Not an I (Eye) Surgeon

The Dream: There is an eye surgery nearby. The head doctor, who does laser surgery, is an affable phony. He's been friendly, so I go back to see him. He's in the middle of an operation. To get to him I have to walk all the way to the end of his facility, a long, narrow room. I see him working next to a large rectangular surgical table covered by a tray filled with blood. The smell puts me off, plus I can see he's busy, so I leave.

As I get to the front door one of his assistants, an officious nurse, points to a flimsy sign, folded over in a way that makes it unreadable, handwritten on lined school paper. The sign says, “Stay Out!” or “No Admittance.” She is judgmental in that quiet, huffy, offended way that some women have perfected. She says something like, “Didn't you see the sign?” as she slams and locks the door after me.

I feel guilty and ill at ease about having trespassed, even though I hadn't seen the sign. I worry that I will be the cause, or be blamed, if there's a difficulty with the eye operation.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by a guest dreamer post:  The Dream. I saw the dream as sexual, in some way connected to the dreamer's menses, related either to her actual father's reaction to her coming to womanhood or to the father as symbolic of the culture's values. I was concerned that the woman who offered the dream might be offended by my interpretation. My own dream tells me that I shouldn't go near the blood, that I am trespassing. Perhaps with this particular dream, I was “at the end of [my] facility;” in other words, either my comments were facile or I was out of my depth. And this could be true because, to avoid upsetting the dreamer, I did feel the need to soften my reaction to her dream. I see the doctor in my dream as a phony, but affable.

If I make a mistake with someone's “I” (eye) I leave myself open to a huffy, offended judgment. At least as far as that particular guest dream goes, my own psyche thinks it might have been better to see the writing on the wall (the sign) and “Stay out!”

Open Your Eyes

The Dream: I am in a truck. We are parked near the entrance to a gas station. A man in a red convertible pulls up, trying to enter, but we are blocking his way. As the backseat passenger I say, “Sorry, we can't move.” The driver is doing something outside at the pump. Then I realize I'm in the driver's seat, but I can't open my eyes. The vehicle begins to inch forward, and I'm panicking because I can't open my eyes or control the truck. I plead with Clark, sitting next to me, to help. He doesn't respond. I take my hands and pry open my eyes, with difficulty. I awaken.

Interpretation: The panicked pleading of this dream reminded me of a church service I attended  recently. I was struck by what seemed to me a kind of unctuous begging for some sort of help, for salvation, from the deity. It seemed that the idea behind the service was that if you asked enough times, desperately enough, maybe god would respond. In other words, I'm getting a lot of gas, hot air. So it's probably time for me to convert, to change from a backseat passenger to a driver. The dream tells me to open my eyes and take charge of where I'm going. It's time to find my own answers to the age old questions.

Hit in the I

The Dream: I am rushing out of a building on the way to a dental appointment. There are some odd metal boxes, each with a drawer, in the lobby. I leave the building, picking up one of the boxes on my way out. As I'm going down the front steps, a Mexican girl comes running after me. I understand that she has left a book in the box. She is sitting on one of the steps and stretches out her hand to reach the drawer. As I turn, trying to make it easier for her to open the drawer, the corner of the box strikes her in the forehead. I am very sorry and apologize profusely. Here I was, trying to help, but instead I've hurt her.

We chat for a while and she accepts my apology. Then I realize the corner of the box hit her eye, not her forehead. The eye is red but doesn't appear to be damaged other than superficially. I am upset, but after a while I tire of feeling guilty. I begin to wonder if I had been wrong to apologize: would this open me to a lawsuit? “No,” I think. “The girl's too simple for that. Besides, she doesn't know my name.” I rush off for my dental appointment.

Interpretation: The earthier more basic part of me, as represented by the foreign (Mexican) girl wants an education—there's something she needs to know--(the book), and I (the ego) try to help her. In so doing a blow to the eye (I) occurs. So, as parts of the unconscious become educated, as they come to consciousness, difficulties and complexities are created for the conscious ego. I'm having trouble keeping things “in the box.” (The drawer slides out of its container.) The eye (I) is red (angry). I end up discounting this part of myself: she's too simple; she doesn't know who I am. I rush off for an appointment that never takes place.

Original

The Dream: I go outside from a house where I used to live onto a deck with several picnic tables off to the right side. They are populated with sightseers. I am looking for a place to sit and do a drawing. Finally I find an empty place at a table where several other people are sitting. A young round-faced woman sits across from me. She has a black eye (her right eye). She asks what I’m drawing, and I tell her it is a dream drawing. “Oh,” she says, “why don’t you do something original?”
I am surprised. “These are original!” I say.  
I leave the deck, noticing a low utilitarian gate opening onto the driveway that goes to the house.

Interpretation: I seem to be going in circles in this dream. First I’m in the house, then on the deck outside, and then see a path that leads back to the house. Something has me stuck in this house, and whatever it is makes it difficult for me to be original. To figure out what that’s about, I’ll look at the word “original.” Incased in the word is “origin.” Something about this loop is connected to my origins. To do something original means to do something that truly reflects who I am at my most basic—in other words, at my point of origin—where I start (originate) to define my unique self, what Jung calls individuation.
The visual is highly symbolic, as we can tell from the sight-seers (double emphasis on seeing with a dollop of mystical foresight: that is, seers.) The other actors in the dream are on the right; in this dream they represent my desire to do the “right” thing, the acceptable thing. Why does the person demanding originality have a black eye? Perhaps she is my black (unacceptable, secretive, mysterious) I (self). If I take the gate back to the house (my usual self) I am passing into the utilitarian, abandoning the possibility of discovering my own originality.

Baby Under Water

As you work on your dreams, you may become aware of recurring themes that reflect your psychic progress.

The Dream: A baby is in a pool, face up under the water. It takes me a while to realize that she is having a problem: I am distracted; my attention is not on her. I’m reading the newspaper. When I perceive the danger she is in I rescue her, managing to resuscitate her. This happens again, only I’m not sure I am able to breathe life into her tiny body this time. I hold her nose and breathe into her mouth. At one point I think perhaps I see her eyes flutter. I am afraid she’s dead.

Interpretation: After the rapprochement of my warring aspects in Ménage a Trois, the dead and dumped baby of Death of the Attached Baby reappears: still in danger, but alive. The newspaper I read here (am I too concerned with worldly matters?) echoes the newspaper the baby was wrapped in before being unceremoniously thrown into the garbage. My attempts to revive the baby (my authentic artist self) are tenuous and not completely successful, but there is some small hope I have managed to breathe life into her.

Shifting

The Dream: A bridge. I am aware of part of it, which looks like part of a square. It has a rail on one side and is open on the other, and there is dark gray water underneath, far below. I’m afraid when I look down on the unprotected side, so I avert my eyes in order to have the courage to proceed. I am with a small group; we are filing across. We only see the section of the bridge I’ve illustrated.

Interpretation: Jeremy Taylor says that a bridge in a dream represents the difficult but doable task of living with unresolved paradox. The greatest paradox we live with is the knowledge that being (life) is bounded by non-being (death). I see this dream as part of a series building upon the last two dreams: here I explore what really frightens me about ill health: its logical conclusion, i.e., death. I am crossing this bridge – or working on my understanding of this irresolvable dilemma -- but even so I am not quite ready to see it: I avert my eyes, in order to have the courage to proceed.

The part of the bridge that I see makes three sides of a square. For Jung, a square or circle signified a complete person, one who has attained consciousness by integrating unconscious material. My square is clearly not complete.

Difficulties of Leadership

The Dream: We are going up a mountain in a rural setting; the landscape is fresh and beautiful, damp and fragrant like a primeval forest. I am on horseback, leading an expedition. My horse pulls some colorful, old-fashioned vehicles that look like circus cars. I am concerned that the cars might fall off the side of the mountain when I go around its sharp curves.

We get to a black tunnel which we must transgress before getting to the top, our destination. I see nothing in the pitch black. My left eye feels clogged: I can’t keep it open.  I am very sleepy. In order not to lose my followers over the edge I try to stick to what I “feel” is the inside track.

Touch, not Sight

The Dream: Coming down a steep staircase I close my eyes and run my hands along the surrounding walls, which function as a banister might. I navigate by touch, not sight. I feel that Clark is guiding me, and I can just about conquer my fear by not looking.

Interpretation: In order to experience the deeper levels of my psyche (get to the bottom of the staircase) I must rely on feeling (touch) not intellect (sight). Here Clark represents what Jung calls my animus, the part of a woman that copes with the outside (male-dominated) world. I'm up against the wall, so to speak. Will I get past the ban(ister)?

Alone

The Dream: I am happily chatting with people at a party. I notice a woman sitting alone and think I should speak with her, although my first impulse is to overlook her.  She is at a small table for two in a cafeteria. She is having trouble with her surroundings: her tray sits askew on the table; the extra seat leans on the table at an awkward angle.

I introduce myself and ask her why she is here. She is youngish, early 30s, and has long straight mousy brown hair and bangs that frame a round, nondescript face. She says she’s been sent “to keep an eye on” this group. I burst out laughing, because the group of “trouble makers” she is monitoring is composed of aging members of Phi Beta Kappa.

Interpretation: The isolated woman, on her own at a cafeteria table, reminds me of school lunch periods when not having someone to eat with was painful. My socially integrated adult confronts the isolated girl of my youth. I attempt to communicate with this awkward creature. Her suspicion of the Phi Beta Kappas tells me I believe my intellect is the reason for my social isolation. 

Note: The notes in blue above on the illustration were gleaned from Tony Crisp’s Dream Dictionary (New York: Dell Publishing, Random House Inc., 2002).

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.