CGCC Dream Class offers an exploration into the self, starts April 2
By Nancy Turner
Nancy Turner is set to start teaching a class on dream interpretation on Tuesday, April 2 at CGCC The Dalles campus
Exploring the meaning of dream symbols can enhance self-knowledge and happiness. The more we know about our subconscious the more comfortable we are with ourselves. I’ve benefited from extensive training in Jungian dream analysis. I’m offering a class in which I will teach various approaches to examining the metaphorical meanings of dreams. The class starts next Tuesday at The Gorge Community College.
Some dreams are prophetic. Some are nightmares. Others are metaphorical and help us understand ourselves. Some may mean something beyond comprehension, or be meaningless. Who knows? I still marvel at the mystery of it all.
Join me for a fun exploration into the world of dreams. If you’re interested but don’t remember dreams much, come anyway. I’ll teach you ways to encourage your inner dreammaker.
The Dalles Campus of the Columbia Gorge Community College
We’ll meet April 2 through April 30th, Tuesday evenings, 6 p.m. - 7:30 p.m. Cost: $50.
Register at cgcc.coursestorm.com or call (541) 506-6031.
We’ll use creative imagination, writing, and art to delve into dreams. We’ll examine their insights into personal and universal human conditions. For forty-five years I was a therapist in private practice and a retreat leader specializing in the use of elder-tales, meditation, and dream work. I’m delighted to be able to share this with you.
In the early ‘80s, long before I started studying the meaning of dreams, I had a dream in which I was at Portland State University, (significantly, a place of higher learning) and a voice, neither male nor female, spoke to me. It said, “You are to live in Kairos.” That was it. I woke up. I’d never heard the word Kairos before. I had no idea what it meant. How can a word I’ve never read or heard make it’s way into my dream?
I called a friend. He explained it to me. The Greeks have two gods who represent ways of measuring time. From the god Chronos, we get chronological time. This is what we use every day. Our calendars and clocks all track time in a linear fashion. It measures qualitative time and is exact. The other god, Kairos, gave us another way of viewing time. Kairos is defined as a way of viewing time in which things happen at the right time or at an opportune moment. Kairos time involves waiting till it feels right. It’s a feminine way of viewing time. For Christians, this means being sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s guidance, to wait to see what the Lord’s plan is. In Kairos time, we need to be patient. We need to pay attention. Things will happen when the time right. (I still use an alarm clock if I have a plane to catch.)
Ever since that dream, I’ve learned to pay more attention to whether it feels like the right time to do something, or not. I used to be compulsive about wearing a watch. Not anymore. I’m not great at paying attention to my intuition, but I’m working on it.
In 1988 I vacationed in Thailand for a couple of weeks. One warm night in Bangkok, a light breeze passed through the kitchen of the restaurant next door and slipped into my hotel room. The air carried the sweet smell of sticky rice and cilantro. The morning sun was still below the city's edge when I woke from a dream. I remember it now as if it happened this morning.
In the dream, I was standing at the crest of a curved footbridge, like the ones crossing the canal surrounding the old city of Chiang Mai. I'm leaning on the wood railing, thinking how the grey color of the water reminded me of the Willamette River. Suddenly a gigantic golden fish leapt into my arms. I cradled a creature the size of a baby seal. It was luminous, glowing softly like the moon. Some of the scales sparkled in the morning sunlight. I was in awe. After gently lowering the fish back into the water, I woke up.
At first I wondered if the fish had anything to do with my love of swimming, or was meant to draw attention to Pisces, which I ignore. I had no idea what it meant. I wanted to know. Thus began my quest into the world of Jungian psychology and dream analysis.
From a Jungian perspective, I learned that water is considered to represent the sum of all thoughts, memories, impulses, desires, and feelings that we are not aware of. Even though we’re not aware of them, they influence our emotions and behavior. Ocean water can be a reference to the collective unconscious of all humans. The river is a metaphor for the flow of life. Fish are frequently seen as symbols of the unconscious. Catching a fish, a creature that lives hidden from sight, is symbolic of retrieving material from that part of my psyche that was repressed, therefore unknown. Fish are also mystical symbols for the spiritual transfiguration of Christ, and represent spirituality. Interpreting dreams is not an exact science. It’s an exploration into the unknown.
Before this dream, I'd thought of myself as just an ordinary tourist. Having grown up attending the Unitarian Church, I had not thought of myself as particularly spiritual. I interpreted this dream to mean that my customary identity was undergoing a major transformation, yet my understanding of those changes slipped away as easily as the fish slipped back into the river. I didn’t know what it meant. I shrugged it off. I didn't pay much attention.
Years later I returned to Thailand. This time my mission was to research hotels, restaurants and modes of travel in order to co-lead a trip for westerners. My tour members would be people interested in visiting a country in which Buddhism influences every aspect of life.
I traveled all over Thailand visiting monasteries and temples. I interviewed abbots to ask if they would welcome a group of Americans. All happily agreed to meet with my group in the coming year.
Few tourists know of the Daen Mahamongkol Meditation Center. Most people tour temples in Bangkok and travel to the western side of the country to explore nature preserves, ride elephants, and visit the World War II Museum. In a world dominated by male monks, male politicians and male businessmen, this retreat center stands out as a unique refuge for women.
Ma Chee Kahneeta, the founder of this center, envisioned a place where, no matter what her social or economic status, a woman could study Buddha's teachings, attend retreats, and become a nun if she wished. Ma Chee Kahneeta bought several hundred acres of dry scrubland outside of Bangkok and turned it into a land graced with emerald green lawns, gardens, hundreds of shad trees and buildings constructed of local teak.
As I walked along a path toward the Dharma Hall, a place of worship, I looked out across a large open lawn. I saw seventy-five high school girls, dressed in long white skirts and white blouses, proceeding in silence, single file. Their hands were held on their chests in prayer. With a backdrop of lush green vegetation behind them, they appeared ethereal.
A middle-aged nun I encountered nearby told me that high school students receive credit for attending a three day retreat. Can you imagine being in high school and receiving credit for attending a meditation retreat? I also learned that Thai policemen go each year to other venues for a weeklong silent meditation retreat. While on the job. Imagine what it would be like if our police forces did this. What would law enforcement be like if people were taught how to calm their minds, focus their attention, and feel loving-kindness toward all beings?
The Daen Mahamongkol Dharma Hall was larger than any church in Portland. Walls surrounding the hall had framed open spaces suggesting windows, though there was no glass. A gentle, flower scented breeze flowed through the openings. Diffused sunlight filled the room. I imagined, with deep respect, the majesty of what it must be like to meditate in the presence of hundreds of women sitting row after row, in silence.
The sweet smell of floor wax drew my attention to the auburn floor. Three-foot wide planks of teak glowed from continuous polishing by devout nuns. I crossed the smooth surface in bare feet and sat directly in front of a huge gold statue of Buddha. I folded my legs under my skirt and closed my eyes to meditate. The quick twittering of birds outside reminded me of the sparkle of goldfish scales in sunlight. I was filled with a sense of awe. My heart stilled. It had been fourteen years since my dream. It now made sense to me. I got it. My transformation was happening. There I was, meditating in a sacred temple, and studying the teachings of Buddha. I soon would be leading others on a journey to Thailand. I had become a spiritual seeker.
