The Present Presents Problems

The Dream: I'm with a group of people in a foreign country. Someone is giving away her things. A large group of old glass items comes up; they are dusty and wrapped in tissue. The disburser looks in my direction as she describes the lot, and I wonder if these objects are for me. How should I respond? Should I gush a bit, so she will know I'm grateful? I like these pieces; they are lovely and might be antiques, but at the same time they present some problems: I have no place to put them; the items are too much for me to carry; they would be expensive to ship, and they are fragile and could break. To top it off, I'm not sure if they are meant for me, and I know I'll feel like a fool if I act as though they are being given to me and then realize they aren't. As it turns out, the disburser has been looking in my direction because the objects are being given to the woman sitting behind me.

Interpretation: I'm in new territory (a foreign country) with the dilemma my dream presents (that potential gift). It must be something that's currently happening (the present), yet it hearkens back to something old (antique) and obscure (it's dusty, wrapped in tissue). As my unconscious attempts to unload these things she no longer wants, I struggle to come to terms with them. (How should I respond?) Once I've gone over all the reasons why I can't deal with this “gift” I side step the problem by denying it altogether. It really wasn't meant for me.

More Protected Than Necessary

The Dream: I'm in a foreign land. A Chinese woman is in charge: she's the dictator. A group of us sit in an informal semicircle on the ground in front of her. I see that others are expected to show ID cards in the shape of credit cards when she calls on them. They are dispatched according to her wishes. When my turn comes I have my identity card in my hand. I'm ready. I feel proud of myself for this preparedness. When she sees from my card that I'm an American I'm dealt with lightly. She suggests a couple of museums I “should” see.

I have a large bag. I open it and see the two raincoats I had bought earlier for a very good price, this being China. The coats come out, and so does a brown liquid. One of the coats was supposed to be the traditional raincoat tan, and the other, brown. The attempt to dye one brown has not been successful, but neither has it damaged either coat. “What,” I wonder, “am I supposed to do with two identical coats?” I decide to give one to Barbara. It occurs to me that Barbara might not want one of these, she can be very particular at times. Then what? I'm not sure. I go I search of the museums the authority recommended, but there are so many that I don't think I'll be able to locate these particular two. I would like to see them.

Interpretation: Dreams are usually triggered by something from the day or two before the dream, and it's sometimes helpful to figure out what. In this dream, the search for the museums was sparked by a television news segment on Burma that showed very large, deserted public buildings. Getting a pass for being an American echoed a story I'd heard the night before from a Jeopardy contestant who was traveling in a foreign country when he missed the last train of the day and the waiting room closed. He resorted to sleeping in the hallway.  A cop came along and said, “Oh, I thought you were a bum; but I see you're an American.”

For its own reasons, the dream generator put these things together. Why? An inner authority figure (the Chinese dictator) who knows who I am (she's seen my ID card) tells me to look at some old stuff (go to some museums). My protective gear (raincoats) is not what I expected, and I find I have more than I need. It protects me from water signaling that it's there to shield me from emotion--tears, grief. My inner artist (Barbara) is likely to spurn this protection, and that makes me uneasy. I haven't yet brought to consciousness the particular old stuff I'm meant to see—unless it my dawning realization of how many people were good to me, and how irretrievably lost to me they are.

At Last I Count

Another dream in the series that shows some sort of psychic “progress.”  
The Dream: In a contest to place a noose-like rope around a hook that is far above. To get to it I have to climb, and then balance on the knob of a dresser pull. I don't think I can do it. It looks precarious, scary, impossible. A kind and patient person shows me how: in some inexplicable way the feat is related to some sort of artistic achievement. I try, and to my joy I find it feels very secure and easy! I am thrilled and surprised. I go back down, trying to remember which drawer I balanced on and not sure I know how I did it, but very pleased with myself. I think I might have won the competition. I am given a fat business envelope with a glassine window. My name is written in a foreign language, and there is no recognizable last name, but the title, in Italian, of countess follows my name.

Interpretation: I need to win out over something that is choking me (the noose), and to do it I have to stretch myself in a way that I find uncomfortable and scary. An inner guide (the kind and patient person) shows me the way. The artistic achievement is a metaphor for my spiritual path, and the effort that becomes effortless signals a breakthrough. Having succeeded in passing the (con)test I'm given an affirmation (I'm a countess: one who counts) even though it's still difficult for me to understand (it's in a foreign language).

My Niche

The Dream: Clark and I, both dressed so eclectically that we resemble hobos, are walking in a foreign city. We are near a closed bank with an open foyer. I need to adjust the laces on my hiking shoes so I enter, park myself in a niche and get to work. Clark sits in another niche while he waits for me.

The tellers arrive: their work station is directly across from me. One young lady with short blond hair and glasses begins to make loud and unpleasant comments, saying I don’t belong here. I work on my shoes, determined to ignore her but nevertheless I feel uncomfortable. When I’m done I look for Clark, who I had thought was nearby silently supporting me by also refusing to move. However, I notice he has already high-tailed it, so I go outside to find him.

Interpretation: I wander in alien territory (a foreign city) with my animus (Clark). We don’t fit in here (we are dressed creatively but inappropriately). So—I’m out of place, and in some way I am stuck: my shoes, the things that enable me to stand on my own two feet and to move in comfort, need adjustment. I find my niche and attempt to fix the problem.

The blond teller represents someone I know in waking life who is very interested in making money from her talent, so she represents the part of me that would like to do the same. She tries to dislodge me from my comfortable niche, and I try to ignore her. My discomfort tells me that I’m not immune to her criticism. In other words, I live in a commercial world, and a part of me disdains my inner “artist” for failing to succeed financially.  The part of me that deals with the world in a practical way (my animus Clark) does not support my retreat to a comfortable but unprofitable niche. To integrate these two adverse factions (practical vs. artistic) I have to leave my comfort zone (the niche) and go outside.

Empathy in an Artifact

The Dream: I’m in a foreign country. A woman is digging in a sandy spot, with water puddling in the hole as she digs. The location is a city square. It isn’t green, with trees and grass, but more like a European town square with packed sandy earth.  At one point I hear that we are in Mesopotamia, and at another that we are in a Mediterranean country.

I watch the woman dig; her action seems inappropriate, considering how she is dressed and her age: she’s middle class and middle aged. I become excited and say, “When I lived in England I wrote a novel, and I got the idea for it doing what you’re doing: I was digging with my children.” 

Clark says, “You can often find artifacts.” He begins to dig in or near the woman’s spot and in short order extracts a circular clay piece with what appears to be a primitive god in the center. I wonder if we can keep this interesting object or whether we are legally required to turn it in. I want it.

Later we are sitting at a table, the three of us. Clark is to my right; the woman to my left. When Clark passes the artifact to me I plan to slip it into my carrier bag. He hands it to me, but rather than the clay sculpture it is a picture of the artifact on shiny photographic paper, with a list of the god’s attributes to the right. There are four, and the 3^rd one is “empathy.”

 “Empathy?” I think. “That’s an odd trait for a primitive god.”

Interpretation: Something is coming up from underneath. The puddling water tells me that unconscious material is coming to the surface. To start, let’s take a look at the geometric symbols in this dream: there’s the city “square,” the round clay artifact and the square table where we later sit. The square and the circle are both symbols of what Jung calls the Self, in other words, the combination my consciousness (what I’m aware of) and my unconscious (what I’m unaware of thinking or feeling). Dream are road maps, telling us where we are on the path to individuation, another Jungian term for the process of incorporating our unconscious material into our conscious awareness. 

The middle aged woman is me, digging into my dreams and bringing unconscious material to the surface. When I am joined by my husband Clark (my other half) and my children (the curious, experimental, engaged parts of myself) an artifact (a long-buried, but new to me, part of myself) quickly appears. This is something I want, even though I have some qualms about my right to have it.

Later, at the table (have the gifts from the unconscious been tabled?), I plot to steal the artifact. But I can’t do it. It turns into a representation of itself, becoming as ephemeral as the dream that engendered it.  But it does have a message for me, “Empathy.”

Up a Tree

The Dream: At the back of a rectangular garden bordering a park a woman is trussed up in a tree in a pose resembling a yoga back bend. The house and garden belong to me, although they have an English feeling. The event takes place on the other side of my fence so it’s not on my property, but there is some confusion about who is responsible for this patch of land adjacent to mine. The “city” claims it is the homeowner. I don’t feel it is, but my original certitude on this point is shaken by the city’s unexpected position. In any event, the girl is rescued and released from her bondage up the tree.

Interpretation: I am in a difficult position, up a tree and bending over backward to please. My Unconscious won’t let me get away with blaming others for this dilemma—it points out that the house and the garden (where I live and where I am) belong to me, even though they may feel foreign (English). The dream ego is at pains to put up a wall (fence) between me and the problem, but my own deeper wisdom (the central authority: the city) insists otherwise. When I start to see its point (I am not so certain that it’s not my responsibility), I am rescued.