Female Rituals

The Dream: I am at an elegant women's clothing shop, wearing an attractive black dress that I bought there. I tell the saleswoman that while I like this dress, it's too large. She looks for a smaller one, but not finding it comes back with a summery white and blue dress. I think this one will be too small, but I try it on and it fits, except that it's a little constricting in the underarm area. I think I might buy this dress as well as keep the one I had been planning to exchange.

Then I'm in my doctor's office. I'm asked to get my file. Do I remember how to retrieve these old-fashioned files—the ones stored in cabinets? I find I have no trouble and pull out a thick file with my name on it. I want to know what they've written about me. Am I allowed to look? I decide it is my right, and on top it says I'm pregnant. I'm surprised and mention it to the doctor. I tell him that I'm concerned because I've had no symptoms of pregnancy, no fatigue or morning sickness. Does this mean the baby won't be healthy, might not come to term? Then I remember I do have a slight upset stomach, but I'm not sure that qualifies as a sign of a healthy pregnancy.

Interpretation: I had been reading a book by Danica Anderson about the South Slavs and their ancient rituals and religion centered around women and birth. In the dream I perform the contemporary urban female rituals of shopping and going to the doctor. In my dream a potential birth is medicalized, no longer a woman-centered event. As a contemporary woman I go to an office and a doctor for childbirth and put my life story (the file) in the hands of impersonal medical technicians. No wonder one of the dresses I've bought is black and doesn't fit, and the other feels constricting. Can what is born of this situation possibly be healthy and survive?

Undercover Agents of Change

Art in dreams can stand for the process of self-discovery, and this dream points out how difficult that process can be.

The Dream: I have just killed someone, possibly because I didn't like her artwork. I see a large wooden palette with colors laid out; soft shades of blue green. I feel either superior or inferior to this artist: in any case her artwork makes me uncomfortable. I say “her” but it isn't completely clear now whether the artist is male or female. I kill him / her.

Then I discover the murder is justified because I'm a government agent, working underground, and this murder was part of my job. A woman and I are in it together, part of the fight against another regime. Suddenly I'm naked, and the two of us must hide or our mission will be discovered---or perhaps it already has been—and we'll be killed. We have some friends, part of the underground network, who are willing to hide us. First we're hidden under a large pile of fabric—under cover indeed! I'm wondering if the enemy will be able to discover us here. Then I hide alone, in a barn-like space, with bails of hay and an old car. It's very dark and again, I'm not sure I won't be discovered.

Interpretation: In this dream, killing the person whose art I don't like refers to a strong rejection of something that I am unconsciously trying to express. The blue green color hints that whatever it is makes me sad (blue), but also holds the key to my growth (green). The fact that I am working “underground” emphasizes that the conflict is unconscious. That I discover myself to be a government agent tells me that the conscious ego has been selected to dispatch the difficulty, but as the dream progresses it becomes clear that it can't. Just as I am the murderer I am also the victim: as soon as I kill the not-yet-integrated artist I become prey; it's as if I have supplanted the murdered artist. My conflict looms close to consciousness, and reinforcements in the form of a helper appear. I discover the issue is close to being exposed (I am naked). I try to hide from the very uncomfortable realization that's emerging  by going underground, undercover, yet again. At the end of the dream I'm still in the dark, the necessary integration has not occurred.

Guest Dreamer: Flushing the Blues

Today's guest dreamer is getting rid of the blues.
The Dream: I shove my blue jeans into a toilet--pressing them under the water. That's all there was to it! Nothing before and nothing afterward. I did feel shocked that this is what I was doing with my blue jeans.

Interpretation: If it were my dream: the toilet is a place of elimination. I am flushing (getting rid of) the blues (sadness). This sadness has been an integral part of me--it's in my genes (jeans). I have shoved this depressed part into a place in the unconscious (underwater) where it can be dealt with and eliminated. I'm surprised I could do this.

The Artist Within

One of the most difficult things artists do is to represent conflicting aspects of life simultaneously.
The Dream: I am at Hunky's house, but it doesn't look like her waking life house. It's one story with lots of off-shoots. Art is everywhere. Looking through the window I can see an outside wall, at an angle to the room I'm in, hung with primitive masks of heads painted in earth colors.

There is a very large studio in the back where Hunky is working. I comment on how much I like the way the art is displayed along the outside wall, and she tells me that her son has made the masks. They are hung as if no thought were given to their arrangement or spacing and yet . . . there has been. It's very sophisticated. Hunky says this is where her son hangs his work to dry as he churns it out; it's not a planned arrangement of paintings as in a gallery.

Hunky talks about her process: she puts down shapes and color and then responds to them. She works abstractly; her art is unplanned. She loses herself in the process. I think this must be enjoyable and that I'll have to try it, but then remind myself of the pig's breakfast I get whenever I attempt to work this way.

As Hunky talks about her work she shows me a piece she is starting. It has a large tear-drop shape in red lined with blue on the left side of the paper. Hunky will start with this and then move on. As she talks about her work she begins to look like an obsessed artist: her hair becomes messy, her clothes paint-stained. Clearly the only thing that exists for her is the moment of creation. I contrast this with my meticulous rendering in egg tempera, concluding I must be a lesser artist. Hunky talks about her two lives, or roles: one as a suburban matron responsible for creating a certain sort of living space for the family, and the other as a committed artist. As she talks I see Hunky split into two people, although I realize this isn't possible. Both are working at their very different jobs. One is tidy and organized and on top of the housewife job; the other is messy and focused completely on the art she's creating.

As I awakened I was dreaming about putting a wax finish on Pomona. The top of the painting had a pattern of water, and as I waxed it part of this pattern began to dissolve. I liked the softer effect but I didn't want it to dissolve to the point that it no longer existed.

Interpretation: Hunky's house (my house, where I live) is one story with lots of off-shoots. In other words, my life has a consistent theme that has been expressed in many different ways. Art is everywhere; that tells me it is the ground that nurtures the off-shoots. The primitive masks in earth colors reinforce the idea of art as something primal for me.

While Hunky's (my) studio is very large (the work takes up a lot of my psychic space), it has been relegated to the back of the building. Its location hints that, while the activity may be primal, its status is not. Although I like the work, not only has it been hung outside, with no thought given to its display, but another stand-in artist has appeared: Hunky's son. My inner artist is twice removed.

After showing me how I denigrate what I do, the dream goes on to show me what this inner artist (if not the waking life one) is capable of. First of all, the son artist churns out the work. Apparently he's so creative he doesn't have to give it a thought. Then he hangs it up any old way, and it looks marvelous. His mother tells me about how she works with total absorption.

As Hunky demonstrates her artistic fervor, a basic dilemma emerges, presaged by the teardrop in her painting. The problem? One most women face: how to balance life and work. The conflict is so strong that she (I) splits into two separate people. And then it becomes apparent that the dream has been talking about polarities from the start. Inside, outside; planning, spontaneity; thought, passion; tidy, messy. How do I reconcile these opposites?

The dream tells me to live with them. The pattern might begin to dissolve, and it will look better for it. But the structure will still be visible, only softened (more integrated).

The Indignities of Old Age

The Dream: Clark and I are in LA, going to see Clark's mother. When we get to our destination it is my mother we see, not his. She is incredibly old, tiny, and practically hairless. Clark keeps trying to get her to talk—she's lying curled up on a bed—and he wants her to get dressed so we can take her out. He is being kind, but I can feel the desperation in his voice. She seems more dead than alive, but she pulls herself out of bed saying, “I get enough exercise lurching around here.” When she “walks” she is bent over at a 90 degree angle.

She goes over to a nearby toilet and sits down, with no self-consciousness whatsoever. Her dark blue trousers are at her feet as she sits on the toilet. I go over to her. She laughs. She's laughing at finding herself in this ridiculous situation: elderly, frail, sitting on a toilet in front of others. It's a short burst of cognition. I put my arms around her and say, “You're a good sport; God bless you.” Then I feel myself ready to dissolve into tears.

Interpretation: This dream, like most dreams, is trying to come to terms with life's difficulties. In this case the problem is the inevitability of aging, of watching those we love diminish, and of making the connection that as they go so will we. The animus figure Clark wants to overcome the problem with practical action—get dressed, talk, go out: in other words, carry on. The desperation in his voice tells me that even he doesn't think these measures will work. It is the aging person herself, accepting the inevitable with humor and a dignity that transcends her situation, who shows the way.

Nature 's Way

All aspects of waking life affect dream life, including what we read or watch on television.

The Dream: We are outside. I see, off to the right, waves approaching. “This is the time of the black waves,” I say. The waves are blue toward the edges; their center goes from mid-night blue to black. At first I merely watch these interesting waves; then one very large one breaks over us all, drenching us (in our nice clothes) and lifting us out of our seats, moving us toward the shore. Will we stay safely on the shore or is this a tsunami? I’m not sure.

Interpretation: I had been reading M.Ester Harding’s book Psychic Energy the night before I had this dream. Speaking of nature, Harding says: “She is fecund and cruel. Her law works for the continuation of the race. The young are important as such, for they represent the next generation. Yet if many die, there are always more to replace them. As individuals they are of very little importance in the eyes of Mother Nature, who creates living creatures in great abundance and then destroys them all. For this is nature’s way.”*

In the dream I experience the terror and uncertainty of this grim reality.

*M. Ester Harding, Psychic Energy Its Source and Its Transformation, with a forward by C.G. Jung, Bollingen Series X, First Princeton/Bollingen Paperback Edition, 1973:192-193.

Much Ado About Nothing

The Dream: A crazy man, older, who looks like a World War II vet, is shooting 2 six guns outside a museum. I run for cover and cower among what look like archeological remains: pillars, columns, large stones, in the area across from the building. A woman holds me; she wears a blue jacket. Partially she holds me out of her own fear; partially to comfort me.

Interpretation: This is my terrified inner child, confronting the angry father of my early childhood. He is in front of a museum, a place where artifacts of the (my) past are stored. Mother and I cower among the old ruins, those ruined times of painful family interactions. Doing the illustration for this dream affected my understanding: what Dad shot off was his mouth. He was irascible, not mean or cruel, and yet he probably scared my gentle and somewhat timid mother as much as he scared me. I laughed when I finished the drawing; the silly image showed me our cringing overreaction to some irate words—which, in the final analysis, represented somebody blowing off some steam. Now that I can look at this anger with an adult perspective I can see there’s no longer reason to be frightened.

Blue Eyes

Dreams can acquaint us with thoughts we didn’t realize we had.

 Dream Image: A middle-aged woman with a round face, very big blue eyes, and fair hair.  She seems a little simple. She is compassionate in a child-like way.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by spending time with an acquaintance who could be described this way—although before the dream I doubt I would have thought of her in these terms. To go a little further with the dream I ask myself what part of me is a little simple? What is it I just don't get? Or, to put it another shade of meaning on it, is there something I'd like to have that I'm not getting? And am I "too simple" to realize it?

The woman's eyes are blue; the color hints that she's unhappy about something. Her hair is a reference to her thoughts: both come out of the head. Then there's the child aspect of the woman. Perhaps I'm not getting what I want because, like a child, I expect it to be given to me. My dream tells me to think about that. If I want something I need to go out and get it. There it is: "Get it?"

The Turquoise Box

The Dream: A turquoise box, filled with wriggling people.

Interpretation: This dream doesn’t seem to give us much to work with, just some shape and color. But in the end it has more to say than you might expect. When we dream of square shapes, like this turquoise box, Jung tells us that we have created a temenos, a safe psychic space for transformation. Turquoise, according to Tony Crisp, speaks of intuition and an expanding consciousness.  And what about the colors that create turquoise, blue and green? Blue is associated with religious feeling (the Virgin Mary wears blue for this reason) and new horizons (the vast blue sky).  Green is the color of growth.

The wiggling people? They must be all those inner selves trying to find their proper place in my psyche. There are enough positive symbols in this dream for me to think they might succeed.

Stormy Weather

Have you ever had a dream that feels otherworldly? Jung believed that dreams connect us to this mysterious realm.

The Dream: The weather descends like a spirit: erratic, tumultuous, capricious. There is a lot of rain and I wonder if all the people who have visitors—for it is the Christmas holiday season (even though the dream takes place in the spring)—are feeling the need to apologize and make excuses for the weather. “But isn’t it glorious?” I say.

At times the sky clears, and there is a patch of brilliant blue. At another time there is what looks like the stem of a funnel-shaped cloud, white, moving across the land. I am excited by, and enjoy, the quick changes and dramatic landscape.

Interpretation: This dream feels like a visitation from a divine spirit. The symbolism of the Christmas holiday, with its concept of the divine coming to earth, reinforces the feeling of the dream.

Snowy Owl

Jung teaches us that we create what he calls “imagos” of the people around us, and that these imagos are what we interact with. They might line up with the object (the actual person) or they might be way off base. (That explains a lot of unhappy relationships, doesn’t it?) In the following dream I interact with the imago of my dead mother, trying to warm her up and bring her back to life.

The Dream: I meet a woman I like at a convention. She mentions how much she likes a beautiful shade of light yellow, Alaskan Ivory. I want to give her a gift: a large comforter.  I know she is staying in a very cold place in the mountains and might need it. The only color comforter I can find is blue on one side and green on the other. The blanket is stitched in white running stitches, not too professionally executed. I’m not happy with the color but feel the pragmatic concern is more important.

The place where this woman is staying in the mountains is very beautiful and obscure. It can be reached by only one winding road. It’s dramatic and snow-covered—the image of a wintry owl comes to mind. The colors are moonlike. This is an isolated spot for serious nature enthusiasts: cold, lonely, beautiful, dramatic.

Interpretation: I am trying to come to terms with my mother’s death—I want to warm her up, but I realize she’s living is a cool, distant remote place. I want to comfort her (give her a comforter), and I am not happy that the only one I can come up with is in the cool colors of blue and green (it’s cold comfort). My dream offers me a transformed image of my mother:  a snowy owl, a beautiful spirit (bird) that is where she is meant to be in her own spiritual space (mountain top, moonlike colors).

Your Money or Your Life

Many who are interested in dreams are artists. If you are, I think you’ll find this dream relevant to the age-old artist’s conundrum: make art or make money.

The Dream: I go to an art supply outlet. It is an old-fashioned office in an industrial firm. The room is not at all glamorous, with beige file cabinets, clutter and a utilitarian wooden desk. Behind this desk sits a younger middle-aged woman (about 40). She is thick-set, has dark brown hair and wears horn-rimmed glasses. She is a little chubby, with a round face and in a very dull dark blue dress.

I give her a list of pigments and other art supplies that I would like to purchase. I realize I don’t have the money to pay for my supplies, which have amounted to $200.00. I ask if it is okay if I write her a check, and then ask my mother if the money is in the account: she might have to transfer some money.

I can see the woman is disapproving. She is wondering why I don’t earn my own money. I arrange that I will call her after I get my mother’s approval, and then she will send me the supplies. Since I have been a long-time customer I am annoyed that she didn’t trust me enough to let me take the art supplies home with me.

Interpretation: The short one: I’m not getting any credit! To elaborate: Some part of me is unsure if I have the right to color (the pigments). In this dream color represents an expressive outlet. My color is controlled by the rigid forces of practicality: industry, busy-ness, clutter (old unresolved stuff lying about). I can’t give myself any credit for the choice I’ve made or the work I do. As Oscar Wilde said, “All art is utterly useless.” I am dependent on my internalized “mother” for approval. Another part of me is disgusted with this dependence and thinks I should “earn my own money;” in other words, be my own source of affirmation.