individual. If’s simply fascinating that they replay these songs in their minds as they dream to improve their skills. But when investigating this further, scientists found that zebra finches also flexed their vocal muscles when asleep as if they were actually singing. The results suggest that birds could be practising variations of their song, which helps to fine-tune their notes to make sure their song is perfectly composed.
The vocal muscle activity was so strong that if enough airflow was present, they’d actually be singing as they sleep. What a beautiful thing that is. (27-28)
I hope my mind is practicing creative output in my sleep, so that the gestures I need in my waking life are already familiar to me and are just waiting to be used at the right time and will emerge fully-fledged in the right season, when I need them. This is my hope: that divine provision – my daily bread, what I need for this day alone – will be given to me. It might be the dream outline of an overture to shake the world, or it might be a clear idea how to help a friend in such a way that nobody knows of the act but us two. The dream arrives to fit the situation when it is needed – but also when it is asked for…
Magnitude or importance are irrelevant when it comes to dreams, but if I don’t practice my dreaming, my imagination will never develop the capacity to deliver the divine message when the day arrives when it needs to be enacted. Dreams are the way my mind stretches its capacity for the divine. Daring to commit to dreaming more in 2026 feels like a good way to begin fulfilling the prophetic watch night cry to surrender all I am as I commit to a renewed covenant with God:
I am no longer my own but yours.
Put me to what you will,
rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing,
put me to suffering;
let me be employed for you
or laid aside for you,
exalted for you
or brought low for you;
let me be full,
let me be empty,
let me have all things,
let me have nothing;
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.
And now, glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
you are mine and I am yours.
So be it.
And the covenant now made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
It is impossible to be on the earth and avoid awakening. Everything that happens within and around you calls your heart to awaken. As the density of night gives way to the bright song of the dawn, so your soul continually coaxes you to give way to the light and awaken. Longing is the voice of your soul; it constantly calls you to be fully present in your life: to live to the full the one life given to you. Rilke said to the young poet: ‘Live everything,’ You are here on earth now, yet you forget so easily. You travelled a great distance to get here. The dream of your life has been dreamed from eternity. You belong within a great embrace which urges you to have the courage to honour the immensity that sleeps in your heart. When you learn to listen to and trust the wisdom of your soul’s longing, you will awaken to the invitation of graced belonging that inhabits the generous depths of your destiny. You will become aware of the miracle of presence within and around you. In the beginning was the dream, and the dream was Providence.
A Blessing
Blessed be the longing that brought you here and that quickens your soul with wonder.
May you have the courage to befriend your eternal longing.
May you enjoy the critical and creative companionship of the question: ‘Who am I?’ and may it brighten your longing.
May a secret providence guide your thought and shelter your feelings.
May your mind inhabit your life with the same sureness with which your body belongs in the world.
May the sense of something absent enlarge your life.
May your soul be as free as the ever-new waves of the sea.
May you succumb to the danger of growth.
May you live in the neighbourhood of wonder.
May you belong to love with the wildness of dance.
May you know that you are ever-embraced in the kind circle of God.
From John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes (68, 70-72)
the taste of a dream in the dark. (Canon R10. f2.8. 1/60. ISO 100)
image into ikon 