The Rape

The Dream: A woman is friends with a man. We are living in a shared space. I leave them to go into another room. Soon I hear the woman screaming for me, horribly distressed. I find her in the bathroom. The toilet seat is up and she has immersed her bottom in the water, which is tinged with blood. It's clear to me that she has been raped by her “loving” friend. Shall I call 911?” I say. She doesn't answer. “I'll call 911,” I say, leaving her to look for a phone. This nightmare awakens me.

Interpretation: At the time of this dream I belonged to a book club sponsored by a Christian church. The meeting devolved into a discussion of the participants' personal beliefs. As I listened to others talk about “faith” and “belief” and “Christianity” I realized how alien I find these ideas. While the dream was triggered by media stories about rape, and certainly reflects the vulnerability that women face, the underlying issue for me is the rape of the intellect that I feel as a participant in a Christian group. I feel I'm not allowed to express my honest thoughts. This leaves me feeling my intellect (logical mind) has been raped; who I am (my self) denied.

All In It Together

The Dream: A woman has been tasked with beating a man who lies face down, prone. He is covered with a blanket, and she must beat him with a whip until his blood runs black. She is appalled at this thing she is doing, but does it anyway. The power that set her to her dismal task is Christian.

I am an onlooker, also horrified. At some point his blood does run black, and she begins to rail against Christianity for having one set of rules for its followers while the hierarchy behaves quite differently. She is very angry, but never questions her own acquiescence, in other words, why she did as she was told rather than follow her conscience.

Interpretation: First I'll look at some things that triggered this dream: At the time of the dream I was reading Eric Kandel's The Age of Insight, and was at the place where Freud analyzes one of his own dreams and feels it has pointed out that he has suppressed his own guilt, just as my dream beater does. This was around the time of the horrific terrorist shooting at a mall in Kenya, following close on the heels of a shooting by a mentally ill person of people at an American Navy installation.

I feel guilty when I hear about these, and other, world situations, as well as disappointment and anger that the country I was brought up to believe had some sort of moral superiority now appears as venal and self-serving as the rest of the world. In the dream, Christianity stands for bankrupt values and hypocrisy on a national scale, and I ponder my own guilt as a citizen, even though I, like the dream actor, go along with it and feel powerless to stop it. I feel forced, as she does, to participate in things I find morally reprehensible. The dream implies my guilt and asks me why I don't  stop.

Not an I (Eye) Surgeon

The Dream: There is an eye surgery nearby. The head doctor, who does laser surgery, is an affable phony. He's been friendly, so I go back to see him. He's in the middle of an operation. To get to him I have to walk all the way to the end of his facility, a long, narrow room. I see him working next to a large rectangular surgical table covered by a tray filled with blood. The smell puts me off, plus I can see he's busy, so I leave.

As I get to the front door one of his assistants, an officious nurse, points to a flimsy sign, folded over in a way that makes it unreadable, handwritten on lined school paper. The sign says, “Stay Out!” or “No Admittance.” She is judgmental in that quiet, huffy, offended way that some women have perfected. She says something like, “Didn't you see the sign?” as she slams and locks the door after me.

I feel guilty and ill at ease about having trespassed, even though I hadn't seen the sign. I worry that I will be the cause, or be blamed, if there's a difficulty with the eye operation.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by a guest dreamer post:  The Dream. I saw the dream as sexual, in some way connected to the dreamer's menses, related either to her actual father's reaction to her coming to womanhood or to the father as symbolic of the culture's values. I was concerned that the woman who offered the dream might be offended by my interpretation. My own dream tells me that I shouldn't go near the blood, that I am trespassing. Perhaps with this particular dream, I was “at the end of [my] facility;” in other words, either my comments were facile or I was out of my depth. And this could be true because, to avoid upsetting the dreamer, I did feel the need to soften my reaction to her dream. I see the doctor in my dream as a phony, but affable.

If I make a mistake with someone's “I” (eye) I leave myself open to a huffy, offended judgment. At least as far as that particular guest dream goes, my own psyche thinks it might have been better to see the writing on the wall (the sign) and “Stay out!”

Guest Dreamer: The Strange Case of the Blood Red Haematite and The Philosophers Stone

One of the mysterious things about dreams is how they help us to get to know ourselves. Openfoot’s training and education emphasized the scientific and rational—which is a good thing. On the other hand, it put him at a distance from his intuitive, feeling side—not such a good thing. In this dream he resolves these two often conflicting ways of perceiving the world. Openfoot, who has his own dream website, will tell us his interpretation of the dream, and I’ll add some comments afterward.

The Dream: I am in a long thin room, a lecture theatre perhaps or the gallery of a museum. It is furnished in a nineteenth century style. There is a lot of wooden panelling and wooden framed, glazed display cases. A group of men, of whom I am one, is in the room. We seem to be wearing period costume although it is perhaps a couple of hundred years older than the furniture and decoration in the room. I get the feeling that a meeting has just ended and we remain discussing the substance of the meeting in an informal way and just socialising.

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

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.