I had a dream last night where I was in the house where I grew up, my mother was there in the dream, and I was trying to play a piano piece I played many years ago. It was, I believe, a Chopin Prelude. The trouble is, it was just not working out. I thought I would be able to manage at least part of the piece, but something was just totally wrong. I seemed to have the idea of the thing, but it was not manifesting on the keyboard. Suddenly I realized what the problem was. I was trying to play the left hand part with my right hand and the right hand part with my left hand. Something like that. So I switched hands, or arms, or rotated the piano, or whatever, and the thing sounded a little better. Still not good, but vaguely recognizable.
So what the heck does this mean? I always wonder what the heck things mean in a dream because I've always believed they're supposed to mean something--or at least I've believed it since college when I studied the psychology texts of Carl G. Jung. The idea is that meaning, wisdom, is arising from the self, making contact with the ego in a sort of coded language, and this should then be interpretable.
So, what? I'm somehow doing things backwards? Or upside down? Or inside out? Ending up with confusion rather than the well-ordered composition, after the manner of Chopin? And what things? Surely, the things that were on my mind. But what things were on my mind? Jeeze, I don't know.
So it seems that Jung has so far availed me nothing of enlightenment in this case. Maybe the message will suddenly pop into my head, or rather my ego, tomorrow or the next day, if only I can change my right to my left and my left to my right. More probably, however, I will simply forget the dream altogether, thus making room for another dream to forget. Which is, if nothing else, at least a good way of preserving the purity of mystery.