How a Dream Turned into a Painting

Carla: Elaine Drew links one of her paintings directly to a dream. In this post she'll show us the path that took her there.

Elaine Drew: The inspiration for this piece, called Journey was a dream in which I was to about to be sacrificed in a primitive religious rite. (That scene is represented in the 3rd panel of this 4 panel painting.) What, I wondered, was that all about?

Because the dream seemed to embody a spiritual quest of some sort, I organized the artwork along the lines of a medieval predella, a small strip of narrative scenes that appear at the bottom of an altarpiece. This organization reflected my asking myself what was at the bottom of the dream?

This led me to think that consciousness, the great gift that makes us human, might be a double-edged sword. That is the theme of the second panel. Here the figure carries consciousness like both a precious gift and a burden.

So, in the first image we enter life, unconscious, enclosed in a particular culture and point of view. Our first task is to break out of our shells, hit the road, and experience life in all its complexities. As we do this, in the second panel, we attain consciousness, and this includes the awareness of our own mortality. In the third panel we face the threat that this hard earned consciousness will be obliterated.

Wait a minute! I thought. I've been told that dreams come to us to tell us things we don't know. My piece needed a 4th panel, one that would get me past the limits of my current understanding.

It took a while, and some of the false starts most of us are familiar with when we try to solve a problem. Finally, as you can see in the 4th panel, the idea of the renewed self emerges into a built environment. And then the meaning of the piece became clearer to me: while I will probably never understand the mystery of life on earth, I can understand the process of death and resurrection that often plays a part during our lives. We are asked to sacrifice, and at times it feels like too much. Or we find our hopes or ideas dead in the water. But then a kind of natural salvation kicks in. We re-emerge with an expanded consciousness. It engulfs us, and we see the world through it. We are now in the world we built, no longer wandering in a barren wilderness. The sacrifice is behind us.

So, the Journey begins again. The painting is about life, about change, about learning as we go, and about the hope for an ultimate understanding that makes sense of it all.

Mother Has Departed

The Dream: I am teaching an art class. I've forgotten my lesson plan and need to go home to get it. I give the students some warm up exercises, mostly to keep them busy while I'm gone, but as I demonstrate I think, “That's a good idea.” I'm surprised at myself, and pleased, that I handled this situation so well; in other words, my missing plan didn't throw me.

When I return the class has changed from an art class to a dream class. I lecture on dreams, telling the group to beware of charlatans who claim to tell them what their dreams mean. I am challenged by someone in the class: “You interpret your dreams on a blog; but dreams can have more than one interpretation.” I agree, saying, “I never meant to imply that dreams have only one meaning.” A dream presents itself to me, as only a title: Mother Has Departed.

Interpretation: Do I dare to attempt an interpretation after this? I'll soldier on . . . . I have a new sense of competency. I can survive the challenge represented by being imperfectly prepared. I teach, but I also learn. The world of art and dreams overlap. My inner scolding mother has departed, and I find I can carry on very well in her absence.

A New Reality

The Dream: I'm at a social event. Don is there. After a while I realize I must be dreaming because I know that Don has died. He looks very healthy and in some way I know he lives elsewhere. I want him to tell us about his new life. What's it like in the world beyond?

Interpretation: This dream gives me a clue as to what the precocious children represent in the last dream: their preternatural intelligence is not about things we are capable of knowing in our earthly existence. Don shows me a spiritual reality that transcends earthly existence, but he doesn't answer my questions.

Old-Time Religion

The Dream: I’m in a city, wandering the streets. I start from a school. There are many churches: each street seems to have one, old, beautiful and out of date. It is nighttime, and I go into one.

Interpretation: Nighttime; the time of dreams and spirit. I leave the learning of the day (school) and enter the spirit realm.

I, the Dream

The Dream: The dream appears on my blog in the first person saying "I, the dream . . . . "

Interpretation: Apparently my unconscious, represented by the dream, wants me to know that dreams have their own particular point of view (the I) which speaks to me directly. There is also a play on words with the use of the term first person. Is the dream telling me that this unconscious material is the first, most basic,  person I ever was, in other words, the bit of myself that existed before the layers of culture and consciousness evolved? It is the primal aspect of my being.

A Slice of Head?

The Dream: A young man in a classroom is using a large chef’s knife to slice his head into three layers above his eyebrows. It doesn’t seem to distress him in any way. I am concerned, however, even if he isn’t.

Clark and I are waiting to go into a lecture on dreams in a setting that is part classroom, part theater. An usher seats a lone woman who is in front of us, and we are meant to wait in the lobby for our turn. I, however, decide to sneak in behind them and see how many seats are still available. The room is almost full. I’m excited to see how many people have turned out for a lecture on dreams. At the same time I think Clark and I had better grab a seat because there aren’t too many remaining.

We take our seats, and who should appear but the head slicer. He sits next to me and, again, starts to slice his head into 3 sections. I find this very disturbing, and this time he looks pale, as if about to faint. As he starts the final incision I say, “We must call an ambulance.” The young man doesn’t want us to.

Interpretation: The young man is slicing the part of his head where thought takes place (above the brow) into three sections, reflecting the division of our minds into id, ego and superego (Freud) or conscious, personal unconscious, and collective unconscious (Jung). While the dream character doing the self dissection appears to be unbothered, the dream ego goes from concerned to alarmed. Perhaps my animus (Clark) and I are too eager to go learn from dreams (we are attending a dream lecture). There is no seat (place) for us here, and it is only my pushiness (going out of turn) that gets us in. Once in, the head slicer reappears, and this time he seems to be feeling some ill effects from his work on himself

The Walled Fireplace

The Dream: I am making a work of art which will be displayed on a rectangular table with the work of some other artists. As we discuss the placement of the pieces the person in charge of the gallery tells me that there is a boarded up fireplace behind the table. She asks if I would like to have it opened so it could be used during the exhibit.

“No,” I say, and feeling I must offer an excuse for my decision I go on, “The soot from the fire would damage the artwork.”

Interpretation: During the time I had this dream I had a disruptive house guest. Here the fire represents “hearth and home,” which I want to keep tucked away, safe behind a protective wall.  My art represents me; the table what I share with others. Soot is something that is left behind at the end. (“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.”) I don’t want the fall-out (soot) of this visit to damage me and my world.

Crab Attack

Do dreams always have to do with your own life, or do you sometimes dream just as powerfully of things that affect your friends or family?

The Dream: A crab is moving forward, shooting a dart at a human figure.

Interpretation: I was in the dark about the meaning of this dream until my daughter pointed out that the Crab is the symbol for the Zodiac sign of Cancer. On the day before I had this dream the husband of a dear friend had a biopsy, and a serious cancer had been discovered. My dream was trying to help me absorb this distressing news.

Looking Inside

Dreams are not known for delicacy when creating their metaphors: they use whatever will get the message across.

The Dream: I am looking into my vagina. It looks like a long funnel, ending in a very small circle. Its sides are covered with evenly spaced cholesterol deposits. I think I should scrape them off, and begin to—but then I think it would be better to wait until my doctor has checked them out. Perhaps he will write a prescription.

Interpretation: This image is a metaphor for the dream work I’ve been doing. I am looking deeply inside myself; I am worried and upset by what I see and want to obliterate it: scrape it off and make it go away. But I realize I can’t force the healing process; I need guidance from the doctor. Dr. Jung, perhaps?

Take a Break

The Dream: I’m invited to take part in various lighthearted events, but I react to the invitations by feeling weary. One in particular stands out: a 4th of July celebration is coming, with fireworks, and the kids want to go. I don’t think I’ll enjoy it.

Interpretation: The dream shows several things coming up that are supposed to be enjoyable that I am not able to enjoy. This is a common reaction for me when I’m feeling overextended—almost always by too many obligations. The 4th of July is an interesting symbol here; it celebrates Independence Day—and freedom! I have to figure out why I’m resisting the explosion of freedom the fireworks represent.

The number 4 is significant to Jung, who sees it as a symbol of wholeness. In his terms, the dream is pointing out my resistance to integrating some part of me that would both make me whole and release a spectacular amount of energy. And it might even be fun.

Note: Carla Young is featured in an article in the SF Examiner. Read it here.

I See Differently

This short dream illustrates the technique I described in my last post.

The Dream: I’ve noticed a change in my vision. I’m less near-sighted, especially in my right eye. The vision in this eye has greatly improved, but I’m afraid that might mean I’m getting cataracts.

Interpretation: As a result of my careful attention to my dreams I see things differently. Jung tells us that the right refers to what we’re conscious of; the left to the unconscious. The dream uses the change in my right eye (the conscious I) to symbolize an expansion in my point of view (I’m less near-sighted).  This sounds positive until I get to my worry about having a cataract. Is the improvement in vision temporary, to be followed by a dimming?

I looked up cataract in the dictionary and discovered that it is “a large waterfall; a cascade upon a great scale” and “any downpour like a cataract; a deluge.” Only when I get to the third definition: “in medicine: opacity of the crystalline lens of the eye” do I find the meaning I was aware of. The unconscious is often symbolized by water imagery, and this puts a different shade of meaning onto the dream’s ending. Instead of reflecting my worry over my new found sharp vision deteriorating, it is more likely the conscious mind’s (the right I) being concerned that it will be overwhelmed by unconscious material.

Butterflies

The Dream: The manzinita bush in the back garden is covered with butterfly cocoons and emerging butterflies. I look at them analytically to figure out what kind of butterflies they are. I’m a little worried about the fact that they are so plentiful.

Interpretation: Traditionally butterflies have been a symbol of transformation: the soul emerging from the body as the butterfly emerges from the cocoon. I try to understand this wonder with my intellect (analytically). When I can’t, I become uncomfortable. The unconscious is pointing out that I cannot understand everything using reason and logic. 

Under Water

Some dreams are inspired by waking life events in your past. When this occurs ask yourself, “Why did I revisit this particular incident now?” The answer? Something happening now—in the last couple of days--evokes a similar feeling.

The Dream: I am on a rubber raft on a fast river. Someone shouts a warning about the dangerous currents and I topple out of the boat. I am under the water about 6 inches, but traveling so rapidly, face-up, that I can’t save myself. I can see the bright blue sky through the sparkling and clear rushing water. I think, “I’m going to drown.”

Interpretation: Something like this happened to my daughter many years ago when she was three. We were in an inflatable boat, and she fell off the back. Her father grabbed her foot; in the several seconds it took to retrieve her she was dragged behind the boat, looking up with a startled and terrified expression.

Why did I dream this now? When I look at what’s going on in my life, I see that I’m feeling under water. I’m drowning under too many deadlines and obligations. Time to come up and breathe.

The Beautiful Bird

Do you dream in color? Dream specialists attach significance to the way we color our dreams.

The Dream: A beautifully patterned bird flies overhead, its flight path a half-circle. The bird is brilliantly colored: red, green, black and white.

Interpretation: A bird is symbolic of the spirit and indicates my awareness is expanding. Its half-circular flight, however, suggests the expansion is incomplete.  The colors in the dream are complementary pairs: red/green; black/white. As such, each intensifies the other. Red signals that this dream is important. Green is a color of growth and transformation; here it points to previously unconscious material becoming (growing into) consciousness. Black represents the unknown, the unconscious, the things I’m not aware of; it’s paired with white, associated with consciousness.  This pairing of opposites gives a strong hint that I must resolve something that’s pulling me in two directions. If I can I will complete the circle, becoming whole.

Only the Shadow Knows

Sometimes you just can’t get rid of those pesky imperfections.

The Dream: I am in an office building and a hobo is on a ladder outside the window. He puts out his hand, in a supplicating way, as if requesting money. He is unstable, and his ladder falls away from the window. I am glad, not bothering myself about his probable fate after falling from a considerable height. I am relieved to be rid of him. Moments later he is back.

Interpretation: This shadow figure, as Jung would call him, is appealing to me (he puts out his hand in supplication). I may reject him; I may think he’s dead and gone. But nope—he’ll be back until I give him what he wants: the acknowledgment that he is part of me.

The Incubi

Sometimes you’ll find that a dream invites you to revisit parts of yourself you once rejected.

The Dream: We are hunting for snails, which we are going to eat. We pull them out of a messy, amorphous background and put them in a red pail containing rocks. The snails climb up the pail, and I snatch them and throw them back down. They disgust me. They have soft shells which I am afraid of crushing. It occurs to me that we are not planning on cooking them, so how revolting will it be to eat them while they are crawling around on the plate?

I go over to a boarded up and rotten structure, looking for a trash area. I crank off the feeble and rotting wooden lid and see what I at first believe to be a pile of murdered babies. They are frozen. Their bodies look something like plucked turkeys; something about their faces looks girl-like, but they have no features. They look like flesh colored mummies, getting bird-like toward the bottom. Clark spots them and hollers, “Carla!” in shock, also thinking they are murdered babies.

Interpretation: At some very young age I made the determination that parts of me were disgusting. These undeveloped selves (babies) have been stored and frozen, apparently “murdered.” As an adult I might judge these incubi less harshly; my dream invites me to integrate them.

What is my Niche?

You might notice that your dreams tend to illustrate a point by going over the top. In this dream I get a message from my inner drama queen.

The Dream: I have been ill, and it is determined that it is time for me to die. I am in India, wearing a flowing costume, but the street looks like the one I live on. My “father,” who looks and acts nothing like my real life father, accompanies me on the journey to my burial. This father is very tall, relatively slender, with a fair complexion and close cropped hair. We are escorted by a large rabble of young children who are merrily running, frolicking, and occasionally falling down, scraping a knee, and crying. I note to myself that they are behaving exactly like children. This odd procession walks through streets now citified and comes at last to my gravesite.

The site contains an open tomb, a simple rectangular box with no lid. Inside the box are the do-whap songs of two early rock groups. The songs have been shredded and are being stirred, with the expectation that they will turn into a peanut-butter like goop. Father, holding a copy of one of Nietzsche’s works, becomes intellectual and starts to lecture about the writer. He tells me his name is properly pronounced Niche these days. I am exasperated. “Must they change everything?” I say.

I tear the binding off the back of the book so it can be shredded and added to the coffin with the songs. Father opens the partially destroyed book and shows me a list of questions Nietzsche thought people should ask themselves. I read the questions, which invite introspection, and realize I’ve never asked myself these things. “I want to live,” I exclaim, with a certain desperation. “I want to live!”

Interpretation: I had this dream seven years ago. At that time I was recording my dreams, but had little idea what to make of them. In a rather histrionic way, the dream tells me to find my niche (Nietzsche). It tells me that life without introspection is not life at all.

A Small Dark Pool

Your dreams are cleverer than you might think. After you write one down, take a good look at the words your unconscious has given you. In this dream, a shift in the word used to describe a body of water holds a clue to the meaning of the dream.

The Dream: I’m outside on the back deck of a house, overlooking a small dark pool entirely contained in our back garden. I am throwing trash, some empty containers, into the pool. Then I realize there is other trash, of a similar sort, already on the bottom: empty plastic bottles and milk containers. I’m not sure why I threw the 3 pieces of trash into the lake. I expect it to sink to the bottom, and when it does I notice the trash already there. I think we had better clean up this mess before we swim.

Interpretation: There are things I don’t want (trash) submerged (at the bottom, in the dark) in my unconscious (the pool). Some of it is phony and trivial (plastic); some connected to things I should have outgrown (milk). I need to do some clearing out (clean up this mess) before I can enjoy the benefits of a better relationship with the unconscious (swim in the lake). A subtle but meaningful shift in terminology: the body of water changes from a pool (implication of man made) to a lake (natural) as the dream progresses. This implies a return to a healthy state once the cleanup occurs.

The Lampshade

Have you ever had a dream that interpreted itself for you? I haven’t had many, but this one did.

The Dream: A lampshade features prominently. It is colorful, made of translucent geometric forms in shades of yellow, green and orange. The dream explains its own symbolism: it tells me that the lampshade’s significance is that it both conceals and reveals illumination.

My Inner Frog

That little inner voice that lets you know when you’re on the right—or wrong—track might be more humble than you'd expect.

The Dream: A little girl is sick. She has a frog living inside her. This is not the cause of her sickness but does cause some symptoms. When she goes to the doctor the frog is discovered. An illness is also discovered and treated, so the frog has saved her life.

The doctors want to remove the frog, which would kill it, but the little girl will not allow it. It is said, several times, that because the doctor said to her “The frog is bad,” and her mother had said to her when she was four, “You are bad,” the girl identifies with the frog and doesn’t want him hurt.

Later the girl has some abdominal pain and goes to the doctor. A nurse tells her nothing is wrong with her. The girl insists, standing up to an adult which is unusual for her. Again, the frog has alerted her to an illness. Again the doctor treats her, and she is cured.

Interpretation: Like the frog that turns into a prince in the fairy tale, this frog has an important role to play in my life. My child accepts him, and so must I; he is important to my health and well-being. Listen to your inner frog!