Hi. My name is Adam. And I’m a dreamscroller.
And even if you don’t know it, you probably are, too.
You’ve probably heard of doomscrolling, which I talked about in a Plugged In blog a couple of years ago. Doomscrolling, of course, means compulsively scrolling through doom-and-gloom stories on the internet. Think of it as digital rubbernecking at the litany of tragedy that turns up in stories online virtually every day.
Dreamscrolling is pretty much the opposite. It involves aspirationally gazing at online images of things we want to buy. But like doomscrolling, there’s a habitual, compulsive element to it.
In fact, a study from the retirement company Empower earlier this year found that the average person engages in this sort of digital wish-indulgence a whopping 2.5 hours daily. That time translates to a fairly staggering 36 days annually. Wow.
Now, constantly fixating on stuff we don’t have but would someday like to might not seem like the healthiest way to spend our time or cultivate contentment. In fact, you might think it would contribute to discontentment with your current life circumstances.
Interestingly, Empower’s study found that 71% consider dreamscrolling “time well spent.” That’s because many of those folks report that looking at stuff they’d one day like to own motivates them to set goals to achieve their dreams. More than half (56%) say that dreamscrolling “makes it easier for them to be smart with their money.” A quarter say that this practice helps them to “better plan to achieve their financial goals.”
I’m a dreamscroller myself, as I admitted above. Over the years, I’ve fixed my heart’s attention on motorcycles, Land Cruisers, guitars, cameras, vintage comics, mountain bikes—all kinds of things, really. It’s not hard for me to believe the 2.5-hour daily figure either. It’s so easy to pick up my phone and just look at pictures of things I’ve marked as favorites on eBay or conduct searches to see if any of the stuff I’m fascinated with is available nearby. You know, just in case.
I don’t know that there’s anything necessarily problematic about imagining what we might like to own someday. That said, I don’t think this habit is quite as positive or helpful as the Empower company suggests. For me, at least, fixating on the stuff I want doesn’t help me grow in contentment with the good things I already own; instead, it makes me want more. It’s a tantalizing lie that I should be able to spot a mile away by now: If I only had X, my life would be better.
As for helping me be smart with my money? Eh, I’m skeptical of that, too. How many times have I impulsively clicked on something to buy it, fueled by the rationalization, “It’s only $25. It’s no big deal.” But if you stack enough of those decisions on top if each other, it’s no longer just a discretionary impulse buy. Rather, it’s a habitual compulsion to buy stuff that won’t, in the long run, make me (or anyone else, for that matter) truly happy.
In his book The Adventure of Living, Swiss physician and Christian counselor Paul Tournier wrote about the allure of stuff and the inevitable disappointment that comes with possessing it: “The thing one possesses always seems less attractive than the thing one has desired. The excitement of desire has lent magic coloring to the coveted object, but almost as soon as it has been obtained, it loses its brilliance. The adventure lay in the desire and hope, not in possession.”
That’s a terrific distillation of the relationship between longing and owning. Ultimately, we’re made for bigger stuff than just, well, stuff. Material things make all kinds of promises: comfort. Security. Status. Joy. But they can never deliver on those promises because we are made for something so much bigger than just owning those material things—no matter how shiny, rare or beautiful. In his paraphrase of Proverbs 11:28 in The Message, Eugene Peterson contrasts the way of life focused on things versus the way of life focused on our relationship with God: “A life devoted to things is a dead life, a stump; a God-shaped life is a flourishing tree.”
My point here is not to rain down shame on any of us who’ve ever picked up our phones to look at something we think would make us happy if we acquired it. But color me skeptical about whether this habit actually leads to productively channeling our emotional and relational energy into a meaningful outcome—or greater contentment with our lives. There’s always more to want, more to fix our gaze upon, more to fantasize about owning, as Tournier keenly observed.
At the end of the day, dreamscrolling is about something a lot bigger than a well-lit image of something that ignites our heart’s desire. It’s about hope—what we’re living for, what we’re seeking to fill that existential hole inside of all of us.
Back in 1997, way before anyone could dreamscroll, I wrote an article titled “Hope Reborn” for a magazine I worked for at the time called Discipleship Journal. In it, I said, “Apart from a hope that transcends the day-to-day things I dream about having, doing or being, there is no release from the endless cycle of wanting more. My hopes are a road map to my destiny. … Only as I place my hope in God am I freed from this compulsive pursuit of the next thing that I think will satisfy my soul.” I think that remains pretty true today.
What about you? Where do your dreamscrolling journeys take you online? What are you hoping for?
I think those questions are worth pondering, for all of us. Because the answers ultimately point each of us back to our heavenly Father, who promised, “You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand” (Psalm 16:11).
