Dream Analysis

CN Tower, Toronto

My cousin, Betsey, does life coaching, and she offered to analyze a dream for me.  The one I picked out was a doozy:

We lived at the top of something like the CN Tower in Toronto (or the Space Needle in Seattle, but I don’t know the city).  Because we lived there, we didn’t have to wait in line for the public elevators.  At some point my lifelong friend, Maggie, came to visit.  She brought me something, but I don’t remember what it was.

Then I went out and forgot my key, so I had to buy a ticket for the elevator like everyone else.  My Companion (I don’t remember who it was) told me that I should explain that I live there, so I did.  The Ticket Lady was in her 60’s and sort of gruff.  She said that I had to buy a ticket and use a public elevator, but she would go up with me, and refund my money when she saw that I really do live there.  The tickets cost $7.50 each, and they were gray and long (about 6-7 inches) and a little thinner than tickertape.

The Ticket Lady told us to go ahead and get in line.  She busied herself with closing up her ticket booth.  There were 5 ticket booths, all of them manned and lines at each.  But the lines moved pretty fast.  My Companion and I had gone to the booth at the far left.

We went through an opening in the wall directly behind us and into the waiting area.  The line for the elevators was in a wading pool, the water was nicely warm and clean, and amazingly less crowded than the ticket lines.  People really enjoyed the pool as they waited for the elevator.  There were 3 elevators, but they were in a straight line, not curved as you would expect around the tower.  The middle elevator had an enclosed area that hid the people waiting from view.  It was common knowledge that the enclosed area was a Jewish bathhouse.  So I stood in line for the elevator on my right because I’m not Jewish.

The “wading area” for all 3 elevators was between 2 playgrounds for a really tough inner-city elementary school, and we were separated from the playgrounds by cage-like wire.  As my Companion and I waited and enjoyed the water, I looked at the kids on the playground.  One boy on a swing turned and made eye contact with me.  And he gave me the most malevolent look I’ve ever gotten—and he was young, about 6-7 years old!  That look made me shiver.

Then it was our turn to get onto the elevator, and the Ticket Lady was in the pool area, but she didn’t make it onto our elevator.  The elevator was wedge-shaped (like a pie, with one curved side) and it was like an amusement park ride.  There were wire seats that looked like lawn chairs and we were supposed to seatbelt ourselves into the seats.  But the seats weren’t bolted down.  I pulled mine (on the curvy side at a corner) into alignment with the other seats before I sat and buckled up.  The ride to the top was quick, and at the top we met the Ticket Lady.  We knocked at the door and Mom let me in.  The Ticket Lady was gone, but I was sure that she had gone down to get our refund.  Mom scolded me for leaving without my key, and said, “Those bathhouse Jews are homosexuals.”  I said, “All of them?” and she nodded emphatically, “ALL of them!”

I hadn’t felt threatened by the Jews (gay or not, though I doubted that they really were gay), but the kid on the playground had really scared me.  This dream was populated by lots of people I knew, both in our apartment and down in the wading pool.  But the only people I can recall are Mom, Fleur, and my youngest son, Kevin.

The way Betsey analyzed my dream was to actually show me how to analyze the dream myself.  Together we picked out the things that seem to be important symbols and themes: the tower, the elevators, Maggie, whatever Maggie brought me, the key, the tickets, my companion, the ticket lady, the refund, the lines, the ticket booths, the opening in the wall, the waiting area/wading pool, the Jewish bathhouse, the playgrounds, the cage-like wire, the boy on the swing, the wire seats, Mom, the Jews, and Kevin.

Then we went through, item-by-item (or person-by-person) and Betsey instructed me to “be” the item or person.  And she asked me these questions:

1. Name three adjectives to describe yourself (without thinking too much).
2. (Item/Person), what is your purpose in this dream?
3. (Item/Person), what are you trying to tell/show Alisa?
4. (Item/Person), do you have something to say to Alisa?

 

I took notes, but not on the things that didn’t seem important, so here are some of my notes:

• Tower – tall, see everything, over everything; “Come up here!”
• Elevators – open, waiting, enclosing; “Let’s go up!”
• Maggie – “There are gifts all around if you open your eyes.”
• Whatever Maggie brought me – “You have gifts that you have not opened.”
• The key – gold, shiny, important; “Open it up!”
• Tickets – “I am a substitute key.”
• My Companion – “I’m here to remind you!”
• Ticket Lady – “I have tickets for you.”
• Refund – “Things lost can be restored.”
• The lines – I don’t think the lines were significant.  I live in a big city (Milan), so lines and crowds are an everyday thing.
• Ticket booths – “I have tickets for you.”
• The opening in the wall – “I’ll take you to a different reality.”
• Waiting area/wading pool – “Take a moment to relax/This is a safe place to relax.”
• Jewish bathhouse – Chosen, exclusive “You’re not one of us.”
• Playgrounds – “If you forget your key, you’ll be in danger.”
• The cage-like wire – thick, impenetrable, transparent
• The boy on the swing – “I’m gonna get you!”
• The wire seats – Cold, uncomfortable, unsteady
• Mom – Home, safety, love; here to reassure; “Everything is going to be OK.”
• The Jews – Chosen, rigid, conservative; “You’re not one of us.”
• My son, Kevin – Young, irresponsible, unpredictable; here as a symbol; “You grew out of this phase, so will I!”

Betsey then gave me her perspective:

You live at a higher level than others, always moving up.  Maggie reminds you of gifts that you haven’t opened.  Gifts may be related to keys and tickets.  Your companion is a guide, so is the Ticket Lady.  Lost things can be restored.  There is a place that you can get to with substitute keys.  There is an opening from one reality to another, from busy to tranquil.  There is an unwelcoming, exclusive place.  The playground area is scary and menacing.  Mom is reassuring and reassuringly normal.

Then I told Betsey about my interpretation:

In a nutshell, this is a Rapture dream.  The tower-top apartment is the heavenly destination.  The tower says “Come up here!” just like in Revelation 4:1.  The elevators are a conveyance to take me higher (they never went down!).  The unopened gift is my belief that we don’t use the gifts God has given us to the extent that we ought to (like the first century Christians).  Maggie and my Companion both are the Helper, the Holy Spirit (perhaps the Ticket Lady was also the Holy Spirit).  The refund is the restoration of things to God’s original design.  The playground is the world left behind after the Rapture.  Mom’s warning about the bathhouse Jews was weird and completely in character, therefore reassuringly normal.

The Rapture has been on my mind for about a year now.  I believe that it’s going to be soon.  Don’t get left in the playground!  Come up here!  God is good!

Seattle’s Space Needle

Cousinly Love

One of my friends on Facebook is my cousin, Carmelita.  Her posts are always funny and clever and interesting.  And here’s the thing, I had never met her before.  We’re fourth or fifth cousins, and we met through her work on the family genealogy.  Carmelita lives in Austin, so I wanted to meet her while I’m here.  We arranged to meet at her house, where she could show me old family photographs—old like from the 1800’s some of them.

I gave myself an hour to get to her house, which the GPS said was plenty of time.  It wasn’t.  A smart device like that, and it didn’t take traffic conditions into consideration!  I arrived about 20 minutes late.  Carmelita wasn’t upset about that because she was working from home, so she could just continue working while she waited for me.  She came out and hugged me in the driveway.  Then she said, “Gosh!  I hope we like each other!”  I said that I didn’t have any doubt because I already like her, based on her posts.

We went into the house, and her house has lots of great photos taken by her husband, and lots of cool very Texan stuff.  I love her house!  And she has three very affectionate cats.  Yes, Cousin Carmelita and I are definitely compatible!  She brought down the panoramic picture of the 100^th family reunion, and I showed her Mom and Daddy and Grandma and my older son.  She knew my branch of the family very well.  Our family descended from a Texas pioneer couple who had thirteen children.  The family grew exponentially from that beginning, so it is a very large family.  I’m from the oldest daughter, while Carmelita is from the fifth son.

Then I discovered that we have even more in common: Carmelita writes.  Today she is starting a novel for National Novel Writing Month.  The idea is that you write a 50,000 word novel in one month.  It doesn’t have to be a good one, but it must have a beginning and an end.  This is not her first time to write a novel for the contest.  I was impressed.  I’ve written two novels three-quarters of the way through, and then lost interest.  For me, the problem is that I find real life so much stranger and funnier, more tear-jerking, exciting, gut-wrenching, and unpredictable than anything I could possibly make up.

Since I am making up for a severe Mexican food deficit, she took me out for dinner.  The food was not traditional Tex-Mex, but excellent and unmistakably Mexican.  We were surrounded by pirates, witches, fairies, and zombies—it being Halloween.  Austin people celebrate their weirdness and encourage each other to do so with the ubiquitous bumper sticker: Keep Austin Weird.  I’m sorry, but I think the rest of the world is just not weird enough.  I love Austin!

We returned to the house, carefully dodging trick-or-treaters, and I met Carmelita’s husband, Nigel.  They seem to be a really good match.  He’s just as funny and nice as she is.  Before I left them, Nigel took our picture with our great-great-great-great grandparents (well, a picture of them).

We meet at last!

You know, I think Cousin Carmelita and Nigel like her eccentric missionary cousin from Italy.  I certainly like them!  God is good!