I was talking to someone the other day who told me she never had nice dreams only bad ones. Reflecting on this and the meaning of life, as it is my habit occasionally to do, I came to an interesting conclusion. Well, I think it's interesting.
Although the experience of my interlocutor may not be typical, I would venture the hypothesis that, if we leave aside dreams that can be regarded as entirely neutral, neither worrying nor positive in any appreciable way, people's dreams are more a site of fears and worries than they are of scenes of joy and fulfilment. Even if the imbalance is only slight, our dreaming arrangements do humankind no favours.
Look at how it works. When you wake up from a bad dream, you feel relief; but this relief at finding that the dream was only a dream soon passes, and you're left with the shadow of what was bad in it. 'Oh, it was so horrible: there I was, stranded - and, all around, those scowling treevles.' If, on the other hand, you wake up from a wonderful dream, your primary feeling is disappointment. Oh no, it wasn't real; beautiful but snatched away. The disappointment outweighs the good memory of what it was you thought you had.
I'm all for accentuating the positive, but good dreams or bad ones, it doesn't seem to work that way. Dreaming - it's a bum deal.