Guest Dreamer: Raw Inside

The dreamer told me that her divorced daughter's ex-husband has recently remarried. The family became aware of this because the wedding was held at their local church. Lana's friend Jane had been abused as a child. Keeping those waking life facts in mind, I'll react to Lana's dream as if it were my own.

Lana's Dream: In this fragment of a dream, friends are bringing food to a gathering. I've assigned each person to bring the same thing: a filled loaf of bread. Jane and I meet, and we open hers. We're upset to realize that the filling, looking like eggs, is uncooked, raw; it might also contain some fish. Something needs to be fixed. I feel this is my responsibility.

Carla's thoughts: My friend Jane, having been abused as a child, is the symbol of my own injured child: my daughter, who feels wounded by her ex-husband's remarriage. Whether or not having the wedding in our local church was designed to be hurtful, seeing it there opened up something that still feels raw, and I thought there was something fishy about it. The uncooked eggs represent the potential of my daughter's marriage that went unfulfilled, and we are upset that things didn't go as anticipated. As the mother, I feel it's my responsibility to fix things for my injured child.

Bald as an Egg

The Dream: I'm attracted to a small, unappealing, no longer young little man. His head is egg-shaped, and he's as bald as an egg. We are close to having sex when I remember that I'm a married woman.

“I've never cheated on my husband,” I say. But at the moment I say it, I'm planning to. Suddenly the mood changes; it's as if this practical consideration has awakened others, and I no longer want to go through with it. He also seems to have lost interest. In fact, he might have lost interest before I did.

Interpretation: In my youth an egg-head was anyone who appeared intelligent. In the dream I'm attracted to the intellect passionately, but it doesn't seem practical, partially due to my age (like the little man, I'm no longer young) and partially due to the fact that intellectual pursuits are innately impractical. In any case, the dream tells me that I see them as inappropriate. By cheating on my husband (animus) I ignore, or attempt to ignore, the practical contingencies of life, but soon discover I'm not really interested in following this path. With this fizzling of passion, the dream points out that I need to ask myself just what it is that I'm "married" to, and whether or not it's time for a new interest.

Yet Another Brown Baby

What does it mean when famous people appear in our dreams? To figure this out we need to take a look at which aspects of ourselves they represent.

The Dream: Obama is having an affair, and a brown baby is the result. I go to see the baby with some trepidation. I am a relative, perhaps the grandmother. Obama’s paramour has short curly brown hair and a soft and acquiescent feminine affect. She is a woman who stays in the background; she lacks assertiveness. She’s a shadowy, if central, player.

I am disappointed in Obama for being unfaithful to Michelle, but he says he “needs a rest.” I can see his current lover would be just that, and that Michelle’s relentlessly high standards could be hard to live with. I begin to understand, and accept, his behavior, but I think the baby will nevertheless be an embarrassment.

Then I meet the baby and am completely charmed. He is a beautiful shade of brown with an egg-shaped, slightly conical head. He wears red glasses and—just like the baby in the last dream—is preternaturally smart. I am very drawn to him and want to hold him.

Interpretation: In the dream Obama represents my ego, the central organizing force of my personality. His paramour is my shadow feminine side (She’s a shadowy, if central, player). I need a rest from the demanding part of my personality (Michelle); this is the part that drives me to work too hard and never seems satisfied with my accomplishments. My weaker, intuitive side (the shadow feminine) has produced something that feels illegitimate (the baby born out of wedlock). This makes me uneasy, and there’s a strong hint that what makes me uneasy is my fear of social opprobrium. But the reality of the baby changes everything; this new life that is being born in my psyche is something important and elemental (brown like the earth). This is something to embrace.

Cheated

The Dream: I want to buy some chickadees, some pretty little birds. A woman sells me five decorated eggs that she says will hatch out into the birds. Later I see her and she tells me that if the birds do hatch I must tell her how I did it and, what’s more, she wants them back. I feel angry, cheated, and annoyed that she is oblivious.

Interpretation: I want something that will fly, but instead am given potential flight. I have to pay for the thing I don’t want: the thing that I now realize has almost no chance of turning into what I do want. But—should the eggs hatch—I must return them. The number five is significant here; it’s when I started school. Does my psyche see this as the start of my confusing the gloss society puts on a thing (the decorated, infertile egg) with the thing itself (flying bird)? Am I only now realizing I’ve been conned?

Re-organized

Another odd little creature emerges in this dream, which seems to reflect the 3-tiered organization that Jung and Freud attributed to the mind.

The Dream: The bathroom’s vanity counter is clear. I am surprised and wonder where my things have gone: Clark has re-organized. A new tube of shampoo and other items have been moved to a shelf underneath. I start to place the shampoo back where it was, and Clark intervenes. “No! No,” he says, “If you move that everything behind it will tumble down.” He puts his hand over mind to stop me.

“That’s a new tube,” I say. “If I can’t see it I might forget about it and buy another one.” I leave it where he’s moved it, but soon come up with a solution.  I see a 3-tiered plastic organizer, which I think will solve this dilemma. I will be able to see my stuff when I open the vanity door; the stuff will be off the top of the counter; it will be organized, and--important to me—I’ll be able to retrieve it when I need to.

I must clean the organizer before I use it; it has been sitting under the counter for quite a while. I take it out and run a finger along one edge. I discover a compact white webbed mass, like a spot where a spider lays eggs. I am alarmed when I see a black shiny spider leg, thinking it’s a Black Widow. I call out to Clark and then notice the spider has a different pattern on her back, in shades of beige and brown. I’m relieved.

Next I see a very unusual insect, something in between a lizard and a beetle. It is beautiful in an odd sort of a way, and I’ve never seen anything like it. I call out to Clark again to tell him he has to see this interesting bug.  I don’t want to kill it, but I do want it removed.

Interpretation: A re-organization is taking place in my mind. The ego is not the primer mover in this re-org; that role has been assigned to Clark, who represents an unconscious force, my animus. The ego works to come to terms with a process that is taking place beneath its awareness, as symbolized by things being moved under the counter. The 3 tiers reflect the classical model that layered the mind into the unconscious, the sub-conscious, and the conscious.

I’m afraid of some of the neglected elements that might be coming into consciousness, as seen by my reaction to the spider. Once I have integrated the spider by deciding it isn’t so fearsome after all, I am ready to confront the lizard part of my brain.

Pass it on

The Dream: My brother points out an ant on his kitchen counter, saying its behavior is interesting and I should take a look. The ant crawls into a small open-topped cube with dirt on its floor. Once in the box the ant lays a cylindrical egg which hatches—and out pops a tiny frog. The frog hops out of the box, then hops back in and is transformed into a caterpillar—which lays an egg and out pops an ant. The cycle repeats over and over again. I become aware that human life is a chain made up of the same life being repeated over and over again. Child and parent are the same. We are too close to the situation to see it clearly.

Interpretation: The unconscious is offering up a bit of philosophy here. Since having this dream I’ve come to see my life as “an instance of life.” In other words, I see myself as a carrier of the life force. For me, this makes mortality bearable: I carry the torch; I pass it on.

The Egg and I

Often in dreams real world events or activities take on a symbolic meaning. This dream uses an ancient paint binder—egg yolk—to help me get over a creative block.

The Dream: I am wandering around in the streets of San Francisco in search of an egg to use to make paint. I am at Liz’s house, and I think I’ll use one of her eggs. I get one out of the fridge and crack it open, but it doesn’t look right and I find I can’t get the white part separated from the yolk. I try two more eggs, thinking I owe Liz 3 eggs, but also remembering that she mistakenly took a quart of my yogurt the last time she visited me—so perhaps she won’t mind.

Interpretation: My friend Liz and I are egg tempera painters. Symbolically the egg represents the germ of creation. I don’t have what I need (the right egg) to be creative in the way I’d like. As I take my friend’s eggs I am identifying with her qualities: we both had perfectionist parents, and the dream tells me that I need to get past their perfectionist expectations to be creative in my own way. The dream points the way to a more relaxed attitude by letting me off the hook for taking my friend’s property; my action becomes part of the give and take of life.

The Chicken and the Egg

When someone you know appears in a dream you have to puzzle out whether the dream is about that person and your relationship or that person as an aspect of yourself. In this dream, which I interpret as being about my development as an artist, I see my husband symbolically as “my other half.” In this role, as my Animus, he supports my desire to “steal” some creativity. There’s often a parallel between myths and dreams: in this case it’s Prometheus stealing fire from the gods.

The Dream: I’m walking with my husband Clark in a large garden. I pass by a chicken and a rectangular box of eggs, but then have second thoughts and call it to Clark’s attention. “Look,” I say, “You don’t have to buy chickens. You can have a wild one.” The chicken is very colorful, looking more like a rooster than a hen. It is small and struts behind the box of eggs, apparently guarding them. I suggest to Clark that we take some of the eggs; meanwhile I’m worried about the chicken’s reaction. I wonder how she sits on them to hatch them; they are spread out in a rectangular box and she would have to sit on them sequentially. As we begin to cull the eggs I have a new worry: what if some of the eggs have begun to develop into chicks? How awful would it be to open an egg and see a partially developed chick! We select some eggs. They vary in size. We try to avoid the ones with developing chicks in them.

Interpretation: The incubating creativity is here and available. It’s up to me to be aware of it. It is part of the deeply instinctive. It is guarded by the Eternal Maternal, in herself very beautiful, but a force that needs to be worked around and placated because she represents both the good and the bad of the traditional. A rigid conventionality, represented by the box, could hamper the potential of the eggs, some of which are developing in a conventional manner. We want the ones that have not started to develop: infinite potential.