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Thursday, March 05th, 2009 | Author: admin

Here are some tips for unlocking the coded messages that your dreams are sending you:-.

1. Always keep a dream journal so you don’t forget your dreams. It’s best to use a tape recorder to record the dream when you first wake up, and then write the dream in your journal later when you have time. That way you can get all of the details out of your head while they are fresh and not have to worry about how fast you can write or how sloppy your writing is.

2. Dream Glossaries and other online dream resources are okay for reference, but remember that no one can determine what your dream means better than you can.

3. You must use a consistent approach and methodology when analyzing your dreams. Dreams are not random events and you shouldn’t approach their analysis in a random manner.

4. Often times we cannot determine a dream’s meaning right away. When this happens, just journal the dream as usual and then go back and revisit the dream frequently until the meaning makes itself clear.

5. Not every symbol in a dream is significant. Sometimes what we think are symbols are really nothing more than props or background just like in a real movie. For instance, if there was a payphone visible in the dream, it might simply be there because you expect to see one there. On the other hand, if you are feeling anxious about a telephone call you need to make, but have been avoiding, then the payphone could be a significant symbol.

6. Dream symbols can have very different meanings to each of us. There is no one answer. Use a process known as free association to link symbols in your dream with the first thing that comes into your mind when you think about the symbol.

7. Remember that sometimes a dream has no meaning. It may simply be your subconscious mind’s attempt to burn off excess energy by replaying events that are on your mind.

8. Dreams of murder are rarely what they seem, and dreaming of your own death is rarely a warning. There are other meanings to the death symbol that have nothing to do with mortality.

9. Even the most bizarre dreams can be easily analyzed if you use a proven methodology for dissecting each symbol in your dream and attaching a real-world meaning to it.

10. Never take a dream at face value. Even if you think that the meaning of the dream is obvious, you should still put it through your analysis process just to make sure. It’s very rare for a dream to mean exactly what it looks like it means.

Wednesday, December 17th, 2008 | Author: admin

Contents

ABSTRACT. Dream reports were tape recorded each morning independently for 10 weeks by both members of an adult heterosexual couple who alleged they regularly shared dreams. The transcribed reports were evaluated blind by 12 trained analysts using quantitative dream-content analysis. The couple had identified 13 pairs of dreams (17% of the sample) as shared. The mean percentage content overlap score of these 13 pairs (39.15%) was significantly greater than that of 80 randomly matched pairs of unshared dreams (5.23%). The content overlap scores of each analyst correlated significantly with those of the unblinded male subject (r = .72). The mean probability that the observed overlap in putatively shared dreams was caused by chance was calculated as 1 in 5 billion. Shared dreams appeared to occur in a distinct temporal cycle of 30-35 days. Content overlap between shared dreams was greatest in three of seven categories; objects, themes, and effect.

THE EXPERIENCING OF DREAMS of similar or identical content by two or more persons while sleeping has been reported anecdotally for a long time (Jung, 1974). Lincoln (1935) described shared dreams among tribal societies from the Solomon Islands, the West Solomons, and British New Guinea, and psychoanalysts in developed countries have reported shared dreams between themselves and clients and between clients. Reports of dream sharing are therefore frequent, old, and cross-cultural.

The first systematic attempt to collect and analyze shared dream reports began in the 1880s, when the English Society for Psychical Research collected dozens of accounts of extrasensory dreams to demonstrate various psychic phenomena (Hutchinson, 1901; Mason, 1899). Shared dreams drew little external attention, however, until Freud’s publication of three papers on the topic early in the 20th century.[1] Freud was skeptical and even hostile to such accounts, which had become associated with telepathy, and declared the phenomenon of shared dreaming irrelevant to psychoanalytic theory (Freud, 1925, in Devereux, 1953, p. 85). Indeed, Freud asserted that a shared dream is not really a dream: “Let us call it instead a telepathic experience in a state of sleep. A dream without condensation, distortion, dramatization, above all, without wish fulfillment, surely hardly deserves the name” (Freud, 1925, in Devereux, 1953, p. 77).[2]

Although Freud insisted that shared dreams could not inform psychoanalysis, he argued conversely (Freud, 1925, in Devereux, 1953, p. 85), which was interpreted by some of his contemporaries as an invitation for psychoanalytic investigation of extrasensory phenomena (Fodor, 195 1 ). Reports soon followed, detailing instances of presumed telepathy between analyst and client, including specific cases of dream sharing between analyst and client or between clients (Eisenbud, 1947; Fodor, 1947; Stekel, 1943). Deutsch (1926) suggested that dream sharing might represent a special type of “counter-transference” resulting from the unusually close intuitive bond between analyst and client. Similarly, Fodor (1951) proposed that strong emotional ties between subjects may be required for dream sharing, whereas Hitschmann (1933) emphasized the role of the intensity of the transmitted thoughts or images.

Reflecting the general lack of scientific rigor in most of these reports, however, Ellis (1947) suggested that they proved little more than the power of biased imagination when applied to coincidence. Proponents responded in kind (see Devereux, 1953), but the debate did not stimulate empirical research capable of clarifying or resolving the underlying issues.

The emphasis on telepathy as a mechanism of shared dreams waned, and more recent accounts of dream sharing stress interplay between individuals (Hunt, 1989) or counter-transference (in the psychoanalytic tradition) (Bernstein, 1987). Several other investigators have reported that people occasionally, and perhaps regularly, have similar dreams (Calogeras, 1977; Graves, 1924; O’Flarety, 1984; Shor, 1988; Ullman, 1981; Wolff, 1952). Jung asserted that “the authenticity of this phenomenon can no longer be disputed” (Jung, 1974, p. 47). Dream sharing has never been demonstrated conclusively, however, using controlled, quantitative methodology, blind measurement, and appropriate statistical analysis. Indeed, the largest source of current activity regarding shared dreams is the community of “dream workers,” whose interest is generally nonempirical and even purposefully nonscientific (Reed, 1985, p. 19).

Dream sharing, if properly documented, could have implications not only for the origin and meaning of dreams, but also for related topics such as interpersonal communication and linguistic symbolism. Therefore, when we learned of a couple who alleged that they frequently experienced similar dreams, we solicited their cooperation in evaluating their claim rigorously. We considered a priori that dream sharing would be demonstrated conclusively for this couple only if two general criteria were realized: Several blinded analysts must independently confirm significant overlap in the content of the putatively shared, but not unshared, dreams, and this overlap could not be explained by chance. Both criteria were met in this case study, which therefore provides the first rigorous corroboration of dream sharing.

Method

Subjects

The subjects were a heterosexual couple who agreed to participate in the research on the condition that their anonymity was preserved at all stages of the project. Both were healthy, successful, middle-aged, monogamous Caucasians with no medical history of alcohol or drug abuse. Both were also professionals, although active in different fields and at different developmental stages in their careers. The subjects were of similar socioeconomic backgrounds (upper middle class), similar educational levels (college graduates), and held similar political views (self-reported as liberal/progressive). At the time of the study they had known each other for less than 1 year and were unmarried cohabitants of 2 months in the early stages of an intimate personal relationship.

Procedure

Every remembered dream of both subjects was tape recorded independently by each subject within 1 hour of awakening, frequently under the supervision of the senior author, for a period of 10 weeks. The subjects were instructed in advance to report as much detail as they could remember about each discrete dream recalled from the previous night. The subjects did not discuss their dreams with each other before the dreams had been tape recorded independently, but after making the recording they discussed the previous night’s dream(s) with each other and recorded a commentary in which they identified putatively shared dreams.

A total of 153 dreams were recorded by the couple, of which 72 were recorded by the woman. The recorded dreams were subsequently transcribed by computer and printed as dream reports of approximately 100 to 2,000 words each that represented the raw data of this study. The dream reports were edited minimally by the male subject to preserve anonymity. Editing consisted mainly of substituting fictitious names of persons and places and/or deleting personal details that could have compromised the couple’s identity, without, however, altering the substantive content of the dream report. Editing never entailed adding new material to the report.

The written and edited dream reports were grouped into 93 pairs, including 13 dreams identified by the couple as shared (17% of the total sample) and 80 randomly paired nonshared dreams from the same (78%) or different (22%) nights. Statistical analyses were performed on all the dream pairs and same-night dream pairs with identical conclusions, but only the analysis on all dream pairs is reported here.

The 93 pairs of dream reports were distributed to 12 undergraduate student analysts without revealing to them the identity of the putatively shared dreams. The analysts had been trained and tested previously in the dream content analysis methodology of Hall and Van de Castle (1965), and received course credit for their work. In advance of scoring the dream reports of the couple, interanalyst reliability (which usually exceeded 90%) was tested repeatedly using the Hall and Van de Castle content analysis methodology applied to scored reference dreams.

Each of the 93 pairs of dream reports (both putatively shared and unshared) was analyzed blind by each of the 12 analysts by scoring overlap in content between them in seven specific categories, modified from Hall and Van de Castle (1965) in consultation with the latter author (personal communication). The seven categories were setting (location), specific objects (e.g., cars and animals), characters (people appearing in the dream), themes (central topics), plots and/or subplots, affect (emotional content), and effect (specific actions and events). On the basis of content-overlap scores in the seven individual categories, an overall overlap score was assigned to each dream pair by each analyst.

Overlap between the dreams in all eight categories (seven specific and one overall) was scored by marking on a linear scale of constant length whose two extremes were labeled 0% and 100%. The percentage of overlap was subsequently measured, calculated, and normalized across the cumulative scores of each analyst as the percentage of the maximum score assigned.[3] Each of the 12 analysts also recorded on each score sheet the specific item(s) of dream content (if any) on which overlap occurred for subsequent analysis of the categorical basis of the overlap and the calculation of the joint probability of overlap.

Each of the 12 analysts scored all 93 pairs of dream reports, generating 1, 1 16 score sheets. In addition, the male subject was trained in the same methodology and independently scored all 93 dream pairs. The resulting 1,209 evaluations constituted the reduced data of this study on which subsequent quantitative analysis was undertaken. Each analyst also recorded weekly the degree of her or his belief in the phenomenon of dream sharing, also on a linear scale labeled 0 to 100%. These data permitted subsequent evaluation of the possibility that the belief of the analysts was related to the scoring of dream content overlap.

Subsequent analysis was designed to test three hypotheses. The first was the overlap in content between putatively shared dreams (identified by the dreamers) would be significantly greater than overlap between randomly matched unshared dreams. The mean content overlap score of the 12 analysts was computed and compared for both putatively shared and unshared (randomly matched) dreams. The comparison was undertaken both for individual analysts and for the mean scores of all analysts. Assessment of the specific category in which the overlap of dream content took place was also determined within this first type of analysis.

The second hypothesis was that quantitative overlap scores assigned by the blinded analysts would correlate positively and significantly with overlap scores assigned by the male subject. This hypothesis, which was intended to assess whether unbiased observers also perceived the content of putatively shared dreams as similar, was tested by calculating Pearson correlation coefficients between the scores of blinded analysts and the male subject, both for individual analysts and for the grouped means of all 12 analysts.

The third hypothesis was that overlap in dream content revealed by the previous two criteria, if any, could not be ascribed to chance, as evidenced by a sufficiently low frequency of occurrence of the specific items for which content overlap was scored. The frequency of occurrence of specific overlap items (rather than categories) was measured using word- and phrase-searching software applied to the data files of the transcribed dreams. Overlap items were those that were identified by at least 2 (but usually more and often all) of the 12 analysts.

On this basis, the probability of chance overlap of the identified items was calculated as the joint probability (i.e., the product of the frequencies) of all the specific items for which overlap was scored. The items on which overlap was scored were typically more specific than the seven categories enumerated earlier. In the pair of shared dream reports reproduced in the Appendix, the category of objects was represented in both dreams by painted pictures, whereas the category of themes was represented by the visions of boiling, burning fire.

Two additional issues were evaluated retroactively. First, the temporal pattern of shared dreams was examined by plotting all overlap scores as a function of cumulative time for overall overlap and overlap in the seven specific categories. The purpose of this analysis was to reveal any nonrandom temporal structure that might characterize dream sharing. Because we had made no specific hypothesis, the evaluation was retroactive. Second, we evaluated the effect of the beliefs held by the analysts regarding the validity of dream sharing on the overlap scores they assigned, also by hypothesis-free, retroactive analysis.

Results

The mean overall content-overlap score of 13 putatively shared dreams (as identified by the dreamers) assigned by the 12 blinded analysts was 39.15% (SD = 19.56). The mean overall overlap score of the 80 randomly matched nonshared dreams was 5.23% (SD = 5.96). These two means were significantly different, one-tailed unpaired t(91) = 12.5 8, p = .00005.[4]

The overall overlap scores across the 93 sets of both shared and nonshared dreams were not correlated with the length of the dream report, r = .03, twotailed t(91) = 0.29, p = .5. Additionally, the mean length of the 13 shared dream pairs (65.1 lines, SD = 30.5) was not significantly different from the mean length of the 80 unshared dream pairs (56.7 lines, SD = 29.8), two-tailed unpaired t(91) = 0.935, p = .35. Therefore, differences in dream report length did not account for the difference in overlap scores.

Analysis of overlap scores of the 13 shared dream pairs, by specific categories, rather than by overall overlap scores as reported earlier, showed that overlap was strongest for the categories of objects and weaker for the other six categories (Figure 1). A univariate between-subject analysis of variance (ANOVA) between the overlap scores of the 12 different observers revealed a significant simple main effect of category on mean overlap score, F(6,72) = 2.63 3, p = .0052. Each mean was then compared with the smallest mean (that associated with characters) using the Dunnett procedure, which showed that the mean overlap score for objects (25.3%, SD19.3) was significantly greater than the mean for characters (12.5 %, SD9.0), one-tailed Dunnett t(12) = 2.69, p = .01. Similarly,the mean overlap score for themes (22.6%, SD = 13.6) was significantly greater than the mean for characters, one-tailed Dunnett t(12) = 2.11, p = .03; and the mean overlap score for effect (20.8%, SD = 15.3) was significantly greater than the mean for characters, one-tailed Dunnett t(12) = 1.857, p = .05. Remaining mean overlap scores (Figure 1) were not significantly different from the mean of characters, one-tailed Dunnett t(12) = 0.675-1.73, p > .05.

The correlation coefficient between the overall overlap scores assigned by the male subject and the corresponding mean scores of the 12 blinded analysts was r = .72, significantly different from zero, two-tailed t(91) = 9.84, p = .0001. For comparison, the mean correlation coefficient between scores of the 12 analysts for the same dreams (autocorrelation) was r = .65. The correlation coefficient between scores was therefore greater between the blinded analysts and the male subject than between blinded analysts evaluating identical dreams, although the difference between the correlation coefficients was not significant, Z(90) = 0.54, p = .59. Comparable correlations were significantly different from zero for each analyst individually (t tests in all cases, p < .05, Bonferroni adjusted), presumably reflecting both high interanalyst correspondence and the reliability of independent judgments.

Overlap of content between different dreams is meaningful only if the criteria for assigning such overlap are sufficiently infrequent in the entire dream set that chance overlap is unlikely. This issue has already been addressed indirectly by the greater overlap between shared dreams (39.15%) than randomly matched unshared dreams from the same couple (5.23%) as detailed earlier. Coincidental overlap in dream content is excluded explicitly here.

Toward this end, the frequency of those criteria used to establish content overlap was determined in the entire set of 153 dream reports and in the smaller set of 13 pairs of shared dreams (or 26 dream reports). The frequency of occurrence in the entire dream set of those criteria on which overlap was scored was low, often 1/153. The estimated population sample probability of chance overlap in putatively shared dreams, that is, the product of individually calculated frequencies, ranged from 4.3 X 10(sup -5) to 1.3 X 10(sup -20) (mean, 2.0 x 10(sup -10), i.e., from about 1 in 2,000 to about 1 in 1 billion billion.

For the subset of shared dreams (identified by the dreamers and confirmed by independent blind analysis), 46 specific overlap items were identified, of which four (approximately 9%) occurred in other shared dreams. Therefore, the content of each shared dream was virtually distinct from every other, reducing the possibility of random or chance overlap due to high frequency of overlap criteria.

These conclusions are illustrated qualitatively with reference to a specific dream pair, in which both the man and the woman dreamed of pictures and visions of burning or boiling fire (see Appendix). These elements occurred in no other dreams in the set. That is, these particular two dreams were novel. This pair of shared dreams received the highest overall overlap score of all shared dreams from the blinded analysts (M = 93%). Only two elements overlapped, objects (paintings) and themes (tire), however, and hence this dream pair also exhibited the highest probability of chance overlap (4.3 X 10 (sup -5)), owing to the small number of overlap items. This probability of chance overlap for this particular pair of shared dreams was nonetheless approximately three orders of magnitude smaller than the accepted statistical standard for rejection of the null hypothesis (5 x 10(sup -2).

The joint probability of occurrence of specific items of shared dream overlap (i.e., the product of frequencies of overlap items) decreased significantly as the length of the paired shared dream reports increased, r = -.62, two-tailed t(11) = 3.34, p = .008. This significant negative correlation is consistent with the increasing number of overlap items as dream report length increased, which yielded progressively smaller joint probabilities (the product of increasing numbers of fractions).

Cumulative plots of overall overlap of dream content as a function of time revealed an apparently nonrandom temporal clustering of shared dreams (Figure 2). Similar plots for each of the seven categories did not show clear clustering, although the relatively small sample size available within each category was probably incapable of revealing clustering even if it occurred.

The temporal cycle of dream sharing was approximately 30 days in length and correlated, perhaps coincidentally, with the menstrual cycle of the female subject, as deduced from the dates and duration of menstruation she provided retroactively. Maximal clustering of shared dreams corresponded approximately to the onset of menses in the woman.

The mean overall overlap score of the 12 analysts calculated weekly over the 8-week scoring period was not correlated significantly with the corresponding analysts’ mean level of belief in the phenomenon of dream sharing as averaged over the corresponding weeks, r = -.34, two-tailed t(10) = 1.143, p 10. Therefore, the personal beliefs of the analysts did not influence their scoring of dream pairs. Indeed, the weak (but insignificant) negative correlation suggests the trend that increasing belief in dream sharing induced cautionary weaker scoring of overlap.

Discussion

The data and analyses reported here demonstrate frequent dream sharing, entailing approximately one fifth of the total sample of 153 dreams in a single case study of one couple’s dreams recorded over a 10-week period. The overlap in content between randomly selected unpaired dreams (5.23%) was significantly less than content overlap in shared dreams (39.15%), suggesting indirectly that the overlap cannot be explained by chance. The possibility of chance overlap was evaluated directly by measuring the frequency of occurrence of specific overlap items and determining their products. These ranged from 1 in 2,000 to less than 1 in 1 billion billion (M = 1 in 5 billion). Additionally, shared dreams occurred at apparently regular intervals in perhaps coincidental synchrony with the female subject’s menstrual cycle. These findings suggest that mechanisms other than chance are responsible for the observed overlap in dream content.

This demonstration of dream sharing raises questions about the underlying mechanisms. The findings also have implications for contemporary dream theory, including the origin and interpretation of dreams. The purpose of the following discussion is to illustrate that (a) dream sharing can be explained, in principle, by relatively straightforward mechanisms (i.e., psychic explanations are unnecessary although not excluded); (b) dream sharing is inconsistent with existing theories of the role of dreams, and therefore, (c) dream sharing requires a new theoretical framework, one of which is briefly outlined here.

Possible Mechanisms of Dream Sharing

As evidenced in the historical account of dream sharing presented in the introduction to this article, past reports exhibited confusion between the phenomenon itself and the underlying mechanisms. In particular, dream sharing (the phenomenon) was widely accepted as evidence of telepathy (one possible mechanism among many)-an inaccurate identity that, in hindsight, impeded empirical research on the phenomenon itself.

Although the present data do not bear directly on the mechanism of dream sharing, several straightforward possibilities are consistent with the data, and the data enable preliminary discussion of each. Perhaps the most straightforward possible mechanism of dream sharing is similar or common daytime experiences by the two dreamers, day residue (Freud, 1925; Hall & Van de Castle, 1965). The specific content of shared dreams in the present study seldom bore an obvious relation to plausible real events, however (e.g., the “fire” dream pair reproduced in the Appendix). Thus, if day residue does contribute common elements to nighttime dreams, an additional symbolic conversion from waking to dream events (”distortion,” in Freudian terminology) must take place in one or both dreamers; and this symbolic conversion must be similar in both dreamers. Arguing against a prominent role for day residue is the fact that the two subjects of this study typically had different, if overlapping, daily experiences.

A second possible mechanism for dream overlap is common sensory inputs during sleep. Berger (1963) has shown that meaningful verbal stimuli can influence dream content, and common sensory experiences of other modalities may likewise induce common dream experiences. If this is the case, however, the apparent disparity between shared dream content and plausible sensory input during sleep again suggests the intervention of a symbolic conversion, or distortion, common to both dreamers.

A third and fourth possible and related mechanisms for dream sharing are common psychologies, that is, the realignment of unconscious symbolism so that they match in the two dreamers (Perlmutter & Babineau, 1983), and/or enhanced “intuitive understanding” that accompanies pair bonding (Hunt, 1989; Jung, 1974). These possible mechanisms are not mutually exclusive from each other or from the first and second possible mechanisms. Indeed, the third and fourth mechanisms could underlie the “symbolic conversion” implicit in both the first and second. In this case, the study of shared dreams could lend insight into the related issue of linguistic symbolism.

A fifth possible mechanism of shared dreams is telepathy, the extrasensory transmission of mental activity between individuals, as was widely assumed in the earlier history of shared dreams (Ehrenwald, 1942; Eisenbud, 1947; Fodor, 1947, 195 1; Mason, 1899; Stekel, 1943). This mechanism would appear the least likely, because the modem neurosciences provide no known physical basis. The present data provide no direct evidence for telepathy or, for that matter, for any other mechanism of dream sharing, although neither do they rigorously exclude any specific mechanism as a contributor to shared dreams.

Implications of Dream Sharing for the Origin and Interpretation of Dreams

Prior to Freud’s introduction of the unconscious, dreams were conceived as nonsensical collections of random mental impressions arising from somatic stimulation. The dream was considered a spontaneous, undirected, and apparently purposeless mental event, constrained only by the intrinsic organization of the mnemonic systems from which it emerges (Hobson, 1989). In contrast, Freud conceived of dreams as nonrandom structures rich in meaning that originate in the neuroses, fears, and/or latent wishes of the dreamer (Freud, 1952). Contemporary models have revisited pre-Freudian concepts, by considering dreaming as random mental noise that is interpreted artfully (Hobson, 1989; Foulkes, 1985) or “mental detritus,” discarded by the brain as irrelevant information (Crick & Mitchison, 1986).

There are, however, dreams that fit none of the above categories. Creative dreams, for example, such as Lowei’s famous dream about the experiment that led to the discovery of chemical synaptic transmission in the frog heart (Loewi, 1960), suggest a possible problem-solving, goal-directed function for dreams. Similarly, intuitive dreams have been interpreted as enhancing empathy between two or more individuals (Hunt, 1989). Neither these nor other dream categories have been subjected to systematic analysis that could disconfirm their function, however, and therefore they do not furnish a rigorous challenge to contemporary models of dreaming.

In contrast, dream sharing that cannot be explained by chance overlap of content, as documented here, implies a common origin of dreams in separate individuals. Common origin of dreams in different individuals in turn cannot be reconciled easily with existing theories on the origin and meaning of dreams. For example, Freud’s interpretation of dreams is difficult to reconcile with shared dreaming. If two individuals have the same dream, the dream could not have originated in the latent wishes, fears, or neuroses of both, except under the implausible hypothesis that latent wishes, fears, or neuroses are identical in both individuals. A shared dream must therefore originate independent of the latent wishes, fears, or neuroses of at least one of the dreamers. As noted by others, “. . . telepathic [shared] dreams posed a special threat to Freud … their existence would oppose the claim that dreams are a determinate result of psychological processes, like symptoms” (Friedan, 1990, p. 98).

Neither can shared dreams be explained as pseudo-random mental noise (Foulkes, 1985; Hobson, 1989). Shared dreams exhibit common and highly improbable content overlap, and the content cannot therefore be random or pseudorandom in both dreamers. Likewise, shared dreams appear inconsistent with the “mental detritus” theory (Crick and Mitchison, 1986), for similar dream content in the two dreamers would then imply correspondingly similar mental detritus. Moreover, if any dream (shared or unshared) were irrelevant “neural noise,” as required by the mental detritus theory, the subsequent recall and discussion of the dream implies the storage of irrelevant information. In this case dreams would have the counterproductive role of generating useless new information that occupies presumably finite memory space at the presumed expense of more adaptive information-an unlikely and unsatisfying explanation for a human behavior as universal as dreaming.

A New Theoretical Framework for the Interpretation of Dreams

The incapacity of contemporary dream theories to explain dream sharing suggests the need for a new theoretical framework. In formulating such a framework, we assume that shared dreaming, in common with other evolved behavior, conferred selective reproductive advantage during evolution and evolved in early humanoid, prehistorical tribal societies. In this context, we speculate that shared dreams and their subsequent discussion and evaluation by the dreamers contributes to interpersonal bonding-pair (in the case of the present study), familial, social, tribal, cultural-which could in turn contribute to group cohesion, enhanced individual survival, and ultimately to reproductive success. Under this hypothesis, shared dreaming would have reinforced the social bonding that presumably assisted the survival of early humanoid societies. Seen in this perspective, shared dreaming would meet the necessary and sufficient criteria for evolution through natural selection.

This evolutionary social bonding theory of dreams demands that a significant percentage of dreams are shared, as occurred in the present case study. This theory requires further that dreams are discussed among members of the corresponding social unit, as was the case for the couple studied here and is common among numerous contemporary tribal cultures (Domhoff, 1985; Lincoln, 1935; Margolin, 1978). Consistent with this theory, several authors have noted a strong relationship between dream elements and culturally shared mythology (e.g., Campbell, 1973; Jung, 1974; Roheim, 1952). The shared dream could contribute reciprocally to the emergence of mythology, which likewise might have served the interests of interpersonal cohesion within the corresponding social unit. Finally, the evolutionary theory of dreaming requires that shared dreaming contributes to bonding and enhanced reproductive success, which is plausible but untested.

In conclusion, this study demonstrates the regular occurrence of shared dreaming in a single couple over a limited period of time. The generality of the phenomenon is unknown, as are the underlying mechanisms. Further research on dream sharing could be directed toward replicating the phenomenon in a different and larger cohort, defining the circumstances under which it occurs, evaluating its frequency of occurrence in different cultures, exploring the underlying mechanisms, and testing parameters of the evolutionary model and/of alternative theoretical frameworks.

APPENDIX

Verbatim Transcription of Shared Dream Pair 160/172

Dream 160 (Male Subject’s Dream Report)

I was looking through a bunch of pictures and paintings that S. [young daughter] had made. They were big pictures on big papers, and I was turning them. There was one that was done in red lines, but very complex, and the lines all together made a pattern, and the pattern was something like a-I’m not sure what it was, it looked like red and orange boiling fire, and in the comer was a streak of orange/yellow. I had the feeling it was a man, like a god-like man in the sky blowing. I was very impressed with it, because I thought S. made it, and then I realized she couldn’t possibly have made it; it was done by a professional artist. I was looking through this pile of pictures and wondering.

Dream 172 (Female Subject’s Dream Report)

I had a dream that involved fire, and that was a bright red and orange and yellow painting that I kept coming back to, and I would kind of glance out of the comer of my eye and finally I got the word “fire” and it was kind of out of my peripheral vision, and I kept seeing this painting. It became fire and the whole room became fire I think. It was kind of like something you glance at, and then you glance at it again, and then you glance at it again and again and again and it becomes just everywhere. So that’s what it is that painting of red and orange and yellow, seeing that it was fire.

  1. The papers, “Dreams and telepathy” (first published in 1922), “The occult significance of dreams” (first published in 1925), and “Dreams and the occult” (first published in 1933), are reproduced fully in Devereaux (1953).
  2. Freud’s adamant and circular rejection of dream sharing suggests that he realized the phenomenon presented significant difficulties to his own theory of the origin and meaning of dreams, proposed also by Friedan (1990).
  3. The purpose of normalizing each analyst’s score as a percentage of maximum score assigned was to avoid giving undue weight in the mean to the scores of any single analyst. In practice, the maximum scores of all analysts ranged from about 85% to nearly 100%, and hence the normalized scores differ by only a few percentage points from absolute scores.
  4. The test was one-tailed because the hypothesis to be tested was directional (i.e., that shared dreams display greater overlap than nonshared dreams).

GRAPH: FIGURE 1. Histogram showing the distribution of content overlap in shared dreams across the seven specific categories for which overlap was scored, namely, objects (0), themes (T), effect (E), settings (S), plots/subplots (P), affect (A), and characters (C). Shown are the mean overlap scores across all analysts for each category for the 13 shared dreams in this study. Bars show standard deviations.

GRAPH: FIGURE 2. Cumulative time histogram showing overall mean content overlap score of matched dream pairs as a function of time. The mean content overlap score assigned by the 12 analysts is shown on the ordinate. Shared dreams are those whose overlap score exceeded 20%. Note discrete temporal clumps of activity recurring on an approximately 30-day cycle. The non-shared dream pairs shown here are necessarily limited to those that took place on the same night (78% of the total sample of data).

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Hunt, H. (1989). The multiplicity of dreams. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Hutchinson, H. (1901). Dreams and their meanings. New York: Longmans Green.

Jung, C. G. (1974). Dreams. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Lincoln, J. S. (1935). The dream in primitive cultures. London: Cresset.

Loewi, O. (1960). An autobiographical sketch. Perspectives in Biology, 4, 3-25.

Margolin, M. (1978). The Ohlone way: Indian life in the San Francisco-Monterey Bay area. Berkeley, CA: Heyday.

Mason, R. O. (1899). Telepathy and the subliminal self New York: Henry Holt.

O’Flarety, W. D. (1984). Dreams, illusions and other realities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Perlmutter, R., & Babineau, R. (1983). The use of dreams in couples therapy. Psychiatry, 46, 66-72.

Reed, H. (1985,September-October). Dreaming for Mary. Venture Inward, pp. 14-19.

Roheim, G. (1952). The gates of the dream. New York: International Universities Press.

Shor, B. (1988,January-February). Shared dreaming. Dream Network Bulletin.

Stekel, W. (1943). The interpretation of dreams. Vol. 2. New York: Liveright.

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Wolff, W. (1952). The dream-mirror of conscience. New York: Grune and Statten.

Received May 24, 1993

~~~~~~~~

By W. JACKSON DAVIS and MARCOS FRANK, Department of Biology, University of California, Santa Cruz

An expanded version of this study was submitted by Marcos Frank in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Bachelor of Arts with Honors in Psychobiology at the University of California, Santa Cruz

We thank W. G. Domhoff and R. Berger for useful discussions and constructive criticism, Dotty Hollinger for transcribing the dream reports, Peter Coopersmith for assistance with data reduction and analysis, and the following individuals for patient hours of skilled dream content analysis: Natalie Barnett, Karen Chandeysson, Ryder Gwinn, Chris Henderson, Nadine Kadekian, Valery Kaplan, Lisa Leo, Tom McCabe, Jay McLaughlin, Laura Medina, Ralph Porras, Veronica Tonay, and Parker Waechte

Marcos Frank is currently at the Department of Biological Sciences, Stanford University, Stanford, CA 94305

Address correspondence to W. Jackson Davis, Biology Department, University of California, Santa Cruz, CA 95064.

Category: Modern Theories  | One Comment
Wednesday, December 03rd, 2008 | Author: admin

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OTHER WORLDS: OUT-OF-BODY EXPERIENCES AND LUCID DREAMS
by Lynne Levitan and Stephen LaBerge, Ph.D.
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“Out of body” experiences (OBEs) are personal experiences
during which people feel as if they are perceiving the physical
world from a location outside of their physical bodies. At least
5 and perhaps as many as 35 of every 100 people have had an OBE
at least once in their lives (Blackmore, 1982). OBEs are highly
arousing; they can be either deeply disturbing or profoundly
moving. Understanding the nature of this widespread and potent
experience would no doubt help us better understand the
experience of being alive and human.

The simplest explanation is that OBEs are exactly what they
seem: the human consciousness separating from the human body and
traveling in a discorporate form in the physical world. Another
idea is that they are hallucinations, but this requires an
explanation of why so many people have the same delusion. Some of
our experiments have led us to consider the OBE as a natural
phenomenon arising out of normal brain processes. Thus, we
believe that the OBE is a mental event that happens to healthy
people. In support of this, psychologists Gabbard and Twemlow
(1984) have concluded from surveys and psychological tests that
the typical OBE experient is “a close approximation of the
‘average healthy American.’” (p. 40)

Our conception, also proposed by the English psychologist
Susan Blackmore, is that an OBE begins when a person loses
contact with sensory input from the body while remaining
conscious (Blackmore, 1988; LaBerge - Lucidity Letter; Levitan -
Lucidity Letter). The person retains the feeling of having a
body, but that feeling is no longer derived from data provided by
the senses. The “out-of-body” person also perceives a world that
resembles the world he or she generally inhabits while awake, but
this perception does not come from the senses either. The vivid
body and world of the OBE is made possible by our brain’s
marvelous ability to create fully convincing images of the world,
even in the absence of sensory information. This process is
witnessed by each of us every night in our dreams. Indeed, all
dreams could be called OBEs in that in them we experience events
and places quite apart from the real location and activity of our
bodies.

WHAT ARE OBES LIKE?

So, we are saying that OBEs may be a kind of dream. But, even
so, they are extraordinary experiences. The great majority of
people who have had OBEs say they are more real than dreams.
Common aspects of the experience include being in an “out-of-
body” body much like the physical one, feeling a sense of energy,
feeling vibrations, and hearing strange loud noises (Gabbard &
Twemlow, 1984). Sometimes a sensation of bodily paralysis
precedes the OBE (Salley, 1982; Irwin, 1988; Muldoon &
Carrington, 1974; Fox, 1962).

To the sleep researcher, these strange phenomena are
remarkably reminiscent of another curious experience, called
sleep paralysis. Sleep paralysis occurs sometimes when a person
is waking from or falling into REM sleep, the state in which most
vivid dreams occur. During REM sleep, the muscles of the body,
excluding the eye muscles and those responsible for circulation
and respiration, are immobilized by orders from a nerve center in
the lower brain. This prevents us from acting out our dreams.
Occasionally, this paralysis turns on or remains active while the
person’s mind is fully awake and aware of the world.

Some of the experiences people have reported during sleep
paralysis are: “I feel completely removed from myself,” “feeling
of being separated from my body,” “eerie, rushing experiences,”
and hearing “hissing in the ears,” and “roaring in the head.”
These events appear to be much like the OBE sensations of
vibrations, strange noises, and drifting away from the physical
body (Everett, 1983). Fear has also been described as a common
component of sleep paralysis (see the “Question and Answer” in
NightLight, Vol. 2, No. 1 for a discussion of overcoming fear in
sleep paralysis.)

WHEN DO OBES HAPPEN?

So, it seems possible that at least some OBEs arise from the
same conditions as sleep paralysis, and that these two terms may
actually be naming two aspects of the same phenomenon. As a first
test of this idea, we should ask how many OBEs actually occur at
times when people are likely to experience sleep paralysis –
that is, do OBEs happen when people are lying down, asleep,
resting, or while awake and active?

Researchers have approached the question of the timing of
OBEs by asking people who claim to have had OBEs to describe when
they happened. In one of these, over 85 percent of those surveyed
said they had had OBEs while they were resting, sleeping or
dreaming. (Blackmore, 1984) Other surveys also show that the
majority of OBEs occur when people are in bed, ill, or resting,
with a smaller percentage coming while the person is drugged or
medicated. (Green, 1968; Poynton, 1975; Blackmore, 1983 )

Survey evidence favors the theory that OBEs could arise out
of the same conditions as sleep paralysis. There is also
considerable evidence that people who tend to have OBEs also tend
to have lucid dreams, flying and falling dreams, and the ability
to control their dreams (Blackmore, 1983, 1984; Glicksohn, 1989;
Irwin, 1988).

Because of the strong connection between OBEs and lucid
dreaming, some researchers in the area have suggested that OBEs
are a type of lucid dream (Faraday, 1976; Honegger, 1979; Salley,
1982). One problem with this argument is that although people who
have OBEs are also likely to have lucid dreams, OBEs are far less
frequent, and can happen to people who have never had lucid
dreams. Furthermore, OBEs are quite plainly different from lucid
dreams in that during a typical OBE the experient is convinced
that the OBE is a real event happening in the physical world and
not a dream, unlike a lucid dream, in which by definition the
dreamer is certain that the event is a dream. There is an
exception that connects the two experiences — when we feel
ourselves leaving the body, but also know that we are dreaming.

In our studies of the physiology of the initiation of
lucidity in the dream state, we observed that quite of few of the
lucid dreams we collected contained experiences like OBEs. The
dreamers described lying in bed, feeling strange bodily
sensations, often vibrations, hearing loud humming noises, and
then rising out of body and floating above the bed.

Those studies revealed that lucid dreams have two ways of
starting. In the much more common variety, the “dream-initiated
lucid dream” (DILD), the dreamer acquires awareness of being in a
dream while fully involved in it. DILDs occur when dreamers are
right in the middle of REM sleep, showing lots of the
characteristic rapid eye movements. We know this is true because
our dreamers give a deliberate prearranged eye-movement signal
when they realize they are dreaming. These signals show up on our
physiology record, so that we can pinpoint the times when
lucidity begins and see what kind of brain state the dreamers
were in at those times. DILDs account for about four out of every
five lucid dreams that our dreamers have had in the laboratory.
In the other 20 percent, the dreamers report awakening
from a dream and then returning to the dream state with unbroken
awareness — one moment they are aware that they are awake in bed
in the sleep laboratory, and the next moment, they are aware that
they have entered a dream and are no longer perceiving the room
around them. We call these “wake initiated lucid dreams” (WILDs).

A casual look at the dream reports and physiological
records led us to think that the OBE-type dream content was
happening mostly in WILDs. So, we analyzed the data
scientifically in the experiment described below.

THE LABORATORY STUDY

The data we studied consisted of 107 lucid dreams from a
total of 14 different people. The physiological information that
we collected in conjunction with each lucid dream always included
brain waves, eye-movements, and chin muscle activity. These
measurements are necessary for determining if a person in awake,
asleep, and in REM sleep or not. In all cases, the dreamer
signaled the beginning of the lucid dream by making a distinct
pattern of eye movements that was identifiable by someone not
involved with the experiment.

After verifying that all the lucid dreams had eye signals
showing that they had happened in REM sleep, we classified them
into DILDs and WILDs, based on how long the dreamers had been in
REM sleep without awakening before becoming lucid (two minutes or
more for DILDs, less that two minutes for WILDs), and on their
report of either having realized they were dreaming while
involved in a dream (DILD) or having entered the dream directly
from waking while retaining lucidity (WILD).

Alongside the physiological analysis we scored each dream
report for the presence of various events that are typical of
OBEs, such as feelings of body distortion (including paralysis
and vibrations), floating or flying, references to being aware of
being in bed, being asleep or lying down, and the sensation of
leaving the body (for instance, “I was floating out-of-body”).

RESULTS: MORE OBE-LIKE EVENTS IN WILDS

Ten of the 107 lucid dreams qualified as OBEs, because the
dreamers reported feeling like they had left their bodies in the
dream. Twenty of the lucid dreams were WILDs, and 87 were DILDs.
Five of the OBEs were WILDs (28%) and five were DILDs (6%). Thus,
OBEs were more than four times more likely in WILDs than in DILDs.

The three OBE-related events we looked for also all
occurred more often in WILDs than in DILDs. Almost one third of
WILDs contained body distortions, and over a half of them
included floating or flying or awareness of being in bed. This is
in comparison to DILDs, of which less than one fifth involved
body distortions, only one third included floating or flying, and
one fifth contained awareness of bed.

The reports from the five DILDs that we classified as OBEs
were actually much like those from the WILD-OBEs. In both the
dreamers felt themselves lying in bed and experiencing strange
sensations including paralysis and floating out-of-body. Although
these lucid dreams sound like WILDs, we had classified them as
DILDS because the physiological records showed no awakenings
preceding lucidity. However, it is possible that these people
could have momentarily become aware of their environments (and
hence been “awake”) while continuing to show the brainwaves
normally associated with REM sleep. The science of the EEG is not
sufficiently advanced that we can tell what people are
experiencing by looking at their brainwaves. Anecdotes from dream
reports indicate that people sometimes become aware of sensations
from their sleeping bodies while dreaming — for example, the
dream in which you are trying to run while your legs become
heavier and heavier, perhaps because you are feeling their true
immobile condition.

OBES AND WILDS OUTSIDE THE LABORATORY

Our laboratory studies showed us that when OBEs happen in
lucid dreams they happen either when a person reenters REM sleep
right after an awakening, or right after having become aware of
being in bed. However, we wondered if this relationship would
apply to OBEs and lucid dreams that people experience at home, in
the “real world.”

Not being able to take the sleep lab to the homes of hundreds
of people (the DreamLight may soon give us this capacity!), we
took a survey about OBEs and other dream-related experiences,
somewhat like the past studies referred to earlier. The
difference between our survey and previous ones is that in
addition to asking if people had had OBEs, we asked specifically
about certain events that we know to be associated with WILDs,
namely, lucid dreaming, returning directly to a dream after
awakening from it, and sleep paralysis.

A total of 572 people filled out our questionnaire. They
were either students in an introductory psychology course or
readers of the NightLight. About a third of the group reported
having had at least one OBE. Just over 80 percent had had lucid
dreams. Sleep paralysis was reported by 37 percent and 85 percent
had been able to return to t a dream after awakening.

People who reported more dream-related experiences also
reported more OBEs. For example, of the 452 people claiming to
have had lucid dreams, 39 percent also reported OBEs, whereas
only 15 percent of those who did not claim lucid dreams said they
had had OBEs. The group with the most people reporting OBEs (51%)
were those who said they had experienced lucid dreams, dream
return, and sleep paralysis.

We would expect people who can return directly to dreams
after an awakening to be prone to having WILDs, and therefore
also to have frequent lucid dreams. Indeed, in this survey,
people reporting frequent dream return also tended to report
frequent lucid dreams. Thus, we believe that the fact that dream
return frequency was linked with OBE frequency in this study
gives further support to our laboratory research finding that
WILDs were associated with OBEs.

WHAT DO WE KNOW NOW?

Our two studies have compared the frequency of OBEs in the
two types of lucid dream, and surveyed the relative frequency of
OBEs and dream-related events in a large number of people. We
have thereby learned that when OBEs happen during lucid dreams,
they generally happen in lucid dreams that arise from brief
awakenings in REM sleep, and that people who have certain special
dream experiences are more likely to have OBEs that people who do
not. These dream experiences include returning to the dream state
after an awakening, lucid dreaming and sleep paralysis.
Above we described our operating theory that OBEs occur
when people lose input from their sense organs, as happens at the
onset of sleep, while retaining consciousness. This combination
of events is especially likely when a person passes directly from
waking into REM sleep. In both states the mind is alert and
active, but in waking it is processing sensory input from the
outside world, while in dreaming it is creating a mental model
independent of sensory input. This model includes a body. When
dreaming, we generally experience ourselves in a body much like
the “real” one, because that is what we are used to. However, our
internal senses in the physical body, which when we are awake
inform us about our position in space and the movement of our
limbs. This information is cut off in REM sleep. Therefore, we
can dream of doing all kinds of things with our dream bodies –
flying, dancing, running from monsters, being dismembered — all
while our physical bodies lie safely in bed.

During a WILD, or sleep paralysis, the awake and alert mind
keeps up its good work of showing us the world it expects is out
there — although it can no longer sense it. So, then we are in a
mental-dream-world. Possibly we feel the cessation of the
sensation of gravity as that part of sensory input shuts down,
and then feel that we are suddenly lighter and float up, rising
from the place where we know our real body to be lying still. The
room around us looks about the same, because that is our brain’s
best guess about where we are. If we did not know that we had
just fallen asleep, we might well think that we were awake, still
in touch with the physical world, and that something mighty
strange was happening — a departure of the mind from the
physical body!

The unusual feeling of leaving the body is exciting and
alarming. This, combined with the realistic imagery of the
bedroom is enough to account for the conviction of many OBE
experients’ that “it was too real to be a dream.” Dreams, too,
can be astonishingly real, especially if you are attending to
their realness. Usually, we pass through our dreams without
thinking much about them, and upon awakening remember little of
them. Hence, they seem “unreal.” But waking life is also like
that — our memory for a typical, mundane day is flat and lacking
in detail. It is only the novel, exciting, or frightening events
that leave vivid impressions. If we stop what we are doing, we
can look around and say, “Yes, this world looks solid and real.”
But, if you look back and try to recall, for instance, brushing
your teeth this morning, your memory is likely to be vague and
not very life-like. Contrast this to a past event that excited or
alarmed you, which is likely to seem much more “real” in
retrospect.

Lucid dreamers often comment to themselves in dreams, “I
know this is a dream, but it all seems so incredibly real!” All
this goes to show that the feeling that an event is real does not
mean that it is happening in the physical world that we all share
when we are awake. This is not to deny that that inner
experiences are real, in that they have deeply profound effects
on our lives. However, as lucid dreaming so amply demonstrates,
we can learn to distinguish between our personal dreams and
events in the consensus dream we call physical reality. When we
do, we find that what we thought was one thing — the waking
world — is actually another — a dream.

Proof that some or even most OBEs are dreams is not enough
to allow us to say that a genuine OBE is impossible. However, in
the interests of lucidity, if you have an OBE, why not test to
see if the OBE-world passes the reality test? Is the room you are
in the one you are actually sleeping in? If you have left your
body, where is it? Do things change when you are not looking at
them (or when you are)? Can you read something twice and have it
remain the same on both readings? If any of your questions and
investigations leave you doubting that you are in the physical
world, is it not logical to believe you are dreaming?

Another point to consider is that a dream doesn’t always
have to happen in REM sleep. Most do, but there are probably
quite a few other conditions in which people can lose touch with
sensory experience and enter a mental world. Some such states
that we know of are hypnotic trance, anesthesia, and sensory
isolation. OBEs have been reported from these states (Nash et
al., 1984; Olson, 1988). Thus, the argument that an OBE cannot be
a dream because the experient wasn’t asleep doesn’t hold water.

THE “IN-THE-BODY” EXPERIENCE

To end this discussion of the origins of the OBE, an event
considered unbelievable by many and metaphysical by others, let’s
consider the state of affairs that is considered normal: the “in-
the-body” experience. What does it mean to be in a body? Saying
that one is in a body implies that the self is an object with
definite borders capable of being contained by the boundaries of
another object — the physical body. However, we do not have any
evidence that the self is such a concrete thing. What we think of
as “out-of-body” in an OBE is the experience of the self. This
experience of being “in” a body is normally based on perceptual
input from the senses of both the world external to the body and
the processes within the body. These give us a sense of
localization of the self in space. However, it is the body, and
its sense organs, that occupy a specific locus, not the self. The
self is not the body or the brain. If we think that the self is a
product of brain function, even this does not make it reasonable
to state that the self is in the brain — is the meaning
contained in these words in this page? It may not make any sense
on an objective level to say that the self is anywhere. Rather,
the self is where it feels itself to be. Its location is purely
subjective and derived from input from the sensory organs.

Putting aside the question of the essential nature of the
self, perception is undeniably a phenomenon tied to brain
function. So, when we find ourselves experiencing a world that
seems much like the one we are used to perceiving with our usual
equipment — eyes, ears, etc., all things linked to our brains,
it would be logical to assume that it is our usual brain creating
the experience. And, if we were to really leave our bodies –
severing all connection with them — it would be illogical to
assume that we would see the world in the same way. Therefore,
although no amount of contradictory evidence can rule out the
possibility of a real “out of body experience,” in which an
individual exists in some form entirely independent of the body,
it is highly unlikely that such a form would utilize perceptual
systems identical to those of the physical human form.

Spiritual teachings tell us that we have a reality beyond
that of this world. The OBE may not be, as it is easily
interpreted, a literal separation of the soul from the crude
physical body, but it is an indication of the vastness of the
potential that lies wholly within our minds. The worlds we create
in dreams and OBEs are as real as this one, and yet hold
infinitely more variety. How much more exhilarating to be “out-
of-body” in a world where the only limit is the imagination than
to be in the physical world in a powerless body of ether! Freed
of the constraints imposed by physical life, expanded by
awareness that limits can be transcended, who knows what we could
be, or become?

REFERENCES

Blackmore, S. (1983). Beyond the body. London: Granada.

Blackmore, S. (1984). A postal survey of OBEs and other experiences.
Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, 52: 227-244.

Blackmore, S. (1988). A theory of lucid dreams and OBEs. In
Gackenbach, J. and LaBerge, S., (Eds.), Conscious Mind, Sleeping
Brain, p. 373-387. New York: Plenum.

Everett, H. C. (1963). Sleep paralysis in medical students.
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Eysenck, M. W. (1982). Attention and arousal. Berlin:
Springer-Verlag.

Faraday, A. (1976). The dream game. Harmondsworth, England:
Penguin.

Fox, O., quoted in Muldoon, S. & Carrington, H. (1974). The
Projection of the Astral Body, p. 35. New York: Samuel Weiser.
Gabbard, G. O. and Twemlow, S. W. (1984). With the eyes of
the mind. New York: Praeger.

Glicksohn, J. (1989). The structure of subjective experience:
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Green, C. E. (1968). Out-of-the-body experiences. London:
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Honegger, B. (1979). Correspondence. Parapsychology Review,
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Irwin, H. J. (1981a). Some psychological dimensions of the
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LaBerge, S. (1986). Lucid dreaming. New York: Ballantine.

LaBerge, S. Levitan, L., Brylowski, A., and Dement. W. C.
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LaBerge, S. unpublished data

LaBerge, S., Levitan, L., and Dement, W.C. (1986). Lucid
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McKellar, P. (1957). Imagination and thinking. New York:
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Nash, M. R., Lynn, S. J., and Stanley, S. M. (1984). The
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Olson, M. (1988). The incidence of out-of-body experiences in
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Poynton, J. C. (1975). Results of an out-of-the-body survey.
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Salley, R. D. (1982). REM sleep phenomena during out-of-body
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Zubeck, J.P., Pushkar, D., Sansom, W. & Gowing, J. (1961).
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