The Dancer

Dreams often point out when it’s time to reevaluate how we’re going about our lives.

The Dream: A young man is giving a group of us dancing lessons. His impresario says he will dance for us. He begins his dance, and I am stunned by what I see. It isn’t the steps he takes; it’s the astounding and achingly beautiful grace of the way he moves. As his performance continues it doesn’t match his beginning. He seems to drift off and lose focus. I want him to get back to the wonder of his opening.

A little girl dancer has a cupboard stuffed with ribbons; they have been used as parts of her costume in many performances. I feel I should sort the ribbons for her, and I begin taking them out of her cupboard. The more I take the more I can see jammed in, and I wonder if I can ever get this sorted out.

Interpretation: The action of the dream shows that what started out as perfect art has degenerated into a chore. I need to rethink my approach to my work.

They Sing, I Dance

Jung tells us that the 2nd half of life—in his day after 35—is devoted to the spiritual task of coming to terms with our mortality.

The Dream: Old ladies are singing, taking turns. They are on a stage grouped around a small table upstage left. Three are at the table at a time; others come from the wings (stage right) to replace them and take their turn. Meanwhile I am dancing in front of them in the empty space downstage. My friend Alice is in the audience, amazed that I can dance. It feels almost like flying.

Interpretation: The old ladies are reminiscent of a Greek chorus, their presence a leitmotif on the cycle of life and death as they replace one another at the table. But what about the number 3? It overcomes duality (such as life and death; night and day; good and bad); the 3-woman chorus is hinting that there are possibilities I don’t grasp. After all, the women come from the “wings,” a word associated with divinity: the bird is symbolic of the soul. I dance, with such energy that I practically fly, expressing the unfathomable energy of the cosmos. But here’s the conundrum of dreams: Do I dance with life or do I dance with death?