My House Has Many Rooms

Today’s post is by guest blogger Bob Sessions:

Some of you have perhaps read Bruce Chatwin’s book about Australia called Songlines. In it he tells the story of how traditional Aborigines find their way across the Outback by identifying each landmark with a particular song, creating a musical map of the terrain. The original GPS!

When I read the book, I was also intrigued to learn that Aborigines begin each day with lengthy discussions of their dreams. They believe that if you are unclear about what is going on in your inner life, you will wander through your day (or life) like someone lost in the wilderness.

Not surprisingly for people whose lives are so tied to nature, their dreams are about the land. My own dreams, in contrast, are often about houses. But both of us navigate the complexities of our inner landscapes with metaphors from our familiar outer worlds.

Throughout my life, my dream maker has used houses to represent the architecture of my struggles and bookend chapters in my life. Retirement has proven no exception to this phenomenon, as I’ve experienced changes in my subconscious that are reflected in two recent house dreams. Perhaps these may be of interest to those of you who also find inspiration in your dreams.

Several months ago I dreamed that my house was being dismantled board by board. After all the pieces had been put aside, what remained was a worn spot in a grassy clearing in the woods. Retirement, it seems, is a time to deconstruct and rebuild, whether or not I’m prepared for it. I’m sure you’re aware of the difficulties people can experience if they ignore this aspect of the reality of aging.

This dream has helped me be more mindful of the many ways I am changing, not only in the everyday world of work, institutions, and relationships, but also subconsciously. I have been especially aware of a deep desire to change my motivational structure (please excuse the stiff psychological language, but it is descriptive) from one of doing my duty to acting more and more from a different, and I think deeper, place. I now have the luxury of doing things because I desire to and not because I have to. With a lifetime of experiences to draw on, as well as time to be more deliberate, perhaps I can construct a beautiful dwelling.

In the second dream, while “they” were out of the house doing their duties (who they were I’m not sure), I was left at home. At first I spent my time securing my house—checking the doors and windows, tidying up, etc.—but then I found myself exploring a room I’d never known about. Unlike the solid but stiff construction of my previous houses, this room was more like an Arab or Mongolian tent made of colorful rugs and flags. I liked the feel of that  exotic interior place and I hope to spend more time there. I wonder what other unexplored rooms there are in my house.

Do you have thematic dreams? And if you do, do you find them helpful in important

ways? What songlines help you navigate the landscape of your inner life?