The Paw of Condolence

This dream springs from the same  space in the unconscious that creates religion. Do our loved ones go to “another place” when they die? This dream says yes. Whether or not that's right in any objective sense is unknown and unknowable; nevertheless, it is consoling.
The Dream: I am a young teenager, staying at the seaside with my family. I look out from the screened porch, on the second story of the old-fashioned beach house. I see my younger brother Greg out in the ocean, clinging to a railing. I call to him, “Stay there! I'm coming!” I quickly change into a swimsuit and run downstairs and into the sea.

By the time I reach the railing he's gone. I search frantically, unable to find him, then head back to the beach house for some help. I go upstairs and find my sister in law, who is about my age. As we start to head down the stairs, two pet lions are ascending, obscured by a cat flap. I hear the first one before I see him. He says, “He's gone to another place.” I'm frightened when I hear this, thinking it confirms my fear that my brother is dead. I'm also surprised that the lion has spoken. The lion emerges through the cat door and repeats, “He's gone to another place.” He looks at me empathetically, as if he is sorry for my loss. He holds out a paw, gently, claws retracted, to shake hands.

I look out at the sea, its waves forming a beautiful pattern, white caps going on and on in v-shape formations. It's beautiful but hazardous. I don't think Greg could have survived its power.

My sister in law and I go to the deep beach, filled with tourists sunbathing and swimming. We search and search, to no avail. How will I tell Mother? I wonder, feeling her grief as I think about it. How will I tell my other brother? The words I choose echo the ones he used to tell me about Greg's death when it happened several years ago: “The worst thing you can imagine has happened.”

Interpretation: I had this dream near the anniversary of the deaths of both my brother and my mother. Two feelings are intertwined, grief with the hope inherent in the lion's godlike message. In one of C.S. Lewis' famous books, the lion represented Christ as the symbolic sacrifice that defeats death.  For me, the lion symbolizes the inevitable sad way of things in the natural world. He tells me that Greg has gone to another place. By stepping outside his own natural role as a mute and savage beast, the empathetic lion implies that there's something we don't know. As I experience the fearsome beauty of the sea, I know that this mysterious life force is incomprehensible. Yet there is solace in realizing the possibility of a dimension beyond those I know: this other place the lion speaks of.

The Bear on a Fixed Track

You can learn a lot about your dream by taking the time to look at the words, especially plays on words or double meanings. The following dream is a good example.
The Dream: I have a stuffed bear that navigates the world on a track. I'm with it in the back garden, then watch as it goes through the back door of my house, on its track, and out through the front. It's not capable of locking the doors so I do that. I watch the bear roll down the street and wonder what the neighbors think of it.

I'm planning to rendezvous with my bear at a museum I used to enjoy. To get there I have to scale down what looks like an artifact of the ancient past: a steep, carved palisade. Part of its side begins to detach as I descend. Two things worry me. I don't want to deface this ancient carving, and yet I'm afraid that if I try to fix it, to make it right, I'll lose my footing and fall into the pit.

When I get to the museum it is rundown and in disrepair. Not much is left that is interesting. I'm disappointed; this place is not what it was. There's one bright spot: I recognize a stained glass window that I still like.

Interpretation: To start, let's take a look at the word “bear.” Am I as grumpy as a bear? Is there something I can't bear? Am I feeling discouraged, in the dumps (bearish)? Am I closed-minded, fixed and unswerving in my fixed track? One thing seems obvious, the state of mind this dream is dealing with is rooted in the past. You'll notice the references to the back garden, the back door, the palisade that's an artifact of the past, and the museum, a place that houses old things. And since my bear is stuffed, I'm guessing that what's got me down and grouchy is some stuff from way back.

The dream gives me an opportunity to work through some unresolved past issues. The meeting with my bear takes me to a place where I can look at my old stuff (in the museum) and realize it's not interesting anymore. My fears are unnecessary: I don't lose my footing or fall into the pit along the way. If the carved sides along my descent are disintegrating, I accept that I can't fix them. And there is even a bright spot: I find something to love and cherish, a stained glass window. It lets in a transformed and colorful light.

Making Room for All

Dreams are grounded in your day-to-day life. If you take a look at what you've been up to recently, you'll get some good clues about the meaning of your dream.
The Dream: I'm in a large house, and many young boys are sleeping, dormitory style, in my bedroom. The other bedrooms are full, and a couple has just arrived who need a place. I revisit the sleeping arrangements, and as I do, my bedroom turns into a vast field, with the boys' beds, now chaises longues, lined up against an embankment.  I see I have all the room I need after all, and I suggest that we move the boys' beds back in and put the couple in an area to my right. I a choose a spot near the door for myself in case I want to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It  seems that this new arrangement makes room for all, with some privacy, and it's comfortable.

Interpretation: I had a lot of activities going on when I had this dream. They were things I was happy about and wanted to do, but how to make room for all? The dream reflects in a simple and graphic way my attempt to fit together many interests, and shows me a solution: I need to do some rearranging. There are a couple of new things (the pair that just arrived) that I need to make room for. I also need to be sure I leave myself a path for release, or self-expression (the bathroom).

The boys (new undertakings that require some care because they aren't fully developed) and the color I unconsciously chose for the drawing (green) hint at the growth my new interests promise.

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.

Regret

The Dream: I am in someone's house; it's either a rental or a home exchange. We are thinking about staying there for a while. There is a small washer and dryer in the garage. I point it out to Clark; it reminds me of the set my mother got me when I lived in an apartment. I start thinking about how good she was to me, and feel that I didn't do enough for her as she aged and became infirm. I am filled with regret, and my eyes fill with tears.

I hear another washer/dryer going, and I realize there's a much larger set in the kitchen. We go there, and I am struck by how wide the counters are. They are marble, in golden ocher tones. The lady showing us the house seems to empathize with my sadness.

Interpretation: At first I thought this was a straightforward dream about my feeling bad that I was not a good daughter, that I hadn't given back enough to my mother who was so good and so giving.

And I'm sure there's some truth to that. But there is another truth as well. I had the dream shortly after I had seen a manipulative mother in action. Of course the dream might be pointing out the contrast between my mother and this other mother—but at the same time it caused me to notice some parallels; for example, both mothers had a core of helplessness that required others to step up and take care of them. My resistance to helping my mother might have come from my fear that her need could never be satisfied, but could only suck me into an abyss from which I could not escape. I'm sure my mother had no conscious wish to limit me—quite the contrary—but there was a subtext that I found suffocating. That doesn't excuse me for not getting over it, but it does explain the resigned tone of many of us, when, even as adults, we say, “Yes, mother . . . . “

I Don't Like What I See Inside

The Dream: Melissa, the real estate agent who sold us our house, has a new home of her own with bay views in a very expensive part of San Francisco. It takes up most of a city block and looks like a hotel or an apartment building. Modernist in style, there are large windows here and there and some balconies, but overall it's dull and industrial looking with an unappealing blocky shape.

She and her husband were able to get this building site because they had influence with local politicians, and we discuss the sad fact that all the politicians are in somebody's pocket. In their own case, however, they are pleased to have so much influence and happy to let me know.

When Melissa sees me outside gaping at this enormous house she invites me in. The inside is as baroque as the outside is simple: complicated artifacts abound. They look very expensive but, for my taste, there are far too many. The first floor she takes me through is on the second story. It features a divan covered in a leopard print and elaborate ornaments, such as a large gold sun. I come to understand that this large, overstuffed room is dedicated to “treatment.” Her husband is some sort of a healer.

I'm disappointed in the interior of the house; it's disorganized and over-furnished. We go to other floors and they seem just as confusing, not what I would have wanted. At one point we go through a messy laundry room. I am surprised that so much of the housed is dedicated to work (the man's profession) and wonder if he has set things up this way as a tax write-off.

Interpretation: I've dedicated too much of my self (my house) to work. It has cost me. (It's expensive.) The things I've come up with (the furnishings) are overly elaborate and overstuffed. When I try for simplicity, on the other hand, I create sterility (the industrial quality of the house). The dream is dealing with something I've blocked (the city block; the blocky shape of the building). There is a disconnect of styles, and no overarching vision. All seems mired in the practical, and nothing is on any sort of elevated level: politicians are bought off. Yet—some sort of healing is taking place here nevertheless, and it is grounded in work (the man's profession: he is a healer) even if I'm afraid that it's too difficult (that is, over-taxing).  The dream is telling me to let the healing take place. Unlikely as it seems, the sun ornament will illuminate something for me when I'm ready to see it, and the leopard divan will allow me to rest in the instinctual.

Guest Dreamer: Kitties Litter

Guest Dream: I impulsively brought home two cats. One gray, one black. I put them in the house and went out to get all the necessary items. Upon my return the house reeked and was trashed by the two not so sweet kitties. Went to return the kitties, but could not remember where I got them. Then the guilt set in.

Carla's thoughts: When cats come up in my dream group, folks tend to see them as associated with the feminine. Of course it all depends on how you see cats, because dream symbols are so personal. But if cats do represent femininity or the female--and if it were my dream--my inner female is in the dumps. The colors of the cats, black and gray, signal mourning, loss or depression. When I try to get away from my pain by looking outward to find what I need to fix the situation (I go out to get the necessary items) I discover I can't get away from the problem; it's waiting for me when I return, and it's made a real mess of things.

The cats have damaged my home, which represents myself, my sense of who I am. I want to get rid of this problem by returning the kitties, but that isn't easy. Where did they come from? In other words, how was I saddled with this particular understanding of womanhood that is causing me so much angst?And for that matter, exactly what is it? My dream is telling me to take a look at how I see my role as a woman, and to question if the ideas I have about it are making a mess of my life. I can see from the dream that I'd like to get rid of the concept I currently have, but some sort of guilt won't let me. Perhaps I associate this idea of the feminine role (the one that stinks!) with my mother, and I feel it would be disloyal to reject it. Since there are two cats in the dream, perhaps there were two female role models who passed on conflicting ideas that I'm having a difficult time resolving.

Mother is Tired

The Dream: I'm in a house like the one I grew up in. My mother is there, as are a lot of family members. There's lots of chaos and activity. Mother and I are happy to be with everyone, but also tired from the strain of entertaining. Trying to keep the house in order with so many people carelessly putting their stuff everywhere has worn us out. When everyone leaves mother and I chat about not wanting to be the mother anymore. We're tired. There's too much to clean up after the party.

Interpretation: The dream was probably triggered by my anxiety over a large home improvement project and my desperate attempt to keep the house and garden in order during the process. I'm not happy with being “mother.” The dream points out that we, my introjected mother and I, see our role mostly in terms of the onerous responsibility to clean up after others. “Mother” generally refers to the entire feminine role of nurturing as well as house keeping, but our fatigue is specifically caused by the chore aspect of the role. The party is fun; the people are loved and respected; it's the dull cleaning up and trying to keep the space under control that's the problem. The dream is telling me to pay more attention to the people and the party and less to keeping order.

Our Lady of the Broom

The Dream: I'm in a house with two kitchens, both in need of cleaning. I'm feeling overwhelmed and don't know where to start. It finally occurs to me that I could hire some cleaners to help, that I don't have to put this right by myself. I talk to Clark about it, feeling I must persuade him, although I don't think he put up any resistance.

Interpretation: This is a dream grounded in the day-to-day. I had a lot of major home improvement projects going on and was concerned about doing them well and keeping to a budget. I have to persuade my practical side (Clark, representing my animus) that getting some help is a good idea, but the dream points out that even that part of me thinks it's a good idea. As von Franz once said, “I am my own difficulty.”

The two kitchens hint at something more, a conflict between different areas of life that need to be “fed.” As soon as I can get some things cleaned up I will regain some serenity. On the other hand, all this activity is stimulating and the double kitchens also point out that there are some major transformations taking place.

Guest Dreamer: Caged and Constricted

Guest Dreamer: Weird dream last night with a very strange man in it. He was taciturn, tall, of sallow complexion and said very little. I had apparently met him a couple of times but not got to know anything about him. Now he was coming to my house. He said, "I have a car but I don't like to take it anywhere". However, it appeared he was prepared to drive this to my house.

Then it seemed I was in his car and so was my daughter Diana, and she was grown up, not a little child as she so often is in dreams. We were driving to his house. I heard her saying, "Mum, there is a poster flapping about on the front of the car, about something that happened in 1931!" Then I opened my eyes, which I did not know were shut, and looked out along the bonnet, which was green and of a long, rectangular shape. I realized this was a vintage car, so I told Diana that the poster was meant to convey that the car was authentic. The bonnet was made of loose plates of metal that were not firmly attached, and were rattling and flapping about.

At the house it got even weirder. This house was built to his own design and we were walking down a narrow corridor which had cages built into the wall, floor to ceiling and stretching out either side. The cages were full of little animals, mice, hamsters, even some small cats, and there was mechanical apparatus - like toys and railways, connecting the cages and the animals were going on rides round and round. They were all silent, but had bright eyes and looked healthy. They were all dressed in exquisite small garments in bright colors - they even had hats and bonnets - all neat, clean and well washed. Since there were so many, I thought he must spend a great part of every day washing, ironing and dressing these creatures in clean clothes. I got the impression he was looking for a woman to do this for him, and then Diana told me, "He says he is into submissive sex, he wants a woman who will give up her free will and do whatever he says." I found this oddly fascinating - that was the end of the dream!

Carla's thoughts: This dream has some similar elements to a dream that Firequeen posted on this blog some time ago: Previous Dream  If it were my dream, I would first look at the similarities and differences between the two dreams. In the first dream I find the man very attractive; in this dream he's sallow and uncommunicative. In the first dream he has presented me with an exciting red car that he offers to teach me to drive, and in this one he doesn't even like to drive his own. If, as in the last dream, he represents the part of me that works and engages with the larger world (my animus), I'm fed up with that world at the moment! However, in this dream I think he represents something else.

My (inner) child and I leave the place where I live (my customary way of looking at things) and join this rather unattractive fellow en route to his house. The dream mentions the year 1931, so I need to puzzle out what that particular number means to me. Did something significant for my life happen that year? If not, I need to look at the number in a different way—for example, was my 1st, 9th, 3rd, or 19th year important in some way that influences me now? (The dreamer will have to mine her own associations to figure out what the number means to her.) Excavating its significance may be difficult for me, because it is something I have shut my eyes to without even realizing it. But they are open now.

The long rectangular shape of the bonnet makes me think of a coffin, but the fact that it is green, the color of new life, implies that the part of me that has died will be replaced with something new and vital. Vintage evokes something that has improved with age (my understanding, perhaps?), and once I become aware of this in the dream I know that my dream (the car, the vehicle) will take me to an authentic insight. The hard things I've had on my plate (the metal plates) are not firmly attached to my journey, and after they rattle and flap around for a while I expect they will shake loose.

Nevertheless, I still have this house—the one I don't inhabit—to contend with. My journey has lead me here, so what will I discover? The house was designed by someone else. The corridor is narrow, implying that the vision of my life as seen in this house not of my making is constricted. My animals, that is, my instincts and life force, have been caged. This confinement of the vital part of me goes back to childhood, to the time of toys and little trains. And trained I was: to be neat and tidy and clean. How much time have I spent since then trying to make my animal presentable (acceptable)? The rules of society are attached to the “father” archetype, and my inner child (my daughter) knows this. She points out that “the man” is looking for submission: Be a good little girl and don't make a mess! At this point in my life I am fascinated to discover the unconscious forces that have shaped my life and behavior.

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.

Guest Dreamer: A Visit to the Old House

The Dream: I had a dream last night and this is the second time I have had it! I went back to the house where I had lived during my marriage; my ex was still living there. He had completely redone the upstairs, Ultra modern expensive new bathrooms. The whole upstairs had been reconfigured along with a dressing room and walk in  California closet system, very contemporary and very hip. The whole time I am thinking/saying why couldn't he have been willing to make these kinds of improvements earlier?

More info: The dreamer told me that the dream was triggered by the house going on the market. She also said that when she viewed the listing she was “appalled at the pictures and the lack of staging." And she added, "I am thinking of getting braces which probably fed into this!”

Carla's thoughts: The dreamer's observation that a change she is mulling over--getting braces--might have played a part in the dream is insightful, since the dream is about making changes that are improvements. If this were my dream, I would see it as my increasing awareness of the possibilities in the new life ahead after the end of my marriage. The activity of the dream takes place in what once was my house (myself), but now is changed. The changes are upstairs (in my head). The part of the house that has been changed is relevant to the dream's meaning. A bathroom is a very private place, so it connotes intimacy. The water that is found there symbolizes emotion, and the toilet its release. A dressing room is where we clothe ourselves in our persona, the part of us that we show the world. If my husband could have been more giving and “with it,” as he is in the role of designer and expediter of the very hip upstairs renovations in my dream, maybe things would have turned out differently for us. In the dream I regret that he couldn't supply these things—intimacy, emotional support, support for my persona—while we were married.

Having faced my regret that the relationship didn't work out, I can begin to enjoy the freedom its loss has given me. Now I can take charge of my life and change the things I feel should be changed. As the creator of the dream, I am actually the one who changed the upstairs and created this very appealing new space. The dream tells me that I can do it, and that the changes are contemporary improvements, in other words, they are happening right now.

Guest Dreamer: Uninvited Guest

Today's guest dreamer, Myamystic, is looking for the key that will unlock her dream. It's found by looking beyond the waking life people who populate her dream to figure out which part of her the characters represent.
The Dream: My dream kicks off with me visiting my boyfriend in Mumbai. I enter the house with a key, I don’t know how I got it. The house is in total darkness and empty. I then realise that I am in his parent’s house and am about to leave when the parents return . . . . The mother gets all worked and questions me.

I apologise and leave with my bags.

Carla's thoughts: It's certainly possible that a dream like this is about Myamystic's feelings about her boyfriend's parents, or about how she feels society judges her relationship. She will know if that is the case. It's also possible that the dream is about her own feelings, and in this analysis I'll explore the dream from that point of view. As usual, I'll talk about Myamystic's dream as if it were my own.

In this dream I'm working through my feelings about intimacy. How do I feel about this relationship? How do I think it will go? The key represents a new insight. The "uninvited guest" of my dream title refers to these unconscious thoughts intruding into consciousness. I've been in the dark about my own feelings when it comes to closeness and trust: I am exploring unknown territory here, and that's why the dream is set in someone else's house.

I am in his parent’s house. All the people in a dream have been created by the dreamer and have more to do with her than with the waking life people they represent. So I will look at what I have in common with the dream mother. Like her, am I worked up, suspicious? Do I feel that someone has invaded my space just as the dream ego has invaded this woman's house? Perhaps I'd like an explanation for things about my boyfriend that I don't understand, or about feelings I have that I've pushed away.

That I apologize tells me I might be wrong here. There's something I haven't seen (I've been in the dark). The luggage I take away represents my emotional baggage, things from the past that I'm still lugging around. I think my dream wants me to look at these things in a new way in hopes that it will be the key to my avoiding an empty house (loneliness).

Guest Dreamer: Coming Up

In Elizabeth's dream a lot has come up; let's take a look at it.

The Dream: I was in a large house (not my own, but I felt comfortable there), on a lake or sea (I'm not sure which-but it was large, calm, but vast). I was with several couples, whom I knew in the dream and felt at ease with but can't put names on most after awakening. I was there with a young, prepubescent boy, and in the dream I felt obligation to have an intimate/sexual relationship of sorts with this boy. I felt it was not right, and I remember thinking it would have to wait until he had matured, if ever. This young boy brought me a condom, the condom was different than one I'd ever seen, it was large and reusable, similar in ways to a female condom. I felt absolute in my decision to not be with him when he asked how it worked, even though I myself was unsure. I took the condom and walked out onto the deck, and hid it under a computer desk there. The group was outside quickly after, and a few of them were going out on the water to go fishing. The next thing I remember in the dream is a woman "swimming" back towards the dock (this woman I believed to be a very good friend's mother, someone I've known for 16 years-extremely wealthy family, I feel close to them, but distant in some ways as I've gotten older). Except, she wasn't exactly swimming, she was kind of shooting through the water at warp speed and popped up at the deck I was standing on. Following behind her were thousands or more fish, dead fish, floating on the top of the water and drawn to the deck almost as if by a magnet attached to this woman. I asked how they had fished, and somehow (I don't remember who told me or if I just knew) understood that they had used a method of fishing that was controversial, possibly illegal. It was a weapon that exploded under water but sent out shrapnel to catch all the fish in a several mile radius.

The next thing I remember in the dream was a barge of junk that had been uprooted from the deep sea in the fishing process. At the top of the clump of objects floating in the water were several old, classic cars. As the barge of junk approached the deck, everything was becoming coated in this whiteness. Almost like spray foam that insulates windows, but it was covering everything. As I noticed this whiteness covering the barge of things, I was walking across it. It had formed a sort of large boat. As I was walking across it, I met my father (my waking life father), and we were looking at the old cars, walking from each one to another. I remember thinking I'd like to preserve one for him, possibly with paper-mache. As I walked back onto the deck, I approached a man from the group holding a paper. I asked what it was, and he told me it was a map that he'd commissioned to be made, but it was a secret. He showed me the map, and explained that there were 3 hidden rooms under the sea, and he'd had enough information to work with a mapmaker to find the coordinates. The map had to be a secret, because he would have been in trouble with everyone else if they'd known he'd done this. Suddenly, the man was no longer there and I was holding the map. As I noticed all the other people around, I quickly went to hide the map under the same computer desk on the deck as before, except it was also now covered in the white foam like the barge of sea junk. I hid the map next to the condom I'd earlier hid there. And that is when I remember awaking in my bed, and I grabbed the journal feeling an urgent need to write it down, that there was significance to it. When I re-read what I'd written, I only remembered half, and I barely remember writing it. It felt as though I was in a half-waking space...

Carla's thoughts: As usual with guest dreams, I will think about Elizabeth's dream as if it were my own and hope that it will inspire her to look at the images carefully to ferret out their meaning for her. Only the dreamer can figure out what her dream means, and that's because the images in a dream can mean completely different things to different people. I'm afraid there's no getting around the hard work of figuring out your own dreams.

In my version of Elizabeth's dream, the house represents my Self, the totality of who I am. While I am comfortable in this Self, I don't feel it belongs to me. In other words, I have yet to get in touch with my authentic core. This dream is placing me on course to make that discovery.

The sea is a birth metaphor: my rebirth will take place here. However, as with most of the images in this dream, the sea has contradictory meanings. Yes, it is the place of my rebirth, but it is also the place that obscures the feelings and experiences that make that rebirth a difficult one.

The young boy represents a part of myself that I'm deeply ambivalent about. I feel obligated to integrate, or unite with (have sex with) this aspect of myself, but at the same time this assimilation is distasteful to me (I don't feel it's the right thing to do), and I'm not ready for it (he's not mature.) A condom is something that prevents the union of sperm and egg, and here it symbolizes the barrier to finding out what my union with this young part of myself would bring to fruition. I temporarily avoid the problem by going outside (At least I'm in the process of airing the issue) and placing the impediment (the condom) in my subconscious (under the computer, or thinking function).

The other people in this dream represent various aspects of myself. At times they are the parts that hold the views of a disapproving society, but some are ready to fish around for what's going on in my depths. A pivotal role is played by the woman who swims back to the dock. With her the ambivalence surfaces again: she is someone I am both close to and distant from. This tells me that the information she symbolizes is getting close to consciousness even though I might want to keep it at a distance. Her wealth symbolizes the immensity of my potential.

This process is moving too quickly for my comfort. (She shoots through the water.) She comes from below the surface, and what she brings up is scary and distasteful. Water represents the flow of emotion, and dead fish, according to Tony Crisp, can symbolize the “ non-expression of basic urges.” The magnetic quality of this woman emphasizes the duality of attraction and repulsion, the same ambivalence that we saw earlier with my feelings about my potential sexual union with the young boy. Again I see that something isn't right: the fish (the basic instincts) have been caught in a way that is not only controversial but possibly illegal.

What was murky is bubbling up into enlightenment (the foam with its white color). The underwater explosion that results in foamy whiteness is also evocative of a male orgasm. Cars represent our “drives.” The classic cars take me back to the past, perhaps to a time of my life when one of those drives, the one that results in a male orgasm, would have seemed to me an overwhelming thing that covers (obscures?) everything. I meet my father (the holder of the society's values) and we walk around looking at the cars (drives). Why do I want to give him a paper mache car? Am I trying to make sex drives less substantial, transforming them from the steel of a classic car to the kind of paper children use in craft projects? This hints that the child part of myself does not want to accept adult sexuality. Or perhaps it doesn't want to accept its own (the child's) awareness of that sexuality.

Then I meet the man with the secret map. He is the part of me that is sorting out these old secrets of my Psyche. There are 3 hidden rooms under the sea (in my unconscious). Again we have the unacceptable, the thing I think I'm not supposed to acknowledge. (The mapmaker would be in trouble if it were known he was giving me the route to this secret world.) The map, now covered in the white foam, is stored next to the condom. The various things that I've deemed unacceptable have been dredged up from my depths and are now in one place. I can take them out and look at them when I am ready to: I'm the one who's put them here. These things, hidden right under the computer desk (consciousness) are now very close to the surface. At some point I'll be comfortable taking them out into the fresh air of the deck.

House for Sale

The Dream: We go through a house that's for sale finding rooms with striking, very bold wall papers: large scale, abstract, very colorful florals. The papers overwhelm the rooms; but there's something so beautiful about them that I think I would try to work with them if I bought the place.

Interpretation: The house for sale implies a change. I am trying to deal with something overwhelming that's both beautiful and problematical. If I buy the place (accept the challenge) it will mean I can't settle for the easy, quiet, comfortable route.

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.

Guest Dreamer: Sticky Ball Returns

Each of us has our own set of personal symbols, and the work of understanding your dreams lies in  carefully excavating them.

The Dream: I am walking up narrow wooden steps in a house. Low ceilings, pitch black except for small amount of light illuminating from either a flashlight I have in my hand or perhaps someone walking behind me with some light. It feels like one of those old homes you might find back east - narrow, dark stairs, tiny rooms. Then I'm in a bed. My right hand is in front of me and a rubber-like sphere is attached to my hand like it's sticky and stuck on me. It is still dark except for some reflected light on the ball (coming from a waning moon outside I think) so it looks navy bluish and the size of a baseball. I keep trying to disengage the ball from my hand by pushing it away but the harder I push the faster it comes back and sticks to my hand (as if attached by an invisible string). I am getting annoyed and frustrated.

Carla's thoughts: I don't know Maria, or anything about her life: I hope she will work through her dream, looking at its symbols in terms of what's going on in waking life. To get her started, and to suggest a way of going about the process, I'll write about her dream as if it were my own. Dreams have many possible meanings, so whatever someone else says about your dream is only accurate if it rings true for you.

For me, the narrow wooden steps stand for something in my life that is unbending, perhaps lacking feeling (wooden); something that constricts or limits me (narrow); and something that will take some effort to surmount (like a flight of steps). The low ceiling, the darkness, and the tiny rooms reinforce the idea that something is oppressing me. A home, being the place where I live, stands for me, and the characteristics of my dream home tell me that I'm not in a good place at the moment. The light is an encouraging symbol, however, telling me that I am capable of shining some light on what's bothering me and that the answer might come to me quickly, intuitively, in a flash.That the light might be held by someone else, walking behind me,  hints that there may be a helpful person I've overlooked.

The bed, being a place where intimacy occurs, symbolizes something that I'm very close to, for example, a relationship or my work. I'm in a sticky situation that's making me blue (sad), like the sticky ball in my hand. The moon is waning; romance (or the excitement of the job) has diminished, but isn't completely gone. My situation has strings attached; these might be the source of my frustration. My dream is telling me to shine some light (rationally evaluate) what's going on and then figure out what to do about the sticky situation.

Mom Wants Her House Back

The Dream: My mother-in-law is well. She is in a nursing home, but has recovered from both her physical and mental incapacity. She seems young, in her 50s instead of her 80s, and as coherent as ever. She ask about her house, wanting to know if it is ready for her return. I have a sinking feeling, remembering that we fixed it up beautifully then sold it. I say to her, “I'll leave it to the others to answer that.”

Interpretation: The wonderful house (integrated sense of self) that I experienced in the last dream is precarious. My internal critical “mother” is trying to reassert herself and take back what I have achieved. I feel guilty for having displaced her. Not yet strong enough to speak to her directly. I slough the task off on “the others.”

By the Book

The Dream: Clark and I are in New York City. I have a special booklet, sparkling and glowing, that I want to give to a young person who I feel needs the information. We look for her house on 3 different streets but can't find it. I know the general location, but none of the houses look exactly right. Finally I suggest that we wait for her to come outside. The townhouses are like those on the upper West Side with steps going up to their entryways, very well maintained and updated.

Interpretation: The special booklet contains some sort of enlightenment (it sparkles and glows). It isn't very thick, so it is probably recently acquired psychic knowledge, as opposed to revelations that have accumulated over a long period of time. The young person I want to give this to is the newly emerging self that appeared in the previous dream. I am having trouble locating her, and none of the houses (the integrated selves; in other words, this new self plus my gnarly old self) seem right. The dream is telling me that I'm not quite ready for the psychic change taking place. I come up with a reasonable solution: let's wait for her to come to us. The townhouses, being well maintained and updated, symbolize my new (spiritual) home (self).

Old Vine

The Dream: I am selling my house and property. On the property is a vineyard with old growth vines, thick and gnarly, branches intricately interwoven. I tell potential buyers the vines need maintenance.

Interpretation: I am ready for a big change. I leave behind my house (my old self) and my property (the patterns of thinking and being that I've accumulated). Recognizing the complexity and interdependence of a lifetime of growth, even if some of it is convoluted (thick and gnarly), I explain to the emerging part of myself coming to the fore that some of the earlier psychic systems will need to be maintained.