Disturbing Dream

In my dream I felt so bad I started asking my friends for names of psychologists and psychiatrists I could go to for help. And I couldn’t figure out how to get from the first floor to the second floor of the house I was in. You could walk part way up the stairs, but then you had to reach high and pull yourself up over the wall. I could do this, but others in the house seemed to have a way to go between the floors that didn’t seem to be a struggle for them. And I couldn’t find my two little daughters. And I wasn’t sure if the two little toddlers were mine or I was just supposed to take care of them. They were on the second floor, but in childcare sometimes. I wanted to see them and see how they were doing, but I couldn’t.

It was one of those really believable dreams. In the middle of it, I wasn’t even suspicious that I was in a dream. It all seemed quite plausible. There were lots of people in the house. The woman in the room next to mine was being interviewed by a magazine writer. I tried to look busy so they wouldn’t notice how sad I was. I was trying to find a studio where I could work with clay. I didn’t have a job and I knew I was going to need money soon. I wandered around a studio and found a few old pieces of clay that I had worked on. One of them looked like a rock so I decided I must have been trying to make it look like a rock. I tried to put the finishing touches on it, but it broke into smaller pieces while I worked on it. I put it back in the water bucket with the rest of the recycling clay. I wanted to make some mugs but there was no wheel and the studio was closing down anyway. I didn’t know where to go or what to do.

The anxiety of our times touches us both in waking and sleeping. The disturbance is intensely personal, appearing in the shape of our particular demons and unearthing our primal issues of trust, competence and safety. But the source is not just personal. The zeitgeist of the moment finds expression and seeks resolution through each one of us. The fear many of us feel is not just our own. Our society is going through a period of deep disturbance. Our carefully curated sense of ourselves as a reasonable people of good will and fairness has been shattered.

Hence my jumbled and anxious dream. What to make of these bubblings up from the deeper regions? How can we dream into our dreams and receive the messages from the unknown?

One of the strongest images in my dream was feeling I was supposed to take care of these two young toddling daughters, but not being able to find them or even really know what my relationship was to them. So I wonder about the tender and feminine parts of myself—the parts that are not competent and responsible – but innocent and vulnerable. They need protection and care. In the dream that they did not seem to be in any danger, they were doing fine. It was me, the responsible one, who did not understand the system of care that was already established. Maybe the tip is to trust that even in these times of unrest, my inner daughters are doing just fine – being cared for by the daycare of the universe.

The other powerful feeling for me in the dream was being in the studio and not being able to find good clay or a potter’s wheel and wanting to make mugs. Over the months of my writing, I have often felt that these small essays are like mugs. They are small products of the moment that rise from my wheeling fingers on the keyboard. I spend time with each one, shaping and appreciating, then I let it go. Not a big production. Not perfect, but something nice to pass on to someone else. Maybe this dream is a reminder of the importance of these small acts of creation. When so much is out of my control, to continue to craft things of interest and beauty is a solace to me.

Perhaps this dream is about the book I am trying to put together. The first floor is the blog – all these disconnected pieces and the second floor is another published book that can go out to many more. Hard to get from here to there. Is it just another collection of these morning writings? What is the organizing principle? And who are the professional helpers (editors and writers) I might need to help me find my way? Maybe these are the psychologist and psychiatrists I need to consult.

Homework: (optional) Write down what you remember from the last dream you had. I hope you may be inspired and relieved by the disorganization of my dream—bits and fragments are fine. Then give yourself ten or fifteen minutes with a cup of tea to dream into your dream. What touched you? What is most alive as you remember? And what tips might this dream have for your waking self? Trust whatever arises and enjoy a little break from it all with a cup of tea.