Moving Past Judgment

The Dream: I'm packing items as if for a move. Nearby is a judge's high desk; seated behind it is an attractive robed black woman, the Judge. She asks me if I am ready for the earthquake. I say I am, and that I can vouch for the packed items being properly prepared. I am surprised at my confidence. She is personable and friendly, yet I realize that despite this I must honor her position, so I tack on “your honor” at the end of my statement.

I tell her that Clark and I have a plane to catch. She asks me when I need to be at the airport and I say 1:00 pm, but then I realize that's when the plane is leaving, and I should leave earlier. She tells me it's 11:00 am now; I begin to feel panicky.

Interpretation: Many of the images in this dream suggest that a profound change in the psyche is working its way up to consciousness. I've prepared for a move. (I've packed properly.) The judge is black, a color denoting mystery and the workings of the unconscious. She's clearly admirable and respected--a guide. While her opinion is not to be taken lightly, she is helpful rather than critical, and I am allowed to feel confident.

She signals that big changes are in the works by asking me if I am ready for the earthquake (an earth-shattering event). When I say I am, and let her know I'm ready to make my move (catch the plane), she lets me know it's later than I think. At this point I lose my confidence. I'm not as ready for change as I had hoped.

The Pro Creative Cottage

The Dream: I have a studio in a one room cottage, and I later discover that this room was, in primitive times, a place where couples came to have sex as a rite if they wanted a child.

In the beginning of the dream I am unaware of what the place is. My first glimpse finds it occupied by a lone fellow, who sleeps rolled up in a sleeping bag, on the floor. He doesn’t want to mess up the bed, which is tidily made, so he sleeps wedged in between the bed and the door. I think he’s being silly.

A toilet mysteriously appears next to the “cottage” room, and I am on it defecating large quantities. At this point the fellow no longer occupies the cottage; I’ve become aware of its primitive history, and I know it’s my studio.

Interpretation: This dream about letting go shows a progression from my timid self who won’t sleep on the bed of creativity for fear of messing up to my expressive self who lets it all out. Once I realize that my perfectionism is “silly,” the means of letting go (the toilet) appears.  After I let it all out (defecate) I have the epiphany that the cottage is my studio: my sacred place, my place of creation.

The Crows

The Dream: Another gloomy dream from the anniversary of my mother’s death. Three women wear the same boat-necked blouse, but one has different trousers. All will be okay if the 3rd woman gets the same trousers as the other two. She does, but this does not lift the pervading gloom. Large black birds begin to circle, as ominous the crows in the Van Gogh painting made shortly before the artist’s suicide. I try to change the birds into a different sort of bird, something less threatening, I but don’t succeed.

Interpretation: The number three is important in this dream. According to Bruno Bettelheim “numbers stand for people: family situations and relations.” One stands for me, two for a couple, and three for a person in relation to his parents.* In this dream, all wear the same boat-necked blouse. Because of the gloomy overtones here, the boat evokes the river crossing of the shades of the dead in Greek mythology. The three people are me and my dead parents. The trousers are not the same in the beginning of the dream. One (me) has different trousers. Two (the couple, my parents) have the same. I think all will be okay if our trousers are the same, but my unconscious acknowledges this will mean my death (the circling black birds). I can’t change the reality of our separation, even though I try.

*Bruno Bettleheim, "The Uses of Enchantment,The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales," Vintage Books Edition, Random House, New York, May 2010, 142- 3.