No Light at the End of the Tunnel

The Dream: Dettie and I are at the underground entrance to a NYC subway. She has a token and goes through the turnstile and down the escalator to the platform. I realize I have no money. I set down my large purse, at the same time noticing a lost-and-found-box containing cash and other items that people have left on the train, open to all with no oversight. I think, after a little ethical quavering, that it's probably okay if I “borrow” some of the money to buy a token. I feel a little guilty, but climb up to the box—it's a bit of a stretch—and help myself to a small amount of cash. In some part of my mind I am surprised that the money hasn't all disappeared.

I take the money to the ticket booths; the one to the left is closed, and the agent in the middle booth ignores me. I'm getting anxious about finding Dettie with all this delay. Then I notice an available agent to the right: I had 't been aware of him. He is a very affable black man and while I don't have enough money for a return, he sells me a one-way token.

As I approach the turnstile I realize my bag is missing. I feel very uneasy about this, thinking about my credit cards and how I should have made a list of them. I try to remember which membership cards were in my purse. This will be a mess to sort out; I hope Clark can help me.

I descend the escalator and my surroundings become darker and darker. When I reach the platform I look for Dettie, but she's nowhere to be seen. I had been counting on her to loan me money for the return trip. The platform is deserted, very dark, and no trains appear to be running. After a while I decide to try a different level, thinking I must be on the wrong track. I turn to go, and things become even darker until it's pitch black. I become frightened and decide to go back up.

I climb a long flight of stairs. At the top is a closed door with a window. The door is locked. I bang and bang on it, yelling “Help!” until I'm afraid my voice will go. A man appears—I see his face silhouetted against the door's window. He has a mustache and looks creepy, like something out of a surrealist's work. I think that if he opens the door it will be to rape me, not to help. I awaken in terror.

Interpretation: Jung warns us that encountering the unconscious is a fearsome project, and this dream verifies it. My friend's name is the key to this dream: “Dettie” evokes both death and debt. As I begin my descent into the underworld of the unconscious I grapple with feeling inadequate: I have no money (worth), but I might be able to retrieve some if I'm willing to take a chance and reach higher. It's interesting that I have an ethical difficulty in giving myself what I need: I don't feel entitled to take it. But even when I do my problems are not over. I have enough money to embark on my journey, but not enough to return. I lose my purse with its membership and credit cards (I'm totally alone; I'll get no credit in the future). I call on my animus to save the situation, but the male figure who appears is another threat, not a savior. I go lower and lower, facing my darkest fears: my vulnerability, my worthlessness and my mortality. My vision is so narrow (tunnel like) that I can't see a way out.

Naked at Walgreen’s

Jung tells us we can never bring all our unconscious material to consciousness. With dreams, it’s two steps forward, one step back.

The Dream: I’m going to Walgreen’s. There are showers at the back of the store to the right. I sit on the curb in front of the store and begin to remove my clothes in anticipation of showering. I begin to feel self-conscious and wonder why I didn’t wait until I got to the shower area to disrobe. I go into the store, which has turnstiles near the entrance, hoping no one will notice my nakedness.

Interpretation: Something significant to my psyche is on the cusp on consciousness, but doesn’t quite make it. What about this dream makes me think so? First, the name of the store: Walgreen’s. A wall is some sort of block or impediment. But this wall is green anticipating growth, or a breakthrough. This is emphasized by the showers (water indicates the unconscious) at the back (something from the past) but also to the right (hinting that this material may become conscious). A store, of course, is a place where we keep things, like a storehouse. I’m so ready for this immersion into previously unaccepted material that I throw off my clothes, and immediately regret it.

Self-consciousness intervenes. Jung’s term for the complete person, one who has integrated her unconscious material, is the Self. Self-consciousness here is one of those entertaining little paradoxes dreams throw at us: being conscious of myself prevents me from developing my Self.  I do get past a barrier (the turnstile) but I’m too concerned with my vulnerability (nakedness) to progress further — at least not in this dream.