Jeane: This first dream I don’t remember too well, but it seems like we’re somewhere really cold, and desolate, and dark. It feels like we’re driving around in circles.
Other people seem to be in charge and we’re not sure where we’re going or how we’re going to get out of there. That’s the best impression I can give.
John: You were just in a cold, desolate and dark area, and that’s all you recall?
Jeane: Yes. And that other people were in charge.
John: And you didn’t accept that?
Jeane: Well, it was just how it was.
John: Okay, those were the conditions you found yourself in, and you didn’t know how to get out of something that was cold, desolate, and dark.
Jeane: Yes, we just kept going in circles.
John: Isn’t that how it is in the outer world? It’s cold, desolate, and dark and we, the human race, just keep going in circles, repeating the same mistakes over and over again.
But we imagine it to be something different than that, and we tell ourselves that it’s different than that. In a way, we’re manufacturing concepts that make it seem other than what it really is. But we live in a strange type of purgatory in that everything that we deal with is cold, desolate, and dark – because it’s not real.
Everything in the outer world is only a partial reflection of what caused it, but that partial view is generally all we humans relate to. We relate to it by societal agreement. Anything different, anything that tries to go beyond this partial view, seems beyond our comprehension. But, is that really true? Not quite, because something inside of us seems to know that there’s something more.
Of course, even if we aren’t in touch with what that is, some part of us lies dormant waiting to be awakened and the deeper connections made. The illusion of the outer world, the world of surfaces only and no depth, is all that appears to a person who lives only in their brain and physical senses. To see and understand the deeper truth of life requires a connection to the true heart, deep within, where we all can know the difference.
Jeane: In the next image, I seem to be in an area where a lot of different people live and I have a baby. I may have some ambivalence about having a baby, so I’m given a choice about whether to keep it or not.
In order to deliberate this choice, I’ve picked up some kind of a tablet, a stone tablet, and I want to go off and kind of meditate or think this through: What am I going to do?
Well, if people see me carrying the tablet, they’re going to know that I’m making this kind of decision, so I don’t particularly want anyone to see me. I walk away from the group across an area and away from the people I know. I want to be alone.
Instead I run into a male friend and, for some reason, I decide to go with him into a room. In the room there’s another man, but it seems like this man has been assembled out of different mechanical parts.
At one point I unscrew his head to fix something and then put it back on. Then I lift his shirt and there are little things I fasten together so that all the parts hold together better.
Then I have the impression that I take him somewhere to get him another set of clothes. He’s been put together out of various parts and now I’m trying to stabilize those parts a bit, fiddling with his clothing and things around his chest or whatever.
I’m just trying to get him ready to leave the room. I think that’s when I wake up.
John: You’re actually putting a whole process together in steps. At first you’re dealing with something that’s in a void: it’s cold, desolate, and dark. Whatever is going on there, it’s just the way it is, and you don’t have an inkling of what that can possibly mean. You’re just going around in circles with no where to get to and no way to get out. You’re unawakened.
But in the second dream something has changed, i.e., something has awakened. That’s like the second step in creation, in which something rises up from a nothingness.
Tomorrow we’ll continue to look at how these two dream images portray a fundamental dichotomy in the human experience, in that we can live a connected, spiritual life, or a separated, ego-based life. But these choices are mutually exclusive.