Edged Out

The Dream: A bus passes; it's attractive, looking like a large one story suburban house. I wonder how it will make the turns. I get on another bus, knowing it's going in the wrong direction but thinking I can take it to a place where I can get the right one. I put a notebook down on a seat about three-quarters down the aisle to save it for myself, then go toward the front to ask the driver for directions. When I return a man has taken the seat. I'm surprised at this rudeness, but am mostly concerned with getting back my notebook.

Interpretation: The life I am accustomed to living is attractive--if circumscribed (single story); it leaves me outside my own center (it's suburban). Into the bargain, it's passing me by. I don't think this way of life will allow me to evolve (I don't think it can make the turns). Since a bus is a public conveyance, it symbolizes the direction of the society and my role as a member of that society. When I do get on a bus, I think it's going in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, I'm still hoping I can get to where I want to go, even though I've made a commitment to stay in one spot (the seat I've chosen). I realize I need some help in charting my path, so I go to the driver (the part of me that is setting my course) for some advice. When I return my fixed spot has been taken—this is a rude awakening, but my main concern is to get back a notebook. Since I use one to record my dreams I think the unconscious is trying to tell me this is an important step in the process of understanding my true path. Perhaps the unique look of the first bus I saw is a hint that even though we travel with the larger society, we might not see things the way it does.

Guest Dreamer: Hand or Foot?

After reading Who Did I Leave Behind, about the loss of a loved one, Bhilal sent me this dream.

Background: I found my friend, Robbie, that I had searched for for a long time, I found her obituary. I don't know if I'm grieving for my friend , Robbie or celebrating finding her, a combination of both I imagine... but I had to see her picture again and I feel the presence of so many of my friends and relatives that have passed away and it is a warm feeling love and caring...I guess it is not my love or their love because love is not possessed.

The Dream: Robbie would dream of coats of arms , families etc. because she had been adopted and didn't know her family and craved to belong..I went into a sleep that resulted in my being involved in enslavement. I had to find a password or gesture to release me. I was lost in an oriental commerce system..each window or door had to be stamped or marked paid or they would arrest you and enslave you ... I became a giant but was still lost couldn't find a direction.. the member? of different races of the orientals helped me shrink again and presented me either formed hand images or feet images to select from...a nightmare, a hell between worlds.

Carla's thoughts: I'll react to Bhilal's dream as if it were my own. She will be the judge of whether or not my thoughts are relevant for her. My dream has put me in a place where something foreign to me (oriental commerce) is controlling me. Since this dream followed my search for my dead friend and came at a time when I was thinking about others I've lost, the foreign thing that confronts me is my helplessness in the face of mortality. Windows and doors enable us to see beyond where we are and to go from one place to another—mine present difficulties. This tells me I haven't come up with my own spiritual truth, something I can see through the window of my soul, that will enable me to pass from the earthly realm (go out the door) comfortably. I am expected to pay for access to my windows and doors; what is demanded of me? If I don't mark each window and door as “paid” I will be arrested (stopped) and enslaved (not able to go where I wish). There is something I need to discover (the password or gesture) that will release me from this horrible situation.

I become a giant (there's more to me than I thought), but I'm not in touch with my entire capacity yet, so I am still lost. The part of myself that I feel no affinity for, the foreign part, shrinks me back down to the size it's comfortable with. I'm given a choice: hands or feet. Hands allow me to “handle” my reality, and feet give me freedom of movement. Being forced to choose creates a nightmare. Perhaps if I can stop myself from running away (feet) and begin to handle (hands) the realities that I find difficult to accept I will no longer be enslaved by my grief.