Last night I dreamt about a woman I loved way back in the day. The last time I’d dreamt about her was more than three decades ago, maybe a year or so after she’d left me.

In that long-ago dream, I led her into an underground room lined with bricks, reminiscent of the sod hut my grandmother grew up in (here my husband interjects ‘you were always shoving things underground in your dreams back then’ and that’s true. I’ve had a lot to repress, dead selves and relationships to bury, traumas like radioactive waste to be neutralized under the earth – there was more than I could process all at once, so I stored it – indefinitely).

In that long-ago dream, I led my ex-lover underground and as I shut the door on her, it disappeared – she would never emerge from that room again. The dream made me tremendously sad – unlike her departure, which I, as always, took stoically.

I saw a Jungian analyst at the time, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I had money. She worked with me just about pro-bono. I guess I was just mangled and feral enough to be fascinating.

My analyst and I talked through that dream long ago and concluded that I was getting rid of the part of me that had loved this woman, I was putting that part of me away forever (I have an excellent track record in letting go of people, which once was necessary and is now a mixed blessing.)

So, in last night’s dream, I was in a place like a sports stadium. Lots of people milling about. This woman I’d loved and put underground was there, with her parents and her kids. My husband and son were also nearby. We were all our current ages, our current selves.

When she and I came together, we hugged, and as our bellies touched, this great surge of energy buzzed through us. It released like an electrical charge that builds up from friction and shocks you when you touch something – except this was stronger, not painful and didn’t stop. We stood there hugging for a very long time, with our bellies buzzing and vibrating pleasantly, the power coursing up through us like cartoon lightning.

It was so visceral, it seemed real. So real, I even cross-examined the experience logically: at first I thought we must both be wearing metal belts and one of them had somehow built up a charge, but then I wriggled a little and realized neither of us had a belt on. The charge was coming through the waistbands of our pants, which is where our bellies came together. The charge was just coming from she and I touching.

As I sat on the couch this morning with my legs draped across my husband’s lap, I told him my dream, which is part of our usual morning routine. We talked about what this woman meant to me back in the day, what parts of me she represented. There are more specifics than this, but what I mostly come away with is that it’s about the charge of energy that comes from reuniting with long-buried (but not dead) parts of myself.

I feel like it’s about releasing some of the separation I’ve needed to use in order to survive. Releasing a dissociation that has kept me from dying of grief many times over, and that allows me to leave toxic situations when I need to. It’s about reconnection with the Sacred Whore in myself at a deeper level. It’s about healing, and an awesome power that comes from releasing repressed stuff.

It feels good. It feels right. It feels like something I can u sustains my courage

1 Comment

  1. This is really interesting – I wonder if this is a life phase thing, or something broader.  I have a lot of the same coping strategy, of just packing things down and moving on, and I focus on what needs to be taken care of right now, in a practical sense.  I have passed through some stages where I was able to let go of some of the ropes of some of my traumas, and let them just be – not having to expend energy in a continuing fight, or in keeping them buried, but still not quite sitting next to them.  That was progress, and very helpful.  But a few years ago, I started to realize how much of a part of me they really are, and how they have shaped me, and not all in a bad way.  I had gone back to the Catholic church, because it was a religion I  knew, and at the time, was in a pretty good place.  It was the spiritual focus of that time that had helped move me that step forward.  But then, as things started shifting in the church, I started recognizing the tension between their direction, and me with all my parts.  The old me would have soldiered on, and in fact could have buried it pretty well, but that is not where I was any more.  I wrote a letter to my parish priest explaining a lot about how I came to be who I was, and why I could no longer fit there – I was his sacristan, so could not have just slipped out the door – well, the old me could have, but not now – and I moved on down to join the Episcopalians.  I don’t go out of my way to discuss my more complicated parts, but I don’t shy away from most stuff, if it comes up, and is pertinent.  It is a shifting balance, and after all these years, kind of a surprise to find myself here.  And kind of interesting, it feels like I am using more senses to experience life, if that makes any sense – being able to employ different perspectives, that I was unable to use before, when they were in the vault.

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