Dreams
and Memories
“Dreams
are impartial, spontaneous products of the unconscious psyche, outside the
control of the will. They are pure nature; they show us the unvarnished,
natural truth, and are therefore fitted, as nothing else, to give us back an
attitude that accords with our basic human nature when our unconscious has
strayed too far from its foundation and run into an impasse.”
Carl
Gustav Jung
Today
is my 75th birthday. Just before waking I had a dream in which I
told someone else about my mother. I said, “She never had to turn a screw or
hammer a nail.” This was a simple, one-line dream, so you may think it is
insignificant. Here’s why it’s not: Right now, I am in the middle of some
renovations to my house. In the past week, I have had two paint estimates, two
floor refinishing estimates, a gentleman tell me they charged extra to clean area
rugs if there’s dog-pee in them, and a contractor who wants to begin work tearing
out a bedroom closet tomorrow (Sunday). In the next three days, I have to
choose paint colors, empty and pack everything in the living room bookshelves,
decide how to get my clothes into a second bedroom, and then do it, and plan
where all the furniture on one end of my house can go while the floors are
being cleaned and refinished, and figure out where Liza and I can go for 5 days.
The last time I did this
was at my mother’s house in 2006. Somehow, I managed to move all her furniture
into one bedroom and two bathrooms—I can’t even remember how I did it. When I
was younger, I just did things without asking the “how” question. What I find
myself doing now is feeling whinny and overwhelmed and pitiful. There is a
small voice in my head saying, “I shouldn’t have to do this.” And then, I go
lie down on the sofa and take a nap. So, the dream showed me the “why” of my
feelings of being “put-upon” by mean old life.
My mother was, on the one
hand, a stalwart and determined woman, and on the other, a helpless Southern
belle. She managed to run the household with dexterity, even with a child who
was literally helpless—my little sister, Missy. But she also had a “precious”
side—she didn’t do “men’s work,” which included, as the dream said, “hammering
a nail, or turning a screw,” or getting her hands dirty in the garden or
climbing a ladder and changing a light bulb. In her mind, there were clear divisions
of labor for male and female and she did not cross that line. Since she was the role
model of woman I grew up with, at least part of me (the child part) balks at
the heavy lifting that I must do over the next few days. Thank you, dream maker;
I got the memo.
Carl Jung said, “Dreams
are a little hidden door in the innermost secret recesses of the soul, opening
into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego
consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our
ego-consciousness extends.” (“The Meaning of Psychology for Modern Man”) No
matter how long I live, I will always have that little girl-child part of me
that is modeled after my mother, even though I am perfectly capable of doing
whatever I set my mind to, including “men’s work.” I just wish I could cook
half as well as she did.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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