I walk along a country road with a woman writer, a seven-year-old girl, and a boy who is three. The children run ahead, down a steep dip in the road, out of sight. A huge truck comes from behind me, barreling over the hill toward the spot where the children disappeared. Panicked about the children, the writer and I run to the top of the hill. I look down into a valley and see the girl sitting on the ground next to the road. Her arms circle the boy in a firm protective hug. The truck has passed. The kids get up and run toward us. We laugh and hug.
I wake up with a pounding heart. Whew! The dream kids are all right and my seven-year-old dream girl is back for a second visit. She appeared in a recent dream as my young Feminine Self born when my husband died.
I don’t have a clear image of her or the boy. I simply know I love them and must protect them. The black truck coming from behind feels like Darth Vader or Hades who drags the young Persephone into the Underworld in Greek Mythology. Dark, destructive, and unstoppable.
What happens when the fiery girl born when I was widowed goes out of sight or into the unconscious? I can’t protect her and don’t trust she can protect herself or the young boy. I expect carnage.
Since I’m walking with a writer I admire, and because of his age, the boy makes me think of my book Leaning into Love. Three years ago, my life shifted from writing for personal healing to publishing. Why is my book energy masculine? The focus and skills needed for publication and promotion demanded development of my inner masculine or animus. In Jungian psychology, we all have masculine and feminine aspects. I projected much of my focusing and manifesting power on my husband. The dream shows I’ve developed a new male energy since his death.
The truck has a crushing momentum like the inner critic I face when I lose sight of my creative feminine fire and don’t trust it will return. “I’m a lost cause. I don’t have anything more to write. Nothing good can come of this life.”
When that deflating voice takes over, my ego is flattened, hit by a truck.
Dream Elaine, walking down an unknown country lane with a writer friend, can’t save the children when the truck shows up, but the dream says my young feminine knows how to get out of the way and protect herself and the young masculine. The dream says, Trust her.
In waking life, I fret as my focus shifts from my first book to a new, still amorphous writing project. My dreams reassure me. Let my young creative self explore and experiment. She will protect any new project that arises.
Am I brave enough to take the leap and let her take me where she needs to go? Or do I fret about my writing with an anxious eye on that annihilating truck?
It’s time to make a decision.
Do you trust your inner creative self? How does she/he show herself to you? How do you encourage and respond to her? I hope you’ll enjoy reading She’s Seven Now: When Dreams Lead the Way. It’s about the first dream I had about my seven-year-old feminine muse, born when my husband died. For another popular post about dream guidance and creativity, see A Message from the Moon. I also recommend Susan Scott’s excellent article about Dreams which begins with this quote: “An unexamined dream is like an unopened letter.” The Talmud