What's Cooking?

If you find your dream baffling, here's an idea. Ask questions. Make a list of the questions that your dream evokes, and let one lead to another. Then spend some time thinking about them. You'll learn something as you go through the process. Today's dream is an example.
The Dream: I have a little creature, supposedly a pig, but with the attributes of a toddler. It's very sweet and acquiescent, but is meant to be dinner. I have put her on a tray and am about to put her in the oven (alive). I get more and more upset at the thought, and finally I say to my husband, “I can't do it!” I am distraught, and he says it's okay not to cook the creature.

She turns into a little girl, and I tell her that I will take her home. In time it occurs to me that it might have been her own parents who sold her for food. In any case, she says she doesn't want to go home, she wants to stay with me. As time goes on she turns into a little horror and her sister appears. I don't remember what they did, but their behavior is so bad I begin to wish I'd put her into the oven after all.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by an article in The American Scholar about raising sentient beings (animals) for food. The cover featured a cute pink pig; the dream creature, before she turned into a little girl, was pink.

The odd thing about the dream is the creature's change from a sweet, passive acquiescent little thing to an impossible to control little monster. Are these the unacknowledged feelings I had toward my own children as they grew? Or is the horrid little girl my own willful “animal,” the force that I couldn't bear to have baked out of me, but have no idea what to do with? Or perhaps her behavior is a reaction to her position in society, a helpless girl at the mercy of others?

My conclusion from these questions? In the process of being “civilized” the little animal we are at birth (the child) reacts with uncontrollable bad behavior, inwardly if not outwardly: the beast in Beauty and the Beast: the not-yet-tamed outlier within. At this (rather late) stage of life I must acknowledge her. Once I do, she will sustain me; she'll become the "food" of a richer self.

What's Cooking?

The Dream: I'm at the stove. It's a gas stove with openings where some of the burners go. A toddler, a young boy, has stuck his head through one of these openings. His father, a Middle Eastern man, dark and hefty, is trying to pull him out. I take a softer approach, cajoling him, and he agrees to come out. Then I carry him around with me everywhere, feeling very maternal.

Interpretation: I'm in the kitchen, where raw ingredients are turned into food, symbolically a place of transformation. There could be something a little dangerous about the transformation about to take place, however: I might get burned. Something interesting that I'm strongly attached to (as a mother would be) is popping out, breaking through, in a surprising way. The powerful father, my inner forceful hefty man, seems foreign (Middle Eastern) to me. I don't think he will be the one to facilitate this new thing that is emerging, yet he, as the father, is clearly a part of it. It won't be forced, but will come out when it's ready, and then it will be an important part of my life (I'll carry it everywhere). The dream tells me to let things run their course.

Privacy

The Dream: Clark and his brother are little boys, toddlers. They demand that their privacy be respected.

Interpretation: Some small parts of myself feel intruded upon.

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.

Intruders

The Dream: I am returning home in the evening with the family. We are walking along the sidewalk to our townhouse that opens onto the street. As we approach our door I notice a window ajar. I point this out to the others, feeling clever that I have noticed. “I didn’t leave the window that way,” I say. I walk up a step or two and push the front door, which opens at my touch. In the dim interior light I see a young man scrambling into his clothes; we’ve apparently caught him in flagrante delicto: but what is the crime? Not really caring whether he is using my home for a sexual encounter, as it appears, or whether he’s come to steal, I am frightened and angry. “Call the cops,” he suggests. I am so frightened that I have trouble deciding which phone to use—cell or land line—and can’t find either. Somehow I manage to make the call, telling the cops a burglary is in progress. Then I wonder who else is in the house. There must be a girl, I think, since it seems we’ve caught the fellow having sex. “Did they use my bed?” I wonder, feeling grossed out.

Dead Babies in Boxes

Ever had an awful dream and wondered how truly disturbed you must be? Sometimes, when you stop and think about it, you realize its actual meaning is pretty mundane.

The Dream: Another dead baby dream. This time the “baby” was a little older, maybe a toddler. Three dead babies are in square boxes.

Interpretation: Many dream workers suggest that a “baby” is a new idea or project. Since this one is a toddler (2 to 3 years old) it must be a project I’ve had for a while. Since it’s “dead” it seems pretty clear that it isn’t going well. (I can think of a few projects in that category.) My dream tells me I’m feeling boxed in by these fruitless projects.