Time to Get Rid of Tired Old Ideas

The Dream: My uncle S is a very old, decrepit man. He walks bent over and is housebound, yet his spirit is domineering, his voice is strong, and he's calling the shots. My daughter, about 5 years old, needs a home and I've “placed” her with him. She comes to me saying he's kicked her out; he has someone older, an adolescent girl who can do chores. I wonder if he has a dirty old man's interest in an attractive teenager.

I realize I need to find a new home for my child, but resent this intrusion into my work-a-day world. I have so many projects—now this! But I soon realize what my true priority should be: taking care of my child.

Interpretation: This uncle represents the stern, unattractive  side of my animus, my own internalized patriarch. Forty years of feminism have weakened him, but his voice remains strong, and he has made no place for the feminine except as a convenience (a doer of chores) or a sex object. Of course I'm everything in my dream, so neither have I! At first I am too preoccupied by the busyness of contemporary life to pay much attention, but the dream tells me that this should be a priority. I need to care for the vulnerable (young child) part of myself, my inner femininity, and the first step will be to stand up to my own faulty conceptions of masculinity and femininity.

Wading Out of Being Stuck

The Dream: I'm on a train that isn't going anywhere, and I finally decide to get off. The train is stopped about 12 feet wide of the platform, and the gulf is filled with water. Clark has waded ashore: he has Wellies. I decide there's only one way to get there and begin to make the crossing, getting my trousers and shoes wet.

Interpretation: I'm going in a predetermined and unalterable direction (on a train) when I discover I'm not going anywhere. Since being on a train can represent my life's journey, the dream is telling me it's time for a change. In deciding to get off the train it's clear I'm ready to make the change, but I'm confronted with a difficulty: the train is not near the platform, and the space in between is filled with water. Water represents emotion, so for me to move on in my life's course I need to wade into some feelings that I've been avoiding. My animus, the part of me that forges forward in the world, has some protection in the form of Wellies—waterproof boots. But for the dream ego, my more vulnerable self, there's no other way except to plunge in and get my feet wet.

The Layered Look

The Dream: I have gone to a store with a male friend. I am wearing a shirt and underpants. I start to feel self-conscious, and I realize this is the second time I've done this recently. I turn to my companion saying, “You could have said something!”

The store is dimly lit; I'm hoping no one will notice, or that I can pull down my shirt to the point it will cover the undies. I become aware that I'm wearing two pairs. The longer pair, boxer shorts, is silky and patterned: dark blue, black and white. The second pair, worn over the boxers, is flesh colored with a typical women's panty cut.

Interpretation: What do these underwear represent? The boxers, with their bold masculine pattern, are closest to my body. Over these, but not completely covering them up, is a skin-colored layer of femininity.

The dream leads me to ask: what is my essence? Is femininity an overlaid cultural construct, obscuring what actually lies closer to my skin—or even under it? A discussion the evening before led me to think of the “masculine” as representing the vital life force that pushes outward: an energy field we all must have. Women might use theirs in a “feminine” way—to protect their young—or we might use it to write, to lead, to do scientific research. Whatever we do with energy and commitment and passion—whatever we're willing to “fight” for, might be attributed to our animus, the masculine force. Our more inward, reflective, spiritual, soulful, intuitive side belongs to our anima, the feminine force. When we passionately follow a spiritual or artistic path, both are engaged.

How is this playing out in my life, and what is my dream telling me about it? I feel remarkably strong, especially intellectually. (My animus boxers are close to me.) I'm afraid of offending when I let this out (when I'm exposed!) publicly. So I cover over my strength with an outward layer of femininity (the anima panties). By doing this I give short shrift to both sides, and, no surprise, I feel inappropriate and uncomfortable. But perhaps the dream, and my illustration, have helped to resolve the issue. When I look at the drawing I think, “Those two undies worn together look kind of attractive—and there's something about it that's fun!”

Guest Dreamer: A Man in My House

This dream is from Firequeen, who recently published Dream Diary of a White Witch.
As usual with dreams contributed to this blog, I will interpret Firequeen's dream as if it were one of my own

Firequeen's Dream: I dreamed I went to a large house where I met a man. I felt very drawn to this man and we sat and relaxed and talked a long time. We sat close together and I felt sexually attracted to him. He was talking in an authoritative way and said ‘We must get you a car, a red one’. I said that would be nice but I had never learned to drive. He said that was not a problem as he would teach me.

Then it was next morning but there was nothing in the dream concerning the night, where I had spent it, whether with this man or not. I was getting ready to leave the house to go to work, but it was filling up with other people who were all coming there to see the man or to do business with him. It seemed that he was an important person and some of what he did was directing films, so he had to see everyone and tell them what to do. He was very busy, with this and other things.

I began to feel left out of this side of his life, and wondered what was going on. When I wanted to speak to him it was not possible, he was too busy. Then someone unseen (or a Voice) told me that this was my house and that he was taking it over, and that I should not allow this to happen, it was foolish of me.

But inside I had this wonderful feeling like when you are tremendously in love and all you want is to be with the other person, and I knew this was worth anything, any sacrifice, because it is the most marvelous feeling in the world, which money can’t buy. And I woke up with the feeling, the urge, the longing for this person still with me, and I felt its full force.

And now I cannot even remember what it was like, I cannot call up the memory of that emotion. I only know I felt it once again, as I must have felt it in the past. Only it is long gone.

Carla's thoughts: In this dream the house represents me, and the man I meet there is a part of myself that I haven't integrated. Jung tells us that a sexual encounter in a dream can be a conjunctio, a coming together of two aspects of the Self that have been alienated. My attraction to this man indicates that I am getting ready to accept this strong, engaged, authoritative part of myself. When he offers me a vibrant red car, my animus is offering me a new zest for life. Since a car represents our way of negotiating the road of life, when I tell him that I have not learned to drive I am expressing my fear that I am unable to actuate my life. But this unrecognized part of me is not afraid at all; he will teach me.

In the second and third paragraphs of the dream I begin to see why I have resisted accepting this animus figure as part of myself. The man is very busy and must lead and direct a lot of people. If I completely accept this role, I feel that I am taking on a burdensome amount of responsibility. As I become so busy supervising others and working in the outside world (the realm of the animus) I feel I am losing the other part of myself, the the spiritual place where I customarily live. I don 't want the strong, directive part of me to take over at the expense of the more sensitive, intuitive part.

In spite of my conflicted feelings, my longing in the final paragraph of the dream tells me that I want to make room for this emerging part of me—the part that leads and is in charge, the part that enjoys driving the red car. My animus is generating excitement in me and uniting with him will give me renewed passion for life. With this dream my unconscious tells me that at this point in my life I am able to unify and balance what have been, until now, sparring aspects of my psyche.

I’m Blind

The Dream: Clark says, “Car, you’re blind.”

Interpretation: There was more to this dream, and I wish I could remember it because it might tell me what it is I’m not seeing. The statement comes from my husband Clark (my other half). He uses half my name. There are two “halves” in this dream: my animus (my other half) and half my name. Yet the two halves are not adding up to a whole, and I’m not getting the complete picture (I’m blind.)

My Pots Runneth Over

This image tells the story: an out of control mess.

The Dream: There are several pots of different sizes on the stove. All are boiling over, making a big mess. It looks as if they all contain the same thing, unappetizing ground meat in liquid. A man offers to help clean up, but I want him to go away and leave me to do it in my own way, which I feel will be more efficient.

Interpretation: I dislike cleaning up after others, and in general dislike disorganization, mess, and clutter. Controlling the mess in my environment is a way of controlling myself. Yet the mess is out of control in this dream, with more than one pot boiling over. This “mess” is a metaphor for a difficult family situation. The dream tells me not to expect to solve the problem in any sort of practical way (with the help of the man, who represents my masculine, logical side), but to leave its working out to my intuitive (feminine) side. 

My Niche

The Dream: Clark and I, both dressed so eclectically that we resemble hobos, are walking in a foreign city. We are near a closed bank with an open foyer. I need to adjust the laces on my hiking shoes so I enter, park myself in a niche and get to work. Clark sits in another niche while he waits for me.

The tellers arrive: their work station is directly across from me. One young lady with short blond hair and glasses begins to make loud and unpleasant comments, saying I don’t belong here. I work on my shoes, determined to ignore her but nevertheless I feel uncomfortable. When I’m done I look for Clark, who I had thought was nearby silently supporting me by also refusing to move. However, I notice he has already high-tailed it, so I go outside to find him.

Interpretation: I wander in alien territory (a foreign city) with my animus (Clark). We don’t fit in here (we are dressed creatively but inappropriately). So—I’m out of place, and in some way I am stuck: my shoes, the things that enable me to stand on my own two feet and to move in comfort, need adjustment. I find my niche and attempt to fix the problem.

The blond teller represents someone I know in waking life who is very interested in making money from her talent, so she represents the part of me that would like to do the same. She tries to dislodge me from my comfortable niche, and I try to ignore her. My discomfort tells me that I’m not immune to her criticism. In other words, I live in a commercial world, and a part of me disdains my inner “artist” for failing to succeed financially.  The part of me that deals with the world in a practical way (my animus Clark) does not support my retreat to a comfortable but unprofitable niche. To integrate these two adverse factions (practical vs. artistic) I have to leave my comfort zone (the niche) and go outside.

Something’s Got a Hold of Me

The Dream: I’m in bed with my husband Clark, but having sex with someone else who is small in stature and not particularly attractive, but very seductive. I later find out he has had concurrent affairs with many others, each of whom thought she was the only one. I find a message he has sent to one of his paramours. He has drawn a lush lake shore in an expressionistic style. In some way this art conveys his undying love for some other woman.

I am incensed and go to fight with this guy who, I had believed, loved only me. I find him in a cafeteria with Clark. The fellow grabs hold of me and won’t let go. No one helps me; I struggle on.

Interpretation: The figure in the dream appears to be a trickster: he is small, seductive, and unattractive. There’s some small unattractive part of me that I find seductive. In the dream I try out this part, merging with it (having sex). The part of me that deals with life and the world in a practical way (Clark, playing the part of my animus) refuses to get involved in the problem. First he sleeps as the trickster and I become one, and then he doesn’t lift a finger to free me when I’ve had enough of the experiment. I’ve seen the trickster for what he is: duplicitous and deceptive, yet in some way connected to art and regeneration (the lush lake shore). The dream tells me I’ll struggle on until I recognize and integrate this unappealing part of myself.

The Complications of Eradicating Evil

The Dream: Some very evil men can’t be controlled. My husband Clark decides to murder them. Their bodies are placed upright in a public space, as if embedded into a curtain that surrounds a public square. We wait for them to be discovered and to see what sort of public reaction there will be. Clark is convinced he’s done the right thing and has the courage of his certainty. I’m nervous and unsure. Who will back us up? Who will turn us in? Who knows?

Interpretation: This is a dream about something we confront every day as we listen to the news: evil people commit evil deeds; what can I do about it? In the dream my public, active side, represented by my husband (my other half), takes action. My introverted, more reflective, less impulsive side (represented by the dream ego) is not sure the action taken was a good idea. 

A more complicated ethical dilemma arises: we’ve covered up (veiled) our action. By privately making a decision for the group (the public) we risk alienating ourselves from the society we live in. Taking action has left us hanging out, much like our victims.

And then there’s another way to look at the dream: what evil part of myself am I veiling from public view? And isn’t the evil hidden in my breast the most difficult to eradicate? Partially because even I can’t see it: it’s veiled, embedded and enclosed!

Life in the Swamp

The Dream: Clark and I are in a wasteland, trying to get back. At one point the ground becomes muddy. The swampy earth clings to Clark’s shoes. He is wearing his “good” shoes, so this is distressing. My shoes are more appropriate to the hike, so I am not bothered. The damp and sticky ground begins to give way to streams of varying widths, and I am concerned that Clark will not be able to wade across. However, he manages easily by jumping. We return to a modern maze-like structure.

Interpretation: Clark, my other half, represents my animus. Delving into unconscious material (the swamp) finds him at a disadvantage. As the unconscious material begins to take shape (changes into streams) I realize he could be in trouble. But since he is the part of me that ignores this sort of thing, he manages by jumping over it. We leave the deeper, swampy material behind in order to attend to a current conundrum (the modern maze-like structure).
 

The Frog and the Baby

The Dream: An earlier dream about a frog morphed into one about an adorable baby, whose diaper I’m having a lot of trouble changing. I mention to no one in particular that it was not such a problem when I had to change my own children.  The baby is very patient. By the time I get her clean diaper on I think she’s already wet herself again, but I don’t want to investigate that too far because I’d have to go through the trouble of another change. Her parent is going to take her someplace in a convertible, so I place her on the back seat, propped up like a papoose. Then I think better of it, fearing she might go flying out and come to harm. I suggest to the parent that we put her on the floor of the backseat. He comes to look to make sure the spot is a good one and that she will fit into it, and then concurs.

Interpretation: This dream is about some part of me that I don’t like becoming acceptable. The appearance of the frog tips the dream’s hand: in the fairy tale the despised frog turns into a prince. The nascent part of myself (the baby) presents me with some difficulties (she is hard to change), and I underline the difficulty when I comment that my own children were “not such a problem.” After a struggle I am successful in changing the baby, but the effect doesn’t last: she immediately wets herself. This tells me she represents a persistent part of my unconscious, and one that I would rather not take a look at. (I don’t want to investigate that too far.)

But one way or another, change is going to take place. A parent (male) arrives in a convertible (a car that converts, i.e., changes). I hand the newly emergent part of myself (the baby) off to this animus figure (the part of me that deals with the outside world). Both my animus and I seek to protect this newly formed, or discovered, part. However, as we protect her we also put her in the backseat, on the floor, where she can’t be seen--or get into trouble.

For a dream featuring a baby and a spider see Baby and Spider
For other dreams featuring frogs see My Inner Frog and Pass It On

It’s Really Coming Down

I had forgotten this dream, until I noticed the rain and said, “It’s really coming down.”

The Dream: Clark and I are in a car; he’s driving. Behind us a car goes over a very steep precipice; some guy has pushed an unoccupied vehicle over the edge. A moment or two later I see the guy follow. He’s wearing a yellow polo shirt and tan trousers. His outfit reminds me uncomfortably of Clark. I feel helpless, watching this event and being unable to do anything about it. It seems clear it’s a suicide. I can’t watch the jump to its inevitable conclusion. I recount what I’ve seen to Clark and say, “We’ll see this on the evening news.”

Interpretation: My husband Clark represents my animus, the part of me that deals with the demands of work and business. That he is driving tells me that the dream is about issues in that part of my life. I’m on edge (the cliff). I’m clearly frustrated with the direction I’m going in, so I push the car (the thing that gets me where I’m going) off the cliff.

Jung called our mentally healthy, integrated psyche the Self. The fact that I stupidly follow the car tells me that if I don’t change direction I’m going to kill my Self, thus losing what I had apparently gained in the previous dream.

Guest Dreamer: Bed, Bath and Beyond

A typical dream for Hunky, a visual artist, is composed of images. She is perplexed by this dream because it consists only of words.

The Dream: This morning before I was totally awake I almost called out loud to my husband, "John, call Bed, Bath and Beyond!  Correct the error!  We don't want to pay for what we didn't receive!"  

Hunky: My imagination takes off with this dream, Carla, but I could be totally wrong.  Does it refer to my marriage?  Does it refer to my health (just got good news)?  Does it refer to my continuing concerns (issues around my father)?  Should I sleep on it (bed), and what is it?  Should I wash away certain concerns from my thinking (bath)? Should I look to the future (beyond) for positive, fulfilling endeavors?  I am totally confused.  Because this dream had no visual context I am challenged by its words. Can you imagine the dream as yours?

Carla: My version of Hunky’s dream operates on two levels. Marie-Louise von Franz says that a dream refers to, or is triggered by, something that happened in the past day or two. The trigger doesn't limit the meaning of the dream, but it can be helpful in starting to understand it. The first level has to do with my day-to-day concerns and issues, such as the ones that Hunky has mentioned. If it were my dream, I would ask myself if there were something that I had felt as if I had paid for (not necessarily with money--perhaps with my effort) that gave me nothing back. I call on my animus (my husband, my other-half) to fix the situation. I don't feel my feminine side can deal with the problem. Perhaps I feel I have to give, to support and to nurture beyond my capability. I need my male half to step in, be practical, and protect me from my tendency to overextend for the benefit of others.

My Father’s Pen

The Dream: I have picked up a pen and I notice how nicely it writes. I realize it is my father’s pen—possibly also Jerry’s or Clark’s. I want to have a pen like this. It writes very smoothly. It is a ball point, and it isn’t new: it shows some signs of wear.

Interpretation: This dream seems Freudian in the extreme. Pen: penis; and a ball-point, no less. But what does the penis represent? Not so much the organ, but male power in the world. Jung might say that in a woman's dream it represents her animus, or inner man. The dream plays with words:  the pen is what I use to make my mark in the world through drawing and writing.

A Slice of Head?

The Dream: A young man in a classroom is using a large chef’s knife to slice his head into three layers above his eyebrows. It doesn’t seem to distress him in any way. I am concerned, however, even if he isn’t.

Clark and I are waiting to go into a lecture on dreams in a setting that is part classroom, part theater. An usher seats a lone woman who is in front of us, and we are meant to wait in the lobby for our turn. I, however, decide to sneak in behind them and see how many seats are still available. The room is almost full. I’m excited to see how many people have turned out for a lecture on dreams. At the same time I think Clark and I had better grab a seat because there aren’t too many remaining.

We take our seats, and who should appear but the head slicer. He sits next to me and, again, starts to slice his head into 3 sections. I find this very disturbing, and this time he looks pale, as if about to faint. As he starts the final incision I say, “We must call an ambulance.” The young man doesn’t want us to.

Interpretation: The young man is slicing the part of his head where thought takes place (above the brow) into three sections, reflecting the division of our minds into id, ego and superego (Freud) or conscious, personal unconscious, and collective unconscious (Jung). While the dream character doing the self dissection appears to be unbothered, the dream ego goes from concerned to alarmed. Perhaps my animus (Clark) and I are too eager to go learn from dreams (we are attending a dream lecture). There is no seat (place) for us here, and it is only my pushiness (going out of turn) that gets us in. Once in, the head slicer reappears, and this time he seems to be feeling some ill effects from his work on himself

Exposed: Part 3

The Dream: I go into the subway. I order some tokens and need to go to the left of the counter to pick them up. I pick up a pile containing far more than I paid for and wonder if I should return the extras. As in the last dream segment, I decide not to “do the right thing.”

I see my Aunt Mary, dressed as a gypsy, collecting money for the poor. I give her some change but take back one of my tokens that inadvertently fell into her basket. I ask her for the key to her apartment so I can put on some clothes. She gives it to me, saying Uncle Mike will be there.

Interpretation: My unconscious (the subway) is activated to solve the problem put forth in the earlier segments of this dream: what is my role as a woman in today's complex society?  How do I bring together the role of women modeled by my mother and reinforced by my 50s childhood with the enormous societal change realized by the women of my generation? I “go to the left” or, in dream terms, I don’t try to resolve this rationally. Dreams allow –even insist on – paradox. I don’t have to reject my mother’s path to follow my own.  I accept the “tokens” offered by the “left” (unconscious), with its sly suggestion that I am not doing the “right” thing.

I see my aunt (my mother’s sister: that is, my mother) in a new way. (She gets some change.) At the same time I hang on to the “token” of my new self. She gives me the key (her acceptance) to recovering my sense of worth, symbolized by the clothes I will put on in her apartment. And an animus figure, my uncle, will be waiting for me there, signaling that my psyche will be better balanced between feminine and masculine.

My Inner Men

Don't discount a dream if you only remember a fragment; sometimes these are are surprisingly revealing.

The Dream: An image of a large group of transvestites.

Interpretation: Jung thinks that men have an inner woman, the anima, whom he describes as the soul, or Eros. Like most psychiatrists of his era, he had a harder time understanding the inner workings of women, but he came up with the concept that we each had an inner unconscious man, which he called our mind or spirit: Logos.

I’ll let Jung speak for himself: “Woman is compensated by a masculine element and therefore her unconscious has, so to speak, a masculine imprint. . . . woman’s consciousness is characterized more by the connective quality of Eros than by the discrimination and cognition associated with Logos.  . . .  In women . . . Eros is an expression of their true nature, while their Logos is often only a regrettable accident. “*

Hmmm: those terribly logical and rational men, their consciousness in touch with Logos, can’t seem to stop fighting and killing each other—but Jung will explain my comment this way, “. . . it consists of opinions instead of reflections, and by opinions I mean a priori assumptions that lay claim to absolute truth.”**

So be it. But I bet if you ran the numbers (murders committed by women vs. murders committed by men, for example) they’d back me up. And this is why my inner men are wearing dresses!

*Carl Gustav Jung, The Portable Jung, Edited by Joseph Campbell, Translated by R.F.C. Hull, New York: Penguin Books, 1976, p152.
**Ibid.

Guest Dreamer: Laid Off and Weeping

Today’s guest dreamer is Emily. She is an experienced dream worker and will interpret her own dream—although that isn’t a word she likes to use. “I'm never comfortable with using 'interpretation' when working with a dream,” she says, “perhaps because there never is one interpretation.” That’s a good point.
       
The Dream: I am in the instructor’s room at the county jail where I used to work as a teacher. I sit at a small round wooden table across from my tall blond co-worker Alyssa. Our boss Evans walks in and asks her if she has 2 ½  hours available. He then talks about how good Alyssa has been on the job; so good, in fact, that he is going to have to lay her off. Tension builds in the room. Alyssa stands up to walk out with Evans to go to that 2 ½  hour meeting where she’ll be terminated, and she starts to cry. I stand up to hug her, and I start crying as well. As we embrace and weep together, she inadvertently knocks off my Tilley hat.

Emily’s thoughts on her dream: As jail is a form of imprisonment, I see how I can imprison myself by being “too good” a daughter, wife, or friend. So good, in fact, my animus needs to deliver me from my self-imposed and compulsive responsibility that has recently resurfaced in waking life (I know my boss never took his job half as seriously as I took mine, so the message comes across loud and clear).

The weeping is timeless grief. As Alyssa grieves at leaving her “dream” job (which I held in waking life for many years with much satisfaction), I grieve at the passing of my old, unhealthy habit of needing to be needed. Allyssa knocks off my Tilley hat which represents outdoor activity, recreation, freedom.  By embracing Allyssa the dream ego shows compassion for the qualities that are not so great about the “good girl” persona. Perhaps she’ll soon put the hat on!

Carla’s thoughts: If this were my dream, I would ask myself about the significance of 2 ½ since my dream emphasizes that number by mentioning it twice.

The things I’m “too good” at are socially determined roles: daughter, wife, friend. The phrase “laid off” tells me that some part of me is saying, “Lay off! Gimme a break.”

Re-organized

Another odd little creature emerges in this dream, which seems to reflect the 3-tiered organization that Jung and Freud attributed to the mind.

The Dream: The bathroom’s vanity counter is clear. I am surprised and wonder where my things have gone: Clark has re-organized. A new tube of shampoo and other items have been moved to a shelf underneath. I start to place the shampoo back where it was, and Clark intervenes. “No! No,” he says, “If you move that everything behind it will tumble down.” He puts his hand over mind to stop me.

“That’s a new tube,” I say. “If I can’t see it I might forget about it and buy another one.” I leave it where he’s moved it, but soon come up with a solution.  I see a 3-tiered plastic organizer, which I think will solve this dilemma. I will be able to see my stuff when I open the vanity door; the stuff will be off the top of the counter; it will be organized, and--important to me—I’ll be able to retrieve it when I need to.

I must clean the organizer before I use it; it has been sitting under the counter for quite a while. I take it out and run a finger along one edge. I discover a compact white webbed mass, like a spot where a spider lays eggs. I am alarmed when I see a black shiny spider leg, thinking it’s a Black Widow. I call out to Clark and then notice the spider has a different pattern on her back, in shades of beige and brown. I’m relieved.

Next I see a very unusual insect, something in between a lizard and a beetle. It is beautiful in an odd sort of a way, and I’ve never seen anything like it. I call out to Clark again to tell him he has to see this interesting bug.  I don’t want to kill it, but I do want it removed.

Interpretation: A re-organization is taking place in my mind. The ego is not the primer mover in this re-org; that role has been assigned to Clark, who represents an unconscious force, my animus. The ego works to come to terms with a process that is taking place beneath its awareness, as symbolized by things being moved under the counter. The 3 tiers reflect the classical model that layered the mind into the unconscious, the sub-conscious, and the conscious.

I’m afraid of some of the neglected elements that might be coming into consciousness, as seen by my reaction to the spider. Once I have integrated the spider by deciding it isn’t so fearsome after all, I am ready to confront the lizard part of my brain.

On(e) Stage

Have you ever noticed that you’re not quite yourself in dreams? The lead character in your nightly drama is called the dream ego.

The Dream: I’m in an odd-shaped structure, something like a tent except that it’s solid. It has various entrances, some of them in surprising places. I get up on a stage which has been set up inside this very large, yellow-ochre structure and begin to give a speech. I’m full of self-confidence as I begin. “Girls inherit their lungs from their mothers . . . .” I trail off as I begin to realize I have no idea where boys get their lungs. I try to find a way to retreat, to get off the stage. I escape through a back exit I hadn’t known was there. The “I” in the dream (dream ego) has dark brown curly hair and a perky demeanor. She doesn’t actually look like me.

Interpretation: The part of me that internalized the opinions of my mother and the female culture of my youth is beginning to realize she doesn’t know everything. She is in retreat. Her domain, the half circle of the tent, shows itself to be incomplete. She is missing what Jung calls the animus, the part of a woman--symbolized by her inner man--that enables her to take on the world.