Free the Baby

The Dream: We're on a mission to rescue a baby. I get her to crawl to me from behind a chained apartment door. I take her and run, but the others in the rescue group are ambivalent. They want to rescue to girl, but they are also afraid of the hooligans on the other side. When I get outside to the car, I want to get in and flee, but the group stalls just long enough for an officious, sleazy-looking lawyer to threaten us. I persist in taking the child, and Clark tells me the lawyer has photographed us; so I know the hooligans will come after us and kill us if they can.

Interpretation: This baby resides with hooligans, so I can guess that she shares their traits. She is the small part of me that doesn't want to behave. I'm determined to save this spontaneous part of myself, and I have no respect for the lawyer, representing morally suspect rules and convention, who tries to intimidate me. He's officious and sleazy. There's freedom in this direction, even if I have to keep looking over my shoulder.

It's Hard to Change

The Dream: I'm to meet a group of women at  restaurant in a converted house. When I arrive I go into the restroom to change my clothes. In the process I misplace a sock, one of the thick wool socks I wear at night to keep my feet warm. I look everywhere, unable to find it. I am on my hands and knees going through what I think is a Lost and Found Box under the sink; it seems to have odd pieces: one glove, one sock, etc. A member of the establishment comes in and discovers me. I feel uncomfortable attempting to explain what I'm doing,and she says it's not Lost and Found, but a gift for the Father.

I give up on finding my sock. I haven't been able to change my clothes, and I think I might have more success if I go somewhere else. I leave the bathroom and find a small bedroom down the hall, go in, shut the door, and try to change. In short order someone appears, a young woman with dark short curly hair, slightly over-weight, round faced. It's her room. She's brought some friends, and I am clearly an intruder. I explain about needing to meet people at the restaurant and apologize for trespassing. I notice the time. It's 1:30 and I was supposed to meet my friends at 11:00. I realize with surprise how late it's gotten and rush off, hoping my friends will still be there.

Interpretation: This dream is about change, and the difficulty I'm having making one. The converted house points to a changed (converted) self, but I have cold feet: I can't find the thing (the warm sock) that will protect me. What am I having so much trouble changing? What have I lost that I can't find, and what does it have to do with Father-- my father? Our Father Who Art in Heaven? Is what we lose, over the course of our lives, a gift for the Father? Or could it be something I've lost and need to find again? Whatever it is, it's gotten under my skin (anagram for sink). I'm out of place; I can't find the right venue for my transformation, and it's later than I think.

Mother Has Departed

The Dream: I am teaching an art class. I've forgotten my lesson plan and need to go home to get it. I give the students some warm up exercises, mostly to keep them busy while I'm gone, but as I demonstrate I think, “That's a good idea.” I'm surprised at myself, and pleased, that I handled this situation so well; in other words, my missing plan didn't throw me.

When I return the class has changed from an art class to a dream class. I lecture on dreams, telling the group to beware of charlatans who claim to tell them what their dreams mean. I am challenged by someone in the class: “You interpret your dreams on a blog; but dreams can have more than one interpretation.” I agree, saying, “I never meant to imply that dreams have only one meaning.” A dream presents itself to me, as only a title: Mother Has Departed.

Interpretation: Do I dare to attempt an interpretation after this? I'll soldier on . . . . I have a new sense of competency. I can survive the challenge represented by being imperfectly prepared. I teach, but I also learn. The world of art and dreams overlap. My inner scolding mother has departed, and I find I can carry on very well in her absence.

The Embrace of Perfect Love

The Dream: I am with Mother. Uncle Steve is ill, and we are worried about him. “Who will take care of him?” I ask. Mother chides me for ignoring his condition. I defend myself. “No,” I say, “We have kept in touch, calling him. And Sergie has been keeping every one informed.” I say something to the effect that at Uncle Steve's age (82 in the dream) you couldn't expect him to last much longer. Then I realize that Mother is also in her 80s and that I've made a tactless remark. At the same time I realize that Uncle Steve is dead, has been dead for some time. I start to tell Mother than I know he's dead; I'm trying to persuade her to remember. I embrace Mother, telling her I love her. She says she loves me. As she says she loves me I feel her pulling back emotionally. I realize she is trying to protect herself from these strong feelings. I feel very tender toward her. I recognize that her need to protect herself is the measure of how much she loves me and how vulnerable she is. I am moved to tears by this.

Interpretation: This dream has made an important discovery. With my new understanding of what had appeared to be my mother's coldness I can enlarge the compass of my empathy and understanding. At the same time the dream might be pointing out what's behind my own emotional distance. The tears are a good sign—feelings have broken through.

Guest Dreamer: The Python, Mago, and Homecoming

Occasionally people experience what dream workers call a “big” dream: one that points us in a new direction. Helen Hwang recounts one of these, along with her thoughts on what the dream has meant to her search for her own spiritual truth.

Helen's Dream: I do not have a narrative for this dream. I have a scene to describe. I saw an old, big, and long python coiled in a room at least three or four times. The coils of the snake filled four corners of the room! Its posture was firm and its head was up. It stayed still and looked at me as if smiling. It was emanating an aura of something positive and comforting, love, peace, and wisdom etc. I felt comforted and delighted with the sight. The snake felt like my grandmother to whom I was very close when young.

After awakening, I described what I saw and felt in my dream journal. Then I decided to interact with the dream. I called the old python "Grandmother Wisdom" and began to talk to her, the content of which I do not remember clearly now. (I do not have the journal with me.) I may have asked her to protect me and guide me through the years to come. I may have pleaded with her to lead me to an exciting adventure in life. I intuitively knew that this was a dream of importance. However, I had no clue about how to interpret it. It just felt good!

Helen's thoughts on her dream: That was twenty some years ago. I was a devoted Christian, liberal though, at that time, eager to follow the lifestyle of an overseas missionary. Perhaps I had already joined the missionary group and was being trained on the day that I had this dream. This dream remained a mystery for a long time. And I had almost completely forgotten it until this morning. Now, I see this python was the symbol of ouroboros leading me to the primordial knowing of the Great Goddess. She kept her promise and granted my heart's wish.

I was reminded of this dream because I wrote and published this essay today: Toward the Primordial Knowing of Mago. It feels right that this dream was a prophetic dream for my life's forthcoming and unfolding voyage to the Great Goddess. I am beginning to understand its details now.

The room that the python was sitting in was a medium-sized rectangular room with white walls and no furniture. The center was simply left empty. Just a clean and bright, pristine room. Now I can see the room is filled with the primordial energy emanated from Mago, the Great Goddess. It is the same energy that came from the time of beginning. That this was a family room of my childhood intimates that I would be coming Home with Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia. The word, Halmeoni, in Korean means grandmother and goddess at once. This dream was a manifestation of primordial intelligence working in me at that time. It foretold that I would be re-turning to the Female Divine of my own culture.

That the python was coiling in the four corners suggests the four directions, which means all directions of the world in East Asia. Am I not bridging the worlds through my research and advocacy of Mago? Also I find it interesting that the room was undecorated exposing bare white walls. It signifies to me a new beginning to be evolved with many potentials and possibilities. Now the article that I wrote in 2007 about my homecoming with Mago comes to mind: Returning Home.

It has taken many turns over the years for me to realize that the power of the Great Goddess/Mago has been working in me!

Moving Past Judgment

The Dream: I'm packing items as if for a move. Nearby is a judge's high desk; seated behind it is an attractive robed black woman, the Judge. She asks me if I am ready for the earthquake. I say I am, and that I can vouch for the packed items being properly prepared. I am surprised at my confidence. She is personable and friendly, yet I realize that despite this I must honor her position, so I tack on “your honor” at the end of my statement.

I tell her that Clark and I have a plane to catch. She asks me when I need to be at the airport and I say 1:00 pm, but then I realize that's when the plane is leaving, and I should leave earlier. She tells me it's 11:00 am now; I begin to feel panicky.

Interpretation: Many of the images in this dream suggest that a profound change in the psyche is working its way up to consciousness. I've prepared for a move. (I've packed properly.) The judge is black, a color denoting mystery and the workings of the unconscious. She's clearly admirable and respected--a guide. While her opinion is not to be taken lightly, she is helpful rather than critical, and I am allowed to feel confident.

She signals that big changes are in the works by asking me if I am ready for the earthquake (an earth-shattering event). When I say I am, and let her know I'm ready to make my move (catch the plane), she lets me know it's later than I think. At this point I lose my confidence. I'm not as ready for change as I had hoped.