The Magical Child

This dream occurred in a semi-sleep as I was awakening. I became aware that I was dreaming and it felt good so I let my mind just go where the dream seemed to want to go. Near the end, I started coming out of the trance state and got up out of bed with the thought that I had to turn this into a story.

Only after I started writing it down did I realize that it contained elements associated with the archetypes as first described by Carl Jung.

The dream itself seemed to go very fast but as I thought about it, it seemed that there were missing pieces. I began to think of it as a story I could write about instead of just a dream. So my mind started filling in parts of the story that I could not be sure were part of the original dream. But, as I wrote, in longhand while drinking coffee, I was in a trance-like state very similar to the original. So it was really a continuation of the dream. But it ends prematurely (it was time to go) and there is more to the story. If I got into a similar trance, I am sure it would come to me.

— The Dream —

Our small house was an old, one story building in a town lined with lots of similar houses. There was a small lawn in front, a sidewalk leading to the front door and branching off to the left to continue around the house to the back door. The front door and back door were on opposite sides of the central room, the living room which had lightly varnished wood floor, white walls and not much furniture. I lived with my mother and never thought about where my father was or if I even had one. We were not well off but we were not poor.

I was about 18 years old and it was summer. I planned on college in the fall. The college was nearby but I intended to live away from home if I could. What happened in the dream changed all that.

I had just gotten up, had on jeans and sneaks, when I heard a knock on the back door. I opened it and on the other side of the screen door was a young girl, well dressed, with very bright red lipstick. I opened the screen door, inviting her inside.

Just inside the door she just came up close and gave me a warm hug, nothing erotic, just a big warm hug of affection. There were no words but I understood she wanted to go somewhere to talk.

We walked rather quickly along the sidewalk near the street. I had no idea where we were going but it was important. I moved too fast and she fell behind. When I looked back, she was gone. I looked up and down the street. Nothing.

About 5 months later, she again showed up at the back door with a baby girl in her arms. I reached for her and she gave her to me. I knew that I was not the father but the baby did belong to me – to us. The girl left quickly with no explanation.

My mother seemed to think that I was the father and asked no questions. I announced my intention to raise the girl although I had no idea how I would do that. My mother, previously thinking I was leaving for college, now wanted me to stay so she could be with her granddaughter.

So I started college that fall, living at home, working part time and acting as a father to the girl, whom I named Rose. I had the help of my mother and an elderly neighbor named Mary. But, when I was able to do so, I changed diapers, told my little girl stories and rocked her to sleep at night.

I knew she was not mine and that I would not have her forever. She seemed to know that as well because when she was 5, she suddenly said to me, “You are not really my Dad, are you?”

“No,” I said. “It doesn’t matter because you have taken very good care of me.” Neither of us talked of her mother or how she came to be there with me. She was a magical child and I loved having her with me and the time I could spend with her.

Rose was 7 when she again came to the back door. This time, it was clear she had something to say, to tell us. Rose and she sat down on the couch, side by side, and I sat in a chair across from them both. The dream/trance faded but I had the feeling that all three of us were destined to be together and it felt very good.

——– Notes

The magical child is described as an archetype by Carl Jung and his student Caroline Myss. This is what she has to say:

The Magical Child sees the potential for sacred beauty in all things, and embodies qualities of wisdom and courage in the face of difficult circumstances. One example is Anne Frank, who wrote in her diary that in spite of all the horror surrounding her family while hiding from Nazis in an attic, she still believed that humanity was basically good. This archetype is also gifted with the power of imagination and the belief that everything is possible.

There is always a shadow side to each archetype and the shadow is this:

The shadow energy of the Magical Child manifests as the absence of the possibility of miracles and of the transformation of evil to good. Attitudes of pessimism and depression, particularly when exploring dreams, often emerge from an injured Magical Child whose dreams were “once upon a time” thought foolish by cynical adults. The shadow may also manifest as a belief that energy and action are not required, allowing one to retreat into fantasy.
http://www.myss.com/library/contracts/four_archs.asp

In numerology, the number 7 has a meaning which is relevant to this dream.

The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of Truth (notice the capital “T”). The 7 doesn’t take anything at face value — it is always trying to understand the underlying, hidden truths. The 7 knows that nothing is exactly as it seems and that reality is often hidden behind illusions.

http://www.numerology.com/numerology-numbers/7

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I Like my Name

It was not easy to come up with a name for my blog.  Almost everything I could think of was already in use.  I thought I was being very creative in coming up with some of the names but humbled to discover that someone else had done it first.

The next step was a user name and I had a lot more fun with this.  It just came to me quickly that I am “tough jello.”  It made me laugh to think of it.  It is also appropriate.  Some think I AM tough but a little soft. Some say, soft in the heart, some others say soft in head.  Who knows?

Anyway, I have an itch to write and decided that Facebook was NOT the place.  So I searched for alternatives and wound up here.  See you as soon as I come up with an idea.