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Dream Series Ending in (dream) Suicide

I’ve had a series of dreams for the past few days. On the 22nd I went to my daughter’s in town to attend a charity event, in which I was actively participating. I slept there two nights and each night I dreamed, and came back home last night, and again early this morning I dreamed.

If you want me to post each dream in detail, I can, but I don’t know if it’s necessary. I am posting the one I had this morning in a separate post, that one in its full, gory glory.


Feb 21 – The Dead Sister Comes Back

I dream that I am working for a couple who had two daughters, but one of them died. The other sister tells me that her sister comes back to play with her strange toys. I don’t find that odd in the least.


Feb 22 – I Found A Seedpod!

I am taking lessons from this teacher in a tropical setting, as if I’m on a study trip. I walk on the beach and find a large, strange seedpod with one ‘wing’ – the wing is like that of a Maple tree seed, but much bigger and the seed itself is as big as the palm of my hand. I put it in my pocket to bring inside to show the teacher. For some reason, I never do. There is another woman with me taking the lessons. She is Gisele, my childhood friend from way back, whom I only see in the summer, when she comes back to visit. She is the girl who had the most dramatic change growing up, the proverbial duckling to elegant, beautiful swan, and most talked about at our school reunions.

Feb 23 – My Garbage is what?

I am picking up garbage – wet, messy stuff – from off the lawn and around the house where I grew up. My sister is with me, but she doesn’t help, because this is strictly my job. I have needed to do this for so long and now I’m finally getting around to it. There are many, many bags to fill, but finally after hours of dirty work, I am done! I even walk in mud up to my ankles – it’s springtime and that’s why I’m cleaning up, but I wish things would dry up so we didn’t have all this mess!

All the bags are packed up, side by side, behind the house. My sister stands there looking at them and says, “There are body parts in those bags?!!” I hurry to reassure her that no, not body parts, just wet and old stuff that were strewn all over the place and needed cleaning. But there’s a part of me that shockingly realizes that she is right, but I want to hide that from her...

A woman and child approach. The baby is snuggled in a sleigh that the woman is pushing forward as she walks. They are both dressed in woolen plaid: red and orange, very striking. The baby has something to say to me, so I bend down to his level but I don't remember what he tells me. He is a magical child, this I know for sure.

Now this...

And last night the dream has progressed to debris turning into sewer and the man is committing suicide, wanting to take me with him. Please see that dream for a detailed narration, which I will be posting soon.

Age & Gender & Location {Required}: 60, Atlantic Canada

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Re: Dream Series Ending in (dream) Suicide

Raymonde,
In the first dream there are two sisters one which has died. That 'dead self' comes back to play with toys. This dream is probably addressing the one part of you that had died in childhood {playing with toys} and the other you who is still 'telling' about the unconscious visits.

The second dream may be in one aspect speaking of yours truly {tropical setting, beach}. The large seedpod would be the seed of past experiences and confronting your abuser. But that still has only one wing and is yet to fly. You have put it away not to reveal it {is there something that still has yet to be revealed-not to me but to yourself?}. You have the ability to put it away {palm of hand}. The other woman Gisele has made a big transformation, from childhood to the present. You identify with her because she has been able to transform a 'terrible thing' into something positive. School reunions, the past being reunited in the present.

Third Dream
The garbage would be the 'garbage' in your life, the messy stuff from your childhood home. There is one part of you that doesn't help {the little girl you were?} so the other you has the task of picking up the 'garbage'. Something you have put off doing. A lot of work has been put toward those efforts already and you think you are done with it. The emotional issues are deep and you wish it would all dry up. It is springtime, a time for a seasonal cleaning. Not a complete cleaning but a ritual cleaning.

The bags of emotions are in the unconscious {behind the house}. Your body parts. There seems to be a denial. Your sister {the childhood you} knows what is true. And you know she know what is true. But you continue to hide something.

Here you are in both forms. Woman and child. Identical experiences. The magical child is one who knows and reveals what is true. The woman has to push the child {experiences} forward to understand what is true. You know this.

I'll provide an interpretation on this last part in the other dream post.


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Re: Dream Series Ending in (dream) Suicide

Dead Sister Comes Back

There are so many levels to this one dream, again!

Yes, I am in a state of semi-denial, and that something that I know, the cold hard facts trying to poke up from just underneath the surface, are very hard to face. It’s in part related to my real-life sister who is younger than me. When the abuse happened, she was present, though only for a short time before and she doesn’t remember, as she was too small.

The “telling” sister is trying to tell me that her sister still comes to “play with the strange toys” ... so a part of me wants all this weird stuff to come out, right? The one “who died” is the playful one, the part of me who was creative, and who loved to do out-of-the-ordinary things, like climb trees and “become” them, as if I were in a trance. In this dream, there is a toy truck that is the container for all the other ‘weird’ toys.

When I was a child, I loved to get in the ditch with the boys and play with their little toy trucks, but I hid that from anyone, for fear of being accused of being a tomboy, or worse. This was my budding male side that was squelched at that time, maybe? But that’s only an incidental related thing. It’s there but I don’t feel that it’s all that important.

However, the ”the other you who is still 'telling' about the unconscious visits” is very important.

She is “telling” because her intent is to keep the memory of the “dead” little girl alive, this is important. This is directly connected to me trying to forget the abuse, or placing it on the back burner so I don’t have to think about it. And this other little girl whom I’ve dismissed when I neglect her or refuse to acknowledge that she is still important to me, in that sense I have ‘killed’ her. As I do when I refuse to honour her pain by not facing my abuser, right? She is “playing” – there is this other side to that little girl that I am ignoring.

She isn’t all tainted memories and repressed pain, she is also a little girl who loved to swing, run, watch birds, paint, talk to animals in the forest and just be full of wonder, of “play,” as little girls are.

SeedPod

The seed is, in effect, only potential life wrapped up in a tight, protective outer coating. And, when I do pick it up, look at it and wonder at its beauty and unusual size, it does puzzle me that there is only one wing... and furthermore, I actually put the seed in my pocket before returning to class. So, yes, this is something that I am, for the moment, refusing to share.

As for Gisele, this is so correct! I didn’t see this before at all. Wow!
“The other woman Gisele has made a big transformation, from childhood to the present. You identify with her because she has been able to transform a 'terrible thing' into something positive. School reunions, the past being reunited in the present.

Third Dream – true on all counts.

This scene is very graphic in my dreaming mind, as a new realisation is graphic and real. The bags all standing together, touching each other for support, like a row of soldiers ... reassuring me that I’ve done my job well, yet... there she stands, the “telling sister” again, (she is to my left, by the way) pointing out that these are, indeed, as you say, “bags of emotion...” like a body count after the war in a battlefield.

What has been the cost of keeping this secret? A very high one, if I understand my dreams right. I have been killing myself, bit by bit, body part by body part, and stuffing the pain so as not to feel.

It’s very hard to put the action behind the truth and say, ok, I’m going to do something about it. Very Hard.

Age & Gender & Location {Required}: 60, Atlantic Canada

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