New Territory: Part 1

For whatever reason, I have not shared many of my dreams on here, even when they seem somewhat significant. I've always been of the belief that dreams were random pons firing in your brain when you're asleep, and sometimes related to whatever was on your mind before you went to sleep. Now that I've gotten more in touch my subconscious, I no longer believe that. I don't think you can necessarily take dreams at face value. For example, if you dreamed you were kissing your ex, it doesn't necessarily mean you want to leave your husband and have sex with your ex-boyfriend. However, if you spent some time really getting to know yourself and understand a little bit about the psyche, you may be better able to understand some of these dreams.

A rotunda... similar, although much smaller in my dream.

I bring this up because I have had 3 dreams recently that were particularly interesting to me. In the first dream, I saw a young woman who had hung herself. She was hanging from a rotunda type area in a building which looked like an area where I work. She was wearing a long white dress, very old-fashioned looking. I started to climb the rungs on the wall to the right of her. I got several feet off the ground when I was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. I looked up and over my shoulder at the woman. I sensed that if I went any further, I would be in danger. I hesitated, wanting to climb further, but instead I climbed back down.

When I told this dream to Simone, she explained that sometimes the psyche takes on a protective role when an individual experiences some kind of trauma. My "actual self" had to be cut off in a sense so that she would not be harmed by the horrors of my reality. Now that I am no longer in danger, I no longer need that level of protection. But my psyche doesn't know that. So it sends me these images and roadblocks to interfere with progress, from getting too close to that area of my self that was protected. This is where many people get "stuck" in therapy and quit. 

There are several things that could be going on here for me. Although this dream came about right before I started to explore my sensuality and sexuality more, I can't help but feel there is a connection. When I was being abused, I had to completely shut down that side of myself. When I was being forced to masturbate on command, I couldn't allow myself to feel any pleasure at all. I couldn't allow my body to betray me in that way. And so I turned it to stone whenever he was near. After a few years of that, it can be difficult to completely rewire. I'm thrilled to say that I am able to orgasm so I don't think it's as bad as it could be. But I know it can be better. And my psyche may realize that I have this desire to finally let go, to finally feel everything. It may be in full alarm mode, warning me to go back before I do feel!

The second dream I had was about my biological father. My mother gave me 2 photos, one was my bio-dad, and the other I sensed was my brother (one I had never known about). The photo of bio-dad was in black and white. The man in it looked like he may have been a pilot, perhaps in the air force. I got that sense that it was from around WWII. I realize this makes no sense whatsoever, but that's the way it was. I couldn't really see the photo of my brother, I just knew that was what it was. When my mom gave me the photos, she also warned me not to seek out bio-dad because he's a member of the clergy now. Of course I was going to ignore her advice, and so I booked a flight to Florida, which is where he was living at the time. The next morning (in the dream), I woke up to a text message from my mom. She said to not oversleep because my flight was at 7:05am. I knew I had plenty of time so I got up and started getting things ready to go. Suddenly I realized it was 7:33am. I had missed my flight completely. I was devastated. Then I realized that the house I was in was on fire. I began to search for a way out and saw firemen and others outside the second floor window.

It's no secret that I want to find my biological father so it has been on my mind lately. I keep thinking I want to call the courthouse and request my adoption records, hoping for a clue. But I always "forget" until it's too late in the day to make the call. I feel like something is holding me back, although I'm not sure what. Perhaps this "forgetting" is similar to sleeping in in the dream. I had sabotaged my chance at meeting him. I don't know. It kind of makes sense though. As for the house being on fire, a house can sometimes represent your conscious. I'm still thinking about that one...

There is more to this whole story, but I think this is enough for one post. In the meanwhile, I would love to hear your opinions and dreams and their meanings! Have you ever had a dream that you felt was significant in some way?

Rachel

Fresh Air

Even though my dad had been "squished" in one of my last adventures in inner work, there is still work left to be done. So this week I returned.

I called upon the "younger me's" as I had before. This time I was only able to meet with two of them, the 17 year old and the 12 year old. In the past, the 17 year old had been very angry. This time it seemed like she was actually able to take a deep breath and allow herself to breathe. The three of us turned and started to walk towards the cellar doors when something unusual happened.

11 or 12 years old. Check out the wallpaper! Yikes!

There is a picture of myself around 12 years old, standing in my parents' bedroom in a blue and white striped shirt. Whenever I picture myself at that age, I see that picture. As we were walking, she and I were suddenly in that room. The strange thing is, I'm not sure if I was her, or if I was behind her, watching. It's very complicated because in my mind's eye, I tend to have an "over-the-shoulder" view of things. In memories, dreams, etc., I am watching myself. That's why it was hard to tell what was going on here. 

Anyway, I watched her walk out of the room and then saw my dad standing on the landing to the stairs on the left. He was masturbating into a kitchen pot. To make things more complicated, I was aware that my other 12 year-old self was sitting downstairs in the living room, where he was directly in her line of vision. The self that I was with upstairs then stepped forward and popped him with a pin. He deflated faster than the wicked witch of the west.

After this little detour, we were all standing at the top of the cellar doors. We walked down and through the massive door, which is now always open. The first thing I noticed is that there was at least 6 inches of water on the floor. It was sloshing gently, the door that had been keeping my dad locked up swaying back and forth with the movement of the water. I walked over to it and looked inside. The sun was shining in through a window, illuminating the empty room and the air smelled incredibly fresh and clean, which he never did. It was as if though he had never been there. 

I turned around and saw another door open. It was to a room I had explored in the past, and it all looked the same. The door directly to my right was closed, but it had a window. I looked in and saw my mom, lying on a cot. She wasn't asleep, but seemed to be staring off into the distance, seemingly very depressed. I left that alone, and turned the corner at the end of the hallway. I went down a few stairs yet another hallway. I entered the very first door and discovered a room full of furs! They were incredibly soft and reminded me of Char. I can only imagine that this is related to my exploration in sensuality and that the other rooms in that hall would be filled with a variety of other things directly related to specific senses.

After I felt content that I had explored enough for one visit, we all came back to my happy place.

There was a lot going on here for one session! I've never done any kind of inner work within my inner work. That was totally unexpected, and not really "guided" by me or Simone. It just came out of nowhere. Also, I couldn't help but notice that I didn't care if my dad showed up or not. I really didn't feel threatened by his presence at all. That being said, as I was writing this, it occurred to me that maybe he was gone because he was out of his REAL prison cell. I knew this was illogical, but I looked up his prison profile page anyway, just for good measure. When I saw his picture, I felt my tummy flip over. I instantly recognized the look on his face and knew that he was angry and annoyed when the picture was taken. I felt uncomfortable, but ok.

I'm always fascinated by the inner work aspect of therapy. It's amazing to me that all of this is inside my mind. But I couldn't just sit down at my computer and make it up on the spot. It really is an experience that takes place with my eyes closed. If I would have read any of this a year ago, I wouldn't believe it was written by me!!

Rachel

Sensuality

Before I really get into things here, I think it is important to define what I mean when I talk about being "sensual". When you first hear the word, what do you think of? Is it sex? It usually is for me. And although it's not entirely unrelated, I'm talking about a more thorough exploration of the senses in general, which, in theory, should make sex more fulfilling as well. I tried to look up some definitions, and they some of them made it seem hedonistic and bad. That's not what this is about.

As someone recovering from PTSD, I can tell you I often go through the day not feeling much of the physical world. I don't notice how my clothes feel on my skin. I don't smell the air when there is nothing noticeable or overwhelming there. I don't see all the beautiful colors in the world around me. I spend more time focusing on what is in my head. I think about my fears and insecurities. I think about my blog. I think about my relationships. I spend so much time thinking that I forget to feel. 

A couple weeks ago, I decided this was something that I could work on now. Since then, I've talked to my therapist about it. I told her that I feel like there is some kind of "block" regarding my sexuality and sensuality. When she asked me to describe it, I struggled, but eventually I was reminded of my Tai Chi class at Concordia. The instructor, Sang, taught us about "chi", and energy that is flowing through all of us that sometimes does become blocked. He taught us how to actually feel this energy force between our hands. He was able to tell me when my chi was blocked, and went it began to flow I again, I could physically feel the change, sometimes even becoming lightheaded from the sudden rush. Sharing this with Simone, my therapist, led to a discussion about chakras, which are centers of energy in the body. 

Since then, I have been meeting with my inner self nightly, asking her to heal the chakras that require it. The first week, I didn't notice any kind of change at all, which could be partly due to the fact that I was so distracted by my flirtations with Studdly Hubby. But this past week has been different. For the last four days, I have spent as much free time as possible out on my balcony.

Since discovering my "happy place", I have felt more in touch with nature than I ever have before in my life. When I was sitting outside, the sun was shining, and there was a delicious summer breeze. I watched the large tree in front of me. The leaves fluttered, the branches swayed, giving to the wind so that they didn't break off. When the wind was stronger, the top part of the tree trunk swayed as well, but the base removed strong. It seemed like a beautiful metaphor for the human spirit. 

A quiet evening at home. Me, Carl Jung and
one of my cats, Char.

I basked in the feel of the sun on my skin. I sipped from my glass of wine, enjoying the flavor. I ate from a vegetable tray, tasting the array of flavors and textures. I loved the creamy ranch dip combined with the snap of the snap peas. I popped the cherry tomatoes in my mouth, letting it burst, juice exploding. Mmm...I'm able to taste it all again just thinking about it!

Since then, I keep going outside again. It seems to be the best place for me to begin exploring my senses. It is a happy place in the real, physical world. I'm a little embarrassed to say that I actually turned down a social invitation from a friend in favor of spending the evening on my balcony. 

Today, I savored every bite from a fruit tray. I paid attention to the amount of pressure necessary to lick the juices from my fingers, to lick the cream cheese vanilla dip off. I'm fascinated by the new world that's been opened up to me, but at the same time, was there all along.

But now I'm curious. How do others experience life? Do you pay attention to your senses at this level? Are you often too wrapped up in the day-to-day busyness of life to notice anything else? I want to know!

Rachel