The Synthesis

When a dream character's behavior seems baffling, it's a good idea to look at the person and ask yourself what part of you they might represent. Often you'll discover they represent those parts you don't acknowledge.
The Dream: I am visiting my friend Janet. I have some children but they are in the background, not the focus of attention. Janet dislikes children, and I know it. I'm using her sink. I notice for the first time that it is a very tall pipe that drips into a bathtub. The water turns on and off via a pull chain. I am surprised to see, in her modernist apartment, that she has a bathtub in what was once a kitchen and that she now uses this space as her living room. When I see it I become nostalgic for an apartment I left long ago that had a tub in the kitchen. I notice that the center of the room has an island with gas and water hook-ups for a kitchen, exposed, with no attempt at aesthetics.

The room is airy and spacious, with a large sofa off to the side. I suggest to Janet that she make this large room back into a kitchen and use the one off to the right, the current kitchen, for her sitting room.

The children, now dogs, come running through and spit up on Janet's throw pillows. She thinks it's a big job to remove the pillow cases for laundering. I am surprised that she is making such a fuss over such a small job. I start to help her and do it quickly and easily, thinking that she has no house-wife skills. I feel superior that I do.

Interpretation: Janet, a very intellectual and independent friend, represents those parts of me. In waking life as in the dream she has no patience for the maternal. She can't manage the unpredictable, messy parts of life. With her as my proxy, I reject the instinctual (the dogs) and the not-yet-formed (children) parts of myself. In the dream I suggest she move her creative center, as symbolized by the kitchen, to a larger space, once that is both plumbed to do the job and has a comfortable place to rest (the sofa). My way to grow is to use the skills I'm so proud of in the dream to move my psychic home to a new contemporary space.

A Party for Emily

Sometimes dream events seems downright mysterious. A friend and I appeared to communicate through our dreams the night after I posted The Unmade Bed . Each of us “sees” a part of the other's psyche in a surprising way.
The Dream: I am at Emily's house. A group of her friends are preparing a party for her, scurrying around. Emily suggests to me that we go outside. When we were inside the house it was raining, but we know that when we go outside the sun will shine.

While I am glad to have an excuse to get out of helping with the party prep, at the same time I feel guilty about leaving the work to others. I look over at the rest of the group, and I can sense that they want me to take Emily outside so they can surprise her. This is a relief. I get to do what I want to do with no discomfort.

As we start to head outside, Emily offers me slippers. She puts a couple of pairs before me so I can choose. One pair is much too big, and other is only slightly too big.

Interpretation: Emily has been a frequent contributor to this blog; over the years she has shared many valuable insights about dreams via the comment section. The interesting thing here is that just as I was dreaming that Emily was so loved that a group was preparing a surprise party for her, she was dreaming about feeling alone and unloved. At the same time Emily's comments took The Unmade Bed in a spiritual direction, an interpretation I had not thought of.  In today's dream, which I had before I read her comments, together we walk out into the light (the spiritual realm or consciousness) after a stint of being in the unconscious (the dream world, symbolized by the rain).

Emily gives me the shoes I need for my spiritual journey (the slippers) even if it's clear I still need to grow into them. And my dream helps her to realize that she is surrounded by love in the here and now.

Gifts of Gold

So many different facets come together in your dreams. The jewels in this one represent several things, from a parent's gifts to the many faces of a relationship over time. I bet you can find a few more.

The Dream: My boyfriend has proposed. He is Dutch: stolid and stern. At first I like him, but over time I discover that he's overly directive and demanding. As I see these traits emerge, I want to end the relationship. He has given me some very beautiful gold jewellery.

I've gone too far by promising marriage, and I realize with some discomfort that I'm already married. I brainstorm with a woman friend about how to break up. “Why don't I just tell him the truth, that I'm already married?” I suggest.

“Oh, no!” she replies. She councils a subterfuge; so I tell the man, as kindly as I can, that marriage is not for me: I want to be free and independent. He is disappointed and appears hurt and vulnerable, a side of him I had not seen before. I feel bad for him. He takes the breakup well, and is not at all unkind.

I still have the beautiful jewelry that he gave me. I say to my friend, “I'm not going to offer to return it.” I'm happy to have these things.

Interpretation: This was triggered by my work on another woman's dream that I saw as dealing with her feelings about her father. The stern and demanding lover, someone I perceived in different ways over time, stands-in for the life stages of the daughter, from adoring small child to rebellious adolescent. As a small child I wanted to marry dad, but as I grew I wanted to escape him and his authority. In this dream I begin to appreciate the gifts of pure gold that he gave me, and I'm not willing to relinquish them. It's significant that he does not ask for them: they are his gifts to me, mine to keep.

Compassion

As if to form a counterpoint to the previous two “laughing” dreams, last night's was horrific.

The Dream: My best friend from high school is going to be tortured and killed. She will have her skin removed and then be executed. I am distraught and hope that she will be killed before she is flayed; thinking of this procedure has made me hysterical with anguish.

After a while she returns. She has obviously been hurt, tortured, beaten, but she's alive and has her skin. It seems her ordeal is over. I am afraid she's going to tell me about her experience, and I don't want to know: it's too upsetting.

Interpretation: A friend from the past is having her skin removed; the friend is from my vulnerable teenage, high school years. One of the triggers was someone else's dream that I had read the night before that featured underwear falling down. Both the skin being removed and the underwear falling down represent an exposure. At the same time, I was reading Elaine Pagel's book on the gospel of Thomas (a name similar to my friend's last name). Pagels lists the tortures and ignominious deaths meted out to Christians.

This distressing dream tells me something I had not realized: that my distancing myself from the suffering of others (not exposing myself to it) comes from my reaction to their pain and, at a deeper level, to my own. I turn away; I try to ignore it—because it is so fundamentally upsetting. Just as my friend has survived the dream ordeal,  I can survive becoming aware of  painful events that occurred long ago. And once I can accept that, I will be a more compassionate person.

The Rape

The Dream: A woman is friends with a man. We are living in a shared space. I leave them to go into another room. Soon I hear the woman screaming for me, horribly distressed. I find her in the bathroom. The toilet seat is up and she has immersed her bottom in the water, which is tinged with blood. It's clear to me that she has been raped by her “loving” friend. Shall I call 911?” I say. She doesn't answer. “I'll call 911,” I say, leaving her to look for a phone. This nightmare awakens me.

Interpretation: At the time of this dream I belonged to a book club sponsored by a Christian church. The meeting devolved into a discussion of the participants' personal beliefs. As I listened to others talk about “faith” and “belief” and “Christianity” I realized how alien I find these ideas. While the dream was triggered by media stories about rape, and certainly reflects the vulnerability that women face, the underlying issue for me is the rape of the intellect that I feel as a participant in a Christian group. I feel I'm not allowed to express my honest thoughts. This leaves me feeling my intellect (logical mind) has been raped; who I am (my self) denied.

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.

Looking for a Florentine Cathedral

The Dream: I am wandering around in a vast underground space trying to find the entrance to a particular Florentine Church. Often I am misdirected. I ask people, and they send me to areas of a labyrinthine building that I have already fruitlessly explored. At one point a college friend is with me, very pleased because a man has given her an open bottle of wine with about a third remaining. She happily swills from the bottle. I suggest she's being foolish: who knows what contaminant it might contain?

At one point we're directed into a particular church, and it almost seems almost right, but not quite. The decoration is Florentine; there are very large flowers around the interior. We peek inside another church and see a performance taking place—that's not right either. I feel anxious. I'm going to be late. I hope to get to the right church before time runs out.

Interpretation: Florence is associated with the Renaissance, rebirth. I'm searching at an unconscious (underground) level for my spiritual rebirth. No one can direct me; their suggestions lead to dead ends. I'm running out of time to find my spiritual home, the place where I feel I am expected and have a role to play. The wine offered by a person who has no guidance to give might be dangerous. One part of me wants to enjoy its superficial pleasure, while another is cautious.

Cast Not the First Stone

The Dream: I'm in a living room with a long mural that I had painted, made up of several separate pieces the same dimensions as a series of family history embroideries I had made in waking life. My brother and his friend have painted over the mural to shift the color to a different, warm shade of brown. They are pleased with themselves and feel this is an improvement. I am incensed, perhaps even more so because it is a rather nice shade. I yell at them enthusiastically, but it seems they are impervious to my attacks; as people used to say, “They couldn't care less.” I'm as frustrated by their lack of seeing the insult they've perpetrated as I am by what they did. “You have denigrated my work!” I say.

Getting no satisfaction from them, I declare that I will never again come into this room. The next scene, however, finds me in it. My brother is now without his mocking friend. I try again to get him to see the gravity of his sin, and he says, “Now you know how I felt when you . . . . “ I don't remember what he accused me of, but I do remember I had done what he said, and that I, like him, had been unaware of its impact on the other.

Interpretation: The dream was triggered by a falling out between a couple of distant family members, and my realization that their anger and frustration with each other is rooted in their shared past (the family history embroideries).

The dream has an interesting resolution: I go back into the living room (the place where I live) and realize that I have done exactly the same thing that I was angry at my brother for doing. In other words, I've taken on the role that a family member once played: since I do the same thing that my dream brother has done, I am the critic who denigrates my work. I am doing it to myself.

The dream tells me a few important things: First, it's time to lighten up. Second, it is time to learn how to accept a good criticism (the new color is actually an improvement), and third, my family history holds the key to my overly critical thoughts.

It's Just Not "Me"

The Dream: My friend Joyce has mailed me a box full of things she has cleared out and no longer wants. I go through it and show a man's sweater to Clark. It's a nice sweater, but not at all his style. He doesn't want it, and I find I'm annoyed at Joyce for giving this stuff to me.

Interpretation: This goes back to a very old feeling. My dear mother didn't understand that she and I were two different people. She gave me lovely things that she would have been thrilled to get, especially as the poor child she had been. As an adolescent, I resented being given these things that I didn't want, that weren't “me,” and that, nevertheless, I was obliged to feel grateful for. I felt guilty about my inner resentment, and perhaps the dream has come to allow me to feel it without judgment.

On Love

The Dream: I am walking with my friend/lover/soul mate. We stop to sit on the curb by the side of the road. I say, “It's hard to be in a sexual relationship with a good friend.” I think about this for a while. “I'm so afraid!”

I feel the fear. I wonder about the alternative: anonymous sex? He says, “I know.” He lifts me from the curb and enfolds me, gently and lovingly, in his arms.

Interpretation: The sexual relationship represents the vulnerability of giving myself, of being open. This leads to inevitable pain. Right before having the dream I had visited a very ill relative, and I was forcefully reminded of the separation that mortality entails. I saw the relative's spouse in unspeakable pain at her husband's inevitable succumbing to death, as we all must. Strong attachments, as the Buddhists say, are one source of pain in the world. But I don't agree that the solution is not to have them, that seems not only cowardly, but life-denying.

In this dream the stronger part of myself, the male friend/lover, knows what the curbed part doesn't. He lifts her to her feet, and they embrace: a symbolic acceptance of love with both its joys and sorrows. Love is shown to be a totality of communication and involvement, made up of both the spiritual (friendship) and the physical (sex), important here as the grounded, if mortal, part of us.

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.

The Fossil

The Dream: I'm on a trip with some friends, in the mountains. We've just heard that a special and unusual geologic phenomenon is nearby, some sort of extruded fossil. The fossil is a stream of igneous rock. It's very rare and special. We've gone to the venue and are standing in line waiting to be admitted and very excited about it: it's something to see!

I get a phone call. I'm not sure who it is, I think it's Dona K. Since I'm not sure, I make conversation for a while hoping she'll say something that will confirm her identity. I ask how she's doing. She says something tragic has happened. When I try to figure out what, she says they've all gone back to college. This doesn't sound tragic to me; I try to figure out why she thinks so—does it cost too much? I don't know. She has some black sons.

Interpretation: Many of my interests, even my way of being in the world, is becoming outdated, fossilized. There are good things about these interests, they are rare and special, but the phone call I get suggests I need to look at some of their other aspects. My friend Dona, being very conservative, represents the part of me that is the same. I'm out of touch with this part of myself; I'm not even sure I can identify it (I'm not sure who's calling.) My inner conservative sees the quest for knowledge as “tragic.” The dream tells me that learning something new (getting a new insight or doing something in a new way) might be expensive (cost too much, be difficult), but it isn't tragic. Dona's black sons represent the part of me that is the opposite of conservative: my fertile imagination, the place where new growth can appear. The dream tells me to embrace the part of myself that loves the traditional, but to use what's old in new ways. This is where I will find my new growth.

A Friendly Oppressor

The Dream: I'm at a large dinner party. My older brother is sitting at the table, about three-quarters of the way down from me. I'm near, or at, one of the heads. I am crying because my other brother has died. A young woman, a friend, sits on my lap. At first I think this is a joke, but after a while I realize there are no other seats and she means to stay. This begins to feel oppressive.

Interpretation: I don't have the inner resources to take care of a need (there are not enough seats for all at the table). I only have my head (logic). Yet feeling cannot be denied, and I am crying. My brother's death, and the realization that I am three-quarters through my own life, is the oppressive thing that sits on me and won't go away. It's no joke. Yet my oppressor is friendly, why is that? Because she is there to teach me an important lesson, to make me aware that death is a reality I shouldn't run from, but must accept.

What Am I Shutting Out?

The Dream: Clark and I and two friends, Tom and Joan, are sitting on the floor in a circle. Tom is being very sweet and congenial, but I feel angry and resentful toward him; I'm not ready to forgive his past bad behavior.

Clark doesn't seem bothered at all, in fact he quickly builds a wooden shutter for the guest room window. The morning sun is very bright in there, and he wants to screen it out so that the room is more comfortable. He builds a 4-panelled folding screen, but doesn't paint or finish it. He decides to put it in the guest room closet: when someone visits he'll finish it.

Interpretation: This unforgiven friend, Tom, is a screen for a part of myself that I find unacceptable. In the beginning of the dream the four dream actors are together; the circle they sit in emphasizes their unity and tells me they are all part of the same thing: me, in this case. Even the unacceptable one, the one I resent, is congenial.

My husband, who represents my animus, doesn't see—or admit—that there's a problem. Even as he denies the difficulty he works to shut out the light (awareness), making the excuse that the room is more comfortable this way. This tells me that I really don't want to see this—it's too uncomfortable. The screen has four panels, echoing the four dream actors and Jung's four aspects of the Self. It isn't finished, but closeted (hidden away). This difficulty will be worked on again when the next guest (insightful dream) arrives at my house.

What's After Me?

The Dream: This dream features a good friend, Alex. I'm in an airport and I see her. I'm pregnant and I want to tell her. Meanwhile, she is being pursued by several political groups who want to kill her. As she tells me this, in her perky, irreverent way, I realize that there are also groups out to kill me. I want to wait for the right moment to tell her I'm pregnant, but since time is short as we elude our various pursuers I blurt it out. She seems happy about it, but distracted.

Interpretation: My friend Alex died 10 years ago. I'm in an airport, in other words, something in my life is about to take off. My new direction is emphasized by the new baby I want to tell her about. But Alex and I are both being pursued: the dream is encouraging me to think about what comes after us, in other words, what legacy will I leave behind? I need to evaluate my new baby, that is, my new direction or interest, in the framework of what it leaves to others after I've passed on, as my friend has.

Guest Dreamer: Hand or Foot?

After reading Who Did I Leave Behind, about the loss of a loved one, Bhilal sent me this dream.

Background: I found my friend, Robbie, that I had searched for for a long time, I found her obituary. I don't know if I'm grieving for my friend , Robbie or celebrating finding her, a combination of both I imagine... but I had to see her picture again and I feel the presence of so many of my friends and relatives that have passed away and it is a warm feeling love and caring...I guess it is not my love or their love because love is not possessed.

The Dream: Robbie would dream of coats of arms , families etc. because she had been adopted and didn't know her family and craved to belong..I went into a sleep that resulted in my being involved in enslavement. I had to find a password or gesture to release me. I was lost in an oriental commerce system..each window or door had to be stamped or marked paid or they would arrest you and enslave you ... I became a giant but was still lost couldn't find a direction.. the member? of different races of the orientals helped me shrink again and presented me either formed hand images or feet images to select from...a nightmare, a hell between worlds.

Carla's thoughts: I'll react to Bhilal's dream as if it were my own. She will be the judge of whether or not my thoughts are relevant for her. My dream has put me in a place where something foreign to me (oriental commerce) is controlling me. Since this dream followed my search for my dead friend and came at a time when I was thinking about others I've lost, the foreign thing that confronts me is my helplessness in the face of mortality. Windows and doors enable us to see beyond where we are and to go from one place to another—mine present difficulties. This tells me I haven't come up with my own spiritual truth, something I can see through the window of my soul, that will enable me to pass from the earthly realm (go out the door) comfortably. I am expected to pay for access to my windows and doors; what is demanded of me? If I don't mark each window and door as “paid” I will be arrested (stopped) and enslaved (not able to go where I wish). There is something I need to discover (the password or gesture) that will release me from this horrible situation.

I become a giant (there's more to me than I thought), but I'm not in touch with my entire capacity yet, so I am still lost. The part of myself that I feel no affinity for, the foreign part, shrinks me back down to the size it's comfortable with. I'm given a choice: hands or feet. Hands allow me to “handle” my reality, and feet give me freedom of movement. Being forced to choose creates a nightmare. Perhaps if I can stop myself from running away (feet) and begin to handle (hands) the realities that I find difficult to accept I will no longer be enslaved by my grief.

Room to Expand

The Dream: I'm in a camper with my husband and some friends. It's very comfortable, but I realize after a while that we have forgotten to put the slide out. Polly is with us, so I get her to check that there's enough room outside. She says there is. I push the button, thinking my friends will be impressed with this wonderful trailer. I am tentative about extending the slide, and I look to reassure myself there is indeed no obstacle for it to run into. Even though there isn't, I still stop short a couple of times. But with encouragment from Clark I finally put it all the way out.

Interpretation: I am a person who finds it difficult to put herself out there. I'm in a comfortable place, but I could do more; maybe I've been sliding. I get a friend to check to see if there is room for this expansion, in other words, for me to grow by pushing myself out into the world. She tells me I can do it, and I think people will be favorably impressed—nevertheless I am tentative: I need reassurance; I keep stopping short. At last my animus kicks in and I am brave enough to extend myself.

A Failed Artist

The Dream: I'm with my mother and two friends. We start to head up to my walk-up apartment. As we are climbing the stairs I say to my mother, “I guess you're wondering why I always live in a 5th floor walk-up?” I mean this as a joke on the effort the stairs require, but it's not actually a negative to me. “Not at all,” says my mother. “It's because you are a failed artist.”

I'm stung by this, but don't feel I can deny the truth of it. I would have preferred she acknowledge the accomplishment of what I've achieved—a certain level of skill, undeniably--than to focus on my utter lack of commercial success. Then too, I don't think commercial success is what I'm after. Nevertheless, I see the career building strategies of a successful artist friend in a new light. It least she isn't seen as a failure.

Mother collapses onto the floor, and I'm afraid the effort of climbing the stairs has given her a heart attack. I bend over her, very concerned, but not ready to call the paramedics: her color looks good and I think she'll snap out of it. I feel, once the crisis has past, that I owe my friends an explanation. “I've been through this so many times before,” I say.

My friends give me gifts. One is a fused glass piece, a tube sprouting a plant. It's roots are in the tube; an exotic flower drapes out.

Interpretation: Ha! My conundrum in a nutshell: one part of me, the internalized critical mother, wants to know why I'm not a commercial success. In our culture money equals value, and if you can't show a profit you and your product must be worthless. Another part, the one that is happy to live on a higher level and doesn't mind the difficulty that entails, sees my art making as a spiritual practice and has no interest in monetizing it, only wants a bit of recognition for what she's accomplished. My critical mother collapses from the effort of the ascent, but I know she'll revive. After all, I've been through this many times.

The friends, protectors of my calling, give me a work of art: nature transformed into a glass object that could last--or might just as easily break.

Fretwork Woman

The Dream: My artist friend P wants to get together but I keep putting her off. After a while I can tell she doesn't believe my excuses, and it's true they are a lack of enthusiasm rather than anything concrete. I just don't feel like getting together. I see an image of a very tall female figure made of interconnected open shapes, a figure made of fretwork.

Interpretation: My friend P represents my inner artist. She is upset and hurt that I don't want to engage with her. I'm feeling too low for creative play. The dream tells me to stop fretting before that's all that's left of me.

The Missing Stroller

The Dream: I'm at a theatrical fund raiser. The event hasn't started. I've brought a friend's baby stroller as a donation. I had admired it, and she said she was going to get rid of it, so I offered to bring it to this worthy cause.

The event isn't well organized. I wander about trying to figure out who to give the stroller to. I decide to leave it near a downward spiraling ramp while I make some inquiries. I wonder if someone might run off with it, but reject the idea. Who would take a baby stroller?

Of course when I return, someone has. I am anxious, wondering how I'll explain this to my friend. I look everywhere, hoping the stroller will turn up. It doesn't, and I find out the organization wouldn't have accepted it in any case. Now my dilemma: am I obligated to buy my friend a new stroller? I don't want to, and I rationalize that she was going to junk it anyway—yet I feel replacing it is the right thing to do. I rehearse how I'll break the news to her, shortening the time of my absence, (“I turned my back for a moment and it was gone.”) and neglecting to mention I had entertained the possibility it might be stolen. (“I was shocked to find it gone.”) Despite these adjustments to reality, I can't get over feeling I should replace what I have lost.

Later this friend and I are at the fund raiser. In an inner sanctum the trope performs while we lounge like Romans in what looks like a city storefront. We're lined up perpendicular to the window on mattresses placed directly on the floor. I offer to replace the darn stroller, although I still don't feel I should have to. A big, heavy man is on my right; my friend on my left. At some point the man, about the size and girth of Doc Martin on TV, rolls over onto me in such a way that I fall off my mattress and am directly on the floor, with him partially on top of me. I complain, and he gives me a coupon to his restaurant and leaves. I study this list of freebies carefully, realizing that I can take someone with me--the coupon is a twofer.

Interpretation: This dream highlights a conflict between strolling around (taking it easy) and fulfilling my obligations. In the beginning I try to combine the two by donating my easy-going self (the stroller) to a good cause. In this misguided effort the easy-going self is taken away and, worse, I'm left with the moral dilemma of feeling I have to replace what wasn't wanted in the first place. I try to get around the problem by misrepresenting my responsibility for what happened, but that doesn't work either. When I finally face up to my responsibility by offering to replace what I've lost I'm ready to face one final challenge. A big, heavy (and grumpy—if he's anything like Doc Martin) man pushes me off the soft, comfortable spot (the mattress) and weighs me down. This man, situated to my right, symbolizes all the law and order, rules and must-do's that I've internalized. My complaint is a cry for freedom, and he responds by giving it to me (freebies). That the gift is a twofer tells me that not only can I (the responsible one) be nourished at his restaurant, but I can bring my inner stroller as well.