How a Dream Turned into a Painting

Carla: Elaine Drew links one of her paintings directly to a dream. In this post she'll show us the path that took her there.

Elaine Drew: The inspiration for this piece, called Journey was a dream in which I was to about to be sacrificed in a primitive religious rite. (That scene is represented in the 3rd panel of this 4 panel painting.) What, I wondered, was that all about?

Because the dream seemed to embody a spiritual quest of some sort, I organized the artwork along the lines of a medieval predella, a small strip of narrative scenes that appear at the bottom of an altarpiece. This organization reflected my asking myself what was at the bottom of the dream?

This led me to think that consciousness, the great gift that makes us human, might be a double-edged sword. That is the theme of the second panel. Here the figure carries consciousness like both a precious gift and a burden.

So, in the first image we enter life, unconscious, enclosed in a particular culture and point of view. Our first task is to break out of our shells, hit the road, and experience life in all its complexities. As we do this, in the second panel, we attain consciousness, and this includes the awareness of our own mortality. In the third panel we face the threat that this hard earned consciousness will be obliterated.

Wait a minute! I thought. I've been told that dreams come to us to tell us things we don't know. My piece needed a 4th panel, one that would get me past the limits of my current understanding.

It took a while, and some of the false starts most of us are familiar with when we try to solve a problem. Finally, as you can see in the 4th panel, the idea of the renewed self emerges into a built environment. And then the meaning of the piece became clearer to me: while I will probably never understand the mystery of life on earth, I can understand the process of death and resurrection that often plays a part during our lives. We are asked to sacrifice, and at times it feels like too much. Or we find our hopes or ideas dead in the water. But then a kind of natural salvation kicks in. We re-emerge with an expanded consciousness. It engulfs us, and we see the world through it. We are now in the world we built, no longer wandering in a barren wilderness. The sacrifice is behind us.

So, the Journey begins again. The painting is about life, about change, about learning as we go, and about the hope for an ultimate understanding that makes sense of it all.

I Sacrifice My Social Security

The Dream: My daughter has been working as a prostitute in order to pay off her school debt. At first my husband Clark and I don’t react to this; we think she’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions. However, I come to realize, and can see in her countenance, that this “work” is a threat to her very soul since it demands that she cut herself off from her true feelings. I want to help her get out of this situation, so I offer her money. I don’t have much, only my social security check, but I decide, after a little internal struggle, that I don’t need it.

Interpretation: In this dream I begin to realize that I’ve been prostituting my inner vision to satisfy outside demands. I’m paying off a debt (what I owe others) for my education--or what might be more accurately called my socialization. In the course of the dream I become willing to sacrifice approval (social security) to free myself from the necessity to do work I don’t love.

My Inner Men

Don't discount a dream if you only remember a fragment; sometimes these are are surprisingly revealing.

The Dream: An image of a large group of transvestites.

Interpretation: Jung thinks that men have an inner woman, the anima, whom he describes as the soul, or Eros. Like most psychiatrists of his era, he had a harder time understanding the inner workings of women, but he came up with the concept that we each had an inner unconscious man, which he called our mind or spirit: Logos.

I’ll let Jung speak for himself: “Woman is compensated by a masculine element and therefore her unconscious has, so to speak, a masculine imprint. . . . woman’s consciousness is characterized more by the connective quality of Eros than by the discrimination and cognition associated with Logos.  . . .  In women . . . Eros is an expression of their true nature, while their Logos is often only a regrettable accident. “*

Hmmm: those terribly logical and rational men, their consciousness in touch with Logos, can’t seem to stop fighting and killing each other—but Jung will explain my comment this way, “. . . it consists of opinions instead of reflections, and by opinions I mean a priori assumptions that lay claim to absolute truth.”**

So be it. But I bet if you ran the numbers (murders committed by women vs. murders committed by men, for example) they’d back me up. And this is why my inner men are wearing dresses!

*Carl Gustav Jung, The Portable Jung, Edited by Joseph Campbell, Translated by R.F.C. Hull, New York: Penguin Books, 1976, p152.
**Ibid.

Butterflies

The Dream: The manzinita bush in the back garden is covered with butterfly cocoons and emerging butterflies. I look at them analytically to figure out what kind of butterflies they are. I’m a little worried about the fact that they are so plentiful.

Interpretation: Traditionally butterflies have been a symbol of transformation: the soul emerging from the body as the butterfly emerges from the cocoon. I try to understand this wonder with my intellect (analytically). When I can’t, I become uncomfortable. The unconscious is pointing out that I cannot understand everything using reason and logic. 

A Plane in a Cave

The Freudians would have a field day with this imagery, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed to me that the dream was about the immortal soul. (An appropriate post for Sunday, no? Unconsciously selected, of course.)

The Dream: I am in a very large cave, made of a reddish stone. It reminds me of the caves in the Dordogne. I see people looking expectant, as if an event is about to take place.  To my surprise I spot an airplane perched among the cave’s rocky outcrops, very neatly wedged into a series of rocks near the top. Did it crash there, I wonder? Yet it looks unscathed. The airplane’s crew are getting ready to do something, we know not what. A little house is set into the rock next to the plane. Some crew members will sleep in the plane, others in the house; they seem to be sorting out the arrangements. I see welcoming lights shining from the windows of the house set in stone, and I am interested to see that it’s used. I had often wondered about its purpose. I spend most of the time in the dream wondering how the plane got in, and how it can possibly get out.

Interpretation: The cave is associated with the Lascaux caves of the Dordogne, a famous repository of Paleolithic art. This tie-in to ancient man implies the dream harkens back to my earliest experience of consciousness. How early? The reddish color of the cave suggests the womb. The “expectant” people include my mother, who awaits my birth. Airplanes are symbolic of our aspirations, and this airplane is my immortal soul. Its location, high above the cave’s floor, is another hint that the dream is dealing with the holy; gods often dwell on mountain tops. How did spirit (the plane) come to be lodged in matter (the inside of the earth, a cave)? How precarious it looks, and yet it’s neatly wedged and seems stable. Some aspects of the soul (the crew) remain in their natural setting (the plane). Others will dwell in the earthly rock house, at least until it’s time to depart. I ponder this wonder: how did the soul get here, and how will it leave?