Dreams and their importance

Another post taken from my work on my emotional therapeutic course! There were elements of this session that caused me all sorts of issues, namely the concepts of male and female archetypes. I bring it up in the report below, but I also ended up writing another post about it (here) which I sent to my tutors at the time. Since then, the course has been altered to reflect our modern world more accurately, so that was one victory I certainly did not expect!

largeOne of the first things we were told on the dreams workshop was a simply sentence: ‘We cannot sensor our dreams’. That statement holds within it the powerful effect that working with our dreams can have, how it can become a gateway to fears, events, or thoughts we have not been able to access consciously for a variety of reasons. We were presented with Yung’s work as background for our work on analysing dreams. With an awareness that our consciousness is by far smaller than our unconscious/subconscious, we started our travel into the dreamworld and its meanings.

To start with, we looked at what Jung classified as archetypes of what is present within dreams. There are three sets of opposing energies surrounding the self that forms the centre part of the dream and around which everything else revolves. This seven basic archetypes are Jung’s key to the understanding of dreams.

The archetype of the journey stands opposed to the archetype of the cycle of death/rebirth. The first symbolises the beginning of some form of healing work with the destination of the journey often uncertain or irrelevant as the importance lies in the journey itself. It can be represented through actual travelling or the presence of clocks, calendars, mountains in the distance, or even a light in the distance. It speaks of development and progression. The death/rebirth cycle is opposed to the journey archetype in that it doesn’t represent a linear travel but a cycle of change. Death within dreams is unlikely to represent a physical death of the body, but is far more likely to represent the end of something (a state of mind, a situation, a relationship, etc…) with rebirth ever present on the other side of death for each end is in turn a new beginning. Whereas the journey archetype is all about the process of moving forward, the death/rebirth cycle archetype represents a crisis and the potential for something to change and begin anew.

The next set of opposing archetypes are those Jung refers to as the masculine and largefeminine archetypes (which I shall henceforth be referring to as the Yin and Yang archetypes as a way to remove myself from any gender bias attached to either of the sets of energies discussed here, with the Yin corresponding to the set of ‘feminine’ energies and the Yang to the ‘masculine’ ones). On one side the Yang energies are the doing, pro-active energies. They’re about focus and structure, about logical thought and assertiveness. Taken to the extreme they become the violent energies, domineering and frightening. On the other side the Yin energies are about growth, acceptance, and welcoming. Those energies are about nurturing and the simple state of being. Taken to the extreme they become overly passive and stagnant. Where the previous pair of archetypes worked on an either/or basis (we are either undertaking a journey OR in the process of death and rebirth) the Yin and Yang archetype is very much so about balance of the two sets of energies (which is why I also thought the Yin and Yang words were perfect to use in this regard as they are primarily about balancing energies within ourselves). Whenever these energies appear within our dreams (Yung says we usually use people of the relevant gender to personify these emotions but within my personal experience I see it as more being people who we see as representing those energies, gender regardless) it is usually as a way to tell us that there is an imbalance, that one energy might be more predominant than the other and that we need to find ways to rectify this.

Finally, the third set of opposing archetypes are the hero or saviour archetype and the adversary archetype. One the one side, the hero archetype is a positive energy about winning and saving (ourselves). It can take the shape of a warrior, or a cornucopia and represents the light. The adversary is its exact opposite with a negative energy bent on opposition and destruction. Represented by things such as fire, the devil, or wounds, it is the darkness to the hero’s light. Here the aim of these archetypes is not so much to balance each other as to be integrated. Jung believed that we needed to integrate our darkness (referred to in his work as shadow) by accepting its existence and acknowledging it. In our dreams the darkness can often manifest in the form of something chasing us, something behind us that we cannot see but are often afraid or apprehensive about. The resolution comes when we become able to turn around and accept what is behind us in our dream, therefore taking the shadow of our selves within us, and integrating it into our self.

large (2)The seventh archetype is the centre one: the self. It represents both unity and separation and is the focus point of the healing process. There are many ways for the self to present itself in our dreams, although commonly it can be seen that a house (usually from childhood) represents the self.

Dreams can easily be seen and looked at as one would look at a drama, a play unfolding upon a stage. People as actors inhabit our dreamworld with their role and meaning not always matching the person they are in our waking life, making all their interactions with us and one another meaningful on a level deeper than the simply interactions of daily life. There is often a beginning to the dream that serves to set the scene. From there onwards the plot unfolds as it would in a play with the actors going about their roles and the momentum gathering around whatever the problem is until a climax or turning point is reached. When looking at dreams as drama it is interesting to analyse the place of the actors within the setting. It also gives us the opportunity to look at the sequencing of events and the interactions that have occurred. The ending whether it be a fulfilling conclusion or an abrupt end, also holds meaning as to our situation and mental state in our waking hours.

To access a more in depth analysis of dreams we looked at three separate methods which I will now briefly describe and discus as relevant to my own personal analysis done on the day.

The first method we looked at views dreams as happening in three stages: the introduction, the story, and the ending (be it through solution or catastrophe). Each part is analysed separately: what does the first sentence of the introduction tell us? We look at the characters and setting introduced and try to draw association with our waking lives. Throughout the introduction and the story we look at what the dream is trying to say by using recent events in our lives to see if they can be linked with what is happening in the dream. Finally we must extricate from the ending of the dream what action might be needed in our daily life to fix the issue at hand.

I personally found this way of analysing dreams to be very efficient for myself as the dream I used for this I had very detailed recognition of and was therefore able to clearly look at possible associations without needing to be guided. It felt like it is definitely a method that would work best for people who very clearly recall their dreams (or at least the dream worked on) and are easily able to bring back details to mind. It also does seem to encourage a very current interpretations, by which I mean it seems to try and root the message of the dream in the present situation of the person. It asks to draw association with what happened during the previous day, but does not appear to seek to make links with perhaps longer standing issues/anxieties that the person might have and would therefore be better used for dreams that the client feel are relevant to their current situations and not something that is deeply rooted within their past (for example, a recurrent dream).

The second method consists of a list of questions to ask the dreamer. It is a guided large (1)approach to dream analysis which focusses on specific aspects. The list of thirteen questions seeks to draw out the most important parts and feelings associated to the dreams by asking thigs like a word title the dreamer would give his or her dream, what actions were taken, or what would be done differently if the dream was lived in real life. These questions are there to help the client focus only on the elements of the dream which may be helpful if the person is not used to working with dreams or struggles to recall the dream in its entirety. Being able to focus simply on the parts of it that are relevant and meaningful also partially removes the chance of drawing associations simply for the sake of finding meaning behind every single thing. I found it an interesting method when I worked with it as it brought to light one or two elements of the dream that I had not regarded in the same way before, although overall there was a restrictive quality to the questions that I found did not let me explore my dream as freely.

The final method we looked at is Johnson’s four steps in dreamwork. The first step is all about making associations: we are to take the dream’s imagery and create direct associations with words, ideas or feelings that are relevant to us. The associations need to stay direct and not become a chain of connections as this is just the first stage. The associations need to feel right, to ‘click’ for the person making them, which means it advised to not be using a dream dictionary of any kind of universal dream symbols as a way to create the associations, at least not initially. The second part focusses on linking the dream images we have just acquired to our own inner life. We are now seeking to created links in between the words/ideas/feelings that we associated with what was in the dream to our waking selves and our daily lives. We may look at patterns present in the dream that also exist in our waking lives, at emotions that are echoes of our own personalities. The goal is to seek to understand what the dream is trying to draw our attention to: is something changing that we haven’t noticed? Has a healing happened or begun to happen that we didn’t think had? We only begin to interpret all of the findings from step one and two in the third and penultimate step. Here we draw together everything we have looked at so far to find the central message in the dream. We focus on what feelings are there and try to find an interpretation that resonates honestly with ourselves. Finally, the fourth step looks at taking a concrete step following the dream. Whether it be writing a letter, talking to someone, changing certain aspects of our lives, we must focus here on what we can do during our waking time to implement the message of the dream and therefore step closer to wholeness and individuation.

large (3)When I used this method for the dream I was working on, I both found it very helpful and somehow confusing. I liked how creative and free it allowed me to be, especially after the restrictions of the second method. But I did, however, find that I was terrible at sticking to the separate steps and tended to plough on ahead, mixing everything together and doing it all at once. Perhaps I would not have tried to create the associations in the same way had I not been working from this method but I found it difficult to just keep to the steps as each images unfurled into a flurry of associations that were easy to trace and work with. It is definitely a method that I think is best suited to people who find it easy to connect with their dreams, and I believe it is probably also important to not use it as a rigid to-do list but more as a guideline in how best to get the most possible out of our dreams and as a way to keep track of the different levels of associations and when it is best to pull everything together for an overall meaning.

Before finishing it is worth adding that we spoke briefly about keeping a dream log and the importance of it for people who wish to work with their dreams. Whenever keeping such log it is best to write what we remember of our dreams as soon as possible as well as leave space in between each dream to give us a chance to come back later on and to look at them with fresh eyes as we might be able to bring a new level of understanding after we have had time to think about the dream.

 

Book review: The Drama of Being a Child (The Search for the True Self) – Alice Miller

This is actually a book report I had to write for my course, so it might be less of a traditional book review and more of a summary/general impressions I had of the book. Either way it seemed enlightening enough for those who might be wondering whether to read this to post it here. I don’t usually review books that aren’t genre fiction so this feels very odd, and somewhat personal too, but I do hope it will interest those who are intrigued by this field of study and self-discovery!

 

41046HJX0YL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Miller offers through her book a fascinating tale of the effects of childhood, not solely on the child as these events take place, but more so on the adult. These events from childhood that have become the invisible strings that guide us through our lives are, more often than not, simply accepted by the adult person as a fact that had little to no consequences on their lives. It is only when as an adult we can look back to our childhood days and not only understand but truly feel what affected us as children, that we can begin to unravel the tangle of fears, habits, and issues that has followed us everywhere we went during our adult life.

Much like emotional therapeutic counselling, Miller recognises the importance of the hurt and lonely child we all carry within us. She emphasises that it is that child’s emotions that make us often react as we do to the world around our adult selves. Because that child is made of so many repressed emotions, so he seeks to either take revenge upon the world, or hide away everything even more. The dialogue with this Inner Child is, to Miller, as intrinsic a part of healing, as it is for emotional therapeutic counselling.

Miller also mentions the importance of confronting those who have caused the hurt during childhood, whether face to face or, if the former is impossible for one reason or another, through a mental dialogue wherein the adult can finally unload the Inner Child’s actual feelings onto the person who has caused them and have a discussion with them. Similarly to emotional therapeutic counselling, Miller does not believe that we can be free of the hurt of our childhood until we have truly felt the emotions that our child-self repressed.

Another element in the book that reminded me strongly of what we had done in the course was Miller’s regular mention of her patients’ dreams and their importance in their therapy. She takes dreams as the subconscious’ way of talking to us, or trying to point where or what the issues might be. She points out in one of her examples how it can be an easy way to track therapy progress as the patient’s dreams change and evolve.

I personally found this read enlightening, especially following what I had already learnt about myself during the course and it shed a fascinating light on some elements of my childhood that has just seemed that they had left me unaffected up to that point. Stories of which I have little to no recollection but have been told about seemed to come back with stark clarity as the emotions I had felt were accessed. It emphasised that it was ok for my adult self to revisit those emotions, to let them happen and face the feelings of my childhood without fear of any consequences. It has allowed me to understand my reactions to certain things that happen around me, as well as turn the emotions elicited towards their true target instead of the situation at hand.

5/5

Becoming an adult

I’ll put a disclaimer before starting that this isn’t a subject that I have researched beyond what my uni textbook had to say. It is, however, something I have given a fair amount of thought to as it has felt particularly relevant to me and the people around me in the last couple of years. So this post is really more of a collection of my thoughts and feelings about the subject than it is a researched article on the subject of becoming an adult.

I was raised in a place where majority was at 21 but my big birthday, my coming of age, was to be my 18th birthday. At 18, I was going to be considered an adult in most countries I could travel to, I would be starting university, and I would generally be expected to behave more like, well, an adult. Whatever that actually means.

I’m now twenty-something, and I feel absolutely no older than when I use to run home from school at 17, dump my homework to the side and lodge myself in front of a video game for a couple of hours. I’ll grant you that I do more than I did back then: I can drive, I can cook, I have a degree, I have held a full-time job for three years, I’m in a relationship, and I have made some life-changing decisions. And yet, at the very core of me, I still don’t feel like an adult.

I learnt to drive at the behest of my mother, begrudgingly at first as I would have been quite happy to spend the time driving around sitting in my bedroom playing a video game. But I learnt—and aren’t I glad I did!—and got my licence. That document alone was supposed to be, after the event of my birthday, the first thing that marked me as an adult. Perhaps I would have felt more grown up if the first car I had hadn’t been a Volkswagen New Beetle, painted bright metallic blue, with a flower in the vase next to the steering wheel, crying out ‘gay’ perhaps a little more than I had intended.

But the car didn’t do it.

Then I left home and went on a gap-year around Europe selling anime merchandise around conventions. Feeling like an adult back then equated to making sure that I had enough money for what I wanted to do; the setting up at conventions, acquiring and selling of stock more felt like a fun game. What should have really made me feel like an adult—earning my own money, travelling, living by myself—fell seriously short of the mark: I was a teenager on a gap year having more fun than I had ever had in my life.

After that I settled away from home, studied at university, and eventually got a job. Surely, alongside living my myself, being financially independent and having a job should have been what finally marked me as being an adult. Instead, I spent three years playing at being an adult, doing everything I could to look older than I was—I look about eighteen on a good day, and I’m in my late twenties—and pretending that I was Mr Cristea, team leader and expert salesman.

But there was the point: I was pretending. I had never felt so out of place in my life as I did where I worked and I forced myself to appear differently so that I would be taken seriously. I put on a mask, and for all it felt as though it had stuck for good, it fell apart at the first opportunity.

So how the hell does one become an adult? My uni book hinted that any of the things I have cited above (learning to drive, leaving home, getting a job) should have made me into an adult. But I don’t feel like one. There are days I forget how old I am and would hardly be lying if I said I was nineteen or twenty. It’s not like there is  a button in our brain that gets pressed when we enter majority and suddenly turns us into an adult, although it probably would be simpler at times—and much, much more boring—if there was.

I have reached the conclusion that I may never end up feeling like an adult and it is a strange feeling to say the least. But perhaps this is simply due to the fact that my generation, and the ‘geek community’ I am part of just sees the world in a different way. It is perfectly acceptable for men to litter their desks with cute figurines, play video games until the little hours of the morning—even if they have work the next day—and geek-out to music, anime, and movies all day long with friends.

So maybe it’s a generation thing, and being an adult doesn’t mean the same now as it did when my parents entered adulthood. Or maybe the mentalities have changed so much, the world around us changed so much, that becoming an adult is different and happens later on in life.

Becoming, and being, an adult are tricky things that are often mentioned but never really talked about. No-one ever tells us what will make us

But is it as simple as that?

adults, or what it will feel like. It’s a bit like falling in love: there is no way to describe when, how, or why it will happen. When asked when I would know I was in love, all my father could reply was ‘you will Know’. Is that how it works for being an adult? I have no idea, but if that’s the case, then I’m most definitely not one yet!