I Don't Like What I See Inside

The Dream: Melissa, the real estate agent who sold us our house, has a new home of her own with bay views in a very expensive part of San Francisco. It takes up most of a city block and looks like a hotel or an apartment building. Modernist in style, there are large windows here and there and some balconies, but overall it's dull and industrial looking with an unappealing blocky shape.

She and her husband were able to get this building site because they had influence with local politicians, and we discuss the sad fact that all the politicians are in somebody's pocket. In their own case, however, they are pleased to have so much influence and happy to let me know.

When Melissa sees me outside gaping at this enormous house she invites me in. The inside is as baroque as the outside is simple: complicated artifacts abound. They look very expensive but, for my taste, there are far too many. The first floor she takes me through is on the second story. It features a divan covered in a leopard print and elaborate ornaments, such as a large gold sun. I come to understand that this large, overstuffed room is dedicated to “treatment.” Her husband is some sort of a healer.

I'm disappointed in the interior of the house; it's disorganized and over-furnished. We go to other floors and they seem just as confusing, not what I would have wanted. At one point we go through a messy laundry room. I am surprised that so much of the housed is dedicated to work (the man's profession) and wonder if he has set things up this way as a tax write-off.

Interpretation: I've dedicated too much of my self (my house) to work. It has cost me. (It's expensive.) The things I've come up with (the furnishings) are overly elaborate and overstuffed. When I try for simplicity, on the other hand, I create sterility (the industrial quality of the house). The dream is dealing with something I've blocked (the city block; the blocky shape of the building). There is a disconnect of styles, and no overarching vision. All seems mired in the practical, and nothing is on any sort of elevated level: politicians are bought off. Yet—some sort of healing is taking place here nevertheless, and it is grounded in work (the man's profession: he is a healer) even if I'm afraid that it's too difficult (that is, over-taxing).  The dream is telling me to let the healing take place. Unlikely as it seems, the sun ornament will illuminate something for me when I'm ready to see it, and the leopard divan will allow me to rest in the instinctual.

Open Your Eyes

The Dream: I am in a truck. We are parked near the entrance to a gas station. A man in a red convertible pulls up, trying to enter, but we are blocking his way. As the backseat passenger I say, “Sorry, we can't move.” The driver is doing something outside at the pump. Then I realize I'm in the driver's seat, but I can't open my eyes. The vehicle begins to inch forward, and I'm panicking because I can't open my eyes or control the truck. I plead with Clark, sitting next to me, to help. He doesn't respond. I take my hands and pry open my eyes, with difficulty. I awaken.

Interpretation: The panicked pleading of this dream reminded me of a church service I attended  recently. I was struck by what seemed to me a kind of unctuous begging for some sort of help, for salvation, from the deity. It seemed that the idea behind the service was that if you asked enough times, desperately enough, maybe god would respond. In other words, I'm getting a lot of gas, hot air. So it's probably time for me to convert, to change from a backseat passenger to a driver. The dream tells me to open my eyes and take charge of where I'm going. It's time to find my own answers to the age old questions.

Flying or Falling?

The Dream: I am about to fly; I’m pushing off from a wall with my feet. I think, however, that it looks to those on the ground as if I might be about to kill myself.

Interpretation: As one part of me works to get beyond the block (push off from the wall) so that I can grow (fly), another part sees what I’m doing as reckless and dangerous—even self-destructive.  A future dream must resolve this conflict.

A Pound of Flesh

Dream image: A block of skin and fat has been removed from my body. Once the fat has been removed the skin will be replaced. But there’s a problem: there is no agreement as to how to excise the fat. A team of doctors debate whether it would be better to scrape it off or to melt it. No one knows quite what to do. There are other similar blocks placed in a row, but it seems these present no difficulties and can be dealt with using other methods.

Interpretation: As I try to cope with the difficulties of caring for an elderly relative in waking life, the dream tells me I feel as if someone has taken a piece of my hide. As much as I might like to block this unpleasant reality the required pound of flesh is extracted, and it doesn’t look as if I know how to get it back.

Something I Can’t Get Around

The Dream: I encounter a large, well-proportioned black man on a path. As we try to pass one another we perform a socially awkward dance: we each move in the direction the blocks the other. We do this several times. The man is tall, attractive, middle-aged, athletic, and looks strong. There is no threat in the encounter, only embarrassment that we can’t get around each other.

Interpretation: The dream is telling me that there is something I just can’t get around. I must encounter (and integrate) something that, while not threatening, is very different from the way I see myself; it’s symbolically opposite me in just about every way: height, race, sex. The dream hints that I may be on the way toward accepting this part of myself since I see this “other” as attractive.

Getting Around the Block

Like the dream of the mouse lady a few posts back, this dream features what Jung calls a shadow. Shadow figures represent parts of ourselves that we dislike and reject. It’s important that we get to know our shadows; otherwise there’s a danger that we will project them onto others—often with devastating results.

The Dream: There is an unsavory character who owns a shop in the city. I find his shop and then leave it by going North, then West, then South. I realize that I have lived without noticing what is on this block. There is much life, crowded storefronts, and I have passed them by without knowing what’s here. As I walk, noticing all the activity I had not previously seen, I also become aware that I can get back to the shop by continuing around the block—that I will come back to where I started. This is a revelation.

Interpretation: There’s a part of myself that I reject (the unsavory character). He’s central to something I don’t want to see or know (the block). Yet the dream tells me that not seeing (accepting) this part of myself has cut me off from “much life.” My journey around the block gives me a healing insight that feels like a revelation.  As in the plot of a classic myth or fairy tale, I come back to where I started, but the experience has changed me for the better.

A Work of Art

Have you ever had a dream that feels like a revelation? This is the first dream that I remember—not the first dream I ever had, but the first one to stay with me for the rest of my life.

The Dream: I am being led off to my execution. As they lead me away, a group of soldiers in khaki uniforms are chanting, “It’s important you enjoy what you’re doing. It’s important you enjoy what you’re doing.”
We come to the place of execution, a large chopping block covered with a black and white grid. I have the realization that when my head is chopped off, my red blood flowing over the black and white grid will create a work of art.

Interpretation: This dream came to me in my young adulthood: I had graduated university and was living on my own in a big city, working for a corporation and wondering what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was attracted to the arts but had not made the leap. In the dream, the forces of constraint and propriety and doing the practical thing are leading me off to my doom. They are also telling me what I need to do to survive: I need to enjoy what I’m doing. Life is not infinite. They tell me that easing up on my overly intellectual tendency (losing my head) and combining discipline and precision (the grid) with passion (the blood) will create a beautiful life: a work of art.

This short dream has also been interpreted by the well-known dream worker Jane Teresa Anderson in The Dream Show