Something Stinks

Whether we're interacting with a cousin, a parent, a sibling, a partner, or a child, the past is not as buried as we'd sometimes like to think: it's important to look at how old feelings influence our relationships in the here and now.
The Dream: My cousin Barb is visiting. Clark and I are entertaining in the garden, full of brilliant orange and purple flowers. Barb sits with her back to the house, on the lowest level near the family room and kitchen. She looks up at an arrangement of tall flowers, stepped as if they were on a grandstand. To the right is the fountain, surrounded by flowers as tall as it is.

I am mixing with the guests and don't see much of Barb. When I do see her she says, “The garden is very beautiful, but there is a bad smell coming up from under the house.”

I am relieved that she approves of the garden; I had been worried that there were too many of the same flower, and perhaps the arrangement was not exactly graceful. At the same time I'm upset by her comment about the bad smell. “How could I have let her sit there?"  I wonder. I knew about that smell. Or did I? I think I did. I feel judged inadequate.

Later I see her drinking a large glass of red wine. She calls out to me to join her, and I tell her I'm about to, as soon as I find a glass. I call out to her: “The guys (our husbands and male friends) don't drink so we'll have to keep up the tradition of our fathers.” As I say this I'm a little concerned I'll descend into alcoholism.

Interpretation: Two recently watched mysteries triggered this dream about family. In the first, set in Italy, a very attractive priest/detective says that Jesus came not to judge but to save. In the first scene with my cousin I feel judged and inadequate. She mentions a smell coming from under the house, and that was triggered by the second mystery, British, with bodies buried in the basement of a family home. What bodies of our family members lie buried underneath and raise up stinks that appall us even today? What “remains” poison our current relationships?

Having acknowledged the stink of the past my cousin and I take communion: we have wine together, but even then I worry about the legacy of our fathers. Does this communion require we numb ourselves with alcohol? Or is the dream pointing out that I'm letting overblown worries get in the way of enjoying my time with my family?

The imagery of the dream is closely tied to burial rites. The brilliant flowers mask the dark reality of decay, and they point to new growth, a resurrection of the spirit.My cousin sits near both the family room and the kitchen, the first pointing to the issue (family), and the second to transformation (our new relationship).

Moving is a Lot of Work!

The Dream: We've moved to a new house: it's an old new house and needs a lot of work. It was expensive, but I'm afraid it doesn't look it. My cousin is coming to visit, and I wonder how she will react. I'm concerned that she won't realize how much the house cost. I also think about my old town, that it was dull and that this is a better place. I wonder if my cousin will prefer our other house, the one we left behind. And where will I put her? The family reminds me we have moved the guest room furniture into a new guest room, and it is ready for her visit.

The rest of the place is a mess. The previous owners didn't clear out their things. The family room is full of pictures and articles pasted on the wall in a haphazard way. There's a raised work stand for chopping and cutting that should be part of the kitchen but instead is apart, on its own, in a corner.

The back garden is organized into areas but also needs attention. One section is a raised cement herb garden. As I look at what's left of the plants a small animal appears at my feet: a reptile with a long tail, plump in the middle. At first I think it's cute and point it out to Clark. It has curled, like a possum, into a pretty colored ball. It's joined by others, and six or seven or so run about our feet. They now appear to be furry and somewhat rodent like. They've started to annoy me, and I do my best to shoo them away.

Going through the garden we come to other undiscovered parts of the house. I think one area will be a good place for my studio, but then find another spot that will be even better. It's a long, large room, looking like a basement with a cement floor and cinder block walls. Like the rest of the house, this area is full of debris and will need to be sorted out. There's a large refrigerator, in good repair and not looking too old. I confer with Clark as to whether it could be useful. A woman tells us the food inside is good; we should try it. There are some health food-type drinks, white like milk, that she particularly recommends. She seems concerned that we might chuck out everything in there, and it's likely we would.

As I think about the studio, I see that preparing this place will be a lot of work: first I'll have to clear out someone else's debris. But I am excited about having this expansive studio with high ceilings and fluorescent well as incandescent light. I say to Clark, “Now I'll be able to work on large pieces.

Interpretation: The new house is a mess, but also full of interesting possibilities. The first thing that needs to be sorted is the family room, and the clue as to what about family I need to sort is given by my reaction to my cousin's visit. I am very concerned that she will be critical, that she won't like where I am, that I'm not ready for her, and that she won't appreciate how much I've “paid” for the place where I live, in other words, that she won't appreciate the value of my life choices. The dream tells me that I am ready to accept this, my inner critic, even if I don't feel ready. I have prepared a room for her.

The herbs and odd animals in the garden and the food in the refrigerator all point to new, if uncomfortable, possibilities. The scurrying animals represent challenges that go way back-- to the lizard and rat parts of my brain, the parts that respond instinctively and without reflection or awareness. Here dwell the beautiful and the ugly, the appealing and the off-putting, all at the same time. The new studio, with its two sources of light and it's deep (basement) location, offers me a space where I can work on these “large” issues. Perhaps my cement, the things that have been written in stone in my psyche, is being transformed into something more enlightened—if I can avoid being overwhelmed by all the work that needs to be done.

Conversation with My Cousin

The Dream: Cousin Sandra looks ill. Her drawn and suffering face is topped by a slightly curly, dirty blonde wig. She is saying that she had thought my father was the nice one (our fathers were siblings) until I informed her otherwise. I want to correct this impression I've left her with. I try to tell her that he was, indeed, a wonderful man—but she doesn't hear me. I can't seem to get her attention.

Interpretation: Sandra represents the part of myself that suffered childhood hurts, is still suffering from them, and thinks, therefore, that Dad is not nice. The dream points out, first of all, that these thoughts are not accurate: hair represents thoughts; my Sandra hair is phony (a wig). In addition, its bright color (blonde), symbolizing illumination, is obscured by being “dirty.” In other words, while I could be thinking something that would shed some light on the subject, I'm not. This is my first clue that I need to update my inner child's way of looking at things. My inner adult, the part played by the dream ego, sees life in all its complexity and difficulty, and realizes what a good man Dad was. I want to give this realization to the sick “child” but can't get her attention. In the dream Sandra thinks poorly of her own father. This Sandra part of me is not willing, not yet, to relinquish this opinion of “the father.”

Which Hat to Wear?

Dreams are a good place to discover all the different hats you are able to wear.

The Dream: I’m in a fancy hotel with my cousin and others. I notice a square rising above our heads but not as far as the ceiling. On the top of this structure are all sorts of hats on old-fashioned hat stands. I realize that I myself had placed two or three hats on this structure.

A woman who works for the hotel, the person responsible for keeping us customers satisfied, has come into our suite. She asks if there is anything we need. I ask for some sparkling water, or, if that’s not available, still water. She scurries off to get it, and I wonder if I’ve done the wrong thing; we will probably be charged a lot for this water. I feel uncomfortable, but I decide even if we’re seriously over-charged it will be okay.

Interpretation: My life is rich with possibilities (the fancy place where I’m staying). The square shape represents my potential (in Jung’s terms, the Self) and the hats my possible personas (the different roles I might play). That both are over my head implies I’ve not yet attained either; both are beyond me.

The woman who asks what we need is what we call a guide in dream work: someone to assist or point the way. I ask her for water (a symbol of the unconscious), indicating I would like some of the things locked in my unconscious to become conscious. That I specifically ask for sparkling water shows that I expect access to this unconscious material to be enlightening. As soon as I make my request I regret it: I fear the price will be too high. Is life more easily lived in a state of unconsciousness? Do I really want to take that bite of the apple? In the end I decide the price might be high, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay (it will be okay).

Dueling Pools

While our dreams often reflect the current events in our lives, they can show us that our reactions to these events are linked by a long chain to events and opinions we picked up long ago. Sometimes these dreams are little gifts, because they enable us to realize we don’t have to hang on to ineffective ways of thinking and feeling.

The Dream: My cousin Judy and I embrace. She feels small and delicate, and I feel tenderness toward her. We have a desire for closeness, for an end to the suspicion and rivalry that we inherited from our parents. I invite her to visit. I think she doesn’t know what a beautiful, resort-like place we have here in California, so I say, “You can swim in the pool.” Then I see the plans she and her husband have made for their back garden. The plantings are marked on the plan, as is a rectangular, heated swimming pool. I feel one-upped, but I say to myself, as if just realizing it, “My pool is heated, too.”

Interpretation: Here I am dealing with feelings of inadequacy left over from childhood. The dream tells me that the reason for my uncomfortable competitive streak is still living in the unconscious (the pool). According to Jung, a square represents wholeness and balance. The rectangular shape of the pool in the dream indicates I’m not seeing the whole picture: one dimension is askew. In the dream I begin to see my cousin as a human being, rather than a competitor; despite her apparent superiority, she needs care and careful handling. By bringing my unacknowledged envy to consciousness I can realize that what I have is just fine. (“My pool is heated, too.”)