Virginia Vigliar
Today, we’ll be talking about how to cultivate a dream practice. I personally have a deep interest in this topic because throughout my life, I've had dreams that were literally like “before and after” moments. These dreams marked times of personal growth, or whatever it was I was experiencing at that moment. I’ve kept a dream journal for years, and I truly believe that diving into the subconscious can help us find answers in our waking life, whether it’s personal growth or, as we’ll talk about later, for collective change.
I just want to mention that we’ll have 10 to 15 minutes at the end for questions, so if something comes up during the session, feel free to write them down, and we’ll answer them at the end.
Now, I want to introduce our guest, Marieke McKenna. She’s a philosopher and historian with Scottish and Irish roots, currently based in the Netherlands. She’s passionate about nature, music, and creativity, and her work spans metaphysics, phenomenology, consciousness studies, musicology, and art history.
Marieke’s recent research explores dreaming through historical, cultural, scientific, and philosophical lenses, with a particular focus on the phenomenology of consciousness and its ties to creativity. Beyond academia, Marieke is an artist, curator, and creative entrepreneur.
Marieke McKenna
Thanks for the lovely introduction, and thank you all for having me. It’s a bit daunting to see so many people in the chat, but it’s also so nice—it really shows how much interest there is in this topic. It makes sense, but it’s always a pleasant surprise to see that people are eager to deep dive into this subject!
Virginia Vigliar
So, to start, I’d love to know how you got to this place—how did your journey into dreams and dream research begin?
Marieke McKenna
Let’s see, where do I start? As often happens in my life, it all started with a series of synchronicities. The backdrop is that I was studying philosophy, with a particular focus on the question what is consciousness? I approached this question from many angles: neurophilosophy, philosophy of mind, philosophy of language, but also from perspectives like Eastern religions, animal consciousness, AI—really trying to look at it from different viewpoints. I also explored it from a more psychonautic perspective, doing research on psychedelics, altered states, meditative states, psychosis... just in general, I’m really interested in what I call the spectrum of consciousness.
When we talk about consciousness, we often only focus on our waking state, but I think we can all agree that consciousness is much broader than that, with many more possibilities. That was always my primary interest.
Then, something happened in my life that changed the course of things. I had been working in the music industry for ten years while also studying, and I wanted to transition into researching these topics academically. But because they’re quite niche and alternative, it wasn’t the easiest to get funding for this kind of research.
Then, I had a serious accident. I fell off my bike, hit my head, and had a severe concussion. I had to recover for several months, which was a very intense experience. For about eight months, I couldn’t do anything: no screens, no books, no music—basically, all the things I normally did were off-limits.
However, during this time, I accidentally discovered something that helped with my headaches and mental fog—Yoga Nidra. It’s a meditative practice that I just started doing because I was bored, to be honest. And I found that when I was in that state, moving in and out of sleep and wakefulness, I started having lucid dreams—very profound and unusual experiences. I had had lucid dreams as a child, but I wasn’t actively trying to have them. After I became immersed in Yoga Nidra, I started having them regularly and could almost trigger them at will.
I became fascinated by dream phenomenology. I paid attention to how the dream world looked and felt, noticing things that were different from the waking world. Around that time, I found out about a sleep laboratory in the Netherlands, the Donders Institute, which was researching the dreaming brain. A friend of mine, who didn’t know about my lucid dreaming interest, sent me a job opening at the lab for a philosopher and historian of science, which perfectly matched my training. I applied for the position, and I was accepted! I became an affiliate of the Max Planck Institute in Berlin and received a grant that allowed me to travel the world, conducting an oral history project on different cultures.
Virginia Vigliar:
I had a similar experience once. I had a dream where I kept hearing this phrase, and it was something like, “A woman is a root.” I don’t know why, but it just kept repeating. And I was like, "Oh my God, oh my God!" Then, like, six months later, I wrote a long-form article for Atmos about sisterhood as mycelium, roots, and that kind of thing. It came from the dream, and it just wouldn't leave my brain. It was like it just kept simmering, and I harnessed it. It's so interesting how these things happen.
Marieke McKenna:
That’s a really profound insight—“A woman is a root.” And even if you take the perspective that it’s just surreal or random brain neurons firing, which some people might think, it can still be artistically interesting because of how you work with it afterward, right?
The process that it ignites is fascinating in itself. It’s similar to a lot of spiritual ideas—we can discuss the objective reality or value of these things, but what’s really important is what they spark in us.
Virginia Vigliar:
Yeah, exactly. And later, I talked about some non-linguistic dream practices, which you kind of introduced. These are ways where you don't describe the dream in words. Could you talk a little bit more about those?
Marieke McKenna:
Yeah, I’m naturally quite a verbal person. I’m always thinking, talking, chatting, and I love writing. So for me, these non-linguistic approaches to dreams were pretty new. I first came across them when I started attending certain dream workshops. There was one I accidentally signed up for, and it was run by a theater director who focused on somatically acting out dreams, particularly looking at animal characters that appeared in dreams. Honestly, I was a bit skeptical at first—it was at 7 in the morning—but it ended up being one of the most interesting experiences of my life.
There was someone sharing a dream about a whale, and the theater director had us all reenact the movement of the whale. At first, I thought, "Am I really going to do this?" But something alchemical happened in that process. It’s hard to describe, but from a personal perspective, it felt profound. I’ve thought about it a lot—why did it affect me so much? Even though it wasn’t my dream, something in my body shifted.
Learning more about neuroscience helped me understand this. When we’re awake, there are parts of our memory that we tend to override, because we need to focus on practical things, to function. But somatic work—like body movement or breathwork—can bypass our daily mental states and help us access unconscious processes that are still operating beneath the surface. We can connect with what you might call our "deep consciousness" by working through the body.
Some examples of somatic dream work include dream body mapping, where you try to feel where in your body the emotions from your dream are. We tend to focus so much on the head, on thinking. But sometimes, when we wake up from a dream, we feel tension in our chest, for example—especially with nightmares. This is a body-based approach. Breathwork is another example, or dream dance.
Many cultures around the world, especially indigenous cultures, use dance as a form of dream work. Native American communities, for instance, and some Australian Aboriginal groups, use dance to express what happens in dreams. In the West, we don’t do this much, but these practices are widely used elsewhere. Another approach is sensory dream journaling—focusing less on symbolic interpretations and more on how the dream felt in your body. For me, this approach really changed how I engage with dreams.
Initially, I was focused on the symbols—what does the dream mean? What do I do with that meaning? Over time, I learned to stop and focus on the sensory experience of the dream.
For example, if I saw a white dove in the dream, instead of immediately thinking, “Oh, that symbolizes peace,” I’d pause and ask myself, "What did I feel when I saw the dove?" Maybe I felt joy, or anxiety. That emotional response is often more interesting than the symbol itself. The feeling you get in response to the dream is where the real work is.
Virginia Vigliar:
Wow, I love that. Yeah, most of us tend to focus on the symbol—like, "I keep dreaming of whales, but I have no idea what it means," when really, you might feel something like enchantment or safety. That’s such a beautiful way to work with it. What about recurring nightmares, though? Is there a way to work with those?
Marieke McKenna:
Yeah, recurring nightmares are a different beast. I should say, first, that this is not medical advice, but recurring nightmares can be a serious issue, especially in cases of PTSD. I’ve spoken to people who work with PTSD patients in dream contexts, and lucid dreaming has been found to be a very effective treatment for some. Lucid dreaming is a learnable skill, and we actually go into it in depth in the course.
Some people who have suffered severe trauma—like sexual abuse or war veterans—find lucid dreaming a way to take control within their dreams. They can actively engage with the nightmare and even change its outcome. I spoke to one person who had been involved in a tragic car accident at 16. He had recurring nightmares about the incident, and it had left him feeling immense guilt. He was even suicidal. But through lucid dreaming, he was able to confront the victim of the crash in the dream, apologize, and experience the emotional release he needed. It saved his life.
Of course, that's an extreme example. Most of us have occasional nightmares, and children, in particular, tend to have nightmares regularly. So how do we work with them? From a psychological perspective, nightmares often point to an unresolved emotion or unfulfilled need. They bring up things we are repressing, things that we can’t—or don’t know how to—deal with in waking life.
The first step is to acknowledge the nightmare and examine it. Often, especially with children, we dismiss it by saying, "It was just a nightmare, forget about it." But those feelings tend to linger, especially with recurring nightmares. The first step is to confront them—look at the content of the dream.
Sometimes, it’s helpful to talk to a friend or therapist about it. Somatic therapists, for example, can help you process the physical sensations tied to a nightmare. Psychologists or psychoanalysts can help you work through the emotional content. If you feel ready, the idea is to address what the nightmare is pointing to: Is it an emotional fear? An unresolved conflict?
For example, I’ve personally had nightmares related to the climate crisis—dreams of tsunamis or meteorites. These kinds of recurring nightmares are common right now, given the state of the world. They reflect a deep existential anxiety. And while we can’t fix the entire world by ourselves, we can find community and support each other through it. If the nightmare feels collective, that can also be a starting point for healing as a group.
Virginia Vigliar:
That was really interesting. My recurring nightmare is that I’m packing a suitcase, but it keeps emptying. I keep trying to pack it, but it just empties, and it's this horrific experience. And I’m always late for something. Everyone says it's about control issues, and I’m like, "Okay, fine."
Marieke McKenna:
Sometimes it’s funny how these things play out. I remember once in a recurring nightmare workshop, we were paired up to share our recurring dreams. I shared that I had this recurring dream about my dog getting hit by a car. The woman I was paired with was really into premonition dreams. I thought she’d say something like, “It’s about your sense of responsibility, or maybe you’re worried about your dog,” but instead, she said, “Maybe you should check the leash. If you keep dreaming this, it might actually happen.”
At first, I thought she was being a little over the top, but I actually started paying more attention to my dog’s leash when I crossed the road, and the recurring nightmare stopped. So sometimes, it's as simple as addressing a real-life concern. Maybe your suitcase emptying is pointing to something practical in your life—something that you need to organize or control in a more grounded way.
Virginia Vigliar:
Yeah, that’s so interesting. Thank you for sharing that. Lastly, I’ve been reflecting on the role of dreams in social change. As you mentioned earlier, we're witnessing a scary moment in the world right now. I always refer to the story of Harriet Tubman, who, after escaping slavery, went on to free 70 enslaved people. She used her prophetic dreams to guide her activism, to help her navigate the underground network and keep others safe. I’ve written about the role of dreams in justice, using examples like this and a Sicilian folktale. In your opinion, how can dreams contribute to collective healing or social change?
Marieke McKenna:
This is such an important question, especially right now. Over the past few weeks and months, I’ve felt like my work with dreams sometimes feels a bit futile when I look at everything that’s happening in the world. Here I am talking about lucid dreaming and meditative states, but then I look at the state of the planet—it's hard to justify it sometimes. But in general, the reason we remember the interesting dreams is because, in those dreams, we’re tapping into a creative faculty in our minds. My big interest right now is: how can I cultivate that? For years, I was deeply interested in lucid dreaming, but now I’m more focused on “lucid living.” I’m exploring a way of approaching life where I use my creative imagination for problem-solving, for artistic practice, for connecting with others, and for deep psychological work.
I think that’s the starting point: realizing that dreaming isn’t just this fun, whimsical activity—though it can be fun—it’s also a way of being. We can learn things from our dreams that are really useful for the challenges we’re facing in our waking lives.
For instance, when I started studying philosophy, many people around me asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you going to get a job as a philosopher? Maybe try law?” Now, I see that the number of people enrolling in philosophy courses has increased significantly. People are realizing we need critical thinking, new perspectives, and ways to reflect on the world. So, in line with that, dreams, art, philosophy—anything that helps us reflect on what’s happening—is something we need to cultivate more.
To me, that’s more important than learning about TikTok marketing or whatever else. No shade to anyone who specializes in that, but for me, this feels urgent.
So, the first step is paying attention to reflective practices. The second step, depending on your worldview, might involve seeing dreams as a source of ancestral guidance. There are many ways to interpret dreams: they could connect us to our unconscious, to symbolism, or to the vast pool of human knowledge. Some people believe these insights come through ancestral connections, but they can also come through archetypes or creative insights.
Dreams can offer solace, support, and sometimes even powerful ideas for action. For example, you might dream about your community and feel such a deep love that you think, “I don’t want these things to happen to my friends. I’m going to become an activist.” Or maybe you tap into grief—grief for what’s happening in the world, the violence, the harm to the planet. We’re at a point now where I think we should all be grieving. I’m not saying we should give up, but grieving is part of the process. It can help us make space for hope and power.
Right now, I think the biggest question for most of us is: how do we stay motivated? How do we stay connected to the scale of what’s happening in this generation? Practicing lucidity—awareness in our waking life—is essential, though it’s not easy. It’s a big question, but that’s where we start.
Virginia Vigliar:
Thank you. I think we have a lot of questions, so let’s open the floor. I’ll start picking them.
Virginia Vigliar:
Yeah, go ahead and pick the questions. Also, it’s funny—throughout the whole webinar, there’s been this zooming in and out effect, and I have no idea how to stop it!
Marieke McKenna:
I think it kind of fits my vibe anyway!
Virginia Vigliar:
Haha, yes, it totally does. So, Charlotte asks: How do you keep sleep restful and relaxing while also doing dream work or practicing lucid dreaming?
Marieke McKenna:
That’s such an important question. Generally speaking, it’s important to keep your sleep restful, although I know that’s not always easy. Life happens—kids wake up, dogs bark, you have to get up early—and I’m not a fan of selling you a narrative that’s not sustainable. We actually recorded a whole practice on sleep hygiene in the first module of the course, but when it comes to maintaining restfulness around dreams, here’s the good news: only a small percentage of your sleep is REM sleep, the stage where most dreaming happens.
Even if you’re lucid dreaming every night—though very few people actually do that—you’re still getting plenty of physical rest. So, it’s not really infringing on your sleep. In fact, many people say that their dream practice actually brings a sense of calm and makes them feel more rested during the day. That’s something I’ve heard from many people, so I think there’s something to it, even if it’s not scientifically backed.
Of course, if you’re practicing lucid dreaming techniques that involve waking up at 5 a.m. and going back to bed, that might disrupt your sleep. But if you’re getting your 7–9 hours of sleep and spending just 30 minutes journaling about your dreams in the morning, I don’t see why that would interfere with restfulness.
If you find that you’re getting too caught up in your dream practice, though, or if it becomes an obsession, that could be problematic. Some people, especially those who practice lucid dreaming intensely, may find it’s a form of escapism. For anyone dealing with dissociation, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or severe depression, it’s important to approach dream work in a balanced, healthy way. But for most people, if you approach it with curiosity and a light touch, it shouldn’t disrupt your rest.
Virginia Vigliar:
There are so many questions, it’s hard to choose. Let’s see… What’s your stance on the necessity of interpreting dreams? Do you think there’s a consequence when we reduce the dream world to the day world?
Marieke McKenna:
Oh, my opinion on this has changed so much over the years. In the beginning, I was very into symbolism. I had encyclopedias of symbols all over the house, and I was obsessed with decoding dreams that way. I love art history, and I’d look at symbols in paintings—so that was my natural approach to dreams.
But as I’ve learned more, I’ve come to realize that maybe we don’t always need to interpret our dreams. Maybe the dream’s purpose is just to sit with it. I know that sounds a bit vague, but try it! Just sit with the dream.
In our modern, productivity-driven world, we often feel the need to decode everything, including our dreams. But what if the meaning of a dream is simply to let it speak to us? To feel into it and see what it evokes?
So now, I don’t really interpret my dreams. I try to create space for them to express themselves to me. Another interesting thing is this: When you go to conferences, like the International Association for the Study of Dreams, they have a guideline that encourages people not to interpret others’ dreams. Instead of saying, “This dream means X,” you say, “If this were my dream, I might think about it this way.” This approach really resonated with me, because it keeps the authority over the dream with the dreamer. The dream speaks to you in your own language, so it’s important not to give up your authority over it.
Virginia Vigliar:
And do you have any insight into how diet affects lucid dreaming?
Marieke McKenna:
Interesting question. There are some herbs that are said to help with lucid dreaming, but when it comes to diet, one basic piece of advice is: avoid heavy meals right before bed. Eating a big meal can keep you in a lighter sleep state, which might actually enhance REM sleep and lead to more vivid dreams. Alcohol can have a similar effect early in the night, but it's not ideal for restful sleep overall.
As for lucid dreaming and nutrition specifically, I haven’t read much that directly links the two. It’s an interesting topic though. There are other factors, like age—children tend to have more lucid dreams and are also more prone to parasomnia, such as sleepwalking or night terrors. So there’s definitely a neurological component that influences dreaming, but I’m not sure how much diet specifically plays into it.
Virginia Vigliar:
That’s super interesting. Here’s another one: Do you ever get overwhelmed by the synchronicity and depth of your subconscious insights, and if so, how do you stay grounded?
Marieke McKenna:
Yes, I do sometimes get overwhelmed. The more you connect with your subconscious, the more synchronicity and insights emerge, and it can feel intense. To stay grounded, I practice mindfulness and take time to process what I’m learning. I try not to rush to make sense of everything all at once. Instead, I focus on letting those insights settle and integrate gradually. It’s about balance—honoring the depth of the experience without getting too swept away by it.
Here's your transcription, fixed for grammar, spelling, readability, and making Speaker 1 "Marieke McKenna":
Marieke McKenna:
Yeah, I mean, like, in a permanent state of overwhelm? No. I mean, humor. Humor is my answer to that. That’s like the only thing. I have a couple of friends who are also, like, knee-deep in this stuff, and you just have these, like, voice memo exchanges, or phone calls, and you just kind of laugh it out. I think, I mean, it’s important not to get too dissociated, right? So one of the reasons why I’ve always loved to work alongside these kinds of crazy studies that I’m interested in is because they’re very grounding for me.
Like, for instance, today, I was doing a consultancy with an artist, and it was really, like, okay, so where is this album release happening? And, you know, getting quotes for different venues and stuff—just really practical work, you know? And I think for me, I do both of these things consistently throughout the years because I like to keep one foot on Earth, you know? Also, for me personally, having a dog helps a lot because you’re just with the dog. And, for instance, walking a lot in nature—just staying grounded in general.
But yeah, it does get quite overwhelming sometimes, but I like it. It’s also like a choice. Sometimes I’ll leave it for a while. Like when I was writing my research project, when I was writing the final draft, which is almost as thick as a book, I had to take a break from, like, injecting myself into this world. People are constantly telling me their dreams now, right? And sometimes people would say, “Oh, you know the dream I had?” and I’d be like, “Please don’t tell me today.” I’d just cut it off—no more dreams for a while. And also, I kind of just stopped actively seeking lucidity for a couple of months. So maybe just taking a break from it sometimes, you know?
Virginia Vigliar:
Interesting. And speaking of keeping your feet on the ground, someone asked a really curious question as the last one: Have you ever explored astral travel, and if so, what’s the difference between that and lucid dreaming?
Marieke McKenna:
So, astral traveling is when someone has the feeling that they’ve left their body, which can happen sometimes even when people are awake, but usually, it happens during sleep. It actually tends to happen in that in-between state, between wakefulness and sleep, called the hypnagogic state. There is scientific research on the phenomenon of out-of-body experiences. I’ve had a couple. Yeah, I’m not going to go into details, but one was really weird. I dreamt that I was in a place, and I was lucid. It seemed to be somewhere in Asia, but I couldn’t tell what the alphabet was on the signs. I was trying to figure out where I was, and, yeah, I had this full experience that I was in the street, and it turned out to be Thailand. Anyway, it’s a long story, but basically, I do feel like I’ve had astral traveling experiences.
There are really crazy anecdotal stories of people who say they meet each other in the astral realm. For example, there was this Reddit page a few years ago—I'm not sure if it still exists—where people interested in astral travel would try to do experiments. They’d say something like, “Okay, I’m going to place a red bag in Times Square. You go there and tell me what’s inside the red bag.” Obviously, you can’t really check that, right? I’m also a bit of a scientist when it comes to these things, so it’s all anecdotal.
There’s a book called Journeys Out of the Body by Robert A. Monroe that talks a lot about this. You can read that for more in-depth insight. Also, there’s an institute called the Monroe Institute in Edinburgh that does research on this topic. I think they did some research back in the ‘70s at the University of California as well.
Virginia Vigliar:
Amazing. Super interesting. I already wrote it down. Okay, well, I want to learn how to lucid dream now! Okay, I think time is definitely up. Some people are also leaving, but I want to thank you so much and remind everyone that we’re releasing Marieke’s course on the 12th of March. Yes, there’s a special discount.
Marieke McKenna:
I think it’s good to mention, like, how broad the course is because we haven’t really said that yet. We’re going to cover science, neuroscience, psychoanalytic perspectives, and a lot of different cultural viewpoints, from Tibetan Buddhism to ancient Celtic perspectives, medieval Islamic, Christian, and Jewish traditions, Native American, Aboriginal... It’s really comprehensive.
Virginia Vigliar:
Yeah, I’ve shared the course page.
Marieke McKenna:
Great. So people can check it there.
Virginia Vigliar:
Yeah, and we’ll also send the course page via email through the recording if people want to register. It’s on-demand with live classes. We’ve recorded a really beautiful course in a very special place.
So, okay, I’d say bye to everyone. Marieke, thank you so much. It was great. I really can’t wait for the next one, which will be, oh yeah, soon.
Marieke McKenna:
Yeah, the second one is going to be amazing. We’ll have a guest, probably almost 100% certain, and it’s going to be on a really, really, really cool topic, which I’m personally excited about. We’re really honored to have her because she is honestly the world expert on that topic. So, yeah, keep an eye on the second webinar for sure.
Virginia Vigliar:
Thank you so much, everyone. Have a beautiful night, and may your dreams be amazing tonight!
Ciao, bye!
