Friday, April 12, 2019

Hey Bulldog

fittingly enough,
 this lovely fella is on the wine label of a wine called Paxis
Dreams have thrilled me with revelations for so many years that I put nothing past them.  Yesterday’s dream is this kind of wonderful.

A dream is so often quirky and odd, even just a fragment of a dream. I’ve wished out loud that I could collect a nickel every time someone says to me about a dream, “it was so weird.” Add a little frisson of fear or just ickiness, and you’ve got a gold mine for dream exploration.

The revelatory meaning of a dream starts to unfold as I’m writing it down. First, I rehearse it in my head, re-living my dream ego's experience visually so I get the best memory of it possible. Then I record it, either by writing it down manually or dictating it to my email via iphone, later to be printed out for my journal.    Either way, the act of recording helps the dream come into the waking world where it’s gifts can manifest.  Plus, it helps the dream story stick in my head for further pondering.  

It's when I’m pondering the dream story in my head or re-reading it in  my journal entry, that the “aha” moments come, sometime fast and furious, like puzzle pieces falling into place.  

Understanding is more than a left brain “explanation” of what the dream might mean.  Dreams work at every level of our consciousness, from the visceral to the sublime, to unlock the existential mysteries of our being. It makes me catch my breath in wonder.

Oh, I get the bulldog in this dream, big time. I've seen him before.  And I get the little girl, too.  It’s about more than interpretation. I’ve been given a dream key to unlock a door in my psyche. I can walk through that door using dream play practices I've learned and teach; Jung called it “active imagination” and Robert Moss calls it “dream re-entry.”  

My dream, The Little Girl and the Bulldog is a treasure map for new territories to explore and new soul-healing to be found. What I want to share with you about this dream is that after all these years, my dreams keep me on my toes. They are continually  evolving my understanding, revealing to me the meaning and purpose of my physical existence with firm kindness and deep humor.  This is what makes a dream practice so worthwhile; as they do for me, they can do for you.

When I write down a dream, whether it seems like a big one or not, I give myself time to “get” it.  Often, what I might have dismissed as a nothing dream, just a fragment, is actually a powerful gift to me, one I would have missed if I hadn't paid attention.  

In this dream, I meet two characters in a dreamscape that echoes a particular time and a particular physical location from my life story.  The place is so familiar, but there are differences.  These differences and all the details of the dream give me an entry point for exploring my dream further.  Then there's the relationship I can develop with these characters.  I may recognize feelings and retrieve memories by talking to them; they may tell me things my soul needs to hear. 

Jung recommend pondering a dream, mulling it over while walking or resting, or as I've found, even standing in line at the bank. (Dream pondering is not a practice I'd recommend while driving machinery of any kind.) 

When pondering, I keep the dream with me as I go about my day. Sometimes a dream has the psychic energy to stay with me much longer, unfolding it’s meaning in lazy magic like a butterfly emerging it's cocoon.  Some dreams have the power to stay with me always.

Another tool for a dream practice is what Jung called “amplification” and Robert Moss calls “dream archeology.” Exploring the internet for clues to associations I have with this dream led me to John Lennon and his inspired poem of a song: 

The Beatles

Sheepdog, standing in the rain
Bullfrog, doing it again
Some kind of happiness is
Measured out in miles
What makes you think you're
Something special when you smile

Childlike no one understands
Jackknife in your sweaty hands
Some kind of innocence is
Measured out in years
You don't know what it's like
To listen to your fears

You can talk to me
You can talk to me
You can talk to me
If you're lonely, you can talk to me

Big man (yeah) walking in the park
Wigwam frightened of the dark
Some kind of solitude is
Measured out in you
You think you know me, but you haven't got a clue.

You can talk to me
You can talk to me
You can talk to me
If you're lonely, you can talk to me
Hey hey
Hey, bulldog (hey bulldog)

Dreams are marvels of revelation; they open channels for  our personal empowerment and give us the courage to live life authentically.  

Life is more interesting for dreaming. It's our organic spirituality; we're born dreaming and dreaming we'll cross the threshold to life beyond physical death.  

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