Can't Hit Them When They're Down

The Dream: My friend Martha has let me know, without directly saying so, that she is very angry with her husband George who suffers from a debilitating disease. It's an anger too deep for words, and she expresses it by holding a baseball bat in one hand and tapping it against the other.

I'm in the house; my mother is with me, as are others. It's a party of sorts. I have a drink, and my mother makes a “joke” about not saying anything about my reaching for a drink for fear I'd whack her with a baseball bat.

Martha and George show up. Martha is seething at George. I tell her the comment my mother made, thinking it's a hilarious joke. Martha talks about anger toward the ill and helpless, pointing out that it is very difficult to express. At this point she is so angry at George that I wonder if she will leave him, and part of me would be happy to see her free of him and all the obligation that caring for him entails.

Interpretation: At first I thought this dream was about unexpressed anger toward my husband, but when I asked myself who in my life had been ill for a very long time—and who did I resent because I couldn't express this anger and frustration—I came up with a very different answer. I couldn't leave my ill mother or mother-in-law (be free of their needs and influence) while they lived, but the dream points out that it's okay to be relieved to be free from those obligations now.

Guest Dreamer: Rapprochement in the Garden

Susan, whose daughter has recently divorced, contributed this dream.
The Dream: I am in the back garden with James (my daughter's ex-husband). I remember there was a time when I asked him to fix a broken tooth, and he looked into my mouth. This memory leaves me feeling exposed and uncomfortable. We have a conversation, and as it goes on my anger at him lessens. In some way I forgive him for the mess he made of my daughter's marriage. A sort of peace prevails, with a feeling also of sadness and loss.

Carla's thoughts: If this were my dream, the broken tooth would symbolize the broken relationship. My son-in-law's looking into my mouth represents a level of trust that he has betrayed by the way he treated my daughter. I'm now embarrassed that I allowed him into my life and into the close circle of my family. Yet the dream shows me that I will not hang onto these negative feelings. I acknowledge my sadness and the sense of loss that I feel because this relationship failed, and in recognizing these feelings I can begin to get past my anger and forgive him.

Through a Glass Darkly

The Dream: I'm wandering through the streets of New York with a partner who seems somewhat--but not quite--like my husband Clark. The sidewalks are interspersed with trees; they remind me of Manhattan's East 60s, near where I once lived. It is early autumn. We are looking for Uncle Steve, and there is something mysterious about the mission. He has relocated and won't tell anyone where he is.

We go into a large old-fashioned apartment building, dimly lit with wide hallways. We know he's here. The door of his apartment is half frosted glass. We knock. He doesn't answer. Clark bangs loudly and assertively on the door. Finally Uncle Steve answers, not by opening the door but by yelling at us. He wants to be left alone.

Interpretation: My uncle's birthday was a few days ago; he died in the early 80s. His death is indeed a relocation. I'm looking for someone to tell me what awaits on the other side of the door. The door's frosted glass tells me, in the obscure and poetic language of the King James Bible, that spiritual truths are glimpsed “through a glass darkly.” In a recent dream class the idea was offered that if you ask your spirit guide the wrong question s/he won't answer, and also that the departed must volunteer for the job. It doesn't appear that Uncle Steve wants this one.

Looking at the dream's more mundane possibilities, my uncle was one of the authoritative adults when I was a child. How many questions does a child have that are left unanswered? Or responded to with anger?

A Royal Flush

The Dream: A public toilet: not only is it public in the sense that it is a large facility anyone can use, but also because there are no privacy stalls. Someone has defecated, and the toilet I’m about to use is full of excrement. I’m concerned that adding my contribution will cause an overflow when I flush. There is a supervisory woman who seems to think this is okay. And in fact, when I pull the lever a very small flush clears the entire mess with quiet efficiency. I am relieved.

Interpretation: This dream resolves the last two dreams, The Scream and Much Ado Over Nothing. The first sets the stage for me to confront the pain of dealing with my father’s anger. The second transforms my understanding of that pain and enables me to see that I am strong enough to withstand it. Today’s dream finishes the purge with a graphic image of shit that is a lot easier to get rid of than I had anticipated. And even mother (the supervisory woman) is on board with letting it go.

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.

Help!

The Dream: My child is off doing something in the next room and comes in to ask for some help. I say I’m busy, and she makes a sarcastic, flip remark. I get angry and begin to rail about children only thinking of themselves, about my being sick, about my needing some help myself once in a while. The more I yell the angrier I get.

Interpretation: In waking life I’m feeling overloaded by obligations—things I really don’t want to do. I’m at odds with my inner child who doesn’t understand why I’ve gotten myself into such a mess.

The Willing Sacrifice

This dream has two different levels of meaning, as you’ll find many of your dreams do.
The Dream: I’m giving a large dinner party. I run around distractedly trying to get everything done. The guests are milling about and no one offers to help. I am making no progress, but working very hard. I ask one of the children to set the table; when I take some dishes into the dining room I discover the table is bare. I am angry and frustrated, not particularly at the children, but at everyone attending the party for not pitching in. I am embarrassed and feel the event is out of control.

There is no bread. I thought I had some, but for some reason it can’t be used. A man offers to be the bread. He climbs onto a kitchen table, lies face up, and tells me to slice him. I don’t know where to slice and feel very uncomfortable with the idea, but he is insistent. He wants to help; he assures me he will turn into bread once I begin slicing. I take a knife and make a shallow incision in the area of the abdomen. I see a thin trickle of blood, not deep red like real blood but thin and watered-down looking, orange-red. When I see the blood I cannot continue.

Interpretation: On the day-to-day level, I’ve taken on more than I can handle. (I am making no progress, but working very hard.) Oh, the story of my life! I feel I’m getting nothing back for the effort I put in. I would like some help, but none is forthcoming. Some part of me wants to sacrifice myself to the needs of the group (become the food for the party-goers). Another part can’t do it.

On a deeper level, the willing sacrifice is what Jung calls an archetype, a symbol for something universal to human experience. The connection of sacrifice to bread is ancient and primitive. On this level the unconscious is pointing out the depth of sacrifice demanded of a sentient being who has chosen life on the planet. This profound and willing sacrifice is contrasted to the business (busy-ness) and petty frustrations with which we often fill our lives. The dream prepares me to accept the implications of life.