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.

Re-Birth

 

Dreams often try to point out that we are, as Marie-Louise von Franz has said, our own difficulty.
The Dream: I'm at a Rehab center. Most of the attendees are young, and I think, “I'm too old for this.” Some of the rehabilitated leave, through a chute, in enclosed carts. At first I think that these are wheelchair substitutes, but then they get off their little conveyances and walk away. They are children with large heads, figures I've often seen in other dreams.

Interpretation: I think that I'm too old to change, but if I can discover the part of me that's still growing (the child) I might be able to overcome the things that limit me (the things that need rehabilitation: the handicaps a wheelchair symbolizes). Once I go down through the narrow chute (experience such a new way of thinking that it seems like rebirth), I'll be able to walk on my own two feet. The overly large heads and small bodies of the children point out that my capabilities need to catch up with my ideas, and those ideas might be inflated.

3 Murdered in the Next Room

The Dream: Three people have been murdered in the next room. Hiro is one of them. I don't know whether or not the murderers want to kill us—us being me, another adult, and two young children. I am trying to dress the 4-year old in order to get them both out to safety. She is defiant and won't listen to me. I don't know how to make her behave; she doesn't grasp the situation and refuses to put a shirt on. I am planning to call the police, but don't want to until I've gotten us all away from the house.

I can't find my net book computer. I've gathered together all my electronic devices, but that one must be in the room with the murdered people. I can't go in there, especially once I hear that Hiro is among the murdered.

Interpretation: There are two things that tip me off as to the meaning of this dream. First, there is the fact that Hiro is among the murdered. Hiro is a close friend of my husband who has behaved like a brother. Then there are the numbers: 3 murdered people and a 4 year old. I was four when my younger brother was born, and I have lost 3 close family members: my father, my mother, and this same younger brother. The defiant child who refuses to grasp the situation is the part of me that doesn't want to accept these deaths. When people lose emotional control, especially if they get angry, we say, "Keep your shirt on!" This part of me refuses to do it. I'd like to get some help from an authority (the police), but I don't think they can help yet.

The family I want to save from danger, the danger of mortality, reflects my current family: two adults and two children. The net book computer that I can't find is the thinking part of me that's missing here. I must accept the reality of these losses, and the inevitability of death, before I'll be able to think clearly.

Can't Erase the Black Marks

The Dream: I'm in a contemporary style classroom, in a shopping mall, with Clark. I am looking for places to cover with black paint, and I find some along a wall that is organized for storage. Then I paint on the glass of some windows and an entrance door. I sling paint around and write some words that are inappropriate for the school age children who come to this place, like “damn.” I soon become aware that I've done something inappropriate and need to remove what I've written. I work at it but find the marks impossible to erase completely. Clark disapproves of my poor judgment in expressing myself in this uncensored way. When the marks I've made in the storage area prove impossible to remove, I move on to the glass door. I scrape with a single edge razor blade and can't understand why the paint won't neatly peel up as it does when I scape paint off my palette in the studio. Clark points to a window on the other side of the room and says I should have used that one instead of the door.

Interpretation: The black marks are things I've done that haunt me (stored in my unconscious), as well as my attempts at self-expression: in waking life I am a painter and the marks I'm making in the dream are with paint. I am unable to eradicate either these black marks or the content they express (damn!), even though I feel both are inappropriate. My laying down of paint in this self-expressive way makes a mess, and that's interesting because I find that's the result when I try to paint something without a plan in waking life. The dream has uncovered the genesis of my rigorous self-discipline, the strength that is also a weakness. Clark, my other half, tells me not that I shouldn't have done what I did, but that I should have found another place (a different way) to do it. He points out that the window (of opportunity) is still available.

Brilliant Children

The Dream: I'm in a room with adults and young children who are joyfully running around. At some point a little boy, quite a hefty little tyke, ensconces himself on my lap. I'm surprised he's so comfortable with someone he doesn't know, although he is a family connection of some sort. When I figure out who he is, I realize he's very young, 18 months to 2 years, but very big for his age and very precocious. I'm amazed at how quickly he's grown. It's lovely holding him. I pat his waist. We chat and again I am struck by such a young child having such a grown up conversation. His mother is busy with the boy's younger brother. Later there are older children, boys, around 8 years old, who speak like university professors. How can they be so intelligent?

Interpretation: Something wonderful has been growing, very quickly. I like it; I'm surprised by it. I get pleasure from interacting with this precocious “baby.” Consciously, I don't know what it is. I need to be on the look-out for clues.

The clues this dream gives me are that the thing has substance (it's hefty), and that while whatever it is seems new to me, it's actually something familiar that I don't recognize (there's a family connection). The precocity that is emphasized hints that this is something that knows too much for its age: in other words, I have gotten ahead of myself and must wait for things to develop in due course.

A Place of Enchantment

From time to time a dream gives a glimpse of a unified and happy psyche.

The Dream: I am in a city apartment building with a friend or colleague and knock on a door. When a young woman answers I describe myself as a home health worker, although even as I say it I'm not sure that's quite accurate. It's my job to check on the welfare of children and families.

The woman is young and lives in an apartment with one large, high ceilinged room; there is a separate kitchen with an eat-in area off to the left. She lives with a man and their two daughters. What has me impressed, and even excited, is the way so many aspects of life have been integrated into this one space. The place is beautifully furnished,with a dark wood hutch to the left. There's a large bed in the middle of the room, and the clutter of children's toys and activities all around. The woman is bathing one of her daughters in a portable tub on top of the bed. The combination of the elegant furnishings and the joyous activity strikes me as wonderful. No conflict here between tidiness and the necessary business of life. The mother is completely comfortable with the low level of chaos, and it doesn't feel chaotic here,but rather serene and lovely.

Later I am invited to the wedding of the woman and the man. I go into the kitchen / eating nook. There is a window over the table and the spot looks bright and airy. “Look,” I say to my companion, “there's only one window, yet the entire place seems so bright and cheerful.”

Interpretation: The home health worker represents the part of me tasked with assessing inner harmony. She checks on the welfare of the various components of my psyche, symbolized by the children and families. In this unusual dream, it seems I've taken a step toward a synthesis of the sometimes discordant players in my inner world. The elegant and refined environment of the home, a symbol of this inner world, feels spacious and is full of beautiful and chaotic life. All are respected and cared for in a loving manner. Some sort of inner integration has taken place, and this is emphasized by the marriage of the man and the woman. Opposite tendencies have been resolved; the lion can lie down with the lamb. Serenity reigns, and illumination prevails. A mysterious light comes from within. Nice. Of course, it won't last . . . .

Expecting in the Autumn of My Life

The Dream: An older woman is surprised to find herself pregnant. She has not seen a doctor, but she is sure this is the case: she knows how it feels.

Interpretation: These last three dreams can be looked at as a sequence that tells me I've done enough for the waking life children I have launched into the world. Now it's time for me to have a new baby (a new passion in life).

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.”

Sisterhood is Powerful

The Dream: I’m in a very nice, upscale restaurant with Clark and my two daughters, who are adults, but are wearing clothes they might have worn as children. The dresses are pretty, old-fashioned, summery. I say something about the fights they had as children over clothes. “Are you going to embarrass us in this restaurant?” I ask. They pretend they are going to have an argument, just to tease me.

Interpretation: My waking- life daughters didn’t fight over clothes or embarrass us in restaurants, and they don’t currently dress as children: the children in this dream represent my own inner children and tell me that I’m integrating psychic material from the past. (Their clothes are old fashioned.) Their squabbles stand for old internal conflicts that still make me uneasy. (“Are you going to embarrass us. . ?”) On the other hand, their differences have apparently been worked out to the point that they can get together and tease me. And I know they’re teasing, a good sign.

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?

Talent in a Limited Sphere

The Dream: My friend Mary and I, and a couple of others, are sitting around in an oblong room. Even though we are few in number, performers come through to entertain us. First to appear is a mixed-aged singing troupe, very young children to adult arranged in order of age, youngest to the left. Two singers catch my eye, one an adorable black boy of about five and the other a middle aged brown-haired white woman. Plain but not homely, she looks like a sweet “mother” type from the 50s. She has a lovely voice, but the group as a whole is amateurish. Other performers cycle through and we realize they hope for some sort of success or recognition, but they have a long way to go, and they aren’t getting much exposure performing for us.

Interpretation: This dream juxtaposes the young, expressive, appealing child who has no skill with the boring, not particularly appealing middle-aged woman with surprising talent. Her talent cannot develop in the limited world she inhabits. Perhaps she is past the point where her talent can develop at all. Her dark blue dress and brown hair evoke my mother: am I looking at her limited achievement in the wider world, which I (and she, no doubt) regretted? Did she want me to be “famous” as her avatar? Is this what drives me?

The presence of my friend Mary is a hint that this dream is linked to the last post  Who’s in the driver seat?

Intruders

The Dream: I am returning home in the evening with the family. We are walking along the sidewalk to our townhouse that opens onto the street. As we approach our door I notice a window ajar. I point this out to the others, feeling clever that I have noticed. “I didn’t leave the window that way,” I say. I walk up a step or two and push the front door, which opens at my touch. In the dim interior light I see a young man scrambling into his clothes; we’ve apparently caught him in flagrante delicto: but what is the crime? Not really caring whether he is using my home for a sexual encounter, as it appears, or whether he’s come to steal, I am frightened and angry. “Call the cops,” he suggests. I am so frightened that I have trouble deciding which phone to use—cell or land line—and can’t find either. Somehow I manage to make the call, telling the cops a burglary is in progress. Then I wonder who else is in the house. There must be a girl, I think, since it seems we’ve caught the fellow having sex. “Did they use my bed?” I wonder, feeling grossed out.

The Fortune Tellers

Dreams do their job whether or nor we’re aware of it, and whether or not we remember them. It’s interesting to watch this mysterious and powerful psychic force at work in those dreams we do remember. The next three posts are good examples.

The Dream: I am in a group of four. The others in the group are my younger brother and two children. We are performing some sort of ritual which the local people think will foretell their future. We feel like charlatans; our scientific backgrounds tell us this is hokum, but the people are lined up as far as the eye can see, awaiting our pronouncements. We look at one another knowingly and hopelessly. We can’t get out of it, so we proceed.

There are some odd implements involved in our process. One is a long pipe, red with rust. Another is a nondescript, passive, slightly plump brown-haired girl. She uses the pipe as a catapult, and we foretell events depending on where she lands.

Interpretation: A younger brother and children are both symbols of vulnerability, emphasizing its importance in this dream. The two children also suggest the possibility of growth. Four is a significant number for Jung, who sees it as representing a kind of completeness, as in the four corners that make a square, the four directions (North, East, South, and West) or the four seasons.  So what do I have so far? Some phase of my life is complete (the number four). I am vulnerable, and it’s time for me to grow. I’m being asked to do the impossible: foretell the future, and there is considerable social pressure that I do so, even though I know I can’t. The rusty pipe (pipes connect things; rusty implies old) tells me that this is a conundrum from the past, perhaps the feelings of a child who thinks she can’t fulfill parental expectations. There’s some hope I’ll grow past this feeling of inadequacy by jumping (catapulting) beyond it. But how it turns out will depend on where I land.

Take a Break

The Dream: I’m invited to take part in various lighthearted events, but I react to the invitations by feeling weary. One in particular stands out: a 4th of July celebration is coming, with fireworks, and the kids want to go. I don’t think I’ll enjoy it.

Interpretation: The dream shows several things coming up that are supposed to be enjoyable that I am not able to enjoy. This is a common reaction for me when I’m feeling overextended—almost always by too many obligations. The 4th of July is an interesting symbol here; it celebrates Independence Day—and freedom! I have to figure out why I’m resisting the explosion of freedom the fireworks represent.

The number 4 is significant to Jung, who sees it as a symbol of wholeness. In his terms, the dream is pointing out my resistance to integrating some part of me that would both make me whole and release a spectacular amount of energy. And it might even be fun.

Note: Carla Young is featured in an article in the SF Examiner. Read it here.

What is my Niche?

You might notice that your dreams tend to illustrate a point by going over the top. In this dream I get a message from my inner drama queen.

The Dream: I have been ill, and it is determined that it is time for me to die. I am in India, wearing a flowing costume, but the street looks like the one I live on. My “father,” who looks and acts nothing like my real life father, accompanies me on the journey to my burial. This father is very tall, relatively slender, with a fair complexion and close cropped hair. We are escorted by a large rabble of young children who are merrily running, frolicking, and occasionally falling down, scraping a knee, and crying. I note to myself that they are behaving exactly like children. This odd procession walks through streets now citified and comes at last to my gravesite.

The site contains an open tomb, a simple rectangular box with no lid. Inside the box are the do-whap songs of two early rock groups. The songs have been shredded and are being stirred, with the expectation that they will turn into a peanut-butter like goop. Father, holding a copy of one of Nietzsche’s works, becomes intellectual and starts to lecture about the writer. He tells me his name is properly pronounced Niche these days. I am exasperated. “Must they change everything?” I say.

I tear the binding off the back of the book so it can be shredded and added to the coffin with the songs. Father opens the partially destroyed book and shows me a list of questions Nietzsche thought people should ask themselves. I read the questions, which invite introspection, and realize I’ve never asked myself these things. “I want to live,” I exclaim, with a certain desperation. “I want to live!”

Interpretation: I had this dream seven years ago. At that time I was recording my dreams, but had little idea what to make of them. In a rather histrionic way, the dream tells me to find my niche (Nietzsche). It tells me that life without introspection is not life at all.

Struggle with an Angel?

One reason myths have staying power is their ability to encapsulate a universal human experience. This dream shows how these myths can spontaneously appear, and when they do, it means the issue they are highlighting is important.

The Dream: Clark and I are in a romantic mood despite the nearness of the children. Suddenly I am grabbed from behind by a man with wings, and held very tightly—so tightly I can’t breathe. I try to call out, but no sound comes. Final I start screaming, “Clark! Clark!” in hopes he’ll rescue me. I awaken.

Interpretation: As I try to awaken the unconscious and incorporate it into my conscious life I am grabbed from behind by a powerful force. In other words, things I have tried to “put behind me” emerge with great intensity and practically squeeze the life out of me. The dream tells me I need my other half, the part I have repressed into unconsciousness, to solve the problem. This other half is symbolized by husband Clark and our attempt at union when the dream begins, as well as the fact that I call out to him as the dream ends. Ultimately, of course, I need to turn and face the angel / demon.

A New Old Home

The basic work of our psyche is to create wholeness by integrating all the sometimes warring elements within. Some dreams show that we’re on the path of integration; this dream shows the opposite.

The dream: A friend has bought a Victorian house. I am thinking about buying a house nearby, and my friend is  condescending toward it. I feel hurt and diminished by her reaction. The house I am considering, which I defend as being “Queen Anne vintage,” has elements of both an older style house and a modern tract home. There is a large laundry room downstairs which I joke can be the children’s playroom. I am not sure that I like the dining room, or rather the living room dining room combo: one large rectangular room. A moment later the dining room splits into an L alcove with a half-height white fence.

Interpretation: The friend represents the part of me that has made an accommodation to collective reality. She has found a Victorian house in which to live, with all its symbolism of a strictly ordered public life and the hint of a secret private life. Another part wants a home that combines the old--the values and expectations of the very different culture of my youth—with the contemporary. Of course there are hints this modernity is narrow in its own way, with its tract homes, but in the dream it was presented as practical and serviceable. I make room for the disruptive anarchic children, even if the space (downstairs, in the laundry) seems grudging and tentative--not to mention implying they need to be cleaned up. I can’t combine all the background chatter (din-ing room) with life (living room) so I split off the unconscious elements (the L shaped alcove indicates the unconscious) and fence them in. The future work is to face these elements and give them adequate space.

The Willing Sacrifice

This dream has two different levels of meaning, as you’ll find many of your dreams do.
The Dream: I’m giving a large dinner party. I run around distractedly trying to get everything done. The guests are milling about and no one offers to help. I am making no progress, but working very hard. I ask one of the children to set the table; when I take some dishes into the dining room I discover the table is bare. I am angry and frustrated, not particularly at the children, but at everyone attending the party for not pitching in. I am embarrassed and feel the event is out of control.

There is no bread. I thought I had some, but for some reason it can’t be used. A man offers to be the bread. He climbs onto a kitchen table, lies face up, and tells me to slice him. I don’t know where to slice and feel very uncomfortable with the idea, but he is insistent. He wants to help; he assures me he will turn into bread once I begin slicing. I take a knife and make a shallow incision in the area of the abdomen. I see a thin trickle of blood, not deep red like real blood but thin and watered-down looking, orange-red. When I see the blood I cannot continue.

Interpretation: On the day-to-day level, I’ve taken on more than I can handle. (I am making no progress, but working very hard.) Oh, the story of my life! I feel I’m getting nothing back for the effort I put in. I would like some help, but none is forthcoming. Some part of me wants to sacrifice myself to the needs of the group (become the food for the party-goers). Another part can’t do it.

On a deeper level, the willing sacrifice is what Jung calls an archetype, a symbol for something universal to human experience. The connection of sacrifice to bread is ancient and primitive. On this level the unconscious is pointing out the depth of sacrifice demanded of a sentient being who has chosen life on the planet. This profound and willing sacrifice is contrasted to the business (busy-ness) and petty frustrations with which we often fill our lives. The dream prepares me to accept the implications of life.

Overcoming the Past

Dreams can deal with painful material from the past, as I think this one does. Even without specifically remembering the event, the dream helps us resolve the issues involved.

The Dream: I’m out driving, trying to avoid a rough-looking neighborhood. I turn into a street with older buildings which look like one-story garages. It’s a poor neighborhood, but bright. I wonder if I’ve arrived in a scary part of town after all, but I see children, smiling and happy-looking, so I don’t feel threatened.  At the end of the street is a low house with a screened-in front porch.

I go in. I chat with the woman who lives here. She is middle-aged and I am younger. She has a tasty-looking dish on a sideboard. I try some and find out it’s made of squirrel. I think using squirrels for food might solve the problem I have with them eating the seed in my bird-feeder, and besides, it is delicious. But I wonder who will skin them.

There is a silver contraption on another sideboard. To my surprise, the woman pulls out a very long, sharp gleaming silver knife. I am uncomfortable with her standing there with this knife in her hand. “This belongs to the children,” she says.

Interpretation: I go into the past (a street with older buildings), where I feel threatened (the rough-looking neighborhood) and meet the woman in charge (the part of me still living with an old wound). She feeds me unusual and unexpected but delicious food. Besides nourishing me, this food might be a way to protect my offerings to my soul or spirit. Birds often represent both; and I want to safeguard my “bird-feeder” from the squirrels. But there is some ambivalence: eating the food, solving the soul problem, requires skinning the animal (exposing my vulnerability?)

The woman surprises me by pulling a knife out of an old wound (silver can represent the past, tarnished and/or precious). At first I find her possession of this knife threatening, but she diffuses its power by saying it belongs to the children. Perhaps she is hinting that children caused the painful event in the past. However, the children in the dream are not threatening, signaling I’ve moved on.