A Raw Look at Shadow, Denial, and What It Really Takes to Wake Up—In Ourselves and Our World
I often have rich, vivid dreams at night, and they’ve proven to be informative and helpful. I pay attention to them and take them seriously. Over the years, I've even had precognitive dreams. When I was living in Vermont, I dreamed I would be taking care of my dad as he aged. I woke up from that dream mortified. I was not close to my dad, and the last thing I wanted was to care for him in that vulnerable way.
Vermont Pond Reflection. © 2009 Carla Royal.
A year and a half later, I moved to Georgia, an hour and a half from my father, not for him, but for a job. The day after I arrived, I went with my dad to a doctor's appointment and found out he had cancer. For the next two years, I stayed with him every other week until he died. It ended up being an incredibly healing time for our relationship.
The other night, I had a very disturbing dream: Apparently, I’d been doing terrible things and was discovering this. I found out that I had been blackout drunk when I was doing these things, so I had no memory of it. What I was hearing was not at all who I believed myself to be. I had done harmful things. I felt such remorse. I was trying to make sense of it all. Who is this person who would do such things when unconscious?
When I awoke from the dream, I was reminded once again that I don't know what I don't know. That there are vast parts of me that are still unconscious—maybe even doing harm. I've worked hard to become conscious. I'm proud of the work I've done and continue to do, but there is plenty more I still can't see. I trust myself to continue this work and to continue to be open to what I can't yet see.
But the dream's message seemed bigger than just personal. I felt strongly that the dream was pointing to what’s happening collectively. Huge numbers of people are walking around in what looks like a collective, drunk blackout - unable to see the harm they're doing. Unable to sober up and face what we have created.
I get it. Decades ago, when my life was falling apart, I was literally going into blackout binges because I couldn't face the despair I was feeling. It felt safer to be drunk. But slowly, my life was ebbing away. Fortunately, I was able to stop the madness before I destroyed myself.
I believe that's where we are collectively at this moment. Our life is ebbing away. We are at that moment when we better wake up, or we won't make it. Perhaps I sound melodramatic to you. So be it. I feel it in my bones. Now is the time to wake up, or we may not make it. I want us to make it!
Why We Resist Awakening (Even When We Long for It)
Awakening is natural, but it's not easy. We resist it because it's uncomfortable and painful. We'd rather stay comfortable. I've spent decades committed to this journey and know the challenges. It's painful, but not as painful as staying stuck in a way of being that harms me or the world around me.
We also resist because it’s too hard to do without support. There was a time when cultures had elders and guides who helped people navigate the disorienting process of seeing more clearly. Today, many of us stumble through it alone or with self-proclaimed guides, gurus, influencers, and religious leaders who haven’t done the work themselves. Too many don’t have the maps or healthy mentors to help them make sense of what they're experiencing.
Yet, despite all this, we can sometimes hear the faint call. Something in us wants to wake up. Our dreams can serve as a doorway, showing us what our conscious mind works hard to avoid seeing.
When a Whole Society Operates from Shadow
It can be profoundly disorienting when we glimpse parts of ourselves we've kept carefully hidden. Carl Jung called this our "shadow", the aspects of ourselves we've disconnected from or pushed away. My dream showed me that no matter how much inner work I've done, more shadow parts are always waiting to be recognized and brought into the light.
But what happens when an entire culture operates from shadow? What happens when systems, institutions, and whole societies organize themselves around collective blindness?
We don't need to look far to see evidence of this collective trance. Our current political climate grows more destabilizing by the day. Our social fabric tears along lines of difference rather than weaving together our shared humanity. Our economic systems continue to reward extraction and exploitation while ignoring their long-term consequences.
We act as if the rules of nature that show that all living systems have limits and require balance somehow don't apply to us. We keep pushing against reality, shocked when it finally pushes back.
When Dreams Speak for the Collective
Dreams can be messengers to help us hear things our waking minds might not be willing to. The dream about my father seemed to be preparing me in some way for the role I’d have with him at the end of his life. My recent disturbing dream woke me up just a little more. And the alarm is not just for me but for all of us moving through this uncertain, chaotic time in history.
Many Indigenous peoples have always paid attention to dreams. They believe dreams aren't just personal but can warn or guide entire communities. I've been working with dreams long enough to see this truth.
The blackout drunk is a powerful metaphor for what's happening collectively right now. We keep acting in ways that harm each other and this world while pretending, or simply unable to see, that we are causing great harm.
Coming Out of the Coma: The Agony of Waking Up
I remember when someone I loved was in a car accident. She was in a coma for a while, and we didn't know if she would make it. The first time I visited her in the hospital, she looked so peaceful in that coma. I prayed hard for her to wake up. Then she did. I remember how agitated and disoriented she became. Her pain levels were sky-high. Oh, how I wished she'd go back into the coma! But I knew she had to go through all the pain and agitation if she were ever to recover. Thankfully, she did.
That's where we are as a culture. If we are to come out of our coma, we're going to feel pain, anguish, and shame for all the harm we've caused others and this beautiful planet. Maybe that’s why so many choose to stay in the blackout. I understand. I really do. But damn, we've got to wake up. The future of this planet, of our precious children, of countless marginalized people depend on it.
How to Create the Conditions to Wake Up
While awakening is natural, we need to create conditions that support it. The caterpillar knows to go into the dark cocoon. The snake, shedding its skin, knows to rub against the rocks. The seed knows to drop into the dark soil. The seed requires soil, water, and the right temperature. Our consciousness naturally expands when given a supportive environment.
Often, it begins with slowing down and getting quiet. It's hard to notice what's happening beneath the surface when we're constantly distracted and stimulated. Simple practices like mindfulness and meditation, spending time in nature, or turning off our devices can go a long way in helping us wake up to what we've been blind to.
We also need honest conversations and communities where we can speak truthfully about what we're experiencing without fear of judgment or rejection. When even one person shares their experience, it gives others permission to do the same, enabling new perspectives and understanding to spark. Little will change if we have no empathy for what our neighbor or planet is going through.
The Brave Work of Staying Awake Together
I've learned that transformation happens when we're willing to face what we've been avoiding – not to punish ourselves, but to become whole. This work isn't just about feeling what we've suppressed; it's also about unburdening parts of ourselves who are still stuck in old survival patterns and still living from outdated paradigms and belief systems.
The same is true collectively. Waking up as a group isn't about forcing ourselves to dwell on what's wrong—though we do have to look—it's about healing our capacity to respond intelligently and honestly to what's happening. We are being called to take responsibility, make amends, and reclaim our ability to face reality together, no longer numb to the consequences of our actions.
It means doing what it takes to stay present—present to the pain, beauty, fear, joy, anger, despair, and hope. Meditation, mindfully and gratefully wandering the woods, doing somatic work to ground myself in my body, and paying attention to my dreams help. These practices aren't luxuries but practical necessities for creating the conditions to keep waking up.
It involves seeking out others who are willing to see clearly with me. The work of awakening was never meant to be done alone. We need each other to help us navigate the complexity of what we're facing.
My disturbing dream left me shaken but also curious. It reminded me that staying unconscious—personally or collectively—always catches up with us. The longer we avoid waking up, the harder it becomes to face what we've been ignoring.
What might be possible if we found the courage to wake up together? What wisdom and creativity might emerge if we faced our shared reality with open eyes and hearts?
I don't have all the answers. But I know in my bones that now is the time—past time—to wake up, see clearly, and act with the full awareness of what's at stake. Though difficult and painful, our collective life depends on it.