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Electric Dreams Volume 01 Issue 07
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| Electric Dreams |
| Volume 1 Issue 7 |
| 12 June 1994 |
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| Please send suggestions, contributions, mailing list and back issue |
| requests to cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu or cbeatty@worf.uwsp.edu |
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Dedicated to sharing and exploring dreams
__________________________________________________________________________
Message Center
1. Notes for the Week has changed names, to the Message Center. If
anyone has their own editorial comments to make, or thoughts on the
newsletter as a whole, as opposed to comments on individual articles/
dreams/comments, this is where I will put it. You can think of it as a
letter to the editor section.
2. When sending email to Electric Dreams, you can send it to either
email address. It is not necessary to send to both, as I check both
frequently. It doesn't matter which one you use.
3. I would like to automate the newsletter a bit. I am trying to find
out if I can get a listserv 'bot to take care of subscribe and
unsubscribe requests. I would also like to make back issues available
via FTP. I'm still waiting on word from the higher ups here to let me
know if they can accommodate me in this. More news on this when I get
it.
4. I went a little over the 30 page limit, but everything looked so
good. So, should I try to stick to the 30 page limit, or should the
limit be upped to 40 pages?
Chris Beattie, Electric Dreams Mediator (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
{Some editing done for clarity}
I sincerely appreciate the work you and others put into this
newsletter, it is well worth it!! At first I really didn't think the
newsletter could possibly get as long as 40 pages, but judging by the
way things are going it might! I'd like to add that I really love the
recipes for teas and dream pillows. Thanks sooooo much Val! By the way,
I hear that dried hops can be added to a dream pillow mix to help with
insomnia.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
__________________________________________________________________________
Dream Comments
======Dream Snippets-Issue 4==============================================
On the part with the Chinese dragon greeting the bus full of
Japanese students...
Brett (we've been calling him BJ, but that isn't what Val and I
are used to calling him, so we've gone to calling him by his real name)
knows that to greet a bus full of _Japanese_ students with a _Chinese_
dragon, no matter how beautiful and well sculpted the dragon was, would
be considered insulting by the Japanese students. Japanese don't like
being confused with the Chinese.
Perhaps we had recently had a conversation on how dense most
U.S. citizens were when it came to people who were not from the U.S. At
the very least, maybe we had seen some Japanese animation recently.
I think the collapse of the Chinese dragon may have been an
effort on the part of your subconscious to put things right, and make up
for the rudeness (even if unintentional) of the social blunder that was
about to be made.
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
======Hasta La Vista-Issue 5==============================================
My reply to the responses to Hasta la Vista:
I am not aware of much significance to the date or number Aug.
14, other than knowing someone with that birthday. Maybe someday there
will be a clue about that. I am not looking for a relationship, not
contemplating having another. I am, however, very aware that this dream
marked a significant degree of self-acceptance.
In previous dreams where my ex returned with similar demands, I
always felt required to comply against my will. This time I allowed
myself to realize that although there would be one tangible benefit
called financial security, there would still be no emotional security
and no mutual respect. There was finally no question about my answer;
and I could celebrate my ability to do what was right for me.
Marilyn Brown (mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu)
======Egg-Issue
5=========================================================
This resembles many of the bizarre dreams I've had, Matthew. An
end-of-the-summer dream, huh? Let's keep that in mind; summer is usually
more of a social season (for me, anyway).
In the beginning (there was darkness) you're playing pool with
three other people--in two teams. I know what it's like to be on the
women's side. Do you feel more comfortable around women than around men?
At the time of the dream, was your social life sort of off-kilter (the
taking of sides and teaming up)?
Even though one of your opponents hit the ball, you're the one
who tries to set it right when the ball doesn't act as it should. Do
you normally leap in to fix what went wrong for other people? I mean,
there's nothing wrong with it--I've got an annoying habit of trying to
improve other people's lives whether they want me to or not.
The interesting thing about your trying to get the ball to go
down the hole is that no matter what you try it doesn't work. Were you
frustrated at the time of the dream? Was there something in your life
that you just couldn't figure out? Or maybe something that, for all your
good intentions, you couldn't put right?
The air escapes for the pool balls (volleyballs). To me that
suggests that something isn't what it seems on the surface, or that
something is in its improper place.
The other guy plays right away. I don't know how *you* play
pool, but I like it when team members alternate between turns--it
should've been your or your partner. But when he does go, something big
happens. You couldn't affect the ball, but he gets all the balls in
play. You start working with the results, but you're warned to be
gentle. Maybe, as you go into a situation, you should stop and consider
how you'll tackle it and maybe how you can work with the situation in the
easiest way for everyone involved.
What's an egg doing on the floor? Kind of a vulnerable, odd
place for such a fragile object. Why did you show it to the woman? Why
not the guys? And just because an egg is hard-boiled doesn't mean it's
inedible. Were you saving her from the egg or the egg from her? You
certainly protect her peace of mind (and possibly her lunch) when you
refuse to show her the half-developed foetus. That's something
unexpected and alarming, but you seem to have kept calm enough.
Your parents' house--a sense of stability? You're out and
running around, living life, but your parents' place (even if they just
moved there, the fact that it's their place) doesn't seem to be affected
by the whirlwind of change you encounter. So why is there a huge egg
there like an incubator, housing hundreds of dead chicken foetuses? Not
very effective protection for those ex-pre-chicks. An invasion of
privacy? An affront to normalcy?
Pulling a foetus out of your mouth. We must go to the same
diner. Well, I could put the ol' Freudian spin on it and relate that to
a twisted version of giving birth (or creation). But this is creation
of something you don't want; something that really disgusts and frightens
you. First there are failed attempts at creation right in your own
parents' home, then they take the extra step and invade your very body.
Are you responsible for the egg in your parents' hallway?
Bathrooms are something else I'm quite familiar with in dreams.
The bathroom (unless you've got a ratio of five people to one bathroom)
is a private place. In this case, you're the invader, but you have no
choice. You throw up and hit your head on the tap--two very ungraceful
manoeuvres at once, and in front of people. Socially, when you have to
throw up (hopefully this isn't often in mixed company), all pretense
drops. There isn't any way to put up a calm front and impress those
around you. But it's a natural reaction, and if you're working properly,
a beneficial one.
Finally, you're worried about a tooth falling out. For me,
losing teeth was always a background annoyance--I had to watch out what
I ate and how, I worried about when the thing would finally go and how
much I would bleed. It wasn't a really painful process, but it was
nagging. When you had this dream, there might have been something on
your mind, but in the background. An incessant worry that you couldn't
quite pin down. I hope you solved it.
Just a few suggestions and observations. Killer dream. :)
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======The Death of the President-Issue 6==================================
I'm not sure what this dream could mean, but here are a few
associations I made.
First, a person in authority, someone who was in some way
responsible for your welfare, has died. You are yourself in charge of a
group of school children, responsible for their welfare.
A person your own age, your peer, knew there was a problem, but
didn't know it was as bad as it was. He seemed to take the news harder
than you did.
You tried to keep the news away from the children, yet they
found out about the president's death anyway. They went home, meaning
they were no longer under your care.
Is there something you are afraid of telling someone, because
you feel they will take it too hard, or will leave you?
Maybe this dream occurred simply because of the recent deaths of
Richard Nixon and Jacqueline Kennedy?
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
You don't want to share important (and inevitable) information
with your students? Are you afraid you'll disturb them too much? This
is the death of a president--not only a powerful person, but a role
model, a symbol and a figurehead. Could it be that you're uncomfortable
with the news yourself? You hold vital information but you're not sure
how to deliver it.
You seem to feel comfortable talking with someone you feel
shares this knowledge, but there's a warning not to assume too much
about people (he doesn't knew all the info you thought he did). He
seems more sensitive to the situation than you do. Does he represent a
part of you, and if so, which part, do you think?
You drive around for a while--an escape?--but it's temporary,
and you know you have to go back. You're not deluding yourself. The
little girl is the only one left at the school after everyone goes home.
She's a very innocent bearer of news.
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
Reading this, I got the impression that in keeping back the news
about the president's death from the students you don't want to hurt
others with the truth. Yet, in this dream you are a teacher holding
back this information. You genuinely care for the students (otherwise
you wouldn't hold this back) but sometimes kids (and some of us adults,
too) would learn more seeing and knowing about the world's events, even
if they happen to be unpleasant.
Also, the image of "some ambiguous Presidential figure" reminds
me of the archtypical authority figure or "boss-man." The black man to
me seemed to be an image of escape from slavery, yet he is sad--worse
even--_inconsolable_ about The Man's death. Could this President have
been a "Great Man?" Definitely reminds me of J.F.K. or F.D.R.--Roosevelt
was sick before he died and both presidents did a lot for the equal
rights movement. From what my parents have told me, a lot of people
wept when these presidential figures died. Could you, in some way, be
grieving for or facing the loss of an authority/father figure like them?
And why are you holding it back from everyone else--especially young
people who could learn from it?
I was especially touched by the little girl figure at the end of
the dream. She seemed very grown up and must've known about the death
all along. Were you surprised by this? I'd also like to know if you
lived during the time of J.F.K.'s asassination--the recent death of
Jackie O' might have triggered this dream. Is there something from the
past you have yet to learn? Or, better yet, _teach_?
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Hummingbirds-Issue
6================================================
Perhaps you are searching for something. You follow one path
which ends up being a dead end (and a dangerous one at that, ie high
power lines). By the way, were the high power lines humming as well as
the birds? Perhaps this is a kind of song you are responding to. Anyway,
you head back toward country roads that remind you of home, perhaps you
decide to search closer to home for your answer.
A couple of humming birds seem to have been following you. I
don't know about you, but to me humming birds seem very positive.
Perhaps this indicates that the solution you were searching for was with
you all along, and it turned out to be much more positive and natural
for you to boot!
In light of some of your background you've allowed here, this
could be a metaphor for a quest for friendship, where one turned out to
be harmful and dead, and when you finally leave it, you find current
friendships much more positive and rewarding.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
Taking a peaceful walk is good on any plane. There is a sort of
solid comfort in the sound of gravel underfoot. Why did you obey the
sign to turn back? Weren't you curious about what was beyond? The
skewed real-life setting is a recurring theme in your dreams, isn't it?
The humming birds were at eye level. Neat. But I've gotten
closer that fifteen feet to humming birds in real life--why were you so
far? Did you want to step closer? Or were you content to observe them
from a distance? Maybe you were put off by snotty flickers. So were
they really flickers imitating humming birds, or humming birds imitating
flickers? Ask Val for the symbolism of these birds--and what it might
mean to have them blended like that.
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
When I imagine this as my dream, I am struck by the idea of
following a trail beneath a power line. The power line could either
represent my own power, or some power structure that is way out of my
reach.
In either case, I am instructed to change direction. So either
my own power is changing its direction, or I am no longer following my
power, or the "powers that be" will not let me continue on my chosen path.
The "rotten granite" underfoot is also very evocative for me.
Something that was once hard as rock, sturdy beneath my feet, is now
crushed. I enjoy this. Also, this rock is no longer being unearthed (no
quarry.)
I think of hummingbirds as nectar-drinkers, busy flitting from
flower to flower. So perhaps there are sweet things I may soon enjoy!
An alternate idea, if you go in for this sort of thing: Many
people who experiment with out-of-body travel state that buzzing and
vibration accompany this phenomenon. Your power line, followed by the
buzzing hummingbirds, could have been a representation of this phenomenon,
within your dream.
Pamela Ryan (pryan@prairienet.org)
At the beginning where you are "walking along a trail...with r
otten granite for a base" I got the impression that (since the dream
happened while you were stressed about work and exams) you have been
walking on decaying ground. The path you were on was narrow and limiting.
You probably realized that the path wasn't for you. Good thing you saw
that sign in time.
The country highway seemed to be more "your thing", eventhough
it was fairly busy--could be a personal symbol for your current job, you
like it and it keeps you busy. The highway could also represent "the
Information Super-highway," considering that you work on computers all
day.
As for the Flickers moving about like Hummingbirds; perhaps this
is a representation of yourself. I know you've been a lot happier with
your work lately. Hummingbirds are a universal Native American symbol
of laughter and joy. Flickers (since these birds are agressive eaters
and are very independent in behavior) are symbolic of quest-seekers and
"go-getters," they rarely give up on the hunt. Flickers flying like
Hummingbirds tell me that you have found joy in becoming more assertive
and independent as you walk your path in life.
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======At My Work Computer, Counting Rejections-Issue 6====================
Hmmm...I actually had a passive part in this one. First let me
say that when the newsletter eats into your DREAM time, it's time to ease
away. You're supposed to assemble a newsletter about dreams, not dream
about the newsletter. You seemed happy to be busy, but under your own
rules--you had munchies and music and stuff. It's work, but you set the
pace. Enjoying working on your own?
What's so entertaining about reading a calendar? Tara was such
a pivotal annoyance this past year that she might have achieved symbolic
status in your dreams. What's been pestering you lately? Or are you
worried I might be dealing with something? I'm glad I turned her down
each time. :)
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
I also had a part in this one. Hmmm...counting rejections, ay?
Getting into the symbolism of numbers, the number of rejections, being
"9"; the number which symbolizes worldly wisdom, creativity,
humanitarianism, and (drum roll please...) _completion_. Perhaps this
is precognitive that we will no longer have to deal with Tara and other
petty annoyances. It was kind of sad when we weren't getting very many
submissions for the newsletter, but judging by the way things are going
now, we had nothing to worry about for long. Perhaps our situation with
Tara was representing our worries about that and everything has a way of
working out for the better--as long as we are patient and practice
kindness to others (even people who annoy us).
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======The Orange Kitten-Issue 6===========================================
I saw a lot of symbols of warning and helplessness in this dream.
You had an orange kitten (orange being a color used when something should
be avoided), and you feel certain the smaller, more defenseless kitten
would have been hurt.
The Beverly Hills, Brandon part of the dream had a feeling of
helplessness also, although here it was Brandon who was helpless unless
you came down to be him and do things for him. You were in the woods at
night, and knew there was something dangerous out there.
You were in a car that someone else (your parents) were driving.
You were pregnant. I would think a pregnant woman would feel
rather dependent on other people. I don't know, I've never been pregnant.
Anyway, you also depended on your husband to tell you how many children
you'd had.
Have you perhaps been feeling like someone has been controlling
your life, and you need to take control back? Feeling dependent on other
people, and not happy with it?
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@worf.uwsp.edu)
Kittens are cute and playful and pretty engaging, but nobody
seems to want them to grow into cats. This second kitten (the orange
one) was cat-sized, but still a kitten. Was its mentality underdeveloped?
It didn't want to grow up; it's a Toys 'R' Us kid? It was also pretty
distinctive, being so orange and all. Why did you have a sand-filled
doll of your first kitten? Why sand? Why not sawdust or polyfil? Sand
is awfully heavy and earthy for even a beanbag. I have no idea why the
orange kitten attacked the doll, but it was good of you to take
precautions if you were unsure. Why give the orange kitten away? Why
not try to train it? Embrace the evil, so to speak.
Digging in the dirt to find the places....why not investigate
this dark thing under the dirt? Starting a fire is a nice diversion.
Is there something in real life you're avoiding? A confrontation? You
don't deal with the kitten and you don't dig deeper. Strange, though,
that Brandon needed your noodle to figure out how to light a fire.
Beware of ravenous bones! You are there, while the general
public is not allowed. Why the special treatment? Is there something
you can do that others can't? I think Brandon might be a way of
distancing yourself from the action.
Strange you found the lighter *after* you lit the fire the hard
way. Again, you only realise you have the flashlight in your hand
*after* you run with inadequate light for a while. Then you notice
you're running the wrong way.
As I told Mr Parry, parents might be a symbol of stability, no
matter what your relationship to them is in real life.
I don't know what to make of the woman. I've been plenty of
women in my dreams, but I've never been pregnant. Could it be a desire
to leave something behind in this world after you die? (Woah, that's
heavy.) It's great that you've been this person before--I'm really
impressed, but I can't make anything of it. Interesting that your
husband used only his fingers to say how many children you had. Why
didn't he say it out loud?
And the cat came back the very next day. You have it in a cage
this time. Are you locking this confrontation away or holding it until
you have time to deal with it properly? If the kitten was in a cage, why
did you have to "get it to enter the apartment"? Why couldn't you just
carry it in? Did the cat have a say in the matter?
Hmm. I believe past lives are an interesting possibility, but I
don't believe they exist (proof could change this opinion). I do,
however, believe in the fracturing of the mind. Just as you could have
been this woman in a past life, so she could be part of your mind that's
off doing its own thing. If you become her again, see what she's like
and what she has to offer.
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Searching for Lights-Issue 6========================================
I often have dreams where a film seems to cover my eyes, and I
can't see anything other than a sort of grey haze. I usually have this
sort of dream whenever there is some piece of information I want, but
can't get. The information is always something I can't look up in a book
too, things like "What does somebody think of me", or "How will I do on
my test", or "Will I get that job?".
This dream reminded me of one I had that was very similar, and
you can read this issue in the dreams section.
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
I think you've pretty much hit the nail on the head regarding
interpreting your dream. My first house dreams were always of dark,
haunted houses, and the higher I climbed the stairs, the more ghosts
were lurking. Well, I've long since confronted these ghosts, and my more
recent house dreams have been exciting adventures in discovery!
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
You and Chris should get together and compare notes on
malfunctioning lights in dreams. I know what it's like to have such
impaired vision in dreams. I'm usually frustrated and paranoid--I feel
like I'm missing something important or dangerous. So is there something
you don't want to see or is it something you shouldn't see?
Suddenly you're in a strange house and your main sense is gone.
The operative word here is "frantically". Are you feeling helpless in
real life--is there something you need to do, but you're unsure how to
begin to tackle it?
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
Many people report some dreams where they are not able to see
clearly. Someone on the net suggested that such an experience might be
caused by becoming aware during NON-REM sleep.
Pamela Ryan (pryan@prairienet.org)
Perhaps this dream has to deal with, not "lights," but with
"enlightenment." None of the lights seem to work in your house and you
haven't been able to "see"--could this mean that you are experiencing
some frustration in your search for "something to believe in?" Search
your feelings. Before looking into another person's dogma, believe in
yourself and know what's right for you. Also, it could be that you are
the one that is blocking your "view." Open up to other possiblities.
There could be a light at the end of the tunnel for you yet...(or it
could be that I'm just feeling mystical today, sorry if I sound a little
silly--believe what you will--hope it made you some sense).
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Having a Baby-Issue 6===============================================
This dream sounds to me like there is some sort of project (your
baby) that you haven't been able to finish, although you would love to
see the finished product. You feel guilty, as if there should be more
you can do about it, even though in the case of the dream, it really
wasn't your fault. Eventually, the baby will be born. Maybe the friend
of yours having the baby in the other room represents someone who will
finish the project if you don't, although they may not be so eager to do
so.
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
I always associate dreams of pregnancy and birth to creativity.
The baby could represent some Idea that's been developing inside you for
some time (a project, new business, book, poem, play, painting,
screenplay, performance, etc) to which you are longing to give physical
form (give birth to). Your mother in this dream could represent that
part of you that routinely criticizes everything you do. In this case,
she points out that its your own fault you haven't produced anything
yet, and not to blame the delay on some act of nature. A possible reason
for this delay is suggested by the difficult birth of a friend. You
delay because you are afraid of the possible risks involved, of criticism
and of the uncertainty that it will succeed and thrive.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
There are no other characters in this dream to distract you from
your mother. At first there's a feeling that she's there to help--
comforting you and explaining what's going on.
There's an element of creation. You want to have this baby.
It's something that's part of you that you can love and care for;
something you can devote time and attention to. There is that feeling
of pride, but it sounds like the overriding desire is for a focus for
your positive feelings. It's often more fulfilling to give a compliment
than to receive one.
Your friend is having complications under a worse-case scenario.
The knowledge that it could easily be you increases your anxiety, as does
your mother's lack of support. Maybe you need to set a big goal for
yourself; one that'll give you something to focus on and strive for.
Your mother's negativity in the dream may reflect a little of your brain
slipping into the past and worrying that you might backtrack.
Keep in mind that everything that matters always moves forward.
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
I believe that the parental figure in your dream was trying to
give you a warning. Sort of like, "if you don't take care of yourself,
you will lose what you want most--new life/growth." How old are you?
Are you becoming more independent? New home or way of life? Just
starting out? To me the symbol of a "baby" is something which you have
planned for and created. As an artist, I have many "babies" of my own
and I know that it is up to me to "take care of them." This dream might
have a lot to say about responsibility and initiative. Care for that
baby as you would care for your self--and don't be so hard on yourself!
Caring for our dreams--our "babies"--takes time and effort. If we push
things too far too hard, they could crash and burn and die. If you want
what you're looking for, work for it and don't give up, no matter how
negative the criticism against you.
Also remember that sometimes criticism is a good thing--it keeps
you humble and shows you where you are and what you should work more on.
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Searching for Lights & Having Baby==================================
I see both of these dreams reflecting being in a transitional
stage:
1. The apartment is NOW; but now is only a part of the larger
picture of your life (the house)
2. You are about to have what might be a baby-- i.e., a new
phase of your own life; your relationship with your mother is
not making things easier -- her messages are too negative
Both dreams seem to reflect fear of the unknown possibilities in
your situations but a willingness to look at them, if only they will
clear up enough to allow you to do so.
Marilyn Brown (mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu)
======Getting Home-Issue
6================================================
What I find most interesting about this dream is that sex is a
metaphor for something, rather than something being a metaphor for sex.
This dream seems to be about your attempts at meaningful discourse with
a woman or women. Your first approach at "intercourse" was too direct
(dropping your pants) and you ended up scaring the woman away from
revealing anything sensitive/truthful about herself (this seems to be
your goal here).
So, with your second attempt, whether it is the same woman or a
new one, you have learned from your past failure and let the woman take
control of the situation (she is driving the car). She starts out with a
lot of small talk (driving for along time along twisty suburban road),
but eventually the two of you arrive at your goal, her house (or, her
psyche, the real woman). She has not quite let you inside yet, but you
get a few glimpses of her. You note the house is rich and beautiful,
this suggests that her true self is very beautiful, rich and imaginative.
You also get a look at some of her fears, misgivings,
difficulties - things which prevent her from really "soaring", ie the
tethered airplanes. Lastly, you get a glimpse of different aspects of
her personality, ie the husband (an alter ego? her masculine side?) and
children (creative endeavors).
Anyway, your dream could be telling you to take it easy if you
really want someone to let you inside.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
I am struck by the number of times you are prevented or almost
prevented from doing something you want to. First, you plan on having
intercourse with a woman, but she runs away. Then, you climb a hill and
cross running water. You want to go home, but you don't know the address
to be picked up at. Finally, you are on your way, but the road is not
straight, but meanders.
Is there some goal you are trying to reach, but just can't seem
to get to in real life?
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
Giving you a ride home from a meeting is a normal, humane act.
Usually, people will give a ride to someone they've seen once in a while
over a course of a few weeks, and even though they never exchanged words,
it's a familiar face. But why to her house? A house is a personal spot.
It's a nice house; she's well-to-do and (I assume) happily married. But
why didn't she know her own address?
You cross running water to get to this (possibly different)
woman--maybe going out of your way? Was she scared of your plans for
intercourse or of something else? Why plan to have sex with her? Why
not have a picnic? After she runs away, you're left half-undressed,
feeling a little uncomfortable in front of the people at the tables.
Are you uncertain about future plans? There's a lot of
travelling (walking; driving) here with women. Maybe you're worried
you might make a hasty decision and find yourself stuck. And maybe it
was just a strange dream.
--BJH-- (hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Circular Theory-Issue 6=============================================
I have assumed through some of your writing that you are still
in college or just getting out of college? Anyway, I get the impression
that you are going through a major change, and need to reassess who the
new you is. I think what your subconscious is trying to tell you here
that you have indeed died and been reborn as a person, but you are not
quite ready to accept that yet. So, your dreams keep throwing these
skeletons at you. I think you are somewhat aware of this change, because
your skeleton is never buried, just kind of lying around.
I think most of this dream is about you going through the process
of this discovery. First, you find the skeleton, then, you discover its
YOUR skeleton. You try to bring this to the attention of authorities
(your conscious self) but end up at a dead end (your conscious self
doesn't "get" it) All this time your are aided by a clever and likable
indian boy, who could represent some part of yourself that is more in
tune with nature (or what's going on with you, a "higher self" if you
will). Finally, you go home to your parent's house, but find there is no
longer a room for you there. I think this is saying pretty clearly that
there is no room for you at your parents', that you have to move on and
live on your own.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
BJ, I think it's interesting that you again present the image of
being half-buried, as you did in the Waitress dream! And skeletons are
present in both, as well. Is there some feeling of being "half-dead" or
"half-buried".....?
Pamela Ryan (pryan@prairient.org)
There were so many interesting things in this dream that it's
going to be tough to make this brief, but I'll do what I can... I'll
just do some word assoications and stuff. (By the way, I really like
how you incorporated this dream into your story, I do that sort of thing
myself in my stories, as you know, BJ, and I'm currently incorporating
my serial dream into a story as well--show it to ya when I'm finished!)
Fireworks & Baseball game at night: fun, excitement,
celebrations, perhaps some surprises? Fun surprises you eventually sort
of lose interest in during the course of the dream. Somehow fireworks
and baseball aren't that important when it comes to life and death...
Tree as shelter from the rain: security, warmth, yet wet?
Nature cuddles you and you discover a skeleton of yourself half-buried
in the ground. Doesn't seem to want to stay buried, does it? Some
connection to your waitress dream, huh?! Being half-buried to me means
you might not have been completly dead when you were buried. Hmmmm...
perhaps there is something about yourself you once tried to leave for
dead and buried long ago that is now trying to emerge, yet you still
view it as being dead and you are alarmed by its discovery (hence the
need to inform the cops).
Skull: the human skull was a symbol of spiritual and magickal
power for the ancient Celts. Carrying the skull of a relative or enemy
empowered you with their knowledge, experience, and abilities. Carrying
around your own skull could be you are still carrying with you past
knowledge and experiences--no one fools or hurts you twice--you have
power over your past, but still...carrying it can be a burden? Or could
it be a bit frightening? Don't wanna make the same mistakes twice? I
don't know. What do you think?
Dropping of change: another image of "change", 'cept this time
it's not a tip, it's your bus fare. Clumsiness? The door almost closed
on you, but you made it in time. Don't let doors close in on you, save
your dreams, you'll make it on time. Don't let opportunities pass you by.
Notebooks: the map you have created for yourself; your writing
and storytelling. (Chris thinks it's because you wanted a Notebook
computer at the time...I want one, too!!!)
The kid: a companion? Could this kid represent someone you
know? Perhaps he was just a dream guide or representing your "inner
child?"
A lot of cross-town walking/frustration with transportation:
trouble finding your way and not knowing where to go. All you have is
the remains of the old you and you are now working on the new you, but
in the end you end up home again (a familiar place). Back where you
started to make a fresh start?
Basement: feeling of staying "underground." Do you have
something to hide? From others or yourself? Both?
Confirmation that the skeleton was indeed your "remains": the
past is definitely "passed" but there is no explanation why things
turned out the way they did? Is there anything in your past that
confused you?
See ya later, bro!
--Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu)
======Val's Dream Series Part 3: The Intruder-Issue 6=====================
This dream seems to be a healthy letting go of a bad
relationship. Here, she is finally putting her feelings about this
old friendship "to rest" once and for all, and actively embracing and
"empowering" her new, healthier relationships.
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
__________________________________________________________________________
Dreams
======A Lesson
Learned====================================================
I have been interested in dreams for about three years now; ever
since I've had what I call a Life Altering dream. The dreams that make
an impact on me are bright in color. I believe this is to help me
recognize that my subconscious is trying to alert me to something. To
me, dreams are much more than sleep entertainment. It is a tool to help
me achieve what I search for. Please keep in mind that I am NOT saying
you must believe this. With this in mind, I would like to submit a Life
altering or Power dream of mine. I'll call it...
A Lesson Learned...
I find myself in the passenger side of a car driven by my mother.
I am wearing a Catholic's priest outfit, black clothes with a white
collar. HISTORY - I was raised a catholic but left the church at
eighteen years of age when I couldn't find answers to questions I posed
to the church fathers. I later belonged to a charismatic church then
moved onto intense Bible study. It wasn't that I wouldn't except the
answers from the fathers it was because I wasn't given any.
"Mom, I haven't done this for a few years (celebrated mass). A
feeling that this wasn't right swept over me.
"You'll do just fine. This means a lot to me. Quilt, something
catholic mothers do quite well.
The street we were on was familiar but there were changes. The
streets were eight lanes wide. We pulled into a Hotel parking lot. I was
to celebrate the mass in a hotel room. She dropped me off telling me she
had to pick up her friends and that I should go on up to the room.
I went through the doors of the building and into a large bowling
alley. I thought it was strange but it reminded me of a hotel in Las
Vegas. I found the lobby, got the room number and went on up. There was
an elderly couple in the elevator who nodded to me as I entered.
I found the room and entered. It was a large room, brown rug,
brown leather chairs and a large table to be used as the alter.
I started setting up the alter, I knew how (alter boy) and had
everything in place, including a large Bible.
People started to arrive, friends of my mothers and so on. With
everyone in place I started the celebration and knew right off the bat
that this was not right. I could hear whispers in the background. I
started getting more agitated. I couldn't remember how to do it. Then
one of my mothers friends said in a loud disgusted whisper, as she was
looking at my mother, "He doesn't know how. He can't remember. It's been
to long.
Sweat was starting to roll down my face. My back was still to
them and I was clutching the Bible.
I turned around with Bible in hand, starring at this woman
completely flustered. "Do you have any idea what is in this book? It's
filled with lessons. And the greatest of all these is this, Do onto
others as you would have them do unto you. That's all you need!
I may have been talking to the old woman but the words were
meant for me. I knew this in the dream. I started relaxing and the words
and thoughts came flowing out. The dream melted away. I awoke with a
smile and the feeling that a great weight had been lifted from me.
The feeling of quilt that I've had for quite awhile is not there
and I am now free to explore.
Peace,
Jim Hunter (jamesh@dsinet.dgtl.com)
======The Breathing
Lamp==================================================
I had just had a dream. I wanted to get up to write the dream
down. I couldn't get any lights to turn on. I went from one light to
another, but none of them would turn on. As I made my rounds, I notice
several noises. The neighbors were listening to very loud music, and I
knew I wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep. I didn't know
which neighbor to complain to, because the noise drifted in through the
ventilation system. A diesel truck parked outside was left running, and
it was also making too much noise for me sleep.
Finally, I go to my drawing board (I don't really have a drawing
board) and get the lamp on it to turn on. It had no light bulb, but
instead the glass chimney glowed faintly purple. The glass melted from
the bottom as it gave off light. The lamp was living, breathing in
through a hole in its front (I thought of it as its mouth) and blowing
smoke out a hole in its top.
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
======Dream Collection-7 June=============================================
Here is a group of dreams that I had a couple of nights ago, one
after the other. They are interesting because they are all variations
on a theme with many shared elements. I don't recall ever having done
this before. I have no plans to go to Florida, nor do I know most of
the people who are mentioned by name.
Ted and I have just had a house party. It is the middle of the
night and we are vacuuming up the mess. We are worried about being
hungover tomorrow so we go out to get some water. While we are out, I
remember that we have to catch a flight to Florida. I ask Ted if he has
the tickets on him. He checks his money belt and finds everything he
needs to go - tickets, passports, money. But I don't have my passport!
I must go back to the house to get my luggage. I send Ted to the
airport and tell him to get on the plane without me if I can't make it
back on time. I board a passing bus and look at my watch impatiently.
I am in the hallway of my father's house packing my luggage. We
are leaving for a trip to Florida in the morning. I hear him come in
downstairs but I don't want to have to speak to him. I throw down my
sleeping bag on the stairs and crawl under it. I have just enough time
to pull the bag over my head before he gets to the bottom of the stairs.
I pretend that I am asleep, though I am uncomfortably arranged on the
hard wooden steps. "Move," he says, and nudges me out of the way with
his foot. I grunt groggily and scrunch over. "Come upstairs now and
look at my new suitcases," he says without asking.
I am in a flashy red car with a bunch of rich friends. It is
late but we have decided to drive to Florida. I have to stop at the
house I share with several roommates and pick up my luggage. Everyone
is out except for Rob who doesn't have anywhere to go. I decide that I
have to tell him that I am leaving but I don't want to do it face to
face. I phone upstairs to his room and tell him that I'm at the ferry
terminal, I'm just about to get on the ferry, it's going to leave any
minute so I haven't got time to talk. He says, "No, you're not." My
waiting friends blow the car horn. "Yes, I am. There's the warning
whistle." "I can hear you downstairs," he says bitterly. "Just go to
Florida without me. I don't care what you do."
I am lying in the top bunk in a room I share with two other
girls. I am telling them about my wonderful male friend. There is a
knock at the door and one of the other girls answers it. A young man
comes in and I say, "Hi, Stone!" He comes over to the bunk and hugs me
weakly. I say, "Not like that. Hug me like you mean it." My
girlfriends look expectantly at me and I shake my head. "No, this is his
brother." My mother is sitting in an armchair shooting up but she is
not happy with the results. One of her veins stretches across the
carpet and she says, "Look at that colour! It's gray. It should have
turned pink." We take Stone into the bathroom and sit him in front of
the mirror to do his hair. "We're going to Florida. Want to come with
us?" He is reluctant and we try to argue him into it. When he seems on
the verge of refusing, one of the girls gets out a hypodermic and
prepares to inject him with it. He sees her in the mirror and pulls
away. "Do you want me to go to Florida that badly? You'd drug me to
make me go with you?"
Dahven (dahven@aol.com)
======Val's Serial Dream==================================================
Dream Series: "I'm Death, BJ's the Crow, and We Hunt Down a Serial Killer"
VMK
DREAM JOURNAL ENTRY #81
Vol.5, March 22, 1994
Part Four: "Disturbing Evidence"
This is weird. This dream started out where the last one left
off. I see a pattern emerging here...(Warning: it's a long one!)
We (all the people mentioned before in the last dream sequence,
except for Brandon) were all still over at BJ's room and we were now
trying to decide what to do at night. It got dark quickly. Robin
suggested that we go over to the Mission Coffee House downtown. It
seemed like a good idea, so we hiked on over there. When we got there,
the place was different. It was dark with wood paneling and it looked
more like a bar than a coffee house--infact it had become a bar (and a
dirty one at that, too). There were some people in front supposedly
giving a poetry reading, but they were actually quoting lines from
cartoons. One guy did Mighty Mouse, then someone did Bugs Bunny, next
someone quoted from Popeye. But the best one was these Triplets who did
a perfect emulation of the Warner Brothers (and the Warner sister, Dott)
from The Animaniacs. They ended their performance with the line where
Wacko says, "How's About A Kiss?"
After the Triplets were done, the reading was over and everyone
was getting drunk on Guiness (a dark, stout beer). We were all drinking-
-even my friends who don't normally drink alcohol were drinking and we
were having a great time singing, joking around, etc. Still in the
guise of The Crow, BJ finished his beer in one manly gulp and took my
hand.
"Fancy playing some pool?" He asked, smiling.
"I don't know," I said (still in the guise of Death), "I'd like
to play darts...infact I don't like playing pool, I'm lousy at the game,
but..I can play pool with you...I suppose..."
As you can see, I didn't really want to play pool, but, not
being that much of a heavy drinker, I was bored. As BJ and I chalked up
our cues, I noticed that Chris was the only one out of our group that
was gone. I asked everyone where she could've went, but no one seemed
to know or care. I got worried. I mentioned my concern to BJ and he
just told me not to worry about it.
"It's just a Chris thing to do...," he said, setting up his
first shot. So, we continued to play til there was this horrible scream
coming from outside the bar. We dropped our pool cues and everyone ran
out to investigate. In an alley below some telephone wires was this
body underneath a melting, moving mound of snow. Everyone just stared
at it.
I was the only one who dared to clear away some of the snow to
see who it was. "Don't do it, Val!" BJ warned me, frantic, "Just don't
do it! You don't know who it's been and--you could be disturbing
evidence...." But I didn't care. I _had_ to know who it was. I
cleared away the snow and--to my shock and horror--underneath was a
writhing mass of angry bees making this horrible buzzing noise. Somehow
I lost my fear of them as I thrust my right hand into them (for some
reason, I don't know) and I wasn't stung by them. As I cleared away
some of the bees, my hand got caught into something really sticky. I
brought my hand back. My hand was full of NOT blood OR gore, BUT
STRAWBERRY JAM! The bees seemed to have been eating the stuff. The
body buried underneath the snow and bees had been heavily swabbed with
the strawberry jam. The bees had been eating the jam and,
inconsequently, consumed most of the flesh of the body underneath. I
put my hand back through the bees and jam to look at the body. The body
had no more front side left. There were no distinguishing characteristics
about it, except for a small quartz crystal pendant with a silver ankh
on it. After noticing this, I knew who the body was: IT WAS CHRIS!
(Chris wears a pendant just like the one on the dead body).
I clutched the big "Death" silver ankh at my chest. It started
to glow, beaming blue--like the type of light from a "black" light bulb-
-turning everything white "glow in the dark." It had a beautiful effect
on BJ's Crow face. I almost got lost in the light. I looked back at
Chris' body and nearly freaked.
"OHMIGOD!" I cried, "It's Chris--you guys!--it's Chris and
SHE'S DEAD! We've GOT to do SOMETHING!"
No one seemed bothered by this. It made me angry. Chris was a
friend. Upset, I asked everyone around me "why doesn't any one of you
care?" and everyone just started talking about how gross she must've
died. One voice in the crowd became dominant. It was Tom, my roomate.
He thought he knew how it all must've happened and who did it, etc.,
etc...
"It's the work of a Serial Killer, I'm sure of it, because, look
over there---" he pointed up at the telephone wires, "see how frayed
that one line is?" One of the wires was indeed frayed and sparking.
"That wire is about ready to snap, as if someone had walked on it to get
at Chris--someone who _knew_ she'd be alone."
"But how did this killer walk on the wire without getting
electrocuted?" BJ asked Tom.
Tom smiled knowingly. "Simple," he said, "the Serial Killer is
Superhuman and very, very crafty! He probably walked on the wires with
special shoes (most likely swabbed heavily with cotton) and slid down
the wire--see?" The telephone wire did, indeed, slope downward.
"Then," Tom continued, "just as Chris was walking home alone, the
Serial Killer jumped her--hitting her over the head with a jar of
strawberry jam! And, look over there---" We all looked up. "There's a
bee hive in that billboard overhead. The sweetness of the jam attracted
the bees and, as the bees were going for Chris, she came at the killer
with that 2X4 lying over there---" We noticed that there was indeed a
2X4 scattered over by a heap of garbage. "When she swung and missed
'em, the killer must've blasted her with a shotgun filled with ice
pellets. See the snow? She wasn't killed by the bees and sweetness,
she froze to death."
For some reason, this seemed like a logical explanation and
everyone seemed to accept it. Even the cops who came afterward believed
it to be plausible. Still, no one was upset about the murder. The cops
marked off the spot with shaving cream, never collected Chris' body,
just covered her up with a red wool blanket, and left in a big, black,
empty hearse.
It was starting to become daylight again. I looked back up at
the billboard where the bees had come from. The billboard was of the
Marlboro Man who was dressed up like Superman from the old 50s television
series. He had a big cigarette in his mouth. Smoke was rolling out of
his nostrils as if he were really breathing, but it was still just a
picture. I didn't like this billboard picture. The Marlboro Man as
Superman seemed arrogant and pompous. A symbol of ego-centricism. BJ
pulled me away from the image.
"You have to come back with me to my room," He told me, tugging
at my arm, "I need you to help me pack up a few books and things..."
Leaving our other friends to fend for themselves, I let BJ drag
me to his room. We were no longer The Crow and Death, we were being
ourselves again (sort of). By the time we entered his room, it was noon.
As I started helping BJ out with his books and stuff, I suddenly wondered
where Tara* was. It was strange. I was actually concerned about her. I
realized Tara had also been missing since the discovery of Chris' dead
body. I brought it up with BJ, but he didn't care.
"Could you go into my closet?" He asked me, frowning. "I need
you to pack me my clothes. Sorry it's a bit of a rush..."
I went into BJ's closet without complaint. I searched for his
clothes but found none. The closet opened up into a small, dark room.
I ran my hand along the wall looking for a light switch. Instead I
found one of those lights with a string, I pulled "on" the string and
suddenly the closet was no longer a small room, but went back to the
same closet BJ has always had. Still, there were no clothes hanging up
for me to pack and--catching me off guard, out fell Tara's dead body on
top of me! In a daze, I fell backward, too, but BJ caught me before I
could hit my head on anything. He took Tara's body off me. Tara's body
was all stiff and light, made out of sytrofoam. Her mouth was stuffed
with an old tube sock and there was this note hung around her neck. It
said: "I WANT YOU DEAD, VAL--YOU'RE NEXT!"
BJ threw Tara's dead stryofoam body out the window. "Come on,"
he said, "forget about packing--you're coming over to my home. No one
will know you'll be there because no one thinks you will know my family
in Wausau. You'll be safe with..." His voice lowered and, reloading his
gun, he turned back into the Crow, battle ready. "_me_."
So we left his room and got into an elevator. BJ pressed a
button marked "99" and we lifted upward. In a few seconds, the elevator
stopped, and the door slid open to the outdoors---we faced a white
house** with some red panels on it. Before we got close to the house,
we had to check the mail. The mailbox was dark and had a flag missing,
but the stick of it was up. "Looks like we got mail," BJ remarked.
Inside the mailbox (I don't know how it fit in there) was a large poster
tube addressed to BJ. He opened it and a bunch of sparrows flew out.
BJ looked back at me, depressed. "Oh, well," He sighed, "guess I
should've let you open it. I tend to scare good things away from me
like this..."
Suddenly we were at the back door. I remembered seeing red
brick, stone work and a garden out back, too. I felt nervous for some
reason. BJ's mother came to the door to greet us. I didn't remember
her face much, just her voice. She was very nice and led us through the
kitchen. The kitchen area wasn't very big and it had a lot of wood. In
the kitchen, BJ's mum was making all sorts of soups***, some of which
she kept talking me into trying.
"This one's asparagus--and this one's a kiwi and cucumber soup-
-one's served hot and the other's served cold!" She was very energetic.
I tried both the soups, they were very good, but I wasn't hungry enough
to have a whole bowl to myself (if she had offered). "I'm glad he
brought you here," BJ's mum went on to say, "I've heard so much about
you...Did you bring any of your drawings? BJ loves your artwork. Will
you do a painting of him? Not for me, but for yourself? I'd love it if
you'd do it..."
And she kept talking and talking, asking me all sorts of
questions. I got the feeling she was encouraging me and BJ to work on a
story/project together. "So you write, too?" She smiled, "You and BJ
are like twins. You should be his long lost sister! Will you stay?
It'll give you plenty of time to work things out. Oh, wow, this is so
exciting!" BJ teasingly encouraged his mother to pipe down. He was now
no longer the Crow.
We heard a commotion upstairs. It was BJ's brother Lyle. As
soon as he got to the foot of the stairs, Lyle tackled BJ. As the two
goofed around, at the front door there was a knock. It was BJ's brother
Keith, back from England. When I was introduced to Keith, the guy
didn't even say hello, he just hugged me and said, "God, you're great-
-I'm glad you are going to be my sister!" And then all three of the
guys tackled me. It was great. Like I we were all big kids! We later
chased each other around the house.
"Remember, Val has to be kept safe and hidden!" BJ's mum warned
us, so BJ and I stopped playing and we went into Keith's room which I
figured was now BJ's room.
First thing I saw in the room was this HUGE Jesus Jones poster
staring back at me from this sloped cieling. The wall coloring was lime
-yellowish green. The room had some clutter. There was a fold-away bed
shoved off to the side and BJ plopped himself down on a bed with light
blue covers. There was a small window next to the bed, on the left side.
Again, I was nervous to be there.
"Don't be scared, Val," BJ reassured me, "you're safe with me,
you're always safe with me. Besides, no one knows you're here with me
now. Sit down..."
I sat down on the bed beside him. There was a lump in the
mattress. I moved back the covers and there was a shotgun buried
underneath.
"See?" BJ was the Crow again. "I told you. I have you and
you're safe with me...I can protect you and you can protect me."
I started to cry in the dream. I cried about Chris' death and
Tara. Only I had seemed to care about them. I felt responsible somehow.
"Maybe I'm the serial killer, BJ! Is it possible for a person
to be so terrible and not know it? You'd tell me if I'm a horrible
person and that you hate my guts, right? You'd tell me, wouldn't
you?!?" I sobbed.
BJ didn't say anything. Soon I needed some kleenex to blow my
nose. BJ handed me a red, white, and blue shoe box+. I opened it. It
was filled with letters from Keith. "Oh, I can't use those!" I
exclaimed, laughing.
"I'll get you some toilet paper," BJ said and I followed him
out front toward the bathroom. Before we got to the backdoor where the
bathroom is, there came a knock at the door. BJ's mum was coming towards
us. "Don't answer the door!" She loudly hissed us quiet and she pushed
us back into the kitchen. She awswered the door while we looked on.
Special agents Fox Moulder and Dana Scully from _The X-Files_
were there. "Is BJ Hiorns in?" Scully asked after they showed BJ's mum
their FBI badges. "No, he isn't," BJ's mum answered them innocently,
"could I ask you why you want him?"
Moulder answered her with:
"We suspect that he knows the suspect we suspect to be the
killer."
After that, I woke up.
TARA*: a friend who became a general pest to BJ, Chris, and I this last
year.
The House**: this part of the dream proved to be precognitive. I had
never seen nor been in BJ's family's home before. It was really weird
how close I was to the actual appearance of the house. I had total deja
vu when I was finally invited there!
Soups***: according to BJ, his mum is a big fan of soup. I didn't know
this either. On my first visit there (when I actually _did_ meet her),
she served us aparagus for dinner, but it wasn't in soup form. It was
funny...
Box+: it's true. In real life BJ's family saves Keith's letters from
England in a red, white, and blue Reebox shoe box. I didn't know this
either, til after I told BJ the dream.
__________________________________________________________________________
Dream Project
======Responses========================================================
===
You guys came pretty close with your personality/life situation
guesses. As Chris guessed, I am calm, and a bit shy, and I like to take
things slow. My parents did push me, and had expectations of perfection.
As Matthew theorized, I am concerned with childbearing issues
right now.
I am patient, and do have an artistic style, as Val suggested.
And Val's idea that the car accident dream with my sister represented
"sudden change and death" and then being forced to learn something with
my sister, was also completely right: my mother's death last year, and
my father's sudden remarriage, hit my sister and I very hard. Although I
do not "like to party" as Val suggested, she was correct in guessing
that I am comfortable with my sexuality -- in fact, I am a sexuality
educator!
======New
Dreams==========================================================
March 31, 1990
"The Faceless Man"
There was a house on fire. I went toward it and opened the
front door. When I opened the door, I entered a circle of trees. I saw
myself tied with ropes around my neck and a faceless man in black was
pulling at me. I had to fight him. I couldn't stand being tied to him.
I faced the faceless man and pulled back. He fell down. When he fell, I
saw that it was Brandon. "You aren't who we think we are," he said. He
was angry. I broke away from the ropes only to next find him clutching
my throat. I started kicking and screaming. He let me down and I
relaxed. He told me to stay there because he had to show me something.
He started to slowly cut himself apart with a rusty butter knife. There
was a lot of blood and gore coming out of him as he did so. Before he
died, I stretched out my hands. I exploded him into white light.
April 1, 1990
"Tea With The Butterfly Woman"
I entered an ancient oriental house with pointy corners. I met
a woman there who was very small and white as porcelain and she had
butterfly wings. Her ears were made of pearls strung together in
crescent moon forms. She served me tea which tasted like how honeysuckle
smells. Pink smoke drifted around me. Tiny butterfly people surrounded
me in a cool embrace of air--laughing with children's voices. They
reminded me of cherubs, but resembled fairies. I looked down into my
teacup and noticed I had been drinking liquid gold. The Butterfly-Woman
said: "Take in all poison and spit it back out at those who do you
harm..."
September 3, 1990
"Mirrors"
This started out in color. At an art gallery looking at
historical paintings. I stopped at one that was of a door. I walked
toward it and it became a real door. As I opened the door and passed
through it, everything became black and white. I found myself in a maze
of mirrors, but all the reflections of myself were different. There
were images of myself getting older and older, then younger and younger.
Soon I was looking at every aspect of myself. But there was one mirror
that was completely void of my reflection. I stepped into
it as if it
were a door and I changed. From the waist down, I was a serpent. I
felt powerful.
June 9, 1991
"Undead Stillborn Baby From Hell"
I came to a house that was a large oak. I followed a woman with
red hair into it. She put on a black chiffon viel like a widow, turned
to me and said: "Where fire burns, excites all terror. Snuff illusion,
defeat the terror. This is the lesson you will learn in this life.
Keep well your passion and weep it into dust." Then there was this
explosion of smoke and I am standing in an open field. I hear the
beating of mighty wings. I look up to see a giant owl-raven. The giant
bird swoops me up with its talons and the whole world spirals. It drops
me off to where I live.
I enter my apartment and I hear loud weeping. In the livingroom
there is a circle of women dressed all in black. They are weeping over
a woman in labor. She gives birth to a stillborn baby who has fangs and
red eyes and its legs are big, black claws. Suddenly, it comes to life
and starts to attack the weeping women with its claws. The weeping
women turn to me, screaming: "KILL IT! KILL IT!" They hand me a
wicked-looking six-inch knife, but instead of killing the baby with it,
I drop it, feeling helpless. Then something big and black came in and
it picked up the knife I dropped, killing the mother.
I ran back into the kitchen and grabbed a black garbage bag.
The ugly baby was writhing on its back on the floor. I scooped it up
into the bag and tried to get out of the apartment with it, but the baby
clawed through the bag and tried to kill me. I caught it by its clawed
legs and swung it about my head. I bashed its head into the wall til
its head just popped off, but it was still alive. The weeping women
disappeared.
The baby's head grew chicken's legs and its head and body both
tried to escape down the hallway into my bedroom. I managed to chase it
into the bathroom where I smashed it with an aluminum baseball bat. I
willed the knife back into my hand and severed the baby's body parts
(even after I had smashed it, it was still alive). Once I severed it
apart, it finally died, squealing like a swine. No blood was left to
stain my bathtub, just a liquid black, like ink, drained down the tub.
Then a man's voice croaked out of the drain (smelling like bad breath)
to tell me I had won.
December 20, 1991
"An Angel Helps Me Put Out a Fire"
I encountered a beautiful androgynous, golden haired man in a
white business suit. His feet did not touch the ground and his fingers
stretch out in rays of light. I'm about to say something to him, but I
can't say anything. He doesn't want me to talk. He touches me to order
me silently to listen to him.
"Do it, you have the power inside you--do it--water will flow
and gusher out of you. Do it now, never wait. Fire will kill you!"
I felt myself float upward and my body turned blue. I was cold.
I looked down. There were flames below me. Someone was burning in
there. I heard the "someone" scream my name. It was Brandon. I want
to put out the fire but I'm afraid he'll be mad at me for doing so. But
my fear of the Angel was worse. He expected me to put out the fire. So
I did a somersault turn up-side-down and created some steam out of my
body. I felt angry. I felt horror. I felt tired. All of these
feelings rage out of me as a tidal wave of water. My chest hurt keeping
it all in. And the water kept flowing out--a big tidal wave of
everything that sorrows me. There was salt water on my lips and I
started to blow water out of my mouth. Then there was this hiss---this
long hiss and the fire was gone, so was the angel and Brandon. I was
alone, floating in empty, black space. I had a hard time waking up.
May 15, 1992
"Weaving with Grandmother Spider"
Grandmother Spider came to me last night. She was dancing on a
giant web that spanned the whole universe. She told me, "Little
daughter, I see you have come to spin. Come, sit with me and we shall
sing with the dawn." I did so and together we sang a song without
words, as we sang, stars flew out of our mouths and gathered along the
giant, universe's web. She took the stars and created giant geometrical
works of art, like huge crystalline fracticals. I asked her what it was
she was doing so I could be a part of it. She didn't say anything, just
handed me some silk thread. Anxiously, I started to weave, but I wasn't
creating anything. The stars started to fall out of the sky. I was
frightened. Grandmother turned to me and said: "Girl, rest your heart.
The warmth is here, only a dream of it remains." I turned to her.
"That's what I fear," I said. She started to laugh. "You
design a bad house, then," she clicked her jaw, all eight eyes shining
golden, "A bad house keeps away the cold, but it also shuts out the
warmth." I asked her what it was I should do to get myself a good house.
She answered me with: "Keep close your words, build on them slowly,
take time with yourself. A place open--suggested--is a testament to
imagination. Never keep yourself a slave to a single dream." After
that I felt more secure.
I caught a ripe fly in the design Grandmother was weaving. I
never knew a work of art could do that...
July 30, 1992
"Rotting Hands and Crystal Wrists"
My fingers were falling apart. My skin was caking open and I
couldn't do anything with my hands. My hands were useless stumps of
bloody flesh, but my wrists were made out of pink crystal and light was
glowing out of them. I tried to use my hands to draw a pentagram, but
my fingers fell off and I had to use my lips instead. I held an ink pen
in my mouth, dipped it in my own blood, and used my lips to draw the
pentagram. After drawing it, my hands turned back to normal. I woke up
with sore wrists.
October 11, 1992
"The Magician"
I met a ceremonial magician dressed in red in my dreams this
night. He had some advice to give to me. He sort of looked like a
young Aliester Crowley and he gave me the creeps. All I remember from
the dream was the advice he gave to me, it went something like this:
"You are searching for power...power over your enemies and
friends. I'll tell ya that the only power that exists anymore is in the
past. We used it all up. Yet the past is distorted--it scars the
present--makes power unavailable. Yet true power is not something to be
posessed. You will not find your true power or the wisdom to use it
until you are beyond having to be right. In trying to be right, you fit
the facts into your own design. Soon all you will have is nothing--and
it is nothing that you will have to defend what's left: YOURSELF. Stop
trying so hard to be right. Stop hiding from yourself and your feelings.
When you hide and manipulate, you create your own prison and the darkness
will close in on your pride. Magick teaches us to free ourselves. Let
the power of the gods flow through you. The power--the Magick does not
come from you. Free yourself of your past and you will no longer be
prey to scorpions who wish to sting illusions into your eyes..."
He handed me a pipe of opium to smoke. I took a puff and woke
up feeling dizzy.
May 30, 1993
"Brandon's Funeral"
I was at Brandon's funeral. The mourners were faceless clones
all dressed in navy blue, not black. They were walking slowly, single
file, into these ruins of a medieval cathedral. I went inside with them.
Everyone stood where pews would have been. I was in the middle aisle,
walking toward where Brandon's coffin was. There were no flowers. Two
huge bouncer-like guys were guarding the coffin (they were also faceless
clones of each other). It was definitely a funeral, but Brandon did not
appear dead. I could hear him breathe. Just as the bouncer men were
about to close the coffin, I reached out for him. He grabbed my hand.
I was frightened, he wasn't letting me go. The bouncer guys started
wheeling him out and I was dragged with.
Suddenly there was this blur and next I found myself standing in
a graveyard. Outside the sky looked like it was about to storm, but the
sun was still out. I looked down. Before me was an unmarked grave where
someone was recently buried. From underneath the ground I could hear
Brandon calling for me. I wanted to run away, but couldn't. A hand
came out of the ground, reaching for me. I grabbed the hand and pulled
Brandon out of the dirt. He made a move to kiss me, but I turned away
from him in disgust.
"I don't believe you..." I said and I woke up.
November 19, 1993
"Disgust"
I was in an old attic. There was a HUGE mirror at the foot of
some steps leading downward. I went toward the mirror. My reflection
was mine all right, but I was different. I had white hair and was thin.
I had a trench coat on and had the "dirty mark" on my face (dirty mark
was a black scar along the nose; a native american "curse" on a woman
who has committed adultry where her face is scarred for life). I didn't
like the reflection so, like a serpent, I stretched open my mouth and
swallowed the mirror whole. I then felt sick. Then I heard this man's
voice, whispering:
"...hey you, hey over here...help me..."
I turned and saw this dirty, nude man who had sickly pale skin
with sores all over it. There was a tube jutting out from his chest
(where his heart was) that was attached to this woman's corpse by her
right wrist. They both stunk of stale alcohol and vomitt.
"...i've given her all my blood....help me..." the man was
saying, "you've got to help me...i've given her all my blood and now
she's dead...i need my blood back to survive..."
I couldn't do anything for him. I felt nauesa and bent over to
throw up. I vomitted out liquid silver that shattered into mirror
shards when it hit the floor. Then I woke up and vomitted for real. I
had the flu.
May 28, 1994
"String-o-Fetus"
Me and my best friend (a guy) are sitting in Central Park, NY,
NY on a park bench. We are both pregnant and dressed in hospital
pajamas. We are very proud of the fact that we are both pregnant at the
same time and we're bragging about it. Suddenly, I'm hungry and want to
get up to buy some hot dogs, but I'm afraid that, if I do, my baby will
fall out of my womb. My best friend reassures me that, if we get up to
buy hot dogs together, we won't lose our babies. We do so and, sure
enough the lil' suckers pop out, but the babies remain alive (although
they are very gory and bloody) and are still attached to us by a long
umbilical cord which also is connecting me and best friend to each other.
Infact, we have more than just two babies attached to us, we have at
least eight of them and they're all very small--only big enough to hold
at least one in your hand (like M-n-Ms, yum!)
Later on we both run home to show his parents how wonderful our
"String of Fetus" is! We leave a trail of blood that forms this
beautiful drawing of the "Venus of Wellondorf" (a prehistoric image of
the Goddess). The blood was coming out of our butts. Sick, huh? But
this was a pleasurable experience! A wonderful, funny dream.
__________________________________________________________________________
Dream Articles
======from ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu=====================================
THE HISTORY OF DREAMS!
(Part One)
by Val, the Dream Shaman
In ancient times, dreams were supernatural events bearing
prophecies, divinations, predictions, and messages from the Gods. All
native cultures have viewed dreams as a way for spirits to speak to
human beings. One of the earliest works on dream concepts, types, and
interpretations is the (Chris Beattie has a big laugh) Chester Beatty
papyrus of Egypt which dates to 2000 b.c. This papyrus (if anyone has a
translation or knows where I might be able to find one, let me know)
contains dream associations, plays on words (interpreting dreams through
free assoication is not new), discussions on good and bad dreams, and
goes into length about the concept of "contraries", that is, to dream of
one thing is to realize the opposite in real life.
Dreams were also very important to the ancient Babylonians and
Greeks. Greeks used dreams in particular to find cures for the sick.
One way of doing this was to incubate "healing" dreams by spending a
night in the temple of Aesculapus, the God of Healing. Dreaming the
"right" dream could produce a cure.
In second century A.D., the roman Artemidorus of Ephesus
developed the most comprehensive system of dream interpretation and
concepts until the time of Sigmund Freud. Artemidorus claimed that
dreams were continuations of the activities of the day and that the
contents of dreams were influenced by the dreamer's sex, age, occupation,
and station in life.
In the bible, Old and New Testaments make many references to the
interpretations of dreams. Early Hebrews used dream interpretation to
influence behavior and thought. Dreams and their meanings were prominent
in the writings of church fathers from St. Augustine up to the time of
Thomas Aquinas (1226-1274) who, following the lead of Aristotle, decided
that dreams should be ignored. (Aristotle was one of the few Greeks who
dismissed the gods as sources of dreams).
Early Christainty, though, did reinforce the belief in the
divinatory power of dreams, especially the significance of vivid and
repetitive dreams. Again, the ancient Greek ritual of dream incubation
was kept alive for some time through the nocturnal vigils at the shrines
of Christain saints. But the church during the Middle Ages taught that
dreams were not important and it was best to ignore them for dwelling on
them could produce lunacy. (They probably claimed this was so to
already firmly establish itself as the Ultimate Authority on everything).
In the 16th century, the coming of the Reformation ended the
widespread belief in the supernatural, though dreams, at the popular
level, still retained their importance. Dream interpretation was a
service offered by ceremonial wizards and astrologers, and was the
subject of magickal formulae in various arcane handbooks. There were
also many dream dictionaries written, based largely on the work of
Artemidorus...
>>That's it for Part One! Sorry so brief. If anyone knows more
interesting stuff on dreams from historical references, please send in
some input.
Til then, Dream on!!
--Val, the Dream Shaman
__________________________________________________________________________
Questions and Answers
*My question for everyone is what is the worst nightmare you have ever
had?
Matthew Parry (mettw@newt.phys.unsw.edu.au)
Since people were sending in nightmares, I will send one I had
about seven years ago.
I dreamed I met the devil and he took me to a cave. He was tall
and ugly in a way I can't really describe; his face was kind of mashed
in on itself. He had the usual horns and pitchfork and tail.
At the back of the cave was a boiling pit of molten material. I
had to crawl on a wide ledge to look in it (he said "go look in my pit").
It was boiling and on the surface a bit of metal seemd to be floating,
undissolved. He was poking at me with his fork, and saying, "Go on,
jump in, it's easy." I realized that the metal was the fillings of
people who had jumped in. I was sickened by this, and I realized then
that he wanted the metal, but he was afraid to come over and get it; I
think he wanted me to retrive it and then jump in. I turned around and
grabbed him and threw him in! He bobbed a few times as the liquid stuck
to his flesh (it looked like karo syrup) and then he went under for good.
Well it seemed that the dream was about finding some inner
resolve to face life; this dream probably came after an evening of
contemplating what were seemingly dire straits, and thoughts of killing
myself. I can't remember now, since it was a long time ago, but I guess
I have discovered some of that resolve along the way :)
edb@airpcs.com (formerly edb@teltechlabs.com)
skyweasel@airpcs.com
My worst nightmare (I hope I haven't told this one before--seems
I posted it on the net a while back.......):
A woman I believe to be a nature goddess is at my window,
beckoning me to come outside and join her. (This woman is a recurrant
character in my dreams, although I haven't seen her lately.) Although
in most dreams, my surroundings do not match my waking environment, in
this dream, they did. I was floating out of my bed, toward my actual
window, which was slightly ajar in RL.
Once outside, she insisted that I tell her I love her, and
pledge my everlasting allegiance to her. She spoike in a lilting voice.
I refused. She became angry, and grabbed me! She would not let
go, and was hugging me so hard that it hurt my side! I forced myself to
wake up. My side ached terribly, in RL. Then later, when my cat came
into the room, she had a FIT when she went over to the window--hissed
and spat and growled, although my roommate and I couldn't see anything
out there.....
That one shook me up for days!
Pamela Ryan (pryan@prairienet.org)
*Have any of you had reoccurring themes or images in your dreams? What
are some of your reoccurring themes/images and what do you feel these
things have to say about you?
Val, the Dream Shaman (ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu
I'm sorry I was unable to participate in the last project. {Note from
Chris: It isn't too late! See the next batch of dreams to analyze in
the Dream Projects section, and be sure to send in your own collection;
5 to 10 dreams. Make sure it is a fair sampling, not just the exciting
ones.} It looked like great fun!! But I would like to offer some of the
reoccurring themes/images in my dreams and how I interpret them.
Swimming Pools: These represent my emotions. Sometimes I happily plunge
into one and splash about, sometimes one is full of murky, dirty water
and is hiding something very unpleasant that I need to face, and
sometimes one is completely empty.
Houses: I feel these represent my psyche. Many times they are a joy to
explore and uncover hidden treasures, sometimes they are frightening,
empty and not fully "lived in."
Breaking through glass to escape: Glass seems to represent an invisible
barrier. I break through, knowing I could get injured on the broken
glass (I take a risk in breaking this barrier) but it always ends up
being well worth the resulting freedom.
Cats: Cats always appear in my dreams to comfort me whenever things are
going horribly. A "warm fuzzy" if you will.
Pregnancy/giving birth: A creative process resulting in a work of art.
Cars: These usually refer to how much control I feel I have. Sometimes I
am driving the car and can make it fly (lots of control), sometimes I
find myself as a passenger in a car with no driver and immediately slide
over (taking control), sometimes while driving the brakes don't' work
properly and I end up running a lot of red lights or risk running into
something (losing control and fearing the consequences), sometimes the
car is too small for me to get into and drive (control seems to be out
of my reach, a physical impossibility), sometimes, I reach the controls
from the back seat and am actually driving the car although it looks to
the outside world that the person in the driver's seat is driving
(feeling I am the REAL person in control even though by all appearances
it seems to be someone else).
Lora Romero Schell (schell@condor.psych.ucsb.edu)
Yes, lots! Here is a short list:
1. Tunnels from which flying dreams may begin: my pathway in/out
2. Barbed wire/glass/stone walls to crash through: represent
obstacles to my freedom, which I crash through
3. Furniture, boulders, crowds of people blocking way: frustration;
they represent obstacles to freedom I can not crash through
4. Alcoves containing altars: finding my true holy place within
kings, queens, knights: finding self-rule, serving it
5. Precocious babies: usually means I'm about to take a new step
in my painting or writing
6. Public defecation: horror of embarrassing myself; fear of some
kind of exposure -- either through my art or my actions
7. My old teacher-mailbox full of messages about mandatory meetings
that I have never read (in fact, I haven't had such a mailbox
for 27 years): concern about having done the wrong thing, taken
the wrong path, avoided the responsibilities I *ought* to have
taken
But then I return to the alcove and the altar and find
some of my paintings hanging on the outer walls. I am
very happy with the path I diverted to.
Marilyn Brown (mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu)
I often seem to be looking for food, or maybe even finding it,
but I never get to eat it. I don't seem to be hungry, I don't need to
eat, but I still want the food and for some reason or other I can't eat
it. Maybe there is something in my life that in necessary to me (I
would say most people need to eat) and I'm not getting it. It isn't yet
critical that I find it, but eventually it might be.
I also dream about places that I have considered home, yet they
have changed. The scenery keeps changing, and if I try to get back, the
way changes. I guess it means I realize in real life things can never
go back to the way they were.
Chris Beattie (cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu)
__________________________________________________________________________
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