It Can Be Flushed

The Dream: I go to use a public toilet and am concerned about its condition. It's not terribly clean, but also not impossibly dirty. The lid is down and I open it, concerned I'll see an over-flowing mess. Instead I see several, 3, large ball-shaped turds lying quietly at the bottom of the bowl. I am relieved, thinking that this is an amount I can flush.

Interpretation: I had been reading Tony Crisp's thoughts on the toilet image in dreams. He said that a full toilet indicates there are things that need to be dealt with, released, so to speak. In this dream I anticipate there will be more than I can flush--that the toilet is clogged--but in fact it is manageable. It's not a tidy place I've come to, and certainly not one where I want to spend time, but it's not as bad as I had anticipated, either. Once I lift the lid on my difficulty I find I can flush it. Perhaps some unremembered dream from the night dealt with this necessary process in terms of the particular issue that needs flushing; in any case I hope that the unconscious will go forward with its own sort of resolution, whether or not I'm aware of it.

Our Lady of the Broom

The Dream: I'm in a house with two kitchens, both in need of cleaning. I'm feeling overwhelmed and don't know where to start. It finally occurs to me that I could hire some cleaners to help, that I don't have to put this right by myself. I talk to Clark about it, feeling I must persuade him, although I don't think he put up any resistance.

Interpretation: This is a dream grounded in the day-to-day. I had a lot of major home improvement projects going on and was concerned about doing them well and keeping to a budget. I have to persuade my practical side (Clark, representing my animus) that getting some help is a good idea, but the dream points out that even that part of me thinks it's a good idea. As von Franz once said, “I am my own difficulty.”

The two kitchens hint at something more, a conflict between different areas of life that need to be “fed.” As soon as I can get some things cleaned up I will regain some serenity. On the other hand, all this activity is stimulating and the double kitchens also point out that there are some major transformations taking place.

Time for My Own Vision

The Dream: I am subletting an artist friend’s apartment. The main room is square, and I’m very busy preparing food for a large group. A lot of clean-up work is generated. Some guests offer to help but I tell them not to; they have to go to work tomorrow and will need to get up early, whereas I can sleep late. Nevertheless I’m not happy being stuck with all this clean-up by myself.

A very large computer with many components is in the middle of the kitchen. It has a giant screen, of amazing clarity, on a moveable arm. I imagine watching movies on it. But the system is too big, and when we move it out of the kitchen the room is much nicer.

In the course of our rearrangement I discover an image that takes up most of one wall. It’s made of red clay, like the walls of a cave. In its center is a thick, waterfall-like seepage.  To the right is a recessed area: at first I think I’m seeing into outer space, as if the recess is a window into the universe. Later I’m not sure: it’s ambiguous. Am I looking at something near or far?

Interpretation: This dream further develops the theme of Relieved of Duty. In that dream I was determined to do a boring and impossible task, and in this dream I jump in to be helpful at a boring task and then feel taken advantage of. The computer (the rational mind) in the middle of the kitchen (a place where transformation takes place) needs to be moved before a more personal, deeper (cave-like) image can be revealed. While the rational mind shows us a very clear picture (its screen has amazing clarity), it’s also impersonal and external, like a movie I’m watching. The more personal image is only revealed once we get this contraption out of the way. The ambiguity of seeing something near and far at the same time tells me that what is “out there” is at the same time “in here.”

Not A Black Hole

The Dream: I’m cleaning the kitchen floor. I notice how much cleaner it is where I’ve mopped so I keep going, even though we have company. As I work across the floor a hole opens up in the middle of the room: a dark, earth-colored, earth-sided hole which descends to depths unknown.

I am alarmed and point this out to Clark. He reassures me that this is nothing to worry about, but I’m concerned that I could have fallen in at any time. He knew the hole was there all along but was not alarmed. He says that it wouldn’t be so disastrous if I did fall in, that it really isn’t so deep. “There’s a spiral staircase and an area with light,” he says. “It’s not a black hole.” I don’t buy it, although I do have a glimpse of what he’s talking about for a moment. Later I notice he’s put a table over the area.

Interpretation: Kitchens in dreams are often places where transformation takes place. I’m busy with a mundane task, cleaning the floor, when it seems I ought to be enjoying my guests. My task is interrupted by an unexpected event: a hole in the floor. On the one hand, this hole smacks of the grave, with its earth color and its scary descent to the unknown. On the other hand, Clark, who represents my other half, is very comfortable with what seems to me a major problem. Clark tells me there is something to be gained from descending into this unknown world; he tells me this is where I’ll find light (spiritual illumination). The spiral staircase he mentions evokes our nightly descent into the unconscious.
Something about this realm frightens me, although I have an inkling that what he says might be true. He does not insist, but “tables” the discussion. The hole (whole) remains, even if covered, awaiting the moment I’m brave enough to explore it.

Living at the Ritz

The Dream: Clark has bought a ski condo at the Ritz building in Manhattan. It is on Central Park South, facing the Park. Our condo is on a top floor and can be accessed only by going up ladders and through openings which look like holes in the ceiling. I find this method of access scary and cumbersome. Once I get up there, I wonder, how frightening will it be to come down?

When we finally get to our condo it’s very large, but dirty—stuffed with old furniture from previous occupants. It’s in need of a paint job, cleaning, clearing out. I’m not sure how this can be done, since there is no elevator and only a small entrance.

I’m in the lobby of the very fancy building, with uniformed doormen scurrying about. At first I feel quite classy for being a resident of such a place, but when I go outside to look at the building I see a marked change between the lower floors and the floor our condo is on. Our floor looks shabby, and it occurs to me that it must have been the servants’ quarters, which explains why it must be accessed with ladders.

I discover, however, that I can take the main staircase up to all but the very top floor. To get to the top I must still use a ladder, made of rope and hanging from the attic. I discover some workmen in the hall who are dealing with the mess upstairs, or attempting to.

Clark is quite pleased with the purchase of this condo, which he made without consulting me. He was uncharacteristically quick to buy it. When I reenter the condo, armed with my insight that it must originally have been the servants' area, I notice that, nevertheless, the ceilings are very high.

Interpretation: In my previous dream I faced my desire for wealth and fame; this dream takes the process forward. The part of me that deals with the world, what Jung calls my animus, is represented by Clark who has bought a ski condo at the top of the Ritz in Manhattan. That’s a pretty clear image of success! But the fly in the ointment soon emerges, as I discover the practical difficulties inherent in this success: it’s difficult to attain (must climb up ropes and go through hoops (holes) to get there, and once I do it’s messy and dirty. And was attaining this sort of success even my idea? The dream hints it isn’t, since my place is crammed with things from the past, put there by others.

To top it off, this success is a sham. My marvelous condo at the top of the Ritz looks shabby when I stand back and look at it, and I discover it once housed servants. But the situation is being worked on. Once my inner workmen clear out the debris left by others and I stop running after a version of success that is not true for me I start to notice the good things about where I am. The ceilings are, after all, impressively high.

Not Ready to Take the Plunge

As you work with your dreams, you might find they comment on the process of working with dreams—in other words, with the process of beginning to understand normally unconscious material.

The Dream: I’m at the gym, but it looks like a hotel room. I’m with my mother, and we have stopped in to have a bath. My mother bathes first, in a small bathroom with a shower curtained tub and a toilet. When I am ready for my turn, I notice she has left many towels rolled up in the tub. I start to remove them, looking for a place to put them. I run out of room and patience when I spot a beige and brown granite tub in the bedroom. It is rectangular in shape and shallow. I wonder if it’s clean. When I am ready to get in, the tub disappears.

Interpretation: This dream is about working out (I’m in the gym) a way to access unconscious material. While the action takes place in the gym it looks like a hotel, a temporary residence, hinting that I’m neither here nor there. We have come to this place to bathe: going into water symbolizes immersion into the unconscious. Even though I thought I was ready for the experience, difficulties show me I’m not.  First, my internalized “mother” places so many obstacles in the tub that I give up trying to remove them. Then I move on to the bedroom, where a font-like tub appears. Would immersion here be a sort of baptism into the realm of the unconscious? I’m not comfortable with this tub, finding it unclean, and it doesn’t trust me either: it disappears at the moment I’ve overcome my resistance to it.