November, 20071 2 3 5 8 10 15 16 20 21 23 24 27 28 29
I am much younger, perhaps in my late teens or early twenties, and trying to woo a young woman. She finds me interesting, even fascinating, but is leery of having a relationship with me. Her mother likes me (groan!) and thinks I would be a good match for her daughter, even once encouraging me to continue my pursuit of her, but I realize that the mother's approval is almost the kiss of death on ever really making it with the daughter. There are some cell-like rooms or apartments in a row, all cubes with clear glass sides, so there is no privacy but completely clear, intimate views between them, from outside in, or from in to outside. At least temporarily, my room is just one or two away from the young woman's, but we are on different schedules, so I seldom see her. I leave her cards or letters which the mother sees and likes, but which the young woman "ignores," just seeming exasperated when she finds them later. She sees that I am too interested in her. I would be more attractive if more confident, less concerned with whether or not she likes me. The situation is frustrating and depressing.
11/2/07 - Title: "No Longer Alone"
There is a great concrete structure. It is at once a bridge, a means of flood control, and a channel for river flow. Folks have been challenging themselves by walking out to this (isolated in the central Texas countryside) huge artifact, though it does not sid (sit) on or near any existing roads and is several miles from any town, a distance over which one may encounter muddy barriers, insect nuisances, scorpions, spiders, high humidity, the Texas sun, etc. There is no convenient way to lug in enough water for the trek. And, once started, there may be no human contact, just isolation, till one returns. It is a hot day when I tackle this feat and at length, after scary encounters with snakes, deep mud, thirst, fatigue, and being eaten by mosquitoes, reach the concrete structure. Now, from here, I just have to get down into the muddy river (which looks like the Colorado or Guadalupe in flood), swim across, and return. From the top of the concrete bridge/river "channeler," I see, perhaps a half mile downstream and standing level with me on a high bank, someone else who has tested himself in this way and has already also swum the river. We wave.
[This reminds me of the last scene before the intermission in the movie "Lawrence of Arabia," after the exhausted Lawrence character, played by Peter O'Toole, has come across the desert, the last part of the way completely alone, has at last reached the Suez Canal, and has just gotten the attention of someone on the other side. But they seem to be the only two people over an immense distance or area and are still separated by the canal itself. The other man repeatedly shouts asking Lawrence "Who are you?"]
11/3/07 - Title: "A Lot of Old Blood Gathering - Imminent Death of a Weak Ego"
I'm visiting in the home of some older relatives (none I know in waking life). There are some outside stairs and then, inside, there is a fairly small house, but with at least three levels or floors. Between the first and second (split-level) levels there are just a few stairs (5-6). From the second, there are yet more, other stairs up to at least one higher level set of rooms, a full story above. (There seems to be some type family gathering I and others from out of town are here for. And then there are the relatives who own the house, who of course are not from out of town, but I do not know or remember among them which is which, the owners vs. the guests.) I have been unusually inactive and quiet for this gathering, not feeling too well physically. And now I notice that at the top of my right wrist, under the skin, a lot of blood has collected. Even seen through the skin, it is so dark it appears almost black, apparently old blood that is pooled there. With fear and sadness (for I know the answer), I ask the others sitting around in the little lowest level (entrance level) room: "That's not normal is it?" and indicate my wrist. Everyone becomes quiet on seeing the trapped blood collected on top of my wrist, and someone agrees it is not normal.
The others suggest I go upstairs and rest, and gently help me up the few stairs to the second level. I suddenly feel very weak and stop to rest before going up the next, longer set of stairs to the 3rd level. It sinks in that I must be dying. I think I'll just rest here (on the second or upper split-level, in sight of all the others) awhile before going on up to the 3rd level (where I would be more alone to die).
[Before going to bed last night, I had noticed some changes in my wrist. There is a little atrophy in one place but also small or large bulges that were not there several months ago. They feel like fatty deposits, perhaps because the joint has not been getting a normal amount of use due to my tendonitis, but I wondered too if they might be primary or metastasized lymphomas.
When the wrist problem first appeared, around February, it was on waking from a dream that I had cancer (in my right forearm) which was causing a lot of pain. In reality, the pain turned out to be from the tendonitis. I have a new doctor's app't. next Wednesday.
"Old blood" collected = an accumulation of "bad blood"? or = a family gathering?
About a week before this dream, I had a dream of a friend of Sonya's who had just died suddenly. He appeared to me as a young man. I reacted as if he were the Angel of Death coming for me, and I woke up as from a nightmare. Earlier, on hearing (in reality) of his death and from Sonya his age when he died, I had thought "but he was so young!" i.e. just a few years older than I am.]
11/5/07 - The DG yesterday discussed, among others, my 11/3/07 "A Lot of Old Blood Gathering... " dream. Highlights:
11/8/07 - Among others, the DG last night discussed my "No Longer Alone" dream of 11/2/07. Highlights:
11/10/07 (AM) - Title: "Dangerous Passages"
I'm with many others (men and women) in a mostly empty landscape frontier region. (Reminds of high CO territory, above the tree line, but could also be a wetter area in Palestine or Lebanon. It is grassy here, not dry, just open.) The area is quite hilly and with a single, not very used roadway (no pavement, more just a 4-wheel drive, high track through a remote area) on which I and these many others (refugees? demonstrators?) are traveling in vehicles, single file, on the narrow roadway. (It is unclear if we are fleeing persecution or if we are activists about to be doing the persecuting, maybe wanting to demonstrate our political wishes and get our way, forcing it on others while ignoring their rights) Frances is driving one of the vehicles, a large one, like a bus or an RV, and I am on the roof, barely hanging on. She yells that I should get down and back in (with her), for the road is too high and rough. I may get thrown off and hurt. The roadway is not just high, but in places has quite steep sides with long drop-offs. But she cannot easily stop now that we are going, for others are following closely behind, and it is too dangerous to try to get down while we are moving.
Then we are in a flatter area (though still in a similar landscape, grassy and open, very hilly, with here and there a large boulder). The road is still rough. We have stopped briefly, and I have gotten down. Several others have gotten off or out of their vehicles too. We seem to be taking a break in our journey.
Suddenly, troops roll up from our right flank (except it appears left to me, as I'm toward the front of our column of vehicles and looking back). The troops are both on foot and on military vehicles and apparently wearing gas masks. They block all escape on their side of the road and release a whitish cloud of gas into our midst. As we begin to flee to the other side of our route, we see that troops and their vehicles block our escape there as well, and they in turn gas us. Next we are being rounded up. The commander tells us something like: "This time is just a warning. If you try this again, you'll be taken into custody once more. If you do it a 3rd time, you'll be killed."
11/10/07 (PM) - Title: "Judgment Calls"
Rachael, my volunteer manager at the library warehouse - which has its last day of operation for awhile tomorrow - asks me to do something for her, a special project (as she is inclined to do at the library, for instance organizing the business books, the history section, etc.). Only this time it involves something more sophisticated, going off by myself through the mostly green rural American countryside (a slightly hilly mix of farmland and older houses [in not so great condition] on large lots with a mix of old trees, dirt roads, vacant fields, horse pasteurs [pastures], etc.). I am to be doing some sleuthing for her, investigating certain people whom she thinks are up to no good and trying to take advantage of others or rip them off using a combination of manipulative and bullying tactics.
I warn her to the effect that: "I'm not so good at making a judgment when to use a firm word vs. a fist or a kick, etc."
But she reassures me she doesn't think it will come to any of that, that I am cunning enough and a good enough actor she thinks I can find out what I need to without confrontations. As I begin to plan my strategy, I am pleased at this encouragement, but not sure it is correct. I notice then that one of the people whom I think might need investigating has been lying down in the grass just on the other side of a big tree while Rachael and I were talking, and so must have listened in and now be on the alert. Then I see it was not whom I thought it was, so "no worries."
(The scene skips to... )I'm out in the country alone when a large, chubby, middle-aged man sees me and seems to take me for an appraiser, as of antiques and other valuable things that might be sold in an old-fashioned county or farm auction. He shows me a big ornate looking old metal fence gate that I could probably get for a song and sell dearly. I have no idea why he does not just do the deal himself, but the gate is impressive, and I am deciding whether to acquire it for Rachael's non-profit organization or if the man is one of those I was sent to investigate and just trying to somehow dupe me (when I wake up).
11/15/07 - Title: "A Highly Imposing, Yet Useless Gate"
There is a huge (12 feet high or more) fence (or wall) panel or gate with strong bars running horizontally, fitting so closely together one cannot see in or out. Up and down the panel, there are also a few verticle (vertical) bars that hold the horizontal ones in place. The fence or wall with the gate or panel runs through the middle of the city. The gate or panel is so big it is on a track recessed deep into the ground or pavement, so the gate/panel can be rolled open or shut. I see some people on the other side looking back, from the right side (to my right of the gate), who in turn see me looking at them from outside the fence or wall and its gate/panel. They are at an area adjacent to the heavily reinforced panel and right next to it. The gate is heavy and strong, so that even a tank would get through only with difficulty and would probably have to batter it several times or destroy it with explosives to remove it as a barrier. Yet, starting where the other people are, next to the gate and looking back, there is a gaping hole or opening in the fence through which people can seemingly go freely. It is as wide as, if not wider than, the gate/panel. I suppose the gate might just have been rolled open and then could be rolled shut, closing the space in the fence, but it looks instead as though the gate/panel is already in its closed position, but that beside it, making the gate useless, there is just a big unprotected space, letting anyone in our out as they wish.
[It reminds me of the Zilker Botanical Gardens' wrought iron perimeter fence, and the gates there, which were installed at great expense several years ago. At night, for security purposes, the gates are closed. Yet, only a few yards away, for years the designers and management had left big gaps in the fence through which anyone could go in or out as they wished.
I have the impression this dream gate is like the first appearances of the Wizard, in "The Wizard of Oz," who from a distance is quite imposing, even frightening, but in the end it is mostly for show.
Another thought is that the "gate" plus gateless space present two sides of my personality, one very closed and the other very open, aspects of myself that are in conflict, each aborting or sabotaging the strengths and benefits of the other, and yet there is such a polarity of opposites that it maybe precludes a constructive merging of their disparate qualities.]
In my DG yesterday, we discussed my 11/10/07 dreaming, "Dangerous Passages," and "Judgment Calls." Highlights:
11/16/07 - Title: "Here Today, Neighbors Tomorrow"
I am a teenager or young man. I am in a friend's family's big modern house to get something I have gone back for. I had slipped quietly through a window to get in, but then stopped on a set of carpeted stairs (up to the second floor), afraid there might be an intruder alarm security system turned on and that any loud movement would set it off. My friend's mother comes in and finds me there. Whatever it was I'd gone back for was needed for a joint project or venture in which I'm involved with my friend, his mother, and, I think, some others. She assures me there is no alarm, and neither is she alarmed to find me there. We get to talking about old times. "How many times have we moved and then found ourselves again living near each other," she asks (or words to that effect), adding it seemed it had happened several times already. I said I could remember only a couple times definitely, but she could be right. We would be living in other places, different cities, and without prior planning or coordination each time when we would move we'd then find ourselves close neighbors again. Once we were side-to-side house neighbors. Another time it was back-to-back, that I recalled, and we each remembered a little about our lives together then, before the next moves had happened, then another set of times together, yet another move, etc., till now.
11/20/07 - On Sunday, the DG discussed, among others, my 11/15/07 "An Imposing, Useless Gate" dream. Highlights:
11/21/07 - Title: "A Great Place to Work or Play"
I'm at a swimming camp. (There are other activities as well, as at a regular summer camp, but I only recall vaguely anything we did there besides calisthenics or swimming.) It is as if we are in central TX in summer, and so it is hot. I seem not quite my current age, maybe 10 years or so younger, but I am still a lot older than most of the men and women here. They seem in their late teens or in their twenties, except for the staff, who are perhaps in their 30s and 40s. We have various ways we are to work out, as at most any vigorous camp. I recall a big open field with lots of juniper ("cedar") trees in the vicinity, and here and there a limestone rock boulder or place where the dirt has been washed or eroded or dug out down to a limestone base. There are tan or gray dusty spots in regular intervals or rows, and these represent our separate positions for doing calisthenics as a group, with plenty of space between for our arms to be outstretched while we exercise without our touching. There are lots of opportunities for swimming. The water is clear and always feels good temperature-wise, as though the big limestone pools are spring-fed cool (though not as cold as Barton Springs) and refreshing. Often we do not intend to go swimming, but some game or test occurs, and, as a ready "penalty," for losing (or at least not passing) whatever spontaneously chosen test it is, involves "having" to go swimming at the nearest clear pool. So, there is a sense of it being a great way to "fail," as when at camp your friends toss you into the pool. You hadn't really intended to go swimming, but you're sort of thrilled they like you enough to do it, and then being in the water feels great too. At any one time, there are lots of other people playing or swimming there as well, once one voluntarily or "accidentally" finds oneself in the big pools. There is no rush to get out. The play is too much fun, but the camp experience otherwise is not too onerous either, so it seems "cool" to be either out or in, and I'm on a friendly basis with everyone: myself, the different staff members, and the many young men and women. I do seem to be about the oldest one at the camp and in the pools, but no big deal is made of this. I have a beard, and the water stays in it awhile, cooling my lower face, even for awhile after I'm out of the pool. All of the pools are in natural channels or big springs ponds, no manmade ones, though here and there are fountains that have been added.
11/23/07 - Title: "Help me, Older Won (One) Before Me! You are my only hope."
I note that a very wise older woman survives but is the last of her kind, and I think: "the last of the great ones."
[The dream anima was somewhat like my mom, only smarter, wiser, more nurturing, and calmer. In reality, my mom is 85. All my other close relatives of her or older generations have died. These older generations experienced, survived, and learned from the Great Depression, the rise for awhile of Japan, Germany, and later the Soviet Union to great power status, World War II, the birth of Israel, for better or worse, the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, the collapse of Britain as a major global power, the rise to current global hegemony of the USA, the world population having about tripled, vast advances in science, and the spread of technologies and weapons unimaginable in their childhoods. The changes ahead are likely to be every bit as dramatic and challenging, but we don't have many left of these wise ones who can help us cope with them.]
11/24/07 - Title: "Lookin' for love in all the (wrong?) places..." or "Seeking a Goldilocks (Just Right) Breakfast Nook (Nookie?)" or "What if this is as good as it gets?"
I'm in a new (to me) community or a series of them and have the impression I've been traveling or have a job (such as a truck driver) that takes me to several places, but that now I'm trying to settle down more, at least to establish a more regular routine. It is also apparent I'm wanting to develop new friendship(s) and other dependable social contacts.
I go to a café at a big hotel, but the service is poor, the prices are high, and the other customers or staff are formal or unfriendly.
In an apparently different city or town, I meet some nice people and go to a little place, like a church food pantry, cheap but not free, where I can get everything I want for breakfast for a couple dollars, but it is hard to get to know people there. Folks crowd in for the food but seem uninterested in a more one-on-one relationship.
Another day, in the same smaller community, I have seen an attractive young woman (not take-your-breath-away beautiful, but a wholesome looking, pretty, girl-next-door, college age woman. She is serious, interested in helping, social, and friendly. I ask her for advice and/or directions, which she is glad to provide.
I see the back of her slender neck as she is walking away toward the nearby campus, and I think how sweet and lovely her neck looks, where the hair grows out or touches it and leaves part bare. I'd like to kiss a neck like that, I think, but realize this woman is too young for an old codger like me.
Later, near the same campus, I see her again, at a little hole-in-the-wall breakfast shop, like a combination non-profit food pantry and a very small student union cafeteria, except open to anyone in the area. I'm delighted to see her there. Checking out the menu, printed on little disposable paper flyers in pastel colors, with the current day's food offerings and prices highlighted in bold, I see I can get coffee and a muffin or each of several other breakfast basics for just a buck or two total. The people serving here are also quite friendly, as is the young woman when she sees me again, though with reservation, more as she would treat an acquaintance or just someone she recognizes and is polite to than a true friend at this point. It's OK, I think. Maybe we can be better friends later. I decide I'll stay around here and begin using this little food place each morning.
[I realize, of course, my hunger is not just for food but for genuine companionship and intimacy.]
11/27/07 - Title: "Hand in Hand, We Can Cope with This 'Best of All Possible Worlds' "
I'm younger, perhaps in my 30s or 40s. A woman (also in her 30s or 40s), who is like a blend of Maureen and a girl I knew in the 1960s, Karen, and I are either working closely together or married and have gone to a man similar to Carl for counseling. The overall situation is turbulent, the population under extreme stress and in transition, as in wartime and when one's country has been invaded and partially occupied, perhaps in northern Europe or Scandinavia. Where we are, the area is no longer directly affected, but the aftermath of the violence is still horrendous.
In the first scene, I have waited in line a long time and finally get to the front. I have found ten cards or large stamps and I'm having them examined, as by an antiques or old currency expert. This occurs outside on a sunny, cold day at a makeshift table, with hundreds of others in line themselves or else milling about waiting or watching. The expert comments that a couple of the cards/large stamps are interesting, but none of them have any genuine value. It is bad news. I see an attractive woman I know in the crowd of onlookers, but there is no time to even speak with her. Nonetheless, we both see each other and make eye contact. It is a small link or bond in the general chaos.
In the last scene, this woman and I are meeting with someone like Carl, as mentioned earlier, and she has morphed into a blend of Maureen plus Karen.
Both the Maureen/Karen person and I are quite emotionally invested in the counseling, wanting it to go well so we can resolve our difficulties together, but each afraid that the way he (in my case) or she (in hers) is will mean an end to the relationship. But Carl is reassuring, pointing out that we both are trying hard to make it work and want to stay together, so it is just a matter of seeing things more from each others' viewpoints and realizing that everybody has his or her natural reaction to things. He says it's not as though there is one right answer or way of responding. He asks Maureen/Karen and me to each say how we feel about the horrors we have seen (and that we must still work with together). As we do, there is one particular horror (something about finding parts of blown-up people, buried by the war's huge explosions) that most gets to both of us but in different ways. I'm afraid my feelings are getting in the way of staying professional and just doing my job. Maureen/Karen is already very emotional and it kind of drives her to do the work, but then she sort of lashes out at others (me) as her way of dealing with overwhelming feelings. Carl is again reassuring to both of us, saying both reactions are normal and that it's apparent that, these differences aside, we really like each other and, by the way, who wouldn't be upset by the horrors we've seen? This sinks in for each of us.
[I wake up with a sense of relief, love for Maureen/Karen, assurance that she cares for me, and the knowledge that, horrible as our work is, we can stay together and go on doing it.
Carl is facilitating, competent, and masculine.
Karen is direct, emotional, and spontaneous.
Maureen is smart, passionate, and well organized.]
11/28/07 - Title: "Lost Change"
I've come a long way, it seems, without much food and with a car that doesn't run right. With relief, I pull into a combination auto service station and Quicky-Mart (Quickie-Mart) or Stop-N-Go type place. I see the woman who runs the food shop and ask her if she'll get some things together for me while I see about getting my car looked at. Among other things, I order a piece of toast with butter and ask, if its not too much trouble, if she'll sprinkle some chocolate or cocoa powder on it, adding of course I'll pay extra, that I know she doesn't get if for free. She nods, acknowledging both my order and the offer to pay extra for chocolate powder. I check to see if anything can be done about the car. A mechanic tells me a special wrench would be required to do the job, and its not available there. It has a unique head that looks a little like the head of a hammerhead shark. I wonder if there's anyone there who can interpret my dream. I realize I could not expect just anyone to do that for me for free. I'll need to pay extra for it. I wonder what is the going rate. The food lady sees me through her window (she's inside and I'm outside) and signals to me. I open the door, and she says my toast and the other things I'd ordered are ready. She hands me what she says is my change. It's a wad of small paper money bills, perhaps $20 or so altogether. I'm confused. I don't remember having given her any payment yet. She thinks I did. I check my jeans pockets to see if my cash is still there. This check takes a little while, as my money is not in the pocket (left front) where I would usually keep it. Eventually, I find it in the right front pocket, but very little is left, maybe not even enough to pay for what I've ordered, or perhaps barely enough. Somehow, this means she should not give me the change. I hope she appreciates my honesty in giving her money back, but now I realize I'll have almost nothing left when I leave here. At least I've gotten some food, but the car still doesn't run right, and I still need my dream interpreted. I wish I could have stayed. I like the attractive food lady, but it seems there's no chance of my getting a job in this little social island. I'd best be getting on down the road.
[In this dream, embarrassingly enough, there are several innuendos suggestive of sex. The phrases "with relief" is followed by "I pull..." and then "auto. service," "Quicky (Quickie)," and even "Stop-N-Go type place" can all be interpreted to refer to autoeroticism, a brief stop for sexual relief, or the penis (which may be pulled, or which can stop a urine stream or "go"), etc. There are also several references to the exchange of money for services or for special services. Chocolate has often been associated with love or a feeling like love. A "piece" of bread, lubricated with warm butter oil and then sprinkled with a love substitute sounds kind of erotic if one lets his or her imagination run just a bit. And, of course, the food lady is noted to be attractive. The fact there is no longer a "wad" (as in the slang "shot his wad") in my "pockets," that it seemingly has been largely "spent ("very little is left")," etc. is similarly suggestive. Even "barely" and the several references to "head" (as in "giving head") seem to be part of the same theme. A "special wrench" could mean a "special wench." Perhaps the only surprising thing here is that I was not aroused when I woke up. Nor was this a "wet dream."
Unfortunately, I am not so nimble in finding or understanding the Jungian (or other non-Freudian) dream interpretation meanings here. A car is how we get through life, I believe, but I do not know the significance of one's car then not running right. Presumably there is a problem with my means of getting through life (?). The attractive food lady is certainly my anima or feminine self here, offering me not just nurturance but also my "change." Since the ego is almost always wrong, perhaps I am mistaken when I think I have not already paid her. If so, then I am due some change, and it is only the ego's (stubborn? resistant?) refusal to acknowledge it (that I am due change) which prevents my receiving it. I wonder how I might have been changed if more open to it.
20 is a strongly emphasized (x 10) 2, which may represent dawning awareness. A "hammerhead" may be someone very hard-headed or stubborn. But perhaps it is just that, to fix what is wrong, I'll need to be really hit over the head (with the message I'm not getting, so thick is my skull?) with a "hammer" head wrench. There is a window through which the lady and I see each other. This would indicate some clarity, maybe getting the picture intellectually even if not yet emotionally. The lady is inside (part of my inner landscape, perhaps). The mechanic is my shadow. But I know little about him other than that he is practically employed, fixing up the means for people to get through life, and seems competent, even if he cannot fix my problem.
In this dream, the food lady anima and my shadow seem to have a good and balanced working relationship, she servicing with nurturing food items, he with fixing people's autos (the things we do automatically while we sleepwalk through life?), and the two in a way in business together, having an ongoing relationship together, their own "little social island."
Money often means energy, and in this dream I am almost out of mine. Perhaps not insignificantly, I have been getting way too little sleep lately.
Overall, I think the main significance of the dream from a Jungian standpoint could be that a time of significant change has been delayed due to my confusion or resistance.]
11/29/07 - The DG yesterday discussed, among others, my 11/27/07 "Hand in Hand, We Can Cope with This Best of All Possible Worlds" dream. Highlights: