Showing posts with label anima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anima. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Guest Dreamer: Solo Visit


Hunky's dream is about art, which symbolizes her most authentic self.

Hunky's Dream: I’m walking along San Pablo, near Ashby, in Oakland, heading north. There is an obvious entrance way I am curious about, so I enter. In a short distance I am underground. Is this an underground shopping center? I keep walking.

I’m now in a space as big as a football field. Throughout the space are areas where artists work. There are no separations between them--no walls, just spaces that flow into each other but reflect the uniqueness of each artist/craftsman. Sparsely located throughout the space is contemporary-looking work--some pieces small, some pieces large, all of them hold my attention and appreciation. I like being in this open space. I am particularly taken with a large, circular wood construction that the artist uses to produce his work. It is a beautiful piece of sculpture in itself. I’m impressed with the overall beauty of the place I’m in. It’s quiet in here. It’s a little odd that there are no artists in sight but this doesn’t bother me. To be social would interfere with the visual experience I am enjoying.

I walk up an organically shaped ramp to get to the outdoors. There are no right angles on the ramp, all soft curves. I look closely at the surface I am walking on barefoot. Embedded in the ramp material are tiny pieces of metal, copper and silver. They poke at the soles of my feet, but they do not hurt me.

On the rooftop the surface is covered with a material as dark as asphalt. The material must be as soft as sandstone, though, because all of it has been altered in some way. What I’m walking on has been altered by means of scraping away or building up. An undulating attractive surface was created.

A woman (about 60) greets me and offers to show me around. She is the only person I’ve seen since entering from the street. We visit artist’s areas. As it was when I was in the basement, the artists are not here either. At one place, an artist has created unique pieces of furniture, all of which has an animal as part of it. I see a wooden chair with a life-sized cat carved as part of the arm of the chair. The cat is the arm of the chair but it is definitely a cat as well. On the arm of a sofa is a soft animal form made of the same material as the rest of the sofa. These animals are cleverly integrated as part of the furniture. All the animal forms are compatible with, or the same materials as the furniture.

The woman tells me she is an artist but works here for other artists. I notice she is standing on the edge of the surface here on the rooftop. She is standing on the balls of her feet, like a diver who is preparing to do a back dive.

Then she shows me a large unfinished part of a connected rooftop area and tells me that her boss (an artist) wants to expand his area there. I mention that it must be strong to handle the weight. She says it is.

We approach this person who is her boss. He and she exchange pleasantries. Then the woman asks him if she can use his toilet. He doesn’t seem to be willing to allow it. I figure it must be a tricky and difficult task to install plumbing on this rooftop that has such a surface such as this one. But he tells her she can use the toilet.

As I wait, I hear the sounds of expulsion. I’m not embarrassed. The sounds are loud and powerful.

Carla's Thoughts: As usual, I will respond to Hunky's dream as if it were my own; I invite her to add to our understanding of her dream by leaving us her thoughts as well.

My natural curiosity, something I associate with my playful, creative inner child, has led me to an entrance to the underground (my unconscious). That I at first think I might be encountering a shopping center tells me that this area contains things I might buy (accept), or—by the same token—that I might not. But I pass by this initial response, and, as I do, the space opens up. In fact it becomes huge. Here I am given a vision of my artistic possibilities (my potential). I see no artists here because all of them are me, and we never see ourselves. The contemporary work symbolizes the things my psyche is currently working on. The circular construction represents the many facets of myself working together; this construction is me. In a place of beauty and serenity I am at peace with, and can appreciate, who I am.

As I walk up a ramp (go to a higher level by bringing some of this material into consciousness) my world becomes even more expansive: I am outdoors. This is a natural place, both because it is outdoors and because there are no sharp angles. My soul (sole) is poked, prodded, but this is not painful. On the rooftop I encounter a material that represents my life experiences, some dark, but all altered by the sculpting, the scraping and building up, of things I've done. I appreciate my life; it's an undulating (moving, changing like a river) and attractive achievement.

Then I encounter my anima (the 60 year old woman). She shows me forms (the animal / furniture combinations) that point me to the realization that I can be relaxed (as if on a sofa) with my physical self (the animal). Yes, we are physical beings and subject to all the woes of the flesh, including our own deaths, but my soul tells me I will find my own way of putting these apparently opposing forces, the animate and the inanimate, together in a way that will be comfortable. This part of me is on dangerous ground, standing on edge, maybe about to go over—but she doesn't. She shows me the unfinished business I have yet to complete, and she assures me that I can handle it, heavy though the task may be.

The boss, a controlling part of myself that is very demanding and wants to expand his domain, reluctantly allows my soul to express herself. She does so with gusto, and I affirm her action.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

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!”

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Guest Dreamer: I'll Walk a Mile in Your Shoes


Guest Dreamer Travis Wernet recounts the second dream in his shoe series:
Travis' Second Dream: There's a second dream two days later with an old friend wearing clogs that are black and white and I am hovering above the ground when we meet each other and he says how happy and different I look (with glasses) and I comment on how his shoes look good on him - he's not the sort I imagine would wear 'effeminate' shoes like clogs in waking life, they're not 'guy-like' enough for my conception of him.

Carla's thoughts: The second pair of shoes shows up in a second dream two days after the initial shoe dream. There are 3 sets of 2's here, emphasizing that I'm resolving pairs of opposites. My friend is wearing clogs, a style of shoe that I see as effeminate and wouldn't have associated with this manly friend. That these clogs are black and white tells me that I tend to see this particular issue without nuance—no shades of gray. I'm flying high when we meet—perhaps I'm not being realistic since I don't have my feet on the ground, but nevertheless my friend tells me how good I look in glasses: I'm beginning to see something clearly, and I like it (it looks good, even if it didn't line up with my expectations). The part of me this friend represents is now willing to “walk a mile” in a woman's shoes. I have a better understanding with my anima and women as a result, and I've relinquished some of my conceptions of what being manly means.



Sunday, August 5, 2012

Guest Dream: Knitting Myself Together



Today' guest dreamer is Robin Whitmore, who also records and illustrates his dreams at Robin's Dream Diary. I'll respond to his dream as if it were my own. The dreamer always gets the last word, so please look at the comments following the dream for Robin's take.

Robin's Dream: I am in a huge builders merchants' yard. Workmen are milling around, busy on an important task - something has to be found out, uncovered. I pick up a plastic bag with plumbing connections in it."Leave them alone," I am told, "don't want you meddling with that." I just seem to be in the way.

Then I find a stack of old papers, all in handwriting that is not easy to decipher. It goes back years. I am convinced this has the answer to everything the men are searching for and I say to one of them,"Let me look through these, I am sure I will find the truth here." The men are a bit dismissive, they don't share my conviction but they are happy for me to take this dusty heap away. As I start to look through it my heart sinks, there is so much there and it's really hard to read, I'll never get anywhere.

Slowly I begin to sift through the paperwork, writing down each tiny detail. A woman (about 30-35 with long straight hair) sits with me. "Let's work out what this is all about. Someone's life is at stake- its about someone's life, a record." (I see an image of Beachy Head cliffs.) The documents seem to be about this woman.

Now I find pictures and objects within this pile of papers- there are three knitting needles, maybe 2'6"long, and they are covered in knitted wool in soft,"feminine" pastel shades of flame. The needles remind me of bullfighting spikes or spears or something to do with electricity like lightning rods.

"This was the beginning - one of many projects that never led anywhere." The woman laughs and admits it was another fruitless project. (Am I slightly contemptuous of her? Do I think she doesn't have it in her to create anything deep, anything meaningful?)

There are receipts in this collection. She must have been working, she must have earnt this - sums like £320 and another for a bit less. Modest sums. "Is there a date?" I ask the woman. We look and I arrange them in order.

The pictures I find are black and white newspaper cuttings collaged together and now a heap of old sepia family photos that I drop on the stone floor. I try to pick them up in order but muddle them a bit - never mind, I should be able to sort them out.

I am annoyed that I wake up before the puzzle is solved. There are pages of this novel, for that is what it is, that are maybe in german or russian. (So many times I start a book only to give up because the language is too hard.) This will be difficult language to decode but I know I can and must do it.

Carla's thoughts: This is a very complex dream, and I'm not going to pretend that I can unravel it without help from the dreamer. I have no way of knowing the allusions to Robin's waking life that play out  in this dream, so I will leave it to him to decipher those. Nevertheless, I hope my reactions will help Robin look at his dream with fresh eyes. For me (taking on the dreamer's masculine sex as I look at his dream), the dream is about coming to terms with my anima, a Jungian term for the woman who lives in every man.

The first paragraph of the dream sets the stage: I am working on uncovering a long forgotten aspect of myself. What is to emerge is connected to an unconscious process (the plumbing connections) that I have not recognized as authentic; these deep (we plumb the depths, after all) connections are covered in plastic, a material almost synonymous with phoney. The workmen have an ambivalent role. On the one hand, these manly men (and what's more masculine than a workman in a builder's yard?) are the masculine force in search of its feminine counterpart, and they don't want me to stand in their way. On the other hand, by not allowing me to help, they are obstructing the process. It's not unusual for dreams to have things two different ways simultaneously; after all, if there were no inner conflict we probably wouldn't be having the dream.

The second paragraph introduces a mini resolution, a first step on my way to a kind of internal integration: the men who didn't want me looking into things a moment ago are now ready to accept my help, and I know that I've been given access to the materials that will allow me to uncover the truth. I find out that something buried in the past is responsible for repressing what the the dream is trying to free. Did I keep a handwritten (or drawn) journal at some point in my youth? If so, the dream might be trying to get me to take a look at this time, a period when psychic events occurred that I am still having trouble understanding (the old papers that are hard to read, hard to decipher).

I need to think about the woman who is 30 to 35 years old. Who or what does she represent? Does the woman's long straight hair belong to an actual person or does it stand in for abstract qualities? For example, hair, coming out of the head as it does, can symbolize thoughts. Does this character's straight hair represent straight (and narrow) thoughts? In that case, since every part of my dream reflects some part of me, I am looking at my own straight and narrow thoughts. The woman symbolizes my own inner woman, and the dream is about my attempt to integrate her into my psyche. (Is the dreamer 30 to 35 at the time of this dream?) The men who are dismissive reflect a typical masculine reaction to women, and the dream makes it clear that I share these feelings. Did I let this cultural bias divorce me from my anima who is, in Jungian terms, the source of my spiritual self? In the past Beachy Head cliffs was known for its high number of suicides. By introducing this image my dream is pointing out—rather melodramatically in the way of dreams--how my anima feels about the issue: ("Let's work out what this is all about. Someone's life is at stake- its about someone's life, a record.") The life that is at stake is the inner life of an important part of me.

The knitting needles present a conjunctio, a marriage of opposites: a positive development in this conjoining of the masculine and feminine within my pysche. Knitting needles are associated with a feminine activity, and their function as a feminine symbol is reinforced by their feminine colored covering in the dream. At the same time, the dreamer tells us that “the needles remind me of bullfighting spikes or spears or something to do with electricity like lightning rods,” all very masculine symbols. Put together, these divergent symbols and the flame (enlightenment) that covers them represent the spiritual truth I've been searching for. The project that never led anywhere was my attempt to integrate these two seemingly irreconcilable aspects of myself.

The contempt that I express toward this anima figure encapsulates my dilemma: As an artist, I need to be on excellent terms with my anima! If Jung is right, then she represents the wellspring (there are those plumbing connections again) of my creativity. And yet—that is what I don't trust her to do. I question whether she can “create anything deep, anything meaningful?

That she has earned some money signifies that I have begun to give her some of the credit that is her due. Not too much; the sums are modest. But at least I've been able to move from seeing everything in black and white to a more nuanced sepia. I'm still confused (I've muddled the picture) and frustrated by the novel (new) and incomprehensible (in a foreign language) puzzle, but I think I'll be able to sort it out. I've made an important beginning with this dream.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

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. 

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Guest Dreamer: I Can Bear It



Today’s guest dreamer is David Ward-Nanney whose recently released novel, Powder Dreams, uses dream analysis as a narrative device. David has given us his own interpretation of the dream’s meaning. Before I read it, I’ll react to his dream as if it were one of mine in the hope that it might provide an insight he hasn’t already thought of. As always, the dreamer gets the last word, and if we differ, his interpretation is the correct one.

The Dream: The house is an entirely open plan with lots of space and floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows allow plenty of natural light throughout. I am on the first floor in front of a staircase that leads to the second floor. To my left I see an unidentifiable woman and man, both about my age and socioeconomic level. I know instinctively that the man is a friend and the woman is a beloved. I go up the stairs and remember something that makes me go back downstairs. The man and the woman are gone and I see through the back window why. There is a giant grizzly bear on his hind legs looking into the house from outside. My first thought is thank God the others got away safely. I try to make my escape upstairs but the bear is now inside the house and grabs my ankles, preventing me from going up. He says, “Hold on. Not so fast.” He lets go and I immediately make a dash for the front door. I make it through the door and onto the front porch when he again grabs me by the ankles and drags me back in. This time he says, “You can’t get away and there’s no need to.” While I am frightened I am also cognizant that this bear does not necessarily want to eat me.

Carla
: The house represents me; its spaciousness and large windows tell me that I am an open person with a good relationship to the world outside my window; light can come in, and I can see out. The woman and man who rather closely resemble me represent the rational and spiritual aspects of my inner self. I am at peace with these: the man is a friend and the woman beloved. But when I go “downstairs,” leaving the safety of my intellect and higher consciousness, they disappear.

Why do I go downstairs (into my unconscious)? Because there’s something I need to remember, or get in touch with, that’s important for my health and wholeness. Once there I find my supporting friends gone, and I must face a frightening and deadly beast (my own emotions, passions, my inner “animal”) without their help. I don’t realize it at the time, but it’s necessary for my conscious, rational, “higher” part to disappear temporarily; it would only hinder the integration about to take place. However, knowing that my civilized self is in a safe place reassures me, giving me courage for what’s to come.

The dream’s revelation comes during my terrifying confrontation with the bear when he says to me, “You can’t get away and there’s no need to.” Once I realize that I can’t escape my inner animal—and, more important--there’s no need to, I have made a stride toward accepting this essential part of myself. I am still afraid, but I now know that I will not be consumed (eaten) by my feelings and passions.

David’s Interpretation: Grizzly bears are fierce hunters and gatherers and are thus able to not only survive but thrive in a global environment that has marked the polar bear for extinction. The bear is an emblem or symbol of the warrior caste. This fierce side of me is repeatedly baring its ugly head, but the dream is telling me that caution not terror is the right approach and that I cannot escape it. The bear definitely scares off both the anima and friend archetypes, leaving me to deal with him alone.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Guest Dreamer: First Encounter


Today’s Guest Dreamer is Arcadian, who recounts a powerful dream he had as a youth.

The Dream: I had a truly bizarre dream once and I'm baffled as to its meaning. When I was a youngster I dreamed I was in a treasure room and there were valuables of every kind piled up in a pyramid-shaped stack. As I stood and admired the wonder of it all, the most beautiful blond-haired girl, robed in splendor, appeared--standing at the very top and glaring at me.

I told her how amazing the pile was. She lifted an arm and pointed a finger at me, out of which shot a bright beam and I feared for my life. Before the beam reached me I felt myself moving at lightning speed and the next thing I knew I could feel myself returning to my body.

Interpretation:
Arcadian has asked me to interpret his dream. As my regular readers know (sorry for being repetitious, regular readers), I follow the guidelines of projective dream groups when I comment on someone else’s dream. In other words, I take on the dream as if it were my own, and tell you what it would mean to me if I had dreamed it. This may or may not be relevant to Arcadian; but perhaps it will spur him to think of his dream in a new light. And of course I hope he will leave us his thoughts after he has read what I’ve written.

In my version of Arcadian’s dream, I feel that I am encountering the figure Carl Jung called the Anima, which represents my soul. First I see a great treasure stacked into the form of a pyramid. The treasure represents spiritual enlightenment, much as the gold on an icon represents divine radiance.  Pyramids (like church steeples) are symbolic mountains, and many religious traditions associate gods or divine wisdom with mountain tops: for example, Zeus and the Greek gods lived on Mount Olympus, and Moses went up a mountain to receive the 10 Commandments. My own personal spiritual truth is embodied in my soul, represented by a beautiful blond-haired girl, robed as a goddess would be, in splendor.

She glares at me, challenging me. I tell her I am amazed by the treasure she seems to guard. I am young, and not ready to grapple with the intensity of my own spiritual truth. Her light (revelation or truth) is too bright for me. I return to the more earthly, material state of my body. But I know from this encounter that my soul is a beautiful and fierce thing, and when the time is right for me to see her again I will not be frightened.

Here is how Jung describes his first encounter with his own Anima: “I spoke to a loving soul and as I drew nearer to her, I was overcome by horror, and I leaped up a wall of doubt, and did not anticipate that I thus wanted to protect myself from my fearful soul.” *
* C.G. Jung, The Red Book Liber Novus, edited by Sonu Shamdasani, translated by Mark Kyburz, John Peck, and Sonu Shamdasani, (New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company, 2009), 235.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Touch, not Sight


The Dream: Coming down a steep staircase I close my eyes and run my hands along the surrounding walls, which function as a banister might. I navigate by touch, not sight. I feel that Clark is guiding me, and I can just about conquer my fear by not looking.

Interpretation: In order to experience the deeper levels of my psyche (get to the bottom of the staircase) I must rely on feeling (touch) not intellect (sight). Here Clark represents what Jung calls my animus, the part of a woman that copes with the outside (male-dominated) world. I'm up against the wall, so to speak. Will I get past the ban(ister)?

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

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.