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Sometimes it will take you a few nights of dreaming on the same topic to clarify an on-going issue that you're subconsciously trying to sort out.  This dream gave me a slightly different understanding of the “actor” in A Long Row of Happy Dead, the previous post. And, since we've been looking at dream images, I'll point out that the dress color plays a role.

The Dream: I'm on an outdoor, open-sided stage, a platform. I fall forward, collapsing face down. My head hangs over the front edge.  People flee in all directions, afraid they'll catch what I've got. No one helps. A doctor comes forward and admonishes the others. “It's not contagious,” he says. I'm dressed in a pretty, feminine style, in a dress with a flared skirt like those from the 50s.

Interpretation: Am I ready to collapse? Actors are performers, and the key to this dream is my realization that I've been straining too hard to “perform.” I am experiencing a feeling of social isolation: people flee, and no one wants to help. I'm dressed in a feminine style that hints at my taxing “role” being mired in the obligations of wife and mother. The blue dress says I'm not happy about the situation. (Am I blue?)

I learned the feminine role in the 50s, from a mother who performed it par excellence, but at a cost to herself and to the family who became disenchanted, over the years, at her tendency to do too much and then play the martyr. My dream warns me not to do that by pointing out that it's exhausting me and has no upside: it doesn't win social acceptance or love.

A Long Row of Happy Dead

Sometimes the only part of a dream that you'll remember is an arresting image. It's particularly important to attempt to illustrate these dreams if you want to penetrate what the dream means to you.

A Dream Image: This was part of a longer dream, but I don't remember it—except that there was a man, about 48, sitting in a chair. He had a few days growth of beard like a contemporary actor, and looked like one. He was someone's father. We went to where he was sitting and realized he was dead. Then we noticed a row of seated people with very large heads and over-sized, odd faces. They were all dead, leaning comfortably and companionably on one another.

Interpretation: Since what I remembered of this dream had no narrative, its meaning could only be unlocked by thinking about the image it created. As I developed the image a couple of things surprised me. First, the characters were indeed comfortable, and second, I chose to paint them in cheerful colors. Could these dead characters represent parts of myself that had had a “life” and were satisfied with what it had been, in other words, fulfilled? If that's the case they could indeed lounge comfortably and companionably, leaving behind the things I sometimes associate with the past: mistakes, failures, losses. It's as if they are saying, “That's over now.”

The one differentiated character is an actor, and aren't we all actors in our own life drama? He's “contemporary,” so he's been alive for me until this dream. My dream is telling me to follow the path of authenticity—the “actor” is dead, and that's a good thing. Since he was someone's father, he was instrumental in giving birth to the one who goes on, but he and his fellow dead, with their distorted heads (over-sized intellects) won't be going forward into my future. The light and bright colors tell me this is a happy development.

Re-Birth

 

Dreams often try to point out that we are, as Marie-Louise von Franz has said, our own difficulty.
The Dream: I'm at a Rehab center. Most of the attendees are young, and I think, “I'm too old for this.” Some of the rehabilitated leave, through a chute, in enclosed carts. At first I think that these are wheelchair substitutes, but then they get off their little conveyances and walk away. They are children with large heads, figures I've often seen in other dreams.

Interpretation: I think that I'm too old to change, but if I can discover the part of me that's still growing (the child) I might be able to overcome the things that limit me (the things that need rehabilitation: the handicaps a wheelchair symbolizes). Once I go down through the narrow chute (experience such a new way of thinking that it seems like rebirth), I'll be able to walk on my own two feet. The overly large heads and small bodies of the children point out that my capabilities need to catch up with my ideas, and those ideas might be inflated.

A Portrait

The Dream: A woman and I are sitting at a table, across from each other. We're each drawing portraits, straight-on heads. I am the teacher. She's very skillful; my criticism of her work is that it lacks feeling. I take her drawing and, with her permission, make corrections. I change the mouth, making it a vibrant pink and somewhat pouty, or sensual. My other criticism is that the portrait is vague: it's very soft and lacks definition, with one color bleeding into the next.

Interpretation: The Unconscious gives me a drawing lesson! The artist I'm instructing in this dream reminds me of an egg tempera painter who wanted to meet me; she came to my house as an acolyte. When she showed me her paintings it was clear that she was highly skilled—more so than I—in handling the medium. Yet she was not satisfied with her work because, she said, it lacked imagination. This was true. As with many painters, her skill exceeded her conception. Yet she loved painting, and enjoyed her chosen subject matter. Of course I complimented her skill. I said that it only made sense for her to do what resonated with her. I suggested keeping a dream journal if she wanted to develop some original ideas.

In the dream I admire the artist's skill but feel she needs more expression, as symbolized by my “fixing” the mouth, the organ of speech. So the message for me is, of course to express myself.

When I tried drawing the face this artist drew in the dream I learned something about how to use color pencils—that is, very softly and delicately, building up color with gentle iterations. I tend to jump to the finish immediately, and that can make me heavy-handed, a hard thing to recover from! So the dream taught me this about self-expression: take it easy; let it develop; don't jump in with too much clarity and definition. The things I criticize in the dream artist are exactly what I need to do.

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.

The Goldilocks Dilemma

The Dream: Clark and I are looking at a house. I'm confused about the price: at first it seems a good buy, then later I realize it's not quite affordable. The kitchen has a lowered cooking and prepping area; I surmise this is for a wheel-chair user, and I think this might be why the place hasn't sold. I wonder if I could use it with a wheeled office chair, and if it might actually be nice to be able to sit down while I cook. A young boy with a very small body and a very large head comes in. I figure out that the low cooking station is for him. Then I notice another stove—but it's too high: I wouldn't be able to reach it. Finally I see a normal height gas range with about 6 burners. This kitchen can accommodate every size cook. I am relieved.

Interpretation: I am looking for a new way of being: the new home I'm searching for is a metaphor for my need to transform (move) my inner life. At first I think it will be easy for me (a good buy), but then doubt sets in: perhaps this change is too difficult, will cost me too much (it's not affordable). Kitchens in dreams represent areas where transformation takes place, and this particular kitchen presents me with choices similar to those faced by Goldilocks: one area is too low; another too high; finally I see one that is just right. Although my initial reaction was to try to accommodate myself to an area created for a much smaller person, a better choice is there, waiting for me. Why am I relieved that the kitchen can accommodate every size cook? Because the best part of the dream's message is that what's most comfortable for me doesn't require other parts of myself, the parts that feel too big or too little, to have no role in creating the total person.We can all cook together and, unlike Goldilocks, I won't have to run away.

Nowhere to Hide

The Dream: I'm on an iceberg in a frozen world. I am taking part in a documentary meant to demonstrate how a person can create an ice fortress for protection from roaming beasts.

I have my own patch of territory, a rectangle marked with an edge of shoveled snow. The beasts begin to appear. I demonstrate how to make a small mound to hide behind. After I make the mound I'm told to crouch behind it, cradling my head in my arms. Even as I do this I have doubts that it will work. In the first place, the mound is a pile of dark earth. It seems to me that against the white snow this will only call attention to my hiding place. Next, as I try to hide behind it and tuck my head down I realize I can't see what's going on, and I don't see how that's going to help me avoid a predator.

Interpretation: This dream shows me that my defenses are useless. I've tried to make myself safe by isolating myself on a frozen patch (a place free of emotion). Yet the only way the rectangular territory is cut off from its greater environment is visually; it's ridiculously simple for any threat to breach the boundary. And the threats do come, in the form of wild animals (my unacknowledged strong feelings). My attempts to hide from these are ludicrous and only make me more vulnerable.

It's interesting that I'm making a documentary, perhaps a symbol for my dream journal. I'm following the dictates of the “director” as I build my idiotic “fortress.” The message here is that I will not find my safe place—the place where I can live—by following the path laid out for me by others. In the final dream sequence the fact that I'm questioning what I've been told will keep me “safe” is a kind of progress.

Men in Hats

Dream Image: A panel with three heads in 16^th c. hats.

Interpretation: The hats represent the different roles I play; the date (16^th c) tells me that these roles were defined for me sometime in the past, perhaps when I was 16. The green background, alluding to growth, says it’s time to grow past these old ways of being in the world: it’s time for a change, and I need to remember that change starts with a rearrangement of my fixed ideas, in other words, in the head beneath the hat.

My Ant is Lanced

Molestation in the news triggers a childhood "memory."

The Dream: A very tough-looking guy is in charge of a peculiar ant-like creature. The ant has a perfectly round head and a body made of transparent, glowing red-brown sections. The head is yellow ochre. It’s as if I am seeing an exposed skeleton, but on a living creature. The “ant” is very large, probably about 5 feet long. The man has several sets of paraphernalia resembling studded dog collars--but actually hand-cuffs--that he uses to control the ant. 

The man is balding with dark brown hair; his red face has a stubby growth of beard. He’s solid and a little overweight. He has belied his tough looks by being helpful to me, yet when I come in contact with some others we accuse him of rape. I know this is false, but having made a commitment to this accusation I cling to it. The man starts to remove his studded hand-cuffs from his wrists where he stores them, and I think he’s going to attack us. Instead he hangs the cuffs on a peg.

Later, apparently having resolved the “rape” issue I need the man to kill the insect. I have come to like the creature and can’t kill it myself. I also don’t want it to suffer; I want it killed quickly and mercifully. In addition I want to preserve its body, so I want it killed in a way that won’t damage its skeleton (body).

The man shakes his head gravely in assent as I explain this mission. I think he is attached to his charge, the ant, in a way, and doesn’t want someone inept bungling this deed. He says, “Most people don’t understand how to do this.”  He goes back a distance and charges the creature with a long pointed lance, making a terrible and fierce face as he does. I am alarmed by this look and surprised at the violence of the method. I think this will be messier than I had wished or anticipated.

He charges the ant, fracturing its large round head in two. The open half spheres are filled with a white thick substance that spills over the edges.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by news of a local molestation case. The young victim was abused by her swim coach; she had been primed for the abuse by being forced to swim laps wearing a dog-collar while she was held on a leash. The dream examines the confusion of a child’s first view of sex. Did I see my aunt (ant) and uncle, a good natured but tough guy, in the act when I was too young to understand what I was seeing?  I eliminate (kill) the aunt, whose skeleton body represents the bare bones of a knowledge I’m not ready to accept. Does this childish disgust and fear lurk behind my adult feelings about sex? Something to think about.

She's Trying to Tell Me Something

The Dream: I’m in a field. I see a head in a circle. I know the person has died and that this vision is very unusual. Even more unusual, the head—a youngish woman with brown hair—speaks to me. Something about this seems shamanistic or prophetic.

Interpretation: This dream points out that I am on my way toward resolving the conflict that the last several dreams have emphasized: social demands versus private needs. Tony Crisp says that a field (the place I see my dream vision) represents natural feelings or inclinations, or as he puts it: “freedom from social pressure, and the feeling you have about yourself when away from other people.”  The head that speaks to me is the part of me that I have enclosed in a protective circle and that has been quiet for so long I think she’s dead. Her speaking to me feels like a prophecy, a hopeful sign that I will begin to listen more closely to my awakened inner voice.

An Unusual Horse

This short dream is about the resolution of two opposing inner forces: one favors instinct, the other reason.

The Dream: I see a pony-sized horse with a very long body and a tiny head. It has a beautiful, shiny, black and white coat. Clark is brushing him. I think the animal is so homely that he’s cute.

Interpretation: In the telescoping way of dreams, this one tells us that it is about duality by juxtaposing three different qualities in the image of the horse: size (body, head); color (black, white); and attractiveness (homely, cute). The opposites I’m working to resolve are the instinctual (the horse) with reason (the head). The small size of the head signals a new direction for me, since I tend to over-intellectualize. The black and white of the pony’s coat echoes the Chinese yin yang, in other words, the coming together of opposites. My husband Clark (my other half) lovingly cares for the animal. My admiration for the pony in its imperfection (he’s so homely that he’s cute) symbolizes a new acceptance of my instinctive nature.  

The Need to Focus

The Dream: I have purchased a very large telescope, and I have a special observation room on the second floor. In the daytime I can see small aspects of life, as if I were looking through a microscope. I’m looking forward to what I’ll see at night.

I become aware that there are other “princesses” like me who have telescopes, only theirs come with harnesses for their heads that enable the device to track automatically. There’s no need for these users to refocus. I wish I had spent more money and gotten myself a telescope like theirs.

Interpretation: Nighttime, dream time, promises to reveal a deeper, more insightful, vision of life. I’m having some difficulty focusing on what is being revealed. A deeper commitment to the process, symbolized by my spending more money (effort) on my equipment (what I need), might solve the problem.

What’s Making My Head Hurt?

The Dream: I am in a large house. I hear my child crying out to me in distress. I don’t want to deal with her problem: I feel tired, but the insistence of her call provokes me to look for her. As I wander the hallways “in search of” I begin to feel distressed and worried, anxious to find her. A little panicky.

I find her in a room full of children, a primary school classroom. My child sits off to the left on a narrow table set at an oblique angle to the rest of the children, who sit quietly facing the front. She looks as I did at age seven, with blonde curly hair. There’s a big bandage across her head. She sees me, but does not acknowledge me. She wants no part of mother. I awaken as from a nightmare.

Interpretation: In the dream I have dark hair: I’ve become my mother. My child, with blonde hair (unlike my waking life daughter), is me. The well-behaved children who sit so quietly are passive receivers of instruction: cowed, proper, all alike, a nice row of good children. Something has whacked my (inner) child on the head, and she’s gained some independence, but at a cost. The adults who surround her are benign; she’s enjoying their attention as well as the empowerment that comes with rejecting her mother, who has arrived too late. Was age seven when I began to go my own way? To realize Mother can’t save me?

In Over My Head

The Dream: I am on a chaise longue, reclining next to a couple. The woman sits closest to me, her partner on her other side. She is pregnant, a subtle bulge detectable beneath her blanket. She looks tired and a little frightened. This will be her 5th or 6th child. She has had most delivered vaginally, I’m informed, and one by c-section. Her partner is determined that this baby will be delivered vaginally. The doctor squirms a little; he isn’t as sure. This pregnancy was unplanned. An amorous moment caught the couple off-guard.

The woman appears to be in her early 40s. She has dark hair and a care-worn face. Her hair is short, and she resembles my mother. She seems to be thinking, “Can I pull this off? One More time? Am I in so deeply over my head I’ll never find my way out?”

Interpretation: I had this dream, and the one I’ll post later in the week, on the anniversary of my mother’s death. She was in her early 40s when she contracted diabetes, a disease she lived with for 45 years. It ultimately robbed her of her eyesight. In the dream her concern about her pregnancy at age 40 symbolizes the new concern she had at that age in waking life: living with a progressively debilitating illness. The repeated pregnancies reflect my feeling that she had too much to bear. I cannot understand the feelings I have about my mother's illness with my intellect; I'm in "over my head."

A Slice of Head?

The Dream: A young man in a classroom is using a large chef’s knife to slice his head into three layers above his eyebrows. It doesn’t seem to distress him in any way. I am concerned, however, even if he isn’t.

Clark and I are waiting to go into a lecture on dreams in a setting that is part classroom, part theater. An usher seats a lone woman who is in front of us, and we are meant to wait in the lobby for our turn. I, however, decide to sneak in behind them and see how many seats are still available. The room is almost full. I’m excited to see how many people have turned out for a lecture on dreams. At the same time I think Clark and I had better grab a seat because there aren’t too many remaining.

We take our seats, and who should appear but the head slicer. He sits next to me and, again, starts to slice his head into 3 sections. I find this very disturbing, and this time he looks pale, as if about to faint. As he starts the final incision I say, “We must call an ambulance.” The young man doesn’t want us to.

Interpretation: The young man is slicing the part of his head where thought takes place (above the brow) into three sections, reflecting the division of our minds into id, ego and superego (Freud) or conscious, personal unconscious, and collective unconscious (Jung). While the dream character doing the self dissection appears to be unbothered, the dream ego goes from concerned to alarmed. Perhaps my animus (Clark) and I are too eager to go learn from dreams (we are attending a dream lecture). There is no seat (place) for us here, and it is only my pushiness (going out of turn) that gets us in. Once in, the head slicer reappears, and this time he seems to be feeling some ill effects from his work on himself

A Wig for Yoga

The Dream: Several women, including me, are waiting for a yoga teacher. She’s unreliable and on several occasions in the recent past has been a no show. I don’t think she’s coming: but finally she does.

There are two wigs available for class participants to wear. Wigs, it seems, are part of a proper yoga costume. I want to wear one. As I head for the clothesline where one is hanging someone beats me to it. I could have sped up, cut her off, and taken the prize, but I think that would be rude so I don’t. There’s still the other wig, and it’s considered “fair” to remove it from another’s head and claim it. But this one is being worn by a perfectly bald woman who recently underwent chemo—so I feel this would not be the right thing to do. The upshot? No wig for me.

Interpretation: I am waiting for a spiritual advisor (yoga teacher) even though I have reason to believe she is unreliable. Hair, coming out of our heads as it does, can represent our thoughts. In this dream I spend a certain amount of energy running after ideas which are clearly not right for me (the false hair). The dream tells me not to rely on others to teach me the meaning of life, but to look to my own inner voice for spiritual guidance.

Levitation

The Dream: A young man, his body a box. He levitates. Surrounding him, especially his head, are spirals. This image takes the form of a wire frame, like a Calder mobile.

Interpretation: The young man in this dream is someone I met recently who is a fundamentalist. The symbols tell me how I view these beliefs. The man’s body is a box (he’s boxed into a set of beliefs.) He levitates (his feet are definitely not on the ground—implying both that I don’t think he’s sensible and, at the same time, that I see his ability to believe as something on a higher plane).   The spirals are a very ancient symbol for life and the universe, but could also be construed as thoughts going round in circles. I can see through the wire frame; it has no depth.

Detaching the Lambs

The Dream: A large group of woolly lambs, tethered together tail to head. They are comforting, but for some reason I must cut them apart one from the other. I feel uneasy.

Interpretation: I am outgrowing some childish but comforting ideas, perhaps a child’s version of Christianity (Christ is often called The Lamb of God). While I must sever these ideas to grow, doing so makes me feel bad.

Anubis

The Dream: I see an Egyptian figure with the head of an animal and the body of a man. This is how it looked visually, but in the dream I describe it as the head of a man and the body of an animal. A song plays over and over: “Unbreak My Heart.”

Interpretation: An ancient (Egyptian) question: Are we spirit or consciousness (the head) trapped in matter (the body), or matter that acquired spirit? The song refers to the heartbreaking cycle, replayed in each life, of life and death.

Shine a Light on It

Jung and other symbol experts tell us that water represents the unconscious mind, and light is a symbol of  awareness, or consciousness.

The Dream: I am sinking in a bay which surrounds a park. The water level varies from place to place. I sink below the surface, holding a flashlight in my left hand. I am not worried about going down, knowing I will come up again, but I am worried about letting go of the flashlight. Can I hold onto it?

When I come up I try to get to Clark, who is standing in a shallow area near the shore. I struggle a little to keep my head above water. “Put out your hand,” I say, “I can’t see.”

Interpretation: The dream is about illuminating an aspect of my unconscious. I’m shining a light on it. Can I keep it up?