Issue 57, May 2003
Swim Detective
©Jane Teresa Anderson, May 2003
Things, in dreams, are never what they seem.
Take my swimming dream, for example. There I was, swimming length after length, a superb athlete at great ease. The breathing was easy and I could feel zero resistance from the water. Close by, Paul was sitting with his little daughter, watching me. It was at this point that I realised why there was no water resistance: there was no water. I was swimming up and down the carpet in a lounge room.
In waking life I'm no great swimmer. I'm pretty fit and would have no problem running length after length of carpet, but swimming up and down - even in a pool - is just not me. Too boring. When you're swimming lengths you can't see much. I like the water but in an English kind of way: I don't put my head under but I play and enjoy stretching and moving my body in ways impossible on land. So why would I be such a great swimmer in my dream?
The Swim Detective raised an academic eyebrow.
"Water, in dreams, often symbolises emotions. In particular, your emotions and feelings. In your dream the water was missing. No water, no emotion. Swimming length after length without emotion."
When I woke from this dream I laughed as I saw the emotion-less swimming as 'going through the motions'. Motion without emotion, swimming without water. I was going through the motions of swimming - and performing wonderfully - but without emotion.
Okay, so sometimes maybe that's good. There was no water resistance to my progress, no emotions of fear, no feelings of doubt or any other watery hesitations to impede my achievements. But neither was there joy, play or any of the other fun feelings I get from being in the water without doing the swimming slog thing.
So, what did my dream mean? Since dreams are never what they seem, I knew it wasn't about swimming and I guessed it wasn't about pioneering a new fitness fad, 'carpet swimming'. (One more repetition and feel that carpet-burn!)
A small dream such as this can reveal a lot. One easy approach is to look for opposites. If you can't see opposites in your dream, write a paragraph or so on the subject (in this case, swimming) and you're very likely to identify them. My paragraph about swimming revealed these opposites: Boring versus playing for fun; not seeing and seeing (keeping head above water); restricted motions (swimming style) versus moving my body in ways impossible on land.
"Hmmmm," thought the Swim Detective, tapping her pencil on her notebook. "This all fits in with going through the motions. Boring without joy, on automatic without needing to see and performing in a restricted way without full expression. No wonder the swim was easy. This girl needs a challenge."
When you interpret a dream, take a moment to focus on the oddity. Okay, so dreams have many oddities, but some are more odd than others. The oddity here was swimming without water but the real oddity was the carpet. Why swimming on carpet?
Those of you who live in cold countries will not think carpets odd, but here in Queensland, Australia, many people choose polished floors, tiles or stone. Personally I really don't like carpets. They gather dust, they get dirty, they're - well, they're boring! You also have to vacuum them because they show the dust and that is very boring too. So, for me, my oddity symbol, the carpet, reinforced the rest of the dream: boring. Gathering dust? Well, that's what you do when you go through restricted motions without flexing, stretching and shaking those cobwebs from the mind and body from time to time.
Things were beginning to add up, but I couldn't relate this nice, tidy, logical dream interpretation to my waking life. Where exactly was I going through the motions in a boring kind of way, possibly gathering dust through not extending myself, and yet achieving extremely well? My life, for me, is alive, exciting, challenging, extending and certainly one lived with feeling and plenty of love.
The Swim Detective frowned at me over the top of her glasses. "A clue. What about Paul and his daughter then?" she queried, already knowing the answer. She snapped her notebook shut - case closed.
Paul (not his real name) is someone who disciplines his little daughter rather than playing with her. When they do play, the games are designed to teach not to have fun, fire up the spirit or bond. They play without passion and miss the opportunity to inspire and be inspired by love. The little girl misses some much needed nurturing.
Now I understood my dream. My choice to work full time in dreams 11 years ago was a choice based on passion and that passion for dream work continues. The supportive structures of the work (the inevitably boring accounting, for example, or the occasional overload of html web design work) sometimes demand my main focus. This can restrict the vision and leave less time for extending my mind on the interesting stuff of dreams. The little girl in my dream was my dream work needing to be nurtured through play, passion and love. The father was the supportive structures, the business, the focus on outcome rather than the process.
I'm thankful to my dream for painting a picture of achievement despite this, but extremely grateful to my dream for reminding me to delegate, take time out or do whatever needs to be done at such busy times to rest and free up my passion.
I have taken that time and I'm now back in the water. Not in the swim but in the play. I am back in touch with the passion and drama of dream work. I am back in the land where things are never what they seem but what they mean.
Jane Teresa Anderson
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