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The Purpose of Literary Dreams: The Advantages of a Literary Device
Bachelor Thesis English Language and Culture
Utrecht University
Iris Nuijten
3580539
1st Reader: Syreetha Domen
2nd Reader: Simon Cook
Wednesday 10 April 2013
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Table of Contents
I. Introduction .............................................................................................................3
II. The Manners in which Dreams Function in Literature ............................................4
III. Dreams in Updike’s Couples: Supporting the Narration and Foregrounding
Significant Themes ............................................................................................9
IV. “Raptured Flora” ....................................................................................................15
V. Annotation .............................................................................................................20
VI. Works Cited ...........................................................................................................22
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I. Introduction
The concept of dreams is incorporated into society in multiple manners. Frequently, dreams
are what people refer to when they discuss the ideals they desire to accomplish in their lives.
The other type of dreams, “experiential, unconscious dreams” (Katz qtd. in Matlaw 578), are
a fascinating phenomenon as they have the ability to arouse fear or to evoke positive feelings.
Everybody has dreams; either the night-time phenomenon or the ideal sort which they pursue
throughout life. Many artists claim their works varying from paintings, film, music, and
poetry, to literature have been inspired by dreams (Sylvia Somerville). Within the field of
literature, some classical novels appear to stem from their author’s dreams: Mary Shelley’s
Frankenstein, Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,
Stephen King’s Misery and the contemporary popular Twillight series by Stephenie Meyer
(Vintage Books and Anchor Books). The ambitious dream is a familiar theme in literature.
The experiential dream is less ordinary in fiction, nevertheless, its use as a literary device can
benefit novels.
The manners in which dreams function in literature will be further researched in this
paper. Despite dreams being a fascinating phenomenon, research on the narratorial use of
dreams in literature is scarce. First, the general functions of dream sequences will be
examined after which the examination focuses on a specific novel, namely Couples by John
Updike, a novel which centres on ten couples living in the New England town Tarbox. Under
a disguise of daily occupations, almost all the couples are, discretely, mixed up in affairs with
one another until protagonist Piet Hanema crosses their carefully drawn and silently accepted
boundary by starting an affair with pregnant, and married, newcomer Foxy Whitman. Updike
employs Piet’s dreams to highlight significant themes.
Subsequently, a fictional short story will follow containing one or more dreams. In this
chapter, the findings of the research will be reflected by means of a combination of dream
purposes in literature. As a final addition, an annotation will be included in which will be
explained how the results of the examination of dream sequences in literature have been
reflected in the creative chapter.
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II. The Manners in which Dreams function in Literature
Janet Burroway states: “[m]uch of the pleasure of reading comes from the egotistical sense
that we are clever enough to understand” (23). Deciphering literature, filling in the blanks that
authors leave open, is indeed what makes reading pleasurable. Readers should be left with
enough enigmas and mysteries unsolved so they can form their own interpretation. The motto
“Show, don’t tell” (Burroway 22) refers to this practice of figuring out the meaning of
literature. By using specific literary techniques authors are able to create such blanks in their
works that allows the readers to give literature their own interpretation. The use of dreams in
literature is one of these techniques. Habitually, the dreams which characters in novels
experience are not meant to be interpreted literally and should rather be construed as
metaphors. As Helena Poch and Daniel Walden point out in their research, dreams may
appear self-explanatory, however, frequently their meaning lies beyond the superficial
depiction they present (115-116): “Strangely enough, even dreams which seem so
straightforward that they have no need for interpretation (for example a dream where a son
obtains biblical knowledge of his mother) actually are symbolic of something else (in this
case the son’s future will be filled with wisdom)” (Fromm qtd. in Poch et Walden 116). In
their research on Aharon Appelfeld’s novel Badenheim 1939, Poch and Walden point out the
true meaning of female character Trude’s dreams. Trude repeatedly dreams of her daughter
Helena being beaten by her husband Leopold (Poch et Walden 116). Even though Trude’s
dreams in fact predict the future, they also have an emblematic denotation; Leopold’s
mistreatment of Helena is symbolic of the “anger and aggression of militant gentiles
(represented by Leopold) against Jews (represented by Helena)” (Poch et Walden 116).
Evidently, Helena functions as a symbol for Jews since she comes from the Jewish town
Badenheim. Throughout Appelfeld’s novel, all the Jews in Badenheim are slowly being
isolated from the rest of the world by German troops without truly noticing this. This process
indirectly happens to Helena as well: Leopold basically keeps Helena away from her parents
and the outside world. Symbolism is thus significant in interpreting literary dreams. Their
functions can be split up in several categories.
Possibly the most renowned function of the dream in literature is its use as a
prediction. Predictive dreams can be divided into two internal categories. The first is when
dreams are simply employed to foreshadow future events in a narrative by means of
symbolism and the second type of dreams frequently feature divine beings. This is closely
connected to plot development and is often meant to create dramatic irony and build suspense.
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In Couples, Updike employs this type of dream on a number of occasions. Additionally,
prophetic dreams feature a deity or superior entity and oftentimes are connected to religion.
These dreams are a traditional phenomenon and have existed since very early human history.
There is an abundance of classical examples available: “[t]he Bible, for example, depicts
dreams clearly inspired by God or by angels; dreams explicitly prophetic; dreams that warn,
order, or guide” (Manfred Weidhorn 14). An example of a God-inspired dream can be found
in the Book of Genesis in which Joseph, son of Jacob, has two different dreams; in the first,
Joseph dreams of himself and his brothers collecting bundles of grains after which the bundles
of his brothers assemble themselves around his bundle and bow down to it, and in the second
dream, the sun, the moon, and eleven stars, which symbolise both of Joseph’s parents and his
brothers, make obeisance to him (Weidhorn 46). Joseph’s brothers are very envious of him
and devise a plan to dispose of Joseph; they sell him as a slave to a caravan of Ishmaelite
merchants. Ironically, however, their plan to get rid of Joseph is what eventually sets into
motion the outcome of his dreams; Joseph becomes the second most powerful man in Egypt,
next to pharaoh Potiphar. In addition to dreams inspired by God, there are also dreams sent by
gods meant to convey a message to the dreamer; these are called theogonic dreams (J.
Stephen Russel 23). Russel refers to the ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh in which
the goddess Ninsun sends her son Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, a dream. In his dream,
Gilgamesh witnesses a meteor falling on earth. He attempts to haul it up, without succes.
Then many people start to gather around the meteor and rejoice its appearance. They help
Gilgamesh lift it and subsequently Gilgamesh carries the meteor to his mother who announces
the object to be Gilgamesh’s brother. Ninsun thus sent Gilgamesh this particular dream to
warn him of the coming of Enkidu, “a monstrous alter ego with whom Gilgamesh must do
battle before the two “brothers” become friends and set out on their adventures together”
(Russell 23). These examples then show how the dream as a literary device is rooted in
literature.
The dream “also seems frequently to be used as a unifying device, tying together
seemingly unrelated material by means of the sort of association and transformation typical of
dreams” (Constance B. Hieatt 11). By including a dream in the novel “the author chooses to
convey something that would lose its desired effectiveness if directly stated, simply
represented, or incorporated into the main narrative stream” (Carol Schreier Rupprecht and
Kelly Bulkley 2). Thus, the inclusion of the dream is a creative manoeuvre; instead of stating
explicitly what the author desires the readers to understand, he/she presents them with a
dream which must be deciphered to understand the relationship between certain events in the
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narrative. In this way, the dream can help build suspense in a novel. A good example of this is
the dream protagonist Niki of Kobo Abe’s The Woman in the Dunes has (Poch and Walden
117). The story deals with Niki’s journey to the dunes in his hopes to find a yet unknown
insect. He ends up being trapped within a village of which the residents coerce him into
helping a widow shovel and collect sand which threatens to bury the village. Initially, Niki
attempts to escape only to eventually enter an amorous relationship with the widow and
silently accepts his fate. In the course of the story, Niki has an enigmatic, incongruous, and
distressing dream in which he “rides on a chopstick, plays a card game, receives a card that
turns into a letter and is cut by the letter” (Poch and Walden 117). This dream brims with
symbolism with emphasis on the letter. Only observant readers of Abe’s novel will recall a
different letter which is only briefly mentioned in the first chapter of the book; a letter to a
woman Niki had a relationship with before he became a captive in the sand dunes. Niki’s
nightmare is caused by his new relationship with the widow and is a reminder of his previous
life for both Niki as well as the readers. Additionally, the aforementioned predictive dreams
operate in a unifying manner as well; the dreams’ content refers to certain happenings which
will take place later on in the narrative.
Next to this, dreams frequently serve as a pretext to incorporate didactic material into
the novel (Hieatt 11). The dream is then utilised to portray the moral of the story; it is a lesson
which the readers are supposed to extract from the narrative or something which the
characters must be taught. Steven F. Kruger touches upon the didactic role which dream
sequences play within literature. In his studies of dream visions in the Middle Ages, Kruger
discusses more classical examples of dreams in literature and examines their didactic
purposes. He hereby focuses on two literary works: Cicero’s poem “Dream of Scipio” and
Walafrid Strabo’s poem “The Vision of Wettini”. In the first poem, the content of the dream
is a direct lesson towards the character, Roman general Scipio Aemilianus, who has the
dream. He has arrived in Africa and has been conversing elaborately with Masinissa, an
African prince, after which Scipio settles down for the night (Cicero). He starts to dream and
in his dream his father, Paulus, and the famous Roman general Scipio Africanus appear before
him and predict the future to Scipio and relate to him that he will be a very powerful man
(Cicero). Moreover, both Africanus as well as Paulus give Scipio guidance by directly telling
him how he should conduct himself once he has become consul; Africanus advises Scipio to
“[b]e of good courage and banish fear […]”(Cicero) and informs him that “as Dictator you
must reform the constitution” (Cicero); Paulus tells Scipio to “follow justice and natural
affection” (Cicero). As Kruger points out, the “Dream of Scipio” is “[d]idactic, claiming the
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status of revelation, the Somnium instructs its dreamer (and reader) on how to live in
preparation for the life to come” (125). The second poem Kruger discusses, “The Vision of
Wettini” was written by Strabo, a Frankish monk, approximately in the first half of the ninth
century. As Susanne Hafner states “Walafrid relates his teacher’s vision of the underworld,
where he observes several sinners in purgatory” (8). “The Vision of Wettini” is filled with
many poetic depictions of paradise, purgatory, and hell and deals with the journey of a
visionary through all three of these places. Therefore, critics have repeatedly argued that the
poem has been some sort of predecessor of Dante’s The Divine Comedy. In “The Vision of
Wettini” the protagonist, Wettini, has a dream portraying several scenes that occur within
paradise, purgatory, and hell, and afterwards an angel visits Wettini to clarify its meaning:
“[t]he angel makes explicit the significance of the dream's content, and the speaker of the
poem often further expounds this teaching. The dream's didactic purpose is clear: Wetti is to
return to the waking world and instruct his fellow monks on their need for reform,” (Kruger
126).
Furthermore, the dream sequence in literature is a stylistic tool employed for the
appearance of the dead (Goldberg 21). The functions which such dreams of the dead serve in
literature are similar to those in real life. Deirdre Barrett conducted much research in the
discipline of dreams and discovered four basic purposes the deceased personas in dreams
fulfil: portraying the state of death, attempting to alter the circumstances in which they died,
presenting their loved ones with the opportunity to bid them farewell, or conveying certain
messages to the living (107). Especially this last feature is common in literature. Cicero’s The
Dream of Scipio features two deceased personas, Africanus and Paulus, who emerge before
him to deliver their analogous message to become a great ruler. Emily Brontë’s Wuthering
Heights includes a dream with a ghost as well. Shortly after his arrival in Yorkshire, Mr.
Lockwood, the first narrator of the story and tenant of Mr. Heathcliff’s property Trushcross
Grange, pays a dissatisfying visit to his landlord at Wuthering Heights and is forced to stay
the night because of heavy snowfall. At night, after reading several journals written by the
female protagonist of Wuthering Heights, Catherine, Mr. Lockwood is troubled by several
nightmares, one of which features a young Catherine, still a child. In the nightmare, Mr.
Lockwood is annoyed by a branch which insistently taps on his window. He sets out to
remove it: “I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching an arm out to
seize the importunate branch: instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little,
ice-cold hand!” (Brontë 29). Mr. Lockwood struggles to release himself as the ghostly child
begs him to let her enter the manor. She moans: “[...] ‘twenty years, I’ve been a waif for
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twenty years!’” (Brontë 30). Waif is the definition of “a female outlaw, and the suggestion
immediately arises that [...] Cathy has been condemned to wander the earth, homeless and
friendless, an outcast from society, for some heinous crime committed during her lifetime,”
(Edgar F. Shannon 99). The sin Catherine has committed is her “[...] failure to fulfil her
mission; which was clearly, to marry Heathcliff,” (Richard Chase qtd. in Shannon 100).
Catherine herself becomes aware of her fault not long before she passes away when thinking
about her burial in Gimmerton churchyard (Shannon 102); in a state of agitation she imagines
herself promising Heathcliff: “I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep,
and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!”
(Brontë 148). Evidently, the ghost of Catherine appears in Mr. Lockwood’s dream because
she is not at peace with the circumstances in which she died; Catherine has never been able to
fulfil her destiny of being with her soul mate Heathcliff. Moreover, her appearance is an
indirect announcement to the living that she will continue to roam the earth as long as
Heathcliff is still alive and she has to wander the afterlife solitarily.
Ultimately, the several purposes of dreams in literature can be categorised in a number
of general functions. To begin with, they recurrently serve as visions of the future. This
category can be divided into dreams that foreshadow coming events or godlike dreams which
are frequently linked to religion. Furthermore, dreams unify certain events that take place in
the novel, sometimes, hereby completing the plotline of the story. Moreover, dreams in
literature are used to include instructive matter. The characters of the story and/or the readers
are supposed to learn something from the dream. Finally, literary dreams are a way to have
dead characters reappear in the narrative. Such dreams featuring the deceased are often a
clever manner to build suspense.
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III. Dreams in Updike’s Couples: Supporting the Narration and Foregrounding
Significant Themes
Additionally, an analysis of the dream sequences in Updike’s novel Couples is
included to point out in which manners dreams in literature can be utilised to strengthen the
narrative and themes of the novel. Updike included a significant amount of dreams in his
novel. By his extensive use of the dream, Updike makes the dream a structural part of his
narrative. When published in 1968, Updike’s novel stirred up quite some controversy: it was
the first novel ever to depict sex graphically; its emphasis is on adulterous relationships within
a community of friends. The group of friends central to the novel have all come to Tarbox in
an attempt to escape the fast-paced life in the municipal big cities, “[t]hey are the people who
wanted to get away from the staleness of the Old America and the vulgarity of the new; who
wanted to live beautifully in beautiful surroundings; to raise intelligent children in renovated
houses in absolutely authentic rural centers,” (Wilfrid Sheed). In their attempt to begin new,
sophisticated lives, they have ended up in a cycle of fending off boredom which has a
deteriorating effect on their characters. The tediousness of their lives makes the characters
seek solace in things such as partying instead of taking good care children, drinking
excessively and having affairs, hobbies which do more harm than good. Even though the
sense of a community largely prevails throughout the novel, it is the male protagonist Piet
Hanema whose transgressions the reader mostly follows. Despite elaborate descriptions of
some personas throughout the novel, they remain flat characters: detestable people only
recognisable by their mannerisms since Updike never discloses their inner thoughts. The
reader quickly discovers Piet’s incessant unfaithfulness to his spouse Angela; he cheats on her
with a multitude of other married women: Georgene Thorne, Bea Guerin, and the woman he
eventually ends up with, Foxy Whitman. Despite that almost all characters are unfaithful to
their partners Piet is the sole person who is condemned for his infidelity by the others.
Consequently, he functions as a scapegoat. His affair with Foxy leads to an abortion and, after
Foxy’s confession to her husband Ken whom reveals the affair publicly, consequently Piet
and Angela’s divorce follows. Without their scapegoat, the Tarbox community falls apart and
the couples meet each other less frequently and do not enjoy each other’s company as much
as they did before. After a miserable and solitary period in which Piet attempts to drown his
sorrows with alcohol, he and Foxy meet again and they rekindle the flame. Couples ends in an
unexpected and odd semi-happy ending when Piet and Foxy marry each other, move towards
the Boston-Worchester area, and Tarbox is flooded with new inhabitants.
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As Burroway states, fiction writers are always attempting not only to say what they
mean, but to mean even more than they say (23), and considering the large amount of dreams
Updike included - the novel contains as much as seven dreams, either casually mentioned or
elaborately described - using this technique was deliberate. In fact, Updike has included a
subtle reference to Sigmund Freud’s renowned novel The Interpretation of Dreams (230): Piet
experiences an inner torment about his affair with Foxy; on the one hand he feels guilty for
being unfaithful towards Angela, on the other hand, he is filled with the vivacious and blissful
feelings of an infatuation. In his struggle with these sensations he attempts to start an
argument with Angela. Angela, however, is preoccupied with reading Freud’s book: “But,
enclosed in the alternative world [...], she did not respond. The book was an old college text,
little appreciated at the time, stained by girlish annotations and translucent blots of the oil she
and her roommates used under their sunlamp, the Modern Library edition of The
Interpretation of dreams,” (Updike 230). Clearly, Updike intentionally incorporated dreams
into his novel; the reader is supposed to pay attention to them for they emphasise the
importance of certain happenings in the narrative. Determining the dreams’ implications is of
importance to understand the significant themes in the novel and to expose correlations
between the dreams and the fictional reality.
The first dream of significance appears in the opening chapter. Updike uses this dream
to foreground and foreshadow two affiliated themes that recur in the narrative, namely
religion and Piet’s role among the group of friends. Within their community, solely Piet and
Foxy are religious. Piet’s religious nature resurfaces frequently in the novel. For instance,
when he attends church, teaches his daughters the ways of God, or whenever he is pondering
on either small or big dilemmas in life itself. Even when he is having sex with Foxy, Piet
thinks of his lovemaking in religious terms: “To eat another is sacred” (Updike 482). Piet is
rather aware of his religiousness since his friends and Angela frequently remind him of their
total disbelief in any deity whatsoever. In the very first chapter, Updike mirrors religion in
Piet’s dream when Piet remembers a dream he had: “He dreamed last night he was an old
minister making calls. Walking in the country, he crossed a superhighway and waited a long
time on the median strip. Waiting, he looked down into a rural valley where small houses
smoked from their chimneys. He must make his calls there” (17). Updike lets Piet be an
elderly priest who is compelled to perform his duty in his dream to emphasise the burden
weighing down upon him. He is a minister to reflect the responsibility Piet feels as a religious
man to pass on his faith to his daughters. Piet’s elderliness parallels with the unconscious
burden the women add to his life. Additionally, Updike prefigures the role which Piet has in
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the group of friends. Piet functions slightly as a scapegoat for whom the other characters
surprisingly feel sympathy. The necessity of Piet’s ministerial visits is a premonition of the
entanglement Piet is in when he enters into numerous affairs with different women. The
obligated calls are the women who obliquely add to Piet’s unhappiness. Though nobody ever
really addresses Piet’s adultery publicly, nearly all members of the group have their
suspicions about his unfaithfulness. The women and almost all of the men, do not blame Piet
for his indiscretions, however, regard him as a victim manipulated by some of the women.
Updike’s intention by depicting Piet as the pitiable character, and even allowing the other
characters to sympathise with him, is a ploy to create compassion among readers. Piet’s
dream ends in his arrest by a policeman on a motorcycle after crossing the rest of the road.
Unexpectedly, Piet experiences relief at this moment. It refers to the moment in the narrative
when Freddy Thorne, Piet’s self-proclaimed adversary is the indirect cause of Foxy’s
confession after which Piet and Angela separate. In the end, after his unhappy marriage and
dissatisfying affairs, Piet’s solitariness and his new beginning are, in truth, a consolation to
him. Consequently, this dream foreshadows the future events in Couples as well as themes of
religiousness and Piet’s position within the community of friends.
Additionally, Piet’s second important dream is a reflection of his feelings and also a
prophetic dream which Updike uses to emphasise the theme of death. Death is something
several characters struggle with or which happens in either a direct or indirect manner to
them. For instance, Piet’s youngest daughter Nancy has an obsession with death and it is no
coincidence that Piet is roused from his dream by Nancy asking why the Kennedy baby was
born dead (Updike 237). In addition, Piet himself often recalls the death of his parents who
died in a car accident together. Moreover, John Ong, who is part of the group of friends, dies
of cancer, and even Foxy has an encounter with death when she undergoes an abortion. The
theme is reflected in Piet’s dream when Piet dreams his brother, Joop, is dead, while, in fact,
Joop is still alive. In his dream, Piet experiences terrible guilt for not staying with his brother
Joop and helping him out in the greenhouse in which he works. The dreamt guilt mirrors
Piet’s idea he should have done something to save his parents and the responsibility he now
feels towards his brother. Joop, nonetheless, is not the only person Piet dreams about. He also
dreams about Foxy, however, not in a physical manner: “Yet also Foxy was in the dream,
though not visibly; her presence […] a living fragility continually threatened,” (Updike 237).
The vulnerability Updike mentions is a symbol for both Piet and Foxy, and their relationship.
Updike means to have Piet be a fragile character by having other characters in the novel refer
to Piet as an innocent individual plagued by the influence of other lecherous and pernicious
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characters. Foxy is portrayed as a delicate persona in Piet’s dream since Updike desires to
highlight her incorruptible character. Foxy, eventually, is the only person who dares to admit
her fault. Ironically, both personas prove to be more conscientious than any of the other
characters because they dare unfold the truth and act upon it, separating from their partners
and taking time for themselves, while the other couples remain rooted in their adulterous,
deceitful, and tedious cycle. Moreover, their relationship is under constant pressure of
disclosure. Thus, Updike employs Piet’s second dream both as a reflection of Piet’s feelings
and to predict what effect Foxy’s integrity has on the outcome of the narrative namely the
disclosure of the relationship.
Furthermore, Piet’s second to last dream appears rather cliché: Piet dreams he is in an
aeroplane crash (Updike 284-285). However, certain elements of the dream are an intricate
manner of prefiguring and unifying specific elements in the story. For instance, Updike
anticipates that Piet and Foxy accidentally almost reveal their own affair when, at a party,
they end up in the bathroom together while Angela awaits for Foxy to be done and Bea
Guerin witnesses Piet’s escape through the window: “They had evaded a storm. Then the
plane rocked and jerked in the bumpy air currents [...]. The plane streamed straight down. The
liquid in Piet’s inner ears surged, froze. He knew there could be no pulling from this dive
[...],” (285). Thus, the aeroplane crash in Piet’s dream invokes a disconcerting feeling of
impending doom. Additionally, Updike adds a concealed hint to the outcome of the story,
which also refers back to a point much earlier in the novel: “Such ingenious fragility utterly
betrayed,” (285). The future reference is binary; the utter betrayal alludes to Foxy’s
confession and to the slightly devastating effect which the separations of the Hanema’s and
the Whitman’s have on the circle of friends. The allusion backwards is to the “fragility
continually threatened,” (Updike 237) that acts as a symbol for the endangered relationship of
Piet and Foxy which is finally unveiled. By incorporating this dream, Updike in fact already
makes his narrative cycle complete by revealing Piet’s awareness of the impending doom
which awaits his relationship with Foxy.
Moreover, Piet’s last dreams are a comingling of vague dreams and two dreams that
reflect the phase of life Piet has entered and his accompanying feelings. Updike concludes
Piet’s story by means of these last dreams. After Piet and Angela’s separation, Piet moves into
an apartment of his own. Updike incorporates vague dreams which are a blur of scattered
childhood memories, John Ong’s funeral, and construction failures, since Piet is a building
contractor. He hereby desires to illustrate Piet’s befuddled state of mind and the uncertainty
he feels about his future. The vague dreams are a blur of scattered childhood memories, John
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Ong’s funeral, and construction failures, since Piet is a building contractor. The childhood
memories symbolise Piet’s wish to go back in time and illustrate the importance of family to
Piet. Throughout the novel, it appears that Piet repetitively muses about his deceased parents
and how important it is to him that Angela and he stay together in consideration of their
daughters. Thus, Piet appears to be a genuine family man. John Ong’s funeral is a symbol of
the disrupting of the group of friends, which has been central to Updike’s novel. Throughout
the novel, the complete lack of honesty amongst the cheating couples invokes the
dissatisfying feeling that life in Tarbox will forever go on to be a blend of dishonesty and
unhappiness. When honesty finally prevails, the group of friends falls apart and has trouble
finding a new balance. The construction failures are referring to Piet’s unsuccessful marriage
and business relation. These two elements of his life that Piet has worked on throughout his
life have slowly come to decay and eventually dissolve. The first orderly dream features two
characters whom never existed or who were of little significance to Piet’s life; the son he
always desired and his Dutch grandmother, with whom he had a poor relationship and who
died when Piet was still a child. They represent the family Piet never had and the family he
yearns to regain. The characters are even more proof of Piet’s disappointment about the
currents of his life and his surreal desire to start over and accomplish different goals, raising a
son and perhaps joining his brother in the greenhouse company. Any feelings of unfairness
and commiseration with respect to Piet’s daughters are cleverly erased by the depiction of the
son: “a child who was both Nancy and Ruth, yet male” (476). The second uniform dream
dovetails with the preceding one. “[B]y an effort of his will” (Updike 477), Piet is attempting
to alter the pattern of the stars, however, his endeavour is pointless as the constellations
remain “blazing and inflexible,” (Updike 477). This dream functions as an elucidation to the
previous dream: despite Piet’s regrets, he is incapable of rearranging the happenings in his
life. Moreover, the stars have reappeared throughout the novel as well. At one point in the
novel, the couples play a game called Wonderful in which everyone must name the most
wonderful thing they can think of. It is Angela who mentions the stars and explains: “They’re
so fixed. So above it all” (Updike 268). Once again, Updike alludes to a prior moment in the
narrative by means of a dream to emphasise the fixity of the stars, and thereby, life itself.
Ultimately, Updike utilises dreams in his novel Couples for several purposes. First and
foremost, he includes explicit or implicit allusions to the themes which are of most
significance within the story so as to highlight these. Such themes are: religion, the position
Piet holds within the group of friends, death, and family. Furthermore, Updike strengthens his
narrative by linking dreams to certain moments in the story and having them either foretell
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events to come or alluding back to previous happenings. The third manner in which dreams
operate in Couples is to reflect Piet’s inner state of mind and to expose the various feelings he
experiences throughout the novel. Though at a superficial level Piet and Foxy may seem
careless, selfish individuals not considerate towards other characters’ feelings, Updike makes
a clear statement by means of the dreams he incorporates that, in fact, these two characters are
the ones that deserve the readers’ sympathy and admiration for their integrity. He especially
protects his male protagonist carefully by providing explanations for his immoral actions in a
way that makes it seem that Piet is the injured party with whom the reader should sympathise
and that it is Piet who suffers, who, next to Foxy, is the only character true to himself and
others.
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IV. The Creative Chapter
“Raptured Flora”
It’s been a long day. Nothing truly bad, but just a bit wearisome.
Alex’s car glides through the street, chasing back the sunbeams falling on its bright,
yellow paintwork. It’s an early autumn evening: the setting sun sheds its orange-shaded light
making Alex squint. The scent floats into the old Mustang; leaves and mud, but also the
warmth of fading sunlight. A unique scent that provokes lazy images of people lounging on
tickling fields of grass. Alex loves it. For people passing by, he probably looks relaxed: his
arm on the rolled-down car window, one hand lazily placed upon the wheel. In truth, his
slouched position is mostly due to a day full of nagging, posh customers telling him how to do
his job. Educated snobs who don’t know shit about cars. Frustration has built a throbbing
bundle of aches in his head. The warm air on his skin is the first step to relaxation. Summer is
prolonging her stay in the city which leaves her at battle with autumn. Children dressed in no
more than T-shirts and shorts are playing tag in a field of fading-green grass partly covered in
red, orange and yellow leaves. Some pink flowers hide themselves in the corners of the field.
Alex decides he will sit with Lucy in their small garden tonight. It will please her. She
had worked hard all summer to make it look like a real garden, trying to tame the miniature
jungle they had found when they moved in about a year ago. Back then, it had been a heap of
weed-choked yellow grass, dark-green creepers extending their stubborn branches all over the
place and bundles of thistles and stinging-nettles.
“It’s absolutely horrifying, isn’t it?” Lucy had asked him. She had been gazing at the
green chaos.
“It’s a bit messy.”
The corners of her mouth and one eyebrow had tipped up as she had eyed him with
amusement.
“And I bet you’d describe the interior of your beloved Mustang as ‘a bit messy’ too,
huh?”
Alex pushes the door open and throws his key down on the cupboard just a little too
loud; the clang resounds through the little hallway and softly echoes against bare walls. He
looks down. No frumpish, scattered boots. Lucy probably isn’t home yet.
“Babe?”
16
His deep voice makes the same echo as the keys. Lucy is probably still getting
groceries, calmly picking out the best fruit she can find. Maybe she stopped by Annie for a
chat. Alex decides he’ll have a small bite, to ease his growling stomach for a while and take a
shower. Hopefully, she’ll get home soon. His own cooking skills lack just about everything
that makes food tasty or even digestible.
He rummages through the cupboards and catches a glimpse of a biscuit tin tucked
under a tea towel. He smiles. Sweet Lucy. Like a tea towel is going to stop him. Whatever is
in there is meant for an evening with the girls Alex knows she’s got planned. There will be no
harm in stealing just one though. She’ll forgive him for his little crime.
Precious little cakes decorated with blue marzipan ribbons, purple sugar-coated
butterflies, soft white frosting and violet sprinkles. Why do cupcakes always have to be so
damn frivolous? He’d feel absolutely ridiculous eating one of those. The bread bin then. To
his relief, Lucy has left some undecorated cupcakes there. He picks up the first in sight and
involuntarily brings the cupcake to his nose to sniff it. He chuckles because of himself. A few
nights ago, he dreamt about a bad cupcake which he had almost eaten. He had woken up with
a bad feeling in his stomach, like the nausea of irrational fear. He had grabbed Lucy and
pulled her into his embrace. Apart from a high-pitched muffled sound, Lucy hadn’t shown
any sign of disturbance.
Alex glances at the clock. Almost six already. He’ll give Lucy a call and if she is still
on her way he can shower first. The phone rings a few times and he imagines Lucy’s cell
going off with bombastic, reverberating piano sounds and Matthew Bellamy’s falsetto voice.
Despite the fact that they have three albums more recent, Lucy holds on to this old single by
Muse as her ringtone; Apocalypse Please. She always says that classics are called classics for
a reason. He remembers his dumb open-mouth face discovering that a girl obsessed by
baking, gardening and collecting ribbons was such a big fan of dramatic rock music such as
Muse’s. His amazement had made her grin. Lucy loves to surprise, whether intentionally or
not. Keeps life interesting, she would say.
She doesn’t pick up. Alex sighs. Her phone is probably buried deep in her bag,
covered by dozens of little things she carries with her.
Alex stares at himself in the mirror and tilts his head. The scar on his temple runs
down into his hairline, hides itself under the thick brown hair. It is swollen because of the hot
steam in the bathroom. With his fingertips he follows the mark; a thick red line, pink on the
sides, of smooth skin. It still hurts a little sometimes. When he gets hot, the skin around the
17
scar seems to pull at it. It is sensitive now because he stayed in the shower too long. Alex took
some time scrubbing the oil and dirt off his arms. At the garage, keeping clean is not one of
his priorities. He is always too absorbed in his work to pay attention to keeping clean.
Fumbling around for his favourite green shirt he accidentally tips over a box. Neatly
folded suits tumble down onto the bottom of the closet. Smooth grey, dark navy blue, velvet
black. Matching ties in deep red and his shiny black shoes. Classy, decent-looking suits. He
hates them. Lucy wants to save them, says they might come in handy, but it only reminds him
of college. After the car accident he doesn’t like to be reminded of his now past intellect. The
whole bullshit bright-future story tires him. He likes what he does now. He doesn’t abhor his
brain anymore.
He picks up the soft suits and stuffs them back in the box then slides it underneath
some of Lucy’s almost-forgotten shoe boxes in the corner of the closet. He finds the green
shirt on a coat hanger in the back. Black socks and blue jeans and he’s done. Back in the
living room he tries Lucy’s cell again but still no reply. His eyebrows knit. Lucy is probably
staying late with a patient again. It’s half past six now. After turning on the television, Alex
flops down on the couch. He flips through the channels. Horrifying news bits, easy-as-shit
word games with overly enthusiastic hosts, and old wildlife documentaries. There’s not much
on at this time so he changes to a music channel. Summery music with a Spanish guitar, soft
drums and a sweet woman’s voice singing a bubbly melody. He closes his eyes and rests his
head on the cool fabric of the couch. He takes deep breaths and with each of them a bit of the
day’s dreariness seems to seep from his body. Drowsiness replaces it bit by bit until Alex is
sound asleep.
Alex’s eyes move rapidly underneath his eyelids. His mouth is slightly opened and
he’s breathing heavily. He doesn’t hear the television anymore; he is now somewhere else.
Rooted deep in his dream. He’s seated at a table loaded with raisins. Behind him, there’s an
enormous fountain pen, looking over his shoulder. Alex must count all the raisins correctly.
They should be in units of sixty. His skin is hot; he’s sweating and the scar on his face
scourges him. With unsteady hands he forms groups of the little dead grapes, then roughly
scatters them again. The clusters aren’t equal. His mouth is a tight line and he gazes intently at
the table.
“It’s not working,” he mumbles to himself. His hands begin to tremble; he makes them
into fists. Drops of sweat bead on his upper lip and slowly make their way down his jawbone.
18
Suddenly Lucy is there. She’s dressed more elegantly than usually. No cut up jeans
and the funny yellow T-shirt she wears so often. She wears a floating summer dress in a
colour Alex can’t distinguish, because of the sheer fabric. It’s a light colour, something like
cream or a powdery soft yellow.
“Baby,” Alex mutters. She turns her head. Not until that moment had he noticed the
paleness of her skin, she almost seems to shimmer. Her eyes are fixed on him but do not seem
to see him.
“Baby, come here,” says Alex. She seems to walk towards him. She almost seems to
hover. He reaches out for the slender body but is unable to touch it. He must unclench his fists
first. He looks at his hands. His fingers aren’t clenched, they’re not there anymore. Lucy is
now right in front of him. The table and pen have disappeared and they are in a field of tall
yellow grass. Late summer grass exposed to too much sunlight and too little rain. He reaches
out for her again, gets close this time but his hands touch nothing. He keeps on grabbing for
Lucy but his arms seem to flail into nowhere. He’s unable to touch her. But he can see her.
She’s right there.
An upbeat rock song that starts in on the television rips him out of sleep. Alex jumps
quickly to his feet. Panting, he tries to gather himself, drinks in the fresh air. He had felt so
breathless in his dream, his body needs to realise he’s awake.
His waterproof watch tells him he has been asleep for twenty minutes. Dreams have
that effect: they grab you and pull you in deeper, even beyond the realms of sleep, where you
are aware that what you’re experiencing isn’t real, it’s not happening, but it damn sure feels
that way. Alex sits down. Rubs his face roughly with his hands to fend off the fatigue. He’ll
do something to keep himself busy. He’ll take out the trash.
After gathering the bin bags, Alex walks out the back door and steps into the cool air.
Twilight has crept in. The vagrant scent of sweet flowers drifts languidly in the paradise
garden. It has an instant soothing effect. Alex’s shoulders drop a little and he closes his eyes
so he can smell the sweetness better. Instantly opens them again. Another scent has mingled
with that of the flora. It is vaguely sweet, -or perhaps more sour. Alex has trouble identifying
it. It’s not so much foul. It’s a pungent smell. Alex steps forward. The flowery smell weakens.
The other strengthens. Another few steps. It’s acrid and rusty. It comes from the little shed.
Has Lucy thrown something away without covering it? It’s more than a scent now. It’s a taste.
19
A sickening taste thickening his tongue. Making it too thick to swallow. He’s at the shed now.
Opens the door.
Lucy. The last rays of decaying sunlight illuminate the pale pearliness of her skin. The
last bit of Lucy’s colourfulness is the rusty red that seeps from her lips onto the grey tiles.
20
V. Annotation
The creative chapter will now be considered in view of the general functions of
dreams in literature as discussed in the first chapter and the manners in which Updike has
employed this literary feature. In an attempt to divert from Updike’s use of dreams, which is
too stylistic, the dreams in “Raptured Flora” have been given a sense of absurdity. The dreams
in Couples seem entirely constructed to complete the narrative. Since everything about these
dreams is so functional they appear to be more a narratorial device than creative input. This
makes them less credible. There is often an element of absurdity about dreams that people
have which they are unable to explain. As Sigmund Freud points out: “[t]here are no dreams
which are absolutely reasonable which do not contain some incoherence, some absurdity”
(79). Therefore, some elements of absurdity have been added to the dreams in the short story
to make them more realistic. Realistic fiction has an “intended effect on the reader: [it] is
written to give the effect that it represents life and the social world as it seems to the common
reader, evoking the sense that its characters might in fact exist, and that such things might
well happen” (Abrams and Harpham 303).Such elements would be the enormous fountain
pen, the sudden change of location, and the fact that Alex suddenly loses his fingers. Due to
reasons of limitation, the short story merely contains two dreams; a dream quickly related to
the reader by means of Alex’s memory and the dream Alex in fact experiences during the
short story. The function of the first dream is limited since it is merely meant to foreshadow.
The second dream serves three different functions simultaneously: it is a predictive dream
with a deceased persona which is meant to unify several events in the short story. The manner
in which this persona unifies happenings is by referring back to an earlier occurrence in the
narrative, the first dream, and by forecasting the ending of the story, Lucy’s death. Both
dreams are related to Updike’s use of the dream to foreground certain themes.
The first dream is one which Alex only briefly ponders and which he had some time
earlier about a bad cupcake. This dream is foreshadowing in that the cupcake symbolises
Lucy who is very fond of baking. The cupcake goes bad as to predict that something horrible
is going to happen to Lucy. Alex has the dream some days before Lucy’s death actually takes
place. This predictive dream can thus be categorised under the main functions literary dreams
may serve. Additionally, it is meant to foreground Lucy’s love of baking which recurs at
several times. Alex’s second dream is partly meant to confer with this earlier dream. Minor
references to baking have been included in the dreams as well as in the main narrative. In
Alex’s dream, the adjectives used to describe the colour of Lucy’s dress, creamy and
21
powdery, can be associated with baking ingredients. Moreover, the items Alex must count are
raisins, a popular ingredient in baking recipes. In the reality of the short story, the biscuit tin
and cupcakes refer to Lucy’s hobby.
The second dream is more elaborately described. The purpose of the dream is
threefold; it foreshadows, features a dead character which symbolises the outcome of the
story, and connects elements of the story. It is another dream foretelling Lucy’s fate. At first,
Alex feels relieved to see Lucy appear but he quickly realises something is wrong with her.
She is dressed differently than how she normally does and barely performs any action. The
lack of emotion and action on Lucy’s behalf are intentional to indicate a lifelessness. Her
wavy dress and Alex’s inability to touch her ascribe ghostlike qualities to Lucy. Without Alex
truly realising it, Lucy is dead. The dream also refers back to two different moments in the
narrative. The first is the dream of the bad cupcake. The second is the moment in which Alex
was searching for his favourite green shirt. Alex’s search for his shirt and the accidental
discovery of his old suits has been reflected in the dream by Alex being surprised at Lucy not
wearing her usual kind of outfit but the elegant dress. Furthermore, the dream highlights the
recurring theme of education. At the start of his dream, Alex feels agitated since he is being
monitored while having to perform a task which is difficult for him. In the dream, the fountain
pen, the counting of the raisins, and the acting up of his scar inflicted upon him by the car
accident are all meant to reflect the significance of education. Before the accident, Alex was a
promising college student. The accident, however, has affected his brain in such a way that
Alex has lost his memory of the last few years before the accident in which he was enrolled in
university, consequently also any memory of his education. The corollary of the brain damage
is that for Alex studying has become a struggle, hence the difficulty he has counting the
raisins in his dream. Ultimately, the dream predicts Lucy’s death by having her appear as a
phantom, combining the purpose of foretelling, the appearance of the dead, unifying
happenings in the story. Additionally, it emphasises the topic of schooling.
To conclude, the short story and the two dreams that it features have been constructed
to reflect several general functions of dreams in literature: forecasting events, a dead character
who symbolises a certain element of the narrative, and the connecting of seemingly unrelated
events within the narration. Furthermore, the dreams in “Raptured Flora” have been thus
constructed that they resemble the manner in which Updike employs dreams in his novel to
highlight specific themes. Additionally, the dreams in “Raptured Flora” have been portrayed
more realistically than the ones in Couples.
22
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Somerville, Sylvia. “Great Ideas that Came in Dreams.” 2010. Web.
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