Feeling Fear

Dream:

I am with a man. He is my friend and I like him. But then somehow I am lying face down on a bed and he lies on top of me. He is much bigger than me. At first its ok but then he won’t get up. He is heavy and he is squishing me. I start getting scared. I can’t move. Now I’m getting so scared and claustrophobic. I beg him to please get off of me. I ask him nicely. I say – please can you get off of me? He will not get off. I can’t believe that he won’t. I thought he was my friend. I am so, so scared and panicked. I keep begging and begging.

The fear is huge. To be held down with that much pressure on me is terrifying. This dream confuses me. It feels like this divine archetypal man, the Animus, is torturing me. Why would he do that?

As we talk about the dream, Rodger helps me to see that the Animus is helping me to feel my own feeling of terror that is always with me, underneath the surface. It’s a feeling that has been there for a long time and I need to feel it. We need to feel feelings in order to move through them. It is scary and difficult but the dream is here to help me feel it.

In the dream, I am unable to surrender to him and just feel the fear. I beg him to get off of me. I react more with anger when he doesn’t. I want to be in control of him, tell him what to do. But that very need for control is keeping me from feeling the fear. He forces me into this vulnerable position so that I will feel it.

My homework is to feel the fear and the pressure when he lies on top of me. I am not to go to the place of reaction where I ask him to get off – just stay with the feeling of terror when his body is pressing down, pinning me there.

This dream touches on a place within me that feels helpless. And with that helplessness is fear. To let go of control and feel that is very difficult for me.

In my waking life, I am feeling helpless. Both of my daughters have recently developed medical conditions that are complicated and confusing. I want to be able to control everything about it. I want to be in charge. I want to get the right diagnosis, the right doctors, find the right diet, get the right medications. There is a certain amount that I can do. But there is quite a bit that is beyond my control. I am having trouble trusting anyone – even our family doctor that I’ve trusted forever. This brings up tremendous fear for me. I am like any other parent wanting to do the best I can for my children. That being said, I have an opportunity to understand that I am not in control. There is something much bigger than me controlling this. When I feel the fear of what is going on, it is like I am being pinned, trapped like I felt in the dream. Ultimately, I don’t have control and that is terrifying. Getting to the place of trust, trust of the Animus and knowing that he is in control and not me is a big part of my work right now.

Dream Dyad

Dream:

I am with a woman who has a device that sprays water. She is showing me how she sprays it to clean walls and things in a house. She hands it to me and says I can try it too. There is a dirty area over a door and I begin to spray it. It starts to clean the wall. I realize that once I start spraying, the process will be never ending and so I stop and tell her I don’t want to spray it anymore. Now I am next to some water. There is a little 2 or 3 year old girl on the edge who is getting ready to swim in the water. I think that she is too young to swim. I ask the lady how old the girl is (I assumed it was her daughter) and she says, “I don’t know.”

Dreams offer images, scenes and feelings to help us see how we are living. A dyad in a dream can show us opposing places within is. It is an opportunity to see and feel how we are living our life and how we could be living our life.

My homework that came from this dream dyad is to imagine going between spraying the water to clean the wall and then being the little girl standing on the edge of the water, ready to jump in.

In the dream, the minute I start spraying the water I get this heavy feeling in my gut. It’s a feeling like – oh I can see where this is going… the wall is getting really clean but then there will be another one and another one. There is no end to it. It’s a sinking feeling and it’s a familiar feeling to me. In the dream I tell the woman I don’t want to spray any more. I am feeling that in my life as well.

As I do the homework, I feel that sinking - in my gut feeling which is contrasted with the feeling of excitement of being on the edge, next to the water. The little girl is my soul self, that part of me that is ready to jump in the water. The dreamwork is helping me to recover this girl. Part of helping me to recover her is the process of showing me how I lose her. I lose her when I go this sinking – in the gut feeling.

The Cut:

Dream homework can help us see where certain feelings manifest in our life. As we experience the same feelings in our waking life, it is called “the cut.” I feel the sinking – in my gut feeling when I look at my never ending “to do” lists: my house that needs to be cleaned, laundry that piles up, appointments that need to be made, dinner that needs to be made, bills that need to be paid, and probably the biggest one of all… trying to manage other people’s lives. It can feel so overwhelming. The feeling of spraying the water in the dream matches the feeling I often have in my life. This feeling is the opposite of the excitement of the girl who is ready to jump in the water. In the dream I tell the woman – No. I don’t want to spray the water anymore. The same thing is happening in my life. Of course, the house needs to be cleaned, laundry needs to be done, dinner needs to be made etc. etc. but maybe it doesn’t have to be done perfectly. Maybe I can delegate some of it. Maybe it doesn’t always have to be done at all. And maybe I don’t have to manage everyone else’s lives.

As I let go of spraying the water, the excitement of my soul girl will have a chance to emerge. There are places in my life where I can feel that excitement emerging. In the dream I think the girl is too young to swim. In worrying about her, I can not become her. I think that the woman in the dream is the girl’s mother but I am mistaken. The woman who is busy cleaning and who feels that sinking feeling can’t know this girl. Now when I feel that uneasy sinking feeling in my gut, I know that it is time to stop spraying the water. It is time to stand in the excitement as the girl, ready to jump into the water.

 

Fluidity

Some days feel pointless. I wake up and I wonder what I am doing. I get this hopeless sense that life is meaningless.  When I am in this place, I feel like it is going to stay that way. I feel stuck. It feels like there is nobody or no thing that will ever be able to pull me out of it.

Dream:

I am sitting alone in a broken down old car. There is a hole in the floor of the car where my bare feet are sticking through to the sand underneath.

The dream reflects the truth of that part of me that sometimes feels hopeless and stuck. But there is hope because I also know what it feels like to be in a place that is the opposite of stuck. A place where I can feel a sense of movement or fluidity.

A week after my father died, I was swimming in the ocean. The water was warm and felt like silk on my skin. I stayed in the water for a long, long time. My feelings moved through me as the water flowed around me. I felt sadness melt into wonder as pelicans swooped down low and then delightful surprise as a dolphin swam within an arms length of me.

It is curious to me that a person can live in such different states of being. Being stuck vs. being in a state of fluidity. Dreams like this one can help us see when we are stuck. Dreams can also help us move towards a more fluid way of being.

I experienced this sense of fluidity during my string* at a dreamwork retreat in October. Strings between my dreams connected feelings of fear, pain and joy. With the connection, I was able to move between these feelings seamlessly. There was a feeling of fluidity similar to what I felt in the ocean that day. When I feel that, it feels easy, normal – like that is exactly how it is supposed to feel. The energy flows easily and it feels limitless.

But still, I often feel stuck. The word stagnant comes to mind.

A quick google search gives this:

1. Not moving or flowing; motionless

2. Foul or stale from standing

3. Showing little or no sign of activity or advancement; not developing or progressing; inactive

4. Lacking vitality or briskness; sluggish or dull

Yes, that’s it! Stagnant. That is what I often feel and have felt off an on for years. All of the above. Stagnant is a familiar place for me. I remember times as a young girl, sitting on my bed staring out the window. I felt a tug inside me because I knew I wanted to do more; be more. But so often I’d sit there paralyzed, not knowing what else to do – just as I did in the dream with the broken down old car.

Somewhere along the line I lost the divine connection to my soul self. Dreamwork has opened me up to a taste of what it feels like to have this free flowing energy and fluidity.  I believe that this fluidity is my true default, not stagnation. Stagnation has been a persistent pathology of mine. I’ve had it for many years and apparently it is not going to give up easily.  But there is a deep longing within my soul that won’t give up either. It’s that same tug I had inside of me as a young girl. The force of that tug won’t let up. It comes from a flowing place full of energy where stagnation cannot exist. Stagnant water cannot exist when flowing water moves through it just as darkness can no longer exist when a light is turned on.

Metaphor can bring us to a deeper place of understanding through the imagination. The metaphor of stagnant and flowing water helps me to imagine what might be true about myself. When I am in this pathological stuck place, I am in the stagnant water on the surface. It’s a stale place, lacking vitality. But I can sense that just underneath the surface, the water is flowing with amazing energy. One way for me to start to access the moving water underneath is to drop into my feelings. Dreams are an invitation to feel. Dream homework is our chance to bring the feelings into waking life. When I imagine the dream scene from my homework, I drop into the feeling in my heart to sense it. This is like dipping down below the stagnant water and feeling what is there. It may be a feeling that I am resisting – like pain or sadness. But with the feeling, there is movement. This is fluidity. 

*string

At Archetypal Dreamwork retreats, actual pieces of string are often used to signify the connections between dreams. Because of the use of strings, the acting out of dreams with their connections is referred to as a “string.”  See northofeden.com for more information.

A Poem

Like dreams, poems have a certain mystery to them for me. My Dad loved poems. He felt the mystery of them too. A couple of years ago, I was looking for ways to connect with Dad so I took a poetry class. One day, I invited him along and that opened up something new between us. I loved that connection we had developed. But as my Dad progressed with his illness, I felt more unsure of how to “be” with him. His disease was an awful one (Pulmonary Fibrosis), slowly taking away his ability to breathe and to function. It was very hard to see him suffer. I wanted to let him know I loved him but I didn’t know how. We didn’t have the kind of relationship where we would openly express love for each other.

During this time period, I had a dream.

There is a little holding place across the street from my parents’ house. People are there, waiting to go see Dad. The mood is somber because we all know he will die soon. I realize that it is time for me to face the fact that he really is going to die. We are sitting there in the room and I feel my face contorting as I begin to cry. I realize that the others can see me crying but I don’t go to cover up my face. I just cry there in front of them with the sadness of it.

The dream clearly pointed out my predicament. I was in a “holding place,” feeling deep sadness but unsure of what to do next. Rodger helped me see that it was time to leave the “holding place” and just go be with my Dad. I am grateful for that encouragement because that is what I did. Instead of staying in the “holding place”, waiting for holidays or family get-togethers, I just went to sit and be with my Dad. One day I hugged him good-bye and “I love you” just slipped out. Although in some families, it is normal to exchange these words, it was not something that we did. And so it surprised and delighted me when I said it. It was a tender moment. A new one that had come from a deep place from inside of both of us. From that moment on, I was able to openly tell Dad I loved him and he was able to say it to me as well. It is something I will always be grateful for.

Even so, there was more that I wanted to say to Dad. Last February, he and Mom traveled to Florida. As Valentine’s Day approached I had a sweet memory of how special I felt as a girl when he would make me a home-made valentine; a construction paper heart with a little rhyme written in it. And then it hit me – I would write a Valentine’s poem to Dad and send it to him in Florida.

I am a complete novice when it comes to writing poetry. Even so, somehow I knew that I would be able to do it. As I sat down to write, I felt tears come to my eyes as I thought of how much Dad’s illness had taken from him but I also felt the joy of what he had given to me. As I wrote, the words just seemed to come. They spilled out of me, in the same way that “I love you” had spilled out on that day a few months before.

On Valentines Day

When I was a girl

You'd write me a rhyme

Now that I'm grown

It's my time

What I have to share

Is more than just words

It feels like wonder

Like the singing of birds

Although we've lived years

We are never all grown

Without knowing it

On the way you have shown

There is so much to treasure

So much beauty to seek

Right under our nose

A minnow in the creek

A fox in the wild

A shore bird in flight

Sweet summer corn

Stars in the night

The world is so full

There's much to discover

Books are doors

That help us uncover

Life is a mystery

I know we agree

Its answers go deep

More than we can see

In so many ways

Life can feel like a foe

Still we move through

And we learn how to grow

Life throws us a curve

That we just can't believe

What has been lost

Is something we grieve

Your hurt is my hurt

Though it may not always show

It’s hard to find the words

That, I want you to know

But there is something you have

That can cut through the pain

A Love so deep and wide

Is for us to gain

We are given this Gift

Just for existing

Our only job

Is to stop resisting

So as I sit here

On this Valentine’s Day

I send my love

And to God I do pray

---

I sent the poem to Dad and I waited. We had never shared like this with each other before and I felt vulnerable. What if it was too much? How would he respond?

Mom and Dad returned from Florida in time to celebrate what would be Dad’s last birthday. Over the past year, Dad had initiated a new tradition at family gatherings. Poetry reading. He would bring a poem to read and other family members shared poems as well. It was uncharacteristic for our family to share in this new way, but everyone seemed to embrace and look forward to this new activity. On this day, Dad took out his poem to share. It was the one I had sent him. It touched me to hear him read what I had written for him. Later on he told me how much the poem meant to him and that he would read it over and over again.

Poems still feel mysterious to me, including the one I wrote for Dad. I read it again now and I wonder exactly how it came to be. Like dreams, perhaps poems can be thought of as vehicles to help take us out of that “holding place” and into a place of deeper connection.

Sorrow and Joy

Len "Jiggs" Talley at the 2010 4th of July celebration, Virginia Beach, Va

“The deeper the sorrow, the greater the joy.”

-William Blake

Over the past few weeks I’ve felt deep sorrow and great joy. Deep sorrow and grief were expected but I did not know that I could also feel joy in the wake of the death of my father.

On the day that Dad died, our family gathered to comfort each other and grieve together. We held each other and we cried. My sister and I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning weeping for hours as we drank wine together. The depth of our grief seemed limitless. The next day I was miserable, hungover from grief and wine. The sorrow stayed with me up until the day of the funeral. What happened after the funeral was unexpected. Hundreds of people came to the service and afterwards, members of my family greeted each one. I felt the genuine love of those who loved my father and of those who love me. They looked into my eyes with tears of compassion. They hugged me with warmth and love. We stood there for well over an hour, but time stood still as we took in the overwhelming outpouring of love and compassion. When the last person walked away I noticed an uplifted, joyful feeling in my heart. Family and friends met back at our house to gather once again. I walked in to find the place filled with food, drink and flowers – something that my dear neighbors had set up for us. The mood was light as we talked of the wonderful service, and the outpouring of love and support. My sister-in-law Bette brought some music to share; Lyle Lovett’s song about a funeral, “Since the Last Time.” [click here] She mentioned that Dad couldn’t help but start dancing when she had played it for him one day last year. That was not surprising. Dad loved to dance. We were all listening as the song played. It started off slowly. The lyrics were great. We were laughing. As the tempo sped up, Mike, Meg (my brother and sister) and I started moving. We couldn’t stop ourselves. No doubt, we have inherited Dad’s love of dancing. The three of us moved close to each other as we danced. It was like we were in another world there, just the three of us. We held our hands together and raised them up as we cried together with grief and joy, singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” Our faces held close as our tears and breath mixed, singing out in gratefulness and in joy for our father’s life and our own lives.

We welcomed the joy we felt in the midst of our grief. And somehow we knew that Dad was there, dancing right along with us that day. My hope is that along with the sadness of missing our Dad here in the physical world, we can continue to dance and to feel the joy of his presence.

9-11

I’m outside on a tour in New York City. The tour guide is talking about remembering the firefighters. I am sitting next to a girl (we are in our 20s or so) and we both burst into tears. We turn our heads toward each other, touching them and cry and cry at the memory of 9-11 and the firefighters who lost their lives. The crying comes unexpectedly but it feels good. I can feel the wet tears coming from my eyes and I realize I am crying real tears. I feel a strong connection to the girl sitting next to me as we hold our heads together and weep.

Do you remember what you were doing when you learned about the horror of  9-11? I do. I was making phone calls, trying to find neighbors to help with our annual block party. I’d heard about the planes crashing into the World Trade Center and had turned on the TV to view those early images as the story unfolded. It is hard to admit this …. but I was more concerned with the block party task than I was about the horrific events that were transpiring. I called my neighbor Jackie to see if she would be in charge of the kids’ games. I’ll never forget that conversation. Clearly shaken by the events in New York City, she was barely able to speak. I am sure that she must have been confused by my phone call. Was I really in the midst of planning the block party at that moment? As I hung up the phone I knew there was something odd about my reaction, or rather my non-reaction to the events that morning. That day I realized that there was something missing in me. Where was my ability to feel?

9-11 changed us as a country. It also changed me personally. It was subtle at first – like knowing there was something “off” about my reaction that morning. As the television coverage continued to sear those terrible images into all of our brains, something began stirring in me. I became extremely restless inside. As the reality of the horror of the events of 9-11 started sinking in, the reality that I was missing a connection to something deeper also sunk in. In my restlessness, over the next few years, I turned to books, spirituality groups, lectures – anything that might lead me to some kind of connection or understanding. I wrote furiously in my personal journal, asking questions, wanting answers. Years went by as I lived with this background of restless unease. One night, a devastating dream woke me out of a deep sleep. The feeling was so incredibly strong that I could not shake it. I can feel it again now as I write. Although the feeling was deep devastation, it felt good in a way. It felt good to feel. It dawned on me at that time that my dreams were desperately trying to get through to me. Finally I was ready to listen and so I began the dreamwork.  Here I am, two years later and the dreams are still finding ways to get me to feel. As the young woman in this dream, I can finally feel the devastation of the events of  9-11. I can feel it more in the dream than I did when it happened. I “practice” feeling in this dream noticing that I am crying “real” tears. The dream shows me the capacity I have for a deeper level of feeling that I can experience in my waking life.

At the top level, this dream is showing me a new, more feeling way to experience the events of  9-11 but the dream has an “underneath” layer as well. Ultimately, this dream is about the deep sadness of my feeling of loss from Him, the Animus, who often comes in dreams as a firefighter. I need to feel the loss and the longing of Him before I can feel His love. God’s love. As I discussed in Completing the Circuit, my longing for God is something I know but often shy away from mentioning. What is my hesitation?  Part of me is judgmental of others that seem to be “too” religious. Those that talk about God “too much” can rub me the wrong way. And so perhaps that is why I hold back, fearing that I might be judged that way as well. It’s like I have an argument inside myself. One side says – go ahead and mention God, it is the truth of what you are feeling. The other side says – don’t talk about God. Bringing God into the dreamwork discussion seems like too much. What will people think? Really? God coming to us in our dreams?

But to be honest, I am tired of worrying about what others will think. I am tired of avoiding mentioning my feelings about God in my dreamwork experiences. It takes more energy to find ways to not include it than to just write the truth of what I feel.  

Completing the Circuit

There is some type of electric machine that I am hooking a man to. I’m testing it to see if it’s working right. There are other people watching to see if it will work. I need to hook myself up so that I will be connected to the man but first I have to turn on the power. I run to turn on the power and as I do I realize that I will be shocked when I go to connect myself. Even so, I turn the power on knowing this will happen. Now I am going to complete the circuit by getting myself connected. I’m scared to do it but I know I must.

What is it that animates us? What is it that gives us life? What is the life force that is present in us when we are alive and that leaves our bodies when we die? These questions have been rolling around in me for as long as I can remember. Really, the basic question – the quest for me is this: who or what is God? And how can I become connected?

As I continue with Archetypal Dreamwork, the animus presents himself to me in countless ways. At first, when Rodger described the animus as having a “divine nature,” I wasn’t sure how to respond. There was something that was a little “too much” or “too big” that came along with that notion. I’ve skirted around that issue – the “God” issue – in this blog, and in my life. Part of me longs to connect with God, but there is also a place in me that has a fear of connecting. I can’t say that I understand it. But it shows up in my dreams as this back and forth – connecting in one dream and then not connecting, for any number of reasons in the next.

For many of us humans, the idea of God can be too much, too big. Although I ready to admit my longing for a connection with God, at the same time it seems to be way to big and too scary for my little self to imagine. But in our dreams, we are given a way to begin to imagine it and to connect with it. The animus. The name itself has in it’s root meaning – soul, spirit, breath. Over time, in our dreams, the animus helps us to see that it is him, God, that animates us.

And so in this dream, the animus is there. Electricity is a metaphor for the life force that animates us. I am presented with the opportunity to connect with it, with Him, but it so big and scary. And the shock that I could feel with the force of it is likely very painful.

My homework is to complete the circuit.

Dreams work in such clever ways. Dreams can get away with giving us the opportunity to connect with this amazing powerful force that some (including me) call God. For many, this would be too much to even begin to even think about in waking life. But, the animus comes in dreams as another human, somebody we can relate to, somebody we can connect with. In this particular dream, I am not thinking – OMG! That is God!....., I just know that I must connect with the man and that I am scared to do it.

I am afraid to do the homework. I don’t know what to expect. I think of all the logistics. Where will I sit? Will I hold his hand first and then touch the wire? I feel so scared. My heart is pounding. But eventually I am able to imagine grabbing his hand and the wire at the same time. I see and feel a white circle of light going through him and through me. It fills me with an amazing sense of warmth and love. But then, when I go back to doing the homework again, I second guess myself. Was I just conjuring up those feelings or were they real? I get stuck in thinking mode, wondering if I will feel that special feeling again. But it’s not something that I can turn on and off. It is not about me controlling this like a switch. It is more about trusting, and allowing the electricity to flow. I know I “must” do it, but to be honest, I don’t know if I am ready. 

Kitten

There is a kitten that keeps meowing. I want it to shut up. I get so angry that I open its mouth a little too wide and I hurt its jaw. The kitten turns into a little girl (maybe 4 or 5). She looks so sad. I feel bad. I realize what I did. I say, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” She says yes so I say, “Let me get you a baby aspirin.” I go to leave and she still looks sad so I say, “Do you want to come with me to get it?”  She nods her head yes. So I bring her with me to get the baby aspirin. I feel bad about hurting her and I want to make it better for her.

This dream is reflecting a part of myself that I have a hard time looking at. I don’t think of myself as angry and certainly not angry enough to torture a kitten. This anger theme has come up before in dreams and I find it mysterious. The dreams will not let go of this notion that I have underlying anger within me. Maybe the dreams want me to get to a place where I can experience a direct connection to this anger and its source. They won’t let up until I get it. 

In the dream, I hate that the kitten is expressing its needs. Perhaps she is hungry or wants some attention but I just want her to shut up. When I take my anger to the next step by hurting the kitten, I hurt her right at the place where she is expressing herself – her mouth. There is something about the expression of her desires that triggers this rage in me. Once I hurt the kitten – which becomes the girl, I don’t really feel much. The girl is in pain and I don’t show much compassion. I am numb. I say the right things. I go through the motions - I go to get her a baby aspirin - but I am not feeling. Numbing out is what I do in the dream and in waking life. It’s a pathological habit that I use. 

The dream is showing me that under the numbness there is anger and the anger has to do with expressing desires. 

I marvel at dreams like this. I feel like an outsider looking into my own psyche. I am able to “understand” it as a concept but the existence of this anger in me still seems so foreign. I find it hard to understand at a deeper knowing place what this dream is suggesting. I find it disturbing and at the same time fascinating that there are these parts of myself that I am completely unaware of.

Taking a Leap

I’m on a huge slide. I slide down and when I get to the bottom there is a place where you are supposed to jump for the final excitement. It’s part of the ride. I’ve done it before but this time I stop. I’m scared. I look down and I can’t even see the bottom where I will land. This is too scary. I get down and try to approach it another way to make it easier – kind of from the side. A guy comes over to me and says it’s better just to jump the regular way. It doesn’t work when you go sideways. I believe him so I go ahead and jump knowing it might be really scary but I will be OK. When I jump, it’s not what I expect. I fall softly – like I am cushioned as I go down. I am moving slowly, not at all like normal gravity.

Sliding is about letting go. It’s fun to watch kids on a playground, letting go and feeling the thrill of letting gravity take over. In the dream, I’m letting go. But once I reach the bottom of the slide, the dream pushes me to a new edge. Peering over that edge, I feel so scared. I can’t see where I am going to land. I want to jump for “the final excitement” of the ride but I look for a way to make it easier.  I’m on this edge where I am excited to participate in the ride but at the same time I am terrified. At this moment the animus shows up. His advice? 

        Jump the regular way. It doesn’t work when you go sideways.

Jumping the regular way is all about trust. It’s about jumping into the unknown; jumping when you can’t see the ground. It is about vulnerability.

Going sideways is stopping, pulling away, looking for a way out. I wonder what “going sideways” means in my waking life.  How do I avoid jumping? Where do I stop myself from trusting? Where do I look for a way out? How do I keep myself from being vulnerable?

When I trust the animus and jump – I get into a different state of being. It’s out of this world, not like normal gravity. Time slows down as I fall softly. The dream shows me that every time I come to the edge and take a leap I can get a little help from the animus. With this level of trust, it’s like I can be part of a different reality.

Juicy Watermelon

Dream:
There is a wise Asian man that is showing me and another woman how to cut a watermelon to get to the juiciest, tastiest part – the darker red part deep inside of it. He’s got some special knowledge about it to show us. We eat it together, sloppily diving into it. It’s a messy process but so yummy. Our mouths are dripping with juice.

Juicy. Messy. Sloppy. Tasty. The dream beautifully describes what it is to “dive into” a watermelon. The wise man knows that we must cut right down into it and he is showing us how. There is no holding back. Although it’s a messy, sloppy process we don’t hesitate and we get to taste the yummiest, juiciest part.

Sometimes in the dreamwork the girl (soul-self) is described as juicy. The juicy girl is the girl that is full of vitality, full of passion, in her sensuality. The juicy girl is not worried about being sloppy or messy. She just wants to experience tasting the watermelon in all its juiciness. And with that comes a connection with the animus, showing up in this dream as a wise Asian man nourishing her.

Dreams have a way of going back and forth; showing us how we can live and how we’ve been living. They show us “two sides of our own coin” so to speak. In the previous post, Stepping on Snakes, the dream points out how I’ve spent my life numb to sensuality and passion, willfully stepping on top of it, but not experiencing it. This dream shows me the opposite. Here, in this dream I get to feel that juicy feeling. Rodger says that the heart of the watermelon is like the deep juicy part of my life. It’s the best part, hidden deep inside. This is the beginning of how I can be the girl.

Stepping on Snakes

Dream:
I’m walking on a path. There are huge snakes on the path and somehow I can’t help but step on them. I am terrified.  The snakes aren’t moving – just lying there.

Rodger asks me again and again what I feel when I step on the snakes. He is trying to help me get into the feeling of it but I am not sure what I am feeling. It seems like the terror of it subsides once I step on the snakes.

The snake is an archetypal symbol signifying sensuality. The dream shows that I have fear/terror of my own sensuality. But my approach to this archetypal fear is that I muddle on through even though initially I am terrified. Normally someone would run away if they happened upon some huge snakes on a path. Not me, I step right on them. Maybe I have a numbness that allows me to side step the fear and handle it as I step on top of the snakes. Rodger suggests that this may represent what happened when I lost my girl.

How does this relate to my life? When I feel sensuality, what do I do? How do I just plod through, drive through? Apparently, I’ve developed a pathological willfulness and numbness to push on through. Sensuality is about allowing our bodies to receive input from the senses, embracing it, celebrating it. Many of us feel a disconnect from our bodies as was discussed in the blog post titled We Live in These Bodies. Perhaps, when I lost my girl, sensuality got bypassed and a certain numb, willfulness took over.

On the Edge

Dream:
I’m standing out on a ledge. I am so scared. I am holding on but I could fall. There’s an important event going on near me. President Obama is there. He is standing so close to me. If I could just get the courage to interrupt him and ask him to help me, maybe he could save me.  It feels like a life or death situation. Even so, I feel hesitant to bother him. He is so important and all. I stand there for the longest time, feeling like I am going to fall any minute. It is so scary. Finally I get up the courage to get his attention. I have to speak loudly for him to hear me. I say, “Can you help me?  I am stuck over here.” He immediately stops what he is doing, reaches over, grabs me and saves me. Thank God! Now I am so glad I spoke up and asked him.

As I read this dream aloud I stop when I get to the part that says, “If I could just get the courage to interrupt him…..”  I stop because I am starting to cry. This is unusual for me. Usually I can hold it together, but there is something there that breaks through. The feelings that are coming up surprise me. Rodger asks if “getting the courage to interrupt” and the feelings it brings up are familiar to me.

When I had this dream, it was the fear that I felt. It felt as if I were really on a ledge about to fall. That “life or death” fear helped me to find the courage to break a long held pattern of not speaking up. But in the dream session it wasn’t as much the fear I felt, but sadness.  The sadness came from somewhere deep inside – through a crack that the dream had opened up. As I reflect on it now, the sadness comes back again. The sadness seems to be coming from my girl – my soul self; that part of me that has spent many years lacking the courage to speak up.

Being out on that ledge is pushing me to my edge. Rodger suggests that this dream is an important one for me and shows that I am “on the edge of my work.”  It shows that I am willing to speak up and that I can connect and get help from the animus (President Obama shows up as the animus in this dream). I have a life or death choice. I can choose to be the girl and speak up (life) or to succumb to the pathology by numbing out, staying quiet and somehow muddling through (death). I am on that edge and I choose to be vulnerable. And with that choice, I can be the girl who gets to be with the animus.

Disculpa vs. Amazing

Dream:
I am with a few other people in a big room watching a movie. It seems to be part of a special class. The movie is helping us to learn about feelings. Now the movie is over and there are two men off to my left. The one guy says “disculpa” and the other guy says “amazing”. As these guys are talking to me I feel tears come up and I start to cry there in front of them. For a moment I feel exposed and I want to cover my face but then I remember the movie about feelings and so I don’t.

In dreams, movies can represent dreams. So in a way, the dream is showing me how dreams are helping me learn to feel. This is something that has shown up in my waking life. I find myself crying and laughing more easily. Sometimes these feelings come from somewhere deep and they surprise me. Other times, they bubble up in such a natural way that I forget that it hasn’t always been this way. I am so grateful for this new ability to feel. It’s like I am getting a taste of life itself.

In the dream I feel exposed when I feel the tears come up. I begin to cover my face but then I remember what I leaned in the movie and I let my feelings stay exposed, uncovered.  The dreams are helping me to see how I feel shame for feeling and at the same time they are helping me to let go of that shame.

The two archetypal men are there to help me see two sides of the story. Disculpa vs. Amazing.

Discupla is a Spanish word that is like saying, “pardon me.”

Part of me feels a need to be pardoned when feelings come up (disculpa). There is something about showing my feelings that I want to cover up. But the dreams are helping me to be “out there” with my feelings, which gives me that sense of being alive (amazing).

The moment  when I go to cover up my face is a reaction-moment. But then I notice my reaction and I allow the feelings to flow without covering them up. The movie (the dreams) are teaching me about these reaction moments. I am starting to be able to notice these moments in waking life. Sometimes I can catch them in myself as they are happening  but often it is only after the moment has passed – but it’s a start.  The hope is that I will become so aware of them that like in the dream I can let go of the reaction before it overtakes the feeling moment. Being able to live like that would be amazing!

Kathy vs. Pathy

What is “the girl?”  Rodger says the dreamwork is helping me to “be the girl.” The girl is the true me. Sometimes “the girl” is referred to as the “soul self.” But what does that really mean? What does it feel like to be the girl?

One way to understand it may be to first identify what is the not the girl (the pathology). It can get kind of tricky because the pathology disguises itself as the girl, trying to take over the girl. It can be hard to separate them at first. The girl feels her true feelings. The pathology covers them up with lies.

It is clear that the pathology does not want me to be the girl. It does everything it can to keep me from being the girl. This shows up in dreams but also in waking life.

What follows is a waking life illustration of what can go on between Kathy (my girl) and Pathy (my pathology). Pathy is very tricky. She acts as if she’s Kathy. Kathy and Pathy have been battling inside of me for years. Now I am starting to recognize who is who.

Kathy: I feel excited because I am taking a Spanish class. Finally I am taking a step to learn another language. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.

Pathy: Why are you bothering to learn Spanish? What will you use it for? That is not a productive use of your time.

Kathy: I like learning Spanish even if I don’t have a “reason” to learn it. Even just speaking words in Spanish is fun. Me gusta español!

Pathy: Oh, so you know a couple of Spanish words. Stop showing off.  Really learning Spanish will take a lot of effort. You always do this. You start something. You get excited about it and then you lose interest. That is just the way you are.

Kathy: I am changing. I am feeling more energy and excitement. I feel more drive. I want to follow through with what I desire to do.

Pathy: I’ve heard that before. How many times have you said that? I highly doubt you will be able to follow through.

Kathy: You may be right. I don’t exactly know. I just know that I am having fun with it.

Pathy: You aren’t very good at learning languages. You can’t help the fact that your brain doesn’t work very well in that way.

Kathy: My brain enjoys the mental gymnastics. Learning Spanish is challenging but I like it!

This is a battle between Kathy and Pathy. What Pathy has on her side is that she’s had decades to perfect her art. She knows how to “take Kathy out” quickly. But her techniques aren’t working as well anymore. Dreams are exposing Pathy. What Kathy has on her side is the truth of who she is.

Although I don’t think that Pathy will ever disappear completely, she is shrinking. And as she shrinks, Kathy can notice her and continue to be the girl.

A Peeing Baby Boy

Dream:
I am holding a naked baby boy (maybe 6 months old) and he starts peeing. I am holding him away from me. I am not sure what to do with him.

There is uncertainty in this dream. The boy is completely exposed and vulnerable but I don’t know how to react to it. The boy is part of me – that part of my soul, right there in all its glory. But I don’t know what to do. “I am not sure what to do with him” assumes there is some answer. I need to figure something out. But really the baby is just being the boy – peeing where ever. There’s nothing to figure out. The baby is pure feeling. He is feeling the release, the relief and even the joy of peeing without abandon.  I hold him away from me with this kind of “ewww” reaction. I jump away from pure feeling and make it a problem. I distance myself – holding him away from me. Holding him at arms length.

We do an exercise where Rodger asks me to close my eyes and imagine being the boy peeing. As soon as he says, “close your eyes”, something in me wants to shut down.  There is this part of me that doesn’t want to do this. But I am patient with myself and soon I can imagine being a baby boy peeing. For a few seconds I can feel into it but then I start thinking and it gets uncomfortable. My head gets in the way. I try again and this time I laugh. I imagine myself peeing all over the place in every direction and it makes me laugh. That’s the boy!

My homework is to be the boy peeing. I go from holding the boy away from me, not knowing what to do with him…. to being the boy. I never would have guessed it but I like this homework. It’s actually kind of fun to imagine and feel what it might be like to be a peeing baby boy!

What's Cooking?

I am with a man and a woman. They are cooking something in a frying pan. I don’t like them because I don’t like the way they make me feel. Although they don’t say anything to me they seem mean and I can tell that they don’t think very highly of me. They think I’m a bad cook. Now they leave and I want to try some of what they have cooked. It looks and smells delicious. I take a little taste of it and I want more. I go to pick up another piece of the food and I realize that it’s chicken. Oh no! I recently stopped eating meat. I can’t have this but I already had a piece. I feel confused. I put the piece of chicken down even though I want to eat it.

The first part of this dream is all about projection. In college I minored in psychology, but somehow I must have been sleeping in class when they taught us what projection was. In my first dreamwork session, Rodger said that I was projecting onto the man in the dream. I had no idea what he was talking about. Although I still don’t completely understand what projection is, it is starting to make more sense.

The word projection is related to the latin projectum - something thrown forth.

In a way, psychological projection is also about “something thrown forth.” We “throw forth” onto others, issues that we need to address, feelings that we need to feel. We push shame, hurt, and anger underneath, to a point where we don’t even know they exist. But they are still there. Sometimes they “project” out of us onto others. It’s like they have a mind of their own and they just pop out of us. Perhaps it’s because they have an energy to them that can’t stay totally buried.

It’s hard for us to see projection in ourselves. It can be seen much more easily in others. Think about people you know.  Do you know people who tend to be jealous and you hear them speak of others’ jealousy, greedy people who point out others’ greed, boastful people who notice that others boast a lot?  Once you start noticing, you see it everywhere. But what you don’t want to do is to point it out to them!  Unless they are in the process of looking at this in themselves, they will flatly deny it, probably projecting some of their anger right on to you!

Seeing projection in ourselves is hard but we can get help from our dreams. If we are ready to listen, they offer us a chance to see where we project. This dream is a good example. The dream starts out with a man and a woman cooking. I project feelings related to me onto them. There is nothing in the dream that indicates that they don’t like me or that they are mean. These are feelings that I am “throwing forth” onto them. Maybe there is a place in me that feels “unlikable” and that assumes that others are “mean.” Or could it be that there is part of me that is mean!? That is a hard one to take. I think of myself as a “nice” person. I would never be mean. But I do know that I have a mean streak inside of me. I once was a “mean” big sister. Although I don’t usually act on them, mean thoughts do pop into my mind at times. I hate to admit that. I hate to think of myself that way. The dream is brutally honest. It helps me see where and what I project.

The man and woman leave and I taste the food. They are there as the Anima and Animus wanting to nourish me. I taste the chicken and I like it. But then I get confused. Recently I stopped eating meat (this lasted about a month) and so I am in this push – pull place. I want to but I don’t. Being picky about what they serve keeps me in control and keeps me apart from them. I don’t know what I want. I eat it and I like it but then my head gets in the way, keeping me in this place of limbo.

This dream is showing me what is keeping me apart from the Anima and Animus. I push them away by projecting onto them, undesirable feelings about myself. I also stay confused as I struggle to stay in control, trying to decide whether to accept the nourishment they have to offer.

Doing the Laundry

Dream:
I am at a public laundry area. I’m washing something in a big sink. There’s a boy there (about 13 years old) that looks at me and says, “Are you ok? You look like you are in some kind of pain.”  I stop what I am doing and I look at the boy and say, “Yes you are right, I am feeling bad. I’m so impressed that you could notice that.” I feel a sense of connection to the boy and also feel grateful that he noticed me. This whole time, there’s been a man standing next to me on the other side of the sink. I realize that he can hear the exchange that I am having with the boy. I like that because I want the man to see how caring the boy is. I am touched by the boy’s compassion for me.

In some ways I like laundry. Often, when I am feeling overwhelmed in my life, I turn to doing laundry. It’s something productive, yet mindless that I can escape to where I don’t need to feel. I can just zone out and avoid whatever is overwhelming me.

The boy in the dream is my boy, my soul self. He has a knowing. He understands that when my mind is overwhelmed, this is an opening to feeling, to pain. At this point in the session, I recall a recent experience. As I was taking a shower a few days ago, I cried as I felt a strong feeling of being overwhelmed with life. It’s not that it made any sense. The tears were unexpected. They confused me. There wasn’t anything in particular that I was crying about. Normally, I am trying to “figure it all out.” This was the opposite. I was just feeling.

But often in my life, instead of allowing myself to feel when I am overwhelmed, I get busy with chores like laundry and other responsibilities. The boy knows this and is able to articulate it to me. At first, when the boy asks me if I am OK, I feel his compassion. But I pull away when I am impressed by him, approving of him. But the boy is saying it to help me feel pain, not to get approval.

Although the Animus is standing next to me, I don’t really see him in the dream. He’s not in focus. I can’t see him clearly because I am not connecting with him. I get a little whiff of connection – to the boy and to the man. But as Rodger says, it’s almost like I am the hostess, there to introduce them to each other. Boy, meet man. Man, meet boy. They are both there to help me feel but I keep my distance. There is a deeper level of pain that I need to feel. Until I do, there will continue to be a distance between me and the boy, and between me and the Animus.

The paradox is that although feeling overwhelmed feels bad, in a way it's good. Yes, it's uncomfortable. I’d rather do laundry. But it’s an invitation to the feeling underneath. The feeling that will take me to the connection with my boy and with the Animus.

We Live in These Bodies

Kids love bodily functions. They are so out there with their enthusiasm about the sounds and substances that bodies create. Talk to any three year old who is in the midst of potty training and you’ll hear intimate details about this new experience. At age four, my daughter’s two favorite words were “booby” and “poopy.”  She proudly announced “poopy” as we went around the Thanksgiving table that year, each stating what we were thankful for. Many of the adults at the table may have indeed been thankful for poopy as well, but they all looked at her with shock as she expressed her thanks. Older kids especially love the sounds their bodies make. Many are proud of their expertise in this area, learning how to burp or fart upon command. They not only feel comfortable with these body functions, they celebrate them. At some point though, it becomes an embarrassment. As kids, we’d be sitting in a group playing cards and somebody would say, “Who let one?” Nobody would admit to it. Everybody would then chime in – “He who smelt it dealt it.” And the poor kid who mentioned the offending smell would have to take the heat for it. Somewhere along the line we switch from celebration to embarrassment.

I had a dream where I felt that embarrassment. It was a continuation of the cave dream from the last post.

I leave the cave. As I walk down the street towards my house, I walk past two men. The one man farts loudly as I pass him. I think its funny but I keep walking, pretending I don’t notice. I feel embarrassed for the man.

My first inclination was to not include this part of the dream in the blog. My thoughts went something like this:   what an embarrassing subject to write about…. people won’t want to read about that….what will they think of me? …the archetypal cave part of the dream seemed to be so meaningful and this? It’s so… crass, so crude and just not that important….

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that although initially embarrassing to write about, the subject of this dream is important. Unlike children, adults have discomfort and embarrassment surrounding the sounds, substances and smells that are connected with bodily functions. But why?

In the dream, the Animus is there to provoke me. He is standing there with his friend, waiting for just the right moment to surprise me with a fart. I think its funny like I might have as a girl. But quickly I switch and I feel embarrassed for him. But that is just me projecting my embarrassment onto him. He is not embarrassed. Just the opposite. Like children do, he is celebrating the body and he is provoking me to react.

As we work through this part of the dream, Rodger says something obvious. For some reason, it keeps coming back to me.

“We live in these bodies.”

Yes we do. To be human, is to live in a body. There is no getting around it. It’s the physical casing of our being. To stay alive, our bodies create sounds, substances, smells and more. So, why the shame? Why the embarrassment?  It occurs to me that to feel shame around the ways in which our bodies function, means to feel shame for existing. I am not suggesting that we all begin to loudly burp and fart in public. But to have shame for our bodies is to have shame for that which allows us to live. I think children get it. The body and all it's many functions is to be celebrated.

Stepping Into the Cave

Dream
I leave to go for a walk in the woods like I normally do. I get to an area that looks like a cave entrance. It is dark in there but I can also see some areas of light shining. When I first walk in it feels like a familiar place on my walk but I wonder why it is dark because it is still sunny outside.  I think that if I go ahead in and walk through the dark area, it will eventually get to a light place. So I go in and start walking but pretty soon I get really scared. What used to be my familiar walk is now dark and scary. I don’t think I want to do this anymore. I turn around to leave.

The normal path I take in the woods turns scary as it becomes an unfamiliar cave. Although the entrance is dark, I had seen light shining in there and so I continue inside. At first I realize that if I walk through the dark place, I will be able to get to the light. But fear takes over and I quickly talk myself out of it. I back away.

Stepping into a dark cave is an Archetypal moment. It brings up Archetypal fear that comes from facing the unfamiliar or the unknown. * Although scary, this moment presents me with an opportunity to face this fear and feel it. If I can walk though the darkness of this fear, I’ll have a chance to experience something awesome. The Light. Rodger suggests that the Animus is in there. It’s his light, his love that is waiting for me if I could have the courage to step through the darkness.

My homework is to step into the cave and feel the fear.

The homework experience can be so mysterious. Sometimes it seems like such a chore. Other times it flows and it’s like I am right back in the dream that it came from. In this case, although it feels scary, I have the courage to step farther into the cave than I had in the dream. But then I stand there paralyzed in the pitch black, unable to move. As I continue the homework, I find myself inching forward into the blackness. It’s so dark, I feel like I am blind. I get to the point where I can’t see the light coming from the entrance or the light coming from deeper within the cave – from the Animus. I don’t know which way to go. I feel so lost, alone. 

Why can’t I just imagine myself walking into the cave towards the light?  What is stopping me?  What am I so afraid of? A deep sadness comes over me as I begin to realize what I fear: that the Light won’t be there for me.



* Refer to page 177 of The Deep Well Tapes by Marc Bregman (with Susan Marie Scavo and Ellen Keene) for more on Archetypal fear.  Go HERE for more information about this and other dreamwork books.

Driving in Reverse

 

Dream:

I am driving down our neighborhood street and I am having trouble getting through because there has been an accident. I try to squeeze through but I can’t. I don’t care that there has been an accident. I just see it as an inconvenience. Now Julia is in the car with me. I look down and I see a lit cigarette there. I ask her if it is hers and she admits that it is. I feel anger rise as I pick it up. I open the car door and stamp it out on the ground. I say, “That’s it! You are grounded.” But as soon as a say it I wish I hadn’t. It’s not really how I want to be with her. I feel conflicted. Now I am backing up the car down the street. I really want to drive in reverse like that. I get to a house where there’s a birthday party. Moms are bringing their kids there to the party. I need to sit and wait for them to get out of my way so I can keep backing up. I feel a little impatient. I make eye contact with one of the moms. My tone softens a little as I sit and wait. Finally now I can be on my way. I end up turning the car around and going forward to leave. There doesn’t seem to be anything in the way now.

Often in our lives, our soul selves get lost as our pathology drives us. Dreams of being in the driver’s seat, driving forward, often suggest just that – that the pathology is driving us. The dream begins with me being unable to drive forward. Its like the pathology wants to squeeze through past the accident but it can’t. The typical reaction to an accident is interest, concern for the well-being of those involved. But I don’t care about the accident or any trauma or pain that might be associated with it. Pain can be a door to the soul self. A door away from pathology. It’s right there in front of me but I see it as an inconvenience.

Now I catch my teenage daughter with a cigarette and I immediately snap with alligator anger. The pathology really wants to dig in here. But just as quickly, I want to take it back. Reverse my harsh stance. At that moment I realize the pathology is driving me. So I start backing up.

Rodger and I discuss driving in reverse. Is it the pathology trying to find another way to drive me? Or is it a reversing or loosening of the pathology’s normal modus operandi? I’d like to think that it’s the latter.

As I’m driving in reverse, I get stopped again. This time there are moms and kids in my way. At first I react with impatience, but then my tone softens as I make eye contact with another mom.

The reversal of my harsh stance with Julia and the softening of impatience indicate that there is shifting going on within the pathology. But the pathology doesn’t let go that easily. But the end of the dream, I get myself turned around and I am driving forward. The pathology is driving me again.