The Synthesis

When a dream character's behavior seems baffling, it's a good idea to look at the person and ask yourself what part of you they might represent. Often you'll discover they represent those parts you don't acknowledge.
The Dream: I am visiting my friend Janet. I have some children but they are in the background, not the focus of attention. Janet dislikes children, and I know it. I'm using her sink. I notice for the first time that it is a very tall pipe that drips into a bathtub. The water turns on and off via a pull chain. I am surprised to see, in her modernist apartment, that she has a bathtub in what was once a kitchen and that she now uses this space as her living room. When I see it I become nostalgic for an apartment I left long ago that had a tub in the kitchen. I notice that the center of the room has an island with gas and water hook-ups for a kitchen, exposed, with no attempt at aesthetics.

The room is airy and spacious, with a large sofa off to the side. I suggest to Janet that she make this large room back into a kitchen and use the one off to the right, the current kitchen, for her sitting room.

The children, now dogs, come running through and spit up on Janet's throw pillows. She thinks it's a big job to remove the pillow cases for laundering. I am surprised that she is making such a fuss over such a small job. I start to help her and do it quickly and easily, thinking that she has no house-wife skills. I feel superior that I do.

Interpretation: Janet, a very intellectual and independent friend, represents those parts of me. In waking life as in the dream she has no patience for the maternal. She can't manage the unpredictable, messy parts of life. With her as my proxy, I reject the instinctual (the dogs) and the not-yet-formed (children) parts of myself. In the dream I suggest she move her creative center, as symbolized by the kitchen, to a larger space, once that is both plumbed to do the job and has a comfortable place to rest (the sofa). My way to grow is to use the skills I'm so proud of in the dream to move my psychic home to a new contemporary space.

Growth

Dream Image: When placed in water a paper like shape expands at the bottom, leafing out.

Interpretation: The part of me that is dry and brittle (like paper), when immersed in the right environment, will expand and grow. The expansion doesn't come from the top (the intellect) but from the bottom (feelings and earthiness). The water represents the unconscious, and the dream tells me to be guided by this mysterious part of myself.

A Slippery Slope

The Dream: I'm at the top of a very large water slide, holding a razor in one hand. At the bottom of the slide is a mechanism that churns the water and will hurt me badly if I crash into it. I go down the slide cautiously, afraid to go too fast. Controlling my descent is hampered by the razor in my hand, leaving only one  free to grab the side of the slide. At the bottom Clark is milling around, and there is also a very strong man poised to help me. I make my way down with enough control to avoid a collision with the churning mechanism. At the bottom I take the man's kindly offered hand but don't rely on his strength. I'm aware that I've propelled myself out of danger by myself. Seeing him as I descended gave me the confidence to do what was necessary.

Interpretation: I go down a slide, something that should be carefree and fun, with great trepidation because I need to control the ride. Not controlling it is fraught with danger: I could run into rough water at the bottom. At the end, I have the satisfaction of rescuing myself; the strong man at the ready is not needed. He represents my core of inner strength; it's there, but I don't normally use it. My usual animus, represented by Clark, has been superseded by a stronger one that I was previously unaware of. This newly discovered part of myself keeps me safe from the churn, making it safe for me to deal with the murky depths of my scary unconscious. The dream tells me that knowing I have this inner strength will make it possible for me to start enjoying the ride.

The Difficulty of Approaching a Painting

The Dream: A painter, a gregarious, accomplished man, allows me to help him. First I watch. He is working with white paint only, a viscous oil. He puts his brush into a long and narrow trough, pulling the brush hairs along the edge again and again to adjust the amount of paint. He does this until I become impatient, thinking, “Get on with it!”

When he finishes applying the paint to the canvas, he has somehow managed to model a man's face and body; his strokes are perfect. I get to work on a similar piece that has been assigned to me and soon create flaws that I can't smooth out. I'm unable to mimic his perfection, try as I might. I get some paint in a spot it shouldn't be. I go for some water and a paper towel. Even though I am aware that water isn't a solvent for oil, I hope I can correct the defect before it's too set to remove.

Later there's an easel arrangement I'm expected to use that I don't understand. A platform is supported by four saw-horses near one end. At the other stands the painting. It appears balanced at the moment, but what will happen when I stand on the platform and approach the painting? Clearly the set-up has no stability.

Interpretation: I'm making some mistakes. As I face my own imperfections I try to solve (solvent) something with the wrong solution (water not turpentine). Getting closer to the problem (the painting) will throw me off-balance. The part of me that can handle it, the dream's competent male artist, has spent a very long time preparing, so long that I've lost patience with him. He works only with white, so might not see the black or gray tones (ambiguities) of the situation. Since the situation (set up) has no stability, it looks as if I'll have to address my difficulty, whether or not I'm ready.

Struggling Against the Current

The Dream: I'm in a small boat by myself on very rough water, but near a seaside resort. I work to get back to to this inviting shore, but am swept along the coast to a different spot. I look for a place to put the boat back in so I can try again. I think that a particular spot will work once I get past the breakers, but Clark points out the breakers are caused by submerged rocks. I see my plan won't work and walk along the shore, pulling my boat, looking for a safe place in put in, although I know even if I'm successful it will be very difficult, with the wind and current against me, to get back to the sunny shore.

Interpretation: The sunny shore represents a time of protected childhood with loving parents, a time when they were alive. The playful resort shore is a reminder of happy family times playing in the surf with my brother and mother nearby. I can 't go back; I'm struggling to get there but it's impossible. I'm also struggling against the tide of my own overwhelming emotions in the face of the reality of this loss, and the ultimate loss of all.

I face these feelings in the dream, and the practical part of me, my Animus in the form of Clark, discourages my attempt to return to the past by pointing out that it won't work. The dream tells me to accept the reality I can't change.

Something Fishy

The Dream: I'm with Clark near the water, along a city seafront. He is paying far too much attention to another woman who, it turns out, is a fish. I am jealous and show it.

Interpretation: Clark has been very involved in caring for his elderly mother. The rational part of me accepts that this is necessary, but the irrational unconscious? Not so much.

Wading Out of Being Stuck

The Dream: I'm on a train that isn't going anywhere, and I finally decide to get off. The train is stopped about 12 feet wide of the platform, and the gulf is filled with water. Clark has waded ashore: he has Wellies. I decide there's only one way to get there and begin to make the crossing, getting my trousers and shoes wet.

Interpretation: I'm going in a predetermined and unalterable direction (on a train) when I discover I'm not going anywhere. Since being on a train can represent my life's journey, the dream is telling me it's time for a change. In deciding to get off the train it's clear I'm ready to make the change, but I'm confronted with a difficulty: the train is not near the platform, and the space in between is filled with water. Water represents emotion, so for me to move on in my life's course I need to wade into some feelings that I've been avoiding. My animus, the part of me that forges forward in the world, has some protection in the form of Wellies—waterproof boots. But for the dream ego, my more vulnerable self, there's no other way except to plunge in and get my feet wet.

Guest Dreamer: Flushing the Blues

Today's guest dreamer is getting rid of the blues.
The Dream: I shove my blue jeans into a toilet--pressing them under the water. That's all there was to it! Nothing before and nothing afterward. I did feel shocked that this is what I was doing with my blue jeans.

Interpretation: If it were my dream: the toilet is a place of elimination. I am flushing (getting rid of) the blues (sadness). This sadness has been an integral part of me--it's in my genes (jeans). I have shoved this depressed part into a place in the unconscious (underwater) where it can be dealt with and eliminated. I'm surprised I could do this.

I've Stuck My Foot In

Dream Image: I see feet and legs, truncated below the knee, standing in a shallow, rocky stream bed. These partial limbs do not look gruesome in any way even though they represent things that have been thrown away. Water rushes by.

Interpretation: The rushing water represents my unconscious. A rocky road (the rocky stream bed) is a difficult part of my life journey. My feet, normally the part of my body that grounds me, have been detached and are now useless (trash, something that has been thrown away): I am attempting to throw away my difficulties. The dream warns me that I won't be a complete person unless I face them; they are part and parcel of the flow of life.

Which Hat to Wear?

Dreams are a good place to discover all the different hats you are able to wear.

The Dream: I’m in a fancy hotel with my cousin and others. I notice a square rising above our heads but not as far as the ceiling. On the top of this structure are all sorts of hats on old-fashioned hat stands. I realize that I myself had placed two or three hats on this structure.

A woman who works for the hotel, the person responsible for keeping us customers satisfied, has come into our suite. She asks if there is anything we need. I ask for some sparkling water, or, if that’s not available, still water. She scurries off to get it, and I wonder if I’ve done the wrong thing; we will probably be charged a lot for this water. I feel uncomfortable, but I decide even if we’re seriously over-charged it will be okay.

Interpretation: My life is rich with possibilities (the fancy place where I’m staying). The square shape represents my potential (in Jung’s terms, the Self) and the hats my possible personas (the different roles I might play). That both are over my head implies I’ve not yet attained either; both are beyond me.

The woman who asks what we need is what we call a guide in dream work: someone to assist or point the way. I ask her for water (a symbol of the unconscious), indicating I would like some of the things locked in my unconscious to become conscious. That I specifically ask for sparkling water shows that I expect access to this unconscious material to be enlightening. As soon as I make my request I regret it: I fear the price will be too high. Is life more easily lived in a state of unconsciousness? Do I really want to take that bite of the apple? In the end I decide the price might be high, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay (it will be okay).

The Sea

The Dream: I’m on a beautiful beach in Maui. The waves are delightful and the water temperature perfect. The scene switches and I’m in law enforcement, riding in a van looking for perps. I drive an old battered van, its front window shattered by a bullet, yet I’m full of confidence.

I want to go back to the beach. To get there I have to go through a door, as if the beach is in a room. It’s my last day on Maui, and I want to enjoy it. As I experience the lovely sea I think that now Clark will understand why I like the beaches on the East Coast—the water there is similar, warm and pleasant.

Interpretation: The conflict here seems pretty clear: my sensual pleasure-oriented part versus the rule-following enforcer. The relatively bad shape of the enforcer’s van, and the fact that the window (my point of view) has been shattered, hints that this part of me is losing ground, that in some way how I see things has changed.  And sure enough, I go back to the beach.

To get to the beach I go through a door, symbolizing a transformation and emphasizing that something has changed. I choose enjoyment and the renewal or rebirth that the sea represents. The reference to the East speaks metaphorically of an illumination—the sun rises in the east, the Wise Men came from the East, and so on.  The dream is telling me that not only have I changed, but that I will soon realize it.

Empathy in an Artifact

The Dream: I’m in a foreign country. A woman is digging in a sandy spot, with water puddling in the hole as she digs. The location is a city square. It isn’t green, with trees and grass, but more like a European town square with packed sandy earth.  At one point I hear that we are in Mesopotamia, and at another that we are in a Mediterranean country.

I watch the woman dig; her action seems inappropriate, considering how she is dressed and her age: she’s middle class and middle aged. I become excited and say, “When I lived in England I wrote a novel, and I got the idea for it doing what you’re doing: I was digging with my children.” 

Clark says, “You can often find artifacts.” He begins to dig in or near the woman’s spot and in short order extracts a circular clay piece with what appears to be a primitive god in the center. I wonder if we can keep this interesting object or whether we are legally required to turn it in. I want it.

Later we are sitting at a table, the three of us. Clark is to my right; the woman to my left. When Clark passes the artifact to me I plan to slip it into my carrier bag. He hands it to me, but rather than the clay sculpture it is a picture of the artifact on shiny photographic paper, with a list of the god’s attributes to the right. There are four, and the 3^rd one is “empathy.”

 “Empathy?” I think. “That’s an odd trait for a primitive god.”

Interpretation: Something is coming up from underneath. The puddling water tells me that unconscious material is coming to the surface. To start, let’s take a look at the geometric symbols in this dream: there’s the city “square,” the round clay artifact and the square table where we later sit. The square and the circle are both symbols of what Jung calls the Self, in other words, the combination my consciousness (what I’m aware of) and my unconscious (what I’m unaware of thinking or feeling). Dream are road maps, telling us where we are on the path to individuation, another Jungian term for the process of incorporating our unconscious material into our conscious awareness. 

The middle aged woman is me, digging into my dreams and bringing unconscious material to the surface. When I am joined by my husband Clark (my other half) and my children (the curious, experimental, engaged parts of myself) an artifact (a long-buried, but new to me, part of myself) quickly appears. This is something I want, even though I have some qualms about my right to have it.

Later, at the table (have the gifts from the unconscious been tabled?), I plot to steal the artifact. But I can’t do it. It turns into a representation of itself, becoming as ephemeral as the dream that engendered it.  But it does have a message for me, “Empathy.”

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.

Guest Dreamer: Goodbye Kiss

Our guest dreamer today is Hunky, whose father recently died.  She has asked me to interpret her dream. An important part of dream interpretation is that the dreamer is the final authority on the meaning of her dream. When I comment about her—or anyone’s—dream I am inevitably talking about what the dream would mean to me had I dreamt it. So I’ll discuss Hunky’s dream as if it were my dream.

The Dream: Dad lies on his bed, dead.  He is small and thin, half the size he used to be.  His skin stretches tightly over his forehead and cheekbones.  His gray hair is still course and thick.  His head tilts slightly backward and his mouth is wide open.

My brother Tom stands next to the bed and looks down at his father.  He goes to a faucet and turns it on.  He fills his mouth with water, swishes, then spits it out.  He fills his mouth again and walks back to Dad.  He leans down and puts his mouth on Dad’s mouth.  Tom is using his tongue to clean his father’s mouth.  He is thoroughly swabbing all surfaces of the inside of Dad’s mouth.  Then Tom sucks the foul water back into his own mouth, turns his back and spits it out.


Carla’s projection: In his lifetime my father was a difficult person. Now that he is gone I am reassessing the man who loomed so large in my psyche, and I see him differently. (He’s now half the size he used to be.) His death is not only literal, but also symbolic as his role in my life diminishes.

My brother Tom is an animus figure in this dream; in other words, he is the strong, active part of me. It is significant that I (in the guise of my brother) am the one that turns on the faucet, which represents the flow of emotions now under my control. As I take the water into my mouth I experience the full range of my feelings—love, hate, grief, release—I swish these all around and then I spit them out, signaling that I’m done with these.

Next I (through Tom) work to purify my father.  By cleaning father's mouth I wish to cleanse him of the words, actions, and non-actions that had caused much pain.  I cleanse him, and--like the Buddhists who breathe in evil and breathe out love and peace--I transform my father by taking his failings into my own mouth and spitting them out.  As I transform my father I transform myself: he becomes the father I want, I become the woman I want to be. I am free.


Hunky, the dreamer, says: Understanding my father’s severe personality disorder makes forgiveness easier.  I believe forgiveness is a part of the message.  Maybe one of these days I'll have a dream that acknowledges the positive ways he influenced me.

Guest Dreamer: Fall and Recovery

An anonymous dreamer has given us today’s dream and has generously provided the beautiful illustration as well. In her interpretation she highlights her experience of presenting this dream to her dream group.

The Dream: My sister and I are walking in an unfamiliar city.  As usual we are chatting; I’m not paying attention to where we are going.  Suddenly there is nothing under my feet; I have stepped over the edge.  I am falling from a very high place into the ocean.  The fall takes a long time.  The distance to the water is so great that I know unless I land perfectly straight into the water like a bullet, I will be killed or crippled when I hit the surface.  My heart is pounding as I fall through the air.  Next, I am treading water and looking around.  I look back at the cliff and the city.  I am far from land.  I see a pleasure boat in the distance but it’s too far away to help me.  I look back at the spot where I fell and realize I am a mile or two from it.  I look for my sister and finally spot her.  She's a tiny spec.  She is looking at the sea but her gaze is not anywhere near me.  Even so, I wave my arms and hope she will see me.  She doesn’t.  I start to swim back.  It is an easy swim and I know I will make it.  I have flippers on my feet and I glide swiftly through the water.

The Dreamer’s Interpretation: I took this to my Dream Group even though I was pretty sure the dream acknowledged a positive change, my survival of a very difficult time. In going over it with the group I realized that the dream not only acknowledged my survival in this particular situation, but told me that I have everything I need to take care of myself and to flourish.

As the members responded to the dream as if it were their own, they pointed out what the words and situation mean to them. Each person, of course, saw the dream a little differently. One suggested I ponder what the word “city” means to me. I hadn’t thought about that before, but when I did I realized that for me it represents an exciting place where endless inspiration and creative activities intermingle and communicate. For a while, having been on edge due to an upheaval with an elderly parent, I had dropped away from “the city.”

 Another member pointed out that in the dream my sister is the part of me that doesn’t always recognize my own capability (She doesn’t see me). And it’s true that at times in waking life my insecurities do cripple me.  Someone else showed me that the dream says I have everything I need (those flippers that magically appear) to face tough times and that I can glide well through life (the sea) and easily get to where I want to go (it’s an easy swim and I know I will make it).

I have found dream work to be tremendously beneficial.  Thank you, Carla, for producing The Daily Dreamer.  There is always something new for me to learn.

Carla: Thank you so much for sharing your dream and art, and for pointing out the joy and value of being a member of a dream group. There's one more image I'd like the dreamer to think about: the pleasure boat in the distance. Another word for boat is craft. In what way does the dreamer's pleasure in her craft (making art) come in to play here? At the moment it's too far away to be helpful, but we know that boats can move, and I bet it's about to come closer.

For more information about dream groups see About Dream Groups.

No Compensation

An elderly relative, Aunt Peggy, has dementia and must go to a nursing home.  Making the arrangements and clearing out her house was left to my husband Clark and me. I had this dream in the middle of that difficult chore.

The Dream: Aunt Peggy’s house is almost empty, but not quite. There are a few pieces of paper lying about and one piece of furniture, a bed. As I stand near it, a cat rubs against my legs. I wonder how it got in, and if it is making the room smelly. I want Aunt Peggy’s washer and dryer, both so new they are still in their boxes. I think that having these will make up for all the disruption she has caused.

Aunt Peggy appears. She has been pronounced cured and let out of the care facility. She has decided to hook up her new washer and dryer. She and some installers unbox the pieces and work on hooking up the water. I wonder what she must think about her house having been cleared out. She seems rational and capable.

Baby Under Water

As you work on your dreams, you may become aware of recurring themes that reflect your psychic progress.

The Dream: A baby is in a pool, face up under the water. It takes me a while to realize that she is having a problem: I am distracted; my attention is not on her. I’m reading the newspaper. When I perceive the danger she is in I rescue her, managing to resuscitate her. This happens again, only I’m not sure I am able to breathe life into her tiny body this time. I hold her nose and breathe into her mouth. At one point I think perhaps I see her eyes flutter. I am afraid she’s dead.

Interpretation: After the rapprochement of my warring aspects in Ménage a Trois, the dead and dumped baby of Death of the Attached Baby reappears: still in danger, but alive. The newspaper I read here (am I too concerned with worldly matters?) echoes the newspaper the baby was wrapped in before being unceremoniously thrown into the garbage. My attempts to revive the baby (my authentic artist self) are tenuous and not completely successful, but there is some small hope I have managed to breathe life into her.

Shifting

The Dream: A bridge. I am aware of part of it, which looks like part of a square. It has a rail on one side and is open on the other, and there is dark gray water underneath, far below. I’m afraid when I look down on the unprotected side, so I avert my eyes in order to have the courage to proceed. I am with a small group; we are filing across. We only see the section of the bridge I’ve illustrated.

Interpretation: Jeremy Taylor says that a bridge in a dream represents the difficult but doable task of living with unresolved paradox. The greatest paradox we live with is the knowledge that being (life) is bounded by non-being (death). I see this dream as part of a series building upon the last two dreams: here I explore what really frightens me about ill health: its logical conclusion, i.e., death. I am crossing this bridge – or working on my understanding of this irresolvable dilemma -- but even so I am not quite ready to see it: I avert my eyes, in order to have the courage to proceed.

The part of the bridge that I see makes three sides of a square. For Jung, a square or circle signified a complete person, one who has attained consciousness by integrating unconscious material. My square is clearly not complete.

City of Brotherly Love

The transformation that started with the dream of the mouse lady has progressed, as this dream shows. That it isn’t complete will become obvious with the dream I'll post next time.

The Dream: Clark and I have jumped from the back deck of an airplane, where we were guided by a flight attendant. She waves from the deck as we parachute down into Pennsylvania, our arms linked. I’m nervous, but not terrified, and Clark is calm and confident. I get a new worry: what if we land in a lake? Clark says this is a possibility, since there are a lot of rivers, lakes and steams in the state.

We land safely and are enthusiastically welcomed by the locals. We’ve landed in a rural-looking area, but I understand that it is part of Philadelphia.

Interpretation: Myths often have guides--fairy godmothers or goddesses like Athena--that help the hero attain the prize. In this dream, the flight attendant guides me and my other half (Clark) to the spot for the necessary action: learning that jumping in with both feet can be the right thing to do. No mouse lady here, despite my worry about an immersion into the unconscious “state” (Pennsylvania’s water). As we land safely there are accolades from the locals, telling me that I’ve achieved something my inner selves applaud. There is a rapprochement between me and my other half (Jung calls him my animus) signaled by our landing in the City of Brother Love.

A Hole in the Wood

Your unconscious is a clever wordsmith. If you pay close attention to the words in your dream it will help you figure out what your "inner you" is trying to say.
 
The Dream: There is an opening in a large piece of wood that’s part of a house. The shape of the hole is like a knothole that has fallen out, but it feels more like the wood has separated leaving a gaping hole. I go away, perhaps to find help, and when I return the hole has filled with water. I am very alarmed and holler for Clark. Later, with Mother’s assistance, I am making repairs to a house that needs them.

Interpretation: There’s an interesting play on words here. A hole (whole) and a knot hole (not whole). My house, which represents me, has opened--which is a good thing if we think in terms of someone opening up as opposed to being closed or shutting down. However, it’s clear I’m not comfortable with this; that the hole is filled with water tells me the alarming opening probably has to do with my emotions coming to the fore. I get help from my other half (Clark), and then I can begin to make myself whole (repair the house). Since Mother assists me, the painful emotions being healed probably relate to my grief at her death.