What am I Looking For?

The Dream: I see my friend with a drink and want a glass of wine, even though I've just finished one and feel slightly tipsy. I go to the circular bar, in a room that separates the one I'm in from an adjoining theater. From the entry it looks as if I need to circle around to the back to get the bartender's attention, but once I do I realize that's not right: I need to go back to the place where I started. As I get near the bar—my turn is next—an older lady and her daughter shove in front of me. “I'm next,” I tell them. They don't seem offended, but on the other hand while they smile and appear to acquiesce, they push past me and get the bartender's attention.

The bar staff, in stage makeup, leave the bar to join the troupe in the theater. A woman, in particular, is clownishly made up—very white skin, with a little bow mouth. She's dressed like a flapper in pinkish lavender with cheeks and curly hair to match. She's middle-aged or older. The man's style matches hers. They resemble Otto Dix caricatures.

I'm left standing at the deserted bar, still waiting for my drink. On their way out one of bartenders says, “Look at yourself, you're ridiculous.” Then I realize how silly I look, futilely standing at the deserted bar waiting to be waited on.

I leave, in search of –I don't know what. I go into room after room of bunk beds, many of them filled with couples lying together suggestively, no doubt having sex, but discreetly. Some are alone in these bunk beds, all occupied, all jammed close together. People are covered with blankets, yet I have a strong sense that something is going on underneath. I notice one couple: the young woman has long blond braids. I feel intrusive and uncomfortable, and I'm not finding whatever it is I'm looking for.

Interpretation: As the dream begins I look to numb myself: I want a drink even though I'm already tipsy. There's something I want to avoid. If there's a bar that prevents me from seeing what I need to see, there's also a bar to my numbing myself, and in this dream the literal bar is central to the action. Everything conspires to deprive me of my soporific—others press ahead of me, and the bartenders go off duty. As a parting shot they tell me I'm ridiculous (like the Otto Dix characters), and I have to admit they're right.

Having accepted their assessment of what I'm doing, I go in search of the thing I need. I discover people in intimate relationships—all jammed together. I realize that something is going on underneath (in my unconscious) that I've been unaware of. The dream hints that what I've missed, what's going on underneath, is a passionate wish for connection, symbolized here by sexual union.

The Missing Stroller

The Dream: I'm at a theatrical fund raiser. The event hasn't started. I've brought a friend's baby stroller as a donation. I had admired it, and she said she was going to get rid of it, so I offered to bring it to this worthy cause.

The event isn't well organized. I wander about trying to figure out who to give the stroller to. I decide to leave it near a downward spiraling ramp while I make some inquiries. I wonder if someone might run off with it, but reject the idea. Who would take a baby stroller?

Of course when I return, someone has. I am anxious, wondering how I'll explain this to my friend. I look everywhere, hoping the stroller will turn up. It doesn't, and I find out the organization wouldn't have accepted it in any case. Now my dilemma: am I obligated to buy my friend a new stroller? I don't want to, and I rationalize that she was going to junk it anyway—yet I feel replacing it is the right thing to do. I rehearse how I'll break the news to her, shortening the time of my absence, (“I turned my back for a moment and it was gone.”) and neglecting to mention I had entertained the possibility it might be stolen. (“I was shocked to find it gone.”) Despite these adjustments to reality, I can't get over feeling I should replace what I have lost.

Later this friend and I are at the fund raiser. In an inner sanctum the trope performs while we lounge like Romans in what looks like a city storefront. We're lined up perpendicular to the window on mattresses placed directly on the floor. I offer to replace the darn stroller, although I still don't feel I should have to. A big, heavy man is on my right; my friend on my left. At some point the man, about the size and girth of Doc Martin on TV, rolls over onto me in such a way that I fall off my mattress and am directly on the floor, with him partially on top of me. I complain, and he gives me a coupon to his restaurant and leaves. I study this list of freebies carefully, realizing that I can take someone with me--the coupon is a twofer.

Interpretation: This dream highlights a conflict between strolling around (taking it easy) and fulfilling my obligations. In the beginning I try to combine the two by donating my easy-going self (the stroller) to a good cause. In this misguided effort the easy-going self is taken away and, worse, I'm left with the moral dilemma of feeling I have to replace what wasn't wanted in the first place. I try to get around the problem by misrepresenting my responsibility for what happened, but that doesn't work either. When I finally face up to my responsibility by offering to replace what I've lost I'm ready to face one final challenge. A big, heavy (and grumpy—if he's anything like Doc Martin) man pushes me off the soft, comfortable spot (the mattress) and weighs me down. This man, situated to my right, symbolizes all the law and order, rules and must-do's that I've internalized. My complaint is a cry for freedom, and he responds by giving it to me (freebies). That the gift is a twofer tells me that not only can I (the responsible one) be nourished at his restaurant, but I can bring my inner stroller as well.

Running from Adam

The Dream: Clark and I, and Adam and his partner, are two teams of spies. Clark and I become suspicious of Adam and his “Operation,” and we want to get out of it. We try to flee undetected, but Adam soon figures out we’ve bailed and comes in pursuit. We are on the sidewalk, running from Adam, when Clark notices a Paramount Theater across the street, showing the Matrix. The theater is like the grand movie palaces of my youth. Clark says, “He thinks we’ll go see that movie.” In that case I think the theater is an excellent place to avoid, but to my surprise Clark leads me straight to it. “Why go here?!” I demand.

I don’t get an answer, but instead we wander into the dark bowels of the place, with its labyrinthine twists and turns beneath the main floor. Adam is in hot pursuit. At one turn we come to a market where artistic goods are sold. I admire some lovely glass pieces and try to decide which to buy. I am torn between a beautiful, very tall amber candlestick holder and a clear glass bowl with sparkly flecks.  I choose the bowl because the candlestick, while very lovely, has no practical use.  I don’t have room for something that is only decorative, but I can use the bowl to serve food to guests. I have something I am offering for sale at about the same price in this bazaar; I wonder if anyone will buy it. Adam is still after us; that anxiety looms over all.

Interpretation: Adam, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, is the first human who knows he will experience mortality. In this dream, my mortality is in hot pursuit. We duck into the Paramount (of greatest importance) Theater to confront this fact of life. The film that’s playing, The Matrix, symbolizes the intricate web of life on earth.

In the middle of this, a bazaar (yes, life is bizarre!) appears, and the dream ego is temporarily diverted by pondering a very basic question: Is art utterly useless, as Oscar Wilde tells us, or should it have a practical purpose? The deeper meaning here is my hope that my life (my art) will have a purpose. I’m hoping that the piece I buy (the things I've chosen to do) can, indeed, be used to nourish others. This can only happen if others buy (accept) what I have to offer. This remains a hope, not yet a psychic reality, since fear of death still looms.

Act

The Dream: A pale teenager with long straight blonde hair is in a theater production and is not happy with the way things are going. I tell her to say cheering things to herself and to pretend to enjoy it. I give her some examples, and I say, “You are an actress—Act!”

Interpretation: I feel that some aspect of my life has become a production, and I’m not happy about it. The dream points out that the part of me that isn’t handling the situation well is my inner teenager, and it suggests that I invoke some adult coping skills. One of these apparently is the “power of positive thinking.”

The Chinese Bride

The Dream: I’m in a foreign country, in a theater. A bell rings and we start to go to our seats. We see the locals, who are Chinese, scrambling and rushing. We realize that in this culture it’s considered rude if you are not seated when the bell rings.

Up from a trap door emerges a Chinese bride. She is wearing a white on white brocade outfit. The top part has the look of a traditional jacket with its small stand collar and covered buttons, but untraditionally has a high fitted waist and peplum. The skirt has a very long train. Later I wear this outfit.

Interpretation: A bride symbolizes a new life that is about to begin, and at the time of the dream I was about to begin showing art in a new gallery. I look at this experience from the outside, like a foreigner, and the social error I commit in the dream (not being in my seat when the bell rings) reflects my anxiety about my performance in this new venue. As the dream progresses my psyche begins to realize that I am the one who will be “on stage.” When I merge with the bride, I am accepting both the new adventure and some previously foreign aspect of myself.