Very rarely do I have dreams that seem to have any significance of any kind. My dreams are usually completely illogical and sometimes even impossible, and they’re never good for anything more than a laugh once I’m awake. My husband, on the other hand, once dreamed that he was in our school library and that he did something rather clever that had to do with a computer, and when he woke up he realized that he could do the same thing in real life and that it was actually a good idea. He was able to do some little technological trick because his dream-self had a flash of inspiration. When he’s not being clever, he seems to be fighting monsters and saving the world, because his dream-self is a pretty ambitious guy. Apparently he’s pretty resourceful, too.
My dreams are never quite as interesting or useful. For instance, I dreamed last night that I was in a car with a friend of mine and that her grandparents were driving us around, and I had the vague idea that we were going to a dance, but I’m not sure where, and I kept wondering why she wasn’t dressed up and if we were ever going to get there. Most of my dreams follow this pattern: plausible, but unlikely; nonsensical, and confusing in the details. But two nights ago I had a dream that was a bit more striking, and which I remembered distinctly when I woke up.
In the dream, my husband and I had a lot of animals. We were somewhere which, in retrospect, looked a little like Platform 9¾ in Harry Potter. All of our animals were in cages, but my father-in-law was telling us that we should let the animals out, because there were people who would like to see them. (Thus far, the dream didn’t make any more sense than any of my other dreams; it was just a little more exciting than usual.)
I guess we decided that we really ought to release our animals, given the public curiosity. So the cages were opened (but I don’t think we were the ones who did it). There really weren’t very many animals, and I think most were four-legged and furry (no snakes or anything, fortunately!) The only animal I remember specifically was a lion.
It looked like a lioness, probably because earlier in the day (the real day, not the dream-day) I had watched a video of a lioness. But I didn’t really feel like it was female in the dream. The lion looked at me, and it was a very human, knowing look. And suddenly I wanted to speak to him. I ran to the lion and leaned against his side, and he was very furry and comforting, and I said something that I can’t quite remember. I think I said, “I’m sorry.” And being beside the lion was very peaceful, and I felt safe.
Either the dream got weird and unmemorable at that point, or I woke up. In the morning, I didn’t really remember any other parts of the dream. But the lion part didn’t go away. I kept going over it in my mind, and I kept remembering an impression which I had within the dream. It was a feeling of contentment and simple, child-like pleasure. It was from the moment when I saw the lion and he looked at me, and he looked like a friend.
I know it’s counterintuitive to think of a lion as a friend. Generally when we think about them we remember that they could rip us limb from limb if given the chance. And yet for some reason, in my dream-mind, the lion was everything that was right and good.
Maybe it was C. S. Lewis who taught me to think of the lion as a friend.
The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into the large wise face.
C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian
I remember reading the Narnia books years ago and wondering what it would be like to play with a lion. Aslan is at many times described in terms of a large, friendly cat. Think of having a lion as an ally – how safe you would feel! Imagine walking at his side and seeing people run in terror from such a beautifully terrifying animal. There is a strange fascination to be found in things which are both lovely and frightening. For me, the ocean is one such thing – fear-inducing in its vastness and darkness, and yet perhaps one of the most wonderful parts of the natural world. Man has never made anything that rivals its beauty.
Mr. and Mrs. Beaver explain to the wide-eyed Pevensie children in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe how this paradox can exist. At least, they try to explain.
“Ooh!” said Susan. “Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”
And when you stop to consider it, the whole thing makes perfect sense. A lion could crush you at any moment. You wouldn’t want to make him angry. But if you trusted him not to kill you with one swipe of his enormous paws, the wonder would be that he could do it and was choosing not to. How marvelous to be on the better side of such power!
People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time. If the children had ever thought so, they were cured of it now. For when they tried to look at Aslan’s face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn’t look at him and went all trembly.
C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
Perhaps my apology to the lion in my dream was the echo of Lucy’s words in Prince Caspian as she is gently chastised by this most powerful of friends.
From somewhere deep inside Aslan’s body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, who understood some of his moods.
In my dream I knew the lion was no enemy. I felt that he was more than a lion. I hesitate to say that my dream has truly deep significance, given the trivial nature of nearly all my dreams and the usual ridiculousness in which they are couched (and this particular dream was no exception). But in this dream my encounter with the lion left me feeling comforted, forgiven, and secure.
I’ve long regarded C. S. Lewis as a friend of mine, although he died decades before I was ever born. Lewis said that at the time he started writing about Narnia, he’d been having strange dreams about lions. I am in good company.
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They will follow the LORD; he will roar like a lion. When he roars, his children will come trembling from the west.
“Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed.”
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