I recently solicited writing topics and now am digging in. Up first, suggested by Mary M…..
Recurring dream themes and what you think they mean.
About 10 years ago, I had the honor of participating in an employee review of my therapist. We’d been meeting for a few months, talking about PTSD and stuff. She was the classic “Well, Ms. Therapist, I’ve been having this problem” and she’s all like “So, what do you think that means?” You know. Question with a question and she never actually answers anything. Her kindly face could have been a trope.
One session, she sideswiped me by initiating a question.
A real question. With consequences. To her. Not to me. She informed me that the following week was her annual review. That meant a boss therapist had to sit in on one of her junior therapist sessions to see if she was therapying right. And, would it be okay if it happened during my next session. Since people-pleasing was one of my coping mechanisms, I enthusiastically agreed. She may have known this and stacked her deck. Then I walked home wondering if I’d known she was a junior therapist.
Fast forward to next week. It’s a couples session where the therapy is still about me but my husband is forced to be there since he’s witness to night terrors. Handily, that’s today’s topic. I launch.
During the week, I’d had a recurring dream.
It’s the same one I’ve had most of my life. I call it The House Dream. It’s notable 1. because it’s of note. And 2. because it manifested as 2 or 3 different houses and situations that week – which is actually not unusual. The house will alter configuration and atmosphere. Sometimes, I’m outside walking through the neighborhood and bam! There it is and I’m trying to break in. I could be walking with someone else and trying to explain something arcane and unbelievable about the house. Sometimes, I’m inside the house and it’s a gothic maze, crammed full of dark furniture and it has 3 kitchens and you absolutely never ever ever ever want to go upstairs to the long long long hall with bedrooms along both sides. Demons, you know. But, of course I do.
I’m dreamily trying to describe all this to my oddly extra attentive and uber caring junior therapist. She’s considerately not interrupting with leading questions, insights or helpful hints for navigating my convoluted subconscious effluvium. She’s practically about to reach out to pat my hand and offer tissue when the boss therapist leans toward me and asks, “What is the house?”
Pause.
Beat.
“Me.”
Boss therapist askances at junior therapist without an audible sigh but it’s there nonetheless. It’s in his eyes. It suspect it was worth at least one demerit.
For me, it was an awe-inspiring, aha-moment breakthrough.
So, my House Dream is me. Everything I see, experience and feel. All are aspects of myself and my situation du jour. Formerly obvious to everyone but me. And perhaps my junior therapist.
I’m Susan Scot Fry, the author of “A Year of Significance”. In 2020, I take on the greatest nemesis of my life: Binge Eating Disorder. With a side of aplomb sauce. Honest, occasionally humorous and sometimes I swear.
A Year of Significance 