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.

Something's Got A Hold of Me

The Dream: I was startled awake by this nightmare. Clark and I are in bed, asleep. Our dog, Toffee, comes bounding in and jumps on the bed between us. He clamps his teeth onto my finger and won't let go. I scream again and again for Clark's help; he doesn't respond. Finally, screaming over and over, “Clark, you aren't paying attention to me!” I awaken, feeling very shaken.

Interpretation: On the surface this dream seems to be saying that I feel neglected by my husband, and that could certainly be one of its meanings. But the level of terror I experienced in the dream hints at another meaning. I've been grabbed by the instinctive (my animal, the dog) and it won't relent. The rational (Clark, my animus) ignores the problem.

The dog in the dream, Toffee, died some years ago, and the terror the dream conjures seems consistent with a primal fear such as that of dying. What might have triggered this nightmare? Last night I was reading George Eliot's “Daniel Deronda.” In the book the character Gwendolyn responds with terror to a painting of a dead face and someone fleeing.

Guest Dreamer: A Walk on the Wild Side

Today's guest dreamer's emotions evolve as she processes her life experiences.Thanks, Firequeen, for this very rich dream.

The Dream: I dreamed I was walking in the woods in weather like today, cold, snow on the ground, bare branches. I was walking my dog, but not the dog I have now, nor was it Benji, my last dog. A largish dog. At the same time as I was dreaming the dream, I was also watching from the other side of the canal, and narrating what was going on. The dog kept disappearing for long periods of time, as Lola does when she goes off hunting, but now I had another explanation of where the dog was. He was walking with another person, but this was not someone living on the earth today, she was from the other side. Although she looked exactly as she would in life, I knew she was not living now. I saw her at a great distance, in the other part of the wood, but she was able to communicate her thoughts to me. She said that she returned here to walk with this dog, which had been her dog in another life. She came to these woods because it was a place that made her feel happy, and it did not mean that she was returning to where she walked her dog in life, she chose this place because it was special, and that other people came here to do the same. Sometimes I saw that she brought another dog with her, which had also been her dog, and she walked the two of them together. I seemed to wake two or three times during the dream, then continue dreaming it, but I think this was also part of the dream. Telling it, there does not seem much to it, but waking with the full memory of it, I felt very happy. It had such a happy atmosphere. Perhaps it is the feeling of life continuing, with dogs (!) that is so nice!

Carla, just remembered that the ghost woman in the dream also told me that other souls also returned to walk their dogs in this place.

Interpretation: The first image I'm going to look at is that of the woods. In my version of Firequeen's dream it evokes a magical place, something like the enchanted forest of legend and fairy tale. This is a place where we expect to see a transformation.  In the beginning of the dream the spot I'm in is cold and barren; this tells me I'm feeling alienated. The large dog I am walking represents my feelings. The dog disappears: this is the central problem I'm facing in this dream—my disconnect from my emotions. In order to look at them, I split into a narrator, the one who watches, and another person, my shadow, who acts. The canal is the watery divide between what I'm conscious of and the unconscious. Being man made, it is an artificial divide; this tells me I'm capable of changing it. As I watch, in the guise of the narrator, I learn: the canal symbolically changes from a dividing line into a conduit that flows toward healing and integration.

Who is the person I observe? As someone no longer living I could call her a ghost. In dreams ghosts sometimes represent things that haunt us—for example, things from the past that have left residues of guilt or regret. Another word for a ghost is a shadow, and, in my dream, she is the shadow of the self I used to be. This earlier self was in touch with her instincts and feelings (the dog, her inner animal). She was happy in the woods, a place of nature. As I visit this earlier version of myself I also visit the people she interacted with, people who are no longer with me (the other souls who come here). They can return to this place in my heart where we can be together. Communing with those I've lost--and, more important, with parts of myself I feared were lost-- in this place of magic and enchantment nourishes my soul. My unhappy feelings are transformed into feelings of the continuity of life. The forest that had seemed barren and desolate, I now realize, was only waiting for the right moment to spring to life. As it does I, too, am renewed. 

Life and Death

This dream builds on the theme of Don’t Forget the Dogs from a few nights ago. In that dream I tried to avoid looking at the most basic reality of life—that it ends. Here I begin to accept this inevitability.

The Dream: I’m in someone’s house. She has pets; one a dog, the other a lizard. The lizard looks like a made-up animal, like a dream animal come to life. It’s very cute. My friend is pretty, and naive. She wants her animals to get along and, like a child, thinks they will. She puts them outside together. A few moments later we see one end of the lizard sticking out of the dog’s mouth. I feel sick and don’t even want to think about what shape the rest of the lizard is in. She wants to pull it out of the dog’s mouth. I think it might be better to let the dog finish the job.

Interpretation: The lizard represents the basic life force. My naïve part wants to believe that this life force can happily co-exist with death. When she puts the lizard (life) and the dog (death) together in their natural setting (outdoors), the inevitable happens: death devours life. The dream ego is distressed but accepting.

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.

Guest Dreamer: My Dazzle is in a Hole

Angelina has sent us a dream about her dog Dazzle, who came to her through the Golden Retriever Rescue Association about 8 months ago.

The Dream: Last week I dreamed that Dazzle was in the house and let me know that she wanted to go outside as she usually does.  I let her out through the sliding door to the back yard which, oddly enough, looked very different.  There was a huge hole about fifty feet in circumference and about five feet deep.  Dazzle was in the hole when I went outside, and it was unclear to me if she had been hurt or was just resting.  Her eyes were closed; she was reclining and didn’t pay any attention to me.  I was frightened and just wanted to get her out of the hole.  I was afraid to go into the hole since I didn't feel I would be able to get out on my own or to save her.  I thought of putting something into the hole to grab her but nothing was available to me that I could see working.  When I woke up I was so relieved to know that it was all just a dream.

Carla's interpretation: In my version of Angelina’s dream the first thing I’ll take a look at is what my dog represents. What traits does my dog embody? She’s joyful, loving, full of life, dependent. She’s an animal, so she operates at an unconscious, instinctive level. She lives in the present, with no concept of past or future. In my dream, she is the part of me that shares these traits.

Where does the action take place? Jungians see the front garden as representing the persona, or the part we show publicly, and the backyard as the place where the soul lives. My joyful spontaneous part has fallen into a hole; my innermost being needs nurturing. Dazzle initially came to me because I rescued her, and I want to rescue her now but find I can’t. My dream is telling me to let go of rescuing others for a while and to focus instead on taking care of myself.

Why do I think so? In the dream Dazzle is paying no attention to me (she doesn’t want my help). I don’t think I can get out of the hole on my own (I need some help). My fear is making it difficult for me to solve the problem, and I don’t have any practical solutions (nothing is available to me). If I can let sleeping dogs lie (not try to fix everything) I think the hole will become whole, and my Dazzle (sparkle) will wake up, get out of the hole, and shine forth as usual.

The Child and the Puppy

The Dream: My daughter has a little dog. She leaves it kenneled while she goes to work. Clark is concerned that it will be miserable left alone in its kennel for so long. I don’t want to take responsibility for the animal, which feels like a burden. We go to my daughter’s house and let out the puppy, which joyfully jumps on us for a while. After a short time it has had enough companionship and returns to its kennel, happy to be alone again. “See,” I say to Clark, “it’s fine with the current arrangement. When they go to work lots of people leave their dogs home alone.”

Interpretation: The dream points out the relationship between my ego and my instincts (represented by the dog). I repress this instinctive side so I can work. M. Esther Harding, an acolyte of Jung’s, tells us that inertia, which she sees as an instinctive human state, is one of the first obstacles humanity must overcome on the road to consciousness.* But what about the child? Jung sees this archetype as leading the way to our spiritual development. In this dream, the animal (instinctive) belongs to the child (spiritual). Jung emphasizes the ambivalent in his understanding of God; in other words, as a very wise friend of mine once said, “It’s all part of it.” The dream tells me not to separate my instincts from my “higher” self.

*M. Esther Harding, Psychic energy, Its Source and Its Transformation, Bollinger Series X, (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1973), Chapter 3. Inertia and Restlessness, pp 37-59.

Guest Dreamer: Mega Millions

Jung described a category of dreaming which he called active imagination;  when I was a child looking out the window during class it went by the more plebeian daydreaming. He thinks this sort of dreaming is equivalent to sleeping dreams, and The Red Book features many.  Morag offers us this delightful example, which needs no interpretation.

The Dream: The radio alarm clicks on to NPR.  It’s five a.m. and as usual they tell me the temperature for the rest of the day.  I’ve tried to set the alarm ten seconds earlier so that it will tell me what the temperature is now, this minute.  For some reason it doesn’t work.

The news is still mostly about the dreadful conditions in Haiti and it makes me wish I could give more than the ten dollars I can text over with my cell phone. I give regularly to “Doctors without Borders” and I have a “Plan Child” in Africa but I’m severely limited financially beyond that.  Still… then I remember… I won the Mega Lottery!  I can give a million dollars to Haiti if I want, though that may be a little excessive.  I’ve read that one must keep a low profile if one wins the lottery or be driven crazy by begging organizations.  Perhaps a hundred thousand would be more suitable for now.

Written on the Body

Once we have attained middle age Jung tells us that our job is to come to terms with our own mortality.

The Dream: Clark and I are at the airport with lots of baggage. We’ve taken some of this into the terminal but most of our carry on is still in our parked van, which has been painted black. We go for a walk. When we return the van is gone—a woman has taken it to search for her dog, which someone has kidnapped. We go in search of her.

I am anxious. There is increased security at the airports and we must check in an hour ahead. I don’t feel any sympathy for the woman searching for her dog, but I hope she finds the animal so we can get the rest of our things and get on with it. I worry we’ll lose our parking spot by the time she returns.
Finally we find her and re-park the van. I notice the lock to my door is on the outside of the window, which seems useless.

Part of our luggage consists of t-shirt fragments printed with genealogical information and punctuated with blocks of color.

Interpretation: The unconscious is struggling with the idea of mortality (the imminent airplane ride will take me off the planet). This makes the dream ego anxious and uncomfortable. The missing animal embodies the primal aspects of life: sex, birth, death. I want to put the vehicle of change (van) back into its parking place. When the woman returns the van its lock has moved to the outside: once we’ve gained the knowledge of life and death it’s impossible to lock out what we know. The t-shirts symbolize our DNA, which maps our reality. Our past and future is encoded there: written on the body (thank you, Jeanette Winterson).  But perhaps it’s not the whole story?