The friendly dream-sharing of Benjamin Rush and John Adams took an eerie prophetic turn.
This Fourth of July not only marks America’s 250th birthday. It also represents the 200th anniversary of the deaths of country’s second and third presidents, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, who passed away within five hours of each other on July 4, 1826.
More remarkable than the patriotic timing of their deaths is the fact that several years earlier Dr. Benjamin Rush, a mutual friend and signer of the Declaration of Independence, foresaw their simultaneous deaths in a dream.
Despite both serving as visionary leaders during the early, perilous days of the country, Adams and Jefferson became political enemies with drastically differing ideas about America’s future and how to get there. This caused distress for other revolutionary figures like Rush who feared their titanic disagreements would be too much for the fragile nation to endure.
Rush then took it upon himself in 1805 to engage with Adams, initiate a regular correspondence with him, and nudge him towards an eventual reconciliation with Jefferson. To accomplish this delicate diplomatic mission, Rush used a surprising method: he suggested to Adams that, instead of discussing common issues of the day in their letters, they share their dreams with each other.
As Joseph Ellis recounts in his Pulitzer-Prize winning book “Founding Brothers” (2002) “Adams leapt at the suggestion and declared himself prepared to match his old friend ‘dream for dream.’” (214).
There followed a remarkable exchange of dreams, interpretations, and insights both personal and political. Rush, a physician acting here as a kind of proto-psychoanalyst, slowly but surely brought Adams around to a more charitable and balanced view of Jefferson. Then, in 1809, Rush reported to Adams “his most amazing dream yet”:
“He dreamed that Adams had written a short letter to Jefferson, congratulating him on his recent retirement from public life. Jefferson had then responded to this magnanimous gesture with equivalent graciousness… Then the two philosopher-kings ‘sunk into the grave nearly at the same time, full of years and rich in the gratitude and praises of their country.’”
According to Ellis, Adams sent Rush an immediate and enthusiastic response: “‘A DREAM AGAIN! I have no other objection to your dream but that it is not history. It may be prophecy.’” (220)
At this time, Adams and Jefferson were still estranged; they did not resume their friendship until 1812. Rush’s dream thus pre-dates their eventual reconciliation by three years and their “nearly at the same time” deaths by seventeen years. To anticipate the former in a dream is impressive; to anticipate the latter in a dream is uncanny.
However, not even Rush’s evidently fertile prophetic imagination could foresee the poetic wonder of these two American giants entering the grave together on the Fourth of July, 1826, fifty years after the signing of the country’s founding document.
Other than adding a kind of mystical halo to early American history, what can we today learn from this remarkable process of dream-sharing among the Founding Fathers? For one thing, it sounds like they were having fun. The dreams they described to each other are as wild and bizarre as anyone else’s, and both Rush and Adams clearly enjoyed devoting their formidable mental powers to analyzing the curious meanings of each other’s oneiric experiences.
It also sounds like their dream-sharing provided them with a genuinely new understanding of recent political history and their roles in it. In addition to making valuable discoveries about their personal lives, Rush and Adams found their dreams led them to a deeper appreciation for the psycho-spiritual significance of the epic events they had helped to bring into being.
Perhaps of greatest relevance for our concerns two hundred years later, a practical outcome of their process was the healing of a bitter political division—E pluribus unum, with an assist from dreaming. This was Rush’s initial goal, and he achieved it spectacularly. Of course, the reconciliation didn’t happen overnight; it took several years of patient dream-sharing to get there. But once resumed, the Adams-Jefferson friendship remained strong and respectful till their symbolically appropriate end. On the bicentennial of their deaths, it seems fitting to highlight their admirable, dream-mediated willingness to set aside their political conflicts and find common ground in supporting and celebrating the highest ideals of our nation.
Note: this first appeared in Psychology Today, July 1, 2026.

The first time I attended an annual conference of the International Association for the Study of Dreams was in Santa Cruz in 1988. For the next several years (London in 1989, Chicago in 1990 (which I hosted), Charlottesville, Virginia in 1991) these conferences gave me an opportunity to learn more about the various ways in which people were exploring the origins, functions, and meanings of dreaming. One thing that struck me right away was that several people were looking at dreams not only as a source of personal insight but also as a source of insight into collective issues and concerns. Based on my own studies so far, this seemed like an important idea for dream researchers to develop further, even if it ran counter to the predominantly individualistic approach of most psychologists at that time.
The remaining exterior work at the Dream Library is down to roofing and painting. The focus will turn soon to the interior finish work of electrical, plumbing, and bookcase installation. Designing and installing a spiral staircase from the second floor to the third floor tower will be a special aesthetic and practical task. When the weather becomes less soggy, careful attention will go to perimeter landscaping, with the top priority of long-term fire safety–a vital concern for a building full of paper, built of wood, and surrounded by a forest.
A new article about dreaming and sports, co-authored by me and Michael Schredl, has just been accepted for publication by the journal
An outbreak of war and violent conflict is very likely to prompt a wave of nightmares of traumatic experiences, mournful losses, and threat simulations. This seems to be part of our internal crisis-response system when the external world descends into chaos and bloodshed, and our minds struggle to make sense of what is happening and find a way to survive the dangers.
This has been a rough season for fans of the Portland Trailblazers basketball team. The players are learning a new system from their rookie head coach, Chauncey Billups, in his first season in that role. Their star player, Damien Lillard, plays poorly (by his standards) at the outset, then is forced to undergo season-ending surgery. Three other players in the original rotation—Cody Zeller, Larry Nance Jr., and Nassir Little—go down with injuries. The General Manager of the team, Neil Olshey, is summarily fired after years of internal conflict, leaving the operations in the hands of neophyte executives and detached ownership. Just before the trade deadline they deal away three of their best remaining players—Norman Powell, Robert Covington, Jr., and the beloved C.J. McCollum. In return the Blazers receive some promising guys (Josh Hart, Justice Winslow, Keon Johnson), plus draft picks and salary cap flexibility (an aspect of the game I don’t understand and don’t want to understand). In the midst of it all, the team wins a few surprising games, but loses many more, often by huge margins. Now, with a season-ending injury to Jusuf Nurkic, the lone remainder from the starting line-up at the beginning of the season, the Blazers have been reduced to a fragment of what they hoped to become this year.