Showing posts with label bathtub. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathtub. Show all posts

Sunday, March 6, 2016

The Synthesis


When a dream character's behavior seems baffling, it's a good idea to look at the person and ask yourself what part of you they might represent. Often you'll discover they represent those parts you don't acknowledge.
The Dream: I am visiting my friend Janet. I have some children but they are in the background, not the focus of attention. Janet dislikes children, and I know it. I'm using her sink. I notice for the first time that it is a very tall pipe that drips into a bathtub. The water turns on and off via a pull chain. I am surprised to see, in her modernist apartment, that she has a bathtub in what was once a kitchen and that she now uses this space as her living room. When I see it I become nostalgic for an apartment I left long ago that had a tub in the kitchen. I notice that the center of the room has an island with gas and water hook-ups for a kitchen, exposed, with no attempt at aesthetics.

The room is airy and spacious, with a large sofa off to the side. I suggest to Janet that she make this large room back into a kitchen and use the one off to the right, the current kitchen, for her sitting room.

The children, now dogs, come running through and spit up on Janet's throw pillows. She thinks it's a big job to remove the pillow cases for laundering. I am surprised that she is making such a fuss over such a small job. I start to help her and do it quickly and easily, thinking that she has no house-wife skills. I feel superior that I do.

Interpretation: Janet, a very intellectual and independent friend, represents those parts of me. In waking life as in the dream she has no patience for the maternal. She can't manage the unpredictable, messy parts of life. With her as my proxy, I reject the instinctual (the dogs) and the not-yet-formed (children) parts of myself. In the dream I suggest she move her creative center, as symbolized by the kitchen, to a larger space, once that is both plumbed to do the job and has a comfortable place to rest (the sofa). My way to grow is to use the skills I'm so proud of in the dream to move my psychic home to a new contemporary space.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

A Case From Long Ago


The Dream:
A delicate-featured professor with a bald pate like a tonsured monk is killing young women. Another woman and I become aware of it. The victims never suspect him—such a refined man, and a professor! They feel comfortable being alone with him, and then he kills them.

The man acts as if these killings are a personal tragedy for him, and at one point I see my friend embracing him and weeping, as if commiserating. My reaction, on the other hand, has been to be cool and withdrawn. I wonder if my friend's reaction is a ruse to keep the man from realizing her suspicions: a wise strategy, I decide. I resolve to go along with his phony emotions as well.

The man's packed suitcase is on the bed. The pink case is small, carry-aboard size, and hard sided, as cases used to be. As my friend watches I rifle through it, taking out the items, feeling as if I won't get away with this snooping. There are several sweaters and other items, probably trousers. I try to repack it as it was when I opened the case, but am unable to do so. This increases my anxiety that the man will figure out I've gone through his things.

We are in a bathroom. I'm in the tub, and my friend and I are chatting, exchanging information. The door knob turns; I thought it was locked, but soon discover it isn't as the man enters. I try to cover myself with a towel. I think my friend should have locked the door, and I'm frightened as well as embarrassed.

The man wants to indulge in his self-pity. He looks very doleful and tells us that as if he hadn't been through enough, someone has killed his dog. We both affect sympathy, still feeling it's best to hide our true feelings.

When he leaves I say to my friend, “I think I know how he disposes of the bodies.” I show her the tub drain; it's been chiseled away at the edges to make the hole bigger.

Interpretation: Some past dream images come together here: previous dreams contained a serial killer and a professor with a bald head. Clearly, the case has been re-opened, and I'm in the process of rearranging the contents of this particular complex. Something new has surfaced about these two characters, however, besides the fact that they've been combined into one. Now the man is effeminate, and at times it seems I'm complicit in his crime: one part of me (my woman friend) both embraces him and leaves the door open for him. This tells me my feminine side works with this unevolved masculine side of me to kill many parts of myself, to put them down the drain where they'll never be seen or heard again.

So—I have to ask myself, what's gone down the drain? What's draining me? Can I ever get rid of these self-imposed (at this point) limitations that are killing me? As I reopen the case I'm frightened but I don't discover much; all is very tidy. On the other hand, I'm not able to put things back as they were, and while this makes me uncomfortable it might be a good thing.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

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.