Back
to House Wodening Home Page
The Maker of Dreams
The modern heathen making even a cursory examination of the elder sources is apt to learn one thing: our forebears placed great importance on the meaning of dreams. In the Eddic lay Baldrs Draumar (literally "Baldr's dreams") it is the nightmares that Baldr is experiencing which alerts the Ése (ON Æsir) that Baldr may be in danger. In Víga-Glúms Saga it is through a dream that Fréa (ON Freyr) makes his enmity to Glúm known. Throughout the elder sources dreams play a major role, so much that we can conclude that the elder heathen placed great importance upon their meaning
As the god of wisdom and a god who played a role in shaping man, including man's soul, Wóden (ON Óðinn) would naturally seem to have a great deal to do with dreams. Indeed, one of his many names is Sváfnir, a name which can be interpreted both as "He Who Lulls to Sleep" or "He Who Lulls into Dreams." Though the evidence for Wóden's link to dreams is scant, we can perhaps conclude from this name that Wóden is "the maker of dreams," a divine Sandman who does not use sand, but lulls human beings into dreams of a night nonetheless. As the "Master of Wód" and the god of such things as inspiration and poetry, it would only make sense if Wóden was the "Master of Dreams" as well.
Unfortunately, we almost never see Wóden manifesting himself
in dreams in any of the elder sources. This is curious, as other gods do.
As noted above, Fréa appeared to Glúm in a dream. Similarly,
in Flóamanna Saga, Þunor (ON Þórr)
appeared to a Christian convert in a dream and told him that his journey
would be a rough one unless the Christian turned to him. Yet Wóden
maintains a curious silence with regards to dreams. When Wóden does
appear to men it is in person, though often in disguise. As a tall one
eyed old man, Wóden taught Harald Wartooth the military formation
called svínfylking or "swine formation." It was Wóden
in the form of a ferryman who took the body of the slain Sinfjótli
away. And for all the times Wóden appears in person, albeit often
in disguise, to assist a hero or claim a hero for Valhöll, not once
do we see Wóden appearing in a dream. Of course, Wóden is
by far the wisest and wiliest of the gods, and just because he does not
make cameo appearances in dreams does not mean he is not the god who ultimately
directs them.
Wódenish Dreams in Elder Sources
Even though Wóden is curiously absent in most dreams portrayed in the elder sources, some of the dreams of which the scholars and saga writers wrote apparently bore his touch. Dreams featuring entities linked to Wóden appear in some of sagas. Similarly, other sagas feature dreams experienced by Wóden's men. In both cases, it would seem likely that Wóden was the "wizard behind the screen," orchestrating the content of these dreams.
Among Wóden's most prized possessions is the eight legged grey (sometimes also said to be white) horse called Sleipnir. Though we are never explicitly told this, Sleipnir appears to have the ability to carry his rider past the gates of Hel and into the world of the dead. This can be seen in the Prose Edda, where Hermóðr rides Sleipnir to the underworld in order to beg Hel to free Baldr from her grasp. Sleipnir is also the swiftest of all horses and capable of galloping through the air and over the sea. That among Wóden's most important possessions should be a horse ought to come as no surprise. Among several cultures around the world horses are linked to death and the underworld. Among the Germanic peoples it was not unusual to bury horses with the dead--hundreds can be found in graves throughout Scandinavia alone. That the grey Sleipnir had eight legs makes him rather unusual for a horse, but at the same time a rather fitting symbol of death. In Gods and Myths of Northern Europe (pp. 142-143), H. R. Ellis Davidson interprets Sleipnir's eight legs as symbolising the pallbearers (each with two legs for a total of eight) who carry the dead man to his funeral. As Sleipnir is a grey, it seems to make sense that grey horses would have a stronger link to death than horses of other colours. And as god of death, horses would naturally be sacred to Wóden.
As a result, dreams as well as apparitions of grey horses are often believed to portend death. In Gísla Saga Súrssonar a woman mounted upon a grey horse appears to Gísli in a dream and calls him "home (that is, the afterlife)." In Sturlunga Saga, Guðrún Gjúdóttir returned from the dead riding on a grey horse, in a dream in which she foretold an impending disaster. In both dreams (although the latter took place in 1255, well after the Conversion of Iceland), we might wish to see the hand of Wóden. After all, in both dreams it is upon a grey horse that an individual upon a grey horse foretells death. Considering the link between horses and death, hence the link between horses and Wóden, and the fact that Wóden's own horse is grey, it seems only reasonable to assume that Wóden played some role in each of these dreams.
Just as horses are linked to Wóden, so too are the class of goddess known as Wælcyrigen (ON Valkyrjur). Indeed, the Wælcyrigen are often called the "handmaidens of Wóden." It is their job to choose the battle slain in any battle and perhaps deliver them to Valhöll as well. And though today they are often romanticised as beautiful maidens who wait upon the battle slain n Valhöll, they have a more grisly side as well. The Wælcyrigen make an impressive appearance in a dream in Njáls Saga. This particular vision appeared shortly before the Battle of Clontarf, fought at Dublin in 1014 CE. In it a group of women wove upon a loom made of men's entrails and weighted with severed heads. They filled in a background of grey spears with a woof of red. As they wove, the women sang a poem called the Daraðarljóð or "Spear Lay" in which they identified themselves as Wælcyrigen and described their duty to choose the slain. This dream would appear to be a rather Wódenish one. First, we have the appearance of the Wælcyrigen in the dream, who are a bit more savage than the stereotypical serving maid of Valhöll so often portrayed today. As stated above, the Wælcyrigen served Wóden in choosing the battle slain to go to Valhöll. Second, the weapon portrayed upon the web which they are weaving is the spear, a weapon particularly sacred to Wóden. Among Wóden's possessions is numbered the spear Gungnir, one of many prizes forged by the dwarves. Sacrifices to Wóden appear to have been hanged and stabbed with a spear, apparently in imitation of his own sacrifice upon the World Tree to obtain the runes. Third, the subject matter of Daraðarljóð is not simply battle, but the mass death which occurs in battle. In the poem the Wælcyrigen describe the air as being red with men's blood. All of these factors point to this dream having been inspired by Wóden, if not orchestrated by him as well.
Other dreams in the elder sources could also be considered Wódenish, in that the individuals who experience them are either followers of Wóden or linked to him in some way. An example of this can be found in the Poetic Edda's "Brot of Sigurðarkviðu." There Brynhild told of a dream in which her husband Gunnar rode, "fastened by fetters," into an enemy army. This dream foresaw Gunnar's death in Atli's court, told in Atlakviða and other sources of the Sigurðr mythos. Of course, Brynhild was no mere woman. According to the Sigurðr myths she was a Wælcyrige (ON Valkyrja) who awarded victory to the wrong man and was so punished by being placed atop a mountain, where only the bravest of men could awaken her. Brynhild, then, has a very strong link to Wóden as one of his former "handmaidens" and her dream could probably be considered Wódenish. This becomes more likely when one considers the subject matter of the dream--the death of a king in the court of his enemies. The dream's subject matter would then appear to be suitably Wódenish as well.
Many scholars have put forth the theory that the Víga-Glúm of Víga-Glúms Saga was a Wóden's man. The family of Glúm's father were worshippers of Fréa, yet there is an incident in which Glúm visits his maternal grandfather, Vígfuss, who gives him a spear, a cloak, and a sword. He tells him that as long as he keeps these items he would maintain his power. And it is only after he gives away these items that his enemies conquer him. Of course, the spear and the cloak are items linked quite strongly to Wóden, the cloaked god who hanged upon the Tree wounded by a spear. From this it would appear that Glúm had converted to the cult of Wóden.; indeed, afterwards he seems to behave more as a follower of Wóden than follower of Fréa (it must be stressed that this is not what placed Glúm on bad terms with Fréa, but rather killing a man on ground holy to the god--a mistake no wise Wóden's man should have made). We are told that when Vígfuss died, his hamingja (either his luck or his fetch), seen in a dream as a gigantic woman, went to Iceland to join Glúm. This dream, portraying the transferral of a forebear's luck or fetch (or both, for that matter) to his descendant, could possibly be linked to Wóden. After all, prior to his death, Vígfuss gave Glúm symbols of Wóden--the spear and the cloak--upon which Glúm's power depended. The transferral of Vígfuss's luck or fetch to Glúm could be considered the final part of a Wódenish legacy from grandfather to grandson. The dream, then, could possibly be considered Wódenish in nature.
Of course, it is impossible to know for certain whether any of
the dreams cited above originated from Wóden himself or if it was
a simple case of unconscious thoughts of the One-Eyed God manifesting themselves
in the form of dreams. Either way, all of these dreams held
some significance for the dreamers and in many cases they involve symbols
which are undeniably linked to the god.
Creative Dreaming
In all of the above cases, the dreams each individual had simply occurred spontaneously without any act of will on the part of the individual. It would then seem that the average heathen would be at the mercy of random happenstance with regards to receiving knowledge from dreams. Fortunately, this does not appear to have been the case, as shown by both folklore regarding dreams and the elder sources.
For instance, an old superstition holds that dreams experienced on holidays or before important events (such as weddings or battles) held more significance than dreams experienced at other times. An example of this from the dreams cited above is the dream of the Wælcyrigen experienced before the Battle of Clontarf, which proved significant for those involved in the battle. Similarly, dreams had on the nights of holidays have traditionally been regarded as being more prophetic than other dreams. An old superstition is that the dreams one has each night of Yule may forecast what is to come in each of the twelve months of the next year.
While important events and holidays could bring significant dreams, however, the elder heathen were not entirely at the mercy of the time of year in inducing such dreams. Various sorts of dreams could also be induced through the use of various herbs as well. Among the most famous examples of this is mugwort, which when used to stuff a pillow could open the mind to particularly prophetic dreams. Many modern heathen have experimented with the use of galdors and runestaves to induce particular sorts of dreams as well. Though none of the elder sources mention this practice as having occurred in ancient times, considering the extremely varied uses to which galdors and runestaves were put in ancient times there is no particular reason to assume that this particular usage is not a valid one.
Another example of inducing a particular sort of dream can be found in Flateyjarbók. There a man wishing to learn poetry slept upon the mound of a dead poet. In a dream the dead man within the mound appeared to him and taught him a poetic verse. Afterwards the man could compose poetry as well as any skald.
This incident demonstrates two factors which might be important in obtaining the sort of dreams one wants. First, the place where one sleeps and dreams could be significant in the sort of dreams one has. Obviously, the man wishing to become a poet had a greater chance of learning poetry sleeping on the mound of a dead poet than he would have had sleeping in his bed at home. Of course, this points to a belief common to many peoples, among them the ancient Greeks, that sleeping in holy places, such as temples, could induce particularly prophetic dreams. Sleeping on a burial mound would seem to be a variation on this theme. Second, the dead can bring knowledge to the living by way of dreams. It is significant that that the man wanting to learn poetry did not learn it through some dream symbols or something of the like, but rather was taught it by the dead poet buried within the mound. Third, it would appear that to some degree the individual could by sheer force of will determine the content of his dreams. After all, the man who slept on the dead poet's grave wished to learn poetry. It would seem reasonable to assume then that even as he bedded down atop the dead poet's burial mound that he would have been focusing on his desire to learn poetry in order to make clear his intention of dreaming such.
This instance of sleeping on a dead poet's mound to obtain knowledge should probably not be considered the same as the various instances of summoning the dead for knowledge (such as those which appear in Völuspá or Gróagaldr) or instances of sitting out to commune with the wights. The former, though similar to the incident of dreaming on a dead poet's mound in Flateyjarbók, differs in that in these incidents the individual (such as Svípdagr in Gróagaldr ), usually recited a galdor with which to call forth the dead person and the the individual is apparently awake or, at least, entranced throughout the entire act of communing with the dead. The man desiring to learn poetry apparently did not sing a galdor prior to the act of sleeping on the mound and was quite obviously asleep and dreaming when he communed with the dead poet. The latter practice of communing with wights appears to have been linked with the act of shapeshifting. In these incidents, whether the person was considered to be asleep or entranced, the individual appears to have sent his soul forth to join others or to communicate with such wights as trolls. It is just this practice which is condemned in the Potentiale Ecclesiarum Germaniæ (Corrector), a penitential written in the 10th or `11th century. The individual in Flateyjarbók apparently did not send his soul forth to meet with the dead, but rather the dead poet appeared in a dream which the individual had. Though similar in some respects to the practice of shapeshifting to commune with "spirits," it is also fundamentally different.
We know from the elder sources that dreams sometimes held great significance. We know that many of these dreams may have been touched by Wóden himself or at least inspired by him on an unconscious level. We also know that the individual could influence the sorts of dreams he might have on a given night. Dreams experienced on a holy tide or before an important night were known to have more significance than dreams experienced at other times. Similarly, the individual could influence dreams through the use of herbs, galdor, runestaves, or even the choice of where he was to sleep. The modern heathen can then to some degree determine the content of his dreams, their "theme" if you will, and obtain the knowledge he needs from them. Considering the importance that the elder heathen placed upon dreams, there is no reason for us not to do so.
© 1998 Eric Wódening
Back
to House Wodening Home Page