No Light at the End of the Tunnel

The Dream: Dettie and I are at the underground entrance to a NYC subway. She has a token and goes through the turnstile and down the escalator to the platform. I realize I have no money. I set down my large purse, at the same time noticing a lost-and-found-box containing cash and other items that people have left on the train, open to all with no oversight. I think, after a little ethical quavering, that it's probably okay if I “borrow” some of the money to buy a token. I feel a little guilty, but climb up to the box—it's a bit of a stretch—and help myself to a small amount of cash. In some part of my mind I am surprised that the money hasn't all disappeared.

I take the money to the ticket booths; the one to the left is closed, and the agent in the middle booth ignores me. I'm getting anxious about finding Dettie with all this delay. Then I notice an available agent to the right: I had 't been aware of him. He is a very affable black man and while I don't have enough money for a return, he sells me a one-way token.

As I approach the turnstile I realize my bag is missing. I feel very uneasy about this, thinking about my credit cards and how I should have made a list of them. I try to remember which membership cards were in my purse. This will be a mess to sort out; I hope Clark can help me.

I descend the escalator and my surroundings become darker and darker. When I reach the platform I look for Dettie, but she's nowhere to be seen. I had been counting on her to loan me money for the return trip. The platform is deserted, very dark, and no trains appear to be running. After a while I decide to try a different level, thinking I must be on the wrong track. I turn to go, and things become even darker until it's pitch black. I become frightened and decide to go back up.

I climb a long flight of stairs. At the top is a closed door with a window. The door is locked. I bang and bang on it, yelling “Help!” until I'm afraid my voice will go. A man appears—I see his face silhouetted against the door's window. He has a mustache and looks creepy, like something out of a surrealist's work. I think that if he opens the door it will be to rape me, not to help. I awaken in terror.

Interpretation: Jung warns us that encountering the unconscious is a fearsome project, and this dream verifies it. My friend's name is the key to this dream: “Dettie” evokes both death and debt. As I begin my descent into the underworld of the unconscious I grapple with feeling inadequate: I have no money (worth), but I might be able to retrieve some if I'm willing to take a chance and reach higher. It's interesting that I have an ethical difficulty in giving myself what I need: I don't feel entitled to take it. But even when I do my problems are not over. I have enough money to embark on my journey, but not enough to return. I lose my purse with its membership and credit cards (I'm totally alone; I'll get no credit in the future). I call on my animus to save the situation, but the male figure who appears is another threat, not a savior. I go lower and lower, facing my darkest fears: my vulnerability, my worthlessness and my mortality. My vision is so narrow (tunnel like) that I can't see a way out.

Is Anatomy Destiny?

The Dream: I am at a dance with Clark. Women are wearing décolleté gowns that remind me of Anna's ballgown in The King and I. A man places a wine bottle into the neckline of a woman's dress; I wonder if it will fall out. Soon afterward as I bend forward I notice my nipple protruding from my own low cut gown. Soon my partner and I are having sex, during the dance, fully clothed. He says, “I almost came as I entered,” at the same time that I am thinking, “I won't be able to have an orgasm in this position.”

Interpretation: I'm not in the right place (out in public) or in the right position to achieve the release I'm desiring. I feel exposed (my nipple protrudes). I associate femininity with providing nourishment, but also with something else: what does the wine bottle represent? Dionysian exuberance or numbness? The bottle is in a precarious position where it's been thrust by an unknown male, just as patriarchy thrusts its insistence that women nurture even as we try to dance. The sex, or union, that results in this situation can hardly be satisfactory. The dream tells me that I must have the inner strength to define my own role, to create my own position. It's time to stop wearing the clothes of a previous era.

Through a Glass Darkly

The Dream: I'm wandering through the streets of New York with a partner who seems somewhat--but not quite--like my husband Clark. The sidewalks are interspersed with trees; they remind me of Manhattan's East 60s, near where I once lived. It is early autumn. We are looking for Uncle Steve, and there is something mysterious about the mission. He has relocated and won't tell anyone where he is.

We go into a large old-fashioned apartment building, dimly lit with wide hallways. We know he's here. The door of his apartment is half frosted glass. We knock. He doesn't answer. Clark bangs loudly and assertively on the door. Finally Uncle Steve answers, not by opening the door but by yelling at us. He wants to be left alone.

Interpretation: My uncle's birthday was a few days ago; he died in the early 80s. His death is indeed a relocation. I'm looking for someone to tell me what awaits on the other side of the door. The door's frosted glass tells me, in the obscure and poetic language of the King James Bible, that spiritual truths are glimpsed “through a glass darkly.” In a recent dream class the idea was offered that if you ask your spirit guide the wrong question s/he won't answer, and also that the departed must volunteer for the job. It doesn't appear that Uncle Steve wants this one.

Looking at the dream's more mundane possibilities, my uncle was one of the authoritative adults when I was a child. How many questions does a child have that are left unanswered? Or responded to with anger?

The Rescued Baby

The Dream: I'm on an escalator, of the sort that is stacked one on top of the next like a stairwell in a very tall building. I am with my mother. The feeling of the place is something like a combination of a department store and the stairwell of the Brooklyn apartment my mother grew up in.

I am unaware that I have a baby until it jumps across the stair rail, heading for a steep and deadly fall, down so many stories that I can't see the bottom. I think my reaction time will be too slow to save her—but even as I have this thought I've reached out my hand and grabbed her by the legs, bringing her back to safety. She's about 7 inches tall, tiny and more like a doll than a baby. I'm very relieved to have saved her; I holler her name in relief and vexation.

Interpretation: My husband Clark and I have been listening to a philosophy course on “the meaning of life.” The course insists that “spontaneity” is essential to a meaningful life (probably because most philosophers so lack the quality). The dream deals with the age (7) at which my own spontaneity was curtailed by coming up against the requirements of my 2nd grade teacher that I sit down and—more important—shut up. Having lost my battle with the establishment I reformed and by the third grade had become a model student.

The little figure who is ready to jump to her doom (my spontaneous self) is rescued by the part of me who doesn’t think she has it in her (doubts her reaction time will be fast enough). The truly spontaneous part acts even before the thought is finished—so this dream might point to a positive development: that adult spontaneity—strong, purposefully doing the right thing—can rescue the child spontaneity that lacks judgment and foresight. Mother lurks in the background but plays no other role.

Hit in the I

The Dream: I am rushing out of a building on the way to a dental appointment. There are some odd metal boxes, each with a drawer, in the lobby. I leave the building, picking up one of the boxes on my way out. As I'm going down the front steps, a Mexican girl comes running after me. I understand that she has left a book in the box. She is sitting on one of the steps and stretches out her hand to reach the drawer. As I turn, trying to make it easier for her to open the drawer, the corner of the box strikes her in the forehead. I am very sorry and apologize profusely. Here I was, trying to help, but instead I've hurt her.

We chat for a while and she accepts my apology. Then I realize the corner of the box hit her eye, not her forehead. The eye is red but doesn't appear to be damaged other than superficially. I am upset, but after a while I tire of feeling guilty. I begin to wonder if I had been wrong to apologize: would this open me to a lawsuit? “No,” I think. “The girl's too simple for that. Besides, she doesn't know my name.” I rush off for my dental appointment.

Interpretation: The earthier more basic part of me, as represented by the foreign (Mexican) girl wants an education—there's something she needs to know--(the book), and I (the ego) try to help her. In so doing a blow to the eye (I) occurs. So, as parts of the unconscious become educated, as they come to consciousness, difficulties and complexities are created for the conscious ego. I'm having trouble keeping things “in the box.” (The drawer slides out of its container.) The eye (I) is red (angry). I end up discounting this part of myself: she's too simple; she doesn't know who I am. I rush off for an appointment that never takes place.

Taxi

The Dream: I'm in a taxi with my mother. The driver is a very sweet and intelligent older man,who I assume is working beneath his station. He's very patient and chatty, friendly. I think he has this job as a way of meeting people. At some point I realize I've lost something and search frantically through my purse.

Interpretation: I'm with my mother in this dream, and the taxi driver stands in for my feeling that she worked “beneath her station.” In other words, I felt my mother never had a chance to demonstrate her many talents and abilities in the larger world. And perhaps she did “drive” her children as a compensation for her own frustrated ambition. The driver's patience, chattiness, and friendliness line up with some of her other traits: she drove us in the nicest possible way. With her death I lost her, and the sense of purpose she instilled might be the thing I am frantically searching for.

A Crown of Thornes

The Dream: Clark is getting his teeth worked on. The dentist is very casual, but reasonably priced. He seems old-fashioned. Clark has a tooth crowned, and the procedure doesn't look too bad. He needs to have another capped and is waffling. I ask the dentist if the procedure will be similar to the one he just finished, hoping he'll say yes so that Clark will be reassured and get on with it. But the dentist indicates it will be worse. The second tooth is not fixed.

Interpretation: In any long standing marriage there will be on-going differences in the way we approach problems. This dream is telling me that while I think I know what's best for my husband—and while what I'm pushing for might be the inevitable right choice (getting the tooth crowned)--what I'm not understanding is how much pain, for him, is involved in doing this thing.