In the following dream, I recall an accident at the age of twelve. The accident and description are both real.
Thursday, March 20, 2014; (Unconscious dreaming)
I was standing in an operating room in front of a gurney. There were three staff members on the side of the gurney across from me, behind them were six copper looking tanks. On the gurney before me was the surgeon instead of a patient. The surgeon claimed to have a way of healing diseased body parts. The parts of the body that were infected had to be cut off and soaked in a chemical bath for some time. Once the disease was gone, and the part was healed it could be easily reattached to the person. The doctor was explaining all of this to me because I had a disease he wanted to help me get rid of. I had been very skeptical so the doctor was operating on himself.
The surgeon was in the process of cutting off his own limbs. As they came off, his staff placed them in small tanks. Once the doctor was down to one arm, his torso and head, he explained to me that all would be soaked for one year. After one year, his staff would put him back together and reanimate him. I stood there as the staff removed his arm and head placing them along with his torso in the tanks.
A year later I found myself standing next to the doctor who had been recently reanimated and restored back to health. It was late afternoon on the corner of a crossroad. I recognized the intersection. It was a spot where I had been hit by a car at age twelve. Standing there in the dream, I relived the accident in my mind. An impatient driver in a dune buggy, accelerating around a car in front of him that had come to a stop in the road. He jestered to the stopped driver as he passed, his attention being bought back to the road by a sudden impact at the front of his car.
I recalled the sound of an accelerating engine and looked to my left. I only saw a glimpse of the car’s hood as my body was viciously slammed down on its top. Witnesses said I had gone through the windshield then made contact with the rear roll bar. This flipped me into the air and deposited me two lanes over on the side of the road.
As the doctor and I stood on the corner where I first entered the road on my bike, I looked across at the place my body had landed. On that spot stood a book store. I could just read a sign on the door, “Closed after hours.”
“We need to get in the bookstore,” the doctor said.
“But it’s closed,” I told him, pointing to the sign on the door.
“You have the keys. We can go over, and you can unlock the door,” he suggested.
I looked at the spot the store sat, remembering when I had awakened sometime after the accident, I could only open my right eye. A friend’s mother was over me saying something but either I could not hear her or maybe did not recall what she was saying. I felt numb all over and tilted up my head. She pushed my head back down holding me still but not before I had had a brief glimpse. Most of my left sides were covered in blood and bent in odd angles. I looked back over to her, seeing one of her hands covered in blood and wondering where she had gotten it. Things went dark until I came to later in the hospital.
Standing there, I thought about the hospitalizations, the surgeries but mostly the many months of healing, rehabilitation and learning to walk all over again. My biggest memory was the pain; it was always there. Some worse than others but it was many months before it crept out of my body.
“I don’t feel comfortable going across,” I informed the doctor.
“I know you don’t; that’s why I am here. I can help you,” he assured me. “But,” he continued, “it’s going to take a lot of courage and trust from you.”
I knew he was talking about surgery but could not fathom what he would be removing that would help me.
“What needs to be done?” I asked.
“You’ll need to be castrated,” he responded.
In shock, I looked at him hoping he was joking. He looked back at me sternly.
“It’s the only way I can help you,” he said. “The removal is only for a short time and when things are reattached, you will be much better.”
I looked back to the store and all the memories of that day many years ago. I wanted to get to the store. However, fear overrode any of those wants, but I knew the doctor was right. He stepped away from me and toward a parked car. He opened the door and looked back at me.
“We need to go now if you want my help,” he said.
I’m not sure, how long I stood there, but eventually I walked over and got in.
My next recall was stepping out of my car from the passenger side. My wife drove me from the hospital back home. I got out and walked down the driveway.
“Are you Ok?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “It’s just a strange feeling not having anything down there,” I added. I was given orders to keep my strength up by walking around and doing my regular activities.
“I’m just going to roam around the yard for a while,” I informed her.
“I’ll be in the house if you need me,” she said.
She went inside, and I took a few slow walks around the house. I was not in any pain or discomfort; I just could not get over the empty or missing sensation of not having any male parts. My friend and neighbor, Tom came over to check on me.
“How long before things can be reattached?” he asked.
“Several months before the disease is gone, then a couple more to begin replacing things. The doctor assured me I would be good as new,” I told him.
“You think it will be worth it?” he asked.
“I believe it will,” I assured him.
Defining the dream;
I am having some anxiety about making more changes with expandurmind.com, because of the effort, time and money they will cost. In the dream my unconscious is the surgeon, someone whom I trust and take advice from.
Dismemberment has many meanings, one of which is the removal of habits. In my case, the habit is a fear which in the dream is a disease. Dissecting it will remove the fear then put things back together to a much better state than before. The surgeon explains the operation to me, in this case the operation is my site, time and money. Dissecting himself convinces me this is a good thing and should ease my tension.
Most of the time a dream crossroad is the decisions we have to make. I am sure a bit of that is true here. However, it is also where my habit of fear started. Through the pain and suffering experienced in my rehabilitation, people did their best to calm my fears. If pain became too much they stopped. If I was afraid of falling out of my wheelchair or not being stable on crutches, I was not pressured. I learned quickly to let fear guide me until it became a habit, keeping me safe and most of the time stopping me from taking unnecessary chances. This fear is valuable to me and not easy to let it go of.
The book store is my mind, and all my ideas sit inside lined on the selves. The store will remain closed until I unlock the doors. Fear keeps me from crossing into that spot. The surgeon still at my side, tells me the only way to make it to the store is through castration.
When it comes to the sexual organs, it’s not always about sex or the organ. A lot of the time it’s about energy, expression or the things we refuse to let go of, such as fear. The surgeon explains that it would only be temporary. If I allow myself to be castrated, “discard the fear” I can move across the street.
Once I get used to living without it, I can have it reattached. I took my surgeons (unconscious’) advice and went through with the castration. My neighbor asks me if it was for the best. I confirm it is, which gives me the answers I sought out. Break the habit and set the fear aside, let it become a tool to use not a habit to guide me.
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