As a child I was discouraged from acknowledging anything that disturbed the status quo such as sexism or racism, so what to do with all the disturbing behaviors I saw? When I was in first grade, I had a dream that felt so important to me that I drew a picture of it at school. In the dream, I stopped at a little old lady’s house. This was close to reality, because I used to visit a Mrs. Q. on my way home sometimes – she would give me a cookie and listen to me talk about my day. In the dream, she gave me a basket in which we filled with eyeballs, and then we gave the basket to a big black German Shephard who carried it in his mouth. I thought this dream was newsworthy, so drew a newspaper page with columns of textural scribble to look like type (I could not write yet) with a square for the illustration, in which I drew an eyeball, a dog’s head and a basket. The teacher dismissed it because of the scribble, but I spent several years wondering what the dream was telling me until I gave up. I did dissect a cow’s eye and make a beautiful chart of it for the science fair a few years later, but this time it was dismissed because it was too well done so a parent must have done it. I was disappointed yet again, but mostly because I understood the meaning of the eye no better than before cutting it up and drawing each part. Now, when I think of all the things I was so carefully taught not to see, or to ignore when I did see, I know that this wise crone helped me gather my visions and carry them safely in my unconscious life, to be activated by myth and symbol in the years ahead. To her I am eternally grateful.
Children may be allowed to see more now. My 11-year-old granddaughter recently showed me a picture she created of a winged, robed figure - horns rising from her head with a crescent moon swinging in-between. Instead of a face, the head has a pattern of eyes fitting tightly together. Her figure reminds me of the Egyptian Goddess Hathor, with an emphasis on her role as the protective Eye of Ra, the Sun God. The power of my granddaughter’s picture has been in the foreground of my visual thinking all week. I had never understood who that big black dog in my childhood dream was, the one carrying the basket of eyes that had been removed from my head, but with my eyes on Hathor it became obvious. The dog was the Egyptian God Anubis, the black dog who leads souls to the Underworld and protects their graves. I am grateful for that dog who stood guard over my eyes that saw what I was forbidden to see as they went to live in my unconscious for decades. I am grateful to my granddaughter who has shown me the meaning of the dog in my dream. I am grateful to my son and daughter-in-law who have encouraged their children to keep their eyes consciously wide open.