It's Hard to Change

The Dream: I'm to meet a group of women at  restaurant in a converted house. When I arrive I go into the restroom to change my clothes. In the process I misplace a sock, one of the thick wool socks I wear at night to keep my feet warm. I look everywhere, unable to find it. I am on my hands and knees going through what I think is a Lost and Found Box under the sink; it seems to have odd pieces: one glove, one sock, etc. A member of the establishment comes in and discovers me. I feel uncomfortable attempting to explain what I'm doing,and she says it's not Lost and Found, but a gift for the Father.

I give up on finding my sock. I haven't been able to change my clothes, and I think I might have more success if I go somewhere else. I leave the bathroom and find a small bedroom down the hall, go in, shut the door, and try to change. In short order someone appears, a young woman with dark short curly hair, slightly over-weight, round faced. It's her room. She's brought some friends, and I am clearly an intruder. I explain about needing to meet people at the restaurant and apologize for trespassing. I notice the time. It's 1:30 and I was supposed to meet my friends at 11:00. I realize with surprise how late it's gotten and rush off, hoping my friends will still be there.

Interpretation: This dream is about change, and the difficulty I'm having making one. The converted house points to a changed (converted) self, but I have cold feet: I can't find the thing (the warm sock) that will protect me. What am I having so much trouble changing? What have I lost that I can't find, and what does it have to do with Father-- my father? Our Father Who Art in Heaven? Is what we lose, over the course of our lives, a gift for the Father? Or could it be something I've lost and need to find again? Whatever it is, it's gotten under my skin (anagram for sink). I'm out of place; I can't find the right venue for my transformation, and it's later than I think.

No Light at the End of the Tunnel

The Dream: Dettie and I are at the underground entrance to a NYC subway. She has a token and goes through the turnstile and down the escalator to the platform. I realize I have no money. I set down my large purse, at the same time noticing a lost-and-found-box containing cash and other items that people have left on the train, open to all with no oversight. I think, after a little ethical quavering, that it's probably okay if I “borrow” some of the money to buy a token. I feel a little guilty, but climb up to the box—it's a bit of a stretch—and help myself to a small amount of cash. In some part of my mind I am surprised that the money hasn't all disappeared.

I take the money to the ticket booths; the one to the left is closed, and the agent in the middle booth ignores me. I'm getting anxious about finding Dettie with all this delay. Then I notice an available agent to the right: I had 't been aware of him. He is a very affable black man and while I don't have enough money for a return, he sells me a one-way token.

As I approach the turnstile I realize my bag is missing. I feel very uneasy about this, thinking about my credit cards and how I should have made a list of them. I try to remember which membership cards were in my purse. This will be a mess to sort out; I hope Clark can help me.

I descend the escalator and my surroundings become darker and darker. When I reach the platform I look for Dettie, but she's nowhere to be seen. I had been counting on her to loan me money for the return trip. The platform is deserted, very dark, and no trains appear to be running. After a while I decide to try a different level, thinking I must be on the wrong track. I turn to go, and things become even darker until it's pitch black. I become frightened and decide to go back up.

I climb a long flight of stairs. At the top is a closed door with a window. The door is locked. I bang and bang on it, yelling “Help!” until I'm afraid my voice will go. A man appears—I see his face silhouetted against the door's window. He has a mustache and looks creepy, like something out of a surrealist's work. I think that if he opens the door it will be to rape me, not to help. I awaken in terror.

Interpretation: Jung warns us that encountering the unconscious is a fearsome project, and this dream verifies it. My friend's name is the key to this dream: “Dettie” evokes both death and debt. As I begin my descent into the underworld of the unconscious I grapple with feeling inadequate: I have no money (worth), but I might be able to retrieve some if I'm willing to take a chance and reach higher. It's interesting that I have an ethical difficulty in giving myself what I need: I don't feel entitled to take it. But even when I do my problems are not over. I have enough money to embark on my journey, but not enough to return. I lose my purse with its membership and credit cards (I'm totally alone; I'll get no credit in the future). I call on my animus to save the situation, but the male figure who appears is another threat, not a savior. I go lower and lower, facing my darkest fears: my vulnerability, my worthlessness and my mortality. My vision is so narrow (tunnel like) that I can't see a way out.