Showing posts with label two-story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label two-story. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Taking In Something Valuable


The Dream: I’m at a large gathering, which goes on for days. I am looking at some beautiful old architectural drawings that someone threw out and someone else has retrieved. In the mix are lovely old pamphlets. I think these might be valuable and wonder how they would be priced by The Antiques Road Show. I am glad these things were rescued and surprised anyone would want to throw them away. The architectural drawings are of a beautiful old brick house, two stories.

The party goes on and on and I find I’m very tired. People take this as an indication that I don’t like them, and I try to explain. “No. I’m only tired. I’m an introvert and all this activity wears me out. I just want to go read a book.”

Interpretation: The old things that have been rescued tell me that I’ve made peace with my past, discovering things of value there that deserve appreciation. The old architecture (the person I was) has been retrieved. Once I’ve rediscovered these valuable but once rejected parts of myself I take them in (introvert) and look for some solitude in which I can study (read a book) the new things I’ve learned.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Studio for Sale


The Dream: An artist friend is selling her two-story studio. The unfinished downstairs smells musty, like a basement. Black construction paper lines some of the walls. The person moving in will use the larger of the two upstairs rooms for her painting. The smaller room, to the right as I look at them, will be for storage.

Interpretation:
The downstairs, evocative of a basement with its musty smell, tells me that I’m dealing with an issue that has basic, or primitive, overtones. The black paper evokes a dark cave, perhaps one with writing on its walls (paper is something we write on). That it’s construction paper hints something was built on this obscure foundation. This train of thought leads me to the Lascaux cave paintings. Here these French caves symbolize our species’ early commitment to art, and the dream deals with some sort of unconscious change in my relationship to the art I make.

The dream emphasizes duality: the studio has two stories; the upstairs has two rooms. One part of me is getting rid of her studio; another part who’s moving in seems to be elevating the work, taking it to a higher level (on the second floor) where she will paint in the larger room and store things in the smaller one. I hope the transformed artist will be nourished by the primitive energy from downstairs, and that she can synthesize that energy with the higher consciousness upstairs.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Express Yourself


The Dream: I have a new two-story house, unfurnished. An artist friend gives me a wooden table and a toilet stall. This is a self-contained toilet, like the ones you would find in a public restroom. The slightly curved floor and the walls are composed of wooden slats. I examine this fixture, thinking about cleaning it.

Interpretation:
I am on the way toward building a new understanding of who I am (the new house). The fact that the house has two stories tells me that I am attempting to integrate two different versions (stories) of myself that currently reside, at different levels, in my psyche. The house is unfurnished; this hints that I have the opportunity to go in a new direction. In other words, I’m not constrained by a previously set style.

My inner artist (the artist friend) immediately steps in to help. One of her gifts is a wooden table. Since tables are places where people come together for sustenance, she is trying to help me to integrate these varying, often inharmonious, aspects of myself. She also offers an unusual toilet. Toilets represent places where we can express ourselves—let things out—in privacy.  But instead of my using her gift in this way, I immediately think about the chore aspect of having a toilet: you have to keep it clean. My unconscious is pointing out that I miss out on some parts of life by being unwilling to accept the mess that's part of it, and--more to the point--part of me.