The Synthesis

Occasionally a dream echoes the structure of a myth, revealing where we are on our life journey. 

The Dream: I find my way to a mountain-top home, a castle-like structure overlooking the surrounding countryside, hilly terrain like the semiarid northern California coastal range. I’m in a turret, with windows on 3 sides. At first there are no other structures to be seen. Later I see what at first appears to be a brilliantly white spire topping some sort of temple rising above the hills. Then I see a very large building that obscures the temple; it looks like the scaffolding of a large office building but has a silvery, glowing quality that makes it difficult for me to figure out exactly what I’m seeing. I soon realize that my confusion was created by a cloud behind the scaffolding. It moves off to the left and the bare bones of a building under construction are revealed.

Back to me in the strange room: I’m in a room to the right of the turret. A crude ladder made of wooden slats, again like a framework or scaffolding, leads to the upper floors. I attempt the climb, initially unafraid, but when I get to a broken slat I recall that I’m afraid of heights, and I find I can’t go on. I back down the ladder.

I see a very gruff Russian man. He is stocky, a little paunchy, and has dark hair surrounding his bald pate. He appears to be a workman; he doesn’t speak. Yet it seems he has alerted the woman in charge, who scampers down the ladder. She is also Russian and approaches me accusingly, suspecting me of espionage. For some reason, when she demands to know my name, I give her the Russian version. Her manner at once changes; she’s gotten the idea that I am of royal lineage. She becomes pleasant, even sycophantic, and no longer wishes to bar me from the ascent. However, my own fear of heights prevents it.  I expect the workman to repair the broken slat, thinking that if here were to do so I could perhaps manage the still scary venture—but he makes no move in that direction.

I see that the gruff, bouncer-type man has a notebook. He has written a story about the woman and illustrated it. I am surprised at the sensitive and beautiful quality of his work; even though he’s left many drawings unfinished his talent is apparent. In some of his drawings the women are headless. “You are very talented,” I tell him. It’s a surprise in someone so apparently brutish. He is no longer mute, but very humble: “You are extremely talented,” he says to me. I wonder how he could possibly know that, since I have none of my work with me. We spend some more time, each of us trying to convince the other of his (her) talent.

Interpretation: My dream group helped me with this one. The dream represents a partial victory in the myth that represents my life, but also tells me I have work to do. My first challenge is getting to this difficult spot. I didn’t record the very earliest sequence of the dream, but it was about the steep path up to the strange castle. What do I see from this outlook? Is it a temple, or is it an office building. Do I pray here or do I work here? What I see from my three-windowed turret symbolizes my state of being, a mental space where work and spirit have melded.

My (spiritual) ascent is stopped by a ladder’s broken rung. The thing in need of repair centers on figures from my youth, the scary Russians who made up my family. My first task is to accept myself; I symbolically do this by owning my Russian identity, and this quickly disarms both of the threshold guardians. The woman changes from a hostile force to a benign one, and I realize the complexity of the man, who until now had seemed only brutish. The man symbolically tells me that the wellspring of creativity isn’t particularly genteel; it’s his earthiness and lack of pretension that gives art its life. The women he depicts are headless; his force is not of the intellect.

Ultimately it’s my own fear that stops me, not the physical limitation of the broken rung. The dream tells me that I mustn’t expect someone else to fix it.

The Symbolic Meaning of Easter

Just as we have personal dreams, religious myths embody group dreams or shared symbolic content, what Jung calls the collective unconscious. Looking at Easter from this point of view, I see a marvelous tangle of meaning: the one I’ll focus on here is how we participate psychically in the myth of resurrection. First there is the sacrificial death, symbolizing the death of my individual, potentially antisocial desires for the greater good of the group. As I contemplate the god dying for the good of the group, I participate by sacrificing some of my selfishness for the good of others.  Once I’ve acknowledged the “bad” parts of myself, symbolized by the god going down into hell, I’m ready for resurrection as  purified and perfected (or at least somewhat improved) member of society.

At its most primitive level, this yearly resurrection coincides with the rebirth of nature in the northern hemisphere. Ancient fertility rites lie not too deeply below the many-layered observance. Participating in the fertility of nature gives me food, or sustenance, and, with our own propagation, carries the life force forward. At the spiritual level, the myth celebrates our human attainment of consciousness: we have transcended our animal nature and been reborn into a higher, godlike, level of awareness.

Getting Around the Block

Like the dream of the mouse lady a few posts back, this dream features what Jung calls a shadow. Shadow figures represent parts of ourselves that we dislike and reject. It’s important that we get to know our shadows; otherwise there’s a danger that we will project them onto others—often with devastating results.

The Dream: There is an unsavory character who owns a shop in the city. I find his shop and then leave it by going North, then West, then South. I realize that I have lived without noticing what is on this block. There is much life, crowded storefronts, and I have passed them by without knowing what’s here. As I walk, noticing all the activity I had not previously seen, I also become aware that I can get back to the shop by continuing around the block—that I will come back to where I started. This is a revelation.

Interpretation: There’s a part of myself that I reject (the unsavory character). He’s central to something I don’t want to see or know (the block). Yet the dream tells me that not seeing (accepting) this part of myself has cut me off from “much life.” My journey around the block gives me a healing insight that feels like a revelation.  As in the plot of a classic myth or fairy tale, I come back to where I started, but the experience has changed me for the better.

The Red Circle

Sometimes a dream can give you an insight that eluded your conscious mind.

The Dream: A round, glowing red circle.

Interpretation: This dream circle explained an artwork I had seen in the Tate a couple of days before that had been puzzling me. The piece was a photo of a man’s very hairy back; the hairs swirled into radiating Van Gogh shapes with soap. The center was so soapy it was white. I didn’t know what to make of this as I looked at it, but after the dream I realized that the photo might be a representation of the natural forces of the sun. And, of course, in myth the sun is identified with masculine forces and energy.

Vulnerable

Have you ever wondered why myths are appealing? Perhaps it is because they, like dreams, tell the story of the ever evolving psyche. This dream echoes Humpty Dumpty.

The Dream: I’m trying to put something back together but the pieces don’t fit. The image is of a cheese round, about 2 inches thick and 10 inches in diameter. The cheese on the inside is a creamy white color. Its crust, a plastic like khaki covering about ¼ inch thick, is gone.

Interpretation: As I try to rebuild the self from the newly activated elements released by all this dream work I am having trouble getting the elements unified. Initially the soft center was protected by a phony, neutral covering. This begs the question: What will protect me now?

Struggle with an Angel?

One reason myths have staying power is their ability to encapsulate a universal human experience. This dream shows how these myths can spontaneously appear, and when they do, it means the issue they are highlighting is important.

The Dream: Clark and I are in a romantic mood despite the nearness of the children. Suddenly I am grabbed from behind by a man with wings, and held very tightly—so tightly I can’t breathe. I try to call out, but no sound comes. Final I start screaming, “Clark! Clark!” in hopes he’ll rescue me. I awaken.

Interpretation: As I try to awaken the unconscious and incorporate it into my conscious life I am grabbed from behind by a powerful force. In other words, things I have tried to “put behind me” emerge with great intensity and practically squeeze the life out of me. The dream tells me I need my other half, the part I have repressed into unconsciousness, to solve the problem. This other half is symbolized by husband Clark and our attempt at union when the dream begins, as well as the fact that I call out to him as the dream ends. Ultimately, of course, I need to turn and face the angel / demon.

The Dumb Blonde

This dream has mythological roots echoing back to Venus emerging from the sea.

The Dream: A blonde woman has a partner who’s like an evil magician. I come across the two of them at the shore, in the water near some rocks. Her partner is trying to get her to stay under water for longer and longer periods of time. She doesn’t like this and finally gets out and walks away from him. I wonder if her partner had been trying to get her to kill herself.

I am pregnant.

Interpretation: The dumb blonde, the one who could not speak, refuses to exist solely in the unconscious, here symbolized—as it often is—by the sea. She walks out of the water, and a new potential life is conceived.

Guest Dreamer: The Cement Men of Mars

The following dream was sent to me by my brother. He was very young when he dreamt it, during the era of the competition between the US and the USSR to conquer space (the 1960s).

The Dream: It started with me watching the first manned Mars landing on TV.  But as it progressed, I became one of the astronauts landing there.  (Note:  I had this dream at the height of the race to the moon.) In my dream Mars was perfectly habitable, and we found a nice little circular grove of trees to camp in for the night.  But in the middle of the night we were suddenly attacked by Martian Cement Men who would step out from behind trees and throw spears at us.  We, of course, were armed with submachine guns (I mean, what else would you take to Mars?) and started blasting away.

As our bullets struck them, the impacts looked exactly the way bullets hitting a cement wall look.  That is, there’d be a puff of smoke and dust and a shallow crater from the impact would be created: thus the name Cement Men.  Of course it also meant that it didn’t kill them, so we had a lengthy battle on our hands.

I remember being touched (in the dream) when I saw one cement man leaving the safety of the trees to grab a fallen comrade and drag him back to safety. These guys were big, built a lot like the comic book version of the Incredible Hulk. I’m still waiting for Spirit and Opportunity to find them!

Interpretation: One truism about dreams is that every character in them is us—or a part of us—no matter how alien the dream creatures sometime seem. A character we have a particularly bad reaction to is called our shadow; it shows us some part of ourselves that we need to come to terms with. This is similar to the ogre under the bridge or the wicked witch of fairy tale: a handy screen on which to project all we hate or fear.

You might notice that this dream reads something like a mythic adventure, and there’s a well documented relationship between dream and myth. Joseph Campbell analyzed the myth’s basic plotline as the hero’s journey: each stage parallels an important life passage. In this case, the passage is from childhood to young manhood.

An important part of dream interpretation that hasn’t yet come up in this blog is that the dreamer is the final authority on the meaning of his dream. When I put forth a comment about his—or anyone else’s—dream I am inevitably talking about what the dream would mean to me had I dreamt it. So I’ll discuss my brother’s dream as if it were my dream.

I am young and full of curiosity about the world. The news is full of an exciting global competition, and I’d like to take part in it. My dream takes me to Mars, where I encounter a planet that closely resembles the world I know.

And yet: there’s some interesting symbolism here. The circle, in Jungian terms, represents the integrated self. Jung felt that the circle expressed the totality of our being, containing all our sometimes disparate elements. Perhaps because I’m young and need to grow—both mentally and physically—I cannot bask in this bliss for too long, but must meet the next challenge. It’s symbolized by the confrontation with my shadow in the form of the Cement Men.

The fact that these cement men are attacking me with very primitive weapons (spears) makes me think that I’m doing battle with a primitive part of myself, a part that I feel I must conquer if I want to become a civilized adult. I’m well armed for this confrontation, maybe a little too well-armed (am I too defensive?) pitting my sub-machine gun against their spears. Nevertheless, these creatures, being made of cement, are not easy to kill. That I can be touched by the compassion of one of the Cement Men for his comrade is a very good sign that I’m on the way toward humanizing—therefore integrating—this tough and violent part of myself.

The dreamer always gets the last word, so here’s Bro’s Interpretation: Earlier that night I'd watched an episode of “The Untouchables” in which a machine gun had sprayed a cement wall. I believe this dream was inspired the space race and that evening’s episode of the Untouchables.

The Chicken and the Egg

When someone you know appears in a dream you have to puzzle out whether the dream is about that person and your relationship or that person as an aspect of yourself. In this dream, which I interpret as being about my development as an artist, I see my husband symbolically as “my other half.” In this role, as my Animus, he supports my desire to “steal” some creativity. There’s often a parallel between myths and dreams: in this case it’s Prometheus stealing fire from the gods.

The Dream: I’m walking with my husband Clark in a large garden. I pass by a chicken and a rectangular box of eggs, but then have second thoughts and call it to Clark’s attention. “Look,” I say, “You don’t have to buy chickens. You can have a wild one.” The chicken is very colorful, looking more like a rooster than a hen. It is small and struts behind the box of eggs, apparently guarding them. I suggest to Clark that we take some of the eggs; meanwhile I’m worried about the chicken’s reaction. I wonder how she sits on them to hatch them; they are spread out in a rectangular box and she would have to sit on them sequentially. As we begin to cull the eggs I have a new worry: what if some of the eggs have begun to develop into chicks? How awful would it be to open an egg and see a partially developed chick! We select some eggs. They vary in size. We try to avoid the ones with developing chicks in them.

Interpretation: The incubating creativity is here and available. It’s up to me to be aware of it. It is part of the deeply instinctive. It is guarded by the Eternal Maternal, in herself very beautiful, but a force that needs to be worked around and placated because she represents both the good and the bad of the traditional. A rigid conventionality, represented by the box, could hamper the potential of the eggs, some of which are developing in a conventional manner. We want the ones that have not started to develop: infinite potential.

The Divine Child

Jung discovered that some symbols are what he called archetypal. He felt that these were so basic to human experience that all cultures created myths about them. One such prevalent symbol is the Great Mother; another is the Divine Child. Often dreams refer only to our day-to-day activities, but the occasional dream touches a deeper level, as I think this one does.

The Dream: A friend has recently had a baby. Since she has several other children and is very busy she gives me the baby to care for. Although the baby is a newborn, she can talk and walk. I’m very entranced by this child. I tell her that she’s as intelligent as a 3-year-old, although in fact she seems far more intelligent than that. I don’t feel the parental anxiety my own children engendered, and I find myself becoming quite attached. The dream details are foggy, but I do remember a lot of discussion about giving her a bath. At one point her arms break out in a rash. The child explains why and pulls out a salve which cures her the moment she applies it. There’s a lot of moving around from place to place, sometimes up and down stairs.

Interpretation: This dream is a visitation from the Divine Child, the part of me that holds my untarnished, limitless potential. The Child is self-healing, representing my ability to heal myself. We move together through various levels of consciousness, shown by our movement from place to place and up and down stairs. The bath is symbolic of my baptism into a new life: some sort of transformation is at hand.