Wow! I just had a doozy of a dream. Because of my recent fascination with dream mythology, dream interpretation, and the images that represent the collective psyche of the feminine spirit, I am going to share before the images leave me for good.
Lying in bed wearing my daughter’s Halloween costume
A Bollywood dancer.
I hear my husband talking to her in the distance,
getting ready for school but discussing a sleepover
at a house owned by radicals.
She cannot go there, I scream in my head.
My husband enters the bedroom
the silky fabrics of my costume begin to lead to romance
but we start a serious discussion instead
about our daughter.
Suddenly my brother enters eating ice cream out of a carton
The scene shifts, yet I am still wearing the pink and orange Bollywood costume.
I am now in some kind of beauty/talent competition
Both a contestant and an organizer.
But I am told by the head organizer (who is a person I shall not name but was recognizable ) that I cannot win
Because my name is not big enough
Because I am not a so-called professional.
I volunteer to take one of the “professional judges” to his hotel.
A person unknown to me.
We have dinner.
My husband joins us.
Italian food soaking in watery red sauce.
As we eat the discussion turns back to the sleepover
and the scary family.
I sit and worry about my daughter as the restaurant turns into a bus
We pass a smooth clear ocean,
bright pastel blue.
I leave the table to get closer to the smell of the waves and the feeling of the spray; but I am still watching it through the windows of the bus.
Standing balanced as the bus wobbles across the road.
The ocean shifts
Boiling white waves crashing toward the bus, spray shooting into the air.
I move forward to a single seat
feet encased in mud.
I watch the spray and start to cry
but the women behind me ignore my tears
They chatter away as if nothing is happening.
I try to scrape the mud off of my feet
while watching the power of the ocean.
I talk on the cell phone,
“If you harm my daughter, I will send every Nazi hunter in the world after you,” I say.
The ocean continues to crash, while someone tries to drive through it in a car towing a bunch of belongings;
not packed away, but small pieces of life laid out on a flat bed for all to see.
One woman behind me says, “I can’t believe they are doing that!” and laughs.
I can’t believe it either, I cry more.
The mud clings to my feet more thickly
and . . .
Then, my obnoxious dogs decide to have a bark-howl fest for absolutely no reason that I can see other the fact that I was sleeping and everyone else had left the house. My dogs don’t howl unless they are lonely or they hear sirens going by (they learned to howl at those because of the Great Dane next door). So I was forced out of the dream when I felt like I was approaching something, and yet I don’t know what. I clearly understand some of this dream. I also know what some of the things are supposed to represent. But this dream, with vivid details including color, smell, taste and its bizarre mixture of people and scene shifts feels important to me somehow.
Why were my feet covered with mud? Why did the women ignore my tears? Why was I crying?
I want to understand this dream.
Does anyone out there have a clue about what it means?