Something Grates

The Dream: We have a guest cottage on the property. Three standing grates have been installed to keep people from inadvertently falling into holes. We have some visitors staying in the cottage, and when we drop in to visit we notice they've replaced these decorative black wrought-iron grates with larger ones made of an unattractive gray plastic. This seems presumptuous on another's property and, besides that, I'm not sure they are properly installed.

Interpretation: The standing grates represent three issues, of long standing, that I find irritating (grating), but that I have avoided with a cover up rather than a fix. The guests (something from the outside; for example, distractions) try to fix this by putting covers over the the pits I could fall into. They want to keep me safe, but in the end the dream teaches me that my salvation won't come from the outside: the new “protectors” are unattractive, gray (ambiguous), and not properly installed. When I react to the guests' efforts as being “presumptuous” I acknowledge that this is not the solution. I must take a good look at the holes, figure out what caused them, and fix them properly rather than cover them up.

Bald as an Egg

The Dream: I'm attracted to a small, unappealing, no longer young little man. His head is egg-shaped, and he's as bald as an egg. We are close to having sex when I remember that I'm a married woman.

“I've never cheated on my husband,” I say. But at the moment I say it, I'm planning to. Suddenly the mood changes; it's as if this practical consideration has awakened others, and I no longer want to go through with it. He also seems to have lost interest. In fact, he might have lost interest before I did.

Interpretation: In my youth an egg-head was anyone who appeared intelligent. In the dream I'm attracted to the intellect passionately, but it doesn't seem practical, partially due to my age (like the little man, I'm no longer young) and partially due to the fact that intellectual pursuits are innately impractical. In any case, the dream tells me that I see them as inappropriate. By cheating on my husband (animus) I ignore, or attempt to ignore, the practical contingencies of life, but soon discover I'm not really interested in following this path. With this fizzling of passion, the dream points out that I need to ask myself just what it is that I'm "married" to, and whether or not it's time for a new interest.

Experimenting on Myself

The Dream: A woman inside a test tube or beaker.

Interpretation: I'm feeling bottled up, but—at the same time—I'm becoming experimental, ready to try new things.

What am I Looking For?

The Dream: I see my friend with a drink and want a glass of wine, even though I've just finished one and feel slightly tipsy. I go to the circular bar, in a room that separates the one I'm in from an adjoining theater. From the entry it looks as if I need to circle around to the back to get the bartender's attention, but once I do I realize that's not right: I need to go back to the place where I started. As I get near the bar—my turn is next—an older lady and her daughter shove in front of me. “I'm next,” I tell them. They don't seem offended, but on the other hand while they smile and appear to acquiesce, they push past me and get the bartender's attention.

The bar staff, in stage makeup, leave the bar to join the troupe in the theater. A woman, in particular, is clownishly made up—very white skin, with a little bow mouth. She's dressed like a flapper in pinkish lavender with cheeks and curly hair to match. She's middle-aged or older. The man's style matches hers. They resemble Otto Dix caricatures.

I'm left standing at the deserted bar, still waiting for my drink. On their way out one of bartenders says, “Look at yourself, you're ridiculous.” Then I realize how silly I look, futilely standing at the deserted bar waiting to be waited on.

I leave, in search of –I don't know what. I go into room after room of bunk beds, many of them filled with couples lying together suggestively, no doubt having sex, but discreetly. Some are alone in these bunk beds, all occupied, all jammed close together. People are covered with blankets, yet I have a strong sense that something is going on underneath. I notice one couple: the young woman has long blond braids. I feel intrusive and uncomfortable, and I'm not finding whatever it is I'm looking for.

Interpretation: As the dream begins I look to numb myself: I want a drink even though I'm already tipsy. There's something I want to avoid. If there's a bar that prevents me from seeing what I need to see, there's also a bar to my numbing myself, and in this dream the literal bar is central to the action. Everything conspires to deprive me of my soporific—others press ahead of me, and the bartenders go off duty. As a parting shot they tell me I'm ridiculous (like the Otto Dix characters), and I have to admit they're right.

Having accepted their assessment of what I'm doing, I go in search of the thing I need. I discover people in intimate relationships—all jammed together. I realize that something is going on underneath (in my unconscious) that I've been unaware of. The dream hints that what I've missed, what's going on underneath, is a passionate wish for connection, symbolized here by sexual union.

The Missing Stroller

The Dream: I'm at a theatrical fund raiser. The event hasn't started. I've brought a friend's baby stroller as a donation. I had admired it, and she said she was going to get rid of it, so I offered to bring it to this worthy cause.

The event isn't well organized. I wander about trying to figure out who to give the stroller to. I decide to leave it near a downward spiraling ramp while I make some inquiries. I wonder if someone might run off with it, but reject the idea. Who would take a baby stroller?

Of course when I return, someone has. I am anxious, wondering how I'll explain this to my friend. I look everywhere, hoping the stroller will turn up. It doesn't, and I find out the organization wouldn't have accepted it in any case. Now my dilemma: am I obligated to buy my friend a new stroller? I don't want to, and I rationalize that she was going to junk it anyway—yet I feel replacing it is the right thing to do. I rehearse how I'll break the news to her, shortening the time of my absence, (“I turned my back for a moment and it was gone.”) and neglecting to mention I had entertained the possibility it might be stolen. (“I was shocked to find it gone.”) Despite these adjustments to reality, I can't get over feeling I should replace what I have lost.

Later this friend and I are at the fund raiser. In an inner sanctum the trope performs while we lounge like Romans in what looks like a city storefront. We're lined up perpendicular to the window on mattresses placed directly on the floor. I offer to replace the darn stroller, although I still don't feel I should have to. A big, heavy man is on my right; my friend on my left. At some point the man, about the size and girth of Doc Martin on TV, rolls over onto me in such a way that I fall off my mattress and am directly on the floor, with him partially on top of me. I complain, and he gives me a coupon to his restaurant and leaves. I study this list of freebies carefully, realizing that I can take someone with me--the coupon is a twofer.

Interpretation: This dream highlights a conflict between strolling around (taking it easy) and fulfilling my obligations. In the beginning I try to combine the two by donating my easy-going self (the stroller) to a good cause. In this misguided effort the easy-going self is taken away and, worse, I'm left with the moral dilemma of feeling I have to replace what wasn't wanted in the first place. I try to get around the problem by misrepresenting my responsibility for what happened, but that doesn't work either. When I finally face up to my responsibility by offering to replace what I've lost I'm ready to face one final challenge. A big, heavy (and grumpy—if he's anything like Doc Martin) man pushes me off the soft, comfortable spot (the mattress) and weighs me down. This man, situated to my right, symbolizes all the law and order, rules and must-do's that I've internalized. My complaint is a cry for freedom, and he responds by giving it to me (freebies). That the gift is a twofer tells me that not only can I (the responsible one) be nourished at his restaurant, but I can bring my inner stroller as well.

Free the Baby

The Dream: We're on a mission to rescue a baby. I get her to crawl to me from behind a chained apartment door. I take her and run, but the others in the rescue group are ambivalent. They want to rescue to girl, but they are also afraid of the hooligans on the other side. When I get outside to the car, I want to get in and flee, but the group stalls just long enough for an officious, sleazy-looking lawyer to threaten us. I persist in taking the child, and Clark tells me the lawyer has photographed us; so I know the hooligans will come after us and kill us if they can.

Interpretation: This baby resides with hooligans, so I can guess that she shares their traits. She is the small part of me that doesn't want to behave. I'm determined to save this spontaneous part of myself, and I have no respect for the lawyer, representing morally suspect rules and convention, who tries to intimidate me. He's officious and sleazy. There's freedom in this direction, even if I have to keep looking over my shoulder.

It's Hard to Change

The Dream: I'm to meet a group of women at  restaurant in a converted house. When I arrive I go into the restroom to change my clothes. In the process I misplace a sock, one of the thick wool socks I wear at night to keep my feet warm. I look everywhere, unable to find it. I am on my hands and knees going through what I think is a Lost and Found Box under the sink; it seems to have odd pieces: one glove, one sock, etc. A member of the establishment comes in and discovers me. I feel uncomfortable attempting to explain what I'm doing,and she says it's not Lost and Found, but a gift for the Father.

I give up on finding my sock. I haven't been able to change my clothes, and I think I might have more success if I go somewhere else. I leave the bathroom and find a small bedroom down the hall, go in, shut the door, and try to change. In short order someone appears, a young woman with dark short curly hair, slightly over-weight, round faced. It's her room. She's brought some friends, and I am clearly an intruder. I explain about needing to meet people at the restaurant and apologize for trespassing. I notice the time. It's 1:30 and I was supposed to meet my friends at 11:00. I realize with surprise how late it's gotten and rush off, hoping my friends will still be there.

Interpretation: This dream is about change, and the difficulty I'm having making one. The converted house points to a changed (converted) self, but I have cold feet: I can't find the thing (the warm sock) that will protect me. What am I having so much trouble changing? What have I lost that I can't find, and what does it have to do with Father-- my father? Our Father Who Art in Heaven? Is what we lose, over the course of our lives, a gift for the Father? Or could it be something I've lost and need to find again? Whatever it is, it's gotten under my skin (anagram for sink). I'm out of place; I can't find the right venue for my transformation, and it's later than I think.