Can't Erase the Black Marks

The Dream: I'm in a contemporary style classroom, in a shopping mall, with Clark. I am looking for places to cover with black paint, and I find some along a wall that is organized for storage. Then I paint on the glass of some windows and an entrance door. I sling paint around and write some words that are inappropriate for the school age children who come to this place, like “damn.” I soon become aware that I've done something inappropriate and need to remove what I've written. I work at it but find the marks impossible to erase completely. Clark disapproves of my poor judgment in expressing myself in this uncensored way. When the marks I've made in the storage area prove impossible to remove, I move on to the glass door. I scrape with a single edge razor blade and can't understand why the paint won't neatly peel up as it does when I scape paint off my palette in the studio. Clark points to a window on the other side of the room and says I should have used that one instead of the door.

Interpretation: The black marks are things I've done that haunt me (stored in my unconscious), as well as my attempts at self-expression: in waking life I am a painter and the marks I'm making in the dream are with paint. I am unable to eradicate either these black marks or the content they express (damn!), even though I feel both are inappropriate. My laying down of paint in this self-expressive way makes a mess, and that's interesting because I find that's the result when I try to paint something without a plan in waking life. The dream has uncovered the genesis of my rigorous self-discipline, the strength that is also a weakness. Clark, my other half, tells me not that I shouldn't have done what I did, but that I should have found another place (a different way) to do it. He points out that the window (of opportunity) is still available.

The Reading

The Dream: I'm at a reading taking place in a storage facility. People sit among shelves and equipment. I read a piece, then ask to read another by my friend Jane. Describing Jane to the organizer I say she's intelligent and pretty—then I amend the pretty part, saying I'm not so sure about that. I wonder to myself if there is actually something a bit creepy about her looks. I think it would be good if Jane could come and talk to the group, but dismiss the idea because I think that San Francisco is too far away from her home to make the trip worth her while.

I'm allowed to read Jane's contribution. I begin to feel I might be taking too much of the group's time, having read once already. As I read I don't know whether Jane in fact wrote this—it's in the style of a Victorian like Poe--or whether it's a newly discovered old manuscript.

In any case, I read it aloud and as I do I realize I haven't prepared, and I'm stumbling over the text, not reading well at all. About the second stanza I come to a verse about farts; I wasn't expecting this and plow through, trying not to giggle like a kid.

When I've finished there is a man to my right, sitting behind a movable staircase, who seems taken with my reading. “When you smiled,” he says reverentially, “I thought you were an actress!” He speaks as if this is a great compliment, and I wonder if I should tell him that I once was an actress. I decide not to. I can see this fellow has a crush on me, and I think about telling him instead that I take my marriage vows seriously. I think about my daughter and the way she dismisses the many men who fall in love with her as if it is a homage to be expected and tolerated.

Interpretation: This dream is about acceptance. In the first paragraph the dream reveals the theme, the need for me to take a look at my stored self-concept. So as not to be too alarming, the ego is disguised behind my “friend” Jane. Then, one by one, the dream delves into my various insecurities. Apparently I am comfortable with the idea that I'm intelligent, but can't accept the idea that I am pretty—in fact, I see something about my appearance as off-putting, creepy. I'm kind of out of it, too, so far from the city that going into town is not worthwhile.

Still, I forge on with presenting myself, cloaked in the Jane character. I read her contribution, and the problems multiply. I worry that I'm imposing on the group, taking up too much of their time. I'm really not worthy of this attention. And did I actually do the work that I'm taking credit for? Maybe not. And I'm not even prepared! I stumble around, perform badly. When the unconscious finally gets fed up with all this self-abasement it presents me with a fart: a lot of hot air, and stinky to boot.

Having confronted the absurdity of my low self-esteem, an admirer appears. He lets me know my fumbling around and relentless inadequacy was nothing more than an act. He sees me as I am, and he loves me. I'm not ready to accept this acceptance so I get a little stuffy and contemplate lecturing him about marriage vows.

By the end of the dream it seems I've gone from deflation to inflation, dismissing (now in the guise of my daughter) those who love me in a high-handed manner. Or is it more subtle than that? The dream is pointing out that if I am accepted I reject the acceptor, like the old saw about not wanting to belong to a club that would let you in. That explains the man's position near the movable staircase. With this inner script there is no way to avoid climbing, endlessly.

Entangled in a Mask

The Dream: Clark and I are surprised to find an extra, unattractive room, and we don't think we have a use for it except perhaps for storage. Then I notice it's full of my old clothes. I pull out several items, excited to have found these old things: it's a sort of rediscovery. I am about to discard many of these items when I come across a skirt that attracts me: it's dated, with a fitted waist, a full skirt, and a ruffled edge. Nevertheless there is something appealing about it. It doesn't hang well, and I discover that's because it's entangled with a mask.

Interpretation: A newly discovered room (part of my psyche) is not so attractive at present, especially to my integrated self (anima: dream ego; and animus: Clark). It seems to us the room is useless except for storage. Yet when I start to discard my old clothes (outdated concepts) I discover there's something appealing about them. What are these old ideas? Perhaps they, like the ruffled skirt, are part and parcel of outdated ideas of femininity. They no longer hang well, and the reason they don't is because they've become entangled in a mask; in other words, they are not true, but part of a socially imposed persona.

Studio for Sale

The Dream: An artist friend is selling her two-story studio. The unfinished downstairs smells musty, like a basement. Black construction paper lines some of the walls. The person moving in will use the larger of the two upstairs rooms for her painting. The smaller room, to the right as I look at them, will be for storage.

Interpretation: The downstairs, evocative of a basement with its musty smell, tells me that I’m dealing with an issue that has basic, or primitive, overtones. The black paper evokes a dark cave, perhaps one with writing on its walls (paper is something we write on). That it’s construction paper hints something was built on this obscure foundation. This train of thought leads me to the Lascaux cave paintings. Here these French caves symbolize our species’ early commitment to art, and the dream deals with some sort of unconscious change in my relationship to the art I make.

The dream emphasizes duality: the studio has two stories; the upstairs has two rooms. One part of me is getting rid of her studio; another part who’s moving in seems to be elevating the work, taking it to a higher level (on the second floor) where she will paint in the larger room and store things in the smaller one. I hope the transformed artist will be nourished by the primitive energy from downstairs, and that she can synthesize that energy with the higher consciousness upstairs.