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.

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.

I Sacrifice My Social Security

The Dream: My daughter has been working as a prostitute in order to pay off her school debt. At first my husband Clark and I don’t react to this; we think she’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions. However, I come to realize, and can see in her countenance, that this “work” is a threat to her very soul since it demands that she cut herself off from her true feelings. I want to help her get out of this situation, so I offer her money. I don’t have much, only my social security check, but I decide, after a little internal struggle, that I don’t need it.

Interpretation: In this dream I begin to realize that I’ve been prostituting my inner vision to satisfy outside demands. I’m paying off a debt (what I owe others) for my education--or what might be more accurately called my socialization. In the course of the dream I become willing to sacrifice approval (social security) to free myself from the necessity to do work I don’t love.

Hidden Wealth

This dream seems perfect for Thanksgiving. Where is your hidden wealth?

The Dream: Money is hidden in the back of a picture frame—between the picture and the piece of tan paper the framer puts in to finish the job.

Interpretation: If I can learn the back story (what’s hidden behind the paper backing) something from the past (back) will yield a nugget (money) of insight, and I’ll get the picture.

Exposed: Part 3

The Dream: I go into the subway. I order some tokens and need to go to the left of the counter to pick them up. I pick up a pile containing far more than I paid for and wonder if I should return the extras. As in the last dream segment, I decide not to “do the right thing.”

I see my Aunt Mary, dressed as a gypsy, collecting money for the poor. I give her some change but take back one of my tokens that inadvertently fell into her basket. I ask her for the key to her apartment so I can put on some clothes. She gives it to me, saying Uncle Mike will be there.

Interpretation: My unconscious (the subway) is activated to solve the problem put forth in the earlier segments of this dream: what is my role as a woman in today's complex society?  How do I bring together the role of women modeled by my mother and reinforced by my 50s childhood with the enormous societal change realized by the women of my generation? I “go to the left” or, in dream terms, I don’t try to resolve this rationally. Dreams allow –even insist on – paradox. I don’t have to reject my mother’s path to follow my own.  I accept the “tokens” offered by the “left” (unconscious), with its sly suggestion that I am not doing the “right” thing.

I see my aunt (my mother’s sister: that is, my mother) in a new way. (She gets some change.) At the same time I hang on to the “token” of my new self. She gives me the key (her acceptance) to recovering my sense of worth, symbolized by the clothes I will put on in her apartment. And an animus figure, my uncle, will be waiting for me there, signaling that my psyche will be better balanced between feminine and masculine.

Put on the Stockings

Sometimes the things we dislike about ourselves need to be recognized as gifts, of a sort, as this dream tells me.

The Dream: We are trying to escape the Nazis, but using an odd strategy. We’re running away from them by going back to the place we used to live even as I think, “Won’t they be able to find us here?”

One woman accepts a pair of silk stockings from a Nazi soldier with the idea of reselling them to get money for something useful, like food. At first I think her acceptance of a gift from the Nazi is morally dubious, but later feel that in transforming the gift into something useful she’s done something sensible.

Interpretation: I learn that something good can come if I can accept a gift from my inner Nazi.  My tiresome attention to detail and tendency to perfectionism are not all bad, but can and do enable (feed) my creative side.

What are the Issues?

While dreams often take their cue from the things around us—TV shows, politics, what we’re working on—often the dream’s message can only be unraveled by looking underneath the apparent activity.

The Dream: I ask Heidi, “Are you going to vote for McIrney [sic]?” I have a hard time getting his name right. Heidi doesn’t know who he is, and I explain that he is running against Pombo. She doesn’t know who Pombo is either. I explain that Pombo is anti-environment, and I try to make the case for voting for McIrney; I want to get the overly pro-business Pombo out of office. I am surprised that Heidi knows so little about the candidates; I expected her to be more sophisticated.

Interpretation: Names are important here; the dream emphasizes this several times. First there is the misspelled McIrney (Mc Earn E) and then there is Heidi (Hide E). Am I hiding from my own discomfort at not earning any money (a constant struggle in the arts)? The dream ego doesn’t like the pro-business candidate, and Hide E doesn’t understand the issues. Oh dear.

Your Money or Your Life

Many who are interested in dreams are artists. If you are, I think you’ll find this dream relevant to the age-old artist’s conundrum: make art or make money.

The Dream: I go to an art supply outlet. It is an old-fashioned office in an industrial firm. The room is not at all glamorous, with beige file cabinets, clutter and a utilitarian wooden desk. Behind this desk sits a younger middle-aged woman (about 40). She is thick-set, has dark brown hair and wears horn-rimmed glasses. She is a little chubby, with a round face and in a very dull dark blue dress.

I give her a list of pigments and other art supplies that I would like to purchase. I realize I don’t have the money to pay for my supplies, which have amounted to $200.00. I ask if it is okay if I write her a check, and then ask my mother if the money is in the account: she might have to transfer some money.

I can see the woman is disapproving. She is wondering why I don’t earn my own money. I arrange that I will call her after I get my mother’s approval, and then she will send me the supplies. Since I have been a long-time customer I am annoyed that she didn’t trust me enough to let me take the art supplies home with me.

Interpretation: The short one: I’m not getting any credit! To elaborate: Some part of me is unsure if I have the right to color (the pigments). In this dream color represents an expressive outlet. My color is controlled by the rigid forces of practicality: industry, busy-ness, clutter (old unresolved stuff lying about). I can’t give myself any credit for the choice I’ve made or the work I do. As Oscar Wilde said, “All art is utterly useless.” I am dependent on my internalized “mother” for approval. Another part of me is disgusted with this dependence and thinks I should “earn my own money;” in other words, be my own source of affirmation.