A Blond, A Baby, and a Joint

The Dream: A platinum blond woman has a new baby. I am wondering about her age: I would have thought she was as old as I—but the baby proves she's younger. I think her platinum blond hair is so close to gray in color that she might as well let it go gray. She is very petite and superficial, reminding me of someone who might work in real estate. She is very judgmental over superficial things. To show off how petite she is, she sits with her baby in a baby car seat.

Somewhere in all of this is an artist. I'm not sure whether it's her, a friend of mine (I think that's it) or me. But everything about the blond is done with style, so it seems she would appreciate this artist, whose work is hip and stylish.

I decide, in light of having this done-up creature around, that I'd better put on some eyebrows. My brothers think this would be interesting to watch, and they peer at me as I apply the eyebrow powder. I get the impression that Nick has smoked a marijuana joint. I'm surprised. Nick has always impressed me as very straight. Greg says, “You'd better watch it; you'll get Dad in trouble.” He's alluding to our father's security clearance.

Interpretation: Dreams can tell us many things, but one thing this dream is telling me is that I think I'm superficial. And I have this to say to my dream:

You say I'm superficial:
I won't deny it.
I'm not the diamond, but its sparkle.
I'm not the ocean, but its glinting.
I'm not the cave, but its hand prints.  

Play with me.

Who Has Come Back?

The Dream: I am in a bedroom. I look into a mirror and see a smudge of a little girl I thought had gone. I turn to the left and, standing next to the bed I see the girl, very pretty with blond curls, smiling at me. “Katie!” I say, astonished. I feel both surprised and scared, as if seeing someone who had returned from the dead.

Interpretation: I had been looking back over past “baby” dreams from a year ago. What does this small, childish, nearly gone, hard to see (smudge in the mirror) part of myself represent? The curls remind me of age 7, a time when I was out-spoken, before self-control--or repression, or conformity--took over. I see her in the mirror (she mirrors me; she is me). Am I still afraid of her uncensored reaction to life? Even if I am, I'm glad she isn't dead.

I Don't Get It; Or Do I?

The Dream: I'm in my studio. A woman, a teacher, comes in. She is youngish, about 35 to 40, slim, blonde, curly hair. She is an attractive woman but seems middle-of-the-road, not too interesting. Yet she gets to make decisions about whose art is seen.

She lets me know that my art has been under consideration for some time. “On the one hand, you get it,” she says. “On the other, you don't.” I try to figure out what she means by this enigmatic statement. She lets me know that the judges were somewhat encouraged when I did a piece that seemed to support the police. Unlike, she said, most of my work. I am confused. I have nothing against the police. She lets me know that they consider my skill level impressive but don't care for my subject matter. In a way I'm encouraged by this: she and the “panel” seem so much a part of the mediocre herd that I think it's probably a good sign if they don't care for what I do. I think the day will come when my work will be appreciated. In a way I'm relieved that it is unusual enough to cause these “judges” difficulty.

Interpretation: Was this dream the result of going to a quilt show and perhaps feeling at an unconscious level that the work was beautifully executed but lacking in a higher purpose? Is this what I think, or fear, about my own work? There is certainly a parallel between quilting and my egg tempera painting—both require meticulous attention to craft. The police metaphor refers to the self discipline that this sort of work requires, and it seems the dream underlines some not too surprising ambivalence toward it. In the end I accept, even welcome, the place where I am.

Conversation with My Cousin

The Dream: Cousin Sandra looks ill. Her drawn and suffering face is topped by a slightly curly, dirty blonde wig. She is saying that she had thought my father was the nice one (our fathers were siblings) until I informed her otherwise. I want to correct this impression I've left her with. I try to tell her that he was, indeed, a wonderful man—but she doesn't hear me. I can't seem to get her attention.

Interpretation: Sandra represents the part of myself that suffered childhood hurts, is still suffering from them, and thinks, therefore, that Dad is not nice. The dream points out, first of all, that these thoughts are not accurate: hair represents thoughts; my Sandra hair is phony (a wig). In addition, its bright color (blonde), symbolizing illumination, is obscured by being “dirty.” In other words, while I could be thinking something that would shed some light on the subject, I'm not. This is my first clue that I need to update my inner child's way of looking at things. My inner adult, the part played by the dream ego, sees life in all its complexity and difficulty, and realizes what a good man Dad was. I want to give this realization to the sick “child” but can't get her attention. In the dream Sandra thinks poorly of her own father. This Sandra part of me is not willing, not yet, to relinquish this opinion of “the father.”

Getting to the Root of Things

The Dream: I look in the mirror and see that my hair is growing in very dark brown. About two-thirds is its current color, a sun-streaked dark blonde, and the third near the roots is a rich and shiny dark brown. I am surprised it isn't gray, although I do notice a few gray hairs—silver and shiny—mixed in. I try to decide if I should color it my customary blonde or let it grow in brown. I like it, but I wonder if a rich brown color will look phony on someone my age. I show it to the rest of the family to get their reaction.

Interpretation: I look at myself and see that something new and rich is pushing out of my head: I have a new way of thinking. It is flecked with experience (gray), but even this is shiny and exciting (silver). It will take a while for this transformation to take place: it's only one-third complete. Should I go forward? Or am I past it (too old for this)? What will my family think?

My Niche

The Dream: Clark and I, both dressed so eclectically that we resemble hobos, are walking in a foreign city. We are near a closed bank with an open foyer. I need to adjust the laces on my hiking shoes so I enter, park myself in a niche and get to work. Clark sits in another niche while he waits for me.

The tellers arrive: their work station is directly across from me. One young lady with short blond hair and glasses begins to make loud and unpleasant comments, saying I don’t belong here. I work on my shoes, determined to ignore her but nevertheless I feel uncomfortable. When I’m done I look for Clark, who I had thought was nearby silently supporting me by also refusing to move. However, I notice he has already high-tailed it, so I go outside to find him.

Interpretation: I wander in alien territory (a foreign city) with my animus (Clark). We don’t fit in here (we are dressed creatively but inappropriately). So—I’m out of place, and in some way I am stuck: my shoes, the things that enable me to stand on my own two feet and to move in comfort, need adjustment. I find my niche and attempt to fix the problem.

The blond teller represents someone I know in waking life who is very interested in making money from her talent, so she represents the part of me that would like to do the same. She tries to dislodge me from my comfortable niche, and I try to ignore her. My discomfort tells me that I’m not immune to her criticism. In other words, I live in a commercial world, and a part of me disdains my inner “artist” for failing to succeed financially.  The part of me that deals with the world in a practical way (my animus Clark) does not support my retreat to a comfortable but unprofitable niche. To integrate these two adverse factions (practical vs. artistic) I have to leave my comfort zone (the niche) and go outside.

Act

The Dream: A pale teenager with long straight blonde hair is in a theater production and is not happy with the way things are going. I tell her to say cheering things to herself and to pretend to enjoy it. I give her some examples, and I say, “You are an actress—Act!”

Interpretation: I feel that some aspect of my life has become a production, and I’m not happy about it. The dream points out that the part of me that isn’t handling the situation well is my inner teenager, and it suggests that I invoke some adult coping skills. One of these apparently is the “power of positive thinking.”

Guest Dreamer: Pulling Roots out of my Feet

I can think of no spiritual leader who has not warned of suffering along the path to enlightenment. Emily, who frequently contributes insightful comments to this blog, has given us a poignant dream about the difficulties that must be faced and overcome on a spiritual journey.

The Dream: I walk out of a building (I can't see it behind me, but I know I've left it) onto a wide, cement sidewalk. The tall wall of a building is on my left. I am barefoot. Suddenly I am aware of pain on the bottoms of my feet. I realize I am walking on shards of glass: small, colorful pieces are embedding themselves in the bottom of my feet! I can barely walk it hurts so much. Then, I am inside a room, sitting on a chair. I look at the bottom of my feet, and I see that I have roots, like slender tree roots, growing out from the bottom of my feet. I try to pull one out, and I realize it's deep in my leg, up the calf.  I don't pull it out.  A blonde woman watches me, I think somewhat approving of my actions.

Shift: It rains. Pours. In 2 separate incidents, a man and a woman have left their notebooks/binders in the rain. I rush out into the rain and pick them up and bring them inside as I don't want the rain to ruin them. The man is 30-40ish, tall, and thin. He doesn't appear to be grateful that I rescued his notebook from the rain. His notebook is stuffed with papers and notes. The thought crosses my mind that maybe the rain wouldn't have hurt the notebook after all....end

Carla’s interpretation: I’m leaving my structured way of being (the building) behind. The way ahead is opening up before me (it's wide), but also hard (cement). There’s some sort of unconscious block (the wall to my left). I am vulnerable (barefoot). My foray into this new world outside is risky; I feel pain. There’s something in my path that makes progress difficult and painful; small shards of colorful glass. Apparently I can’t get around my difficulty; I keep walking through this excruciating mess even though my progress is very slow because I am in so much pain. But my persistence is rewarded. I find myself sitting in a room, able to examine my vulnerability (the bare, painful feet).  I have roots. I have the potential to be grounded, to find my ground of being. At first I attempt to reject this possibility, but I realize it is too deeply a part of me to be pulled out. The part of me that is enlightened (woman with blonde hair) approves.

Now the rain can come, like an ancient blessing, over the notebooks of a man and a woman. For Jung, male and female together represent a coniunctio, opposites coming together into wholeness. I have, for many years, created notebooks of my dreams. I fear that all this water (so much unconscious material) pouring into my notebooks could ruin them. My stronger male side lets me know that rescue is not necessary. My unconscious material and the spiritual grounding I’ve accomplished by so carefully recording my dreams, and being brave enough to learn from them, are safe.

What’s Making My Head Hurt?

The Dream: I am in a large house. I hear my child crying out to me in distress. I don’t want to deal with her problem: I feel tired, but the insistence of her call provokes me to look for her. As I wander the hallways “in search of” I begin to feel distressed and worried, anxious to find her. A little panicky.

I find her in a room full of children, a primary school classroom. My child sits off to the left on a narrow table set at an oblique angle to the rest of the children, who sit quietly facing the front. She looks as I did at age seven, with blonde curly hair. There’s a big bandage across her head. She sees me, but does not acknowledge me. She wants no part of mother. I awaken as from a nightmare.

Interpretation: In the dream I have dark hair: I’ve become my mother. My child, with blonde hair (unlike my waking life daughter), is me. The well-behaved children who sit so quietly are passive receivers of instruction: cowed, proper, all alike, a nice row of good children. Something has whacked my (inner) child on the head, and she’s gained some independence, but at a cost. The adults who surround her are benign; she’s enjoying their attention as well as the empowerment that comes with rejecting her mother, who has arrived too late. Was age seven when I began to go my own way? To realize Mother can’t save me?

My Cup Runs Over

The Dream: I am at a church function, in a crowded hall filled with chairs and circular tables. The light level is dim; it is noisy and busy. I am in a long line of people waiting, cafeteria style, to get food. The person dispensing the food has the outgoing charm of a bartender. He is bright and shiny, with curly blond hair and angelic good looks. He is,in fact, the vicar. I’m aware that I think very highly of him.

When my turn comes I order a chicken sandwich. The vicar seems to work efficiently, but time goes by, and my food does not appear. After a while I see a tray near me and take it, soon realizing it’s not a chicken sandwich but has a small round quiche and some delicious looking salads. “Umm,” I think “this is clearly someone else’s, but it looks better than what I ordered so I’ll take it. I’m sure the other person will be able to sort it out.” I am feeling just that little bit uneasy about taking someone else’s food, which may have cost more than my chicken sandwich, but expediency wins the day, and I go on my way with my ill gotten gain, looking for a free table. I’m also looking forward to eating this delicious plate of food.

But wait! Now I notice that the lovely round quiche is half-eaten, with clear little bite marks where the rest of the quiche should be. I have someone’s half-eaten dinner. “Shall I eat it anyway?” I wonder. The thought of a stranger’s germs becomes too distasteful; I get back into the food line in order to exchange this meal for my chicken sandwich.

Anne Dyer

The Dream: I am sitting behind a woman with curly blond hair. I say something; she recognizes my voice and turns. It is Ann Dyer. She says she likes my short hair, but it is apparent we are evaluating each other, noticing if we’ve aged. We didn’t even recognize each other--at least not by sight, only by voice. 

Interpretation: Since hair comes out of the head, it can represent our thoughts. In this case the hair is blond, so the thoughts might represent a sort of enlightenment. The lady’s name, Ann Dyer, is the clue to the meaning of this dream. My mother’s name is Ann, and she has died. She likes my short hair; she’s trying to tell me that my thoughts are limited by my earthly status, but that’s okay. We struggle to recognize each other, as we now live in different dimensions. I can no longer see my mother; but her voice (my inner voice) remains.

My Inner Light

The Dream: I’m on a playground. A group of girls are playing basketball. At first I am accepted, but things change, and I am excluded. I don’t have anyone to practice with: their skills improve as mine deteriorate.

There is a girl with very bright blond bobbed hair. She is graceful and athletic, like a goddess in her charisma. She used to be my best friend, but now prefers another. I am upset and jealous, but then I wonder if the blond girl is a lesbian. Would I have been expected to accept a lover-relationship had we remained close friends? Her new girlfriend is very petite with should-length dark hair.

Interpretation: In the previous dream I failed to take the challenge my unconscious offered. Now I see the result: If I avoid the struggle I lose capability. We can’t stand still in this world. If we try, we fall into what Jung calls “undeveloped persistence.”

My inner goddess (the bright-haired girl), who should be leading me forward, deserts me. This representative of my inner light wants more love and devotion than I can muster at the moment. The part of me that is in touch with this inner light (the new girlfriend) is still tiny (very petite).

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.

A Bodice Ripper

Do you find that certain images recur over time in your dreams? There’s a force I’ve come to call my “inner Nazi” that appears and reappears. It’s oddly tacked on to the end of this long dream that starts more like a bodice ripper. I’ve broken this dream down into five segments.

Dream Scene 1: A young woman, certainly not a member of the nobility, marries a Viscount. The dream is set in a Nordic country; both the Viscount and the Lady are tall, very attractive, and blonde. Initially, the dream appears to be set in the 18th c, judging by the clothing. Panniers are not in evidence, but the clothing is long, bodices are tight, and undergarments are long, white, and ruffled. This might not be a love-match. The man wants an heir and is attracted to the woman’s beauty. The woman is making a large leap socially. Both are very concerned that the woman’s behavior should be correct and appropriate.

Interpretation: The roles characters take on in your dream represent your different abilities and weaknesses. In this dream I see a beautiful, naïve, undeveloped part of me (the lady) that is striving to unite with a stronger, noble part (the Viscount). My Lady aspect is socially uncomfortable and not sure how to behave. My Viscount aspect (Vis-count, I count!) is most likely an animus figure (a woman’s inner man) which needs unification with the Lady, symbolized by his desire for an heir.  At this point in the dream this is an uncomfortable marriage, a marriage of convenience. The tight bodice suggests I’m feeling restricted, which is further emphasized by concern over the woman’s behavior. Set in the past, the dream deals with a long-standing issue.

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

Statue of Liberty

Dreams often play on words, so it can be helpful to engage your crossword puzzle-solving skills when you try to decipher your dream.

 Dream Image: A woman with phony blonde hair is a statue similar to the Statue of Liberty. She is surrounded by water and in modern dress, a blue skirt and red top.

Interpretation: For me, the unconscious is “dumb” in the old-fashioned sense of the word, i.e. mute, so my dream presents it as a symbol of “dumb” in our culture: the dumb blonde. That I see her blonde hair as phony tells me she really can speak, but since she is a statue there’s the implication she can’t move. So I must be stuck. Or perhaps she is saying she can’t come to me, but I can go to her. She holds aloft a flame, signifying enlightenment. And she has taken the pose of the Statue of Liberty. She lifts her lamp to the liberation of the unconscious material (the water) surrounding her.

The Dumb Blonde

This dream has mythological roots echoing back to Venus emerging from the sea.

The Dream: A blonde woman has a partner who’s like an evil magician. I come across the two of them at the shore, in the water near some rocks. Her partner is trying to get her to stay under water for longer and longer periods of time. She doesn’t like this and finally gets out and walks away from him. I wonder if her partner had been trying to get her to kill herself.

I am pregnant.

Interpretation: The dumb blonde, the one who could not speak, refuses to exist solely in the unconscious, here symbolized—as it often is—by the sea. She walks out of the water, and a new potential life is conceived.

You Don’t Know Me

Look at the people who populate your dreams and see how they fit into your inner landscape.

The Dream: A friend of my older brother is visiting. She has blond curly hair and is slightly heavy-set with a round face. I like her and feel that she has become my friend as well.

My friend Patsy appears, coming up from the basement. She is pleased with herself for pulling off this surprise visit; her face is very expressive. “Patsy!” I exclaim, “What are you doing here?” She teases me about that ungracious welcome. Of course I am thrilled to see her and realize that I have been wondering how she is. She indicates that she simply decided to make the trip at the last minute. “I can go to the dentist here,” she says. I look forward to a few days of visiting and entertainment and am glad to notice that my compulsion to work, and my usual annoyance or resentment at being interrupted, are nowhere in evidence.

My brother’s friend is leaving, and I want to hug her. I say, “It’s been wonderful getting to know you better.” She says, enigmatically, “You don’t know me at all.”

Interpretation:  My older brother represents my authoritarian, competent part. His friend, since it is someone I don’t know in my waking life, represents my intuitive side. Her light colored hair tells me that she is symbolic of awareness or enlightenment. Another friend appears, unexpectedly, coming up from the basement (unconscious). Her remark about the dentist hints that she is associated with pain.

All aspects of my personality--the work-oriented, the intuitive, and the spontaneous—are coming together here. Patsy hints it won’t be all fun and games—there’s that worrisome trip to the dentist: that might indicate I have to work on something associated with my mouth, like what sometimes comes out of it. Nevertheless we’re all set to party, which sounds like one of Jung’s coniunctios.  At the same time I get a warning from the Enlightened One that lets me know I have work to do before I can call her a friend.