The Unconscious Mother

The Dream: I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and when I come back my mother is in my place. She is almost diagonally across the bed, with her head at the foot. I try to rouse her to get her into a better position, but she remains more than asleep, almost unconscious. I am concerned that I am unable to move her.

Interpretation: Mother is lodged, inappropriately, at the root (foot of the bed) of my unconscious. While I want to reposition her—I am unable to. The dream tells me that I've got things exactly backward, upside down. And that I've relinquished too much of myself (my proper place).

The Bed and The Diary

The Dream: Part 1: I'm a child. I'm in a room with twin beds. My brother is meant to sleep in one; I'm meant to sleep in the other. I get into his bed with him. I think there's something wrong with my doing this, but it isn't clear to me what it is. I know I should cover up the action. Both pillows are on one bed; the other bed is pristine and clearly has not been slept in. Will Mother figure it out? I decide she'll only think I made my bed and my brother didn't.

Part 2: I'm an adult. I'm reading through an old diary that my daughter had left at the house, written on a stenographer's pad. In one part she describes an active and unembarrassed sex life. I'm very surprised that she had such a frank view of sex at such an early age. I feel uncomfortable about this on the one hand, but on the other hand I think that since all has turned out well, perhaps it's okay. In some parts of the diary I notice a different handwriting and wonder if it's that of one of her boyfriends. I feel a certain dread—but also an attraction—toward reading what he wrote.

Interpretation: These dreams further the sorting out of the “mother” theme. The child/mother relationship is central in both. In the first I'm the child; in the next I'm the mother. In both Mother judges my spontaneous relationship to life (sex) and pleasure, and in the dreams these feelings are symbolized by a socially inappropriate relationship. The fact that I am not sure what might be wrong with being in bed with my bother tells me that the dream is pointing to a very early feeling. The dream uncovers (covers play an important role here!) my earliest sexual feelings and the child's dawning awareness of parental disapproval regarding them. The dream tells me that this has colored my feelings about pleasure: some part of me believes it's something to be leery of.

In the second part my child has developed and explored her sexual feelings despite mother's queasiness on the topic. She keeps her diary in a stenographer's notebook, an interesting touch since stenographers write down what others tell them. What proportion of my view of life and sex was created by the society I live in? There is a role reversal in the dream sequence as I go from child to mother: I become the owner of  my own attitudes and mores. A kind of freedom from the influence of the mother of my childhood occurs as the mother in the second part concludes that perhaps it's okay that her child has freely explored sex.

The Unmade Bed

The Dream: I have rested on a bed in a place that is like a hotel room except that it has no walls. I've rumpled the bedspread, and although I haven't been under it (between the sheets), I have nevertheless degraded the bed from its pristine state. I am ready to move on, but feel guilty about leaving the bed unfixed. "Is it my responsibility to fix it?" I wonder. Would anyone know I messed it up if I don't? Should I have paid for my rest?

Interpretation: There's an old saying, “You've made your bed and now you must lie in it,” meaning you've created an unpleasant or difficult situation and now you must live with it. In this dream I seem to be reversing this: I've lain in the bed, but refuse to make it. I move on, leaving the bed unmade and feeling guilty about it—nevertheless, I'm unwilling to take on fixing the situation. The dream points out that straightening this out would be a simple enough task.

Out the Window

The Dream: A glamorous if superficial-looking woman has something I don't have, and I'm not happy about it. By way of explanation Clark says, “She's attractive.” I am immediately hit by the implication “And I'm not?” I'm very angry at my husband for 1) thinking this blond woman is so attractive and 2) not getting that he has insulted me.

There is an unusually tall bed near a window. As Clark climbs up a short ladder to reach the bed I goose him. He loses his footing, shoots up into the air and goes out the second story window. I am shocked, thinking he'll be killed. When I look out the window I see he's managed to grasp onto a nearby steel grid. The seat of a bicycle is not far from his foot, and it looks as if he'll be able to use it to push himself to safety. When I see he's safe the situation strikes me as humorous, and I laugh.

Interpretation: As the scene opens I'm irritated at my other half (my Animus), the carrier of my own internalized patriarchal values. When he goes out the window, however, the situation becomes alarming. The bike seat, similar in shape to the phallus, becomes the “vehicle” that reintegrates this part of my psyche. The trickster, prompting the humorous goose, has intervened to show me that I don't want to get rid of the masculine altogether (as in kill), but I do want to enjoy the temporary ascendancy that comes from being able to laugh at him, in other words, not take him too seriously.

Something's Got A Hold of Me

The Dream: I was startled awake by this nightmare. Clark and I are in bed, asleep. Our dog, Toffee, comes bounding in and jumps on the bed between us. He clamps his teeth onto my finger and won't let go. I scream again and again for Clark's help; he doesn't respond. Finally, screaming over and over, “Clark, you aren't paying attention to me!” I awaken, feeling very shaken.

Interpretation: On the surface this dream seems to be saying that I feel neglected by my husband, and that could certainly be one of its meanings. But the level of terror I experienced in the dream hints at another meaning. I've been grabbed by the instinctive (my animal, the dog) and it won't relent. The rational (Clark, my animus) ignores the problem.

The dog in the dream, Toffee, died some years ago, and the terror the dream conjures seems consistent with a primal fear such as that of dying. What might have triggered this nightmare? Last night I was reading George Eliot's “Daniel Deronda.” In the book the character Gwendolyn responds with terror to a painting of a dead face and someone fleeing.

I Stink

The Dream: We are looking for a recipe for pecan pie. I remember that it is delicious, and that my mother made an excellent version. I look through lots of cookbooks, focusing on one with beautiful pictures rendered in a soft technique, with simple shading of basic shapes. I wonder if this could be computer generated, although it doesn't look it. Then the artist speaks: she tells me she does all her work by hand, the old-fashioned way.

I have retreated upstairs and am lying on a bed with the covers loosely over me. I fart very loudly a couple of times, hoping no one downstairs has heard. Clark comes up a minute or two later and lifts off the covers. “Whew!” he exclaims, and I'm embarrassed.

Interpretation: The day before I had this dream I got an email from an artist acquaintance cataloging her recent accomplishments. Her current gallery show has been well received and she has been reviewed by influential critics. Her success is well-deserved, but that doesn't mitigate my reaction to it: envy combined with a massive feeling of inadequacy. In other words, I stink. My unconscious uses an over the top, humorous image to show me there might be some hyperbole in these feelings.

The “old-fashioned” techniques the dream artist uses refer to the classical but dated art that I prefer and cling to. The pecan pie is something delicious from the past that I'd like to recreate. Who knows? I might yet find the recipe if I keep looking.

What am I Looking For?

The Dream: I see my friend with a drink and want a glass of wine, even though I've just finished one and feel slightly tipsy. I go to the circular bar, in a room that separates the one I'm in from an adjoining theater. From the entry it looks as if I need to circle around to the back to get the bartender's attention, but once I do I realize that's not right: I need to go back to the place where I started. As I get near the bar—my turn is next—an older lady and her daughter shove in front of me. “I'm next,” I tell them. They don't seem offended, but on the other hand while they smile and appear to acquiesce, they push past me and get the bartender's attention.

The bar staff, in stage makeup, leave the bar to join the troupe in the theater. A woman, in particular, is clownishly made up—very white skin, with a little bow mouth. She's dressed like a flapper in pinkish lavender with cheeks and curly hair to match. She's middle-aged or older. The man's style matches hers. They resemble Otto Dix caricatures.

I'm left standing at the deserted bar, still waiting for my drink. On their way out one of bartenders says, “Look at yourself, you're ridiculous.” Then I realize how silly I look, futilely standing at the deserted bar waiting to be waited on.

I leave, in search of –I don't know what. I go into room after room of bunk beds, many of them filled with couples lying together suggestively, no doubt having sex, but discreetly. Some are alone in these bunk beds, all occupied, all jammed close together. People are covered with blankets, yet I have a strong sense that something is going on underneath. I notice one couple: the young woman has long blond braids. I feel intrusive and uncomfortable, and I'm not finding whatever it is I'm looking for.

Interpretation: As the dream begins I look to numb myself: I want a drink even though I'm already tipsy. There's something I want to avoid. If there's a bar that prevents me from seeing what I need to see, there's also a bar to my numbing myself, and in this dream the literal bar is central to the action. Everything conspires to deprive me of my soporific—others press ahead of me, and the bartenders go off duty. As a parting shot they tell me I'm ridiculous (like the Otto Dix characters), and I have to admit they're right.

Having accepted their assessment of what I'm doing, I go in search of the thing I need. I discover people in intimate relationships—all jammed together. I realize that something is going on underneath (in my unconscious) that I've been unaware of. The dream hints that what I've missed, what's going on underneath, is a passionate wish for connection, symbolized here by sexual union.

Guest Dreamer: Sticky Ball Returns

Each of us has our own set of personal symbols, and the work of understanding your dreams lies in  carefully excavating them.

The Dream: I am walking up narrow wooden steps in a house. Low ceilings, pitch black except for small amount of light illuminating from either a flashlight I have in my hand or perhaps someone walking behind me with some light. It feels like one of those old homes you might find back east - narrow, dark stairs, tiny rooms. Then I'm in a bed. My right hand is in front of me and a rubber-like sphere is attached to my hand like it's sticky and stuck on me. It is still dark except for some reflected light on the ball (coming from a waning moon outside I think) so it looks navy bluish and the size of a baseball. I keep trying to disengage the ball from my hand by pushing it away but the harder I push the faster it comes back and sticks to my hand (as if attached by an invisible string). I am getting annoyed and frustrated.

Carla's thoughts: I don't know Maria, or anything about her life: I hope she will work through her dream, looking at its symbols in terms of what's going on in waking life. To get her started, and to suggest a way of going about the process, I'll write about her dream as if it were my own. Dreams have many possible meanings, so whatever someone else says about your dream is only accurate if it rings true for you.

For me, the narrow wooden steps stand for something in my life that is unbending, perhaps lacking feeling (wooden); something that constricts or limits me (narrow); and something that will take some effort to surmount (like a flight of steps). The low ceiling, the darkness, and the tiny rooms reinforce the idea that something is oppressing me. A home, being the place where I live, stands for me, and the characteristics of my dream home tell me that I'm not in a good place at the moment. The light is an encouraging symbol, however, telling me that I am capable of shining some light on what's bothering me and that the answer might come to me quickly, intuitively, in a flash.That the light might be held by someone else, walking behind me,  hints that there may be a helpful person I've overlooked.

The bed, being a place where intimacy occurs, symbolizes something that I'm very close to, for example, a relationship or my work. I'm in a sticky situation that's making me blue (sad), like the sticky ball in my hand. The moon is waning; romance (or the excitement of the job) has diminished, but isn't completely gone. My situation has strings attached; these might be the source of my frustration. My dream is telling me to shine some light (rationally evaluate) what's going on and then figure out what to do about the sticky situation.

Guest Dreamer: I Need to Sleep on It

Today's guest dreamer Travis Wernet gives us the opportunity to further explore the shoe theme. Travis works with both dreams and sound healing. You can find out more about his work here. Like Tyler, Travis has a two-dream sequence, and both of his feature shoes. We'll look at the first dream today.
Travis' First Dream: I'm in a bedroom, arranging a transparent pillow full of branches/twigs/herbs on a bed and at the 'head', which is on my 'right'... To the left is a group/audience - composed of all women (I am pretty sure). My waking life sister opens a door to the left and enters with a friend. I feel interrupted/distracted. They've brought in two pairs of shoes and set them on the bed. One woman in the audience whom I am seeking to impress remarks on the "fine, stylish red pair." I know they're leather and I myself don't see them as red, but more dark/brown. She wants me to put them on and wear them and it seems to me they are very finely crafted shoes, but I seem hesitant to wear them and want to get back to my pillow arranging activity.

Carla' thoughts: The bedroom, the place where I sleep, is also the place where I encounter my unconscious. Of course it is also a place of intimacy, so this dream is giving me information about my unconscious feelings about a relationship. The relationship might be with another person or it might be with my own anima (the woman that lives within a man). How I relate to my anima will affect the way I interact with women in general, and I think I might be on the right track here because there are so many women in this dream.

The transparent pillow is particularly important since it occurs both at the beginning and at the end of the dream. A pillow is a place where I put my head—a symbol for the rational—while I sleep. This is when I can experience the unconscious intuitive way of thinking that is traditionally associated with women. The pillow's branches tell me that I'm branching out, ready to experience something new. The twigs suggest new growth, and the herbs tell me that the new growth that will emerge from my branching out is healing. The pillow's transparency symbolizes that what the dream is telling me is clear—not opaque.

My sister (my anima) opens a door (gives access) to the left (my unconscious). Of course I'm distracted by this intrusion; it interrupts my usual relationship to my psyche. She and her friend present me with an implied choice between two pairs of shoes, although the second pair doesn't show up until the second dream. They put the shoes on the bed (symbol of my intimacy with women), and I begin to experience conflict. There's a woman that I want to impress, but she and I don't see eye to eye. She thinks the shoes are red, while I see them as brown (I'm more down to earth; her feelings are more passionate than mine). The shoes are leather (I'm dealing with something basic, instinctive). Yet she sees the shoes in a more superficial way, as stylish. She wants me to do something I am not yet comfortable with: I'm not ready to wear these shoes, fine as they are. I go back to arranging the pillow: I need to sleep on it (do some further psychic preparation.)

Wrestling with Heavy Issues

Something that has happened in the recent past usually triggers a particular dream. But there is always a reason that, of all the things that happen every day, our dreams focus on the particular thing they choose.

The Dream: A woman with dark curly hair is in a wrestling arena, lying on the floor of the rink as if in bed. She is supposed to be recounting her dreams for a panel of dream experts, but instead she is telling us about her life experiences. I don’t feel qualified to comment on these.

Interpretation: This dream was triggered by The Dr. Phil Show that had a segment on dreams shortly before I had this one. While I had commented on some posts about dreams that had been generated by the show on the program’s website, some people had written about serious personal problems, and I didn’t feel comfortable commenting on those. But to bring the dream’s meaning home to my life: the recent deaths of two friends have left me wrestling with some heavy issues. The sports arena is the symbolic venue for the struggle. My life experience, so far, hasn’t given me the means to work through these difficulties. But if I can get away from dealing with the problem rationally (through life experience) and give it over to the dream expert (my own inner wisdom) I might find a way to cope.

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.

The Scream

The Dream: I am lying on a bed. I put my head into a long tube and scream. My father comes into the room and asks me if I scream often. “No, I say, “this is the only time I ever screamed.”

“Heart attack,” he says.

“Well,” I say, “you’d better take me to the hospital.”

All dither around. No one seems to grasp the urgency of the situation. Someone asks if I feel any pain, and I say, “Only some tightness in my chest.”

Interpretation: I’ve got my head up my ass (in a long tube). There’s something emotionally painful (attack in the region of the heart) that I’m refusing to see. I need some help (the hospital) in order to get this off my chest.

She Kills with Kindness

The Dream: A woman, a celebrity, has a lot of children 7 and under. They are all on a large bed that protrudes onto a city street and seem retractable, like the produce stands that sprout on city streets during business hours. The woman tenderly ministers to the children, but I know she’s killing them. Yet I can’t believe it; she appears to be so genuinely loving. I am confused.

Interpretation: The loving tenderness reminds me of my mother. The retractable bed brings to mind the memory of a time when all three of us children were sick, and Mom set up beds in the living room. She took wonderful care of us. Does the parent, as part of his/her “duty” inevitably “kill” aspects of her children, for example, anti-social, selfish desires or the child’s narcissism? Might the untamed unconscious see this as some sort of murder? Is my psyche still trying to understand these two conflicting roles my mother and all mothers enact?

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.

Staying with My In-Laws

The Dream: I am visiting my in-laws. They give me their bedroom for the night. I am given a single bed next to where they normally sleep: in a “nest” on the floor that’s big enough for two.

Interpretation: I thought of my in-laws, and the gifts they have given me, as I worked in my studio yesterday. As I opened the sky-light I thought of my father-in-law, who had helped install it. I thought of both as I used a paper cutter Clark brought back for me from their house after his mother went into assisted living, and I thought of her again as I used some of her china-painting pigments. In the dream my husband’s family made room for me in the most intimate room of their house, a beautiful symbol of their acceptance, and I am grateful. Although one is gone and the other near death they stay with me, as in the dream I stay with them.

Guest Dreamer: Bed, Bath and Beyond

A typical dream for Hunky, a visual artist, is composed of images. She is perplexed by this dream because it consists only of words.

The Dream: This morning before I was totally awake I almost called out loud to my husband, "John, call Bed, Bath and Beyond!  Correct the error!  We don't want to pay for what we didn't receive!"  

Hunky: My imagination takes off with this dream, Carla, but I could be totally wrong.  Does it refer to my marriage?  Does it refer to my health (just got good news)?  Does it refer to my continuing concerns (issues around my father)?  Should I sleep on it (bed), and what is it?  Should I wash away certain concerns from my thinking (bath)? Should I look to the future (beyond) for positive, fulfilling endeavors?  I am totally confused.  Because this dream had no visual context I am challenged by its words. Can you imagine the dream as yours?

Carla: My version of Hunky’s dream operates on two levels. Marie-Louise von Franz says that a dream refers to, or is triggered by, something that happened in the past day or two. The trigger doesn't limit the meaning of the dream, but it can be helpful in starting to understand it. The first level has to do with my day-to-day concerns and issues, such as the ones that Hunky has mentioned. If it were my dream, I would ask myself if there were something that I had felt as if I had paid for (not necessarily with money--perhaps with my effort) that gave me nothing back. I call on my animus (my husband, my other-half) to fix the situation. I don't feel my feminine side can deal with the problem. Perhaps I feel I have to give, to support and to nurture beyond my capability. I need my male half to step in, be practical, and protect me from my tendency to overextend for the benefit of others.

The Yellow Blanket

The Dream: There is a cheerful yellow blanket with trapunto ducks that I want to put on the bed.

Interpretation: A bed is a place to rest, and a blanket symbolizes warmth and comfort. The yellow ducks imply the homey sort of contentment a well-cared for child experiences. The dream is pointing out that I want to rest and be comforted.

Falling Apart

The Dream: An elderly lady is failing. She is very beautiful and still sought after as a sage and speaker. She is lying on a bed, her hair coiffed and looking quite the grande dame. She is giving a lecture. A man comes over. I whisper in his ear: “Can’t we move her to a better spot, the like podium across the hall?” The lady overhears me and starts to fail before my eyes. Clearly my suggestion, while well-meant, is too much for her. She can’t make the move to a more public forum.

Interpretation: The last dream gave me a warning about too much self analysis. This dream suggests the dangers inherent in publicizing my dreams.  A beautiful and wise part of me is very fragile; it must remain private if it is to survive.

The Transformative Power of the Child

After the very long analysis of the last very short dream, my unconscious offered up this delightful confirmation of the importance of the inner child.

The Dream: I’m at a doctor’s office. She sits in an enclosed cubicle and asks questions as I lie in a bed nearby. I have two problems with her questions: 1) I can’t hear them, and 2) I can’t understand them. She uses a lot of big words; strung together they create incomprehensible sentences. I become frustrated and angry and—feeling inadequate—I blurt out: “I’m a Phi Beta Kappa; I’m not stupid! And I can’t understand what you’re saying!”

I am with my daughter, who is a baby but as intelligent as an adult. She tries to tell me what the doctor is saying. I embrace my child, enjoying our closeness, but partially showing off for the doctor. “See? I have a good relationship with my child!”

The doctor comes out of her cubicle in a fairy princess outfit. She is taking part in a show the staff is putting on. One of the staff comes over and removes her doctor’s name tag.

Interpretation: There are things my intellect cannot understand and cannot cure. Progress for my psyche comes through feeling (the embrace) and intuition (the child). When I embrace my child, something magical happens.

What is Woman?

Jung calls our inner versions of people their imagos; these live in us and are part of us. Besides carrying the person they represent, in this dream the imagos reflect my earliest ideas of what it means to be a woman.

The Dream: In a hotel room with three double beds in a line. My mother and my aunt Ann share the center bed. Mother chooses this particular bed because, she says, she “won’t need to get out.”

Interpretation: At the center of my being are two archaic versions of femininity, represented by my mother and my aunt. The mother: giving, nurturing, relentless in her control and supervision, self-sacrificing, beautiful, a care-taker. The aunt: single, childless, demanding, flamboyant, artistic, temperamental.  I need to update my conceptual framework! The two empty double beds leave me room for other, happier couplings.