The Way of the Dream Walker

I’m reminded of the Gospel of Saint Thomas, a Gnostic text. One of the sayings attributed to Jesus reads, “Lift a stone, and you will find me. Break a twig, and I am there.” The message is clear—we need no intermediary between ourselves and the divine. Rather, this story I want to unfold today will make that practical. It will show you how your dreams are far more useful than you may have considered before.

If you’re an avid dreamer, a dream walker, someone who works and dreams, you’ll find perhaps some new tools today. If you’re not attuned to your dreams or think you don’t dream, today’s conversation might change that perspective and open you to the possibilities of the master within. Let’s get into it. And as always, remember: live deliciously.

Dream practices have been explored in nearly every tradition. The human being dreams. Those who say they don’t dream simply don’t remember them. There are many reasons for this: a cluttered conscious mind, daily stress, or even repressive beliefs. But the dream gate is a vital one in both magical arts and spiritual practices.

For a long time, I’ve emphasized the importance of active imagination. On the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, imagination is attributed to Tiphareth—the sphere of beauty. This reveals the relationship between beauty and the heart’s perception of truth, showing imagination as a gateway into the unconscious, the collective unconscious, and even the superconscious.

What are our dreams, then?

One interpretation is that dreams allow the unconscious mind to process excess data from the day. The cerebellum takes in 400 billion bits of data per second, while the neocortex processes only about 2,000. Dreams allow the brain to sort, integrate, and translate this into something the conscious mind can understand. But that’s only part of the story.

Then there’s the Jungian interpretation. Every dream component is a facet of the self. Dream of a grandmother or father, and you’re really interacting with the symbolic aspect of your psyche—the soul. This makes sense when you think about heaven and hell as psychic rather than physical states. Viktor Frankl’s logotherapy illustrates this beautifully: people in the same external hell experienced it differently depending on their inner world.

Yet this too is only part of the whole.

Shamanic traditions take another stance: dreams are real. They are alternate realities. Many indigenous practices—from the shamans of Peru to the aboriginal dreamtime—treat dreams as access points to different dimensions. Whether it’s literal communication with spirits or symbolic engagement with one’s psyche, the result is the same: transformation.

Symbols differ by culture. A dragon or serpent means something different in Asia than in the West. Shared symbols and dream motifs can arise in groups, covens, or cultures because the group mind adopts shared ontologies. The metaphor I use is this: imagine you’re in a locked room, and so is another being, far more intelligent and free than you. It wants to communicate, but you don’t share a language. The challenge is to build one.

Language is just a collection of symbols with agreed meanings. It’s the magician’s first technology. Like Dee and Kelley learning Enochian, we must learn to decode the symbols of our dreams. The dream space becomes a dialogue—not just introspection, but communion.

Add to this linguistic relativity—the idea that language limits and defines thought. In Sanskrit, there are hundreds of words for love; in modern English, just a handful. This drastically changes how we experience emotion. And our dreams follow this same limitation—defined by what we’ve allowed ourselves to feel, believe, and name.

This spiritual communication begins when you notice the symbols—not with judgment, but curiosity. What does the blue cat mean to you? Not to Jung. Not to a book of symbols. But to your inner world, your experiences, your psyche.

You are the master. You are the divine. Stop projecting your godhood. Start listening inwardly.

When the sacred Other starts knocking—dreams, visions, symbols—record them. Don’t rationalize them. Don’t filter them. Let them speak in their language. Use a dream journal or voice notes. Engage actively. Ask questions. Begin a relationship.

This is how your internal magical language is born.

Mediums and psychics start here too. The first messages they channel are often for themselves. It’s a spiritual law: clear your own lens before trying to see for others. Heal your inner eye before offering vision to the world.

This is shadow integration. This is self-initiation. This is practical spirituality.

If interpretation is difficult, share dreams with trusted groups. Use the phrase, “If it were my dream, I would…” to offer perspectives without imposition. Over time, you will see recurring patterns and forge your own internal system of correspondence—one not dictated by tradition, but by authenticity.

This becomes your magical language. You can name the Other. Call it the daemon, the higher self, God, the unconscious—it’s all narrative. Choose what resonates.

One warning: don’t post your full dream maps on social media. These are your spiritual fingerprints. In the hands of skilled manipulators—or advanced AI—your symbols can be used to target and influence you. Keep your inner mysteries sacred. Share them only with those who are initiated into your trust.