So, Ariel is at it again. Dreaming. When Ariel was a child, we lived way in the country of New Hampshire. My kids went to Pine Hill Waldorf School. It was a bit of a commute in our VW bus, not because it was far away, but because the dirt roads and the hilly territory were often a challenge. I mean that. Another challenge was getting the kids ready and out in the morning. And part of that particular challenge was that Ariel meticulously recounted her dreams from the night before.
I mean meticulously. I mean every detail and corrections and going back if she missed a bit. We were truly interested. I didn't dream that much and certainly didn't recall that much. Somehow we knew it was special, yet we had to get on with the day. So, while making lunches and finding mittens and racing around, we tried to pay attention.
But my attention was not worth much because I didn't have any framework for knowing what her dreams meant. I still don't have much. She, however has learned a lot about her dreams. She is still leading an extremely rich life during her sleep. At one point when she was in college, her dreams were disturbing. Seriously disturbing. We found her a Jungian dream annalist to see. It didn't help that his offices were in an old Gothic former mental hospital. Let us add ghosts to the dreams. Ariel had always been sensitive to ghosts and spirits around. This building was right out of a horror movie. Even I could practically hear the screams of the suffering inmates.
I think he was a big help to her, that guy. And now, many years later, I find myself listening to her dreams and we are both hoping to gain some insight.
In my sketchy and positively minimal understanding about dreams and from my own personal experience, I have gleaned a few tidbits. I discount dreams as 'livery' or 'kitchen nightmares' if I have eaten a lot of cheese or chocolate right before bedtime. (same goes for booze, I assume) They don't usually offer any deep insights into my unconscious.
It is an interesting Jungian perspective to look at every person in your dream as yourself; the baby, the brat, the goddess, the farmer. It is also interesting for me to separate dreams into types I recognize. I do have the 'liver" dreams, but I also have recurrent dreams and prophetic dreams.
It is not hard to recognize the recurrent dreams, duh, they reoccur. I had two that kept coming back during the 21 years I was married and stopped dead when we split up. One was a kind of Andrew Wyeth scene on a small farm on the Maine coast. I was in the field next to the house. A strong breeze was blowing. I was hanging things on the clothesline. The 'things' were clam shells. They were blowing and rattling in the breeze. That's it. Year after year, I saw this scene in my dream. I need you Dr. Jung. And when it was over, it never returned.
The other dream I had during those years, I think of as a past life dream. I was a beautiful, dark skinned young woman in India. I assume that I was Muslim. I was with a bunch of people on the street, mostly very young people, men and women. We were yelling and screaming and throwing rocks at a handsome upper caste young man riding through the countryside on an elephant. He was so high above us (super elephant?) that our noise and protests could hardly reach him. We were the angry peasant rabble and he was not.
Gets confusing if I think I was all the characters. Never did figure that one out and then it was gone.
There was this dream which I think of a prophetic one. It was a one off, but it was in super vivid color and clear sound. The kids and I were living in the magical cabin in Temple, New Hampshire. It was the one with the mile long dirt driveway built on a little quarry pond. The one built around two pine trees that grew through the roof. I had gotten divorced and it was untenable to stay there. I used to say that the house had all of the luxuries and little or none of the necessities. We had a six foot fabulous bath tub, but the pump often didn't work. We had a giant stone fireplace, but no heat. I had to sell and move to somewhere where I could work and take care of my kids.
The house sale proved to be one of those nightmares. We had 33 acres, but no legal road access. It was an oasis and on and on. Buyers came and sales fell through. I was getting pretty desperate. A fabulous buyer came along and then had a heart attack right before the sale. Blah, blah.
In the dream there was a pirate ship, very old, very decayed, very rustic, very romantic (just like the house). There was a swash buckling buccaneer up on the mast yelling cheers and threats to the wind as the decayed ship was being chased by many other ships. A storm was raging. The ships timbers were groaning. The crew was trembling and wanted to cave in and stop the chase. The chasing ships had herded the pirate into a situation in which he was headed at full sail towards the shore. Doom was certain not matter what. Everyone was screaming. Then the ship hit shore and the storm stopped, the sun came out. The other ships disappeared. Everyone was safe.
Thank you, Jesus. I awoke having no fear about the house sale. The sale took a good while and more drama ensued and then, just as in the dream, it all was done, everyone was fine, and life moved on.
In that dream I know I was every character. I have a lot of swash buckle, but I have a lot of fear and trembling also. I look forward to hearing more of Ariel's dreams and her wisdom about what they are telling her.
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