I was having fun browsing a lovely flea market run by gypsies, but I also was a gypsy myself, as apparently was my mother-in-law, who sent me off on an errand. I passed several covered stands, one of which specialized in cheeses, before returning with my sister and settling some dispute having nothing to do with us. Then it was not a flea market, but a train we were aboard, and we were not gypsies but at least my mother-in-law and her family were rich and powerful. Think: the Orient Express. I was still running errands between the dining cabins, etc. Then we had to evacuate the train which was now a hugely impressive manor house and which may have been on fire. We waited out on the wet grass, with the rich passengers in their fine dresses (mostly ladies, as it were). That was soon settled, however, and as I came back up the steps I realized I was not at the front door but at the service entrance, itself being grandiose, and I was looking in on the servant kitchen and dining area curiously.
Next thing I saw was the train roaring away on the tracks. I was deep inside the manor house now, which was not a manor house but a prison. A stone castle, really, a fortress used as a prison. I was not a prisoner myself per se, but I was in boot camp and we were not free to go. The instructor/big beefy drill sergeant had us run up the stairs of the tower. I was in the lead and did not realize that they had all stopped on a previous level. I came back down immediately (after almost reaching the top), but the instructor had already declared that the group was to be punished for not stopping me, and I was to be punished for not noticing on my own. This punishment was for me to pick someone out of the group of fellow boot campers and beat them. They were all very cheerful about it and the smallest ones, who were ostensibly my cousins, volunteered first. (I think perhaps they were the students of Gunnerkrigg Court, and the drill sergeant did somewhat resemble Mr. Eglamore.) I had serious reservations about punching a girl half my size, but I decided I didn't want to find out what the drill sergeant would do otherwise, so I just punched her very lightly. We then proceeded to prepare for some sort of mission, and in the background another train passed by on the tracks.
Well, a market is available opportunities, and a flea market is putting old skills or ideas to new use- learning from the past. Me being a gypsy, seems to be me wanting to be free to follow what course I want without the usual restrictions of day-to-day life (although I have to say that traditionally speaking, gypsies don't get much respect). I may want to be free from the restrictions of normal life, but I am still running errands (although they do appear to successfully resolve diplomatic issues). I have no idea what my mother-in-law is doing there (except she's Egyptian, which is where someone came up with the word Gypsy in the first place), though the archetype says this means pleasant results after initial animosity, and that makes sense in regards to these mysterious diplomatic issues.
Then I am on a train- going from wanderlust and wishing there in camp to my life's journey in motion. Of course, the subconscious is wonderful when it comes to puns, and I think this train is also a symbol for my being in training. I want to change my life, especially this position I'm in where I am always serving others and overly submissive, but I have doubts about my abilities. Probably it will all work out in the end- the track only goes one place, after all- but I am worried about it. The train is as elegant as the mansion it becomes, which symbolizes achievement and personal accomplishment, even if my self-esteem is still so low that I'm running around in a faded yellow t-shirt and jeans. I'm in a rut, not drawing from or living up to the potential I have. The mansion being on fire signals that I need to transform but that I might not be ready to do so yet- why, I can hardly go in the servant's entrance and explore the kitchen, where this fire comes from, without the scene changing altogether.
As the train speeds away, am I left behind? I am being held back, restricted, censored. By whom? I am not a prisoner of the state. Did I sign up for this boot camp voluntarily? Also, I am in a veritable castle, climbing the stairs in the highest tower. This means I will be recognized and honored, that I am making significant spiritual progress. It means too that I am avoiding real life again, and I do get called back down from the top of the tower in the clouds to a more reasonable level. The drill sergeant seems to be part of me that is a tyrannical task master, probably my perfectionist tendencies of which I have been trying to rid myself. On the one hand, the drill sergeant calls me (as Me and as my other Gunnerkrigg camper avatars) on being responsible for paying attention, communicating, and sticking with the matter at hand. He also prompts me to deal with frustration and anger when it happens. That's well and good. On the other hand, he encourages self-blame, self-punishment, and self-aggression, which is not healthy at all. That I follow the drill sergeant instead of standing up to him may indicate the key issues I need to face in order to reach my potential.
The train passing by again seemed to underscore the fact that I was training, apparently for an important mission, the nature of which has not yet been revealed. (It did not feel as if life were passing me by- actually, it seemed to reassure me that there would always be some train or another to catch whenever I was done.) Since the dream started out with me on a mission, and ended with me on a mission, and was filled in between with me on errands galore, I'd think this idea of a mission was pretty important. I wonder when my subconscious will fill me in on just what it is.
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Next thing I saw was the train roaring away on the tracks. I was deep inside the manor house now, which was not a manor house but a prison. A stone castle, really, a fortress used as a prison. I was not a prisoner myself per se, but I was in boot camp and we were not free to go. The instructor/big beefy drill sergeant had us run up the stairs of the tower. I was in the lead and did not realize that they had all stopped on a previous level. I came back down immediately (after almost reaching the top), but the instructor had already declared that the group was to be punished for not stopping me, and I was to be punished for not noticing on my own. This punishment was for me to pick someone out of the group of fellow boot campers and beat them. They were all very cheerful about it and the smallest ones, who were ostensibly my cousins, volunteered first. (I think perhaps they were the students of Gunnerkrigg Court, and the drill sergeant did somewhat resemble Mr. Eglamore.) I had serious reservations about punching a girl half my size, but I decided I didn't want to find out what the drill sergeant would do otherwise, so I just punched her very lightly. We then proceeded to prepare for some sort of mission, and in the background another train passed by on the tracks.
Well, a market is available opportunities, and a flea market is putting old skills or ideas to new use- learning from the past. Me being a gypsy, seems to be me wanting to be free to follow what course I want without the usual restrictions of day-to-day life (although I have to say that traditionally speaking, gypsies don't get much respect). I may want to be free from the restrictions of normal life, but I am still running errands (although they do appear to successfully resolve diplomatic issues). I have no idea what my mother-in-law is doing there (except she's Egyptian, which is where someone came up with the word Gypsy in the first place), though the archetype says this means pleasant results after initial animosity, and that makes sense in regards to these mysterious diplomatic issues.
Then I am on a train- going from wanderlust and wishing there in camp to my life's journey in motion. Of course, the subconscious is wonderful when it comes to puns, and I think this train is also a symbol for my being in training. I want to change my life, especially this position I'm in where I am always serving others and overly submissive, but I have doubts about my abilities. Probably it will all work out in the end- the track only goes one place, after all- but I am worried about it. The train is as elegant as the mansion it becomes, which symbolizes achievement and personal accomplishment, even if my self-esteem is still so low that I'm running around in a faded yellow t-shirt and jeans. I'm in a rut, not drawing from or living up to the potential I have. The mansion being on fire signals that I need to transform but that I might not be ready to do so yet- why, I can hardly go in the servant's entrance and explore the kitchen, where this fire comes from, without the scene changing altogether.
As the train speeds away, am I left behind? I am being held back, restricted, censored. By whom? I am not a prisoner of the state. Did I sign up for this boot camp voluntarily? Also, I am in a veritable castle, climbing the stairs in the highest tower. This means I will be recognized and honored, that I am making significant spiritual progress. It means too that I am avoiding real life again, and I do get called back down from the top of the tower in the clouds to a more reasonable level. The drill sergeant seems to be part of me that is a tyrannical task master, probably my perfectionist tendencies of which I have been trying to rid myself. On the one hand, the drill sergeant calls me (as Me and as my other Gunnerkrigg camper avatars) on being responsible for paying attention, communicating, and sticking with the matter at hand. He also prompts me to deal with frustration and anger when it happens. That's well and good. On the other hand, he encourages self-blame, self-punishment, and self-aggression, which is not healthy at all. That I follow the drill sergeant instead of standing up to him may indicate the key issues I need to face in order to reach my potential.
The train passing by again seemed to underscore the fact that I was training, apparently for an important mission, the nature of which has not yet been revealed. (It did not feel as if life were passing me by- actually, it seemed to reassure me that there would always be some train or another to catch whenever I was done.) Since the dream started out with me on a mission, and ended with me on a mission, and was filled in between with me on errands galore, I'd think this idea of a mission was pretty important. I wonder when my subconscious will fill me in on just what it is.
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