The Blessing of Remembering Who You Are When You Wake Up
It's Not A Given
Have you ever considered how linked memory, time, and Self are?
When you wake up in the morning, you only know who you are, when you are, and where you are as a result of the function of your memory. If you dreamed the night before (as most people do, even if they forget their dreams), you may have just spent the entire night as multiple other versions of yourself or others, in other worlds believing you actually were that person in that place and time, and yet when you wake up, you almost immediately remember the Self or time you identify as or with.
It’s pretty incredible, actually.
You wake up and instantly know for certain “I am home,” or at least, “I am [insert your name here].” You are not startled by the person sleeping next to you. You are not confused that it’s morning, and not night, as it was in the dream you just had. You know where to go to find the coffee downstairs. You know how to brew the coffee. You remember your dog’s name.
You get the idea.
It’s all so rote. But sit with it for just a moment. Contemplate the fragility. Reflect on the control we give up every time we go to sleep. Consider the faith it requires.
You may not consider yourself a religious or spiritual person. But I invite you anyway to consider that, indeed, some faith is required upon falling asleep.
(This may be a particularly useful contemplation if you struggle with sleep issues.)
Have you ever been administered anesthesia? It’s an even more dramatic example of just how vulnerable our sense of Self and experience of time are.
One minute you are here (let’s say, in the operating room), and the next minute you are there (in the recovery room.) There is no memory of what’s taken place in-between, no passage of time. Memory has been compromised. Yet, we still wake up with a sense of Self and a belief that time has passed even though you don’t have any recollection of the events that presumably took place in-between.
Most of us hardly ever take notice of how delicate it all is: our experience of Self and our experience of time.
Time and Self are not givens, in fact.
All it takes is knowing someone with a traumatic brain injury or dementia to realize just how delicate our sense of Self and experience of time are. It’s something we should perhaps be more grateful for than we are. Or at least more curious about.
This is one of the main reasons I have been saying a morning prayer in recent years: I have been feeling ever more thankful for just how automatic my memory is each morning, just how lucky I am to again know who and when I am when I awaken.
Not only do I get to travel to foreign destinations in my dreams, and live other people’s lives, but I get to wake up in the morning and still be in this body and this life that I cherish so, with all its imperfections.
I use the prayer offered to me by Judaism, the Modeh Ani. I’ve known this prayer almost my entire life, and yet it’s only in recent years that I’ve learned that the Modeh Ani is specifically worded to give thanks to God for “returning our souls” after sleep. As a very active dreamer, this blessing seems particularly true and appropriate to me. I often feel as my soul has left my body while asleep and wandered about in various dimensions, eras, localities, or points-of-view.
If after considering all the above, you feel moved to be grateful upon waking for the return of your own soul / consciousness / memory / awareness, I invite you to choose a prayer or practice that feels appropriate to you. I find that being grateful simply for the return of my soul each morning is one way to start the day off positively, even on mornings I wake up cranky, anxious, or dreading what lies ahead of me.
Once you start thinking about memory and time, you realize that even when fully awake and “ensouled,” we are constantly at the mercy of memory. Without memory, there is no experience of time, no continuity between one sensation or perception, and another; no association between one experience and the next.
We have a sense of Self in the world because of memory and time.
And even though there have been times in my life I have wished my memory wasn’t as good as it is — times I wished I could forget — ultimately, I am grateful for memory.
Remembering my dreams and engaging in dreamwork have made me much more aware of just how essential memory is to “experience,” and what happens when memory is compromised or lost. Even though I am someone who has always been “time-sensitive” (ie. extremely emotionally aware of the passage of time), engaging in dreamwork has made me realize just how precious the experiences of time and Self are. I have also become more aware of how attached I am to living inside of time and having a sense of Self. It makes it that more obvious why so many of us fear death or dying.
Many people don’t realize that working with your dreams can bring up these types of questions. Most don’t know just how deep dreamwork can go. I don’t think I did either until I starting working with my own dreams, and I realized it even more once I started working with others and their dreams.
It’s such a privilege.
If you’re interested in this topic or in dreams, in general, I invite you to check out my latest Patreon audio chat, where I get into it a little more deeply. (The title of the episode is: “Recurring Places, and the Purpose of Place, in Dreams.”)
My monthly audio chats (essentially, a love child between a podcast and a WhatsApp voice memo from your best friend) are free to the public for one month after I post them. Back episodes are available to subscribers (starting at $3/month, cancel at any time). Your support of my Patreon and this Substack directly contributes to my continued work as a dream researcher.