A Tricky Operation

Ancient wisdom has said that the sins of the father are visited upon the children. This dream seems to be saying that the sins of the parent are perpetuated and passed down, over and over again.
The Dream: My mother-in-law, M, is experiencing some symptoms. Her mother sits her on top of a kitchen counter and cuts out her heart and lungs. M doesn't seem to experience the sort of pain one would expect from this. M and her mother, accompanied by M's daughter carrying the organs, board an ambulance and head for the hospital. The doctors put back the removed parts and explain to M's mother, who seems sweet and well meaning throughout, that this was the wrong thing to do; nevertheless, she clings to her belief that she did the right thing. Years later M is in an old folks' home where I visit her. She recounts this story, her eyes full of pain.

Although M herself has been a very difficult person and caused her family a lot of pain, I feel a new empathy for her and, while I can't overlook the effects her own bad behavior has had on her children, I now have compassion for what she went through and wonder if it might have been responsible for triggering her own cruelty.

Interpretation: Metaphorically the heart is the place of feeling; we often say that something is heartfelt, or that something broke our hearts. The lungs enable us to cry out. We yell at “the top of our lungs.” In this dream, the sweet mother inflicts serious damage unwittingly, unknowingly, convinced that she is doing the right thing. Worse than what she has done is her refusal to acknowledge that she was wrong. She clings to her beliefs about the correctness of her behavior, even in the face of clear evidence that she made a mistake, and these deeds travel down the generations from parent to child.

M is my avatar in this dream, and I begin to understand my own lapses as grounded in a time when I could not speak (yell out) to defend myself, and so I lost heart. I ignored and suppressed my pain, creating the possibility that I would someday blindly lash out at my own defenseless child. At the same time the dream warns me not to be too convinced of my own rectitude. The bright spot in the dream is my new found compassion, and the hope that it will enable me to forgive the guilty, and, at the same time, protect the defenseless.

The Scream

The Dream: I am lying on a bed. I put my head into a long tube and scream. My father comes into the room and asks me if I scream often. “No, I say, “this is the only time I ever screamed.”

“Heart attack,” he says.

“Well,” I say, “you’d better take me to the hospital.”

All dither around. No one seems to grasp the urgency of the situation. Someone asks if I feel any pain, and I say, “Only some tightness in my chest.”

Interpretation: I’ve got my head up my ass (in a long tube). There’s something emotionally painful (attack in the region of the heart) that I’m refusing to see. I need some help (the hospital) in order to get this off my chest.

Guest Dreamer: Fall and Recovery

An anonymous dreamer has given us today’s dream and has generously provided the beautiful illustration as well. In her interpretation she highlights her experience of presenting this dream to her dream group.

The Dream: My sister and I are walking in an unfamiliar city.  As usual we are chatting; I’m not paying attention to where we are going.  Suddenly there is nothing under my feet; I have stepped over the edge.  I am falling from a very high place into the ocean.  The fall takes a long time.  The distance to the water is so great that I know unless I land perfectly straight into the water like a bullet, I will be killed or crippled when I hit the surface.  My heart is pounding as I fall through the air.  Next, I am treading water and looking around.  I look back at the cliff and the city.  I am far from land.  I see a pleasure boat in the distance but it’s too far away to help me.  I look back at the spot where I fell and realize I am a mile or two from it.  I look for my sister and finally spot her.  She's a tiny spec.  She is looking at the sea but her gaze is not anywhere near me.  Even so, I wave my arms and hope she will see me.  She doesn’t.  I start to swim back.  It is an easy swim and I know I will make it.  I have flippers on my feet and I glide swiftly through the water.

The Dreamer’s Interpretation: I took this to my Dream Group even though I was pretty sure the dream acknowledged a positive change, my survival of a very difficult time. In going over it with the group I realized that the dream not only acknowledged my survival in this particular situation, but told me that I have everything I need to take care of myself and to flourish.

As the members responded to the dream as if it were their own, they pointed out what the words and situation mean to them. Each person, of course, saw the dream a little differently. One suggested I ponder what the word “city” means to me. I hadn’t thought about that before, but when I did I realized that for me it represents an exciting place where endless inspiration and creative activities intermingle and communicate. For a while, having been on edge due to an upheaval with an elderly parent, I had dropped away from “the city.”

 Another member pointed out that in the dream my sister is the part of me that doesn’t always recognize my own capability (She doesn’t see me). And it’s true that at times in waking life my insecurities do cripple me.  Someone else showed me that the dream says I have everything I need (those flippers that magically appear) to face tough times and that I can glide well through life (the sea) and easily get to where I want to go (it’s an easy swim and I know I will make it).

I have found dream work to be tremendously beneficial.  Thank you, Carla, for producing The Daily Dreamer.  There is always something new for me to learn.

Carla: Thank you so much for sharing your dream and art, and for pointing out the joy and value of being a member of a dream group. There's one more image I'd like the dreamer to think about: the pleasure boat in the distance. Another word for boat is craft. In what way does the dreamer's pleasure in her craft (making art) come in to play here? At the moment it's too far away to be helpful, but we know that boats can move, and I bet it's about to come closer.

For more information about dream groups see About Dream Groups.

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.

Baring the Breast

Have you ever had a dream that seems to resolve a previous dream? Jung tells us that this is to be expected, and that it is part of our natural psychic regulation. This is similar to the way natural physical adjustments take place, for example, sweating to cool the body when you get too warm. In my chat with Jane Teresa Anderson (Episode 44 of The Dream Show) she pointed out that the title of the dream The Bodice Ripper could refer to an opening (exposure) of the heart. I had this dream the night after our chat.

The Dream: I am sitting at a table of arty and intellectual architects. After a while I realize I have no clothes on above the waist. One of the men comes and sits next to me, kissing me on the cheek and saying, “I’ve missed you.” I notice the softness of his youthful face, although his hair is thinning and he must be in his 40s. I say, “I’ve missed you, too.” His name is at the edge of my awareness but I don’t quite get it. We’re happy to be together but can’t think of anything to say.  I notice my bare breasts and think I should cover up, but do nothing about it.

Interpretation: The bodice is off; my heart has opened. The rapprochement is not only with the part of me that can deal with the outer world (my animus) but also with my first image of a man, my father. The exchange about missing each other refers to my grief over his death. That I am sitting with a table of architects tells me that something new is being built.