Dirt

Once upon a time there was a sower who, when she was born, was given a plot to grow whatever she wanted on it. She was told that it was the best piece of earth with the most fertile soil in the world. She began planting cucumbers there, since cucumbers had been grown on that soil for generations and, sure enough, she grew the largest, juiciest cucumbers she had ever seen. Obviously this really WAS the best soil in the world.
That is, she thought so until she decided she wanted to grow something else. Bluberry bushes and pumpkins and strawberries. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried those fruits would never grow. She would see adjacent farmers harvesting everything, along with cucumbers, throughout the year.
She began to have serious doubts that her plot was actually the most fertile in the land. She was beginning to come home absolutley haggard from the effort it took to try to maintain the more difficult crops. She started to realize that, while her plot was perfect for cucumbers, it was practically fatal to all other kinds of fruits. People, who began to notice her worn out appearance everyday as she came up from the garden, told her that she must not be gardening correctly, or that she needed to stop gardening non-cucumber plants, since, if the most fertile soil in the world wouldn't grow them, perhaps they were just weeds.
It was too late though. She knew they weren't bad fruit. In fact, they were much more flavorful and nutritious and beneficial than cucumbers. She tried to grow a plot full of cucumbers again but it just seemed drained and empty around harvest time. Eventually she started buying soil from other plots and incorporating that into hers.
People disapproved, saying that she was ruining the best plot in the neighborhood. She just smiled and had another slice of blueberry pie.

"Handsome?"

So here was one I had last night. I didn't really think it was particularly interesting, but then I thought about it again and thought it would be an interesting post.

So, for some reason there was a guy in front of a shopping center and he was selling like fantasy-type jewelry. (I think the store was Costco...which is probably because I went to Costco for the first time last night...and I've recently been shopping for jewelry so that makes sense in the language of dreams). Anyway, so I'm looking and looking and I only really remember like a locket, that was too expensive ( had a leaf on it). But then I saw this beautiful pin that was all "curly vines made of gold" and pearls and diamonds and stuff. It was called the Galadriel pin (like some of that Lord of the Rings commemorative jewelry), and it was something like 11 dollars ( I remember). The biggest memory I have is that there was like a little note on it that said something about how great the pin would look on a "handsome" body. I just remember standing there for a few seconds trying to figure out if this was a pin for men or women. I was really bothered because I couldn't tell if I should buy it or not, since i couldn't tell if it was for women. In the end I decided it didn't matter and bought it. I just remember this dream in particular because I woke up and was really disappointed that I hadn't actually purchased one.

Gotta love those dreams when reality and dream are blurred.

Turtle Dream

It's been a while since I've had a particularly symbolically interesting dream. I just had a pretty good one recently. All these dreams are actually accompanied with really strong emotions. When I write them down, they always sound artificial and lame. I'll have to find a way to remedy that.


So I'm a turtle. I'm a sexy confident turtle. Then I fall asleep and wake up to find I have no shell. I'm starting to get a little freaked out because there are buzzards circling overhead, ready to eat me and I have no shell! I am very scared and alone. Imagine the type of hopeless fear of being a shell-less turtle with no way to excape. I mean, I'm a turtle. Not like I can run away. That's why I had developed a shell in the first place.
All of a sudden i see my shell and head toward it. Then a line of seagulls fly down and start talking to me. They stand in front of my shell. "Hey guys. I've just noticed I don't have my shell, and I really need it. Could you please move?" The seagulls respond, "You never HAD a shell, what are you talking about?" By now I'm in a bit of a panic because I'm defenseless and the buzzards are getting ready to eat me. It's actualy getting really serious. "No IDIOTS! I've got to have my shell! It's mine and I need it!" "You didn't seem to need your shell, a few seconds ago when you were alseep." "That's because I was asleep and didn't notice that I was MISSING MY SHELL! I never really noticed the buzzards when I had a shell, but now I don't have my shell and I need it. Please move." The buzzards are circling lower. I'm completely defensless and at the whim of the stupid seaguls. I start crying. "It's MY SHELL. I've got to have it. I've just got to." "You never had a shell. If you weren't so prideful you would just let us protect you." "No. I'm a turtle! I have my own shell and I've always had it. You can't do this to me!" The buzzards are growing in numbers. I'm crying hysterically now and pounding the sand. My brain is in a panic mode, trying to figure out how to make sense of this bizzarely unjust situation. Finally I just give up, and in complete angry, sick hopelessness, roll over on a sandbank and get ready to die. Now remember, this turtle is me, and is full of the entire broad range of human emotions. Imagine the feelings you have as you approach a helpless death, in eyesight of your shell. It's horrifying. The seagulls are laughing and jeering and getting downright self-righteous at how I won't just ask them for help. I take one more look at my shell and then get violently eatten.

I think I am suffering from shell-lessness.

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time there was a princess named Dea. She grew up in a beautiful tower, with golden sheets and carpets and curtains made of silk. There was a noble prince who was there to protect her at all times from the Evil Dragon. She had never seen this Dragon, but she lived in fear of it every day of her life. She was also incredibly grateful for the brave knight who told her exactly what to do everyday, stories about how her parents had died, and was always on hand to open the magic jars of golden honey and sweet jam she had.
Then one day, when Dea was grown she wanted some Jam in the middle of the night. She was very tired and in her sleepy state she reached up to the cupboard and took out a jar of honey and opened it. She was stunned. She had been able to open the jars her whole life. Wouldn't the knight be happy when he found out.
He wasn't happy. He was furious. He told her that her ability to open jars was a deceitful gift from the Evil Dragon himself, which made her unappreciative of her beautiful tower and her brave knight. The princess was confused. She knew she wasn't being tricked by the dragon, but just in case, she put the jars away. The next few weeks she continued to call for the night to open her jars, but was beginning to find it increasingly ridiculous. She just started opening the jars herself in the middle of the night, or on days when the knight was gone and she usually didn't get to eat any honey or jam. One day while he was gone, she decided she would take a walk outside her tower, just to enjoy the sun. She decided to stay close though, so she could avoid the Evil Dragon. the princess walked around her balcony and spun and played for several hours, eating jam and honey. The next day, she thought about how weird it was that the dragon never showed up. Wouldn't the knight be pleased when he found that there really was no dragon, and that she could now take care of herself. They could slay dragons together and they could eat jams and honey together and things would be wonderful. When the knight came back, she ran out on the balcony to greet him. He suddenly got very very angry and took her roughly by the arm and slapped her in the face. He then threw her to the ground inside her golden room and locked the door. He wasn't treating her like a princess at all. "Have you no respect for this beautiful tower I made you? Have you no respect for your princesshood? Have you no respect for how I help you to open your jars of jam and honey, which you can barely do yourself without swooning! You are possessed of an evil spirit from the dragon!"

The princess looked around. Suddenly she was very angry and confused. She knew she could open up the jars by herself. She knew she could play outside all day and not be attacked by a dragon. She banged on the door and tried breaking out but the knight would come in and slap her, or scream at her. She swiftly learned her lesson and stayed put, but she was suddenly very depressed. Her beautiful tower now felt like a prison. It was a prison. When the knight would come in, she would scream and plead and say " I love my tower, but I love other things too! Please let me out and stop being ridiculous." She would just be slapped around the room, or mocked, or told she was possessed or that she didn't love her tower and was terribly ungrateful. She started to lose heart. Eventually she stopped trying and just sat on her golden bed in the dark, hair unkempt and skin sallow. She couldn't get out. She started to pretend like she couldn't open the jars, and would make large show of how terrified she was of the "dragon". The knight treated her like a princess during those times but she knew it was a lie. Other noblewomen and men came to see the princess. She was dilapidated, sick and going slightly insane from having to pretend to be unable to open jars and believe in dragons. She would hear the knight tell them that she was in such a depressed delapitated state because she had had too much sun, had been possessed by the Evil Dragon and had lost all respect for her tower and her beloved knight.
She was rapidly begininng to hate her beloved knight.
She was beginning to have dreams about throwing herself from the tower. She didn't though because she knew that the knight would only say that the dragon had made her do it, and then he would never be punished. When she tried to tell the other ladies and nobles in the court about it, they assumed that she was ungrateful and possessed and either got angry and slapped her across the face for telling such lies, or politely ignored her and told her not to get worked up about little things like that.

There was no dragon, just an Evil knight. One day the princess pretended to be very ill, stole his sword and stabbed him in the back. She slew her Evil Dragon, and tossed him out of the window.
Dea spent the rest of her life living peacfully in her lovely tower, eating jam and honey and playing in the sun. Dea left when she needed to, ate when she needed to and found her parents, who were not dead, but alive and missing her terribly. Apparently she had been kidnapped by a knight who wanted a princess so bad that he had stolen one away from her parents.

Strange Dreams I've Had

I'm married to WhatsHisName. We have a daughter and several other children who I can't see as clearly. It's their first day of school. She is about seven or eight. She sits down in her chair to receive her back-to-school blessing. Her father puts his hands on her head, and then invites me to do so. It seems to be very normal. We both put our hands on her head. He speaks first and then I speak my part. Because it's a dream there is light around us, and my hair ( which also looks fabulous because it's a dream. he he he) is kind of floating. After the blessing our daughter shoots up, grabs her backpack and runs to the bus. We are still there, though, our hands still clasped together, just looking at each other. I think we kiss after that, with the shadowy children still running around. We are still surrounded by light.



I am standing looking imploringly up at a man. I've had this dream several times and the man is interchangeable with a variety of past boyfriends, male acquaintances and male relatives. I am trying to explain something to him. I am imploring him to understand me. He looks at me with a sort of confused pity. He doesn't' understand me. My head only goes up to his chest and his arms are strong. I start getting worked up and frustrated that he doesn't understand me. I try to back away but he's holding me too tight and I can't. I start to panic and I'm in hysterics. He doesn't understand me. The words and meaning just bounce off his rock hard chest. His expressions look confused and annoyed and pitying. I can't get away, no matter how hard I try. I am crying and screaming and I'm beating at him with my fists. He holds me tighter. I start to claw at him with my fingernails. I'm getting worked up. I'm in a hysterical panic. He doesn't understand and he won't let me go. (*I'm actually getting worked up into hysterics just thinking about this dream. It's really scary, just emotionally.*) For some reason, in the dream it makes sense that the meaning of my words has to get inside him and that it doesn't. Somehow there is a knife in my hand. I start to hack away at the man. He is no longer a man. He isn't screaming. He just keeps standing there holding me. I keep hacking in a delirium, until I'm covered with guts and blood and I've hacked him completely open and down. He's just a pile of meat now. I'm covered in blood and holding a knife. It's not evil looking. It is stange that the sight of that image in my mind fills me with joy and releif. I'm free and the message got through. I then walk away, confident and triumphant, covered with blood. I step over the body. In some versions of the dream I spit on the body as I pass. It's weird because I don't like gore. I never watch violent television and I am a sympathetic humanist. It just feels so good.

I think the first one represents positive creative animus and the second represents negative destructive animus. Both are inside me. I cannot seek them in other people.