Am I Dark?

The Dream: A woman, a teacher, lives nearby. She has an Irish/German/American face, but dark coloring. She is looking into her family history and says that her ancestors come from Nom, a country she has been unable to locate on a map.

I go home and look at a map and, to my surprise and delight, very quickly discover that the province of Nom is inside Egypt. I go to her place and bang excitedly on the door. (Her house is a white stationary trailer.) She answers, and I enter the narrow building. “I've found Nom,” I say. “It's in Egypt.”

I either think or say, “That explains why you are so dark.”

Interpretation: This woman has something to teach me. Nom in French means name. This--plus the woman's mixed ancestry, her family history research, and her inability to locate her family's geographical origin--tells me that this dream is dealing with where I fit into the human family. Where do I come from? And beyond that, what does it mean to be human?

The dream tells me that the “dark” aspects I carry within (and that are clearly visible to all) are ancient (like Egypt) and very rich (like the Pharaohs). If I disavow these parts of myself I'm left with a life that is white and narrow, like the woman's trailer home. This is another way of saying that my self-understanding doesn't own up to the complexity of the human psyche and experience. At the same time, while accepting my atavistic human traits is an important step in developing the sort of human being that doesn't wallow in self-righteousness, it's not an excuse or justification for bad behavior.

A Portrait

The Dream: A woman and I are sitting at a table, across from each other. We're each drawing portraits, straight-on heads. I am the teacher. She's very skillful; my criticism of her work is that it lacks feeling. I take her drawing and, with her permission, make corrections. I change the mouth, making it a vibrant pink and somewhat pouty, or sensual. My other criticism is that the portrait is vague: it's very soft and lacks definition, with one color bleeding into the next.

Interpretation: The Unconscious gives me a drawing lesson! The artist I'm instructing in this dream reminds me of an egg tempera painter who wanted to meet me; she came to my house as an acolyte. When she showed me her paintings it was clear that she was highly skilled—more so than I—in handling the medium. Yet she was not satisfied with her work because, she said, it lacked imagination. This was true. As with many painters, her skill exceeded her conception. Yet she loved painting, and enjoyed her chosen subject matter. Of course I complimented her skill. I said that it only made sense for her to do what resonated with her. I suggested keeping a dream journal if she wanted to develop some original ideas.

In the dream I admire the artist's skill but feel she needs more expression, as symbolized by my “fixing” the mouth, the organ of speech. So the message for me is, of course to express myself.

When I tried drawing the face this artist drew in the dream I learned something about how to use color pencils—that is, very softly and delicately, building up color with gentle iterations. I tend to jump to the finish immediately, and that can make me heavy-handed, a hard thing to recover from! So the dream taught me this about self-expression: take it easy; let it develop; don't jump in with too much clarity and definition. The things I criticize in the dream artist are exactly what I need to do.

She's Blossoming

Today's guest dream comes from Nasrin Beyraghdar who created the lovely artwork that illustrates her dream.

The Dream: I was talking with some of my cohorts, and then I noticed that something that looked like green thorns were coming out of my index finger. I showed it to someone (I cannot remember who), and asked that person to see what it was. She said, “Go to dissertation teacher, she knows how to take it out.” Then suddenly many flowers began to sprout on the back of my hand, all were spontaneously bursting into bloom. The flowers were violets, they had a light and darker violet shade of color and there were clusters of them all over my hands and arms. Then I woke up.

Carla's thoughts: If this were my dream, I would feel that it had been triggered by something work-related. (I'm with my cohorts.) I'm uncomfortable; it's a prickly situation, perhaps caused by my inexperience (the green thorns). I ask for help and am sent to the person who directs dissertations. Since a dissertation is a document in which I put forth my original ideas and place them before others who will judge them, my discomfort might be caused by my concern that my true thoughts and beliefs will not be accepted. Once my dream puts its finger on what's bothering me and I go to the proper guide (my inner dissertation teacher, who can speak out with authority), my true self bursts into bloom. The flowers sprout from my hand, the part of my body that touches the world and represents my “feelings.” I am blossoming. The violet color suggests I've arrived at a new spiritual understanding, perhaps one that I can hand over to others.

I Don't Get It; Or Do I?

The Dream: I'm in my studio. A woman, a teacher, comes in. She is youngish, about 35 to 40, slim, blonde, curly hair. She is an attractive woman but seems middle-of-the-road, not too interesting. Yet she gets to make decisions about whose art is seen.

She lets me know that my art has been under consideration for some time. “On the one hand, you get it,” she says. “On the other, you don't.” I try to figure out what she means by this enigmatic statement. She lets me know that the judges were somewhat encouraged when I did a piece that seemed to support the police. Unlike, she said, most of my work. I am confused. I have nothing against the police. She lets me know that they consider my skill level impressive but don't care for my subject matter. In a way I'm encouraged by this: she and the “panel” seem so much a part of the mediocre herd that I think it's probably a good sign if they don't care for what I do. I think the day will come when my work will be appreciated. In a way I'm relieved that it is unusual enough to cause these “judges” difficulty.

Interpretation: Was this dream the result of going to a quilt show and perhaps feeling at an unconscious level that the work was beautifully executed but lacking in a higher purpose? Is this what I think, or fear, about my own work? There is certainly a parallel between quilting and my egg tempera painting—both require meticulous attention to craft. The police metaphor refers to the self discipline that this sort of work requires, and it seems the dream underlines some not too surprising ambivalence toward it. In the end I accept, even welcome, the place where I am.

Dancer in the Dance

The Dream: I’m taking dancing lessons. At first the teacher is enchanted with my potential. Later she comments on two of us students: “Clara and Carla, I thought they were going to be something special; but no, they are a disappointment.” I understand I have no outstanding talent, and I think “I’m too old for fancy leaps.” I awakened feeling unsettled.

Interpretation: In waking life I’m dealing with an elderly and demented relative, and part of the job is finding a burial site for her. This unpleasant duty was the inspiration for this dream. The meaning here of being unexceptional is that my fate in the dance of life is the same as her fate; in other words, I’m going to die. Of course this is not news, and yet to face it is unsettling, especially since I’m too old for fancy leaps.

Guest Dreamer: Thirsty

Can dreams predict the future? Isabel brings us a dream that seems to foretell a brother’s illness.

The Dream: I am in the parking lot of a grocery store and I notice that I am feeling abnormally thirsty. I walk up to the front of the store and realize that there is a huge bucket filled with Arrowhead water bottles. I quickly grab as many as I can and begin gulping them down one after another. I can't stop drinking and just keep becoming thirstier. All of a sudden I find myself no longer at the grocery store but instead in front of my science teacher's classroom at my old middle school. To my surprise, I see another bucket filled with water bottles and I immediately start drinking until all the water bottles are gone and I finally feel satisfied.

Isabel’s comments: When I woke up I thought nothing of the dream, and didn't think of it until about two weeks later when my brother was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes. My family and I were in his hospital room while a nurse was talking to us about the disease. She said that one of the main symptoms is being really thirsty all the time. At that point I thought immediately of my dream and told my family about it saying that I must either be psychic or have Diabetes myself. They were amazed that my dream occurred before all of this had happened and my dad suggested I tell my Aunty Emily [a frequent commenter on this blog] since she is in a dream group. I told her today and she started to think about the significance of the fact that the water bottles were Arrowhead and said that we should try breaking the word down into two parts. When I did that I thought of how an arrow points so maybe it was pointing towards the water and the fact that water takes care of your health.

Carla’s comments: In past times people believed that dreams could indeed foretell the future—but they also believed the earth was flat and a lot of other nonsense.* Nevertheless, there might be some ways in which a dream can give you information about the future by cluing you in to things that are subliminal—in other words, things that are below your threshold of awareness. We all observe many things without being aware that we are observing them.

Carla’s  projection: I may have noticed, in waking life, that my brother was excessively thirsty, yet been unaware of my own observation. At a deeper level I knew this was important, so my dream brought this to my attention.

Some people report that they became aware of an impending disease as the result of a dream. Many of our physical processes are completely unconscious: how, for example, do we regulate a baby’s growth in utero or decide when to get a fever? This unconscious physical activity can pop up in our dreams to alert us to a problem.  Might I have diabetes myself, as I wondered when I remembered my dream after hearing of my brother’s diagnosis? Since diabetes has a genetic link that is a possibility, and I will be sure to be tested.

In the clever way of dreams, my dream has some interesting word play. When it opens, I’m in the parking lot of a grocery store. In other words, I am parked (or stopped) in a place of growth (a gro cery). There is something I must stop and look at before I can proceed. The arrowheads are pointing out that the problem is connected to my thirst. I am near my science class. The word “science” comes from the present participle of the Latin word scire, meaning “to know”. Where do we learn things? In class. So—to sum it up so far: I can’t go anywhere until I learn the thing that is being pointed out to me. The reference to middle school refers to my being in the middle of something; in this case, in the middle of a family crisis. Once I  learn the necessary thing, my thirst (for the right information) will be satisfied.

* As if to give me a little slapdown for that remark, after I wrote it I had a dream with a silly little "precognitive" element. I dreamed my mother-in-law was looking for a new bed. Talking to my sister-in-law the next day I told her the dream and she said--guess what? A new bed had just arrived for her mother.

A Wig for Yoga

The Dream: Several women, including me, are waiting for a yoga teacher. She’s unreliable and on several occasions in the recent past has been a no show. I don’t think she’s coming: but finally she does.

There are two wigs available for class participants to wear. Wigs, it seems, are part of a proper yoga costume. I want to wear one. As I head for the clothesline where one is hanging someone beats me to it. I could have sped up, cut her off, and taken the prize, but I think that would be rude so I don’t. There’s still the other wig, and it’s considered “fair” to remove it from another’s head and claim it. But this one is being worn by a perfectly bald woman who recently underwent chemo—so I feel this would not be the right thing to do. The upshot? No wig for me.

Interpretation: I am waiting for a spiritual advisor (yoga teacher) even though I have reason to believe she is unreliable. Hair, coming out of our heads as it does, can represent our thoughts. In this dream I spend a certain amount of energy running after ideas which are clearly not right for me (the false hair). The dream tells me not to rely on others to teach me the meaning of life, but to look to my own inner voice for spiritual guidance.

Guest Dreamer: Laid Off and Weeping

Today’s guest dreamer is Emily. She is an experienced dream worker and will interpret her own dream—although that isn’t a word she likes to use. “I'm never comfortable with using 'interpretation' when working with a dream,” she says, “perhaps because there never is one interpretation.” That’s a good point.
       
The Dream: I am in the instructor’s room at the county jail where I used to work as a teacher. I sit at a small round wooden table across from my tall blond co-worker Alyssa. Our boss Evans walks in and asks her if she has 2 ½  hours available. He then talks about how good Alyssa has been on the job; so good, in fact, that he is going to have to lay her off. Tension builds in the room. Alyssa stands up to walk out with Evans to go to that 2 ½  hour meeting where she’ll be terminated, and she starts to cry. I stand up to hug her, and I start crying as well. As we embrace and weep together, she inadvertently knocks off my Tilley hat.

Emily’s thoughts on her dream: As jail is a form of imprisonment, I see how I can imprison myself by being “too good” a daughter, wife, or friend. So good, in fact, my animus needs to deliver me from my self-imposed and compulsive responsibility that has recently resurfaced in waking life (I know my boss never took his job half as seriously as I took mine, so the message comes across loud and clear).

The weeping is timeless grief. As Alyssa grieves at leaving her “dream” job (which I held in waking life for many years with much satisfaction), I grieve at the passing of my old, unhealthy habit of needing to be needed. Allyssa knocks off my Tilley hat which represents outdoor activity, recreation, freedom.  By embracing Allyssa the dream ego shows compassion for the qualities that are not so great about the “good girl” persona. Perhaps she’ll soon put the hat on!

Carla’s thoughts: If this were my dream, I would ask myself about the significance of 2 ½ since my dream emphasizes that number by mentioning it twice.

The things I’m “too good” at are socially determined roles: daughter, wife, friend. The phrase “laid off” tells me that some part of me is saying, “Lay off! Gimme a break.”

It’s a Mystery

Have you ever noticed your unconscious makes mash ups of what you’ve seen and heard over the past few days? Nevertheless, if you look at the images carefully you can usually discover something about yourself you weren’t aware of.

The Dream: I live in a boarding house. Poirot and I share a room. I begin to realize that he has murdered several previous tenants, among them Rock Hudson. I obliquely try to discuss this with our landlady, who resembles Sherlock Holmes’s Mrs. Hudson. Poirot overhears us, and I say to him, “You’re going to try to kill me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” he replies. I think this will be quite a contest, me against the great Poirot.

I stand in line at a college. The advisors are sitting at folding tables outside. One of them is Dr. ______ from Emory, an English professor who impressed me. When my turn comes I tell Dr. ______ about Poirot’s intention to kill me. I‘m not sure she is the proper advisor for this particular problem, but if not I hope she can direct me toward the right person.

Interpretation: A strongly masculine part of me, represented by Rock Hudson, has been “killed” by another powerful force of the psyche represented by Poirot. The starting line up: Rock Hudson—so masculine he doesn’t even have sex with women; Poirot—cunning, devious, intellectual, repressed, very effective, prissy.
At the beginning of the dream this realization is so frightening that I cannot face it squarely, but must allude to obliquely. Even this disguised reference doesn’t save me from the all-seeing Poirot, who admits he will kill me for uncovering his earlier murder.

As the dream progresses I get stronger: I don’t react to Poirot’s threat with the terror that previous dream annihilations engendered, but rather pluckily refer to the upcoming “contest.”

I look for help from some established members of the psychic team, most especially an admired but nameless English professor. The teacher and her subject (English) are hints that my writing in this journal is a helpful tool of re-integration of previously “killed” aspects of the psyche.

I am impatient with this process (waiting in line), and not completely sure I have the proper “advisor.” However, I do have more confidence than previously; that’s obvious from my having not retreated in terror from my threatening “killer.” And I am hoping my advisor, if not the person to solve the problem, can at least point me in the right direction.