Amusings

May 15, 2025

I have no theory about dreams.  I do not know how dreams arise.  And I am not at all sure that my way of handling dreams even deserves the name of a method. I share all your prejudices against dream interpretation as the quintessence of uncertainty and arbitrariness.  

On the other hand, I know that if we meditate on a dream sufficiently long and thoroughly… If we carry it around with us…  And turn it over and over… Something always comes of it.  This “something” is not a scientific result to be boasted about or rationalized, but it is an important practical hint which shows what the unconscious is aiming at.  —Carl Jung

I’ve always loved this quote by Carl Jung… I’ve also always had a healthy skepticism for anyone or anything that claims to be a definitive source on dreams or dream interpretation.

I found this quote while researching and writing a term paper for a class during undergrad.  The class was named Imaginary Psychology…  It was at a university in England…  And the title of the paper was Carl Jung As A Shaman.

That quote followed me into grad school… And into my work.  I have never let that quote go… It has followed me ever since… And, now, many years later… I think I understand why it has always been important to me.

The class would have been better aptly be named [the] Psychology of Imagination…  It had all of the loosey-goosiness of a weekend self-discovery retreat… And all of the freedom of a graduate level course.

There was no course like this at my home university.  I was a psychology major in undergrad… For all of the right reasons… It was one of the few majors that didn’t require two years of a foreign language.  Although, in retrospect and still today, I wish I had a better handle on the Spanish language.

The class was taught by a British female professor in her 50’s… Who had a slightly theatrical and whimsical demeanor…  That would translate well to an audiobook of fairytales.  Several times we spent half the class in guided meditation… And the other half discussing our experiences.  It was like group therapy with the added benefit of college credit.  To this day, I have never been deeper in guided meditation than I was at times during that class.  And I loved it.

The topic of the paper came from the professor herself.  Several weeks before the paper was due, I was at a loss as to what to write.  When we talked during her office hours, she asked what topics most interested me from class.  I said two things: Carl Jung and dreams.  

“How about Carl Jung as a shaman?” she asked.  And that was it.

I barely knew what a shaman was… A medicine man… A witchdoctor… Someone who would dance around you in the firelight… Chant some unintelligible utterings… Probably shake some feathers or a rattle… And you were magically fixed.

I had a healthy dose of skepticism…  And then I started doing some research… And things got more interesting… I wasn’t the only one who had researched the idea… And, as I discovered, Carl Jung himself placed value in shamanism.

I have re-read the paper since then… And it’s terrible.  Somehow, I received a 71% on it…  Which doesn’t sound very impressive… But on the English grading scale, that is a very high grade.  

Randomly throughout the years since that time, personal curiosity has led to more self-directed research on Carl Jung, shamanism, ancient stories and myths, religions, and entheogenic drugs.  The Eleusinian Mysteries, Acacia and The Burning Bush, Alan Watts, Toltec philosophy, Peyote, Buddhism, The Gnostics and the Nag Hammadi library, Terence McKenna… 

Let’s switch gears, shall we?

I recently ended a nine month relationship.  And the ending was difficult… For both of us… But not for many of the reasons you might think.  

It was a professional relationship… A platonic relationship… For a project that both of us knew would have an end date.  And, due to circumstances beyond our control, we could not continue the relationship on a personal level after the conclusion of that project.  

During the time we worked together, I developed very deep feelings for her that I only slightly expressed… But I had a nagging hunch that she might be harboring similar feelings for me.

I somewhat abruptly announced to her in an email that the project was ending…  And our upcoming meeting would be the last.  I didn’t know what to expect at that final meeting… But what did happen wasn’t anything I expected.

The meeting I walked into had all of the ambiance of a funeral…  The normally friendly banter between us was gone…  And replaced by a sense of heaviness in the air.  

Suddenly, in the middle of a discussion about the final aspects of the project… And with all of the expressionistic melodrama of a 1920’s black and white silent film… She burst out that she would miss my diversity and worldview.  I reacted, echoing my own feelings… “Well, who would have ever thought that I would meet someone like you?!?”

After both of our brief outbursts, we tried to continue the meeting… But both of us knew that it was just putting lipstick on an 800lb gorilla.  All of the details of the project were finalized.  And I nudged the meeting toward a conclusion.  

Then we parted like strangers.

Three months later… I sent an email to her… That, in no uncertain terms, laid out my feelings for her.  I didn’t have high hopes for a positive response… And, in reading her email reply, my disappoint was finally and concretely realized.

But… What I really want to talk about… Is that three month window.

Three months.  Ninety days.  2,160 hours.  

I’ve never been to rehab for heroin… But I have more than a slight fascination for books and movies that portray a relationship with it accurately.  And that’s what comes to mind when I think back on those three months… A hellishly introspective and nauseating expedition… That resembled Dante’s travels through the underworld in The Divine Comedy.

What made this journey different though… Is that it was missing many of elements present at the conclusion of other relationships I have had.  There was no anger or mistrust… The realization of inherent personality differences… Or regrets for ever having the relationship.  

Instead… I was just left with me.

And I was out of heroin to mask the pain.

I dove headlong into myself… My thoughts, motivations, and personality… What deep and ancient chasm in me felt bridged by her?  How had this experience changed the way I view the world, people, and relationships?  What part of my psyche was so attracted to her?  What were her motivations?  What strange-shaped piece did she see in me that completed the puzzle in her soul?  There were no unimportant previous conversations… No email that was too insignificant.    

It was an outstanding and demanding exercise in self-reflection.  And I think I needed it.

I know that if we meditate on a dream sufficiently long and thoroughly… If we carry it around with us…  And turn it over and over… Something always comes of it. 

If you read Carl Jung’s quote literally, he was talking about dreams.  And for a long time, that’s the way I understood it.  But now… I think I realize… That we all have dreams… And many of them occur during waking hours.  And if we seek to understand them, we may end up with a better understanding of ourselves.

Row, row, row your boat… Gently down the stream…
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily… Life is but a dream.