In everyday life we belong to groups – most closely, our immediate family, fanning out to our extended family, our region, our nation, our continent, our culture; ultimately all of humanity. On the dreaming level of consciousness we have access to the collective experience and archetypal symbols of all our dreaming tribes.
My friend and fellow-author, Katherine Langrish, told me the extraordinary story of her family dream over dinner at a conference some years ago, and I’m delighted she has agreed to share it here.
Roughs and smooths, by Katherine Langrish
It was a dream that was often repeated, and the feeling often heralded it, so that it was possible to say to myself, Oh, it’s coming. As I grew older the feeling would sometimes come without the dream, and after the age of about 11 or 12, it vanished for ever.
While I was still having them, I told my mother about them, and she said, “Oh, do you get those too? I used to have them, and so did my father; he called them roughs and smooths.” My mother’s and grandfather’s versions were slightly different. I think she said my grandfather saw ‘it’ as something like a barrel. For herself she said, “something came towards me rolling, and everything broke up. But you stop getting them when you’re about twelve.” I remember feeling a mild but real relief that she knew what I was talking about.
I never told my own children about the dream, because I didn’t want them to have it, and I didn’t want to suggest anything to them which might influence them into having it, but they both did get variants after all, and one daughter in particular was prone to them. Aged about seven, having woken upset, she told me, “I see squiggly lines” – she drew one in the air with a finger, “squiggly lines, and it all goes wrong.” Asked next morning, she said she’d be half asleep, half awake, and see “squiggly lines, jagged lines, calm lines. They come and go. There’s a horrible feeling with them.”
I reassured her that she’d simply got the family dream, and it wasn’t anything to worry about, and would take itself off when she was about twelve. And it did. I don’t know if anyone else has ever had an inherited dream, and I feel it’s got to be something to do with brain patterns, but I’m happy to leave it at that and not know anything more about it. I hope it doesn’t get handed down any further – as a family heirloom, it’s one we could well do without.
Jenny Alexander's blog: Writing in the House of Dreams 
Extraordinary , interesting and also slightly scary dream story! I can understand why you never mentioned it to your children, Katherine.
I couldn’t have put it better, Penny – you can see why it stayed vividly in my mind when Kath told it to me.
Wow! This is utterly fascinating. Talk about the power of genetic continuity… My mother and I both like primary colours and salty foods, but nothing like this. Does anybody else have a similar story?
I think every family has these shared streams of consciousness/experience, but they don’t usually surface. Kath’s story is particularly striking.
Eerie and fascinating! I never guessed this was possible, but now I wonder which of my recurring dreams might have a life and a history outside me. Thanks so much for telling the story, Kath, and thank you, Jenny, for bringing it to us.
I guess you could ask your parents/grandparents Amy? Then remember to tell us here if you uncover a family dream!
What a fascinating story. I’ve never heard of family dreams before. Am glad for you all that they stop at age 12!
Thank you for sharing your story, it’s a great conversation piece!
I know! I was sooooo delighted when Kath agreed to share her story here 🙂
Oooh! Had a slightly spooky moment when I read about Katherine’s dream. It’s very similar to a recurring nightmare I had as a child, where a giant apple rolled up my bed. It was terrifying and I had it night after night. How incredible that her dream followed a similar pattern to other family members. I don’t think I ever shared mine so have no idea if mine did too.
That’s one of the reasons I think it’s so great to talk about dreams Abi – you uncover such interesting patterns. And it gives you a whole new area of insight into each other’s inner world. I feel that what inhibits a free exchange of dreams is the fear/pressure that comes from our automatic assumption that we must interpret them. Thank you for sharing your apple dream here – I can see why it came into your head on reading Kath’s extraordinary story.
That’s fascinating, Kath – thank you for sharing it!
I used to have a recurring dream when I was young, which then returned in later life if ever I had a fever, in which things around me got very large and loomed over me and the walls crowded close to my face. Later, one of my daughters had the dream and I realised it’s actually how things look when you are a baby. As soon as I worked it out, the dream was no longer scary.
A couple of time I did have the same dream as one of my daughters when they were sleeping in the bed with me when small, but that’s contemporaneous shared dreaming, not an inherited dream.
I’ve not had the experience of an inherited dream but before I got to know my father I had a fear for a short while of being submerged in the bath. It wasn’t till many years later when we met as adults that he spoke about his time in a malaria hospital in Africa and it seemed I’d ‘inherited’ a memory that belonged to him. He had been given cool baths to bring down his temperature and one day while being left on his own he became unconscious and slipped under the water, where a nurse found him. I don’t believe I could have been told this story by anyone else for good reasons but it does go towards my interest in memories – including dreams- that could be passed down through the generations.
That’s so interesting. I absolutely believe in these inherited memories – which is another reason trying to understand dreams – or indeed one’s waking experience – purely based on the psychological model feels inadequate to me.
Hello Stroppy Author – thank you for commenting. I found both your dream and your interpretation really interesting. Thank you also for mentioning contemporaneous dreams – that’s given me an idea for another post 🙂
Kath, I’ve heard you tell this before, and it’s good to see it again here, because I find it completely fascinating. Spooky and weird, and it sets the brain boggling. Incredible stuff! xx
Interesting and fascinating – but am I insensitive that I find it so, rather than spooky? (sorry!). By the way, JRR and Christopher Tolkien shared the same dream of a wave overwhelming a green country, which JRR turned into Numenor – so you’re not alone…
I didn’t know that, Jane – fascinating! And I don’t mind a bit if you don’t find it spooky. I don’t myself. It was horrid, not frightening.