Hunger

The Dream: This dream centered on hunger that can't be satisfied. In the first fragment, a man wants to have sex with two women. The woman who's mind we're in wants marriage in return, or at least fidelity, but neither is on offer. The man more or less says, “All I want is sex; I'll get it from you or from someone else.” The woman acquiesces.

In the second fragment, a woman cannot satisfy her hunger, even though food is available. It is said, in explanation, that she had once gone through a period of starvation and could not now feel satiated, no matter how much she ate.

Interpretation: Keeping in mind the previous dream, I see religious overtones here. I thought of the Biblical phrase about those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. My rejection of the religion I grew up in has left me hungry for spiritual nourishment. The dream uses the carnal, food and sex, as symbols of this need. The first segment of the dream points out that the thing on offer doesn't fulfill my needs. The man's demand for sex on his very unpleasant terms stands for my reaction to my religious experience. Yet as the dream character I acquiesce. It seems I've decided this pathetic offer is better than nothing.

In the second fragment, the dream points out that there is plenty of sustenance available. Just because I “starved” in the past doesn't mean I must go hungry now.

A Disappointing Holiday

The Dream: I'm not hosting the holiday this year; I'm at someone else's house. I wonder about the friend who has celebrated with us for so many years. Where has she gone this year? The food at this feast is perfunctory: a bare bones meal with grocery-store preparations. It's not the way I would have done it.

Interpretation: This might be an example of Freud's concept of wish fulfillment gone wrong. I might wish to be relieved of the responsibility for the holiday, but once that wish is fulfilled, as in the dream, the result is an unfulfilling event—with the play on the word “full” duly noted. The food is inadequate, and the friend who represents my inner wounded child has been neglected. To mother my wounded child I must be a mother, in other words, take on the responsibility of hosting the event. Only then will I be happy with the outcome.

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.

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.

Death of the Goddess

The Dream: I am on a farm. It is an enclosed space with a rustic wood fence. It is meant to be a retreat from the world, where a person can be free. I call out, “I'm free . . . .” as I hover near the edge of the property. I don't feel free. I go up a small hill near the fence with a feeling of resignation.

In the distance, toward the center of the property, I see a black bird fall to the earth. I am hoping the bird has dived for food and that I'll see it flying upward with its catch. In my heart I know the bird has been shot. I have a sinking feeling.

Interpretation: Birds are an ancient symbol for the goddesses of early European cultures. In our culture, the divine feminine (the black bird) has died, leaving me bereft of a god I can identify with. I am resigned to the loss.

Phantom of the Opera

M

The Dream: I am with my mother in a subway. We are planning to meet my father and my daughter at a play. The subway we're on is due to make a special stop to accommodate opera goers. We are running a little late, and I'm getting anxious. The subway operator announces that we are going to skip the extra stop, and I'm relieved at this time saver. I had thought our meeting was at 8:30, but mother tells me it's not until 9:00. Again I'm relieved; we have a little more time to make it. 

“Oh, yes,” says my mother derisively, “you and your father will be getting nervous, but your daughter and I won't be concerned.”

Mother is an insulin-dependent diabetic. To add to my anxiety she announces she needs food (to avoid a life-threatening insulin shock). We get off the train and go in search of, but nothing seems right or appropriate. The few food stalls we find have the wrong sort of food.

Apparently we do find a place where, as I continue to worry about being late, an Italian woman serves me a bowl of soup as I sit/lie on a twin-size bed. The soup looks better than I had expected, with lots of julienned strips of vegetables like zucchini. I eat while still in the bed, and spill some. It makes a mark the color and consistency of pomegranate jelly. I point this out to the woman and tell her it can be cleaned up easily; I start scrubbing with pretty good success.

The Italian woman's husband comes in and the woman signals to him that outsiders are present. They speak in Italian. Soon they switch to a combination of English and Italian. Meanwhile I become aware that my mother is incapable of feeding herself. I sit down next to her at a small circular table and feed her.

Interpretation: Even with the best of mothers, and my mother was as good as it is humanly possible to be, some dregs of unhappiness will settle to the bottom of the mother/child relationship. In this dream, years after her death, I look at some of this murky sediment. The first thing that struck me about the dream was my mother's derisive comment. She did have this hateful way of criticizing me occasionally; rather than acknowledging that there might be a reason for my anxiety (or other negative feeling) the message was that I was wrong to feel it. The comparison to my father in the dream reflected a frequent jab as well: comparing me to my father was an indirect and implied rejection. She must have felt that she was the superior one; he was not the one to emulate. Here (on the subway) we see the subterranean conflicts of the mid-century marriage. We're running out of time. I do feel that, especially after my younger brother's death.

Despite Mother's superiority she needs to be taken care of. The diabetes of the dream was real, and it had us all running in circles. She was very brave about it in many, many ways, but the threat of insulin reactions , horrible to behold, was ever present and frequently happened. The need to get access to food could be, and often was, a problem. This created an on-going anxiety: another sort of running out of time.

I eat, forgetting the purpose of the stop for food was mother's need. Am I demonstrating my selfishness? I've certainly been accused of it, directly and indirectly, by Mother. The foreign language being spoken tells me that there is something I don't understand. When the language switches to a combination of English and Italian, I begin to get it, partially: I must feed (take care of) Mother. Now I have to ask myself, "Is what I've come to understand that I do feed mother, or that I should feed mother?" She has been dead for 8 years. Is it appropriate, at this point in my life, that I feed her? Or am I living with an unpleasant burden that I have created for myself by continuing to feed her? Time is running out, and if I want to skip the work (the opera) and get to the “play” I probably need to sort this out.

Alchemy

This dream is about transformation. Since we're all in the process of psychic transformation all the time, it's not surprising that it shows up regularly in our dreams.

The Dream: I am taking cooking oil to a recycle center that utilizes only food waste. To get to the center I have to walk down into a gulley, its slope covered with the kind of loose rocks used to control weeds and erosion. Once I get down, a helpful and friendly—in a professional way--man directs us to the proper drop off site. I take the oil to an underpass and see that it is recycled into beautiful carved kitchen cabinet doors. I am very impressed with this operation and plan to come again.

In another area waste is recycled into jewels. This work is so interesting to me that I would like to be a part of it. I hope to be hired. The man in charge of the jewels is leaving; as they look for a replacement for him I hope I will be considered for the post, but I think that is unlikely since I have no experience. However, his assistant is promoted and I am taken on to learn the craft.

Interpretation: In mythology oil is a gift fit for the gods. The used, depleted oils in this dream (my feelings about my own potential) are transformed into ornamental cabinet doors. These in turn protect the treasures of the kitchen (an area where ingredients are transformed into something that sustains us). There's something circular here: the oil goes from kitchen waste to a beautiful and useful part of the kitchen. But to turn this particular dross into gold I must first climb down the sides of the gulley covered with loose rocks. The dream tells me that I am feeling used up, wasted—but that if I can negotiate the slippery slope, where I might literally lose my footing, I will get to a place (my center) where I might become energized for the better.

The second paragraph of the dream reiterates the same theme, this time upping the ante by changing waste into jewels.

Putting the Pieces Together

The other day I posted a guest dream from Emily called Killing Gophers. She worked on this dream with a projective dream group and has sent me the insights she gained from the process. As you read what she has written you'll get a sense of the rich material your unconscious gives you in dreams as well as the benefits of having a group to work with in exploring them.

Emily: I, as dreamer, retold the dream to the group. The act of retelling rather than reading my written report brought out additional details. These included the acorn woodpecker eating the tail end of the swallowtail butterfly, and the fact that the scene had pastures in it as well as the brown hills with the gopher holes.

When the group looked at the dream, one of the first thoughts was of food: "swallow", "acorn", "meat". Food is used to nourish us, feed us, keep us alive. Poison is the antithesis, so the dream immediately pictures nourishment/poison and poison/natural environment as the contrasting elements. There is also much about things being hidden: the poison hidden in the meat, the gophers hidden in the ground, the hidden claws of the woodpecker, and the hidden thought that the meat is too expensive. The colors came into play: the yellow of the butterfly and red of the acorn woodpecker verses the brown of the land. Another contrast of vibrancy/lifelessness.

The nature of "twinning" arose - when a dream images two of the same things: ie, the two "tails" for "tales". There was the "swallow-tale" butterfly and the woodpecker eating the "tale of the butterfly".

It was noted that although poison was in the dream, it was not harming the dreamer. It was a source of potential harm. Such as what happens when we swallow something that is not healthy. Both the holes and the poison were round, circular elements of the same size, so their weight was equal in the dream. A status quo.

Phil is a fatherly figure (the dreamer gave 3 adjectives for Phil during the clarification phase and fatherly was one of the adjectives, as were compassionate and caring), who is getting overwhelmed by the invasion of the gophers. The dream doesn't actually resolve any issues, but rather leaves the questions for the dreamer to ponder:

What is something costing the dreamer? (high cost of the meat and choice not to mention this cost to the animus Phil)
What is the dreamer getting to the meat of? (the pork chop)
What tale is the dreamer swallowing? (tail of the butterfly, and the acorn woodpecker eating from the tail end of the butterfly)
How is the compassion of the dreamer becoming overwhelming or to much to bear?

Which, in fact, was the outcome of the dream for the dreamer. For, she had swallowed a pretty big family tale while attending a funeral 2 days earlier. The dream imaged the cost to the dreamer of making the decision not to debunk a myth the other family members believed. It pervaded her sense of integrity and wholeness (or self-righteousness), but it did not destroy her. By keeping the myth alive, at least for now, balance of wholeness for both herself and the rest of the family was maintained.

In Tony Crisp's online Dream Dictionary, he states an idiom "One man's meat is another man's poison". Exactly - what was the meat of the tale nourished the family members' memories of the deceased, but it was poisonous to the dreamer.

Finally, at the IASD Conference, it was suggested at one of the workshops to change the title after working the dream. Thus, the new title for this dream is
"The Hidden Tale".

P.S. Plays on names: (but I think you got them all by now!)
Phil - "fill"
Cooper - "coop her"
Tail - "tale"
Gopher - "go for it"
Holes - "wholeness"

Running from Adam

The Dream: Clark and I, and Adam and his partner, are two teams of spies. Clark and I become suspicious of Adam and his “Operation,” and we want to get out of it. We try to flee undetected, but Adam soon figures out we’ve bailed and comes in pursuit. We are on the sidewalk, running from Adam, when Clark notices a Paramount Theater across the street, showing the Matrix. The theater is like the grand movie palaces of my youth. Clark says, “He thinks we’ll go see that movie.” In that case I think the theater is an excellent place to avoid, but to my surprise Clark leads me straight to it. “Why go here?!” I demand.

I don’t get an answer, but instead we wander into the dark bowels of the place, with its labyrinthine twists and turns beneath the main floor. Adam is in hot pursuit. At one turn we come to a market where artistic goods are sold. I admire some lovely glass pieces and try to decide which to buy. I am torn between a beautiful, very tall amber candlestick holder and a clear glass bowl with sparkly flecks.  I choose the bowl because the candlestick, while very lovely, has no practical use.  I don’t have room for something that is only decorative, but I can use the bowl to serve food to guests. I have something I am offering for sale at about the same price in this bazaar; I wonder if anyone will buy it. Adam is still after us; that anxiety looms over all.

Interpretation: Adam, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, is the first human who knows he will experience mortality. In this dream, my mortality is in hot pursuit. We duck into the Paramount (of greatest importance) Theater to confront this fact of life. The film that’s playing, The Matrix, symbolizes the intricate web of life on earth.

In the middle of this, a bazaar (yes, life is bizarre!) appears, and the dream ego is temporarily diverted by pondering a very basic question: Is art utterly useless, as Oscar Wilde tells us, or should it have a practical purpose? The deeper meaning here is my hope that my life (my art) will have a purpose. I’m hoping that the piece I buy (the things I've chosen to do) can, indeed, be used to nourish others. This can only happen if others buy (accept) what I have to offer. This remains a hope, not yet a psychic reality, since fear of death still looms.

Guest Dreamer: The Flying Dinosaur

In this guest dream, Firequeen faces grief at the loss of her husband. Death appears as a swift raptor, a cheetah that cheats her of her beloved. The dream triggers a powerful transformation: By facing her pain in the dream, healing can begin.

Firequeen’s Dream: Weird dream last night. I was standing in my house with Wolfram, it was not this house but the room we were in was this one (office). We were standing at the window and we saw a flying dinosaur - about the size of a pelican - the name given me in the dream was velociraptor, but I just looked that up and it doesn't have wings. This had a big head and a very long sharp beak. Wolfram was intrigued with it and began making faces at it and waving his arms to annoy it (he was like that) and it turned and flew towards us. This did not make him give up. It flew straight at the window and its beak pierced the glass, making a hole. It made about three of these holes. Then it saw a small bird sitting on a bush and it speared the poor bird with its beak. Then it sat back on its haunches - it had turned into a cheetah-like creature and was holding the bird in its paws and had a grinning mouth full of teeth. It seemed able to change back and forth between these two creatures at will. I felt it was extremely dangerous and could get in the house through the holes it had made, so I persuaded Wolfram we should leave the room and shut the room door behind us.

Then we went to the door of the house and I saw the house was in a field with open space around. People were coming towards the house and I was supposed to have made food for them, but hadn't. Then Libby came and she was carrying trays of beautiful food and cakes, which she had made for us and the people. There was more but I only remember fragments - Adrian, a friend I haven't seen for a long time, was holding a pane of glass and saying he was going to repair the window.  I felt I had to warn all these people about the velociraptor, but I could not get them to listen. I kept lining them up outside the house and saying they had to listen to me before they went in. But they were too busy talking to each other. If any of them did listen, they dismissed it as imagination.

Firequeen’s afterthought: Some days afterwards, I was thinking about this dream, and how Wolfram is so often with me in dreams, and I felt sure that he is always there, even when I don’t know it, and then I received the message that this is so, and it is because we are now merged. We don’t have to wait until after my death. And maybe this was why he ‘wasn’t there’ on the holiday this year, when he had been so vividly present the year before - because he had been present in me.

Carla’s interpretation: The dreamer has shared some facts from her life that I take into account as I interpret her dream as if it were my own. I am standing in my house (my self) with my husband Wolfram, who in waking life died unexpectedly in 2006. We are in the office, which is the dream’s way of telling me that I have some work to do. The window I look through represents my view of things, and the creature that I see tells me what I need to work on. I see a dinosaur, which has mythic elements for me, reminding me of a fairytale dragon (something to be conquered), but this dinosaur is very particular—it’s a velociraptor, a word that literally means swift seizer.  My husband was swiftly seized by death, and the dream is helping me deal with my feelings around this tragedy. The dinosaur breaks the glass: my husband’s death has been a shattering experience. My soul (the bird) is held in this fearsome event, and I feel cheated (the Cheetah). I have tried not to look at this painful reality. (I persuade Wolfram we should leave the room and shut the door behind us.)

Yet having experienced the pain and fear of my loss in the dream space, I begin to heal. I go to the door (a threshold, the demarcation between one state and another), leaving the painful part of my inner world to enter the open space of a field. My world view is opening up. Because of my suffering I hadn’t been able to nourish my friendships (make food for my friends), but my friend Libby (the part of me that is now ready to interact and give to others) has provided enough for all. The Adrian part of me (a part that has been gone for a while) will repair my shattered heart (the glass pane “pain”).

My dream shows me how I have progressed through my grief, but also warns me not to forget the life lessons I have learned, even though there are parts of me that don’t want to know as well as people in waking life who refuse to accept the difficulty of dealing with death (the people who ignore my warnings about the swift seizer). As I can see from my thoughts a few days later, my spiritual beliefs were activated by the dream and console me with the realization that my love and I have merged: he lives on through me—in real time. Wolfram is not lost to me.

Time for My Own Vision

The Dream: I am subletting an artist friend’s apartment. The main room is square, and I’m very busy preparing food for a large group. A lot of clean-up work is generated. Some guests offer to help but I tell them not to; they have to go to work tomorrow and will need to get up early, whereas I can sleep late. Nevertheless I’m not happy being stuck with all this clean-up by myself.

A very large computer with many components is in the middle of the kitchen. It has a giant screen, of amazing clarity, on a moveable arm. I imagine watching movies on it. But the system is too big, and when we move it out of the kitchen the room is much nicer.

In the course of our rearrangement I discover an image that takes up most of one wall. It’s made of red clay, like the walls of a cave. In its center is a thick, waterfall-like seepage.  To the right is a recessed area: at first I think I’m seeing into outer space, as if the recess is a window into the universe. Later I’m not sure: it’s ambiguous. Am I looking at something near or far?

Interpretation: This dream further develops the theme of Relieved of Duty. In that dream I was determined to do a boring and impossible task, and in this dream I jump in to be helpful at a boring task and then feel taken advantage of. The computer (the rational mind) in the middle of the kitchen (a place where transformation takes place) needs to be moved before a more personal, deeper (cave-like) image can be revealed. While the rational mind shows us a very clear picture (its screen has amazing clarity), it’s also impersonal and external, like a movie I’m watching. The more personal image is only revealed once we get this contraption out of the way. The ambiguity of seeing something near and far at the same time tells me that what is “out there” is at the same time “in here.”

The Symbolic Meaning of Easter

Just as we have personal dreams, religious myths embody group dreams or shared symbolic content, what Jung calls the collective unconscious. Looking at Easter from this point of view, I see a marvelous tangle of meaning: the one I’ll focus on here is how we participate psychically in the myth of resurrection. First there is the sacrificial death, symbolizing the death of my individual, potentially antisocial desires for the greater good of the group. As I contemplate the god dying for the good of the group, I participate by sacrificing some of my selfishness for the good of others.  Once I’ve acknowledged the “bad” parts of myself, symbolized by the god going down into hell, I’m ready for resurrection as  purified and perfected (or at least somewhat improved) member of society.

At its most primitive level, this yearly resurrection coincides with the rebirth of nature in the northern hemisphere. Ancient fertility rites lie not too deeply below the many-layered observance. Participating in the fertility of nature gives me food, or sustenance, and, with our own propagation, carries the life force forward. At the spiritual level, the myth celebrates our human attainment of consciousness: we have transcended our animal nature and been reborn into a higher, godlike, level of awareness.

Living In Hampshire

The Dream: Clark and I own the rural and idyllic house we lived in when we were in England. I want to go back and stay for a long visit.  I wonder if I will be able to get groceries and whatever I need without having a car.  I think perhaps I can get some help from my neighbor, but then I remember she is probably elderly by now. I am also concerned with the fallout from the volcano. Is it affecting the country?

Interpretation: Dreams are almost always triggered by current events, including both those in our individual lives and those in the news. This one combines a conversation I had with my daughter about the ways Jamie Oliver has changed the British school lunch menu and the news—current at the time of this dream—of the powerful Icelandic volcano. The unconscious put these together with fond memories of four years in Hampshire and presented me with an idyllic home there. But the home is not without its dangers: I might not be able to get what I need (groceries) and an explosive force hovers. Looking at waking life, the difficult and demented aunt Clark and I are caring for might explode at any moment, and the ravages time has chiseled into her aged face make me aware of the precariousness of any sort of apparent stability. The neighbor who cannot help reflects the isolation we feel in dealing with this difficult situation.

My Cup Runs Over

The Dream: I am at a church function, in a crowded hall filled with chairs and circular tables. The light level is dim; it is noisy and busy. I am in a long line of people waiting, cafeteria style, to get food. The person dispensing the food has the outgoing charm of a bartender. He is bright and shiny, with curly blond hair and angelic good looks. He is,in fact, the vicar. I’m aware that I think very highly of him.

When my turn comes I order a chicken sandwich. The vicar seems to work efficiently, but time goes by, and my food does not appear. After a while I see a tray near me and take it, soon realizing it’s not a chicken sandwich but has a small round quiche and some delicious looking salads. “Umm,” I think “this is clearly someone else’s, but it looks better than what I ordered so I’ll take it. I’m sure the other person will be able to sort it out.” I am feeling just that little bit uneasy about taking someone else’s food, which may have cost more than my chicken sandwich, but expediency wins the day, and I go on my way with my ill gotten gain, looking for a free table. I’m also looking forward to eating this delicious plate of food.

But wait! Now I notice that the lovely round quiche is half-eaten, with clear little bite marks where the rest of the quiche should be. I have someone’s half-eaten dinner. “Shall I eat it anyway?” I wonder. The thought of a stranger’s germs becomes too distasteful; I get back into the food line in order to exchange this meal for my chicken sandwich.

What's Bugging Me?

The Dream: A stepped garden leads to my apartment. Some others from the complex are with me; they get to their apartment by first entering mine and then going up some stairs to the right. The space opening to my apartment is separated from the vestibule by a counter covered with decorative plants. My companions, on entering the vestibule, survey my apartment and remark on its attractiveness. The woman says she wishes hers were as lovely. I think her place probably has the exact same layout as mine, and it’s a question of what one does with it.

As they are admiring my place, which does look beautiful, I notice bugs coming out of the pots on the counter. This is distressing and I wonder what caused them to appear. Did I leave some food around? I’m hoping my “guests” won’t notice as I search for the cause. At first I notice that one pot in particular, the one to the far right, has lots of small creatures emerging. But then I notice all do.

Interpretation: The stepped garden represents my personal growth.  My feelings of isolation (apart-ment complex) and I (the dream ego) encounter one another in this dream.  I begin to realize we live in the same space (her place has the same layout as mine). I see that my complex splits off from our common domain (the entry way) and go upstairs to its usual habitation, the intellect (on a higher level, to the right). I am happy with my beautiful apartment until I notice all is not right: something unpleasant and distressing emerges. The bugs represent something I don’t want to accept and can’t control (the fly in the ointment). I need to figure out where they fit in.

Things are Not What They Seem

Often it’s a lot of work to get to the truth of a dream. In this one, my initial reaction was far from what I later concluded.

The Dream: An evil and powerful woman -- ambitious and driven, caring only about her own advancement -- is trying to kill me in an exotic way. I am the captain of a small crew, and we are going to be shot into space. Then I will be murdered—remotely by her. The crew knows nothing of her plot and is not involved. I am frantically trying to stave off this event, which seems to be moving forward inexorably.

Mouse Lady

Some dreams reveal their meaning best when looked at in a series. A transformation takes place over the next three dreams, but I didn’t realize it until I looked at them as a group. I'll post the rest of the series later in the week.

The Dream: There is food on the counter, and I see a mouse. As I watch it its tail lengthens. As I scream about the mouse, I notice it has turned into the head of a very unattractive woman with a long dark brown pony tail. It’s socially awkward that I took her for a mouse.

Interpretation: The good things in life (food) are contaminated by something I find revolting (a mouse). It makes me scream. But wait! It isn’t a mouse, it’s a woman—and not recognizing her for what she is has created a problem. (It’s awkward.) The dream tells me that as the mousy part of me transforms into something braver and stronger I have to guard against seeing these newly emergent qualities as unattractive.

Put on the Stockings

Sometimes the things we dislike about ourselves need to be recognized as gifts, of a sort, as this dream tells me.

The Dream: We are trying to escape the Nazis, but using an odd strategy. We’re running away from them by going back to the place we used to live even as I think, “Won’t they be able to find us here?”

One woman accepts a pair of silk stockings from a Nazi soldier with the idea of reselling them to get money for something useful, like food. At first I think her acceptance of a gift from the Nazi is morally dubious, but later feel that in transforming the gift into something useful she’s done something sensible.

Interpretation: I learn that something good can come if I can accept a gift from my inner Nazi.  My tiresome attention to detail and tendency to perfectionism are not all bad, but can and do enable (feed) my creative side.

The Distracting Child

In dreams, references to lower levels or the left usually refer to unconscious elements, and the kitchen is a place where transformation takes place.  The divine child represents rebirth.

The Dream: A young child, about three, is fretful and we don’t know how to amuse her. I don’t have any toys for her. It occurs to me I could give her a very simple recipe to follow and she could make some food. This would occupy her and leave me free to concentrate on other work, such as cooking the rest of the dinner. I make a work station for her on the kitchen table—at a lower level, to my left.

Interpretation: A part of me that I wasn’t aware of is kicking up a fuss and demands my attention. The dream ego finds a useful job for her and brings her closer (integrating her) while at the same time pushing her back down into the unconscious (I put her on a lower level and to my left). That the dream ego is “cooking the rest of the dinner” implies a mixing and blending of ingredients and a magical or alchemical (as Jung might put it) transformation.

Water or wine?

According to Jung, the goal of our nightly dream journey is to bring to consciousness as much of our potential totality as we can. And what, you are probably asking, is this potential totality? According to Jung it’s:

• the conscious (what you are thinking about);
• the subconscious (the name of your 4th grade teacher: you could think of it if you tried);
• the personal unconscious (personal memories we’re unaware of); 
• and the collective unconscious (species memories; symbols we respond to that are buried in our ancestral history).

Jung calls the process of increasing our awareness and integrating the often opposed internal factions individuation, and the expanded psyche he terms the self. As you go on this journey you will become aware of your own disparate elements, and occasionally you might notice some push back from them, as illustrated in this dream.

The Dream: On a sightseeing tour with a group, we stop to eat in a restaurant. I am concerned that Clark and I will have to pick up the tab for the entire group and they will eat too much. The food is not very expensive, but the drinks are. I wish I had ordered only water, but then, as the hostess, would I appear niggardly? I think of a solution that might have worked: I could have ordered the water after everyone had put in their order. Then the others would not feel constrained by my example.

When we return to the limousine the keys are in the ignition. Clark is the driver, but he is not here. I sit in the front passenger seat and worry that anyone could hop into the vehicle and make off with it.

Interpretation: The ego needs a rest (rest-aurant) from this psychic activity. It fears paying the price for all this activation and isn’t comfortable ceding power to the other components of the psyche. The ego discovers that its sustenance (food) is not so expensive: I can give them this much. But keeping them numb (the effect of alcohol, i.e. drink) is expensive. I wish I had stayed unconscious (ordered water). I decide to let them have what they want as long as I can remain unconscious. This results in no more movement, as the initial stop (at the restaurant) predicted.  My driver does not reappear. But on the positive side: the keys are in the ignition, and we’re ready to go.