It's fascinating to ponder the paradox within our societal fabric when it comes to the intersection of spirituality, psychology, and the evaluation of profound experiences. Consider that if you were to proclaim today that an angel visited you, imparting divine insights, you might be met with skepticism or even labeled as having a mental health condition. Yet, it's relevant to note that many of the world's major religions originated from such divine encounters.Imagine if a modern-day prophet were to emerge, delivering a new revelation, yet society rejected it as the ramblings of a madman based on psychological assessments. What if, in the intricate web of psychiatric evaluations, we missed the second coming or a profound spiritual awakening? This quandary leads us to question why psychology establishes a "threshold of safety" for individual delusions but struggles to apply a similar evaluation when entire nations engage in violent conflicts fueled by religious fervor.
This apparent paradox raises a question about psychology's role in shaping our spiritual narratives: Is psychology unintentionally stifling genuine spiritual experiences, reducing them to complex psychological processes? We seem caught in a dilemma, relying on past spiritual encounters to define profundity, potentially dismissing similar present experiences as psychiatric anomalies.
One cannot ignore the historical context that may have contributed to this societal stance. I am of the opinion that the misinterpretation of Ancient philosophical understanding of the soul played a crucial role in this stagnation, especially when it comes to the subject of sleep – or more specifically “dreaming” – and how its analysis has been framed within the context of modern psychoanalytical methods.
As there is no longer any material or physical point of reference, nor any sensory bias to influence the experience, the realm of lucidity can no longer be considered in the same context as the material world, upon its witnessing. Nor can the same logic we indulge in to understand such a material world be used to try and understand its composition. It would be akin to the prisoners of Plato’s cave trying to describe the environment outside of the cave using their limited knowledge of existence which derives from living their entire lives inside of it. It makes sense to the prisoners in the cave because it follows a method of logic devised within the confines of the inner cave reality, but to the escapee, it is simply just a very rudimentary and primitive form of the truth that he understands through actual experience that he cannot readily convey to them.
For how is he to explain there is a big ball of fire in the sky that heats the surrounding environment to a point where habitation becomes possible, and without this fire the prisoners, who do not even realize they depend on it, will surely perish? Like Plato suggests, upon returning to his fellow prisoners, the escapee is likely to be labeled as insane and is attacked for even suggesting that there could be an even bigger world waiting for them outside the cave, if only they could break their bonds, and turn their heads to experience it.
Yet this is precisely what Freud – who could not lucid dream – did when he devised his theorems on sleep and how it influences the unconscious mind. Jung, who also could not lucid dream – at least, there is no evidence to suggest that he could – was again not in a proper position to make determinations on dream symbology, in my opinion, quite simply because I know the intricate process of how dreams are created and have, for several decades been able to observe this entire process with complete objectivity and separation of it from emotive influence; I know from direct experience they have overlooked vital aspects of dreaming that are not and will not be apparent to the unconscious dreamer, such as the idea conscious awareness can exist outside of a dream whilst lucid. Ask anyone who experiences sleep paralysis how difficult it is to remain objective through such an experience and not succumb to the horrifying emotional distress it places on the psyche.
Now consider that by 9 nine years old I had mastered having any emotional response to these episodes and was able to view them with the objectivity Jung so aptly stresses as a “prime necessity for proper psychological analysis into dreams and their influences” in his book “Psychology and Alchemy”. Jung at least saw the connection of alchemy to dreaming, but even still, he overlooked the crucial aspect that it was meant to be interpreted from the perspective of different states of awareness during lucid dreaming not from the perspective of unconscious dreaming, as we have explored by tracing alchemy’s roots all the way back to the Upanishads and the idea of yoga nidra being used to transcend the world of Maya. This is not to suggest Jung’s model as entirely incorrect, but rather somewhat incomplete, when it comes to the subjects of the archetypal influence, where it seems he was content ending his model.
Because of this misinterpretation a whole method of understanding the psyche through dreams has been developed which ignores the entire aspect of conscious dreaming. Modern psychology, as we know, has its roots firmly embedded in Ancient philosophy, so overlooking this aspect is a major contradiction to that philosophy’s intended purpose.
In Psychology and Alchemy, Jung asserts that the unconscious aspect of the mind cannot be trained like that of the conscious mind, something I vehemently disagree with: I have very much been able to observe how and from what imagery dreams are formed and radically change such a formation many times during a wake induced lucid dream, and I have over 2 decades worth of experience doing exactly this, which had to be honed and trained so that these dream experiences would not be ruined.
I am now so proficient in this area of dream creation that, upon consciously transitioning into the dream state, I can cut through the automatic subconscious imagery – what Jung would consider as being results of the archetypes – that presents itself and manifest a solid dream scenario of my choosing within several seconds. This training of the mind to this level is what separates the novice lucid dreamer – who simply just passively observes whatever images form in front of them – from the adept – who takes a more active and deliberate approach to dream environment creation. It is only through the latter that one comes to grasp “the World of Forms and Ideas” so aptly mentioned by Plato at a significantly profound level.
I argue that if a dream can be experienced in such an objective manner where it does not take form until directly prompted and controlled through intentional visualization practices, then it cannot provide an unconscious influence on the mind such as Jung and Freud, and others so claim. Unconscious persuasion is therefore only applicable to an unconscious dreamer,.
If the psyche – the word of which literally comes from these Greek philosopher’s understandings of the soul – is a product of archetypal influence, then what of the psyche of a lucid dreamer who can change the forming images at will, and does so on a regular basis? We need to be very careful here when delving into dream symbology, because an unconscious dream cannot be compared with a conscious one, neither can a dream induced lucid dream be properly compared with a wake induced one. Dreams are only one facet of experience of the dream state which become less significant the more awareness is gained. It is unfortunate that Jung didn’t comprehend the warnings people like Plato – whose works he’d end up building upon – tried to make clear about using logic gained through experiencing material reality to explain the “world of forms and ideas”.
To put it simply, the experiences had within an unconscious dream, and even those had within a conscious dream induced lucid dream that suggest an influence upon the psyche from our material environment, are so very radically different from the potentiality of experience during a wake induced lucid dream, that Freud’s and Jung’s methodologies – which rely specifically on unconscious dream interpretation – fall very far short of being “unbiased” opinion and are not something that should even be considered when dealing in the realms of wake induced dream analysis, if I am to offer an entirely honest perspective.
We can compare Jung’s and Freud’s opinions with the aforementioned “logic of reality” derived from living inside Plato’s cave for one’s entire existence: their theories are too inefficient for the proper analysis of wake induced lucid dreams and do not take into account several intricacies and nuances that are just not accessible to the unconscious dreamer. We don’t allow plumbers to dictate how electricians should do their jobs, so why then do we allow the non initiated psychologist who cannot lucid dream dictate to us the meaning of a wake induced lucid dream and how it affects our psyche?
Freud’s idea that unconscious forces, for example, construct a wish that is expressed by the dream, which is forcibly distorted through the process of censorship, is a somewhat inaccurate understanding of dream formation arising from his obvious lack of experience in lucid awareness of the dream state.
The wish is simply a variable, that, whilst it can be influenced by the goings on in the material plane, can also be influenced by the goings on in the lucid realm. – they are two very different things. and lead to two very different experiences. When this variable is deliberately changed so that it is influenced by the latter, the dream often times takes an abstract form that cannot be readily communicated using the (logical) language of earth speech, much less understood by those who have not been able to reach this level of dream awareness.
How then would Jung and Freud describe such abstract concepts which hold no archetypal significance or relation to a psyche experiencing itself in lucidity? If my wish is to deliberately change my dream and form one of my choosing, then Freud’s argument becomes irrelevant because the dream has moved to an expression of deliberate intent on my end, supplanting the need for such “unconscious forces”, which are really just untamed thoughts from a weakened consciousness. It is not much different to someone who acts spontaneously according to their emotions, without first thinking them through.
To one who has truly mastered the art of lucid dreaming, there is no unconscious influence to our dreams because everything in this state is done deliberately. Hence why such an experience is in a whole different league to an automatic and unconscious dream: to get to such a level of dream master ship it takes years of dedication and much practice, to cultivate the skills required to break through the automatic imagery which really only have any bearing at the start of the dream creation process.
Where Freaud’s and Jung’s arguments again fall apart is with the composition of ”impossible” dreams. I give an example, based on actual experiences, of “talking orbs” that hold no emotional value to me, the conversation of which I find much less fascinating than the impossible – going by material world logic – form this orb cycles through, as if some sort of spherical tesseract.
One must understand that the world of lucidity is a world of unchained potentiality in which the promise of conducting such impossible simulations is more appealing, in my opinion, than sticking to the limited logic of physics that the dictate the functionality of the material world. It is a blank canvas where the physics of the dream environment can be programmed to ones choosing, just as one can do with a computer game.
Jung level self analysis of one’s psyche can therefore be considered at the novice end of the spectrum: it is something one does when they value material identity – something I did in my early years and soon grew bored of. Lucid dreaming is an opportunity to study the self without such an identity. How can an abstract form such as the above have any bearing over me when I know that what I am viewing is not directly translatable into earth based logic? We can see here that both Jung and Freud, unable to escape the bias of the subjective experience of reality allowed such bias to work its way into the very backbone of their theories. This bias of experience is so subtle yet so pervading that many of us do not even realize its presence within our own spheres of determination, and can be said to be the root cause of Jungian and Freudian “ego”.
Water, as another example, cannot be seen as a symbol of the unconsciousness when I deliberately create it simply out of wanting to experience walking along a beach. It becomes something of an art form no different to creating a beautiful piece of music or painting a picture; creating a dream from nothing is one of the most satisfying forms of creativity one can experience, and I say that as a musician myself.
Going another way, we can delve into René Descartes' philosophy on dream skepticism, as presented in his Meditations, and draw connections to not just Jungian/Freudian logic, but the logic of which all psychology is built around: epiricism. As we delve into Descartes' skepticism, it's noteworthy that his philosophical inquiries not only influenced subsequent thinkers but also found resonance in the development of artificial intelligence: Alan Turing and John Von Neuman literally developed computers as means to test AI algorithms trying to answer Descartes questions on consciousness and if computers could think. His musings on the unreliability of sensory perception thus laid the groundwork for questioning the authenticity of experiences, a concept that has been instrumental in discussions about the nature of consciousness and its potential replication within computer systems, making it a key bridging component between consciousness, dreams and the concepts present within the Leverian Theology
Descartes' philosophy—previously employed by philosophers like Plato and Aristotle but gaining more prominence with Descartes himself—commences with the vivid image of him sitting dressed by a fire. This scenario prompts him to question the very nature of his reality, pondering whether he is truly experiencing this moment or merely dreaming it. His contemplation leads to a profound realization: the senses we instinctively rely upon to distinguish reality from illusion are inherently fallible. Even in moments when he believes he is awake, the recurrence of dreams, such as sitting dressed by a fire, challenges the certainty of his waking state. This philosophical exploration suggests that any state dependent on our senses should undergo rigorous testing to ensure its foundation in reality.
Building upon this foundation, we can now explore how Descartes' doubt, intertwined with the experiences of wake-induced lucid dreaming, raises profound questions about the universality of archetypes and their connection to external symbols. This, in turn, allows for an intriguing inquiry into consciousness as a programmable agent and what its implications would be for our understanding of reality.
Transitioning to the application of Descartes' doubt to psychological theories, particularly those proposed by Jung and Freud, if the material world itself is subject to doubt, as suggested by Descartes' skepticism and potentially reinforced by the experiences of wake-induced lucid dreaming, it raises questions about the universality of archetypes and their connection to external symbols. If we are to develop a psychological means of evaluation based on philosophies positing the material world as an illusion or a lesser creation of a more divine world, Descartes' dream skepticism should be the foundational philosophy applied to such evaluations. So why wasn’t it? We can extend this evaluation to the role of empiricism within psychology established by people such John Locke, George Berkely and David Hume, that placed importance upon sensory experience and empirical observation upon trying to understand the mind. This seems somewhat contradictory when taking into account the idea that the very Philosophies psychology was based upon dealt specifically with cautions about using the material world to understand the mind. We can directly trace this back to the Christian theological model of the mind being attached to materialism, changing it from its attachment to a more spiritual domain as highlighted in the original philosophies, and as we explored in past chapters, where Clement of Alexandria seemingly misinterpreted concepts such as Gnosis and Logos. This means that psychology has evolved into a system of material worship that forsakes and dismisses the very metaphysical aspects its original philosophies tried to convey.
If the material world itself is subject to doubt – in which it could be stated that wake induced lucid dreaming has a tendency to sow such an idea, as it allows for a direct comparison of experience between that of the waking world and that of the dreaming world – the universality of archetypes and their connection to external symbols may also be questioned. Descartes' doubt calls for a reevaluation of whether archetypes truly originate from an inherent, universal human psyche or if they are influenced by the external, material environment. If the latter, then Jung’s entire theory contradicts the very principles of the systems it was based upon.
This conflation emphasizes the need for a more cautious approach to assuming the universality and objectivity of psychological theories that are primarily based on the material aspects of human experience. It challenges the idea that archetypes, for example, have inherent meaning across all cultures if the material reality that informs these archetypes is itself questioned. It encourages a shift from a rigid materialistic framework to one that acknowledges the potential influence of transcendent forces or patterns on human consciousness.
By scrutinizing historical instances where alchemical wisdom was misconstrued as a literal transmutation of base metals, we uncover how the essence of alchemy, intended for personal and spiritual evolution, has also been obscured by a material-centric perspective, which, through Jung we can see is still present even when dealing with its psycho spiritual components. Even though Jung knew better than to take such a literal translation from the alchemical texts he used a basis for his theories, he still framed them according to a model that disregarded the warnings of material bias embedded within their philosophies. As Jung’s theories were borrowing heavily from alchemy, this contradiction cannot be over emphasised.
Descartes' dream skepticism also challenges the very basis of Freud's materialistic interpretation, that proposes dreams being shaped by unconscious forces and desires rooted in the material world by introducing doubt regarding the reliability of sensory perception.
Descartes' skepticism extends to waking experiences, suggesting that what we perceive as the material reality might itself be an illusion, which we have of course explored using ancient belief systems where a similar concept is given. If we cannot be certain about the material world in our waking state, Freud's deterministic view that attributes dream content to unconscious forces influenced by this world becomes less tenable. We can see that Descartes' skepticism introduces a fundamental uncertainty that weakens Freud's materialistic bias.
Another fundamental critique of Jungian and Freudian dream analysis lies in their departure from the evolutionary consistency observed in dreaming across various species. While animals exhibit relatively consistent patterns in dream formation, these theories introduce a level of complexity and symbolism that seems disproportionately human-centric. If dreaming has evolved as a mechanism for survival and adaptation, why would human dream interpretation deviate so radically from the patterns observed in other creatures? Yet we are left with no logical conclusion as to making this departure, beyond a vague view that humans are inherently different from all other creatures when it comes to dreaming.
The emphasis on complex symbolism, archetypes, and intricate psychological processes in Jungian and Freudian analysis thus prompts us to question whether such complexity is a necessary adaptation or a construct of human psychology. If the primary function of dreaming is rooted in survival and cognitive development, as seen in other species, the elaborate narratives introduced by these theories appear to be more reflective of anthropocentric interpretations than universal truths about the nature of dreams.
Therein lies another paradox: Jung’s and Freud’s interpretation should be universally adaptable to other animals that dream. The fact that it isn’t is suggestive of an evolutionary anomaly within the human template that steered its basic instinctual behaviours towards such a psychological complex. Does this mean other animals that don’t fall victim to such a pschyological complex don’t dream in such a symbolic way? For us to argue in favour of Jungian and Freudian dream interpretation, we must also admit to this evolutionary anomaly, which opens up another can of worms: what exactly instigated such an anomaly? We can’t have it both ways.
If we examine the evolutionary aspect further we will find that sleep is, itself, somewhat of a contradiction. In the state of sleep, creatures, ranging from the smallest insects to the most complex mammals, enter a vulnerable phase. This vulnerability challenges conventional understanding which asserts that survival is the paramount driving force behind evolutionary processes. If sleep, a state of apparent defencelessness, is universally prevalent across species, why hasn’t such a vulnerability been stamped out through evolution? Could it be that there is a deeper, more profound purpose to this shared vulnerability? Darwin seemingly never bothered addressing this conundrum.
To delve into this evolutionary anomaly opens a Pandora's box of questions and uncertainties. Are our unique dreaming patterns an intentional feature or an unforeseen consequence? Or are they are the result of a complex interplay of factors, including our cognitive development and societal evolution? These questions lead us down a path of intricate inquiry, challenging our understanding of why humans, unlike many other species, experience such complex and symbolic dreams.
As we navigate this enigmatic territory, one cannot help but consider the possibility that an unseen hand, an occult force, deliberately altered our ability to dream, weaving in intricate narratives that are reflective of our material experience. We have seen such themes present within the Native American concept of the Wetiko, as well as within Ancient belief systems such as the Gnostics. The very nature of these alterations comes to light in the realm of wake-induced lucid dreaming, where experiences hint at a purposeful design to consciousness rather than it being a random evolutionary occurrence. Building on this paradox, we can consider the possibility that sleep, and by extension, dreaming, serves as a universal medium for divine communication. If we entertain the notion that a higher intelligence - a god-like force – communicates with its creations, then sleep becomes the logical designated channel for this ethereal discourse. This aligns with the idea that the vulnerability incurred during sleep is not a design flaw but rather an intentional feature, allowing for a connection between the mortal and the divine.
Thus the arrogance ingrained in the assumption that divine communication is solely directed at humans unravels when we contemplate the universality of dreaming as a medium. If, indeed, a divine entity seeks to commune with its creations – as many before me have suggested – why confine such interaction to one species, when so many of them have been given the ability to dream? The notion of exclusive divine attention becomes implausible when we consider the intricate dreams woven by creatures that share this planet: the idea god created everything in our universe, including all creatures, then decided to only communicate with humans is naïve in the extreme. Dreams, then, emerge as a universal language, a form of communication that transcends the boundaries of species, which is expectant of such an omnipotent entity, is it not? This provides context to the idea that “humans are the programs of the gods”, that are so programmed into achieving certain goals through their dreams.
However, the lens of materialistic bias inherent within systems such as those presented by Jung and Freud clouds our ability to decipher this cosmic dialogue. Human-centric interpretations become stumbling blocks, hindering the potential of understanding of a language that spans across the consciousness of diverse beings, and is inherently neutral when it comes to question of race and species.
Could it not be argued that the dream world is the one inescapable sphere of truth of experience that people no matter their religion or race share? This gets back to the question of whether we are missing out on the opportunity of communicating with god due to the materialistic bias we attach to dreaming in the form of psychological processes. This of course solves the question of why religion, in its attempts to service god, ends up creating such a divide amongst us humans, yet seemingly no conflict of creator is present within the animal kingdom, as far as we know. It is because man misinterprets the message through his own materialistic lens: through the inability to understand his dreams as products of his material identity he takes the anthropocentric symbolism at face value rather than trying decode the information that led to the dream’s creation in its raw form.
Now what we have is an entire method of psychoanalytic theory built around this logical fallacy, where the cave dwellers of Plato’s allegory try to offer their expertise on the outside world with no actual conscious or coherent experience of what it is they are apparently experts in. Trying to describe anything out of this box of understanding becomes futile, as the experience of those of us who exhibit a proficiency in the art of lucid dreaming is trumped in favour of believing in the inaccuracy of Freud and Jung’s incomplete opinions on dream interpretation. This blocks any potential progress in empirical verification being made when it comes to the subject of divine interaction through the dream state, as it substitutes a contradictive theory in place of direct experience. These direct experiences of the divine are seemingly more common within the lucid dreaming community than the average unconscious dreamer might realize. Applying the Leverian Theological model to the argument reveals the significant influence of cultural materialism on the shaping and interpretation of dreams. This model challenges the assumed universality of archetypes and symbols, suggesting that their significance might be culturally contingent. Additionally, it prompts a reevaluation of Freudian and Jungian dream theories, rooted in materialistic frameworks. These theories not only reflect societal tendencies but also perpetuate a worldview where symbolic representations, such as the obsession with symbols like money, are given undue importance. The disproportionate significance placed on these illusions over intrinsic human values exposes a cultural bias that permeates various aspects of life, impacting how individuals and societies assign meaning to the subconscious experiences explored by Freud and Jung
The Leverian Theology's argument not only challenges the materialistic bias within Freudian and Jungian dream interpretation but extends its scrutiny to broader societal values influenced by this bias. The observation that humans ascribe immense importance to symbolic illusions, such as money, while dismissing the profound experiences within a lucid dream as 'not real,' exposes a deep-seated hypocrisy. The theology argues that this inconsistency in assigning value points to a fundamental flaw in our societal framework—one that selectively upholds materialistic constructs over subjective experiences and arbitrarily relies on outdated religiosity to dictate what is spiritually 'correct. In delving deeper into the intricacies of human perception and bias within the context of the Leverian Theological model, we confront a striking manifestation of materialism—humanity's obsession with virtual realities and constructs. This fixation extends beyond the physical realm, where individuals not only attribute significance to tangible possessions but also immerse themselves in digital simulations and alternate realities. The modern era witnesses a peculiar devotion to virtual constructs, from immersive video games to social media platforms and even news outlets, where the pursuit of online validation parallels the real-world quest for material success. Again this backs up the idea in the Upanishads that suggests the Asuras “feed humanity illusions” to keep them fixated upon the illusory world of Maya.
Within the Leverian Theology's framework, this phenomenon thus serves as a poignant illustration of the pervasiveness of material bias that governs human interactions. The theology contends that just as individuals assign unwarranted value to pieces of paper or binary numbers, they extend this inclination to invest importance in the virtual, which evidences materialism as a dominant archetype, if we are to go by Jungian theory. By choosing to immerse themselves in simulated worlds, humans exhibit a profound disconnect from the divine. The illusory nature of virtual realities becomes emblematic of the broader issue—the tendency to prioritize superficial, fabricated experiences over a more profound understanding of existence: a perpetuating a cycle of distraction from the cosmic dialogue hinted at by the theology.
In conclusion, the Leverian Theology's argument urges a reevaluation of the criteria by which we determine what is deemed "real" or meaningful. By challenging the prioritization of materialistic illusions over human life, the theology advocates for a paradigm shift. This shift is not confined to dream interpretation but is presented as essential for a holistic and unbiased approach to psychology and spirituality. The call is for a broader perspective that transcends the confines of materialistic bias, inviting a deeper understanding of the complexities of the human experience
This underscores the true value of the Leverian Theology: by reducing the concepts of alchemy and its Kabbalistic offshoot to a purely systematic model, we can eradicate such bias while devising a logical analysis of such abstract concepts, if only rudimentary. This, in a way solves our dilemma of not knowing “truth”, due to our inherent inability to disconnect from our material identity, allowing us to supplant the need for such truth with a logical estimation of it that we know works, as it has been tested vigorously within our own technological models.
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