The Bear on a Fixed Track

You can learn a lot about your dream by taking the time to look at the words, especially plays on words or double meanings. The following dream is a good example.
The Dream: I have a stuffed bear that navigates the world on a track. I'm with it in the back garden, then watch as it goes through the back door of my house, on its track, and out through the front. It's not capable of locking the doors so I do that. I watch the bear roll down the street and wonder what the neighbors think of it.

I'm planning to rendezvous with my bear at a museum I used to enjoy. To get there I have to scale down what looks like an artifact of the ancient past: a steep, carved palisade. Part of its side begins to detach as I descend. Two things worry me. I don't want to deface this ancient carving, and yet I'm afraid that if I try to fix it, to make it right, I'll lose my footing and fall into the pit.

When I get to the museum it is rundown and in disrepair. Not much is left that is interesting. I'm disappointed; this place is not what it was. There's one bright spot: I recognize a stained glass window that I still like.

Interpretation: To start, let's take a look at the word “bear.” Am I as grumpy as a bear? Is there something I can't bear? Am I feeling discouraged, in the dumps (bearish)? Am I closed-minded, fixed and unswerving in my fixed track? One thing seems obvious, the state of mind this dream is dealing with is rooted in the past. You'll notice the references to the back garden, the back door, the palisade that's an artifact of the past, and the museum, a place that houses old things. And since my bear is stuffed, I'm guessing that what's got me down and grouchy is some stuff from way back.

The dream gives me an opportunity to work through some unresolved past issues. The meeting with my bear takes me to a place where I can look at my old stuff (in the museum) and realize it's not interesting anymore. My fears are unnecessary: I don't lose my footing or fall into the pit along the way. If the carved sides along my descent are disintegrating, I accept that I can't fix them. And there is even a bright spot: I find something to love and cherish, a stained glass window. It lets in a transformed and colorful light.

Stealing Fire

The Dream: In a large open city square a woman is selling firewood; I need some for the poor. I know it's wrong to steal, but I see no other way of getting what is so desperately required. I have a small drawstring bag with me, and I surreptitiously fill it, then disappear. I've hidden my stolen property so I can blend in on city streets. I have a nagging guilty feeling that I will be pursued.

In time I come to a very beautiful and elaborate wrought-iron gate, the outer entry to a church. I would like to pray, so I go to a door in the gate and, finding it ajar, go in. The church interior is of warm sienna/golden ochre toned wood. Under high vaulted ceilings many priests and altar boys are everywhere, in constant motion. I look for a spot for quiet contemplation but don't see one. Two young acolytes rough house. Does their play have sexual overtones? I think this is not what I'm looking for and I leave.

I am lost. I need to get back to mid-town but have no sense of direction. I see a street sign that tells me I'm at 217th Street and wonder how I got here. I don't know whether I should ask someone for directions or use the street signs to figure out which way I'm going.

Interpretation: This dream reminds me of the myth of stealing fire from the gods. As in that story, I want to bring the fire to others. I go too far (217th Street!), get lost, and along the way become disillusioned with what I see of the traditional path to god (the church). In this dream the church is so relentlessly masculine that even its sexuality is directed toward men. Is there anything for a woman here? The dream tells me to acknowledge, rather than steal from, the source of the firewood: my enlightenment will come from the feminine (the woman who sells the wood), not the masculine (the traditional, male-oriental church). There is a price to be paid for it (the wood is not free), but avoiding payment will not further my spiritual development.

Through a Glass Darkly

The Dream: I'm wandering through the streets of New York with a partner who seems somewhat--but not quite--like my husband Clark. The sidewalks are interspersed with trees; they remind me of Manhattan's East 60s, near where I once lived. It is early autumn. We are looking for Uncle Steve, and there is something mysterious about the mission. He has relocated and won't tell anyone where he is.

We go into a large old-fashioned apartment building, dimly lit with wide hallways. We know he's here. The door of his apartment is half frosted glass. We knock. He doesn't answer. Clark bangs loudly and assertively on the door. Finally Uncle Steve answers, not by opening the door but by yelling at us. He wants to be left alone.

Interpretation: My uncle's birthday was a few days ago; he died in the early 80s. His death is indeed a relocation. I'm looking for someone to tell me what awaits on the other side of the door. The door's frosted glass tells me, in the obscure and poetic language of the King James Bible, that spiritual truths are glimpsed “through a glass darkly.” In a recent dream class the idea was offered that if you ask your spirit guide the wrong question s/he won't answer, and also that the departed must volunteer for the job. It doesn't appear that Uncle Steve wants this one.

Looking at the dream's more mundane possibilities, my uncle was one of the authoritative adults when I was a child. How many questions does a child have that are left unanswered? Or responded to with anger?

By the Book

The Dream: Clark and I are in New York City. I have a special booklet, sparkling and glowing, that I want to give to a young person who I feel needs the information. We look for her house on 3 different streets but can't find it. I know the general location, but none of the houses look exactly right. Finally I suggest that we wait for her to come outside. The townhouses are like those on the upper West Side with steps going up to their entryways, very well maintained and updated.

Interpretation: The special booklet contains some sort of enlightenment (it sparkles and glows). It isn't very thick, so it is probably recently acquired psychic knowledge, as opposed to revelations that have accumulated over a long period of time. The young person I want to give this to is the newly emerging self that appeared in the previous dream. I am having trouble locating her, and none of the houses (the integrated selves; in other words, this new self plus my gnarly old self) seem right. The dream is telling me that I'm not quite ready for the psychic change taking place. I come up with a reasonable solution: let's wait for her to come to us. The townhouses, being well maintained and updated, symbolize my new (spiritual) home (self).

Crossing My T's and Dotting My I's

The Dream: At a T junction a toddler breaks away from the group she's with and runs into the street. I am closest to the infant so I step into the street holding up my hand to stop the flow of cars. As I go after the baby I feel partially paralyzed: either because I'm concerned that I'll get hit by a car or because I can't move as fast as I think I should. In any case it's fast enough. I pick up the baby, who is safe, and return her to her parents who, I think, should have been watching over her more carefully.

Interpretation: As recent difficult life transitions visit my children in waking life I struggle with feelings of motherly inadequacy. Am I doing enough to save them? Are they okay on their own? The dream says I could have done more (moved faster to avert a looming problem) but it also says I've done enough. The baby is safe.

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).

Old-Time Religion

The Dream: I’m in a city, wandering the streets. I start from a school. There are many churches: each street seems to have one, old, beautiful and out of date. It is nighttime, and I go into one.

Interpretation: Nighttime; the time of dreams and spirit. I leave the learning of the day (school) and enter the spirit realm.

She Kills with Kindness

The Dream: A woman, a celebrity, has a lot of children 7 and under. They are all on a large bed that protrudes onto a city street and seem retractable, like the produce stands that sprout on city streets during business hours. The woman tenderly ministers to the children, but I know she’s killing them. Yet I can’t believe it; she appears to be so genuinely loving. I am confused.

Interpretation: The loving tenderness reminds me of my mother. The retractable bed brings to mind the memory of a time when all three of us children were sick, and Mom set up beds in the living room. She took wonderful care of us. Does the parent, as part of his/her “duty” inevitably “kill” aspects of her children, for example, anti-social, selfish desires or the child’s narcissism? Might the untamed unconscious see this as some sort of murder? Is my psyche still trying to understand these two conflicting roles my mother and all mothers enact?

The Magic Bike

The Dream: I’m riding a bicycle on a busy city street. It’s not exactly under my control, and I am uneasy. I’m pedaling on the sidewalk, crowded with people. I worry about slamming into a curb when in a crosswalk, but the bike magically jumps the curb. I’m worried about hitting people, but that doesn’t happen either. Each half of the odd-looking handle bars can move independently of the other. The brakes are in the pedals, but they don’t work; when I try to use them they only spin around.

Interpretation: I’m moving under my own steam (on a bicycle), yet getting from here to there is making me anxious. I’m not in the right place: I’m on the sidewalk rather than in the street. And let’s look at the word “sidewalk:” Am I side-stepping something? When I come to a possible turning point (the crosswalk) I worry about meeting an obstacle (slamming into a curb). As I surmount this difficulty (the bike magically jumps the curb), I have a new worry: I might hurt someone (hit people). I successfully navigate that obstacle, when I’m faced with two new problems. First, my handle bars move independently of each other; this unusual steering device tells me that I’m trying to go in two directions at once. And second, I’d better slow down, because my brakes don’t work.

Guest Dreamer: The Light and the Dark

This dream was donated by BostonBabe, who provides us with both a context and an interpretation for her dream. She has asked for my comments as well, so I’ll add them at the end of the post.

The Context: Nine months ago, I left my corporate job to devote time to my own creative work. Eight days ago, I held an open house in my home to show my recent work, the first public viewing of my art in five years. Two days ago, I spent the afternoon with an artist and his wife (a former colleague). I was introduced to artist friends of theirs, saw the husband’s recent work, and was given some guidance on the business of art. That night, I had some disturbing dreams.

Three Dream Fragments:

1. A piece entitled Floor Lamp, the first piece in my show--to the left as you enter the gallery--lies in disarray. It has fallen off its shelf and lies on its side on the floor, damaged. The art books that were carefully arranged in a pyramiding stack under the shelf are also in disarray scattered about the floor. Needless to say, this was upsetting.
2. Out of necessity, I have gathered up some essential belongings and am holed up in the back seat of my car, which is parked outside my house. My house is isolated on a dark, lonely street. As I look towards the end of the road (to the right as you face the house), I see the entrance to a dark woods. I am frightened.
3. This dream is the most fragmentary: A man is dying very, very slowly.  Not painfully, or sadly, but in a very slow process. 

 BostonBabe’s Interpretation: On one level, the danger captured in these fragments is from my inner critic, who goes back to my father.  I think the stubborn persistence of the inner critic in my psyche is captured in dream  Fragment 3. The destruction in dream Fragment 1 may be my inner critic's response to the "audacity" of claiming to create work that is founded on centuries of art history (represented by the piled up art books) -- the "audacity" of claiming my place as an artist. As for dream Fragment 2, I think I am concerned, not only about managing my inner critic, but also about the couple I visited right before the dreams -- can I trust them? Do they have my best interests at heart? Do I need to protect my self? Will I lose control of my life? Anxiety about becoming more visible to the "serious" art community may have influenced this fragment, as well my concern to protect my creative core.

Carla:  Since interpretations of others’ dreams—as well as of their words or deeds, for that matter—are projections, I will take BostonBabe’s dream on as my own in these comments. My take on it may or may not be true for BB.

Down the Steep Stairs

Although no man is an island, sometimes it feels that way. Dreams can help us find, and understand, our niche.

The Dream: I live in an apartment in a city, and I’m preparing to go to a zumba class. I’m looking through a box in the closet and find a second pair of zumba shoes that I had forgotten I have. I decide to wear these, along with a two-layer aerobic outfit. I know I"ll be too hot dressed this way; nevertheless I put on the layers. The layer closest to my body is a turtle-neck jumpsuit; over this, a decorative lace dress. Though I like my high-heel zumba shoes better, I want to wear the newly discovered low-heels.

As I exit the apartment building there's an unexpected hurdle. I am on the fourth or fifth floor, and the only way to street level is down a very steep and precarious staircase. It’s made of broken

Overcoming the Past

Dreams can deal with painful material from the past, as I think this one does. Even without specifically remembering the event, the dream helps us resolve the issues involved.

The Dream: I’m out driving, trying to avoid a rough-looking neighborhood. I turn into a street with older buildings which look like one-story garages. It’s a poor neighborhood, but bright. I wonder if I’ve arrived in a scary part of town after all, but I see children, smiling and happy-looking, so I don’t feel threatened.  At the end of the street is a low house with a screened-in front porch.

I go in. I chat with the woman who lives here. She is middle-aged and I am younger. She has a tasty-looking dish on a sideboard. I try some and find out it’s made of squirrel. I think using squirrels for food might solve the problem I have with them eating the seed in my bird-feeder, and besides, it is delicious. But I wonder who will skin them.

There is a silver contraption on another sideboard. To my surprise, the woman pulls out a very long, sharp gleaming silver knife. I am uncomfortable with her standing there with this knife in her hand. “This belongs to the children,” she says.

Interpretation: I go into the past (a street with older buildings), where I feel threatened (the rough-looking neighborhood) and meet the woman in charge (the part of me still living with an old wound). She feeds me unusual and unexpected but delicious food. Besides nourishing me, this food might be a way to protect my offerings to my soul or spirit. Birds often represent both; and I want to safeguard my “bird-feeder” from the squirrels. But there is some ambivalence: eating the food, solving the soul problem, requires skinning the animal (exposing my vulnerability?)

The woman surprises me by pulling a knife out of an old wound (silver can represent the past, tarnished and/or precious). At first I find her possession of this knife threatening, but she diffuses its power by saying it belongs to the children. Perhaps she is hinting that children caused the painful event in the past. However, the children in the dream are not threatening, signaling I’ve moved on.

Abducted by Aliens:The Chosen

         
Not to be outdone by my brother (see yesterday’s blog), I also have an encounter with aliens—but mine ends in a party instead of a fight. You can probably put that down to the difference between boys and girls. (Oops, I think I’d better duck!)

The Dream: I’m wandering around the streets of NYC on a bright sunny day, preparing for a move by loading things into a big open cart placed near the curb. Mother is helping. I’m in a residential part of the city, with tall apartment buildings and wide streets, somewhere on the upper West side.

In the next scene a group of us (we’re young adults or teenagers) have been abducted by aliens. This is a sort of privilege; we don’t understand much about what’s going on but we know we’ll be informed as events unfold. We know a party is being planned; our group will meet with other similar groups in a “mixer.” The entire group is attractive and smart: the chosen.

Interpretation: Clearly, I’m ready for some sort of large change (a move). The street symbolizes my path in life. The change is probably some sort of spiritual move since my possessions (worldly goods) are being “curbed.” West can be a symbol for the unconscious, and upper a symbol for consciousness. So the upper West side suggests some unconscious material is integrating into my conscious awareness.
As in my brother’s dream, the aliens stand in for parts of me that I find, well, alien. Since we use only a very small part of our potential brainpower, it stands to reason that quite a bit of what’s going on within us is alien. The dream tells me that getting to know these aliens within is a good thing. Let’s party!