Tag: dream work

Ride along with me

I am a passenger on the road of life
and I travel in the backseat
where my input is not asked for, nor appreciated.

I ride along.

I am a passenger on the road of life,
and if you ask me the direction in which I am travelling,
at best I can only speculate; the view back here is limited.

I am not driving.

Driver #1 is motivated and self-assured
and I sit back with confidence and relax
Until his mistress climbs aboard.

Wait a minute, who invited her?

Driver #2 was handsome once,
and still is except he lacks direction.
Should someone else be paying attention?

I am not alone.

There are others riding along too, including
a lackadaisical high school dropout, whose only motivation
is his parents’ pocketbook and the promise of a Friday night booze up.

How did he get here?

You can ride along with us if you like, but be warned
the vehicle is outdated, and there is no separation between seats
so we you’ll have to squish in.

They don’t make ’em like this anymore.

Oh yeah, and my crazy sister is aboard,
or that may be me, ’cause I swear I saw the ghost of another,
coming back to haunt me along the way.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not driving.

Night is falling, and we stop for gas
and the neon lights of the convenience store remind me,
if I’m going to make a break, it’d best be now.

Or I could find a new driver.

What if I put God at the wheel?
What if I said, God, give me direction, take me somewhere?
Would I have to sit up straighter and pay attention?
Would the adulteress and the sloth have to leave?

Would driver *1 have to be on his best behaviour,
and misguided #2 finally find guidance?

Would my vehicle become a golden chariot,
powered by horses with wings of white?

And we would fly above the obstacles
straight to the promised land?

No, this is just a fantasy, but a good one no doubt.
Instead, I’ll just ride along in this backseat
until life restores my vitality, and my head is clear again.

Then I’ll park this old vehicle.

And get a new one with GPS.

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Whale Dreaming

I dream: 

We are in an open row boat, crossing a river, when I see a dark shape in the water below.  “That looks like a whale” I say.  “But how can it be?”  Yet as I watch the figure pass and emerge from the water, my suspicions are confirmed:  it is a whale.  It breaks free of the water and appears like a cartoon of a whale hovering over the river. “We are on the St Lawrence” Ric offers, and I understand, but how did we get here? 

Back home, my cousin drops by.  “I have rented a cottage in PEI, and I’m looking for someone to join me,” she says.  “I’ll put the word out,” I respond before realizing that I could join her.  Why not?  “I was hoping for that,” she smiles.  We make our plans – whether to go by car or fly.  I am excited.  “You can see whales from the shore,” I exclaim. 

Well, whales are different from snakes, and hopefully, an improvement.  We have been whale-watching twice, and both times it has been incredible, and awe-inspiring.  Whales are gentle creatures, despite their size.  To be close to a whale is to marvel at the power and grace of Nature.

So why whales?

Dreams bring us symbols and metaphors that speak to what lies below our conscious, ego, selves.  For the past seven months, my husband has been battling cancer as well as trying to heal from two accidents, and now four surgeries.   Up until a few weeks ago, we have both attempted to keep up with the normal pace of life, but the pressure has broken me, and I have succumbed to the stress.  I am exhausted by the emotional and psychological strain, physically incapable of keeping up.

It is as if we are crossing a wide river in an open row boat – crossing a wide, unknown river, with little protection from the elements – yes, that is how it feels.  We keep going even though we feel inadequate and we aren’t quite sure we know where this is leading us.

It is as if a large creature lurks in the water below us.  That large creature could be cancer, loss of life, or healing and renewal.  We have no way of knowing right now.  In the dream, it looks like a whale, but it ends up being a cartoon caricature of a whale.  Does that mean that my imagination has got the better of me, or that what appears to be so overwhelming will, in the end, seem trivial?

It is as if I have an opportunity to travel to P.E.I. with my cousin.  The cousin in my dream was one I looked up to and admired.  She suffered ill health for much of her life, but maintained an attitude of quiet acceptance until her death at the age of 53.  To have the chance to spend some time with her would give me new perspective and understanding.  P.E.I is not a place I have ever visited, but have been interested in.  It exemplifies simplicity and rural peacefulness, although my brother says it is too commercial.  He thwarted my one attempt to visit P.E.I. by rerouting me to Grand Manan, an island in the Bay of Fundy.  I definitely watched whales off the coast of this tiny island, and they accompanied our ferry ride to and fro.  It was the highlight of my trip.

So how does this dream apply to my life right now?  In the dream, I seem to lack clarity, not picking up on the signals and opportunities.  I am not aware of where I am, and question what I see, and when opportunity does come my way, I am slow on the uptake.

I do feel confused, and lacking clarity right now.  I worry that I am not taking the right course of action, and that I might be missing out on important opportunities.  While my husband seems to know where we are, I do not have my bearings.

In the dream, I am hoping to see whales.  How is this a metaphor for my life?  I want to experience the numinous – I want to feel the presence of something larger than life, something so magnificent that it will make me stop in awe and believe again.

I need a sign or an omen that will waken me from this nightmare of survival and remind me once again, that while this is one ‘whale of a tale’ that we are living, it only a moment in the greater scheme of things.  I need to be reminded of the miracle of Nature.

I need to remove myself from the constant churning of fear and anxiety and retreat to a place where time stands still and simplicity is the norm.  I need to slow down and let my heart calm.

(Image:  sam1311415102.blogspot.com)

 

Riding Without A Handlebar

I have retrieved my old bicycle and am happily pedaling down the street when I realize that the handlebars are missing.  How could I not have noticed that my handlebars are missing?  What have I been steering with?  On closer examination, I notice that there is a partial bar protruding where the handlebars used to be, which seemed to be working for me, but how precarious!  How did I expect to manoeuver over bumps without something solid to hang onto? 

The question that arises for me is not whether or not I can “surf” the chaos – I know that I can – but how does someone raised in a pattern of chaos and dysfunction, learn to ride the calm of normalcy?

I am strong in the face of adversity, but not so strong when things are going well.  There is an underlying anxiety, or nervousness that something is not right, or just around the corner.  I would love to be able to embrace the joy of life, without fear of its instability.

The bike in my dream is reminiscent of the one I received for my ninth birthday.  It had a big banana seat, and long looping handlebars, that rose up above the front tire, in a sweeping ‘u’.  My first wheels of independence, I rode that bike everywhere, confident that I could outride anyone in the neighbourhood.   I still have visions of myself leading a pack of riders down some of our best hills.  Such a feeling of freedom!

In those days, when my handlebars were intact, I was confident of my abilities.  I had a strong sense of purpose, and felt ready to face the challenges ahead of me.  I had a vision.

According to the dream, I gave that bicycle away at some point, and have only just now retrieved it, a little worse for wear.  Amazingly, it still fits me.  The tires are intact; and the seat supportive, but the big sweeping ‘you’ is missing.  So, it is.  Life’s bumps, and times where I no longer had ownership, have eroded that very mechanism that helped me navigate.

I don’t want to be nine again, but I would like to regain the momentum that allowed me to climb those steep hills and soar down those hills, fearless, impassioned, and in the moment: free.

If this bike is going to work for me, I’ll need something new to hang onto.  Something more conservative and practical.  Something that gives me stability and control, and supports me when choosing a direction.

 

 

Risking Excellence

I am with my son’s friend, and we are headed to meet John downtown where he will be competing in a skateboard competition.  John is a very gifted skater and the odds are good that he will win, but he is nowhere to be found.  As time passes, I feel more and more anxious that something has happened to him, and begin to search in closets and corners, anticipating I am going to find him dead.  Suddenly, a car pulls up, dumps a body, and squeals away.  A crowd gathers, and as I make way through, I know it is John.  He is not dead, but severely beaten, enough to stop him from competing.

I wake up,  immediately afraid for my son, but once I am conscious enough to remember the focus of today’s writing, I realize the dream is about me.

I was eight-years-old when school officials began to pull me out of class and subject me to a series of tests.  “She is gifted,” they told my parents,” and we would like to accelerate her one grade and enroll her in a special class with her peers.  She will have to attend school across town, and transportation is not provided.”

My mother didn’t know what to think.  I was a girl, and according to her, girl’s who were smart did not do well in life. (Doing well, in my mother’s eyes, was being a stay-at-home mom with a husband who made a lot of money.)  My father supported the decision.

Gifted children often feel like an anomaly, and I was no exception.  I knew I didn’t fit in at the regular school, but I somehow always felt like they made a mistake with me and I didn’t belong in the gifted class either:  these kids were so smart and, well, geeky.  I didn’t think I fit the mold.  Academically, however, I thrived.  The self-contained classroom was far more engaging and intellectually stimulating.  I loved school!

After school was another matter.  While I was driven across town each morning, I had to take two city buses home each afternoon, arriving long after my old classmates had been dismissed for the day.  The bullies waited for me, and I soon became game for their taunting, and physical abuse.    When we moved out of town in the middle of grade eight, I was thrown in with the regular population and the rift was apparent.  A town thug was hired to beat me up one day after school.

I learned to hide my abilities, and refrained from competing with others.  I developed the expectation of being beaten, both literally and figuratively.

As I’ve mentioned before, John shares my introspective side – that part of me that doubts, questions, and turns things over and over.  The friend that accompanied me in the dream suffers from depression and delusions.  I have that side to myself also.  Combine the introspection with the inability to see beyond negative thinking and there is an expectation of futility:  why try?

John is a gifted skateboarder, and if the dream was real, I would encourage him to hire a bodyguard and go for it.  By objectifying the issue, is the dream telling me the same?  While you may have been beaten at times, you still hold the same bright potential, so don’t give up.  Just let go of the expectations.

A Serene Marriage

I have been invited to Scott L’s house and even though I haven’t seen him since high school, I am excited.  I first met Scott in grade school, and fell in love immediately.  While we would be best of friends throughout our school years, our love would never blossom. I am hoping the invitation now means that he is ready to reciprocate feelings and we will be together.  I arrive at his home to find my cousin Serene.  I am delighted to see her, and surprised that she and Scott know one another.  Scott is not here yet, and while we wait for him, we are connecting the dots.  How they know each other and why Serene is here. It turns out that they are about to get married and that is why I have been invited.  I try to be happy for them, as I love them both, but I can’t help but feel disappointed.  I have wished for this for so long.

We’ve all had those dreams of unrequited love from which we awaken sure that we are missing something that only the other person can give us.  Wishful thinking is one of the evils that spiritual teachers will caution against.  While the emotional pull is so strong, the temptation is only that:  a threat to the self.

There is no moment but now, and how we respond to what we have is all that counts.  The more I dream about a love that never was, but could be, or wish for that perfect job, or dream home, or other life, the less I am contributing to my current circumstances.  I am unhappy because I am choosing to be.

When we remember an old love, we are remembering a person frozen in time, unchanged.  We have not allowed for the fact that they, like us, have lived life, suffered losses, had successes, and built lives for themselves.  We are not considering that their current life and self may not even resemble the person we once knew.  Wishful thinking is all about the ideal and nothing to do with the reality.  It is wasted energy.

If I look at the dream metaphorically instead, I will consider what I loved about these two people and how fitting this dream is for my life today.  Scott was loyal, straightforward, and trustworthy.  Serene is bubbly, optimistic, and warm.  If the Scott part of me, the loyal, trustworthy side, were to marry the fun-loving, warm side what possibilities could that open in my life?  Well, I finally made the commitment last night and joined Weight Watcher’s.  Could this mean that with the right level of commitment and attitude, I can make it work?

Sounds like a marriage of success!  Now, that I can get excited about.

Mickey Mouse Meets Gestalt

Looking out from under the big white wooden chair, I can see Mickey Mouse approaching with a kettle of boiling water.  He’s going to pour the water on me, and even though my family are all around, and I am screaming, no one notices. 

“I had this dream repeatedly as a child, from about the age of five.”

“What is the significance of the white chair?”

“My father used that chair to teach us how to skate.  We had to push it around the rink until we learned to stay up on our own.  I remember being very frightened, because my father wasn’t a patient man and I didn’t want to upset him.”

“What would happen if you upset him?”

“He would yell, call us names, tell us how stupid and incompetent we were.”

“Why Mickey Mouse?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve often wondered about that.  Mickey Mouse would have been the prominent cartoon character back then, and I loved watching the Mickey Mouse Club on TV.  I really wanted to be a Mouseketeer.”

“In Gestalt therapy, the belief is that each aspect of the dream represents a part of you.  Would you be willing to try something with me?”

I nod.

“I want you to put yourself back in the dream and let me guide you.  Imagine you are five years old again, and let me know when you can picture the scene.”

I close my eyes and remember.  “Okay.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Frightened, very frightened.”

“Tell me what’s happening. Talk it out.”

“Mickey Mouse has a kettle of boiling water and he’s going to pour it on me.  I scream, but no one is paying attention.  I can see my Dad and my sister Joanne, but they are not looking my way.”

“What do you want to say to them?”

“Help me!  Help me!  Can’t you see I’m in trouble?  Somebody stop this from happening!”

“Tell them what’s happening.”

“He’s going to hurt me.  That man is going to hurt me.  Please, somebody stop it!  Listen to me!”

“Tell them what you need.”

“I need you to hear me.  I need you to see what’s happening. I need you to see me.  Nobody sees me….”  I break off crying.

“Tell me why you are crying.”

“My childhood home was very chaotic.  There was always lots of fighting going on, and although I don’t remember much of the early years, my mother says I was always tossed over the fence to the neighbour’s house, so they could look after me. ”

“Why do you think this dream has stayed with you?”

“I never felt like I mattered in my family growing up.  There was so much going on that I felt insignificant.”

“In every family there is a rivalry for attention.  How did that play out for you?”

“Well my oldest sister was always sick, so she got most of the attention, and my next sister withdrew into herself, and later we found out she was schizophrenic.  My youngest sister was a handful, throwing tantrums and being difficult to get along with.  I tried to stay out of the way, and not cause any more trouble.”

“So what did you try to do to get noticed?”

“Achieve.  I tried to be the smartest and the most successful?”

“How did that work for you?”

“It didn’t.  I never felt like I could be good enough, and when I did do something worthwhile I got shot down for bragging about it.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Not so much.  I’ve struggled with not feeling good enough, but I don’t need the glory anymore.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Maturity.  Life experience.  When I first learned how to do Therapeutic Touch I did a lot of volunteer work, and I soon realized that there were many people whose lives were worse off than mine, and that by giving a little bit of my time, I could make a difference.  It felt so amazingly rewarding to help another, that I realized how unimportant everything else was.”

“So what would you tell that little girl today?”

“Well, first of all, I’d reach in under that chair and offer her my hand; then I’d pull her to me and give her a great big hug and tell her that I love her.”

“Tell her as if she is here.”

Come on, Sweetheart, lets walk away from all this commotion.  You are okay now.  I am here, and I can see you, and I’m not going to let that man hurt you. 

Why doesn’t anyone see me?

Because they can’t right now, Honey.  They can only see their own pain, but that doesn’t mean you’re not important.  You matter very much. 

Are things going to get better?

Eventually, but not for a long time.  But I want you know that you will be okay.  You will be better than okay. 

Why are you here?

Because I think it’s important that you know you are perfect just the way you are. 

“Do you feel better?”

“I feel like I have had a breakthrough.”

“How so?”

“I understand now that the little girl in me sought attention for a long, long time, and I don’t need to do that anymore.  It feels lighter.  Achievement is good in and of itself.  The need for glory only taints it.”

“And Mickey Mouse?”

“Well that’s just what we become when we seek out fame and fortune, I guess.  Burned.”

 

Creativity and Self Definition

I dream that I am walking across an open field.  The landscape is barren, and dry, and a wind storm is whipping up, with low menacing clouds.  I am headed to the farm, where I raised my children, and where my ex-husband still lives.  I am living in the city, in the basement of  a raised ranch with hand-me-down furniture.  While the apartment is bright, because of the high windows, it is still a basement.  I am walking against the weather, despite the weather, because I want to finally settle something with my ex; call a truce.  He is processing wood – putting it through a machine and creating little piles of wood chips and lots of sawdust in his large open shop.  He keeps working and ignores my presence.  My mother arrives in a car and has a present for him.  My older sisters show up also.  They are in the main house primping, and trying to show me how to make myself more attractive.  I just want to clear the air, but there are too many distractions.

I always say that creativity is the process by which we define and then express ourself.   In the dream, I am influenced by the women in my family, the inclement weather, and an ex-spouse who is preoccupied.  I chuckle at the dream’s image of my older sisters preening, as growing up it was impossible to find a mirror that was not taken over by one of my sisters.  It was part of the reason I chose to be a tomboy; it was easier than trying to get bathroom time for grooming.

In my family, women were expected to be pretty, under educated, and submissive to men.  My older sisters were both beautiful, and took secretarial skills at school, leaving after grade 11, so they could get a job and find a man.  I did not fit this mold.  Taking after my father in looks,  I had a receding chin, and wore glasses.  I was also ‘gifted’ and aspired towards a university degree.  I was outspoken and pro women’s lib.  My mother told me daily that no one would ever love me; she worried about my future.  I felt my mother’s legacy fulfilling itself, when my second, and former husband told me he had never loved me after seventeen years together.  I left that marriage believing that I was unlovable.

I thought I had worked through all that.  I am in a relationship now with a husband who constantly demonstrates his love for me.  So why, in my dreams am I going over old territory?  And what does this have to do with creativity?

Maybe the dream is reminding me that if we define ourselves within the context of our environment, then we are limited.  If we are to expand our sense of self, we must be able to see beyond the landscape of our past.  In terms of health, my mother has had numerous issues, including three rounds of cancer; my oldest sister suffered illness all her life; and my next older sister is debilitated by schizophrenia.  None of them escaped the limitations of victimhood to experience either successful careers or relationships.

I believe that the purpose of dreams is always to bring positive movement in our lives.  This one left me feeling hopeless, unwanted, unseen or heard – much like my childhood.  I need to envision a new reality for myself.  I need to create new possibilities instead of searching and re-searching the experiences that will never serve to define me as anything less than inadequate.

(Image:  wallpapers-kid.com)