Polly's Gift

The Dream: A birthday gift from Polly has arrived. She made me a book with an unusual format, very long and narrow. The cover is turquoise with black ink splatters. Inside, the book reveals elegant and very accomplished drawings in shades of gray. It displays such sophisticated talent and skill that I am both surprised and envious. I ask Polly if she has been taking art lessons and she says yes. The drawings are not realistic, but the well-informed figures are beautifully drawn, and each page is beautifully, and apparently effortlessly, designed. I'm very impressed, and I envy her talent.

Polly calls to see if I've received the book and says she's surprised it arrived so quickly, although she grouses about the delivery cost. When I tell Polly the book has arrived she says she'll be right over, and suddenly appears, even though she lives on the other side of the country. We sit next to each other on a sofa looking through the book. Meanwhile, one of my children has vomited onto the rug in front of us. I don't remember exactly how we react; I think we try to ignore it while being aware I'm going to have to clean it up, although I make no move to do so.

Interpretation: That the book is given to me on my birthday tells me that this dream is about a transformation (birth). A book is something that imparts knowledge, and because it is long and narrow the dream might telling me that I need to expand my outlook. The color turquoise is associated with intuition; the splattered ink tells me that there are some limitations (blots) on mine. When I look inside, the book shows me some work on a level I don't feel capable of. Do I need to look inside myself to discover what my true capabilities are? When Polly complains about what it cost to deliver this book she acknowledges the sustained effort it takes to accomplish something worthwhile.

As Polly (my inner artist) and I look through this book, a small part of myself (my child) expels some very strong feelings (vomits). That she vomits onto a rug, something that is walked on and also something traditionally connected to status, gives me some hints about what those feelings are about. In this case, the fact that I make no move to clean it up (to suppress the strong feelings) is a good thing. That might, in fact, be the birthday gift that my unconscious has given me.

Hit in the I

The Dream: I am rushing out of a building on the way to a dental appointment. There are some odd metal boxes, each with a drawer, in the lobby. I leave the building, picking up one of the boxes on my way out. As I'm going down the front steps, a Mexican girl comes running after me. I understand that she has left a book in the box. She is sitting on one of the steps and stretches out her hand to reach the drawer. As I turn, trying to make it easier for her to open the drawer, the corner of the box strikes her in the forehead. I am very sorry and apologize profusely. Here I was, trying to help, but instead I've hurt her.

We chat for a while and she accepts my apology. Then I realize the corner of the box hit her eye, not her forehead. The eye is red but doesn't appear to be damaged other than superficially. I am upset, but after a while I tire of feeling guilty. I begin to wonder if I had been wrong to apologize: would this open me to a lawsuit? “No,” I think. “The girl's too simple for that. Besides, she doesn't know my name.” I rush off for my dental appointment.

Interpretation: The earthier more basic part of me, as represented by the foreign (Mexican) girl wants an education—there's something she needs to know--(the book), and I (the ego) try to help her. In so doing a blow to the eye (I) occurs. So, as parts of the unconscious become educated, as they come to consciousness, difficulties and complexities are created for the conscious ego. I'm having trouble keeping things “in the box.” (The drawer slides out of its container.) The eye (I) is red (angry). I end up discounting this part of myself: she's too simple; she doesn't know who I am. I rush off for an appointment that never takes place.