I'm Not in the Picture

Sure enough, Janet's last dream was followed by another focused on identity—or, this time, its lack.
The Dream:I'm in an art school. A young man has been selected to do a nude portrait, and I have been selected to be his model. We work in a large urban studio. I am not embarrassed about posing nude; I wear only a pair of 50s style pointed-rim glasses that are very striking in black.

The next morning, before the painter gets to the studio, I decide to check out his progress. He has painted in the cityscape behind me in a purposely crude, modernist style, and one awkward tree is depicted. The colors are strong and unnatural. I am nowhere to be seen.

Janet's Interpretation: Looking at this dream from the point of view of identity helped me to unravel its meaning. My partner convinced me to move from a large urban area to his small hometown in the Mid-West. I hadn't realized what a struggle that would be. I feel friendless and alone; without the anchors of my friends and job I am not sure who I am anymore. The world I was a part of is going on without me, so I guess it's true that I'm not in the picture! I hope that the little bit of greenery that the tree provides is pointing to some new growth that will help me with this transition.


Carla: The black-rimmed glasses might be trying to make a point! Perhaps you are seeing things as darker (bleaker) than they are. New growth is often awkward, but your dream has come to tell you that you can do it.

D is for Dreams

Here's a little project for those of you who keep a dream journal: make a frontispiece. It's another way to explore your own inner reality. Here's how to go about it.

• First is the planning stage, although it's pretty minimal here because the aim of this project is to let unconscious ideas come forth, rather than to impose our conscious ideas. So the plan has only two components. 1) We define the format: square, round, rectangular—whatever shape appeals. 2) And then we put something into that space, filling most of it. In the example here, I used the letter D, for dreams, but it's important for you to use whatever appeals to you: it could be the shape of a firetruck, a stone, a pool--whatever.
   
• Now play with the object you have put into the space, seeing what it suggests to you. As I played with the letter D a cave emerged, then a couple of creatures I thought of as threshold guardians. Once your concept comes together for you, play with your favorite rendering technique or, even better, try out something new.

Congratulations! You've produced a work that has come straight out of your unconscious, just like a dream. You can take the project a little further by writing a sentence or two about your creation. Here's what I said about mine.

The scary things, partially dead and buried, that emerge from the Unconscious are the source of new life, health, and healing of the spirit.

Pushed into a Pit

Your dream will give you some clues about the origin of the issue it deals with. Can you spot what they are in this dream?
The Dream: A difficult aunt who I remember well from my childhood is in charge of two little girls. I expect that when I find them the girls will be crying, since that the effect Aunt A usually had on people. But no, they seem fine.

I'm at a snobby art event in a magnificent old museum. Several pieces of art that I own, and one or two that I painted, are hung in a very long gallery where a crowd is lined up to enter. Inside, the elaborately carved wooden steps and walls make the exhibit look like a medieval recreation.

I hear some admiration aimed in my direction but am disappointed to realize it's directed toward the pieces I own, not the ones I created. As we wind our way around the attractive labyrinth, a woman gets into an altercation with another and pushes her down, off the steps, into a side pit.

Interpretation: The dream tells me that my issue is rooted way back in childhood with several clues. Not only are there some little girls, there are two of them. There are also two kinds of my art on display: one or two (two yet again) that I painted and some that I own. Two women have an altercation. So this issue probably first surfaced during the pre-verbal part of my life, around the time I was two years old.

The medieval decor puts the issue in the distant past (of my life), and the carved wood evokes a pattern being imposed on a malleable surface. The dream dwells on images—paintings--because the child's self-image is being created at this time.

Aunt A was a childhood difficulty, but probably not the cause of this issue since the two little girls are okay with her. So perhaps some of her traits, shared by my parents, are the core of the problem. Both parents had very high expectations—and of course that is a good thing, overall, but I might have gotten the impression at an early age that I would not be able to achieve what they expected. The self I was in the process of creating (in the dream the images I painted) was not what was liked. What was liked were the images I had bought (the imposed persona).

I wander through this labyrinth of created and imposed selves, the various “pieces” of myself, thinking I'm in an attractive place until an abrupt altercation changes the mood. One “self” pushes another into a pit. One of the selves has been pushed aside. I wonder which one?

Two Different Sides

The Dream: One boob is cute and perky; the other larger, saggy and floppy.

Interpretation: This reflects the two sides of my artistic life (the thing that nurtures me). One side is controlled and attractive; the other is not so acceptable and well-behaved. Yet the two are part of the same body (of work). This image represents a conjunctio or coming together, in the psyche, of two opposing inner forces.

The Inferior Function

The Dream: A young man, an aspiring artist, is friends with an older woman. I want to be part of their group but am concerned that I might be intruding, and I do get a bit of the cold shoulder. Nevertheless, the young man and I engage in a serious chat about art. I am aware that he wants to take courses at the Art Students League. I go off in several directions with this information. I tell him that every artist must teach himself, ultimately, and not rely on the judgments or opinions of others. Each must develop a personal style, unique to herself. “For example,” I say, “when you see a Picasso you know it is a Picasso.” He mentions the many changes in style as Picasso evolved. “Yes,” I say, “because art is the working out of our inner selves, and as we change the art changes.” The conversation gets heated since he wants to pursue study, and he feels I'm negating that choice. But I'm not—at least not entirely. “It's important to study to develop the necessary skills,” I say. “If it hadn't been for Anthony Palumbo at the Art Students League I would never have learned to draw.”

I get back to the idea of art as a reflection of the artist's deepest self. I say, “My work, for example, is pretty and superficial, just like me.” A pause. “Well, I might not be pretty anymore, but I'm still superficial.” After this tongue-in-cheek statement a cloud descends on my spirit. I become aware that, while I might appear self-confident and even tough, I actually feel inferior. The outward aspect is a defensive shell.

Interpretation: This seems to be one of those dreams that interprets itself. It tells me to look at my vulnerabilities if I want to discover my true self. Pretty and superficial can only take a person so far.

Guest Dreamer: Solo Visit

Hunky's dream is about art, which symbolizes her most authentic self.

Hunky's Dream: I’m walking along San Pablo, near Ashby, in Oakland, heading north. There is an obvious entrance way I am curious about, so I enter. In a short distance I am underground. Is this an underground shopping center? I keep walking.

I’m now in a space as big as a football field. Throughout the space are areas where artists work. There are no separations between them--no walls, just spaces that flow into each other but reflect the uniqueness of each artist/craftsman. Sparsely located throughout the space is contemporary-looking work--some pieces small, some pieces large, all of them hold my attention and appreciation. I like being in this open space. I am particularly taken with a large, circular wood construction that the artist uses to produce his work. It is a beautiful piece of sculpture in itself. I’m impressed with the overall beauty of the place I’m in. It’s quiet in here. It’s a little odd that there are no artists in sight but this doesn’t bother me. To be social would interfere with the visual experience I am enjoying.

I walk up an organically shaped ramp to get to the outdoors. There are no right angles on the ramp, all soft curves. I look closely at the surface I am walking on barefoot. Embedded in the ramp material are tiny pieces of metal, copper and silver. They poke at the soles of my feet, but they do not hurt me.

On the rooftop the surface is covered with a material as dark as asphalt. The material must be as soft as sandstone, though, because all of it has been altered in some way. What I’m walking on has been altered by means of scraping away or building up. An undulating attractive surface was created.

A woman (about 60) greets me and offers to show me around. She is the only person I’ve seen since entering from the street. We visit artist’s areas. As it was when I was in the basement, the artists are not here either. At one place, an artist has created unique pieces of furniture, all of which has an animal as part of it. I see a wooden chair with a life-sized cat carved as part of the arm of the chair. The cat is the arm of the chair but it is definitely a cat as well. On the arm of a sofa is a soft animal form made of the same material as the rest of the sofa. These animals are cleverly integrated as part of the furniture. All the animal forms are compatible with, or the same materials as the furniture.

The woman tells me she is an artist but works here for other artists. I notice she is standing on the edge of the surface here on the rooftop. She is standing on the balls of her feet, like a diver who is preparing to do a back dive.

Then she shows me a large unfinished part of a connected rooftop area and tells me that her boss (an artist) wants to expand his area there. I mention that it must be strong to handle the weight. She says it is.

We approach this person who is her boss. He and she exchange pleasantries. Then the woman asks him if she can use his toilet. He doesn’t seem to be willing to allow it. I figure it must be a tricky and difficult task to install plumbing on this rooftop that has such a surface such as this one. But he tells her she can use the toilet.

As I wait, I hear the sounds of expulsion. I’m not embarrassed. The sounds are loud and powerful.

Carla's Thoughts: As usual, I will respond to Hunky's dream as if it were my own; I invite her to add to our understanding of her dream by leaving us her thoughts as well.

My natural curiosity, something I associate with my playful, creative inner child, has led me to an entrance to the underground (my unconscious). That I at first think I might be encountering a shopping center tells me that this area contains things I might buy (accept), or—by the same token—that I might not. But I pass by this initial response, and, as I do, the space opens up. In fact it becomes huge. Here I am given a vision of my artistic possibilities (my potential). I see no artists here because all of them are me, and we never see ourselves. The contemporary work symbolizes the things my psyche is currently working on. The circular construction represents the many facets of myself working together; this construction is me. In a place of beauty and serenity I am at peace with, and can appreciate, who I am.

As I walk up a ramp (go to a higher level by bringing some of this material into consciousness) my world becomes even more expansive: I am outdoors. This is a natural place, both because it is outdoors and because there are no sharp angles. My soul (sole) is poked, prodded, but this is not painful. On the rooftop I encounter a material that represents my life experiences, some dark, but all altered by the sculpting, the scraping and building up, of things I've done. I appreciate my life; it's an undulating (moving, changing like a river) and attractive achievement.

Then I encounter my anima (the 60 year old woman). She shows me forms (the animal / furniture combinations) that point me to the realization that I can be relaxed (as if on a sofa) with my physical self (the animal). Yes, we are physical beings and subject to all the woes of the flesh, including our own deaths, but my soul tells me I will find my own way of putting these apparently opposing forces, the animate and the inanimate, together in a way that will be comfortable. This part of me is on dangerous ground, standing on edge, maybe about to go over—but she doesn't. She shows me the unfinished business I have yet to complete, and she assures me that I can handle it, heavy though the task may be.

The boss, a controlling part of myself that is very demanding and wants to expand his domain, reluctantly allows my soul to express herself. She does so with gusto, and I affirm her action.

Mother Has Departed

The Dream: I am teaching an art class. I've forgotten my lesson plan and need to go home to get it. I give the students some warm up exercises, mostly to keep them busy while I'm gone, but as I demonstrate I think, “That's a good idea.” I'm surprised at myself, and pleased, that I handled this situation so well; in other words, my missing plan didn't throw me.

When I return the class has changed from an art class to a dream class. I lecture on dreams, telling the group to beware of charlatans who claim to tell them what their dreams mean. I am challenged by someone in the class: “You interpret your dreams on a blog; but dreams can have more than one interpretation.” I agree, saying, “I never meant to imply that dreams have only one meaning.” A dream presents itself to me, as only a title: Mother Has Departed.

Interpretation: Do I dare to attempt an interpretation after this? I'll soldier on . . . . I have a new sense of competency. I can survive the challenge represented by being imperfectly prepared. I teach, but I also learn. The world of art and dreams overlap. My inner scolding mother has departed, and I find I can carry on very well in her absence.

Undercover Agents of Change

Art in dreams can stand for the process of self-discovery, and this dream points out how difficult that process can be.

The Dream: I have just killed someone, possibly because I didn't like her artwork. I see a large wooden palette with colors laid out; soft shades of blue green. I feel either superior or inferior to this artist: in any case her artwork makes me uncomfortable. I say “her” but it isn't completely clear now whether the artist is male or female. I kill him / her.

Then I discover the murder is justified because I'm a government agent, working underground, and this murder was part of my job. A woman and I are in it together, part of the fight against another regime. Suddenly I'm naked, and the two of us must hide or our mission will be discovered---or perhaps it already has been—and we'll be killed. We have some friends, part of the underground network, who are willing to hide us. First we're hidden under a large pile of fabric—under cover indeed! I'm wondering if the enemy will be able to discover us here. Then I hide alone, in a barn-like space, with bails of hay and an old car. It's very dark and again, I'm not sure I won't be discovered.

Interpretation: In this dream, killing the person whose art I don't like refers to a strong rejection of something that I am unconsciously trying to express. The blue green color hints that whatever it is makes me sad (blue), but also holds the key to my growth (green). The fact that I am working “underground” emphasizes that the conflict is unconscious. That I discover myself to be a government agent tells me that the conscious ego has been selected to dispatch the difficulty, but as the dream progresses it becomes clear that it can't. Just as I am the murderer I am also the victim: as soon as I kill the not-yet-integrated artist I become prey; it's as if I have supplanted the murdered artist. My conflict looms close to consciousness, and reinforcements in the form of a helper appear. I discover the issue is close to being exposed (I am naked). I try to hide from the very uncomfortable realization that's emerging  by going underground, undercover, yet again. At the end of the dream I'm still in the dark, the necessary integration has not occurred.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams

The Dream: I am copying a masterful piece of art. At first I find it very tedious, and then I discover how much I'm learning by my attempt at replication.

Interpretation: This particular dream is a teaching dream: it's telling me that one important way we learn is through imitation. How far does that sort of learning go back? The dream was inspired by watching Cave of Forgotten Dreams last night, which explores a French cave discovered in the 90s that was filled with paintings 30,000 to 40,000 years old.

The Scowler

The Dream: I'm in the backseat of a car. There's a very cute little boy sitting there as well. His mother doesn't have a child's safety seat for him so I wonder if I should hold him. There's also a little girl I hadn't noticed who, as I'm thinking about the boy, says, “Everyone thinks he's cute.” She protectively hands the boy forward to his mother.

Now that I've noticed the girl I take a better look at her. She's very unattractive: overweight, very white skin, hair pulled back tightly from a scowling face. She has short little bangs and is wearing a little princess tiara on her head. I suddenly realize that this unappealing little girl needs some attention. I ask to see her artwork. She brightens up and shows me what looks like some well done contour drawings. As I praise her she warms up and relaxes, telling me that she needs to “loosen up.” I think she's loose enough already.

Interpretation: As the dream begins it's clear I'm not in the driver's seat with whatever is going on right now. (I'm in the backseat.) One small part of me—the acceptable “cute” part—has been handed over to mother. This good child part belongs to her; in other words, he does what mother requires. Another part is not so attractive:she scowls and wants to rule (she wears a crown). But if I can recognize her for who she is and what she does (admire her work) she will be able to relax. When she says she wants to loosen up she is telling me that she wants to let go of her tendency to control things in ways that make her (me) tense. That I've recognized her in this dream enables this to happen: she's “loose enough already.”

I Don't Get It; Or Do I?

The Dream: I'm in my studio. A woman, a teacher, comes in. She is youngish, about 35 to 40, slim, blonde, curly hair. She is an attractive woman but seems middle-of-the-road, not too interesting. Yet she gets to make decisions about whose art is seen.

She lets me know that my art has been under consideration for some time. “On the one hand, you get it,” she says. “On the other, you don't.” I try to figure out what she means by this enigmatic statement. She lets me know that the judges were somewhat encouraged when I did a piece that seemed to support the police. Unlike, she said, most of my work. I am confused. I have nothing against the police. She lets me know that they consider my skill level impressive but don't care for my subject matter. In a way I'm encouraged by this: she and the “panel” seem so much a part of the mediocre herd that I think it's probably a good sign if they don't care for what I do. I think the day will come when my work will be appreciated. In a way I'm relieved that it is unusual enough to cause these “judges” difficulty.

Interpretation: Was this dream the result of going to a quilt show and perhaps feeling at an unconscious level that the work was beautifully executed but lacking in a higher purpose? Is this what I think, or fear, about my own work? There is certainly a parallel between quilting and my egg tempera painting—both require meticulous attention to craft. The police metaphor refers to the self discipline that this sort of work requires, and it seems the dream underlines some not too surprising ambivalence toward it. In the end I accept, even welcome, the place where I am.

The Artist Within

One of the most difficult things artists do is to represent conflicting aspects of life simultaneously.
The Dream: I am at Hunky's house, but it doesn't look like her waking life house. It's one story with lots of off-shoots. Art is everywhere. Looking through the window I can see an outside wall, at an angle to the room I'm in, hung with primitive masks of heads painted in earth colors.

There is a very large studio in the back where Hunky is working. I comment on how much I like the way the art is displayed along the outside wall, and she tells me that her son has made the masks. They are hung as if no thought were given to their arrangement or spacing and yet . . . there has been. It's very sophisticated. Hunky says this is where her son hangs his work to dry as he churns it out; it's not a planned arrangement of paintings as in a gallery.

Hunky talks about her process: she puts down shapes and color and then responds to them. She works abstractly; her art is unplanned. She loses herself in the process. I think this must be enjoyable and that I'll have to try it, but then remind myself of the pig's breakfast I get whenever I attempt to work this way.

As Hunky talks about her work she shows me a piece she is starting. It has a large tear-drop shape in red lined with blue on the left side of the paper. Hunky will start with this and then move on. As she talks about her work she begins to look like an obsessed artist: her hair becomes messy, her clothes paint-stained. Clearly the only thing that exists for her is the moment of creation. I contrast this with my meticulous rendering in egg tempera, concluding I must be a lesser artist. Hunky talks about her two lives, or roles: one as a suburban matron responsible for creating a certain sort of living space for the family, and the other as a committed artist. As she talks I see Hunky split into two people, although I realize this isn't possible. Both are working at their very different jobs. One is tidy and organized and on top of the housewife job; the other is messy and focused completely on the art she's creating.

As I awakened I was dreaming about putting a wax finish on Pomona. The top of the painting had a pattern of water, and as I waxed it part of this pattern began to dissolve. I liked the softer effect but I didn't want it to dissolve to the point that it no longer existed.

Interpretation: Hunky's house (my house, where I live) is one story with lots of off-shoots. In other words, my life has a consistent theme that has been expressed in many different ways. Art is everywhere; that tells me it is the ground that nurtures the off-shoots. The primitive masks in earth colors reinforce the idea of art as something primal for me.

While Hunky's (my) studio is very large (the work takes up a lot of my psychic space), it has been relegated to the back of the building. Its location hints that, while the activity may be primal, its status is not. Although I like the work, not only has it been hung outside, with no thought given to its display, but another stand-in artist has appeared: Hunky's son. My inner artist is twice removed.

After showing me how I denigrate what I do, the dream goes on to show me what this inner artist (if not the waking life one) is capable of. First of all, the son artist churns out the work. Apparently he's so creative he doesn't have to give it a thought. Then he hangs it up any old way, and it looks marvelous. His mother tells me about how she works with total absorption.

As Hunky demonstrates her artistic fervor, a basic dilemma emerges, presaged by the teardrop in her painting. The problem? One most women face: how to balance life and work. The conflict is so strong that she (I) splits into two separate people. And then it becomes apparent that the dream has been talking about polarities from the start. Inside, outside; planning, spontaneity; thought, passion; tidy, messy. How do I reconcile these opposites?

The dream tells me to live with them. The pattern might begin to dissolve, and it will look better for it. But the structure will still be visible, only softened (more integrated).

The Dream Journal

Figuring out who’s who is this dream’s puzzle.
The Dream: Mary tells me her friend is interested in dreams and shows me her dream journal. When I see it I feel inadequate. The woman has illustrated every scene of a dream that goes on for seven pages. The illustrations are creative and clever. She has made an illustration of little iced cookies in the shape of animals that represents Mary: Mary doesn’t care for it; she thinks it’s “too sweet,” but I think it’s charming. The illustrations are colorful, playful, and chic at the same time.

Interpretation: The Mary in this dream is a waking life friend. I am the only friend she has who keeps a dream journal. So—does this make me the friend whose dream journal she is showing me? Is she, in fact, showing me my own dream journal? And if she is, why do I feel inadequate when I see it? This leads to the next identity puzzle: is Mary actually Mary, or is she standing in for someone else? As an old friend she stands in for someone from my past. Who, I have to ask myself, in my past reacted to my work in a judgmental way? This leads me to the inevitable conclusion that the Mary in my dream stands in for my inner “mother.” The seven pages and the iced cookies hint at the era the dream evokes: when I was seven years old. A hopeful sign: I stand up for myself, disagreeing with Mary’s (mother’s) assessment of my artwork.

Running Uphill

The Dream: I’m going up a steep sidewalk, competing to be the first up the hill. I expect to be winded and out-competed, but to my surprise I finish first. Then I work on a large piece of art. It has a gold background that I fill in with a viscous gold. The foreground is not yet developed.

Interpretation: After having this dream I experienced one of Jung’s synchronicities: I had been reading The Red Book, and on the morning after the dream I came across the passage (page 242, fn 115) in which Jung ascends a steep hill, dragging his slower wife. In his case he had just killed the hero. In my case I prevailed in ways I didn’t expect and so attained some measure of metaphorical gold (insight).  While the gold remains in the background (unconscious), I can take heart from the fact that I’m working on it.

No Longer on a Higher Plane

Many dreams are about work. Whatever field you're in, chances are you face some conflicts. This dream is a good example of the way the unconscious identifies and attempts to resolve the issues.

The Dream: I am in an airplane going to Australia. There are very few people on the flight, and I’m surprised the effort has not been abandoned. The plane is huge, which emphasizes how few flyers there are. Clark and I sit about one quarter of the way back from a partition dividing the sections, and the other passengers are way back, about one quarter from the rear of the plane. The plane does not exactly take off, but flies very low through a city space like NYC. I wonder if we will ever gain a plane-like elevation. We cross bridges and fly/taxi along for miles and miles.

Then we are airborne, en route, and this is when I wonder about the practicality of this flight that has so few passengers. I discover I’ve neglected to pack my art supplies and feel a sense of loss at having forgotten something important. I think I could buy some in Australia, and at the same time I think I might like a vacation—no art making for a week or so. A rest might do me good.

Now I’m in an advertising office, or some sort of commercial art studio. The artists are busily painting at large easels. I don’t particularly care for what they are producing, but I find their process--the way they are producing it—exciting, and I want to try. It looks like fun! I want to play with their toys. I see a painting to the left instantly transform, coming together in a way that didn’t at first seem possible. I see a large painting with Michael Jackson in the foreground and the 3 Supremes behind him. It’s done in a pointillist style. I think I’ve done the same painting, only in mine Michael Jackson was naked.

Interpretation: This dream reveals my feelings about my work as an artist / illustrator. I start off on a lower level, and I stay there for so long that it doesn’t seem possible I’ll be elevated by the plane (art pun: picture plane) that I’m on. Once I (my skills, my career) finally do take off I discover I have no materials to work with. And there are so few passengers (people interested in my art) that I’m concerned about the practicality of the “effort.” I don’t have the “right stuff” to work on this level. Down on earth again I visit the commercial realm. Here I find a way to work—and it’s fun! On the other hand, I question the value of the product. The dream holds out some hope that this type of work can be transformed, as the paintings in the dream are. Since my artist (Michael Jackson) is exposed (naked) I might be able to produce some sort of meaningful, gutsy work in this down-to-earth commercial world, and have fun doing it.

Something’s Got a Hold of Me

The Dream: I’m in bed with my husband Clark, but having sex with someone else who is small in stature and not particularly attractive, but very seductive. I later find out he has had concurrent affairs with many others, each of whom thought she was the only one. I find a message he has sent to one of his paramours. He has drawn a lush lake shore in an expressionistic style. In some way this art conveys his undying love for some other woman.

I am incensed and go to fight with this guy who, I had believed, loved only me. I find him in a cafeteria with Clark. The fellow grabs hold of me and won’t let go. No one helps me; I struggle on.

Interpretation: The figure in the dream appears to be a trickster: he is small, seductive, and unattractive. There’s some small unattractive part of me that I find seductive. In the dream I try out this part, merging with it (having sex). The part of me that deals with life and the world in a practical way (Clark, playing the part of my animus) refuses to get involved in the problem. First he sleeps as the trickster and I become one, and then he doesn’t lift a finger to free me when I’ve had enough of the experiment. I’ve seen the trickster for what he is: duplicitous and deceptive, yet in some way connected to art and regeneration (the lush lake shore). The dream tells me I’ll struggle on until I recognize and integrate this unappealing part of myself.

Does the Coat Still Fit?

What is the price of social acceptance? Today’s dream, a variation on the theme of my last post, discovers the source of “social security.”

The Dream: I’ve left a beautiful coat that my mother made for me in a restaurant. She has embroidered my name into its lining. My Aunt Jenya—famous in the family for her mercurial artistic temperament--has died, and I’ve been given nothing of hers. I regret this, because I think some of her things represent treasures of old Russia and would be wonderful to have. I go back to the restaurant and retrieve the coat.

Interpretation: The coat is the protective warmth of a loving parent. I almost lose it by my association with the difficult aunt, who represents my unpleasant, out-spoken, aggressive side. But it turns out I have none of her qualities (I’ve been given nothing of hers). Because I have none of these (I’ve repressed my “difficult” personality traits) I can go back to the place of sustenance, the restaurant, and wrap myself once again in maternal approval. But—by repressing the negative qualities this aunt represents, am I also repressing her good qualities (her artistic talent)? Maybe I’ve outgrown the coat.

Dancing with Baryshnikov

The night before having this dream I asked my dream generator to give me the dream I need, and this is what I got.

The Dream: He isn’t doing his famous leaps or anything outstanding. It is more a sort of walking, a dancer sort of walking, where the trick is not to look like a dancer. At first I’m disappointed; I want drama. I want to see the impossible. “This looks so natural,” I think.

Baryshnikov chooses me as a partner. My job is to anchor him. I stand in the center as he dances around me, holding my hand. I use my arm muscles to steady him and, while it takes some effort on my part, I think he is being careful not to tax my strength. I could handle more force, I think. I could do more.

Interpretation: In the dream, my first reaction is disappointment in the dancer’s (my inner artist’s) performance. I’m an on-looker at this point, wanting to see the leaps of “White Nights” or “Turning Point.” Is he getting old? I wonder. (Am I?) Then I come to see his natural-appearing movement as the artistry it is: the confidence to appear to be doing nothing—but just try it!

When I “help” he is considerate, but I realize I could do more: as could he! I’m left wondering what’s the right amount of effort, the right amount of display? What’s the relationship between effort and performance? Is my dream telling me to simplify? In other words, not to push it?
 

The Next Step

Why do we women tend to down-grade our capabilities? This dream shows me I do it; I hope a future one will show me how to stop.

The Dream: Over time my yoga instructor morphs into an art critic. In both roles he tries to encourage me. The yogi gives me a role in the yoga hierarchy; the critic makes a great fuss over my paintings, the ones in the living room which, in my opinion, don’t merit his enthusiasm. I’m uncomfortable and embarrassed.

Interpretation: Both disciplines, yoga and painting, delve into the spiritual; both require a high level of skill. My unconscious thinks I’m on the right path but points out that I’m not comfortable thinking of myself as an adept.

Stephen

The Dream: I’m in a school-like setting. I enter a classroom and see Stephen at the front of the room, conferring with 3 or 4 other people. I only glimpse him behind the others. I am dressed fashionably, in a mauve hooded cape over a slim skirt. I am aware of being glamorous. I walk through the room toward a back exit, hoping Stephen will notice me. I’m not sure whether or not he does.

I leave the room, wandering the hallway. Will Stephen follow me? Seek me out? “He was the love of my life,” I think. Then I realize that can’t be right. What about my husband? I think about my attachment to Stephen, feeling it’s ridiculous. In love with a gay man? How utterly futile. What is the attraction? I ask myself. We connected, I decide, on an artistic level.

Interpretation: The outfit I’m wearing in this dream was triggered by my watching children draw Little Red Riding Hood on a TV show. I had been reading about visitation dreams on-line, which no doubt inspired the visit from Stephen, a dear friend who died in 1991. As the dream puts these images together, the cape becomes mauve, the color of mourning, and I learn (I’m in a school setting) how to deal with loss by becoming very practical (the relationship was futile; I have another love) and by connecting the lost person to something that I still have, my interest in art.