Often, I find myself dreaming. Sometimes it is during the day, but more often it is at night. Sometimes the dreams are pleasant, while other times they are nightmarish. Some dreams seem significant with learning, yet others fade away as simply as they came. Then there are the dreams that are more heartfelt, they are the dreams of the future, for the present and what can be.
Moshe Rabbeinu dreamed of going into Eretz Yisrael with the understanding that it was a dream that would not be fulfilled, yet the dream remained his. Even without crossing the land himself, his impact entered: through his teachings, his drive, his clarity.
In Parashas Vayelech, we find Moshe on the 7th of Adar, his birthday and what would be his day of death. He gives over his dream to his disciple, Yehoshua, telling him: when you and the nation enter Eretz Yisrael, the Shechina will rest among you. With that, there will be the ability to access levels of prophecy and clarity. However, there is one caveat, a hard truth. Moshe shares that there will come a time when the people will forget about Hashem and Hashem will hide from them. It will be a time when clarity will fade, prophecy will cease and that Divine connection will seemingly slip away, as God’s presence will be hidden.
The Gemara1 teaches that even when God’s presence is hidden and we are left without prophecy, we still hold the power of dreams.
Rabbeinu Ezriel of Girona, one of the early mekubalim, explained that dreams are both wondrous and fragile. They carry flashes of truth mixed with nonsense, fragments that slip away the moment our eyes open. A dream is not a substitute for prophecy, yet it preserves the possibility of vision and suggestion of meaning.
Rav Tzadok of Lublin kept a notebook of his dreams next to his bed, eventually publishing them into a sefer Divrei chalomos. For Rav Tzadok, a dream was an entry point to his subconscious and in essence, to his soul.
Yet, when we look at our own lives, we sometimes expect more from our actions than a dream can hold. We act with the hope that a virtuous deed or incident will bring Mashiach. That one more act will bring the clarity that we seek and then peace will follow. Sadly, we forget, God is still hiding, even though we are trying our best.
At the same time, we find God in His hiding place. We win wars, we overcome enemies, and still it feels as if we glimpse Him only in a dream. We struggle to know what to hold and what to release, what to remember and what to forget.We envision God as both hidden and afar while also seeing him openly and clearly.
We just walked out of Rosh Hashanah, a day where we coronate Hashem as the Melech, the King of Kings. We are dreaming about our past and our future. Now, we are moving towards Yom Kippur and Sukkos where we are at home with the Shechina. It is in these auspicious days, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur where things can be hazy.
From within that haze we turn inward and we work to filter the imagination from reality, to ascertain who we really are deep inside. We try to listen to our soul only to be interrupted by a mob of thoughts. We try to hear God’s voice, yet find He is still hidden. The more we can clear our minds of clutter during the daytime, the clearer our dreams will be and thereby our connection to God will be clearer as well. As we increasingly keep God in our vision, in our conscience, the more we will see God even in our subconscious state.
Some people walk away from the Yamim Nora’im with a crystal-clear sense of who they want to be and how their year will unfold. Others step away with darkness, confusion, or a vague feeling of “not quite”, the feeling that something is off, it is still foggy.
The face of God feels hidden and the year still a blur. Yet this blur is not new; it is built into Creation itself. Life itself is fleeting, as we say in Unesanh Tokef: “k’chalom ya’uf—our lives are like a dream that flies away.” Even as a dream flies away, it still holds significance. It’s a window into hope, a fragile frame where blessing can enter.
Remember throughout, that while God may be hidden, hiddenness does not equal absence. In the dark, we are granted the power to dream and imagine better days. This helps us feel hope for the year ahead and to hold onto fleeting glimpses of the people we might yet become.
When faced with a decision, we often say, let me sleep on it. For many, dreams open an intuitive gateway. A dream acts like an inner advisor. Sometimes its guidance is clear and other times it is clouded and uncertain.
A dream does not give us certainty, but it does offer possibility. It invites us to choose which fragments to carry forward and to trust that even the most fragile vision can grow solid in time.
Chazal understood this and gave us a remarkable gift: during Birkas Kohanim we can pray for our dreams. The blessing of a Kohen carries the power to transform. It lifts a person from fear or constriction and allows a new kind of peace to enter.
In the tefillah, we say that if a dream was good, may it be strengthened and if a dream was harsh, may it be sweetened. May every dream be turned to blessing, like Yosef’s dreams that shaped the future.
At the moment the kohanim raise their hands to channel the beracha to us, we place our most fleeting and unstable visions into God’s hands. We ask Him to make them whole, to give us strength in this hiddenness, and ultimately to emerge from concealment and embrace us.
We must keep dreaming, for only those who dream, still believe that dreams come true.
May we merit the day when the light of the Shechina is revealed, when we understand that we were like dreamers as Moshe’s dream is fulfilled and we walk with him into a rebuilt Yerushalayim. In the meantime, may we keep dreaming.
Chagiga 5b
I will never say, “Let me sleep on it,” the same again. Thank you!!!