Family History

The Dream: We are visiting acquaintances, a little older than we are. They are very nice, salt of the earth, mid-Western. As we converse it becomes apparent that the man, slightly heavy, quiet, almost dour, is a keen genealogist. Clark doesn't immediately let on that he is as well, but I say, enthusiastically, “Oh! So is Clark!”
I go on to say how either you're interested in this sort of thing or you're not, and I'm not. And I tell him it's because I know everything there is to know about my family, and I proceed to tell him.

“My grandparents are Russian, my father's family from Belo-Russe; my mother's were Russian speakers who lived in what was Austria Hungary at the time, now Poland. There was all sorts of ethnic, political complexity at the time, I explain. “My mother's father died when she was 2, and my grandmother worked cleaning office buildings to keep the family together.” I find I am getting choked up as I say this, fighting back tears. My listener is impassive. “She was a hero!” I say.

Meanwhile, the wife's large family of sisters have arrived. They remind me of the women in my exercise class: pleasant, but I feel I have nothing in common with them.

Interpretation: The mid-Western people I have nothing in common with represent the larger American society and culture that, as a child, I felt too ethnic to be a part of. My estrangement is echoed in the present by my feelings about the women in my exercise class. The impassive mid-Western man understands nothing of the immigrant experience and really isn't interested; he's very comfortable in his own deep experience of endless American ancestors.

What the dream brings up about my feelings for my poor, overworked and very kind grandmother is new to me. I hadn't been aware of this sadness lurking inside over the difficulty of her life. I'm not sure why I'm telling the man about it: it's as though I'd like him to understand, but he isn't interested. With the appearance of the wife's large family at the end of the dream I'm thrown back to a women's group (like the members of my exercise class) that I can never be part of: they are sisters and I'm not. This dream points to one of the reasons I have often felt somewhat alienated.

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.)

Guest Dreamer: Getting Ready to Roll

Tyler, who contributed the last dream featuring feet and shoes, here shares a dream that has a different image--but one that still relies on self-propelled movement.
 
Tyler's Second Dream: I was at my ex-girlfriend's sisters house (which is coincidental because I used to live in that neighborhood). I may or may not have been with a friend. My ex may also have had a friend there but I can't be sure. It was raining relatively hard, and she was standing in the garage and I was out in the rain in her driveway. There were no cars in the driveway, but there was a bike propped up on the outside of the garage. I moved inside the garage and got out of the rain where I remember seeing another bike lying on the floor. We both looked at it, but I can't remember any dialogue. After that, the rain had slowed down to a nice drizzle, but I remember the sky still looked pretty scary, like it was about to thunderstorm even harder than it had before. And then I walked out into the drizzle and I woke up.

Carla's Thoughts: If this were my dream, its meaning would hinge on the images of bike and weather. That it's raining heavily tells me that, as in my last dream, I'm dealing with a highly charged (like a thunderstorm) emotional situation. My ex is standing in the garage (where I store things). What I store here (bike or car) is connected to my ability to move (alter my current emotional state). The bike represents moving by means of my own personal effort, and the floor is associated with something exasperating or difficult to overcome (I'm floored!). To sum it up: When I am in the place where I've stored my ex my grounded bike makes it difficult for me to move on. Once I have this dream realization, unconscious though it may be, the rain abates and becomes a drizzle. In other words, I've released some of my negative emotions. I'm still not out of the water—the sky looks threatening; but I've managed to walk out of the garage and into the drizzle, so I'm on my way.

Remembrance of Things Past

The key to this dream is sisterhood.

The Dream: I see a stylish woman wearing a Kappa Kappa Gamma key as an ornament. I think this looks good, and I go to find my own sorority key. In looking for it I find information about the early Kappas, and I become interested in the history of the group and in the sorority itself, things I didn't care about as an active. I realize things have changed, but my own interest in the group, and my feeling of attachment for it, is greater than I remember its being.

A woman appears who is an official of Kappa Kappa Gamma. I tell her that I’ve written a biography of the founder. She asks to see it, and I realize—if I didn’t know it when I spoke—that I made that up. I say I’ve misplaced it, and in the meantime I plan to go to the library and see what I can discover. I tell myself not plagiarize; I hope to find more than one source of information.

I find records of my past Kappa Kappa Gamma activities. There’s a light yellow silk blouse with a v-neck and ruffled collar that seems important. I find an old play that I thought I’d written in New York, but it turns out I wrote it shortly after I was married. It has a large cast of just about everyone Clark and I knew at the time. I think it must not have been too embarrassing a venture, since I don’t remember anything about it.

Interpretation: I’m dealing with my past here, re-evaluating the worth of some of my activities. My participation in a college sorority seems more valuable in the dream than it did at the time. The dream tells me it’s time to look at things differently (I realize things have changed): the history I’ve say I’ve written (the woman’s biography) doesn’t exist. I need to do some research and find some new sources of information. And, what’s more, what I discover must be unique to me: I’m not to plagiarize someone else’s version of the woman’s (my) life.

“Sisterhood” represents my early family life, when I was the “sister.” Looking back, I see I wore a beautiful, well-made silk blouse; I see the experiences I had and the bonds I developed are more positive, and that the gifts of the organization (my family) are greater, than I realized at the time. 

The tie-in between sisterhood and my subsequent life (the play in New York) hints that my awkward feeling that everything I did as a young person was awful and embarrassing might not reflect reality. (Maybe it wasn’t too embarrassing a venture.)  The dream symbolically points out that the sinking feeling I get when thinking about my own past—partially feelings of loss, partially feelings of embarrassment—might not be accurate. It’s time to take a second look so I can find a more comfortable way to integrate the past with the present. 

Guest Dreamer: Fall and Recovery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For more information about dream groups see About Dream Groups.

Splashing in the Pool

The Dream: My sister Betty is visiting. I am supposed to have some information about her arrival and departure but I can’t find it. I am scurrying about looking for it. Clark finds the data pricked into a piece of tin-foil with a stylus.

We have a swimming pool off the kitchen and Betty is happily splashing about. The pool has been sectioned; only one square part is heated and in use. The rest goes off to the left. There is no division between the kitchen ad the pool. 

Interpretation: I don’t know something about an important part of me (my sister).  Perhaps this part comes and goes (Betty will arrive and depart). I look for this information in an ineffective way, and my animus (Clark) suggests what I’m looking for might be a foil (tin foil) for something else: perhaps something ancient, as hinted by the use of a stylus.

This realization creates a psychic change that is reflected in the fact that my sister now swims happily in my pool (the unconscious). The square section of the pool reflects the integrated part of my personality; there’s more unconscious (unheated) material (the unused section of the pool off to the left). But it’s an encouraging sign that there is no division between the kitchen (a place where transformation takes place) and the pool (the unconscious).

Death of the Attached Baby

The Dream: I am in a dune-like area. The sea is implied, but not seen. There is a modern road through the dunes, with a sidewalk and the sort of empty bus stop often seen in the suburbs. I wander here for a while, waiting for one of my husband’s colleagues. He works at a nearby high-tech scientific installation which will soon be dismissing its employees for the day.

It’s 5:00 o’clock, and the lab workers file out of the simple, modern building, about seven stories tall. I am with a woman who has just had a baby. She resembles an artist friend. She is obviously thrilled with her baby, and at first all seems okay; but it soon becomes clear that the baby is still physically attached to her mother—through the mother’s hand. They share capillaries. Then the shocker: we realize the baby has died.

Some medical technicians come and take the baby away. They wrap the baby in newspaper secured with twine; they throw her off a dump truck into a garbage bin. I am appalled. Why wasn’t the baby returned to the family for a respectful and loving funeral?

Back to the mother: She is now attended by her sister, a plain-looking German woman with short cropped strawberry blond hair. The sister is very upset and doesn’t feel the mother is adequately distraught. I know the mother is upset, but in a less effusive way than her sister. I put my arm around the German woman and walk her a few steps away, trying both to comfort her and to keep her from making a bad situation worse.

Interpretation: In the beginning of the dream I am in an intuitive, unconscious state (the sea, the dunes). But progress soon asserts itself in the form of a road, sidewalk, bus stop, and high-tech laboratory. This symbolically plots my early life, my personal progress between the ages of five and seven, which are the two numbers in the dream. During this time I moved from the idyll of a happy 5-year-old child living in a beautiful rural setting to the challenge of starting school and being subjected to the discipline and socialization that entails. At this age we still hold our mother’s hand. That the baby is not completely detached from the mother reflects the wrench that I felt on starting this new phase of life.

Then the dream veers into the present. How do I know? The mother resembles one of my current artist friends: this tells me the issue here is not entirely in the past. The baby, representing my authentic artist self at a critical juncture of my life (between 5 and 7), is carted away by technicians (the school system) and dumped. The dead baby’s crude disposal reminds me of a scene from the movie Amadeus. When Mozart dies he is given a pauper’s burial. The reusable casket opens at one end like a dump truck and his unsheltered body thuds into an open pit, a common grave. How could my baby artist expect any better?

The mother (my adult artist, the compromiser) accepts the death of her own potential with an equanimity that baffles her sister, the German woman, whose geographical proximity to the home of the Austrian Mozart tells me her opinion is important. But in my role as Dream Ego, I try my best to shut her up and keep her from making waves.

Yet again, the voice that seems most difficult in my dream is the one I need to listen to.