When Fiction Is More than Fictional

Several years ago, on the night before I became a department chair in higher ed, I dreamed about going aboard a starship. I was to be its new captain. In the airlock stood James Kirk (captain of the starship USS Enterprise in the Star Trek series), waiting to see me off. I asked if he had any last-minute advice.

“You’ll do fine,” he said with a smile. 

I spent the next four years ditching the heroic model of leadership—decisions from the top down and so forth—and implementing collaboration in the department. That went well. But I’m fond of Kirk because, as I tried to grow up in a very troubled home, he was a role model for trying to keep it together under stress. 

We all have fictional characters we like, or have liked (I outgrew Kirk a while ago), but when I first studied Jung in college and came across his emphasis on the reality of imaginal figures, a sense of affirmation entered me that has never left. Before Jung, I had thought of figures of fiction, myth, fantasy, and dream as unreal, made-up, or whimsical. Elijah, Salome, and other members of Jung’s inner cast of characters convinced him otherwise. 

“Philemon and other figures of my fantasies brought home to me the crucial insight that there are things in the psyche which I do not produce,” Jung wrote in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, “but which produce themselves and have their own life. Philemon represented a force which was not myself.” And the same with the other imaginal figures. 

This insight proved central not only for writing my own speculative fiction, including my Lamplight Trilogy, but for work on my second PhD, where I discussed imagination as a path of meaning, wisdom, and change. This path runs back to ancient Egypt and winds through many cultures. 

Jung got much guidance from imaginal beings. My Jung Platform course on his Black Books mentions his internal encounters with Sophia (“Soul”), who gave him profound spiritual insights along with day-to-day advice: Eat less at meals. Don’t smoke a morning pipe. Don’t dismiss things out of hand. Listen to your wife. 

In my course Your Life as Fiction for Jung Platform, we will explore the uses of fiction—especially science fiction—for individuation and change. We’ll also explore Joseph Campbell’s observation that mythology now comes to us through our own creativity. We will hear examples of how fictional characters speak—and how behind their faces and voices we discern the shapes and presences of the gods addressing us.

Here is something you can try right now: 

Take some time by yourself to close your eyes and internally summon a favorite fictional character. When they show up (it might take time, so be patient), ask them what you need to know just now that you haven’t consciously considered. Their response might be verbal, gestural, or something else. Thank them for it. When the active imagination ends, write down what they showed or told you and reflect on what it might mean. 

I did this a while back with Captain Benjamin Sisko, another Starfleet character. He showed up and looked silently at me. This puzzled me until I noticed that his red uniform shirt bore no insignia. And that was the message. After due reflection, I began to build up my professional activity outside my official career position in higher ed. (My classes at Jung Platform were one result.) 

Remember, you carry around within you an imaginal ecology of many presences. They  too have needs, opinions, and standpoints. Sometimes they seem to ignore us; but as James Hillman put it, “Something always has you in mind.” And someone in there is dreaming about you. 

In his course Your Life as Fiction, Craig Chlaquist invites us to reflect on the fictional dimensions of our life. Through lecture and discussion, we will learn to see fiction as a way to connect to wisdom and healing. To learn more and sign up click HERE.