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September 30, 2004

Associations and Interpretation


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The scene of the dream is a building with many levels (not atypical of my dreamlife) I visit a number of these levels - the ominous entrance, the basement/subconscious, the fascinating shop on the second floor that opens into a festival of delights. (that's progress for you)

The scrapbook of my transformation. The company that used make them is out of business (the church?) I must do it myself. I am a bit daunted by this prospect in the dream. (My blog?) (My spiritual path?)

There are two items of note among the materials I have brought along to be included in the scrapbook. A horse's leg. At the moment, the energetic pain in my body is in my lower legs and hooves, oops, feet. Actually I often think my feet, in their seized up state, feel like hooves. A horse is an animal, with eyes in the side of it's head, so that it can always scan for danger. A horse will take flight when frightened by the slightest trigger. The amygdala is in control of action. I still have that kind of energy in my legs. It's painful. The skirt is there to cover the horse leg. Traditional female garb/role, covering up instinctual hypervigilance.

The elevator is not exactly a friendly one. It hasn't been easy to get from one level to the next. The handicapped woman is an aspect of myself that I have struggled to bring up to the platform on the first floor. Her mother is watching critically - that's how I know it's an aspect of self. I had some help with pulling that part of myself up, but not enough. My handicapped self, exhausted from the effort, goes to rest in the basement, as does A. They are both covered by white sheets -a bit corpse like. I should not mistake them for dead.

I leave the basement alone, without either one of them, quite happily, I might add, and take the elevator, which by now is more a ordinary sort, to the delightful shops, courtyard and festival, where I am offered delicacies and samples. I am able to hang out there for awhile. Unfortunately, I don't stay. Silly dream me has to go to the airport. Up in the sky, off the ground. Why?

I take A. along, but we are separated on the way to the train that goes to the airport. He is worried. He is halfway up the the stairs (again another level), looking out the window at the train station when I find him. (Bus, train, bike lots of horizontal movement).

Looking with him out the window, I am happy to recognize a musicologist at the bus stop, who will show us the way to the airport. The musicologist is a welcome guide, warm and handsome, suggesting a bike ride, which is right up my alley. A. cannot recognize him, and that makes him anxious. I tease A. out of mild irritation. Why a musicologist? Someone who knows more than I do, an expert, a scholar. Projection of my own authority to an outside source?

We don't make it to the airport on our bikes before the alarm rings. The final scene finds me taking apart a dysfunctional path, and worrying about what the neighbors will think. I worry most about getting in trouble. That distracts me from seeing that the path is dangerous, and I might be doing a public service by dismantling it.

I think this dream has to do with my struggle to reach a peaceful place in my life, and my recent relapse, getting hooked into chaotic energies again.

I don't think I will do a project like this again. The hyperlinking was too literal, too serious, and too time consuming. It was hard to find images that exactly fit my dream images. I feel exposed and ashamed by the content of the dream, (notice the amount and quality of human contact) and feel my skills as an interpreter are inadequate. Also, who, pray tell, did I think would be interested?

Oh well.

Photo note: Stairs, door, shadows, layers, depth, patterns, complexity -- seemed like a good pick.

Posted by Dakota at September 30, 2004 08:28 AM