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Author Topic: Nightmare, again  (Read 4663 times)

maddieschmitt

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Nightmare, again
« on: April 07, 2011, 05:57:38 PM »
Tony,

This time the dream was a lot scarier to me. The worst part is that I typically do not have such scary dreams. I don't understand what has been going on. (By the way, I have looked at the nightmare link you gave me - thank you!).

In this dream, from what I can remember, I was in a car. I was in the backseat. Someone came up to me and threw something next to me that was wrapped in a very light gray/lavender tarp. And then whoever it was told me that it was this woman who is my mom's best friend. (She lives down the street from us). She was dead, and wrapped in this tarp. It was horrible and awful. But for some reason I was ordered to "get rid of" her body. I did not kill her, and nor was there blood anywhere. I was just told to make her disappear. The dream continued on with me driving around trying to find a place to put her body. As far as I can remember, I was never able to do anything with the body. I sort of looked at her body a few times, and it was not mutilated or anything. The scary part was that I knew her though, and that I have no hard feelings against this woman. She's so nice and sweet.

Any thoughts? Thank you :)

Maddie

Tony Crisp

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Re: Nightmare, again
« Reply #1 on: April 08, 2011, 11:49:32 AM »
Maddie – It seems that the theme of your nightmare is developing from the last one. The last one was that the woman was buried up to the neck, and in this one she is died.
 
If we think of how it started, the back of the car says that you are a passenger, so you are not in control of where you are going in this dream; which makes sense as you would never have chosen to have a nightmare about a dead body.
The nice and sweet woman that you know down the street is obviously a nice and sweet part of you that you are involved in the death of.

In a sense it is no good me telling you what it means because at the moment you have no awareness of the dead part of you. It is unconscious and so has to be brought to your awareness. That is why we have nightmare, to bring to light something important.

Here is a dream I had back in 2008.

Quote
I was with my mother and father and we were all involved in a house. Not one I know from waking. It was something like a semi detached and sited on a slope. I was outdoors and I think felt or knew that we had just taken over this house. But I felt uneasy as if something from the past was linked with it.

Then I was at the back of the house, on the part sloping down from the back wall of the house. I noticed things covering what turned out to be a big hole dug against the back wall, deep into the soil. This was where I felt most ill at ease about the place.

The hole had been covered with bits of board and other odd pieces of junk. I lifted these at the left of the hole and looked in. Sticking out from the side of the hole, about three feet down was the dead body of a young man. I could see the back of his skull had been smashed in. But although he had obviously been under the soil for some time, and had now been uncovered, the body was still in good condition, being slightly dried out or mummified.

I felt really guilty and connected with the body, as if I had been part of his murder, and was wondering frantically what I could do to hide or get rid of the body. Part of the problem was that pulling it out risked being seen with it.

I am going to quote at length how I brought this unconscious part of me into my awareness, hoping it will give some idea of how to do it if you wish to.

Quote
I started by being identified with the house - i.e. I imagined myself as the house and waited to see what feelings and memories arose. As such I described myself as one of those typically English suburban houses that are so like all the other houses near them. The great semidetached suburbia. And that was the type of house my parents moved into when they left London. That was my background, my social background. In being the house I realised that it represented the way people remain lost in the way everybody else lives. Going into such houses you see the same thing over and over. They have the same furniture, the same TV and armchair. This is England, and this was the environment and mental world I grew up in.

On exploring my feelings about my parents, I described and felt them as subtle background influences to my present life.  They did not actually appear in my dream, and I described them as still existing influences, particularly in the sense of their lives which did not diverge much from the norm.  By that I mean they in no way lived alternative lifestyles, not in diet, not in work, not in any way that I could see sexually. Again, here was the background I grew from. The area of their daring was in their marriage. This because the country girl who was my mother had fallen in love with a foreigner and dared to marry him – and he with her.

So in considering them and they seemed to particularly emphasise some way my own life had diverged.  This started when I was quite young, about 13 when I began to be interested in yoga.  It then became greater toward the end of my twenties when I met Graham Leonard and entered into the deeper experiences of my inner life.

The environment in which the house stood also had the feel, and deepened my sense of this suburbia as a background to what the rest of the dream was saying.

But it wasn’t until I got into the role of the dead body that any depth of feelings emerged.  Almost as soon as I was in the role of the dead body I began to think about and feel things connected with the way I had killed my sexuality as a teenager.  That because my mother had told me with extreme passion that I would die if I masturbated. Gradually these feelings deepened and I was describing my feeling of hatred in regard to sex and how the masses were pulled along by their genitals into some sort of conformity and performance.  I felt anger and loathing for what I felt at the time were the cattle human beings were.

I despised and hated them.  I also felt repugnance at the way people talked about sex or appeared to enjoy it.  It has to be understood that in that period in history in the UK, most of sex was depicted in terms of smut, dirt, animal desire, hidden pornography, or loveless sex.

I wept deeply, at times hardly able to breathe, with the pain of seeing what I had done to myself.  I said sorry over and over.  I saw that I need not have killed my love and sexuality, but could have expressed it in a tender and loving way.

So if you can enter your own inner life to find what you have done to yourself it is well worth doing. But it is useful to have a friend to do it with.

Tony