More on Dreaming

Jan has written a fascinating and thoughtful analysis of my recent dream on her blog, "A Skeptical Mystic.", for which I thank her very much. On Friday and over the weekend, she and I corresponded about this dream, and for the most part I agree with her interpretation. I decided to share with you some of what I wrote to her about the more personal aspects which she didn't necessarily know; there are definitely universal symbols in human dreams (such as water often representing consciousness) but for each of us, at particular times, those symbols may point in different directions which only we can figure out and put in the context of our particular life at a particular time.

It's also true that many dreams are forgettable, because they don't have the power or import of one like this. I dream every night and usually remember at least parts of those dreams - you can train yourself to remember them - but most of the time they're jumbles of ideas or images or situations I can easily trace back to my waking life, recent or remembered, and while they may be interesting, silly, scary, or even absurd, they sort of make sense by themselves and don't seem to be trying to tell me anything. But occasionally one comes along that is markedly different, as Jan also describes in her post, and those I try to write down and work with over the succeeding days, or even return to much later.

Here's an edited version of what I wrote to Jan:

The Canadian Anglican church really is dying and without an infusion of new energy and mission it's essentially finished, I think, but both clergy and parishioners are clinging to the past. I'm convinced that there is a broad, all-encompassing life force of which we are all part, and wisdom to be gained not only from the religious teachings common to all the great teachers but from nature, meditation in solitude, and relationship. Stepping "out" of the church is something I feel myself doing anyway.

Your explanation of the igloo and frozen water also make sense to me and are helpful. There's something in the dream, I think, about the new life being born within something that feels alien, frozen, and must be entered by a narrow passageway. My best take on that is that this actually is my new life in Canada, as well as my creativity in whatever direction it next goes, because my resistance has been to moving here permanently and fully embracing it. We sold our house this past summer and have been settling our affairs, but it's taken until the New Year, actually, before I've felt fairly settled physically and emotionally and was able to begin to look ahead rather than feel I was in that transition zone between lives. I've felt my resistance "melting", though we don't see that in the dream, and although I can't see the next project or big direction yet, I'm certainly getting ready to look for it or open to it. What the dream says to me (so far) is that the life ahead is up here, in Canada, and that I'm right to let go of the past and step into this new sunlit but cold landscape and look for what's under the water inside that igloo!

More complex are the figures of the three "guides" in the dream: the Inuit man, the pregnant woman, and the dog or wolf. A friend who is a Jungian analyst once told me it helps to get into a meditative place and consciously re-enter the dream, asking each figure in it what they want to tell me, and noting what happens in the "conversation" that follows, trying to just let it happen naturally, without intellectually "directing" the thoughts. I've found that works sometimes - have you ever tried this? And other times I feel I can't get "out of the way" enough to "hear" any wisdom that might not be simply my own thinking from a superficial place. But this dream is powerful enough that I think I'll try it. Once thing I do feel is that all these figures were completely benevolent; both humans were encouraging, friendly and gentle, and the dog was a potential companion.

Over the weekend, my attempts at meditating with these "guide figures" were completely fruitless, and I could feel I was too distracted. I did become convinced that the igloo represents a kind of cathedral, in its domed shape and the light that comes into it through the snow and ice: it is not a dark place, but rather a pure and light one.

Jan had suggested that I try "programming" my dreaming, so last night, feeling very skeptical, I did that, concentrating mostly on the dog-figure as I went to sleep and again when I woke up in the night. Well, I had another dream just before morning, also set in a snowy but overcast landscape, with a lot of running around on cross-country skis that didn't work properly, and I didn't have the right bindings or boots and spent a lot of time searching for them - typical dream stuff for me. In the dream I enjoyed being on skis in the snowy woods - although I don't ski anymore (and was mostly a downhill skier), being out in nature in the winter mountains was the part of skiing I loved most, and had a definite spiritual aspect. My husband was skiing with me, as he usually did, and there were other people in the dream, including two benevolent friends from my current life, both musicians, who owned the house from which we set off, and, surprisingly, a young man from my distant past who arrived with his wife, a young woman I identified this morning as someone I know now, about the age this young man was when I knew him. How odd that my mind has put them together, but they fit perfectly: both are interested in simplicity and living off the land. In the dream, we were all sitting at a table, and she turned to me and quietly said, "I know a lot about dealing with fear." There was nothing scary in the dream; it was as if she simply turned, looked into me, saw something, and spoke. In real life, this woman is not pregnant, so far as I know, nor is she someone who would claim particular wisdom -- but I think this was the same spirit-figure as in the previous dream. This young woman spent a year living in a Buddhist monastery, and it's quite obvious to me this morning that the message of this second dream is first, to revive and rediscover, in my new context, the spiritual relationship I've always had with nature and wilderness, and to turn again toward meditation and revive my practice as a means of working with resistances I may be currently holding onto.

Do I believe that dreams like this come to us from the outside, somewhere? Yes and no. I've had enough experiences of a spiritual or mystical nature that I do believe there is something more than my own consciousness which exists as a stream into which we can tap. There is deep knowledge in shared human experience and in nature, and there is a power I choose to call universal consciousness which can lead us, I think, both toward the discovery and fulfillment of what we are meant to be and do as individuals, and the ability to go beyond that into love and unselfish giving for all other life. How much of this knowledge already exists within our subconscious, how much comes to us intellectually and through observation and experience, and how much is a matter of grace or gift (asked for or unbidden) are questions I doubt I'll ever answer. What's clear to me (and to everyone else who's done it) is that being on a spiritual path is a choice; it takes openness and work; there are dry periods when nothing seem to happen; and there are both moments of insight and periods of growth that are more like what Shunryu Suzuki called "getting wet in the fog". I suspect that dreams, coming from the subconscious, often tell us things we already know, deep inside, and can affirm a point we've perhaps come to without realizing it. I don't know. What I do know is that these types of dreams have been worth my attention.

I'm quite amazed by this experiment with active dream-work, and plan to continue. What do you think? Are you skeptical?

Comments

[dale]

Nope.

[Mouse]

No, I am not at all sceptical
My own dreams are very enlightening, though rather unsettling and all point to The Answers
Now perhaps my subconcious desires are trying to overcome my fears but, who knows...

[zuleme]

I am not at all skeptical, I find life so astounding that I believe anything is possible. A poster of Alice at the Tea Party hangs in our kitchen.
That said, I really do think you should go cross country skiing. You live near a fantastic ski place near St. Ann's (I think I have that right). I was up there with friends years ago and we had a cottage all by itself on a lake. Feet of snow (many feet) and almost no one there. It was glorious. I remember there being a long trail with cabins but we didn't have time to attempt it. But I remember the stillness and peace of the place and we imagined wolves running across the frozen lake under the full moon.

[Beth]

Thank you, Dale, Mouse, Zuleme. I'm glad to hear you don't think I'm nuts for paying attention to these dreams, and thanks, Z. for the recommendation of the cross-country ski place. I will look!

(Zuleme, I've tried to send you email but it's always returned. Do you have a different address?)