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Jungian Series – Image from Dream

This is a collection of images I have pulled from the theatre of dream. It was through my work with a Jungian therapist that I started to take more note of my dreams and subsequently draw them. Dreams are mysterious things, sent from the ‘other’ or the ‘Collective’, full of sense and nonsense, fears and resolutions and, at the same time, primal but also presently relevant. The subconscious is playful like that, a bit like a cat, and like a cat the more you give it attention the more it will want to play.

Here are the drawings and a script of each dream. The analysis is all mine and pure Stella reasoning but, please, you are welcome to suppose and, please, do listen to your own obscure voice that whispers while you slumber.

The Maze Dream

I am part of a community of people living in a sprawling, 1920’s, Art Deco style building. Something like a school or sanatorium. The space is bright (although I don’t recall any windows or external views) and clean and there is the bustle of people going about their day, wandering long, wide corridors that open into larger communal spaces.

I notice a group of people in serious discussion and as I walk over they turn to me and start to explain the reason for their concern. It becomes apparent that there is some kind of dark possessing force in the complex that inhabits a resident and removes their personality. They become empty souls void of emotion or opinion, not dangerous in themselves, they would not attack you, but they might transmit this force to you. The small crowd were debating as to whether or not this was such a bad thing. How easy and calm life could be once possessed! Others seemed angry about it, some scared, some complacent, if it happens, it happens…

To my dream self the prospect seemed diabolical so I moved away from the group and the discussion and pressed on further into the complex. More long bright hallways with a scattering of people walking one way or the other. I start noticing a blankness to some of the people I pass, a dark aspect presents on emotionless, slack faces. I’m not, so much, fearful of these vacants but avoid any eye contact and don’t get too close to them. This becomes more difficult as, the further I go, the greater their number becomes. I see large, sliding doors off the corridor to my left, pull one open and step inside.

The room I enter has the look of a school gymnasium, a large hall with a high vaulted roof. The room is particularly bright and the floor is covered in people, sitting or reclining, each with large sheets of paper, drawing.  I am approached by a middle aged man, he is quite short and reminds me of a high school art teacher. He is carrying paper in his right hand and ink and pen in the left. He hands these to me and explains – ‘You have to draw a maze. If the dark, possessing force comes for you, you can trap it in the lines of your maze.’

I take my sheet and set to work, on the gymnasium floor, putting the lines down for my maze. The tool I have is something like a dip pen but also brush-like, the ink is very dark and slightly viscous. I need to keep recharging the pen-brush from a pot of the ink. When I do this the lines I have put down come alive and wriggle around the paper. I try putting pots of water, the ink pot and the pen-brush on the paper to stop the lines from wriggling off but this does not work and the lines start branching apart and multiplying like amoebas, the whole dream becomes the page, swamped in writhing ink. Then I awake.

The Mass and the Line

This was a recurring dream image from my early youth which presented, mostly, at times of illness. I can’t recall the first manifestation; it seemed like something that had always been there, in the depths.

It was a realisation of two infinitely opposed forms – The Mass and the Line.

The Line – infinitely thin but infinitely long, a dead straight wire. An atom or less in diameter you would not know it was there unless you knew it was there but it can only cut and can never be broken.

The Mass – An amorphous blob of indiscriminate density. In part like pouring concrete, in part like bread dough, in part like dark-churning-smoke, in part like clay, chewing-gum, raw wool, matted hair. The Mass churns, ever changing, colour, state and form, from bulbous wet sack to stony monolith.

The Line placed on the Mass will cut the Mass no matter what form it is taking. The Mass will close up along the line of the cut and reform.

The dream gave me a sense of deep discomfort and frustration but not like a typical nightmare. The two things placed together seemed impossible and should not be seen together.

Quantum Observation

This is a dream I had at a time of great stress and restlessness. Set in a dark, space-like void I was surrounded by many lights of various colours. They moved around me, falling in and out of pattern, I could move as a disembodied point of observation. My task in the dream was to observe certain points of light at specific points in time, which I was able to do quite easily to start with. The patterns increased in velocity and complexity. The number of lights seemed to grow and the dream became frantic to a point it woke me up. The last impression I had was thinking that to observe this you would need to be everywhere at once and then it would start to observe you.

Apollonian Bowl

A dream set in a rough scrub area with low lying water and iron beam structures protruding from the ground at broken angles. A rough track runs through this wasteland and I am travelling along it on an industrial looking quad bike. The track continues into a large factory/ warehouse building where the atmosphere feels bland and tawdry. I know that there are tasks here that I should be attending to but instead continue to ride the quad around the large industrial space. There are other workers in this space, dressed in overalls and assigned to tasks. They hold me with disapproving stares, being very unimpressed with my riding around.  The more I feel their annoyance the more I act up, treating derision with scorn, until I find myself in a workers’ canteen area with a group of the workers standing in the middle of the room. They are looking at me and don’t seem friendly. One of the workers approaches me, with the others looking on, and hands me what appears to be a lump of preserved meat. I take this from him and examine it, probing it with my finger, and it becomes apparent that I am holding half a human head. I look to the worker who handed me the head and he says; ‘Pick what you can from this, save the rest for stock’.

Mouth of Mud

I am in a wet coastal town walking on a narrow road halfway up a rocky coast that descends steeply to a grey sea. The greyness feels oppressive and the whole setting distils a sense of hopelessness. I am looking for somewhere to go to lift the listless feeling I have in the dream. I come upon a small roadside pub and go in. The interior is gaudy, lights flash from gambling machines and strings all around the bar, it is noisy with bells and beeps and I immediately dislike the place. Looking over the bar there is nothing I want to drink so I leave. Now outside there are other people milling around. They all look sad or annoyed. I am told that there is a music festival at the top of the slope and if I hurry I could get in. I begin climbing the slope to get to the top. Going is difficult climbing through scrub and climbing dark, wet rocks. Other people are climbing either side of me they discourage me from climbing and criticise the way I am going. This makes the assent even harder work but eventually I reach the top of the slope. The top plateaus and I can see the footprint of many people passing through the space between two hedges framed by large trees. I follow the foot prints and as I enter between the trees I see a large crowd of people walking in the opposite direction and past me. The ground is churned mud spotted with trash. I walk on, crest-fallen, realising the festival is over. I pick my way through the mud then step fully into a soft area. The mud opened like a mouth and swallowed me.

Orgone Accumulator

In an old looking hotel sweet I find I am cooking steak for three people, myself and two travelling companions. For some reason I am trying to cook the steaks to be perfectly round and this is taking some effort. My companions then inform me that they are not hungry or will be going out later to eat. This makes me angry in the dream and I immediately discard the food and head for the door. The door sticks so I kick it open. It makes a loud bang and I am surprised to find a startled group of guests on the other side. I apologise and they explain that they are going to a bar if I would like to join them? Remembering my ungrateful companions I agree and say I will catch them up. The hotel is part of a grand complex of walkways and pillars that spreads out in a vast grid below high vaulted roofs. Light spills in from rows of windows, set high above, creating a twilight inside the complex. Rooms are set a level down each side of the wide walkways. I realise that the other guests have got ahead of me and I have lost sight of them. I look over the balustrade at the side of the walkway into one of the recessed rooms. I spot the guests through a large plate glass window on the far wall and also a door. I decide to try and get to the door. The room below is stacked with allsorts of junk, random objects and furniture, mostly tables. I worked out that I could climb down the stacked tables and get to the door. I climb down a couple of tables then jump to the top of a large, wooden box. On landing the box shifted down and a flash of blue light exploded beneath me.  Worried, I climb down the box to the floor and find a man climbing out of a padded area near the base of the box. He looks a little startled as if he’d just been woken up. I apologise and expect him to be angry but he is amiable and goes on to explain that he was in the box to build up energy, he had been in there for a few hours and had built quite a bit of energy which was lots when I landed on him. Not a problem though as he can make more.

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