Making Waves

Dream image: A low wave.

Interpretation: Water represents the unconscious, so this dream tells me that some unconscious material has come to the surface (consciousness), but not in a way that’s intrusive, scary, or even very noticeable. Looking at past dreams with similar imagery, I contrast this with a series of tsunami dreams I once had. My unconscious doesn’t think it has to shout as loud as it once did to get my attention.

Notice: A Santa Cruz, CA Workshop

Marsha Hudson has several spots left in her Santa Cruz dream workshop, scheduled for October 2. This workshop is designed for people who would like to deepen the connection between their dreams and their creative expression. In addition to the projective method of dream interpretation (that is, each member of the group comments on the presented dream as if it were her own), Marsha uses drawing, writing, moving, singing, and theater to go into the dream more deeply. Marsha says, “I love facilitating this workshop because it becomes so wonderfully meditative and nourishing.”

Marsha Hudson, Ph.D. is a certified dream work facilitator, social activist, and writer. She has studied projective dream work with Jeremy Taylor and is a member of the International Association for the Study of Dreams. Dr. Hudson holds a doctorate in comparative literature from UC Berkeley and is co-editor of The Berkeley Literary Women's Revolution: Essays from Marsha's Salon (MacFarland, 2005.)

The one-day seminar costs $75.00 and is limited to 10 participants.  For more information: telephone: 831-425-8167 or e-mail: email mnhudson@pacbell.net. And if you attend, tell me and my readers about the experience: make a comment at the end of this post. (You’ll be able to find it in the Archive.)

Guest Dreamer: The Light and the Dark

This dream was donated by BostonBabe, who provides us with both a context and an interpretation for her dream. She has asked for my comments as well, so I’ll add them at the end of the post.

The Context: Nine months ago, I left my corporate job to devote time to my own creative work. Eight days ago, I held an open house in my home to show my recent work, the first public viewing of my art in five years. Two days ago, I spent the afternoon with an artist and his wife (a former colleague). I was introduced to artist friends of theirs, saw the husband’s recent work, and was given some guidance on the business of art. That night, I had some disturbing dreams.

Three Dream Fragments:

1. A piece entitled Floor Lamp, the first piece in my show--to the left as you enter the gallery--lies in disarray. It has fallen off its shelf and lies on its side on the floor, damaged. The art books that were carefully arranged in a pyramiding stack under the shelf are also in disarray scattered about the floor. Needless to say, this was upsetting.
2. Out of necessity, I have gathered up some essential belongings and am holed up in the back seat of my car, which is parked outside my house. My house is isolated on a dark, lonely street. As I look towards the end of the road (to the right as you face the house), I see the entrance to a dark woods. I am frightened.
3. This dream is the most fragmentary: A man is dying very, very slowly.  Not painfully, or sadly, but in a very slow process. 

 BostonBabe’s Interpretation: On one level, the danger captured in these fragments is from my inner critic, who goes back to my father.  I think the stubborn persistence of the inner critic in my psyche is captured in dream  Fragment 3. The destruction in dream Fragment 1 may be my inner critic's response to the "audacity" of claiming to create work that is founded on centuries of art history (represented by the piled up art books) -- the "audacity" of claiming my place as an artist. As for dream Fragment 2, I think I am concerned, not only about managing my inner critic, but also about the couple I visited right before the dreams -- can I trust them? Do they have my best interests at heart? Do I need to protect my self? Will I lose control of my life? Anxiety about becoming more visible to the "serious" art community may have influenced this fragment, as well my concern to protect my creative core.

Carla:  Since interpretations of others’ dreams—as well as of their words or deeds, for that matter—are projections, I will take BostonBabe’s dream on as my own in these comments. My take on it may or may not be true for BB.

Spiraling roots

Dream image: A plant, with its roots spiraling down into the earth.

Interpretation: This dream was inspired by a similar one I heard at a dream group meeting the evening before and also by a painting that I had been working on of Pomona, who represents the fruits of the earth. The dream expresses how I feel about our deeply important connection to the earth.

A Bossy Woman

The Dream: A stout and bossy woman, in an office, is talking too loud. She is promoting some sort of “help” she pedals to groups. At first it sounds interesting, and I wonder if she might be a good speaker for a women’s group I belong to. I try--again and again--to ask if she would like to do this, but she won’t let me get a word in. Her over-loud voice is embarrassing, and her bossy manner and unwillingness to listen, annoying. Finally I just want her to go away. She exits to the left.

Interpretation: In my last posted dream it looked as though I were reconciling conflicting parts: the stay-at-home femininity of my youth with the woman-active-in-the-world of my adulthood. But just as I thought progress was being made a shadow figure emerges to let me know that I haven’t finished. And she wants to be heard! (She's very loud.) Jung says shadow figures contain parts of ourselves that we dislike and don’t want to acknowledge. I push this bossy, embarrassing creature back down into the unconscious (she exits to the left). Want to bet she’ll be back?

Exposed: Part 3

The Dream: I go into the subway. I order some tokens and need to go to the left of the counter to pick them up. I pick up a pile containing far more than I paid for and wonder if I should return the extras. As in the last dream segment, I decide not to “do the right thing.”

I see my Aunt Mary, dressed as a gypsy, collecting money for the poor. I give her some change but take back one of my tokens that inadvertently fell into her basket. I ask her for the key to her apartment so I can put on some clothes. She gives it to me, saying Uncle Mike will be there.

Interpretation: My unconscious (the subway) is activated to solve the problem put forth in the earlier segments of this dream: what is my role as a woman in today's complex society?  How do I bring together the role of women modeled by my mother and reinforced by my 50s childhood with the enormous societal change realized by the women of my generation? I “go to the left” or, in dream terms, I don’t try to resolve this rationally. Dreams allow –even insist on – paradox. I don’t have to reject my mother’s path to follow my own.  I accept the “tokens” offered by the “left” (unconscious), with its sly suggestion that I am not doing the “right” thing.

I see my aunt (my mother’s sister: that is, my mother) in a new way. (She gets some change.) At the same time I hang on to the “token” of my new self. She gives me the key (her acceptance) to recovering my sense of worth, symbolized by the clothes I will put on in her apartment. And an animus figure, my uncle, will be waiting for me there, signaling that my psyche will be better balanced between feminine and masculine.

Exposed: Part 2

The Dream: I see what I perceive to be a public monument, although it is only a rectangular concrete box, sitting in a tree. I lean against the box, dislodging it so that it falls out of the tree onto the ground next to a bicycle. I check the bike, and it doesn’t seem to have been damaged. I think I should report this to someone, but instead slink guiltily away not taking the blame for what I’ve done.

Interpretation: My interaction with the public monument tells me that I am ill at ease in the social arena. First of all, I see it as monumental, a synonym for massive and weighty. It’s concrete into the bargain. Oddly, it’s sitting in a tree, a symbol of growth. It falls out of the tree, endangering the bike, a mode of transportation – my means of getting away. By leaning against the tree and dislodging the monument I have sabotaged my means of escape – but wait – the bike is not damaged.  And yet I can’t escape on it; I feel too guilty.

Why the guilt? I don’t want to accept the limitations placed on my life by the society I live in. When I dislodge these (the massive public monument) I am faced with a conundrum which leaves me unable to go forward. If I reject these limitations, I am a traitor: I reject my mother’s life and, by association, my mother.