Parked in the Wrong Spot

The Dream: I am driving my convertible in Livermore, a nearby town. Its downtown is deserted, covered with a foot or so of snow. The car skids out of control and I almost hit a parked white truck, but it drives away right before I would have run into it. I leave downtown and find myself on a stretch of road that that resembles what you might see driving along the ocean. There's a sidewalk on one side with nothing beyond it. No sea in sight. My car slowly flips over.

I'm unhurt, mostly embarrassed, feeling as if I've done the wrong thing. Some fellows come over to help. We right the car and then easily push it to the side of the road.

I don't want to leave it there, unattended, and—having seen how easy it is to push—think that I'll push the car through the snowed-under downtown and then back to where the streets are clear. My first challenge is to maneuver the car out of the “parking spot” the guys have left it in. I think it would have been easier if they hadn't put the car here.

Interpretation: Everything seems to be wrong in this dream. I am driving a convertible that I'm unable to control in snowy weather. I have the wrong vehicle at the wrong time and in the wrong place. My well-meaning helpers make my goal, that of protecting my vehicle, more difficult. Yet once I give up “driving” I discover that “pushing” is not difficult. The implication is that I need a different way to approach my difficulty. And the dream is pointing out that others won't solve the problem for me; they are willing to help, but then it's up to me. If I want to avoid being stuck in a place that others have chosen for me, I'd better get out and push.

A Challenging Fight

The Dream: I'm a man on a spaceship shaped like a long and narrow oval. I'm on the deck reestablishing its hexagon shapes; they've been covered with snow.

Even though I'm in outer space I am gliding over a dark sea. I wear no special outer space gear. I realize I've passed an island full of exotic beasts, but I'm so preoccupied with inscribing my hexagons, so narrowly focused, that I'm missing the marvelous sights of this amazing journey. I'm aware of the contradiction of being in space and on the sea; I don't understand it.

Later I'm in the lower portion of the ship when a fire breaks out. Someone's wife, perhaps mine, had left paper plates on deck. I wonder if these might have triggered the blaze. I'm the captain, so I rush upstairs to lead the crew in the effort to extinguish the blaze. We all realize we're fighting for our lives, and this is very energizing and motivating.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by news about the birth of the cosmos, dark matter (the dark sea), and dark energy. Is my narrow focus causing me to miss the wonders of the universe? Domesticity (the wife's paper plates) create a blaze. Am I angry about its demands? The dream points out that I need a challenge that I feel is crucially important (leading others in a life or death struggle) to be energized and motivated. Yet it is the feminine that releases the captain from his narrow focus, if we assume that the wife's paper plates did indeed create the blaze. He won't be re-instating hexagons when he's fighting for his life. On the other hand, he won't be looking at the marvels of the universe either.

So--is there something that the life and death struggle distracts from? Is it not so important in and of itself, but rather as a way of not seeing something? What about the exotic beasts? In the dream they are something like gargoyles, ugly and fascinating at the same time. Why do gargoyles appeal? They have the undeniable intrigue of something atavistic, something scary that can't hurt us. Something that holds primitive antisocial tendencies, but also symbolically protects us, just as they protected medieval churches.

Interesting to note that it is when I (the captain) go "under" (into the unconscious) that the blaze breaks out.

An Uphill Struggle

In this dream I try to come to terms with the cycle of life.
The Dream: I'm with others, my brother Greg (who died recently), my husband Clark, a man from Boston and a man from Spain. We're a team participating in a sporting event that is considered the equivalent of the Spanish bullfights. We have a huge snake in our RV: the animal is so big that its head and tale stick out the ends. The idea of the event is that we run along the outside of the camper, pushing it and its snake up a very steep, icy, snow-covered mountain. When we get to the top we are to dispose of the snake in some way, butchering and eating it, or maybe throwing it into the sea—but butchering and eating it is somehow involved.

Interpretation: My path is slippery (icy), cold and difficult, and our objective (destroying the snake) is one I'm not in complete sympathy with. My brother Greg represents the inescapable reality of my own mortality. But what about the other “players?” Clark represents my other half. We're both in the dream, so all parts of me are engaged in this struggle. The other two men represent my unresolved conflict. The man from Boston is propriety, a person who knows how the game is played, and the man from Spain evokes the dramatic ghoulishness of that country's church art. This tells me that my psyche is trying to integrate the acceptable social reaction to death (stiff upper lip, don't make others uncomfortable, pretend it doesn't happen) with my innate horrified emotional response.

In an attempt to resolve my dilemma my dream presents me with several rebirth symbols. Snakes, of course, are traditional symbols of rebirth. By eating the snake we take in his qualities and he lives on through us. Since water accompanies birth, the alternate action of throwing the snake into the water implies that he will be reborn. The issue is not resolved, but I'm working on it.

Guest Dreamer: A Walk on the Wild Side

Today's guest dreamer's emotions evolve as she processes her life experiences.Thanks, Firequeen, for this very rich dream.

The Dream: I dreamed I was walking in the woods in weather like today, cold, snow on the ground, bare branches. I was walking my dog, but not the dog I have now, nor was it Benji, my last dog. A largish dog. At the same time as I was dreaming the dream, I was also watching from the other side of the canal, and narrating what was going on. The dog kept disappearing for long periods of time, as Lola does when she goes off hunting, but now I had another explanation of where the dog was. He was walking with another person, but this was not someone living on the earth today, she was from the other side. Although she looked exactly as she would in life, I knew she was not living now. I saw her at a great distance, in the other part of the wood, but she was able to communicate her thoughts to me. She said that she returned here to walk with this dog, which had been her dog in another life. She came to these woods because it was a place that made her feel happy, and it did not mean that she was returning to where she walked her dog in life, she chose this place because it was special, and that other people came here to do the same. Sometimes I saw that she brought another dog with her, which had also been her dog, and she walked the two of them together. I seemed to wake two or three times during the dream, then continue dreaming it, but I think this was also part of the dream. Telling it, there does not seem much to it, but waking with the full memory of it, I felt very happy. It had such a happy atmosphere. Perhaps it is the feeling of life continuing, with dogs (!) that is so nice!

Carla, just remembered that the ghost woman in the dream also told me that other souls also returned to walk their dogs in this place.

Interpretation: The first image I'm going to look at is that of the woods. In my version of Firequeen's dream it evokes a magical place, something like the enchanted forest of legend and fairy tale. This is a place where we expect to see a transformation.  In the beginning of the dream the spot I'm in is cold and barren; this tells me I'm feeling alienated. The large dog I am walking represents my feelings. The dog disappears: this is the central problem I'm facing in this dream—my disconnect from my emotions. In order to look at them, I split into a narrator, the one who watches, and another person, my shadow, who acts. The canal is the watery divide between what I'm conscious of and the unconscious. Being man made, it is an artificial divide; this tells me I'm capable of changing it. As I watch, in the guise of the narrator, I learn: the canal symbolically changes from a dividing line into a conduit that flows toward healing and integration.

Who is the person I observe? As someone no longer living I could call her a ghost. In dreams ghosts sometimes represent things that haunt us—for example, things from the past that have left residues of guilt or regret. Another word for a ghost is a shadow, and, in my dream, she is the shadow of the self I used to be. This earlier self was in touch with her instincts and feelings (the dog, her inner animal). She was happy in the woods, a place of nature. As I visit this earlier version of myself I also visit the people she interacted with, people who are no longer with me (the other souls who come here). They can return to this place in my heart where we can be together. Communing with those I've lost--and, more important, with parts of myself I feared were lost-- in this place of magic and enchantment nourishes my soul. My unhappy feelings are transformed into feelings of the continuity of life. The forest that had seemed barren and desolate, I now realize, was only waiting for the right moment to spring to life. As it does I, too, am renewed. 

Nowhere to Hide

The Dream: I'm on an iceberg in a frozen world. I am taking part in a documentary meant to demonstrate how a person can create an ice fortress for protection from roaming beasts.

I have my own patch of territory, a rectangle marked with an edge of shoveled snow. The beasts begin to appear. I demonstrate how to make a small mound to hide behind. After I make the mound I'm told to crouch behind it, cradling my head in my arms. Even as I do this I have doubts that it will work. In the first place, the mound is a pile of dark earth. It seems to me that against the white snow this will only call attention to my hiding place. Next, as I try to hide behind it and tuck my head down I realize I can't see what's going on, and I don't see how that's going to help me avoid a predator.

Interpretation: This dream shows me that my defenses are useless. I've tried to make myself safe by isolating myself on a frozen patch (a place free of emotion). Yet the only way the rectangular territory is cut off from its greater environment is visually; it's ridiculously simple for any threat to breach the boundary. And the threats do come, in the form of wild animals (my unacknowledged strong feelings). My attempts to hide from these are ludicrous and only make me more vulnerable.

It's interesting that I'm making a documentary, perhaps a symbol for my dream journal. I'm following the dictates of the “director” as I build my idiotic “fortress.” The message here is that I will not find my safe place—the place where I can live—by following the path laid out for me by others. In the final dream sequence the fact that I'm questioning what I've been told will keep me “safe” is a kind of progress.

Getting to the Warmth of the Kitchen

Dreams can resolve issues we aren't aware we have.
The Dream: I am walking along a sidewalk. I come to a barrier. On the other side is a patch of ice, running down the center of the sidewalk and tended by a boy, about 12 years old, whose dumpy middle-aged mother tells me he likes to play on it. The “tending” consists of spraying the patch with water to keep it smooth. After we chat I cross over to my side of the street. The sidewalk on my side is circumscribed by a tall wood fence around my home. A gate opens to my garden. When I open it I am surprised to discover snow piled as high as the wall.

I wonder how I will get back to my house. I think I will attempt to jump up onto the snowbank. The boy offers to help. His mother watches. He moves as if to lift me up under my arms; at the same time I seem to effortlessly rise to the top of the snow. We're all pleased, and I tell the other two that now I will roll down to the house. The kitchen looks out over this snow-laden garden. Clark is inside, cooking.

Interpretation: Something that I don't often look at (it's a side walk, in other words, something that's not part of my usual preoccupation) is a barrier to me. Some part of me is frozen, and the 12 year old in me likes it that way; this part works at maintaining the freeze and smoothing it over. The two images, of barriers and ice, recur in the form of a tall wood fence around my home (me) and snow as high as the fence.

There is a gate, however, even if it opens onto a pile of snow so high that I don't think I can get into my house. This inability to gain access to my own home symbolizes an alienation from my true self. Once I let it be known that I intend to attempt to conquer the snowbank, my inner 12 year old changes from the care taker of the ice to my willing helper. Now in sync with this inner force I effortlessly surmount the obstacle. And having come this far, I can accomplish the rest by coasting ( I roll down to the house). Once inside and in the kitchen (symbolizing a place of both warmth and transformation) Clark, my other half, is cooking—yet another symbol of transformation. I've found a place where I am nurtured and can grown (the gate that opens to my garden).

Out in the Cold

The Dream: Communal singing has begun, and Clark and I join in. A young attractive woman with short curly hair asks us if we will join the church choir in our new area. She says it’s fantastic and everyone either belongs to it or joins in the singing at the services. I see a very large choir at the front of a church where the altar would normally be. The choir is joyous and full of life. I think that with Clark’s distaste for religion it isn’t likely we’ll be joining this group.

We leave the hall and are walking outside. It is summer, but there is slushy snow on the ground, and a light snow is falling. I am comfortable as we walk through the chilly air, but I notice Clark has no gloves; his hands are bare. “You have to learn how to dress for the cold,” I tell him.

Interpretation: Again I deal with isolation. The seduction of belonging is clear; the group makes beautiful music. But my other half, as represented by my husband Clark, cannot pay the price required to join in. Again the intellect is the culprit: I cannot pretend to believe what is so demonstrably not true. I tell this part of myself that since it’s going to be out in the cold, so to speak, it better learn how to dress for it.

Snowy Owl

Jung teaches us that we create what he calls “imagos” of the people around us, and that these imagos are what we interact with. They might line up with the object (the actual person) or they might be way off base. (That explains a lot of unhappy relationships, doesn’t it?) In the following dream I interact with the imago of my dead mother, trying to warm her up and bring her back to life.

The Dream: I meet a woman I like at a convention. She mentions how much she likes a beautiful shade of light yellow, Alaskan Ivory. I want to give her a gift: a large comforter.  I know she is staying in a very cold place in the mountains and might need it. The only color comforter I can find is blue on one side and green on the other. The blanket is stitched in white running stitches, not too professionally executed. I’m not happy with the color but feel the pragmatic concern is more important.

The place where this woman is staying in the mountains is very beautiful and obscure. It can be reached by only one winding road. It’s dramatic and snow-covered—the image of a wintry owl comes to mind. The colors are moonlike. This is an isolated spot for serious nature enthusiasts: cold, lonely, beautiful, dramatic.

Interpretation: I am trying to come to terms with my mother’s death—I want to warm her up, but I realize she’s living is a cool, distant remote place. I want to comfort her (give her a comforter), and I am not happy that the only one I can come up with is in the cool colors of blue and green (it’s cold comfort). My dream offers me a transformed image of my mother:  a snowy owl, a beautiful spirit (bird) that is where she is meant to be in her own spiritual space (mountain top, moonlike colors).

The Tangled Forest

Your dreams work on several different levels at the same time. While a dream might comment on a current problem, it also might—at the same time—hint that this current problem is part of a deeper pattern.

The Dream: I’m with a group of people in a classroom setting. We are about to leave on a field trip to a museum. I get separated from the group. I see a very long queue for a packed bus and look in vain for my classmates. I don’t see any, but nevertheless decide this is the right bus. In desperation not to be left behind I want to squeeze in at the head of the queue, but then notice the inside of the bus has lots of space.

I get on the bus which pulls away before I realize my group is not on the vehicle, and I’m heading I know not where. I pull the bell to get off. I doesn’t “ding” so I keep pulling, feeling the panic of speeding off in the wrong direction. The bus stops in a desolate area. My plan is to cross the street and take the bus back in the other direction. I think I am on a footpath, but soon realize I’m in the middle of traffic. I dodge the on-coming cars and make it to the opposite side of the street where I find myself in a park.

The park is covered in snow, but it is artificial snow. It has a grayish cast and an odd grainy yet slick quality. I rub it between my fingers. It is very cold. I wander through this snow-covered landscape for a while, and then come to a wooded and brambly area where the snow abruptly stops. I don’t think I can get through the tangled forest. I turn around and head back for the road.

Interpretation: I had this dream after taking an art class with an artist whose work and aims were very different from my own. Trying to assimilate what I admired about the artist’s technique while not rejecting my own style created a conflict—and this conflict pointed to a deeper issue that needed to be resolved.
At the time of the dream I was working on a piece using the art instructor’s techniques. Many images in the dream tell me not to follow the “collective” path: that is, the path of engaging in an art based on someone else’s standards, or—by expansion—to live a life based on someone else’s expectations and ideals. In the final dream image, after separating from the group but still going in the wrong direction, I find myself stuck (“park”ed) and facing an insurmountable obstacle. The dream is telling me I got into this position because I wasn’t ready to go look at some old stuff (in the museum).