A Failed Artist

The Dream: I'm with my mother and two friends. We start to head up to my walk-up apartment. As we are climbing the stairs I say to my mother, “I guess you're wondering why I always live in a 5th floor walk-up?” I mean this as a joke on the effort the stairs require, but it's not actually a negative to me. “Not at all,” says my mother. “It's because you are a failed artist.”

I'm stung by this, but don't feel I can deny the truth of it. I would have preferred she acknowledge the accomplishment of what I've achieved—a certain level of skill, undeniably--than to focus on my utter lack of commercial success. Then too, I don't think commercial success is what I'm after. Nevertheless, I see the career building strategies of a successful artist friend in a new light. It least she isn't seen as a failure.

Mother collapses onto the floor, and I'm afraid the effort of climbing the stairs has given her a heart attack. I bend over her, very concerned, but not ready to call the paramedics: her color looks good and I think she'll snap out of it. I feel, once the crisis has past, that I owe my friends an explanation. “I've been through this so many times before,” I say.

My friends give me gifts. One is a fused glass piece, a tube sprouting a plant. It's roots are in the tube; an exotic flower drapes out.

Interpretation: Ha! My conundrum in a nutshell: one part of me, the internalized critical mother, wants to know why I'm not a commercial success. In our culture money equals value, and if you can't show a profit you and your product must be worthless. Another part, the one that is happy to live on a higher level and doesn't mind the difficulty that entails, sees my art making as a spiritual practice and has no interest in monetizing it, only wants a bit of recognition for what she's accomplished. My critical mother collapses from the effort of the ascent, but I know she'll revive. After all, I've been through this many times.

The friends, protectors of my calling, give me a work of art: nature transformed into a glass object that could last--or might just as easily break.

Not Ready to Go

The Dream: I am at the airport. The plane is at the gate. Its interior has only a few seats; it seems truncated, for example, only the first class section. Yet it feels spacious; the seats are white leather. No one is on the plane—no crew, no passengers, no gate keepers even. I decide to use the toilet but find I can’t go. After a while I must have produced a little something so I decide to flush. Immediately I feel this would be a mistake because the toilets are like train toilets and will flush directly onto the tarmac, which might not be too pleasant for those loading the plane. I stay on the toilet for a while, trying to produce more output and having very little success.

At last I leave the toilet and as I open the door I encounter a maintenance man who had been patiently waiting to clean the room. I’m embarrassed and apologize; he seems long suffering. Had I known he was there I would have cut short my visit.

Grace Kelly’s Pendant

The Dream: I am in a large discount store with my daughter. We see a necklace pendant that is modeled on one worn by Grace Kelly. It costs $60,000. After we have left the store I realize that my daughter, who is about 3 or 4, has stolen the pendant. I feel I should return it, but I’m torn: after all, it appears we did get away with it. Nevertheless, I return the jewelry.

Interpretation:  There’s something from my past that I tend to ignore (discount), but that nevertheless is part of me (it’s stored). This thing that I have discounted is very valuable ($60,000.00). Its previous owner, Grace Kelly, gives me a clue as to what that might be: my desire for success, fame, fortune, and celebrity.  My child part is perfectly happy to take a short cut to get what I want: she steals it. I’m very tempted to acquiesce in this childish crime, but my adult intervenes in time, and I return the jewelry.

Here’s an example where Jane Teresa Anderson's dream alchemy might serve me well. (There’s a post in the April archive that describes her technique.) In this case, I'll imagine myself having an extra $60,000.00 as the result of my hard work and ability. I'll envision myself going into the store and using this money to buy the pendant (my success), saying, “I’ve earned this and I’m going to enjoy it.”

I’ll try it and let you know how it goes!