sandman

Giving my dreams titles changed how I remember them

Giving my dreams titles changed how I remember them

A two-word habit I almost skipped turned out to be the most useful thing in my dream journal.

Jacob Lowe

Jacob Lowe · Founder of Sandman

Published on Apr 15th · 5 min read

For about six months my dream journal was a running wall of text. I'd wake up, type whatever I could catch, and move on. When I went back to look for anything later, I couldn't find it. I knew I'd had a weird dream about my old apartment in February, but scrolling through the entries I just kept seeing "I was in a room" and "I was outside somewhere" over and over. The entries themselves were fine. The problem was that every one of them looked the same from the outside.

Someone mentioned in a thread I was reading that they gave every dream a title. Two or three words, written after the entry, like a headline. I thought it sounded like busywork. I tried it anyway because I was tired of not being able to find anything.

It's been about two months and I keep being surprised by how much this tiny habit did. Not just for searching, which was the thing I wanted. Something about the act of naming the dream seems to change the dream itself in my head.

What the title actually does

When I sit down to write the title, I have to decide what the dream was about. Not what happened in it, what it was about. Those are different questions. A dream where I'm lost in a parking garage looking for my car isn't really "parking garage dream," it's "I can't find the thing I need." The parking garage is the set. The feeling of searching is the dream.

Forcing myself to make that call in two or three words turns out to be the hardest and most useful part. Sometimes I can't do it. I write the entry, stare at it, and realize I don't actually know what it was about. That's a signal too. When a dream resists a title, it usually means there's more in there than I noticed on the first pass.

The memory piece

I went looking for why this felt like it was doing something to my recall and fell into the psychology literature on verbal labeling. The short version: when you attach a word or phrase to a visual or sensory experience, you give your brain a second handle on it. Researchers call this dual coding. You've got the image system and the verbal system, and memories stored in both are stickier than memories stored in only one.

There are studies showing that naming a visual stimulus improves how well you remember it later, especially when you want to pull it back up on purpose. The effect isn't huge in any single study, and it's context-dependent, but it's real and it's been replicated across different age groups and designs. Giving something a name makes it easier to find again.

Dreams are almost pure image and feeling. No one narrates them for you. Writing down the events gives the verbal system a version, but it's usually a long messy version that reads like a transcript. A title compresses that transcript into a pointer. Weeks later, when I scroll past "Parking garage, looking," I can reconstruct the whole dream from those three words in a way I absolutely cannot from reading "I was in a parking garage and I was looking for my car and there was a woman."

It helps you see patterns faster

The other thing titles do, which I didn't expect, is make patterns obvious. When the entries are all long and shapeless, recurring themes hide inside the prose. When they're labeled, the repetition jumps off the page.

I realized last month that I had five dreams with titles like "Can't find it," "Looking for the bag," "Where is my phone," and "Missing something important" across about a six-week stretch. I hadn't picked up on the pattern at all while writing the entries. Each one felt like a separate dream with different details. Only the compressed versions showed me they were the same dream in different costumes.

This is also, unsurprisingly, exactly what lucid dreaming guides tell you to do. They call the recurring elements "dream signs." Titles aren't required for finding them, but they make the signs visible without having to re-read every entry in full.

Rules I landed on

After a couple weeks of trying different things, I settled on a few loose rules for myself. These aren't universal, they're just what worked for me.

Keep it short. Two to four words. If I need a sentence, it's not a title, it's a summary.

Name the feeling or the question, not the setting. "Lost in airport" is worse than "Missed the flight again" because the airport is the stage and the missed flight is the point. Feelings and actions travel. Locations don't.

Write the title after the entry, not before. If I try to title a dream before I've written it out, I end up shrinking the dream to fit the label I picked first. Doing it after lets the dream exist on its own before I compress it.

Don't polish. The title isn't for anyone else. "Weird dog thing" is a fine title if that's what the dream was. The only test is whether I'll recognize the dream when I see the title in a list six weeks from now.

Letting the app try first

In Sandman, the app generates a title for you after you finish writing an entry. The AI reads what you wrote and takes a shot at naming it. Sometimes it's good. Honestly, I change it more often than I keep it. The generated title tends to describe the setting or the plot, and like I said above, the best titles are about the feeling, not the scenery.

But even a wrong title is better than a blank space. When I swap it out, having something there makes it easier to think about what the real title should be. It's like a first draft I can react to. What I'd love is a way to write the title first, before the AI takes a pass at it. Sometimes I already know what the dream was about before I've finished writing it out, and I want to capture that instinct before it fades. I've mentioned it to the team.

What it didn't do

Titles didn't make my dreams more vivid. They didn't give me more of them. They didn't unlock anything dramatic. I still forget dreams. I still write entries that are half-formed and confusing.

What they did was cheap and specific. My journal stopped feeling like a wall and started feeling like a library. I can find the dream I'm thinking of. I can see which themes are hanging around. I can tell when a dream resists being named, which is its own kind of information.

Of all the small adjustments I've made to how I journal, adding titles took the least effort and gave back the most. If you're already writing down your dreams and you've never tried this, it's maybe thirty extra seconds per entry. I'd try it for two weeks and see what happens.

I was ready to write it off as a gimmick. It turned into the part of my journal I use most.

About the Author

Jacob Lowe

Jacob Lowe

Founder of Sandman

Jacob is a web developer with over a decade of experience in the field. His passion for coding and open-source technologies drives his desire to create and innovate. He believes that through technology, we have the power to increase access to new experiences and make a positive impact in the world. At the heart of his work lies a love for nature and the beauty of the natural world. He finds solace in the stillness of nature and the abstractions of code.

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