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.

Sisterhood is Powerful

The Dream: I’m in a very nice, upscale restaurant with Clark and my two daughters, who are adults, but are wearing clothes they might have worn as children. The dresses are pretty, old-fashioned, summery. I say something about the fights they had as children over clothes. “Are you going to embarrass us in this restaurant?” I ask. They pretend they are going to have an argument, just to tease me.

Interpretation: My waking- life daughters didn’t fight over clothes or embarrass us in restaurants, and they don’t currently dress as children: the children in this dream represent my own inner children and tell me that I’m integrating psychic material from the past. (Their clothes are old fashioned.) Their squabbles stand for old internal conflicts that still make me uneasy. (“Are you going to embarrass us. . ?”) On the other hand, their differences have apparently been worked out to the point that they can get together and tease me. And I know they’re teasing, a good sign.

Does the Coat Still Fit?

What is the price of social acceptance? Today’s dream, a variation on the theme of my last post, discovers the source of “social security.”

The Dream: I’ve left a beautiful coat that my mother made for me in a restaurant. She has embroidered my name into its lining. My Aunt Jenya—famous in the family for her mercurial artistic temperament--has died, and I’ve been given nothing of hers. I regret this, because I think some of her things represent treasures of old Russia and would be wonderful to have. I go back to the restaurant and retrieve the coat.

Interpretation: The coat is the protective warmth of a loving parent. I almost lose it by my association with the difficult aunt, who represents my unpleasant, out-spoken, aggressive side. But it turns out I have none of her qualities (I’ve been given nothing of hers). Because I have none of these (I’ve repressed my “difficult” personality traits) I can go back to the place of sustenance, the restaurant, and wrap myself once again in maternal approval. But—by repressing the negative qualities this aunt represents, am I also repressing her good qualities (her artistic talent)? Maybe I’ve outgrown the coat.