The patient is in his mid-forties and has worked with me a long time. He was outstanding in film school and after graduation directed a film which became a hit. Then came a second assignment, which was a failure. This failure lasted a long time. He could be one person wrecked by early success. He turned to drinking and marihuana and was immersed in these "cures" for a long time.

He began therapy with me and it took a considerable while to get him back on the bottom rungs of success.

His mother was a writer, not well known, and his father could be called an iconoclast, a man who saw through the deceit of all authority based institutions and, though holding a high position in one of California's colleges, he abandoned his teaching career to go his own way.

The patient lived like a hippie for a while, since his parents adopted that life style. It was clear to people he was extremely intelligent and, since he was large for his age, came to adult life early as large boys usually do. He has one sister, younger, who he took care of since he felt his parents were remiss in this task. Today they do not speak to each other frequently.

The patient is married and has two children. His wife is an artist, a woman of great intuition and practicality. She has many problems of her own but she has always stood by the patient through his brief ups and long downs.

For some time it has been, in the main, "up". He has directed several successful TV shows but has never written and sold one himself.

When this issue came up several years ago his dreams were of great calamity and fears of being killed. He felt it was unimaginable that he could write a show. For several years the idea of achieving this was backed away from. And as time went on he signed to do shows as the road of lesser and safer effort. His achievement would not threaten him. Little by little as his level of fear diminished he thought more seriously about it and tried to do so with a fellow actor. That effort did not get off the ground. But it did provide a platform for his finally being able to write the script that his agent acceptable though it needed more work. We are at that point currently.

The reader might ask what happened and I would say that continued analysis of the dread of crossing his imprint diminished as we could analyze these fears of an infantile nature, even of a futile one, that he was not to equal or surpass his mother. He and his mother never had a comfortable relationship but, again as the years passed and with analysis, he became more understanding of her life with his father and more compassionate. Their relationship is currently a lot friendlier. His wife's relationship with his mother is equally friendly. They trust her completely with the children. This is the point when he brings these dreams to the session.

DREAM #1

The dream takes place in a hospital room. I am lying in a hospital bed - intubated and pale. I am in a coma. My face and my body do not look the way they do in real life. I have a very handsome and chiseled face. My body is muscular and strong. My looks are handsome but somewhat cheesy, like a soap opera star.

My wife, sits over me. What is unusual about this dream is that, in the dream, I am the man in the coma, but I am also my wife. I have never dreamed of being her before. As my wife, I sit at the foot of the bed, worried about myself. I hold in my hand a bottle of medicine. It is un-labeled, I do not know if it is the right medicine to cure the “me” in the coma, or what dose to administer.

I realize, presently, that I must use my intuition to determine exactly what to do. I intuitively believe that it is the right medicine and that the right dose is three spoonfuls. I pour three spoons and administer them to the “me” in the coma.

Once the dose is given, I stand and walk away from the "me" in the coma. As my wife , I go out into the hall. There is a flurry of chaotic activity in the hall, doctors and nurses rushing patients pell-mell up and down the hall. I know I must now wait – wait for the cure to take. I pull out my blackberry and scroll through the names in my directory. Still using my intuition, I know that one of these names will help me.

INTERPRETATION

Doctor Bail asks me to associate. First I muse about the “me” in the hospital bed. It reminds me of the state my creative life. Others may look at my creative life and career. To many it may look very good – like the man, handsome and strong. But I know that there is an aspect of the work I have been doing that is “cheesy” – like a soap opera star. In reality, I am in a coma creatively.

It is interesting that I dream of myself as my wife . I have never done that before. Historically, whenever I dream of blonde women, Dr. Bail associates them with my feminine unconscious – with my creativity.

Dr. Bail prompts me, “So why would your feminine creative aspect appear as my wife , why now?”

I reflect on the fact that (a) my wife really loves me and believes in me. She’s always believed I could do more and go further with my work. And that (b), lately, my wife has been really accessing her unconscious in her art. She has been growing tremendously.

Dr. Bail intercedes, “So, perhaps, the medicine she wants to give you is a little of that inspiration.”

“Yes,” I answer. “And, she/I come to realize that we must use our intuition to trust how to use it. But,” I ask, “Why three spoonfuls? What does that symbolize?”

Dr. Bail asks me “What do you know about the number three?”

I reply, “From you I know that three, in the tarot, is The Empress.”

“Three is abundance,” Dr. Bail answers.

“Right,” I say “And the feminine, and creativity. The Empress is pregnant, symbolizing new life – new ideas.”

Dr. Bail asks, “And what about when you go in the hall?”

I answer, “To me it’s a period of time I have to wait for the cure to “take” For inspiration to take hold. The hall is like the world, it is chaotic, full of doctors and nurses and patients – all the people in the world rushing around trying to get better but not knowing how.”

“When I take out my blackberry it reminds me of how I usually have to have my sessions with you. Because of my work schedule, I end up having to call in my sessions more often than I can come in. I think the end of the dream is saying that, in the chaos of the everyday world, I intuitively know that calling you will bring me aid.”

DREAM #2:

I am staying in a large house. The house is huge and noble with many, many rooms. The room I am in is simple, but I like it. The door bursts open and two people enter. They are an elderly haggish woman and a skinny old man. They strike me immediately as being perverse. The woman wears black latex, like a dominatrix. The man wears red women’s lingerie, high heels and a boa. They are cackling happily, very pleased with themselves.

“Look what we’ve got!” the woman says.

I see that they’ve dragged into the room, a skinny prostitute. She is a young teenager. She is covered in bruises and half-conscious. Her blonde hair looks like it’s been chopped off with a knife.

“You can do anything you want to her.” The man encourages. I realize they’re plotting. They are going to rape and abuse the girl, and when they’re done they are going to murder her and leave her here in the room. Their plan is that the master of the house will be framed for the girl’s murder.

I confess that, for a moment, I am tempted by their plan to rape and abuse the girl. It excites me. But, then I come to my senses and am appalled by how wrong it is. It is deeply wrong to kill this girl.

The Master of the House, the man who owns this great mansion, has always been good to me. I have never met him, but he has given me many kindnesses and moneys over the years. I think it is wrong of them to frame him for murder of this innocent girl.

And so, I rush to them, push them aside. I grab the girl and run from the room. They scream protests as I go.

I run out into the street carrying the girl. It is cold and snowy outside and I notice how frail and thin the girl is. She may not survive. I see a hospital up ahead and know I have to take her there. I run into the emergency room. I have an instinct to dump the poor girl and run in order to protect my anonymity… But then I realize I cannot. I have to check the girl in properly, and report what has happened and take responsibility for my actions. I must protect the Master of the House.

INTERPRETATION

I tell Dr. Bail that I found this dream particularly disturbing. But also that I was sure it was a successor of the dream from two night’s before - the one where I was in a coma. I strongly felt that it was about my desire to grow and expand creatively, but I was not sure how.

“Who do the man and woman remind you of?” He asks me.

“I don’t know,” I respond. “My first instinct is to say, my parents” But my parents were not sexually perverse people, nor do they look like these two. But still it is my instinct to say that.”

“And the young girl?”

“In many of my dreams, young blonde women appear. You always associate them to my creative feminine. Here that feels accurate again. But it is so disturbing. She is a young, abused, hooker. So skinny that her ribs show. She so mistreated she is near death. I would hate to say that that is the state of my creative feminine side.”

“But I think your associations are correct,” Dr. Bail says. “I think this is a wonderful dream. I think this dream is giving us a clear picture of your imprint.”

“You mean, my parental imprint wants to abuse and murder my creative feminine side?”

“Yes, and demean it as well. If, as we’ve been discussing, you wish to grow in your work, then you must turn to this side. But how can you turn to it if it is so abused and weak and in such a shameful state?”

“Right. In the dream, I have to protect it. It isn’t in any position to help me.”

“And what about the hospital? Where is that?”

“I don’t know. I know it’s in Los Angeles, but it’s not Cedars Sinai, where I’ve been recently. I’m not sure. I think it’s in Beverly Hills”

“The hospital is here,” Dr. Bail says. “It is this building. This room. Your unconscious is telling you to bring your creative feminine here to be healed.”

“Yes, I agree with that.” I reply “And that I can’t hide from the personal responsibility of this. I must stay and sign in and face the consequences.”

“One last question. Who do you believe is the Master of the House - the one the old couple wants to frame for the murder?”

I am perplexed. “I don’t know. He is very mysterious. No one ever sees him. But he has always been very kind and generous to me. I know it would be very wrong to frame him for the murder of this poor girl.”

“I believe,” Dr. Bail says, “That the Master of The House is God. You say that his house has many rooms and that is what it says in the Bible. I think this is the state of the world today, and that your dream is telling us this quite clearly. The world wants to murder the feminine and frame God for it. You are beginning realize that you cannot let this happen, and that is very good.”

COMMENTARY

These dreams and his associations, as well as my interpretations, were written by the patient. It is clear that he writes well, tells a story well and this narrative holds the interest of the reader.

What is further striking is how economically the issues are stated, boldly. His unconscious is in a coma and needs help. In the dream the medicine is a liquid medicine requiring three teaspoons. In reality the medicine is my interpretation and if one can see this it is only a step away to accept that correct interpretations are spiritual and give one the sense of faith. The number three usually symbolizes the Holy Trinity.

He has identified the chaos in the corridor as the chaos in the world which does not understand what is happening and instead of getting treatment that is correct interpretations they are abandoned to be in this chaotic state which breeds fear and paralysis.

The dream also attests to his work, which has made him a good living. However, he is ashamed of it. It is "cheesy".

The second dream is obviously in sequence and further develops the scene of the individual unconscious as well as the mass unconscious. One can easily conjure up this young girl bruised, assaulted, raped with no one caring. And he has it that his parents, dressed bizarrely, tell him to further abuse her. However, his higher self intervenes and realizes he has to take her to the emergency room and sign his name to his entry there.

He directly calls on God as the master that has been good to him and the master he cannot pin anything bad upon. It is not any wonder that with these changes in his unconscious he is able to write a TV screenplay that is good enough to win the approval of his agent, though it may need work. He has dared to break the imprint his mother and father gave him at a time before his birth and after.

***************************

I would like to ask the reader to keep in mind the teenage girl in this patient's dream - bruised, half conscious, blond hair looking as if it was chopped off with a knife - a prostitute though a teenager. This is the patient's feminine unconscious and it is also the worlds’.

It is my thesis that pictures like this can come to light in an analysis and they have in the dreams of other patients of mine. I believe these dreams, remembered or not, inhabit the minds of great numbers of people, perhaps everyone. When they live in the minds of greatly creative people, these people may paint those images or write songs about them.

I am particularly struck by the songs of Bruce Springsteen that echo the thoughts and feelings stated above. (See Footnote)

BORN TO RUN by Bruce Springsteen

In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines
Sprung from cages out on highway 9,
Chrome wheeled, fuel injected
and steppin' out over the line
Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run

Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims
and strap your hands across my engines
Together we could break this trap
We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back
Will you walk with me out on the wire
'Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta find out how it feels
I want to know if love is wild
girl I want to know if love is real

Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight
In an everlasting kiss

The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive
Everybody's out on the run tonight
but there's no place left to hide
Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Someday girl I don't know when
we're gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
and we'll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us
baby we were born to run

MY CITY OF RUINS by Bruce Springsteen

There's a blood red circle
On the cold dark ground
And the rain is falling down
The church door's thrown open
I can hear the organ's song
But the congregation's gone
My city of ruins
My city of ruins

Now the sweet bells of mercy
Drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner
Like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows
The empty streets
While my brother's down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins

Come on rise up! Come on rise up!
Come on rise up! Come on rise up!
Come on rise up! Come on rise up!
Come on rise up! Come on rise up!

Now there's tears on the pillow
Darlin' where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Tell me how do I begin again?
My city's in ruins
My city's in ruins

Now with these hands
With these hands
With these hands
With these hands
I pray Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for the strength, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for the faith, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for your love, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for the strength, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for your love, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for the faith, Lord
With these hands
With these hands
I pray for the strength, Lord

Come on, rise up!
Come on, rise up!

THE RISING by Bruce Springsteen

Can't see nothin' in front of me
Can't see nothin' coming up behind
I make my way through this darkness
I can't feel nothing but this chain that binds me
Lost track of how far I've gone
How far I've gone, how high I've climbed
On my back's a sixty pound stone
On my shoulder a half mile of line

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

Left the house this morning
Bells ringing filled the air
Wearin' the cross of my calling
On wheels of fire I come rollin' down here

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li

There's spirits above and behind me
Faces gone black, eyes burnin' bright
May their precious blood bind me
Lord, as I stand before your fiery light

Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li

I see you Mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
There's holy pictures of our children
Dancin' in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin' on the end of my line

Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)
Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life

Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight

It is the moment and the exhilaration of revolution. These lines might well be the songs of rebellion. After all what does it mean when he writes "Come on, come on up for the rising"? What does that really mean?

It is clear to me that these feelings are everywhere in the world, that the evolution of consciousness is advancing even as the old regimes of war and more war are on the rise. At a certain point these will be still. There will be no time for killing and maiming and torture and raping. No time for any more wars.

Even Bruce Springsteen, blue collar son, prays.

Footnote: It cannot be by chance that these songs were played at the Kennedy Center Awards at which Bruce Springsteen was honored and which was attended by President Obama and his wife. It seems to me that they conveyed a message and the lyrics of the songs say what that message is.

January 2010