The Dream Journal

Figuring out who’s who is this dream’s puzzle.
The Dream: Mary tells me her friend is interested in dreams and shows me her dream journal. When I see it I feel inadequate. The woman has illustrated every scene of a dream that goes on for seven pages. The illustrations are creative and clever. She has made an illustration of little iced cookies in the shape of animals that represents Mary: Mary doesn’t care for it; she thinks it’s “too sweet,” but I think it’s charming. The illustrations are colorful, playful, and chic at the same time.

Interpretation: The Mary in this dream is a waking life friend. I am the only friend she has who keeps a dream journal. So—does this make me the friend whose dream journal she is showing me? Is she, in fact, showing me my own dream journal? And if she is, why do I feel inadequate when I see it? This leads to the next identity puzzle: is Mary actually Mary, or is she standing in for someone else? As an old friend she stands in for someone from my past. Who, I have to ask myself, in my past reacted to my work in a judgmental way? This leads me to the inevitable conclusion that the Mary in my dream stands in for my inner “mother.” The seven pages and the iced cookies hint at the era the dream evokes: when I was seven years old. A hopeful sign: I stand up for myself, disagreeing with Mary’s (mother’s) assessment of my artwork.

Mary in the Water

The Dream: I am with my friend Mary at an outdoor bar. We have been talking and talking, and I wonder if she is finding all this chat tedious. She decides to go home and take a bath. I am concerned that people can see into her apartment from where we had been sitting. The bar is not at ground level—it’s at about the same height as Mary’s apartment. From here we can clearly see her in the tub. She’s at the far end of the room, splashing about, twisting and turning in the water like a dolphin.

Interpretation: My East European grandmother used to call the Statue of Liberty “Mary on the Water.” In this dream “Mary in the Water” represents my desire for the freedom (liberty) to splash around in the waters of the unconscious like a dolphin. Mary is tired of chatting; she prefers the non-verbal unconscious. The dream ego (the “I” of the dream) responds to the freedom-seeking unknown part of myself (Mary) with concern; on-lookers can see my exposure. The dream message: some sort of social pressure is limiting my freedom. And my tub (my vision of freedom’s possibilities) could be larger. 

So Ugly She’s Cute

The Dream: My college friend Mary has a baby who’s so ugly that she’s cute. She is brown with straight golden-brown hair cut in long bangs, and she wears glasses. The baby is very young, only a few months old. She nurses with delight at Mary’s large breast. It soon becomes clear that the baby is very precocious. She can sit and talk; we can tell she is extremely intelligent. Mary is thrilled with her baby.

Interpretation: I think the newly arrived brown babies (this is the second one recently) are linked to a more authentic artistic self emerging as I work on my illustrated dream journals. Not all will find these drawings “beautiful,” yet I find them immensely appealing: so ugly they are beautiful. In waking life Mary is someone who has expressed her own artistic proclivities through others: she married a writer and has many friends in the arts. In the dream the Mary part of me—not quite brave enough to be an artist—has given birth to someone who might manage it. Mary nourishes the baby and is thrilled with her arrival: both good signs.

Talent in a Limited Sphere

The Dream: My friend Mary and I, and a couple of others, are sitting around in an oblong room. Even though we are few in number, performers come through to entertain us. First to appear is a mixed-aged singing troupe, very young children to adult arranged in order of age, youngest to the left. Two singers catch my eye, one an adorable black boy of about five and the other a middle aged brown-haired white woman. Plain but not homely, she looks like a sweet “mother” type from the 50s. She has a lovely voice, but the group as a whole is amateurish. Other performers cycle through and we realize they hope for some sort of success or recognition, but they have a long way to go, and they aren’t getting much exposure performing for us.

Interpretation: This dream juxtaposes the young, expressive, appealing child who has no skill with the boring, not particularly appealing middle-aged woman with surprising talent. Her talent cannot develop in the limited world she inhabits. Perhaps she is past the point where her talent can develop at all. Her dark blue dress and brown hair evoke my mother: am I looking at her limited achievement in the wider world, which I (and she, no doubt) regretted? Did she want me to be “famous” as her avatar? Is this what drives me?

The presence of my friend Mary is a hint that this dream is linked to the last post  Who’s in the driver seat?

Who’s in the Driver’s Seat?

The Dream: My friend Mary and I are in the back seat of a van. A man, with a child of about two years old, sits in the front. I notice the baby is driving, standing on the seat to reach the steering wheel. I am upset and concerned that the father allows his son to drive. I tell the father that I’m “not comfortable” with this baby driving the car. The father gets very angry at me. He talks about his own childhood, telling me how capable he was. He seems to feel his own capabilities were not recognized. I am surprised at his unreasonable outburst. I sit in stony silence, tightening my seat belt and suggesting to my friend that she do the same. Mary, a social worker, tries to engage the father in conversation, and afterward he takes over the driving.

Interpretation: I had been reading Bruno Bettelheim’s analysis of Hansel and Gretel, in which he looks at their actions as choices. For example, finding their way back home after their first expulsion is a regression: the children want to return to the babyish stage of life when parents give all and demand nothing. The mother, once she has expectations of her children, becomes a “witch” to them. The eating of her house symbolizes the children's infantile greediness: they eat their parents out of house and home.* From reading Bettelheim’s interpretations, my unconscious began to deal with the idea of my infantile self being in charge, in other words, with my being driven by the baby. When I protest my “adult,” who has a couple of unresolved childish issues of his own, responds with anger to my suggestion that he take control. Once this conflict is mediated by my social worker friend, who in waking life facilitates communication, a resolution can occur: the adult resumes his rightful place in the driver’s seat.

*Bruno Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment, Vintage Books Edition, Random House, New York, May 2010, 208-217.