Sleep and Dreams

D. H. Lawrence says some very amusing things about sleep and dreams in his brilliantly crackpot work of 1922, Fantasia of the Unconscious, which - following another sleepless night - I thought it might be interesting to re-examine here.

For Lawrence, sleep is a phenomenon that relates both to his cosmology and his thanatology; the moon being not only the centre of our individuality and the pole that governs nighttime activities, but a meeting place for cold, dead, angry souls. Each time we lie down to sleep, says Lawrence, we constitute within ourselves a body of death and this body of death is laid in line by the activities of the earth's magnetism or gravitation - what he terms the circuit of the earth's centrality: "It is this circuit which is busy in all our tissue removing or arranging the dead body of our past day."

In other words, for Lawrence, there is a kind of cleansing and terrestrial current moving its way through our nerves and our blood as we sleep; "sweeping away the ash of our days' spent consciousness towards one form or other of excretion". This earth-current, however, whilst an active force, is not strictly speaking a vital one; rather it is death busy in the service of life and which, as it sweeps, stimulates in the primary centres of consciousness "vibrations which flash images upon the mind". 

Somewhat surprisingly, these dream-images should not be a matter of any great concern to us. Indeed, Lawrence views them as purely arbitrary; "as disconnected and as unmeaning as the pieces of paper which the street-cleaners sweep into a bin fro the city gutters at night". They are not prophetic of the future, even if pregnant with the past. Dreams are merely "heterogeneous odds and ends of images swept together accidentally by the besom of the night-current, and it is beneath our dignity to attach any real importance to them". Lawrence continues:

"It is always beneath our dignity to go degrading the integrity of the individual soul by cringing and scraping among the rag-tag of accident  and of the inferior, mechanic coincidence and automatic event. Only those events are significant which derive from or apply to the soul in its full integrity. To go kow-towing before the facts of change, as ... fortune-readers and fatalists do, is merely a perverting of the soul's proud integral priority, a rearing up of idiotic idols and fetishes."

Having said that, Lawrence then concedes that there are in fact some dreams that matter. But this is only when something threatens us from the material world of death: "When anything threatens us from the world of death, then a dream becomes so vivid that it arouses the actual soul. And when a dream is so intense that it arouses the soul - then we must attend to it."

The knack is to distinguish these death-dreams that stimulate and haunt the soul, from the purely mechanical images that often result from some temporary material obstruction in the physical body; perhaps because we have eaten cheese before bedtime, or too many pancakes. 

Finally, Lawrence ends his short meditation on sleep and dreams with a warning against staying up late at night and not rising early enough in the mornings; the twin dangers that threaten us today, for we have, we moderns, "made the mistake of turning life inside out: of dragging the day-self into night, and spreading the night-self over into the day." This is a self-destructive form of evil; an impoverishment of the blood. Unless it's an afternoon nap - Lawrence speaks positively about a quick snooze after lunch; for this is just a necessary readjustment in the blood's chemical constitution and vibration.

But the long hours of morning sleep are very harmful and result in inertia and automatism; we get up feeling shattered before we have even done anything. Thus it is that:

"Every man and woman should be forced out of bed soon after the sun has risen: particularly the nervous ones. And forced into physical activity. Soon after dawn the vast majority of people should be hard at work. If not, they will soon be nervously diseased."

This may or may not be true. Either way, it's disappointing to observe how Lawrence ultimately uses his madly imaginative metaphysics to simply justify a conventional work ethic.      

See: D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (CUP, 2004).  

Bodies Mystical and Medical

I'm still musing at the moment on chakras and all-things-tantra as found in the writings of those whose understanding of the body is informed by readings of "sacred" Hindu texts; an understanding which is ultimately not only lacking in scientific legitimacy but comes close to being nonsense at times (and dangerous nonsense at that). 

It's a view of the body I'm vaguely familiar with thanks to my knowledge of D. H. Lawrence and his interpretation of the Irish theosophist James Pryse, author of Apocalypse Unsealed (1910), a work that significantly influenced Lawrence's thinking on physiology and the material unconscious which, he argues, is rooted primarily not in the brain, but in the solar plexus:

"This is the great centre, where, in the womb, your life first sparkled in individuality. This is the centre that drew the gestating maternal bloodstream upon you ... for your increase. This is the centre whence the navel-string broke, but where the invisible string of dynamic consciousness, like a dark electric current connecting you with the rest of life, will never break until you die and depart from corporate individuality."

- D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (CUP, 2004), p. 75.  

Thanks to Pryse and others, Lawrence is led to the conclusion that esoteric doctrine is fundamentally a mapping of the body; not in terms of organs and anatomical function, but in terms of hidden centres of power and spiritual potential. And so, whilst Lawrence is prepared to admit that our medical-scientific understanding of the body is fine as far as it goes, he also insists that it by no means explains everything and invariably presupposes a corpse; i.e. it fails to consider life in terms of vital experience.

And so, contra objective science concerned with observable phenomena, Lawrence posits his own subjective science which proceeds in terms of intuition and the re-imagining of an ancient body of knowledge which has, he says, been repressed for thousands of years. Via the awakening of the seven principal nerve centres and the snake-like force of kundalini latent within the lower body, Lawrence believed mankind could restore the balance between the spiritual and sensual planes of being and thereby discover what Zarathustra referred to as the greater health.

Now, time was when I would have been enthusiastically supportive of all this. Indeed, I still think that the best way to counter idealism is to relentlessly emphasise the corpo/real; I still share Nietzsche's suspicion that all philosophy to date has been a misunderstanding of the body and that nihilism is first and foremost a pathological condition; and I still believe that the schizoanalytic project of building a body without organs is of import.

However, I now have zero-tolerance for New Age therapies, alternative medicines, or any anti-scientific quackery that purports to cure all via faith healing or other magical means. In as much as Lawrence's pollyanalytics and prejudices lend support to these things then shame upon them, and him, and his readers who let his opinions pass unchallenged without comment. 

For advances in medical science have produced genuine miracles; from the eradication of smallpox to cochlear implants inside the ears of tiny infants so that they might hear their mother's voice and smile. I wonder if those shamans and gurus who subscribe to what is a mystical notion of the body (more often than not based upon ignorance and religious superstition) have ever made people healthier, or a single child happier ...?