Exploring the mysterious line between imagination, memory, and the supernatural
Dreams are some of the most intimate experiences we have, yet some of the least understood. Every night, we step into a world shaped by memory, imagination, and something else—something that often feels beyond us. We wake, sometimes comforted, sometimes disturbed, with images that cling like cobwebs, refusing to let go.
As a supernatural thriller author, I often wonder: what if dreams aren’t just random firings of the brain? What if they are doorways?
The Mystery of Dreams
Science tells us dreams are our mind’s way of sorting, processing, and repairing. They help us untangle emotions, solve problems, and store memory. That may be true, but what about the dreams that don’t fit so neatly into psychology’s explanation?
The ones where you see a place you’ve never been—only to stumble upon it years later. The ones where you wake up with a solution to a problem that’s haunted you. Or the dreams that feel less like imagination and more like memory. These moments hint at something more.
When Dreams Become Something Else
I’ve had friends tell me about dreams that shook them—dreams where loved ones who’d passed away came back to speak a final word. Dreams of warnings that proved true. Dreams that felt too vivid, too real, to dismiss.
I’ve had them myself. And each time, I ask the same question: are these dreams simply the workings of the brilliant, mysterious brain? Or are they glimpses beyond the veil—a message, a nudge, an opening into something greater?
In my writing, I use dreams as catalysts. They are sparks that open the door to hidden truths, drawing characters toward mysteries they would otherwise miss. But that’s not just fiction. For many of us, dreams leave a mark that lingers long after we’ve woken.
Learning to Listen
Whether you believe dreams are spiritual, psychological, or a mixture of both, there’s value in listening to them. Keeping a dream journal can reveal patterns and themes we might overlook. Sometimes they mirror our struggles. Sometimes they offer clarity. And sometimes… they hint at something waiting just beyond reach.
So tonight, when you drift into sleep, remember this: you may not simply be resting. You may be stepping through a doorway.
Author’s Note
Many of the eerie threads in my novels have their roots in dreams. Some from a dream I had; some from the characters’ dreams. They’ve taught me to pay attention to what lingers after waking—the fragments that don’t fade. Because sometimes, those fragments become an important part of a story. And sometimes, they are more than story.
What about you? Have you ever had a dream that felt less like imagination, and more like a message?