The Dreams That Brought Me Back To My Grandmother

I remember lying awake at 5 years old, staring at the ceiling in wonder and confusion about what I’d just dreamt, starving for an answer about what it meant. For many years, it was common to wake up frustrated and emotionally tied to images and experiences that felt made up, but having nothing to help make sense of it. I’d go to bed again later most nights, still feeling strongly connected to the dream, even if the images and memories of their events had faded back into my subconscious.

As a teenager who’d finally gotten regular access to the internet, I’d lie in bed before it was time to get up for school, searching the meanings of symbols on Dreammoods.com, an online dream dictionary, trying to piece together the scenes from the night before, only to leave just as confused about how what I was feeling fit into each definition of a symbol. As the years went on, I got busy and pushed my dreams down as I got up to get ready for the day.

And then, after years of ignoring decades-old grief, it came knocking, this time refusing to be turned away by showing up by way of recurring dreams. I dreamt about visiting my grandparents’ home and spending more time with my grandma. Many of my fondest childhood memories were at my grandparents' home, and every time I woke, I felt closer to my grandma and to those memories. And while I also felt longing and an aching sorrow upon being brought back to waking reality, the feeling of being reconnected to her and a place I loved so much made me want to go back. I’d get ready for bed, excited about when I might return and curious about how the scenes might look different. I wrote down every time I visited, and along the way, I recorded fragments of other dreams I’d been having in between. The more I wrote down my dreams, the better I could recall them, and I began to understand the emotional charge behind these seemingly random scenes. And in fact, they weren’t random at all, but merely mirrors and invitations.

A picture of me + my grandmother | a sketch of my grandparents’ home

Those dreams at my grandmother’s house gave me a safe place to witness my grief, meet my grandmother, and all of the buried feelings I’d ignored and desperately needed to allow room to breathe again. And alongside those dreams, I began to notice a pattern where other feelings and experiences in my life were asking to be noticed, too. We often treat dreams as meaningless things that happen when we sleep, like background noise to ignore once we wake up.

But what if we reframed dreams as tools to help us work through waking-life situations, process our feelings, and grow?

Shortly after this set of realizations, something in me shifted, and I painted ‘Vivid Dreamer’. This painting proved that dreams and waking life are not separate but deeply intertwined, informing each other, and that paying attention leads to clarity. If you’ve been dreaming of someone you’ve lost, or revisiting a place that no longer exists, consider writing it down the next time you wake. Notice how it feels in your body. Notice what lingers. Sometimes the act of tending to a dream is the first step in tending to yourself. I’ll share more about the dream that led to “Vivid Dreamer”, and what it taught me about how dreams communicate, in my next post. If you’d like to receive it, you can subscribe below.