I am with two guys who I do not recognize, standing by a river or overflow ditch. Turbulent water rushes away from me. My binder falls in the water and I watch it rush away.

The two men jump in and try to grab my binder, and wave me to follow. I jump in and swim after them through a concrete tunnel, following the brightly-colored billowing clothing/backpack of one of the men. Alligators or crocodiles are cradled against the concrete sides of the tunnel, and for a moment I panic. The fear ebbs as I realize they watch me hungrily but will make no move against me.

I swim on through the tunnel. The tide turns momentarily and the water rushes in my direction, bringing the binder back to me. I grab it and swim on. At the end of the tunnel is a rock wall. I climb the rock and stand firmly on the ground. The guys are there. I'm not tired but I'm anxious; I feel I don't have much time until the crocodiles give chase.

We run down a nearby street. They lead me to an old, many-windowed house, brightly lit at the end of the dark street. They try to get in and I am confused and afraid. Why are we trying to get into this house? There is a rustle at the door. All three of us squeeze up against the flat wall of the house, trying to escape notice. A crowd of Indian ladies dressed in red and purple saris exit the house. They pass us as though acknowledging us without acknowledging us. They leave the door open and watch silently, hidden partially in shadow, as we go in. Once I'm inside, I no longer see the two guys; all women now.

More Indian women lead me to a staircase which winds a quarter turn up. A few more descend as I step onto the first landing. Each smiles and nods at me as she passes. I feel comforted by their gestures; I don't know them, but they know me. I climb up the stairs, carpeted in fine woven wool, beige and brown.

When I hit the second landing, I look to the left, into what looks like a typical living room, brightly lit. From it, an older, thin, Indian man stares at me intently. He seems both angry and resigned, as if he's pissed that I'm climbing past him but he knows I must. He makes me feel unsettled but driven as well. I turn right and go on up the stair.

When I reach the top, the staircase is unfinished; the floor is slightly out of my reach and there is no door, only an opening. I am not meant to enter, I think. I think the place is sacred, not for outsiders. I debate quickly whether or not I am to enter and decide that the behavior of the others indicates I should.

So I look to my left and see the path others must have taken to get beyond this gap. I grab a handle which has been bolted to the wall with my left hand. With my right, I grab a handle which has been bolted on the facing wall, between the ceiling and the top of the entrance frame. I swing myself up and land, on my knees, on a bright red woven rug.

The ceiling is very low, so rather than walk, I crawl down the long hall. There are many rooms on both sides of the hall. I think one room is mine, though I've never seen it before. It's lit only by a single candle, but I can tell the carpet is red and the walls are a neutral beige. I know I am to spend time there--meditating perhaps.

But I pass that room and crawl on to the end of the hall, to another dark room flickering with TV light. My sister is there, lounging and watching television. She and I talk and watch together, arguing over problems we have had in the past. But the scene is generally pleasant... until I wake up, at 1:30 AM.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• The binder: this dream happened the summer before I finished my master's from Columbia. The binder never opened in the dream, so I can't say for sure, but it looked like the one I carried for Columbia.
• Animus/Anima: the two men took initiative and encouraged me to follow. But once I entered the house they disappeared; it was the women who encouraged me to climb the stairs.
• The third floor: I can't really assign any meaning to it. My dream houses usually have only two floors.
• My sister: she and I argue playfully all the time. It really was pleasant. I think climbing to reach her represented some levels of mastery--I was invited to this house that seems to be a sacred place, the crocodiles won't make a move against me, even the man whose stare is so daunting doesn't seem to pose a threat, when these are all things that ought to pose a threat. I think the dream was showing me all the work that I had to do to get to me.

EDITOR'S NOTES

• Animus/Anima: both the men in the water and the Indian women aid your progress, but in such distinct stages! I guess it makes Jungian sense that animus figures guide you past the crocodiles, if the binder's about getting your degree (intellectual or career progress), but once you've gotten that squared away, anima figures invite you up toward spiritual/inner work.
• The House Of Three Floors: Jung wrote of (and dreamt) this common image of our multileveled selves. Details vary of course (and let's stay out of the basement, even if Jung dug it!) but here's a typical schema:
  • TOP: Spiritual, intuitive, creative, conscious
  • MIDDLE: Emotional, social, unconscious
  • GROUND: Physical, health, environment, instinct
  But your dreamhouse has a twist I've dreamt too--a three-story house where two levels are easy but one's hard to reach, due to a gap or locked doors. Your gap is near the top, a common pattern seen also in Martha Sherwood's Reconciliation. (In contrast, I often dream the middle floor is my challenge--the main stair skips it! But that says more about me than dreams in general.)
• Meditation room: I still think you have one more step: that room's still empty. TV and hanging with your sister is fun but familiar--not a spiritual stretch. That scene does suggest you need to clear stuff up with her before you can do the spiritual work waiting for you. But maybe she means comfort or daily life in general, and the dream's saying you need a base camp of happiness to support a further climb into spirituality. Individuation must mean more than chillin' and channelsurfing! That final room is waiting.

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