DEBORAH HILLMAN
Independent Researcher
4 Mechanic St., Unit 11
Montpelier, VT 05602
The dream work movement, which gained visibility in this country in the
1980s (and is now international in scope), has helped to encourage the study of
dreams in anthropology and elsewhere. Dream life, however, is seldom
explored in ethnographies on other subjects, and few anthropologists seem
inclined to consider the data of dreaming. That, along with a general lack of
attention to neuroscience, has shaped (to this day) the study of dreams and
dreaming in anthropology. That is the backdrop against which Laughlin’s
timely new book has emerged, paving the way toward a neuroanthropology of
dreaming. The author—a pioneering neuroanthropologist trained in Tibetan
dream yoga—weaves together an impressive amount of experiential knowl-
edge and scholarship, creating an account that is personal, thought provoking,
and deeply insightful. It is a work that one can approach on many different
levels: a contemplation of the role of dreams and dreaming in human experi-
ence; a history of the anthropological study of dreaming; an exploration of
inner terrain and alternative states of consciousness; and a call for a greater
appreciation of dreams in Western culture.
The book is engaging as much for the speculative pathways it takes us down,
as for the insight and information it offers. Laughlin shares his experience with
readers, informs us of his biases, and speaks to us, at frequent turns, as though
he were merely chatting—a breath of fresh air in a book whose essence is
strongly academic. “Communing with the Gods,” he explains early on, “is not just
another compendium of all the weird and wonderful ways that humans differ
in their dreaming. . . . Rather, my intent in writing this book is to present the
reader with a full account of dreaming, grounded both in the range of dreaming
experiences and dream cultures around the planet, and in the biological pro-
cesses that explain this range” (p. 22). Sixteen carefully crafted chapters struc-
ture the lively adventure, collectively revealing the many intellectual facets of
Laughlin’s career. The wide-ranging view that the book presents will interest a
variety of readers: anthropologists, dreamers and dream researchers, students
of consciousness, and those concerned with the field of neuroscience. The text
is destined to be a must read for ethnographers focused on dream life, and for
those who would like to become more attentive to dreams in the course of their
fieldwork.
This is not a “how-to” book to teach the basics of “dream work”—that is,
approaches to working with dreams within a Western context—for which a
growing body of literature exists in the dream work movement. Laughlin,
however, acknowledges the movement (in a chapter called “Dreaming in the
Modern Age”), and calls it “one of the most notable examples of the inherent
drive to health” (p. 476). He also offers some heartfelt wisdom for aspiring
dream workers:
If the intent is to increase awareness of one’s dreams and write them down, puzzle
over their meaning and maybe share them with other dreamers, then no, one does not
require a teacher to be safe. But if one intends to practice one of the dream yogas
full-on, carry out lengthy retreats or use powerful ritual drivers in their practice, then
they would be well-advised to seek a guide. And if the dreamwork involves healing
oneself, then guidance of a psychotherapist or other healer might be safer and more
productive. My stipulation is this: Avoid any and all ideologies, whether they
254 Anthropology and Humanism Volume 37, Number 2
Indeed, transcendent dreaming is the primary focus of the book. It is the kind
of dreaming that takes one beyond the boundaries of ego consciousness and
opens the mind to a more expansive awareness. One of Laughlin’s central
concerns is the nature of lucid dreaming, especially for people in polyphasic
cultures. A dream, according to the Western conception, is lucid, Laughlin
explains,
if we are aware within the dream that we are dreaming and that we are not awake. . . . There
is a lot wrong with this definition of lucidity from an anthropological point of view,
not the least being its inherent ethnocentricity. It assumes a culture in which waking
states and dreaming states are distinct, one being associated with active awareness
and the other not. We would hardly expect that kind of distinction to be made by folks
brought up in a fully polyphasic culture. [p. 134]
Laughlin takes that crucial observation even further, suggesting the wide-
spread experience of lucidity in polyphasic dream cultures. He views lucidity
not as a unitary state, but a kind of continuum, in which the brain’s prefrontal
cortex plays a prominent role. Culture, Laughlin writes, “has an enormous
influence on lucidity and how lucidity is used by the dreamer. Lucidity is a
characteristic of the ‘big,’ important, ‘culture pattern,’ dreams had by peoples
around the world. It is particularly a quality of shamanic dream journeys” (p.
161). A list of “indicators of probable lucidity” (pp. 159–160), for evaluating
ethnographic dream reports, suggests the range of possible effects of prefrontal
cortex involvement. Some of the “indicators” Laughlin proposes raise intrigu-
ing questions, as they are not currently thought of as signs of lucidity in
Western science. “Vivid and brilliant colors” and a “plot line of significant
duration” (p. 160), for example, are possible in what we think of as ordinary
dreaming. Future studies will benefit from a collaborative team approach,
involving neuroscientists as well as ethnographers.
Laughlin’s perspective is decidedly Jungian—a fact that he makes quite
clear—and his treatment of archetypes is especially cogent. The way he sees it,
the archetypes “are either inherent systems of neural circuitry, or they do not
exist. . . . Lodging the archetypes in the brain does not mean that there is no
spiritual [experience] involving the archetypes, or that there is no sublime
dimension to reality” (p. 317). In keeping with that, he suggests that these living,
“species-typical” structures might be involved in communications that occur at
the quantum level:
Montague Ullman would, no doubt, have enjoyed such speculation. His own
contributions, in the areas of parapsychology and experiential dream groups,
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Reviews 255
that so many of us remain unconscious while asleep. It is not a coincidence that our
upbringing denies and blocks out that aspect of our psychological natures. If I am
correct, the lack of dream involvement is part of the conditioning into false conscious-
ness that a capitalist, post-industrial political economy requires. [You] may wish to try
a thought experiment: Imagine what would happen to our society and way of life if
everybody suddenly started dreaming more lucidly.” [pp. 499–500]