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.

Miracle Child

It is often helpful to look at your individual dreams as part of a series. Sometimes you'll find a shade of meaning that you overlooked when thinking about the dream on its own.

The Dream: I am pregnant. I begin to fret about being in this condition at my age. I am single. I look at the apartment house I'm going to move into, and my new next-door-neighbor harshly judges me for being pregnant while unmarried. I think this is a little silly. As I fret about the pregnancy, some one points out I'll be 67 when the baby is born. My doctor is unconcerned about the health aspects for both mother and child.

Interpretation: In looking at this dream as part of a series, the theme running through the last three is that of a gift. In the first dream I'm given a gift of images. In the second I give a gift (the child) to another who needs it, and interestingly, the child I give away is one that I have adopted. In the 3rd the gift returns to me, in the form of my own not yet realized potential (the pregnancy). This dream implies that I need to go beyond the conscious choice symbolized by the 2nd dream's adoption and give birth to my own (authentic) child (self), who will be born of the unconscious. And if I'm a little anxious about the process, I have the doctor's word that all will turn out well.

Guess I'll Go Eat Worms

To figure out what a dream like this means, I have to look at what is going on in my life that is triggering behavior (or a feeling) that I don't accept.
The Dream: My husband, Clark, has found an insect in the garden that we know is destructive. He shows it to me, and I go to get a plastic bag to put it in. I ask if he wants a thin or a heavy plastic: what is necessary to contain the pest, to keep it confined so it won't spread and multiply?

I come back with a small bag. Clark puts in the insect that he's already wrapped in newspaper, and then the bagged creature goes into yet another waste plastic bag and into the landfill trash. I think it's too bad that we have to put all that recyclable plastic into the landfill bin, but it's important that this bug cannot get free and spread.

My neighbor Irene comes over and starts to talk about the bug. She mentions that we have been removing and eating its larvae. This is true, and I am embarrassed that she was aware of it. I hadn't made the connection between the larvae and the bug, and I feel uncomfortable about her knowing so much. But then I remember how snoopy she is, and that not much could happen without her knowledge. I feel weird about our having eaten the larvae. One part of me thinks, “We deep fried them, and they were crispy and tasty.” Another part thinks, “Disgusting.”

Interpretation: This dream deals with a deep ambivalence. Something is bugging me. I think it's destructive, and at the same time it's nourished me. I want it not only contained and destroyed, but hidden, even though one part of me regrets the cost of so much concealment. (The recyclable plastic, a potential resource, could be put to better use elsewhere.) I feel uncomfortable about the rewarding aspects of something that I don't think is socially acceptable. (I'd rather my neighbor didn't know.) I have to look at what is going on in my life that is triggering this unacceptable behavior or emotion; then I need to figure out what about it has some sort of payoff. Once I become aware of the unconscious conflict I might be able to resolve it.

Picking the Right Complement

Dream image: Doors decorated with abstract patterns in complementary colors. The first is either yellow or orange and purple, but I decide it would look better with blue, even if it weren’t, strictly speaking, correct. A neighbor appears, playing the part of the idealistic man fighting intractable corruption.

Interpretation: Complementary colors are opposite each other on the color wheel, and adding one to the other has a graying effect. The dream hints I’m stuck between opposing forces in a pattern, a stand-in here for a pattern of behavior: two opposite tendencies are canceling each other out. Choosing a color that might not be correct signals my willingness to move in a new direction because if the color isn’t the proper complement it won’t cancel out the other color. But progress is short-lived: the idealistic man fighting intractable corruption brings me back to irreconcilable differences.

The Intruder: the Dead Bolt

This post marks the 300th to this blog. It seems fitting that today's dream deals with some very basic stuff: the archetypal images of mother, life, and death.

The Dream: I am in the parlor of my grandmother’s railroad apartment in Brooklyn. I notice the door that leads to the stairwell is not shut properly. As I notice, someone in the hall shuts the door; I think it’s a helpful neighbor. I go to secure the door by turning the deadbolt lock when the person outside pushes on the door, attempting to get in. I push back and manage to bolt the door. I awaken in terror.

Interpretation: I had this dream shortly after Mother’s Day. The most remarkable thing about it is how frightened I felt when I awakened. My grandfather died when my mother was very young, leaving my foreign-born grandmother to support three children. She avoided remarrying because she had been mistreated by a step-parent and didn't want to risk that possibility for her own children. My mother was born in the apartment. So for me the place symbolizes these two gentle and loving souls, mother and grandmother, the unsung heroes of my life. Both are deceased. My distress is brought on by realizing my mothers have been lost (railroaded) to death (the dead bolt). And, of course, I will be as well.

At first the outside presence seems benign; my first impression is that it is helpful, and there is a helpful aspect to death once the losses of old age become apparent. But still, for me, terrifying.

Living In Hampshire

The Dream: Clark and I own the rural and idyllic house we lived in when we were in England. I want to go back and stay for a long visit.  I wonder if I will be able to get groceries and whatever I need without having a car.  I think perhaps I can get some help from my neighbor, but then I remember she is probably elderly by now. I am also concerned with the fallout from the volcano. Is it affecting the country?

Interpretation: Dreams are almost always triggered by current events, including both those in our individual lives and those in the news. This one combines a conversation I had with my daughter about the ways Jamie Oliver has changed the British school lunch menu and the news—current at the time of this dream—of the powerful Icelandic volcano. The unconscious put these together with fond memories of four years in Hampshire and presented me with an idyllic home there. But the home is not without its dangers: I might not be able to get what I need (groceries) and an explosive force hovers. Looking at waking life, the difficult and demented aunt Clark and I are caring for might explode at any moment, and the ravages time has chiseled into her aged face make me aware of the precariousness of any sort of apparent stability. The neighbor who cannot help reflects the isolation we feel in dealing with this difficult situation.