Edged Out

The Dream: A bus passes; it's attractive, looking like a large one story suburban house. I wonder how it will make the turns. I get on another bus, knowing it's going in the wrong direction but thinking I can take it to a place where I can get the right one. I put a notebook down on a seat about three-quarters down the aisle to save it for myself, then go toward the front to ask the driver for directions. When I return a man has taken the seat. I'm surprised at this rudeness, but am mostly concerned with getting back my notebook.

Interpretation: The life I am accustomed to living is attractive--if circumscribed (single story); it leaves me outside my own center (it's suburban). Into the bargain, it's passing me by. I don't think this way of life will allow me to evolve (I don't think it can make the turns). Since a bus is a public conveyance, it symbolizes the direction of the society and my role as a member of that society. When I do get on a bus, I think it's going in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, I'm still hoping I can get to where I want to go, even though I've made a commitment to stay in one spot (the seat I've chosen). I realize I need some help in charting my path, so I go to the driver (the part of me that is setting my course) for some advice. When I return my fixed spot has been taken—this is a rude awakening, but my main concern is to get back a notebook. Since I use one to record my dreams I think the unconscious is trying to tell me this is an important step in the process of understanding my true path. Perhaps the unique look of the first bus I saw is a hint that even though we travel with the larger society, we might not see things the way it does.

Bird in the Hand

The Dream: I'm near a train station in the suburbs when I see something under a chair: it looks like a bird entangled in one of the chair legs. I can't tell if its a real bird or a stuffed toy. In some way the thing is off-putting and part of me wants to leave it where it is—but another part is intrigued.

I touch its soft fluffy feathers and realize it's a small purse in the shape of a bird atop a round bag. I am not sure what to do with this—whether to keep it or try to return it. I look inside and see a collection of children's silverware, little forks and spoons in a pattern very similar to my mother's silver. Suddenly I feel a desire, so strong it's physical, to keep this bag and its contents.

I go through the bag, struggling with myself. As I look at the things inside I realize it's a gift for a new mother. Besides the children's silverware, there's a CD that teaches relaxation techniques. I find a turquoise blue card with a name and address. Now that I have the name of the rightful owner I have a new quandary: clearly I should return these things, but is this the name of the sender or the recipient? If it's the recipient and I call, I will ruin the surprise. Once I decide the name and address most likely belong to the gift giver I attempt to make the call, but then I'm not sure I can make out the phone number.

Interpretation: I'm repulsed and attracted by something that I don't want to look at—but once I do I don't want to let it go. The dream is full of conflict. The object is a bird, an ancient symbol of spirit, yet it is also a purse, something that stores earthly treasure. The treasure it contains is associated with both the mother—it's her silver pattern—and the child (the child-sized utensils). Even the turquoise (blue-green) card points in two ways: blue for sadness, green for new growth. The dream is telling me that I'll achieve some new growth once I face my sadness. The mother / child symbols point to this sadness being connected to my inner child trying to come to terms with the loss of her mother. Having seen inside the bag (gained some knowledge of my inner workings through carefully observing my dreams) I very much want to hold on to what I've learned, and yet I feel anxious about my ability to do so (I can't make the call).

The Wall Flowers

The Dream: I’m in a car with some other people. At times I’m driving, at other times Clark. We come to an area surrounded by a wall covered with many beautiful flowers. The road is wooded and dense with vegetation, not like a forest, but like a suburban area that has been long established and become overgrown, yet beautiful. I ask what the wall surrounds, since something about the place seems familiar to me. I am told it’s a swimming pool; in fact it is the community pool near the house I lived in as a child. I am excited, saying, “I thought it looked familiar. I spent many hours here as a child.”  There are wide concrete steps, set at angles, going down from the pool to street level. The path meanders. I see it’s changed a lot. At some deep level I feel “activated,” but don’t stay to explore. I don’t go into the enclosed pool area.

Interpretation: The walled-off area and the pool represent the potential I had as a child, at the time of life when it seems all things are possible. But I am now like the suburban area, long established (overgrown) and changed from what I once was. The steps taking me down to reality (street level) are concrete, like the time that has past. Despite their concreteness, these steps meander. My path in life has meandered, and I can’t undo the (concrete) choices I’ve made.  Although the past can’t be changed, the way I perceive it has changed a lot. This subliminal realization is in some way exciting, but I don’t choose to explore it.

Life in the Suburbs

The Dream: A suburban subway stop is under renovation, with bulldozers and plows above ground. The area is landscaped with flowers, concrete, and grass--the attractive but institutional look often created by suburban landscape architects.

Interpretation: Here’s a neat little paradox: the suburbs, with their neat façade of order and respectability and the subway, a dark and steamy underground transport system. The composition of the landscaping—flowers, concrete, and grass—evokes a cemetery. I’m glad this stifling environment is under renovation! And of course, no matter how much it changes, the subway (unconscious) will still run below.

The Squirrel and the Cat

Things that were difficult to accept when you were a child may leave a psychic residue that your adult dreams attempt to clear. This dream and the next revisit childhood rites of passage.

The Dream: I’m on a walk with a child. We are talking about a builder. We are in a rural eastern area that is about to be built into a suburban development. In the middle of our conversation I’m distracted by a squirrel in a tree. I point it out to my child. We think it’s cute. Suddenly I see a cat stalking the squirrel and I am concerned for its safety but don’t take any action: I simply worry. The cat’s paw is very close to the squirrel’s tail. We leave, and when we come back later I see the squirrel dead, lying on the ground. I hope it didn’t suffer, knowing how cats tease their victims. I point out the dead squirrel to my child. Even as I do I think I should keep my mouth shut and not distress her. I realize I speak to share my own distress.

Interpretation: The dream shows a movement from the simple to the complex: from child-like innocence (rural) to less attractive but more complex and structured adulthood (suburbs). The mind is getting ready for being expunged from the  Garden of Eden: the awareness of death.