How an artist is giving ancient Korean tradition of dream exchange a modern twist

On a warm night in sixth century Korea, young Bohui had a bizarre dream in which she was standing atop the So-ak mountain, overlooking Kyongju, the capital of Silla. In her dream, she urinated and the stream of water trickled down the rocks and flooded Kyongju. When she narrated the dream to her younger sister Munhui the following morning, her sister expressed her desire to buy the dream.

“What will I get in return?” asked Bohui.

Munhui offered her an embroidered silk skirt, and Bohui happily agreed.

Years later, Munhui married Kim Chun-chu, who later became King Taejong Muyeol of Silla and united the three kingdoms of Korea (Silla, Koguryŏ and Paekche). She bore him six sons, flooding the kingdom with her descendants and thus fulfilling the dream she bought from her sister.

This legend mentioned in the 12th century official chronicle of Korean history, titled ‘Samguk Sagi’ or ‘The History of Three Kingdoms’, is the oldest evidence about the Korean tradition of exchanging dreams. It was this tradition that led London-based Korean contemporary multidisciplinary artist Bongsu Park to explore an auction of dreams. 

The idea struck her when she met a Korean friend at a London cafe in 2019. She told her friend about the dream she had the previous night in which she was cherishing a “tomato-sized” blueberry. After listening to the dream, the friend said she wanted to buy it. When Park asked her why, she said she was trying to get pregnant and hoped the dream would help her have a daughter.

Many Koreans believe that eating a fruit in their dreams means that you could give birth to a daughter, explained Park. Flowers, jewellery and small fish could also mean the same. On the other hand, dreaming of a dragon, tiger, sun or rain could mean that the person could conceive a boy. 

Dream transactions are believed to work only if both parties are happy and willing, said Park. “I was familiar with dream sharing through K-dramas and period films but never had a first-hand encounter with the concept previously,” she told THE WEEK. “So I agreed; she paid for our coffee and cake instead.”

A year later, Park received a message from her friend: she had given birth to a baby girl. Though she does not believe in the supernatural power of dreams, Park became curious about the Korean tradition and decided to learn more about it.

Dreams are traditionally shared with friends or family. Some believe dreams contain omen that could bring them luck. If the listener thinks a dream would be beneficial to them, they might ask the owner to sell it to them. In exchange, the buyer would pay them money, or barter it for a valuable item or service. Sometimes, if the dreamer wishes to keep the luck for themselves, they may choose to keep the dream a secret, as telling it is seen as diminishing its power.

There is evidence of a formal sale contract involving a dream transaction in the Jangseogak Archives kept by the Academy of Korean Studies. The contract says that a man named Park Hae-myeong dreamt of a dragon and a tiger appearing together on the 23rd day of the second lunar month in 1900. The opening phrase of the contract revealed that he wanted to sell the dream as he was in “urgent need of money”. Yi Byeong-yu, a scholar from Oksan village who was the 13th generation descendant of Confucian scholar Yi Eon-jeok, offered 1,000 nyang, equivalent to around Rs1.34 crore today, for the dream. Hae-myeong agreed to the deal and transferred the dream to Byeong-yu on April 3, 1900, as per the contract. Though the dream is an immaterial object, the contract is based on mutual trust between both the parties. 

Park’s idea of auctioning dreams is also rooted in this idea. Just like auctioning physical arts like paintings and sculptures, she hopes to encourage connoisseurs to see the value in the transaction of dreams. When she tried to explain it to her husband, a Briton, he laughed and said, “You Koreans are crazy.”

Park then worked on the idea of auctioning dreams and invited people to submit their dreams on her website, but with one request: “Please contribute your dream with care. It is a transfer of energy in good faith, an act of friendly generosity.”

People often ask her how they can confirm if the dream they buy is real and not just an invented story. To that, she says dream-sharing is rooted in trust and goodwill. By formalising such an informal tradition, she intends to honour the experience of the dreamer and spread awareness about the tradition.

Dreams that are up for auction are displayed on scrolls. Each scroll is a unique edition, handmade by Park. Dreams containing certain keywords with desirable elements assume a subjective value. For example, a pig alludes to the arrival of wealth in Korean culture. Snakes could mean you are going to be successful in life and career. A house on fire is interpreted as your troubles burning away while a flood in your neighbourhood predicts that good fortunes will pour in. But these could have negative meanings in another culture. In the same way, one person’s nightmare could be perceived as something more positive by another individual.

On the other hand, dreams with bad omens would not have any takers. For example, losing teeth is interpreted as losing someone close to you. Muddy waters could mean problems and sickness. Going down a mountain or losing one’s shoes allude to loss of status or job.

A limited number of potential buyers take part in the auction physically and are given a numbered bidding paddle. Online bidders can write down the price they want to bid in the chatbox. The auction is kicked off by setting a starting price. Those who successfully bid on a dream online are sent a link for payment. The dream scroll is then delivered to the mailing address. The first auction event, Dreamers’ Gathering, was organised at Post Territory Ujeongguk in Seoul with the support of Seoul Foundation for Arts and Culture in June 2021. Another one in London was held at Gallery Rosenfeld with the backing of The Tavistock Institute in November 2021.

Park recounted that the auctions in Seoul and London were received differently by the participants. The one in Seoul saw vigorous bidding, with people competing for desirable keywords. But in London, participants looked at the aesthetic quality more than the symbolic meaning and most of the dreams were sold within a single bidding.

Auctioning is not the only way Park wants to convey the power of dreams. She combines sculpture, installation, video and performance to give a glimpse into the world of dreams. In 2019, she teamed up with choreographer and dancer Jinyeob Cha to come up with the Dream Ritual, a mystical performance inspired by the Korean tradition of dream transaction. In the performance at The Coronet Theatre in London, Cha played Munhui’s character who becomes a shaman after buying a dream and travels to the collective unconscious where she encounters the dreams of others.

So where do the profits from the dream auction go? The proceeds from the Seoul event went to Miral Welfare Foundation, which supports social inclusion of persons with disabilities, while the London auction supported Entelechy Arts, which works with people of all ages, abilities and backgrounds to produce art.

So the next time you wake up from a vivid dream, pause before shrugging it off. Who knows! Someone out there might just be waiting to buy your dream.