photo courtesy of alamy.com
What do animals mean when they are featured in dreams?
For some animals, our associations remain reasonably
consistent from dreamer to dreamer. For example, dogs are considered guards of
the physical environment—“guardians of the four corners” as it is sometimes
stated. Cats are often viewed as protectors of the psychic realms. In cultures
like ancient Egypt, they were revered for their telepathic powers. Elephants
are associated with memory; fish with negotiating the subconscious; birds with
soaring into the heights.
Naturally, in all of these cases, it is still important to
superimpose the dreamer’s own attitudes onto the above generalities. For every
group of people that loves dogs, for example, there will be someone who is
deathly afraid of them or repulsed by them. All of this enters into the process
of understanding the dream metaphor; each case is specific to the dreamer.
But what if you dream about a hamster? Or a sea anemone? Or
an iguana? Clearly, it is now essential to rely exclusively on the dreamer’s
own metaphoric associations. By doing so, it actually improves the chances of
understanding the symbol correctly. Whenever there is a preconceived idea of
what a symbol means, there is the danger of superimposing a concept that comes
from somewhere outside of the dreamer’s own consciousness. I am reminded of the
dream I featured a few weeks ago involving a raccoon. The dreamer had never had
any experience with raccoons, and when she was asked to “Tell me about
raccoons,” her replies had little to do with reality. She described them as
being soft, sweet and cuddly. Anyone who has had experiences with raccoons will
understand the fallacy of that concept. But the dreamer’s replies were correct
because they came straight from her own perceptions. That must always be the
case when interpreting dreams.
This week’s dream involves an animal that could represent
any number of metaphors. It will be interesting to learn what metaphoric
association the dreamer, herself, has.
A dream about a
rabbit
In my dream, it’s
daylight, but I’m still in my pajamas. The PJs are flannel, and they have a
blue and white pattern. Actually, all I see is one of my legs, so that’s the
part of the pajamas I see, too. I know that I’m barefoot, but all I can see is
my pajama leg. I’m outside on some kind of porch or deck and the weather is
balmy—one of those perfect summer days—not too hot and just lovely—lazy and
lovely. I’m lounging around with no pressures. Then I look, and there is a
rabbit—mostly grey and fairly large. It seems unafraid of me. It is sitting
right near my leg and it is scratching itself. There are really rapid motions
with its back foot right behind its ear. I don’t pay much attention to it. But
then I feel something strange. I look down, and now it is using the same paw to
scratch me, and it is doing so aggressively. In fact, it has already ripped a
hole in my pajamas, has scratched its way through my skin, and now my leg is
bleeding. That’s when I wake up.
More on Wednesday.
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