The Rape

The Dream: A woman is friends with a man. We are living in a shared space. I leave them to go into another room. Soon I hear the woman screaming for me, horribly distressed. I find her in the bathroom. The toilet seat is up and she has immersed her bottom in the water, which is tinged with blood. It's clear to me that she has been raped by her “loving” friend. Shall I call 911?” I say. She doesn't answer. “I'll call 911,” I say, leaving her to look for a phone. This nightmare awakens me.

Interpretation: At the time of this dream I belonged to a book club sponsored by a Christian church. The meeting devolved into a discussion of the participants' personal beliefs. As I listened to others talk about “faith” and “belief” and “Christianity” I realized how alien I find these ideas. While the dream was triggered by media stories about rape, and certainly reflects the vulnerability that women face, the underlying issue for me is the rape of the intellect that I feel as a participant in a Christian group. I feel I'm not allowed to express my honest thoughts. This leaves me feeling my intellect (logical mind) has been raped; who I am (my self) denied.

The Thief

The Dream: I see a man entering apartments in an old building that closely resembles an apartment building I once lived in. He has a rectangular device somewhat bigger than a cell phone that he puts up to a locked door, and it opens immediately. I am surprised at how easy this is. I watch him open a couple of apartments this way. Then he comes to the apartment where my friends / family are having a party. As he attempts to enter I grab him, unsure about whether or not I'll be able to overcome him. I yell to the others to “Call 911!” They come to my aid, and we subdue him.

Interpretation: The phrase that came to my mind when I thought about this dream was the “thief of time.” Is the cell phone an “I” phone? Am I unlocking some old doors, and having a difficult time with what I find? The setting is dark and gloomy, the badly lit stairwell and hall of an old tenement something like my mother's Brooklyn apartment and my own apartment on 90th street in Manhattan. The intruder, Time, has gone into these places where family and friends once lived and stolen them, leaving me calling for help. Life goes on; with the help of other friends I subdue this thief, at least for a while.

My Child is Kidnapped

The Dream: My daughter and I are walking along a road that leads to the train station. The street and sidewalk are empty. A car draws near, an old-style sedan with a black landau top and a white body. The car is going slowly, near us, behaving oddly enough to make me slightly apprehensive. I look away for a moment and when I look back my daughter has disappeared. I stare into the car and see her in the front seat sitting between two severe-looking adults. The clearest one is an older woman with gray-black hair and a quiet demeanor. When I call 911 the operator tells me there is nothing the police can do. She suggests I go talk to the kidnappers, face to face.

Interpretation: Is my (inner) kid napping? Has she been stolen from me? On the other hand, I’m seeing the situation in black and white, no nuanced shades of gray; that hints that I might be operating under the influence of some simplistic, childish ideas that I’m unaware of. Who are they, these somber people in an old-fashioned car? Do I need to talk to (better understand) the forces that have taken my inner child? Clearly, I’m on my own with this one; the “authorities” cannot help.

The End of Carla?

The Dream: A young woman has decided to kill herself. She is with friends; I am among them. There’s something theatrical about this endeavor. What should I do? Ignore it? Try to stop her? I do nothing until she takes some pills, then I call 911. I have difficulty getting through. First I can’t quite see which buttons to push. My mini-computer becomes my giant cell phone, and even in the dream I find this odd. At last I manage to get through. The person answering the phone is very relaxed. We have a short conversation; I explain the situation, but the connection is not good. I say I’ll call back, wondering as I hang up if I’ll get the same guy. Or will I have to explain the situation all over again?

I await the arrival of the medics; they are slow coming. No one seems concerned about this potential suicide. As time elapses, the girl comes around. I find out that her suicide “cocktail” consisted of a calcium pill and a baby aspirin. I realize all this suicide drama has been overblown, and I’m embarrassed over calling 911. I wonder how the medics will react once they arrive at this nonexistent crisis.

Interpretation: Oh dear, someone isn’t getting enough attention. Could it be me? In a slightly more serious vein, some part of me is crying out for help and having difficulty getting through to others. I don’t seem to have the right equipment: I’m using a computer as a cell phone. When I finally do talk to someone the connection is not good. Is the dream a reaction to doing this blog? After all, it’s communication through the computer, and I have little way of knowing how it’s received. In the dream no one is concerned about this potential “suicide.”  If Carla dies (stops writing this blog) would anyone care? Oh, woe is me!