Dreams Considered

April 21, 2009

Some of us dream while awake of justice, of true love, or timeless beauty. The fact that we dream raises an interesting question: how does the content of our dreams compare with the content of our waking life? Additionally, how does that content shine upon the person who houses it? Is the light cast flattering or harsh?

A dream while awake, an act of imagination that is brought forth to fulfill a current vacancy, is akin to other forms of desire. We desire what we lack. At times, these desires are for something that is apparently consumable. The appetite for food is a realistic one; a person can be satiated by acquiring something real and concrete. The stomach's dream can be lived through the process of eating. At times, a dream takes as the object of its desire--as the awareness of what it is without--something that cannot be produced concretely (i.e., in the world, tangibly).

Given that we exist in a state of privation from the grandiose content of waking dreams, ought we resign ourselves to striving for what is currently attainable? Is the human heart justified in desiring an earthly impossibility? Is it wrong to be self-defeating, insofar as the dreamer's life is necessarily feckless, or is it the only course to fulfillment?

Desires and dreams are related in that they take as the subject a lack, absence, or vacancy. Both are directed towards what is not presently fulfilled. The lack of a desire is construed as more noble than the lack of a dream to those who are critical of idealists, since the desire can be fulfilled concretely and the dream cannot. Dreams are disparaged as being hopeless, as devoid of a sufficient amount of concrete content.

A 'dreamer' is an appellation of derision. To be a dreamer is to be unrealistic. Is this a fair criticism? It is less of a criticism than a definition. A dream is what it is precisely because it is not real in the way that waking life is. We do not fault an emaciated man for being hungry; his lack colors his consciousness and to that extent paints him in the eyes of others.

At times we are the subjects of longings that are interpreted as being chimerical. An idealist and a dreamer are often taken to be synonymous. A certain sort of person, one who refers to himself as a realist, takes pleasure in holding idealists in contempt.

An idealist travels through his waking life as a man on the scent of a bakery. He has a nose for something sweeter that is in the offing. Precisely because what he wants he cannot fulfill where he is at, he moves forward. How is his being drawn different than the hungry man?

Who is more facile: the individual who longs only for what he knows he can get--what is for him possible now--or the man who longs for what he knows he cannot get now?

Dreams of the sort discussed here have more significance for the dreamer precisely because they are distinct from reality. Their passionate energy is born out of defeat and victory; defeat in being frustrated by the world and victory in refusing to be overwhelmed by the frustration. The realist disdains anything distinct from reality. The valuation is a consequence of a different reaction to the earth. Plato looked at the earth and what was possible in his mind, and preferred the latter. Aristotle looked at the earth and what was possible in his mind, and preferred what was possible for his mind to find in the earth. These men's desires are satiated by different content. One has a stomach for the possible, the other for the present. One says the other is gorging himself on slop; one says the other is filling his stomach with air. Both are correct.

A person critical of the idealist says what she wants she does not have and cannot get. If the idealist is self-aware, she knows this is the nature of her dreams and dreams them still. Could this be reprehensible?

Dreams are crafted out of the pieces of life. They have concrete girders. We cannot create out of nothing; we make out of something. We cannot invent totally; we innovate upon the given. Plato and Aristotle both look to the greatest aspects of the earth. Plato uses them as exemplars to construct a rarefied world; Aristotle uses them to navigate the mundane world we are familiar with. The materials are the same, but the uses are different.

Can one justly criticize the contrasting uses? For they both deny the totality of the world; they both brush off the dirt to reveal the essence. In that lopping off, they both deny the world and begin to dream. They desire what they don't have; both want the world devoid of filth, contingency, and exceptions. The realist thinks he can find that here; the idealist thinks he can only have that elsewhere. For the one, the lack of concreteness in ideas is like a lie; for the other, the concreteness in ideas is a taint. Which is preferable? If the realist is already guilty of taking a step towards the ideal and away from the actual, can he take pride in committing a misdemeanor rather than a felony? Or, rather, ought he resign himself to be a criminal regardless and thereby transgress the laws to their fullest.

If one knows that a death sentence is universal, is one any wiser for saving face and only perpetrating a crime for which a life sentence is warranted? Does a realist go to the grave with a better life lived if he, though recognizing the injustice of the laws of the world--of contingency to the bottom, of all things conditional and fleeting--consents all the same to aspire to steal apples? Or, does the idealist live more according to his inner senses when he is all the same snatched from life whilst trampling upon the earth to reach for the starry fruits?