I Can Do That With My Eyes Closed

Here's an idea: Sometimes the meaning of a dream that had seemed very obvious isn't the right one. It never hurts to try on the opposite interpretation of a dream, and see how it feels. When I did that with this dream, something interesting came to light.
The Dream: I'm driving a car from the back seat. I've dozed off for a moment. I awaken with a start, happy to realize that no one noticed my lapse. The road is pitch black, and I can't see anything but the opaque night. I don't know how fast I'm going, but I'm afraid I might be exceeding the speed limit. A father figure is sitting in the driver's seat blocking my view of the speedometer. I don't want to ask him about my speed because it might draw attention to my inadequacy. I'm surprised that I've stayed on course, even with my eyes closed. Later I understand that this particular route is not much used; it's only for people wanting to travel between distant places rather than for local transportation.

Interpretation: At first this dream struck me as very negative, and it's easy to see why. There's the black night too dark for vision to penetrate; I'm driving from the back seat and fall asleep. I'm afraid I will be judged. But wait a minute! After thinking of the dream's worst possible meaning, another way to look at it flashed into my mind: I may be in the dark, and it might not be obvious that I'm driving, but I am, and I mange to stay on course even if I make mistakes. This dream is telling me about a big psychic change in progress; the road I'm on is only used to travel long distances, to get to a different place. It's the road less traveled, and I'm getting there even if it's frustrating at times and even if I don't know how.

Parked in the Wrong Spot

The Dream: I am driving my convertible in Livermore, a nearby town. Its downtown is deserted, covered with a foot or so of snow. The car skids out of control and I almost hit a parked white truck, but it drives away right before I would have run into it. I leave downtown and find myself on a stretch of road that that resembles what you might see driving along the ocean. There's a sidewalk on one side with nothing beyond it. No sea in sight. My car slowly flips over.

I'm unhurt, mostly embarrassed, feeling as if I've done the wrong thing. Some fellows come over to help. We right the car and then easily push it to the side of the road.

I don't want to leave it there, unattended, and—having seen how easy it is to push—think that I'll push the car through the snowed-under downtown and then back to where the streets are clear. My first challenge is to maneuver the car out of the “parking spot” the guys have left it in. I think it would have been easier if they hadn't put the car here.

Interpretation: Everything seems to be wrong in this dream. I am driving a convertible that I'm unable to control in snowy weather. I have the wrong vehicle at the wrong time and in the wrong place. My well-meaning helpers make my goal, that of protecting my vehicle, more difficult. Yet once I give up “driving” I discover that “pushing” is not difficult. The implication is that I need a different way to approach my difficulty. And the dream is pointing out that others won't solve the problem for me; they are willing to help, but then it's up to me. If I want to avoid being stuck in a place that others have chosen for me, I'd better get out and push.

Guest Dreamer: Caged and Constricted

Guest Dreamer: Weird dream last night with a very strange man in it. He was taciturn, tall, of sallow complexion and said very little. I had apparently met him a couple of times but not got to know anything about him. Now he was coming to my house. He said, "I have a car but I don't like to take it anywhere". However, it appeared he was prepared to drive this to my house.

Then it seemed I was in his car and so was my daughter Diana, and she was grown up, not a little child as she so often is in dreams. We were driving to his house. I heard her saying, "Mum, there is a poster flapping about on the front of the car, about something that happened in 1931!" Then I opened my eyes, which I did not know were shut, and looked out along the bonnet, which was green and of a long, rectangular shape. I realized this was a vintage car, so I told Diana that the poster was meant to convey that the car was authentic. The bonnet was made of loose plates of metal that were not firmly attached, and were rattling and flapping about.

At the house it got even weirder. This house was built to his own design and we were walking down a narrow corridor which had cages built into the wall, floor to ceiling and stretching out either side. The cages were full of little animals, mice, hamsters, even some small cats, and there was mechanical apparatus - like toys and railways, connecting the cages and the animals were going on rides round and round. They were all silent, but had bright eyes and looked healthy. They were all dressed in exquisite small garments in bright colors - they even had hats and bonnets - all neat, clean and well washed. Since there were so many, I thought he must spend a great part of every day washing, ironing and dressing these creatures in clean clothes. I got the impression he was looking for a woman to do this for him, and then Diana told me, "He says he is into submissive sex, he wants a woman who will give up her free will and do whatever he says." I found this oddly fascinating - that was the end of the dream!

Carla's thoughts: This dream has some similar elements to a dream that Firequeen posted on this blog some time ago: Previous Dream  If it were my dream, I would first look at the similarities and differences between the two dreams. In the first dream I find the man very attractive; in this dream he's sallow and uncommunicative. In the first dream he has presented me with an exciting red car that he offers to teach me to drive, and in this one he doesn't even like to drive his own. If, as in the last dream, he represents the part of me that works and engages with the larger world (my animus), I'm fed up with that world at the moment! However, in this dream I think he represents something else.

My (inner) child and I leave the place where I live (my customary way of looking at things) and join this rather unattractive fellow en route to his house. The dream mentions the year 1931, so I need to puzzle out what that particular number means to me. Did something significant for my life happen that year? If not, I need to look at the number in a different way—for example, was my 1st, 9th, 3rd, or 19th year important in some way that influences me now? (The dreamer will have to mine her own associations to figure out what the number means to her.) Excavating its significance may be difficult for me, because it is something I have shut my eyes to without even realizing it. But they are open now.

The long rectangular shape of the bonnet makes me think of a coffin, but the fact that it is green, the color of new life, implies that the part of me that has died will be replaced with something new and vital. Vintage evokes something that has improved with age (my understanding, perhaps?), and once I become aware of this in the dream I know that my dream (the car, the vehicle) will take me to an authentic insight. The hard things I've had on my plate (the metal plates) are not firmly attached to my journey, and after they rattle and flap around for a while I expect they will shake loose.

Nevertheless, I still have this house—the one I don't inhabit—to contend with. My journey has lead me here, so what will I discover? The house was designed by someone else. The corridor is narrow, implying that the vision of my life as seen in this house not of my making is constricted. My animals, that is, my instincts and life force, have been caged. This confinement of the vital part of me goes back to childhood, to the time of toys and little trains. And trained I was: to be neat and tidy and clean. How much time have I spent since then trying to make my animal presentable (acceptable)? The rules of society are attached to the “father” archetype, and my inner child (my daughter) knows this. She points out that “the man” is looking for submission: Be a good little girl and don't make a mess! At this point in my life I am fascinated to discover the unconscious forces that have shaped my life and behavior.

Taking the Wrong Vehicle to Escape

The Unconscious experiences the vulnerability of women in this dream.
The Dream: Three couples are sharing a vacation rental. One of the husbands is charming and well-regarded, a very popular guy who is the mayor of his town. His attractive Asian / Indian wife bustles about attending the needs of the family. I'm cleaning up in the kitchen. It soon becomes apparent to me that the man is a pedophile who molests young boys, and that his wife is complicit in covering this up.

I'm on my way to the shopping center in a white rental car, and the man gets in with me. He's all charm, as usual. We park in a large garage and walk toward the supermarket, crossing a large parking lot. He makes a pass, and when I resist he gets ugly. He shows me a small closet near the market with its own door and tells me he intends to rent it and use it to seduce young boys. He grabs me—he's very strong—and I know he's planning to rape me. I tell him, in all sincerity, that my husband will kill him, but he couldn't care less about my threats. I holler for people to call the police. One woman says,“What are you making such a fuss about?—just go along with it!”

My shouting distracts him, and I manage to escape. When I run back to the garage I have a new problem: I am unable to find the car.  I don't even remember what it looks like. I am very frightened that the man will find me. It occurs to me that if I press one of the buttons on the key chain it will cause the car to beep. Sure enough, it works; I find a car, a long black station wagon. The seat seems to be in the right position, so even though I'm not sure this is the right car I take off. I become more and more concerned that it isn't my car: I notice the rear view mirror is not correctly aligned.

As I drive on one of the ramps I notice, barely, a woman in a wheel chair in front of my car. Despite my best effort to stop I can't, and I hit her. I jump out of the car, apologizing profusely. Luckily she was not injured.

I wonder if the police will stop me for stealing the car. Would they believe my story?—probably not. When I was in the altercation with the man I realized that most likely no one would believe it, and he would get away with all his crimes.

I go to a place in the garage where there's an office; a superintendent of something or other sits at a desk. A young woman with dark hair, foreign looking with a tear-stained face, has just reported her car stolen. She is the owner of the car I've taken. Realizing this I apologize, again profusely, and feel I can clear this up for her. I'm relieved to be able to do the right thing.

Interpretation: Some horrific current events triggered this dream. In the news was a woman executed by the Taliban—her husband delivering the fatal blow. Her crime? She had been abducted and raped. A football player on my local team had been accused of sexual assault, and NPR featured a program on rape. “How would I deal with such a situation?” my unconscious asked.

In the dream I am acutely aware that I have no physical defense, and my attempted verbal defense is useless as well. I experience the awful feeling of being over-powered. Luckily, I mange to flee.

The dream made me aware of the age-old difficulty that women have had in being believed when they report sexual predation. I realize that it is more than likely that no one would listen to me, sympathize, or even believe me. With that dream experience I think I came close to what victims of sexual assault feel. The man's reputation was such that he would not be questioned or suspected. There have been many accounts in the news lately of trusted figures who got away with atrocities for years: a beloved BBC host, Catholic priests, golf coaches, others like Sandusky, and so on. In the dream the man's position helps him to cover up his crimes; his own wife is an enabler. Society's point of view is reflected in the woman in the parking lost who tells me to get over it.

I do escape, but in doing so I come very close to harming other women. My car, once white, is now black and hearse like. I drive into one woman in a wheelchair and steal another's car. The metaphor is that although in waking life I've managed to “escape” these horrors, by turning a blind eye I hurt other, vulnerable women. I apologize for this in the dream, and hope to make things right. In reality, I wonder, what can do?

Who Did I Leave Behind?

The Dream: I'm about to get into a full car. My brother Greg sits in the spot I traditionally sat in as a child, behind my mother. There's no room for me, so I want Greg to scoot over, but instead he gets out of the car, leaving me to sit next to my friend Polly. Greg now appears to be a child, about 5 or 6, and he's happily playing with a spotlessly clean dog with white fluffy fur. I'm having a hard time seeing him and the dog from where I sit so I shift positions to get a better view.

The car pulls away, leaving the two of them, and I begin to realize this was a vision because I am now aware that Greg has died. I say to Polly, “Did you see Greg?”

“Yes,” she says. I get some comfort from realizing that others have seen him as well.

I want to verify this so I ask her what he looked like. “Like you,” she says. “He is small, with sandy-colored hair.”

“How old is he?” I ask. Has she seen him at a different age?

“About 18,” she says.

“No,” I say. “Greg is very tall, and has dark brown hair and dark skin.” I can't think of how to describe his skin color. It isn't olive, but it isn't fair like mine. “He is pale in the winter, but very dark in the summer. His eyes are very dark brown.”

I'm disappointed that we didn't see the same “Greg;” it takes away from the reality of the “event.”

Interpretation: After we die, what's left of us? I'm having a hard time seeing my brother now that he's gone. The divergent images in the minds of two dream characters imply that our “vision” of the departed is so personal that it might have no relationship to reality whatsoever. I look for comfort from my vision; I want “my” Greg to be real. I soon learn that what I see isn't what Polly sees: he differs in every way.

I've pushed Greg out of the car, in a sense. We, the living, have left him behind. He's no longer going where I'm going. His dog companion in the dream, representing my brother's animal (his earthly, physical self), is white (the original color of death) and idealized. Greg seems happy where he is.

Guest Dreamer: Coming Up

In Elizabeth's dream a lot has come up; let's take a look at it.

The Dream: I was in a large house (not my own, but I felt comfortable there), on a lake or sea (I'm not sure which-but it was large, calm, but vast). I was with several couples, whom I knew in the dream and felt at ease with but can't put names on most after awakening. I was there with a young, prepubescent boy, and in the dream I felt obligation to have an intimate/sexual relationship of sorts with this boy. I felt it was not right, and I remember thinking it would have to wait until he had matured, if ever. This young boy brought me a condom, the condom was different than one I'd ever seen, it was large and reusable, similar in ways to a female condom. I felt absolute in my decision to not be with him when he asked how it worked, even though I myself was unsure. I took the condom and walked out onto the deck, and hid it under a computer desk there. The group was outside quickly after, and a few of them were going out on the water to go fishing. The next thing I remember in the dream is a woman "swimming" back towards the dock (this woman I believed to be a very good friend's mother, someone I've known for 16 years-extremely wealthy family, I feel close to them, but distant in some ways as I've gotten older). Except, she wasn't exactly swimming, she was kind of shooting through the water at warp speed and popped up at the deck I was standing on. Following behind her were thousands or more fish, dead fish, floating on the top of the water and drawn to the deck almost as if by a magnet attached to this woman. I asked how they had fished, and somehow (I don't remember who told me or if I just knew) understood that they had used a method of fishing that was controversial, possibly illegal. It was a weapon that exploded under water but sent out shrapnel to catch all the fish in a several mile radius.

The next thing I remember in the dream was a barge of junk that had been uprooted from the deep sea in the fishing process. At the top of the clump of objects floating in the water were several old, classic cars. As the barge of junk approached the deck, everything was becoming coated in this whiteness. Almost like spray foam that insulates windows, but it was covering everything. As I noticed this whiteness covering the barge of things, I was walking across it. It had formed a sort of large boat. As I was walking across it, I met my father (my waking life father), and we were looking at the old cars, walking from each one to another. I remember thinking I'd like to preserve one for him, possibly with paper-mache. As I walked back onto the deck, I approached a man from the group holding a paper. I asked what it was, and he told me it was a map that he'd commissioned to be made, but it was a secret. He showed me the map, and explained that there were 3 hidden rooms under the sea, and he'd had enough information to work with a mapmaker to find the coordinates. The map had to be a secret, because he would have been in trouble with everyone else if they'd known he'd done this. Suddenly, the man was no longer there and I was holding the map. As I noticed all the other people around, I quickly went to hide the map under the same computer desk on the deck as before, except it was also now covered in the white foam like the barge of sea junk. I hid the map next to the condom I'd earlier hid there. And that is when I remember awaking in my bed, and I grabbed the journal feeling an urgent need to write it down, that there was significance to it. When I re-read what I'd written, I only remembered half, and I barely remember writing it. It felt as though I was in a half-waking space...

Carla's thoughts: As usual with guest dreams, I will think about Elizabeth's dream as if it were my own and hope that it will inspire her to look at the images carefully to ferret out their meaning for her. Only the dreamer can figure out what her dream means, and that's because the images in a dream can mean completely different things to different people. I'm afraid there's no getting around the hard work of figuring out your own dreams.

In my version of Elizabeth's dream, the house represents my Self, the totality of who I am. While I am comfortable in this Self, I don't feel it belongs to me. In other words, I have yet to get in touch with my authentic core. This dream is placing me on course to make that discovery.

The sea is a birth metaphor: my rebirth will take place here. However, as with most of the images in this dream, the sea has contradictory meanings. Yes, it is the place of my rebirth, but it is also the place that obscures the feelings and experiences that make that rebirth a difficult one.

The young boy represents a part of myself that I'm deeply ambivalent about. I feel obligated to integrate, or unite with (have sex with) this aspect of myself, but at the same time this assimilation is distasteful to me (I don't feel it's the right thing to do), and I'm not ready for it (he's not mature.) A condom is something that prevents the union of sperm and egg, and here it symbolizes the barrier to finding out what my union with this young part of myself would bring to fruition. I temporarily avoid the problem by going outside (At least I'm in the process of airing the issue) and placing the impediment (the condom) in my subconscious (under the computer, or thinking function).

The other people in this dream represent various aspects of myself. At times they are the parts that hold the views of a disapproving society, but some are ready to fish around for what's going on in my depths. A pivotal role is played by the woman who swims back to the dock. With her the ambivalence surfaces again: she is someone I am both close to and distant from. This tells me that the information she symbolizes is getting close to consciousness even though I might want to keep it at a distance. Her wealth symbolizes the immensity of my potential.

This process is moving too quickly for my comfort. (She shoots through the water.) She comes from below the surface, and what she brings up is scary and distasteful. Water represents the flow of emotion, and dead fish, according to Tony Crisp, can symbolize the “ non-expression of basic urges.” The magnetic quality of this woman emphasizes the duality of attraction and repulsion, the same ambivalence that we saw earlier with my feelings about my potential sexual union with the young boy. Again I see that something isn't right: the fish (the basic instincts) have been caught in a way that is not only controversial but possibly illegal.

What was murky is bubbling up into enlightenment (the foam with its white color). The underwater explosion that results in foamy whiteness is also evocative of a male orgasm. Cars represent our “drives.” The classic cars take me back to the past, perhaps to a time of my life when one of those drives, the one that results in a male orgasm, would have seemed to me an overwhelming thing that covers (obscures?) everything. I meet my father (the holder of the society's values) and we walk around looking at the cars (drives). Why do I want to give him a paper mache car? Am I trying to make sex drives less substantial, transforming them from the steel of a classic car to the kind of paper children use in craft projects? This hints that the child part of myself does not want to accept adult sexuality. Or perhaps it doesn't want to accept its own (the child's) awareness of that sexuality.

Then I meet the man with the secret map. He is the part of me that is sorting out these old secrets of my Psyche. There are 3 hidden rooms under the sea (in my unconscious). Again we have the unacceptable, the thing I think I'm not supposed to acknowledge. (The mapmaker would be in trouble if it were known he was giving me the route to this secret world.) The map, now covered in the white foam, is stored next to the condom. The various things that I've deemed unacceptable have been dredged up from my depths and are now in one place. I can take them out and look at them when I am ready to: I'm the one who's put them here. These things, hidden right under the computer desk (consciousness) are now very close to the surface. At some point I'll be comfortable taking them out into the fresh air of the deck.

The Little Dog

The Dream: I'm in the back seat of a car. Someone has gotten a new puppy. I pick it up; it is fluffy and looks like a Wheaten Terrier, except that it's black and white like a Border Collie. It is very sweet and adorable and I fall in love with it, realizing this is not in line with my usual coolness toward dogs.

Interpretation: I'm not in the driver's seat (I've lost some control), and this has enabled me to have a more comfortable and accepting relationship with my instincts (my inner animal: the little dog). These instincts might still seem black and white to my conscious self, but at least they've they've taken on a friendly aspect, and I like them.The motherly "herder" and the playful terrier have been combined, signalling  that some psychic integration has taken place.

Free the Baby

The Dream: We're on a mission to rescue a baby. I get her to crawl to me from behind a chained apartment door. I take her and run, but the others in the rescue group are ambivalent. They want to rescue to girl, but they are also afraid of the hooligans on the other side. When I get outside to the car, I want to get in and flee, but the group stalls just long enough for an officious, sleazy-looking lawyer to threaten us. I persist in taking the child, and Clark tells me the lawyer has photographed us; so I know the hooligans will come after us and kill us if they can.

Interpretation: This baby resides with hooligans, so I can guess that she shares their traits. She is the small part of me that doesn't want to behave. I'm determined to save this spontaneous part of myself, and I have no respect for the lawyer, representing morally suspect rules and convention, who tries to intimidate me. He's officious and sleazy. There's freedom in this direction, even if I have to keep looking over my shoulder.

Won A Million!

The Dream: I'm in a black, luxurious car, traveling along a forest road. I signal the driver to stop and pick up Clark. I'm sitting in the front seat. Clark starts to get into the back seat, but I tell him to get into the same seat I'm in. I sit on his lap (or vice versa), and I wonder if I'm making him too warm. We are very happy and excited, because we've just won a million dollars.

Interpretation: Black is the color of night, the time of dreams. It refers to an unknown and unaccepted part of myself. The car tells me that I'm en route to something, and the forest, with its earthy breath of mystery, evokes untamed nature. I'm now ready to experience what has been buried (in the dark). The fact that the car is luxurious and that I stop for my husband—not to mention all that lap-sitting and warmth—hints that the new growth has to do with close attachment, love, and sensuality. And that's a prize that's worth a million!

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.

The Scowler

The Dream: I'm in the backseat of a car. There's a very cute little boy sitting there as well. His mother doesn't have a child's safety seat for him so I wonder if I should hold him. There's also a little girl I hadn't noticed who, as I'm thinking about the boy, says, “Everyone thinks he's cute.” She protectively hands the boy forward to his mother.

Now that I've noticed the girl I take a better look at her. She's very unattractive: overweight, very white skin, hair pulled back tightly from a scowling face. She has short little bangs and is wearing a little princess tiara on her head. I suddenly realize that this unappealing little girl needs some attention. I ask to see her artwork. She brightens up and shows me what looks like some well done contour drawings. As I praise her she warms up and relaxes, telling me that she needs to “loosen up.” I think she's loose enough already.

Interpretation: As the dream begins it's clear I'm not in the driver's seat with whatever is going on right now. (I'm in the backseat.) One small part of me—the acceptable “cute” part—has been handed over to mother. This good child part belongs to her; in other words, he does what mother requires. Another part is not so attractive:she scowls and wants to rule (she wears a crown). But if I can recognize her for who she is and what she does (admire her work) she will be able to relax. When she says she wants to loosen up she is telling me that she wants to let go of her tendency to control things in ways that make her (me) tense. That I've recognized her in this dream enables this to happen: she's “loose enough already.”

Light at the End of the Tunnel

This dream exemplifies the importance of looking at a sequence of dreams: it answers the previous nightmare.

The Dream: I'm in a tunnel. There is a long line of traffic going slowly in the left lane. I follow along at first, then become impatient, wondering why I don't go around the other cars. I pull to the right and pass the other cars, coming into daylight.

Interpretation: In the previous dream, I was waiting for a train (on a fixed track) in a very black tunnel. It clearly wasn't going to take me where I needed to go. In this dream I'm in the driver's seat, controlling my own vehicle, and getting around an obstacle. Something unconscious (on the left) has been slowing me down; I pull to the right (the obstacle becomes conscious). I get past the block and see the light.

Who Am I Driving?

The Dream: I'm driving Clark to work. There are lots of traffic problems and difficulties. After I drop him off I have to get to my own work, and I'm not sure how to get there from his office. I wonder why he didn't take his own car.

Interpretation: I need to involve myself in my own work, and not become too involved in the distraction of driving my husband to do his.

Crossing My T's and Dotting My I's

The Dream: At a T junction a toddler breaks away from the group she's with and runs into the street. I am closest to the infant so I step into the street holding up my hand to stop the flow of cars. As I go after the baby I feel partially paralyzed: either because I'm concerned that I'll get hit by a car or because I can't move as fast as I think I should. In any case it's fast enough. I pick up the baby, who is safe, and return her to her parents who, I think, should have been watching over her more carefully.

Interpretation: As recent difficult life transitions visit my children in waking life I struggle with feelings of motherly inadequacy. Am I doing enough to save them? Are they okay on their own? The dream says I could have done more (moved faster to avert a looming problem) but it also says I've done enough. The baby is safe.

Guest Dreamer: A Man in My House

This dream is from Firequeen, who recently published Dream Diary of a White Witch.
As usual with dreams contributed to this blog, I will interpret Firequeen's dream as if it were one of my own

Firequeen's Dream: I dreamed I went to a large house where I met a man. I felt very drawn to this man and we sat and relaxed and talked a long time. We sat close together and I felt sexually attracted to him. He was talking in an authoritative way and said ‘We must get you a car, a red one’. I said that would be nice but I had never learned to drive. He said that was not a problem as he would teach me.

Then it was next morning but there was nothing in the dream concerning the night, where I had spent it, whether with this man or not. I was getting ready to leave the house to go to work, but it was filling up with other people who were all coming there to see the man or to do business with him. It seemed that he was an important person and some of what he did was directing films, so he had to see everyone and tell them what to do. He was very busy, with this and other things.

I began to feel left out of this side of his life, and wondered what was going on. When I wanted to speak to him it was not possible, he was too busy. Then someone unseen (or a Voice) told me that this was my house and that he was taking it over, and that I should not allow this to happen, it was foolish of me.

But inside I had this wonderful feeling like when you are tremendously in love and all you want is to be with the other person, and I knew this was worth anything, any sacrifice, because it is the most marvelous feeling in the world, which money can’t buy. And I woke up with the feeling, the urge, the longing for this person still with me, and I felt its full force.

And now I cannot even remember what it was like, I cannot call up the memory of that emotion. I only know I felt it once again, as I must have felt it in the past. Only it is long gone.

Carla's thoughts: In this dream the house represents me, and the man I meet there is a part of myself that I haven't integrated. Jung tells us that a sexual encounter in a dream can be a conjunctio, a coming together of two aspects of the Self that have been alienated. My attraction to this man indicates that I am getting ready to accept this strong, engaged, authoritative part of myself. When he offers me a vibrant red car, my animus is offering me a new zest for life. Since a car represents our way of negotiating the road of life, when I tell him that I have not learned to drive I am expressing my fear that I am unable to actuate my life. But this unrecognized part of me is not afraid at all; he will teach me.

In the second and third paragraphs of the dream I begin to see why I have resisted accepting this animus figure as part of myself. The man is very busy and must lead and direct a lot of people. If I completely accept this role, I feel that I am taking on a burdensome amount of responsibility. As I become so busy supervising others and working in the outside world (the realm of the animus) I feel I am losing the other part of myself, the the spiritual place where I customarily live. I don 't want the strong, directive part of me to take over at the expense of the more sensitive, intuitive part.

In spite of my conflicted feelings, my longing in the final paragraph of the dream tells me that I want to make room for this emerging part of me—the part that leads and is in charge, the part that enjoys driving the red car. My animus is generating excitement in me and uniting with him will give me renewed passion for life. With this dream my unconscious tells me that at this point in my life I am able to unify and balance what have been, until now, sparring aspects of my psyche.

My Child is Kidnapped

The Dream: My daughter and I are walking along a road that leads to the train station. The street and sidewalk are empty. A car draws near, an old-style sedan with a black landau top and a white body. The car is going slowly, near us, behaving oddly enough to make me slightly apprehensive. I look away for a moment and when I look back my daughter has disappeared. I stare into the car and see her in the front seat sitting between two severe-looking adults. The clearest one is an older woman with gray-black hair and a quiet demeanor. When I call 911 the operator tells me there is nothing the police can do. She suggests I go talk to the kidnappers, face to face.

Interpretation: Is my (inner) kid napping? Has she been stolen from me? On the other hand, I’m seeing the situation in black and white, no nuanced shades of gray; that hints that I might be operating under the influence of some simplistic, childish ideas that I’m unaware of. Who are they, these somber people in an old-fashioned car? Do I need to talk to (better understand) the forces that have taken my inner child? Clearly, I’m on my own with this one; the “authorities” cannot help.

Don’t Forget the Dogs

The Dream: I am about to go somewhere in a car when I remember the dogs, ranging in age from young adult to small puppy. I work to put them all in the trunk so they won’t be left behind. The larger dogs jump in, and I gently round up the smallest puppy, speaking soothingly as one cajoles a child.

Interpretation: In mythology, Cerberus is a multi-headed dog tasked with guarding the underworld. On my life journey (I’m going somewhere in a car) I would like to forget about the omnipresent reality of death, so I put this realization in the trunk (where I store my baggage). I sweet talk these creatures (the dogs of death), hoping to control them.

The Wall Flowers

The Dream: I’m in a car with some other people. At times I’m driving, at other times Clark. We come to an area surrounded by a wall covered with many beautiful flowers. The road is wooded and dense with vegetation, not like a forest, but like a suburban area that has been long established and become overgrown, yet beautiful. I ask what the wall surrounds, since something about the place seems familiar to me. I am told it’s a swimming pool; in fact it is the community pool near the house I lived in as a child. I am excited, saying, “I thought it looked familiar. I spent many hours here as a child.”  There are wide concrete steps, set at angles, going down from the pool to street level. The path meanders. I see it’s changed a lot. At some deep level I feel “activated,” but don’t stay to explore. I don’t go into the enclosed pool area.

Interpretation: The walled-off area and the pool represent the potential I had as a child, at the time of life when it seems all things are possible. But I am now like the suburban area, long established (overgrown) and changed from what I once was. The steps taking me down to reality (street level) are concrete, like the time that has past. Despite their concreteness, these steps meander. My path in life has meandered, and I can’t undo the (concrete) choices I’ve made.  Although the past can’t be changed, the way I perceive it has changed a lot. This subliminal realization is in some way exciting, but I don’t choose to explore it.

Living In Hampshire

The Dream: Clark and I own the rural and idyllic house we lived in when we were in England. I want to go back and stay for a long visit.  I wonder if I will be able to get groceries and whatever I need without having a car.  I think perhaps I can get some help from my neighbor, but then I remember she is probably elderly by now. I am also concerned with the fallout from the volcano. Is it affecting the country?

Interpretation: Dreams are almost always triggered by current events, including both those in our individual lives and those in the news. This one combines a conversation I had with my daughter about the ways Jamie Oliver has changed the British school lunch menu and the news—current at the time of this dream—of the powerful Icelandic volcano. The unconscious put these together with fond memories of four years in Hampshire and presented me with an idyllic home there. But the home is not without its dangers: I might not be able to get what I need (groceries) and an explosive force hovers. Looking at waking life, the difficult and demented aunt Clark and I are caring for might explode at any moment, and the ravages time has chiseled into her aged face make me aware of the precariousness of any sort of apparent stability. The neighbor who cannot help reflects the isolation we feel in dealing with this difficult situation.

The Frog and the Baby

The Dream: An earlier dream about a frog morphed into one about an adorable baby, whose diaper I’m having a lot of trouble changing. I mention to no one in particular that it was not such a problem when I had to change my own children.  The baby is very patient. By the time I get her clean diaper on I think she’s already wet herself again, but I don’t want to investigate that too far because I’d have to go through the trouble of another change. Her parent is going to take her someplace in a convertible, so I place her on the back seat, propped up like a papoose. Then I think better of it, fearing she might go flying out and come to harm. I suggest to the parent that we put her on the floor of the backseat. He comes to look to make sure the spot is a good one and that she will fit into it, and then concurs.

Interpretation: This dream is about some part of me that I don’t like becoming acceptable. The appearance of the frog tips the dream’s hand: in the fairy tale the despised frog turns into a prince. The nascent part of myself (the baby) presents me with some difficulties (she is hard to change), and I underline the difficulty when I comment that my own children were “not such a problem.” After a struggle I am successful in changing the baby, but the effect doesn’t last: she immediately wets herself. This tells me she represents a persistent part of my unconscious, and one that I would rather not take a look at. (I don’t want to investigate that too far.)

But one way or another, change is going to take place. A parent (male) arrives in a convertible (a car that converts, i.e., changes). I hand the newly emergent part of myself (the baby) off to this animus figure (the part of me that deals with the outside world). Both my animus and I seek to protect this newly formed, or discovered, part. However, as we protect her we also put her in the backseat, on the floor, where she can’t be seen--or get into trouble.

For a dream featuring a baby and a spider see Baby and Spider
For other dreams featuring frogs see My Inner Frog and Pass It On