Something Stinks

Whether we're interacting with a cousin, a parent, a sibling, a partner, or a child, the past is not as buried as we'd sometimes like to think: it's important to look at how old feelings influence our relationships in the here and now.
The Dream: My cousin Barb is visiting. Clark and I are entertaining in the garden, full of brilliant orange and purple flowers. Barb sits with her back to the house, on the lowest level near the family room and kitchen. She looks up at an arrangement of tall flowers, stepped as if they were on a grandstand. To the right is the fountain, surrounded by flowers as tall as it is.

I am mixing with the guests and don't see much of Barb. When I do see her she says, “The garden is very beautiful, but there is a bad smell coming up from under the house.”

I am relieved that she approves of the garden; I had been worried that there were too many of the same flower, and perhaps the arrangement was not exactly graceful. At the same time I'm upset by her comment about the bad smell. “How could I have let her sit there?"  I wonder. I knew about that smell. Or did I? I think I did. I feel judged inadequate.

Later I see her drinking a large glass of red wine. She calls out to me to join her, and I tell her I'm about to, as soon as I find a glass. I call out to her: “The guys (our husbands and male friends) don't drink so we'll have to keep up the tradition of our fathers.” As I say this I'm a little concerned I'll descend into alcoholism.

Interpretation: Two recently watched mysteries triggered this dream about family. In the first, set in Italy, a very attractive priest/detective says that Jesus came not to judge but to save. In the first scene with my cousin I feel judged and inadequate. She mentions a smell coming from under the house, and that was triggered by the second mystery, British, with bodies buried in the basement of a family home. What bodies of our family members lie buried underneath and raise up stinks that appall us even today? What “remains” poison our current relationships?

Having acknowledged the stink of the past my cousin and I take communion: we have wine together, but even then I worry about the legacy of our fathers. Does this communion require we numb ourselves with alcohol? Or is the dream pointing out that I'm letting overblown worries get in the way of enjoying my time with my family?

The imagery of the dream is closely tied to burial rites. The brilliant flowers mask the dark reality of decay, and they point to new growth, a resurrection of the spirit.My cousin sits near both the family room and the kitchen, the first pointing to the issue (family), and the second to transformation (our new relationship).

Moving is a Lot of Work!

The Dream: We've moved to a new house: it's an old new house and needs a lot of work. It was expensive, but I'm afraid it doesn't look it. My cousin is coming to visit, and I wonder how she will react. I'm concerned that she won't realize how much the house cost. I also think about my old town, that it was dull and that this is a better place. I wonder if my cousin will prefer our other house, the one we left behind. And where will I put her? The family reminds me we have moved the guest room furniture into a new guest room, and it is ready for her visit.

The rest of the place is a mess. The previous owners didn't clear out their things. The family room is full of pictures and articles pasted on the wall in a haphazard way. There's a raised work stand for chopping and cutting that should be part of the kitchen but instead is apart, on its own, in a corner.

The back garden is organized into areas but also needs attention. One section is a raised cement herb garden. As I look at what's left of the plants a small animal appears at my feet: a reptile with a long tail, plump in the middle. At first I think it's cute and point it out to Clark. It has curled, like a possum, into a pretty colored ball. It's joined by others, and six or seven or so run about our feet. They now appear to be furry and somewhat rodent like. They've started to annoy me, and I do my best to shoo them away.

Going through the garden we come to other undiscovered parts of the house. I think one area will be a good place for my studio, but then find another spot that will be even better. It's a long, large room, looking like a basement with a cement floor and cinder block walls. Like the rest of the house, this area is full of debris and will need to be sorted out. There's a large refrigerator, in good repair and not looking too old. I confer with Clark as to whether it could be useful. A woman tells us the food inside is good; we should try it. There are some health food-type drinks, white like milk, that she particularly recommends. She seems concerned that we might chuck out everything in there, and it's likely we would.

As I think about the studio, I see that preparing this place will be a lot of work: first I'll have to clear out someone else's debris. But I am excited about having this expansive studio with high ceilings and fluorescent well as incandescent light. I say to Clark, “Now I'll be able to work on large pieces.

Interpretation: The new house is a mess, but also full of interesting possibilities. The first thing that needs to be sorted is the family room, and the clue as to what about family I need to sort is given by my reaction to my cousin's visit. I am very concerned that she will be critical, that she won't like where I am, that I'm not ready for her, and that she won't appreciate how much I've “paid” for the place where I live, in other words, that she won't appreciate the value of my life choices. The dream tells me that I am ready to accept this, my inner critic, even if I don't feel ready. I have prepared a room for her.

The herbs and odd animals in the garden and the food in the refrigerator all point to new, if uncomfortable, possibilities. The scurrying animals represent challenges that go way back-- to the lizard and rat parts of my brain, the parts that respond instinctively and without reflection or awareness. Here dwell the beautiful and the ugly, the appealing and the off-putting, all at the same time. The new studio, with its two sources of light and it's deep (basement) location, offers me a space where I can work on these “large” issues. Perhaps my cement, the things that have been written in stone in my psyche, is being transformed into something more enlightened—if I can avoid being overwhelmed by all the work that needs to be done.

Guest Dreamer: The Python, Mago, and Homecoming

Occasionally people experience what dream workers call a “big” dream: one that points us in a new direction. Helen Hwang recounts one of these, along with her thoughts on what the dream has meant to her search for her own spiritual truth.

Helen's Dream: I do not have a narrative for this dream. I have a scene to describe. I saw an old, big, and long python coiled in a room at least three or four times. The coils of the snake filled four corners of the room! Its posture was firm and its head was up. It stayed still and looked at me as if smiling. It was emanating an aura of something positive and comforting, love, peace, and wisdom etc. I felt comforted and delighted with the sight. The snake felt like my grandmother to whom I was very close when young.

After awakening, I described what I saw and felt in my dream journal. Then I decided to interact with the dream. I called the old python "Grandmother Wisdom" and began to talk to her, the content of which I do not remember clearly now. (I do not have the journal with me.) I may have asked her to protect me and guide me through the years to come. I may have pleaded with her to lead me to an exciting adventure in life. I intuitively knew that this was a dream of importance. However, I had no clue about how to interpret it. It just felt good!

Helen's thoughts on her dream: That was twenty some years ago. I was a devoted Christian, liberal though, at that time, eager to follow the lifestyle of an overseas missionary. Perhaps I had already joined the missionary group and was being trained on the day that I had this dream. This dream remained a mystery for a long time. And I had almost completely forgotten it until this morning. Now, I see this python was the symbol of ouroboros leading me to the primordial knowing of the Great Goddess. She kept her promise and granted my heart's wish.

I was reminded of this dream because I wrote and published this essay today: Toward the Primordial Knowing of Mago. It feels right that this dream was a prophetic dream for my life's forthcoming and unfolding voyage to the Great Goddess. I am beginning to understand its details now.

The room that the python was sitting in was a medium-sized rectangular room with white walls and no furniture. The center was simply left empty. Just a clean and bright, pristine room. Now I can see the room is filled with the primordial energy emanated from Mago, the Great Goddess. It is the same energy that came from the time of beginning. That this was a family room of my childhood intimates that I would be coming Home with Mago, the Great Goddess of East Asia. The word, Halmeoni, in Korean means grandmother and goddess at once. This dream was a manifestation of primordial intelligence working in me at that time. It foretold that I would be re-turning to the Female Divine of my own culture.

That the python was coiling in the four corners suggests the four directions, which means all directions of the world in East Asia. Am I not bridging the worlds through my research and advocacy of Mago? Also I find it interesting that the room was undecorated exposing bare white walls. It signifies to me a new beginning to be evolved with many potentials and possibilities. Now the article that I wrote in 2007 about my homecoming with Mago comes to mind: Returning Home.

It has taken many turns over the years for me to realize that the power of the Great Goddess/Mago has been working in me!