Dungeons & Dragons & Dreams
Drawing by Alexander Nemser
When I was growing up, we played Dungeons & Dragons. We’d take over a dining room table, or the floor of a furnished basement, covering every surface with intricate maps, detailed figurines, glistening dice, and enter a world of adventure. One of us was the Dungeon Master who envisioned and guided the campaign, concealing hidden game mechanics behind a cardboard screen. The Dungeon Master led our party of wizards, fighters, and bards as we ascended the side of a towering mountain, or descended through the chambers of a maze-like dungeon. Our journey carried us into a series of encounters with strange figures: townsfolk, mercenaries, monsters. Often, they weren’t what they seemed. Some friendly faces were revealed as treacherous antagonists, while seemingly menacing creatures became surprising allies. The experiences we had along the way changed us: we drank potions, learned spells, recovered precious artifacts, proved our courage, and gained revelations of our true nature.
Sometimes, when I want to Heal with a capital-H, hit all the milestones, meet all the archetypes, slough off my past, transform all my pain and darkness, and graduate from my human predicament, I forget that dreamwork is a great adventure. Like Dungeon Masters of the soul, the dreamweavers are leading me every night on a lovingly crafted campaign into the unknown. Some nights it’s a luminous ascent, others it’s a dank dungeon crawl, and often I’m just anxious because I forgot where I parked my car (again). Regardless, my encounters have changed me. I’ve met shapeshifters, and seen my own face in the mirror as a young Russian woman’s. I’ve had near-death (or full-death) experiences: from taking shelter from a charging elk with blazing antlers only to watch the tree I was hiding behind burst into flame, to being overtaken by the lava of an erupting volcano, to waking up naked in bed next to my mother. And I’ve swum deep into the ocean to discover the ruins of a temple that made me cry out with awe.
When I feel the care behind these transformative moments, I feel grateful to go down to the basement of sleep, see what enlivening, devious, and poignant situation They’ve cooked up, and take another turn on the adventure.
