I’m at the bottom of a cliff on a beach. Rubbish is everywhere. Environmental artists have been here, they’ve made all this mess. A pig whines at me to scratch his tummy. There are the remains of tomatoes and eggs by him. He looks sick. I ask him who did this to you, and he replies “you did”. I fed him omelette until he was sick.
I scratch his belly. Looking up the cliff, I see another pig, painted gold. It reminds me of Goldfinger. I think I must scrub him clean if I can climb up and catch him.
One of the artists is painting the rocks. Where the paint touches, the seaweeds and lichens die on contact. She begins to take small rays and whatever from rock pools and paints them to. Everything the paint touches shrivels and dies.
I try to explain that Dali wrote a short book about environmental art that doesn’t kill everything. She isn’t listening, killing more life by painting over its natural beauty.
I see some friends. J is going to drive us to a wedding. I’m not sure if everyone knows each other. I’m surprised to see C with a girlfriend. I pick up an empty, clear plastic container with a cross drawn on the bottom and use it to frame a photo of the cliffs. My eyes are the camera. My memory the film. I wonder how I got so far down the cliffs.
Interpretation: I am the pigs. I have hurt myself by trying to care for myself in the wrong way, and at the same time, I have tried to appear as a climbing and achieving Golden boy pig to the rest of the world. I have hidden who I really am to prevent harm to others. I’ve kept the burdens of my problems to myself. I’m aware of the similarities between gold and geld. I have been emasculated, and covered this up.
I have let myself and others paint over and slowly kill off my natural state, and made only vague suggestions as to a solution. I must clean the golden pig, so he still can climb, but has his own natural beauty.
I’ve been isolated from my friends. I don’t know much about them anymore. The empty camera 📷 is recycling the rubbish at the bottom into a way of seeing to the top, to progress. My eyes and memory carry the trauma that I suffered. I have a long way to go.
#dream #interpretation #gold #pig