Robert A. Answers By God! What God Is. William Allan. Living Your Unlived Life. Robert Sardello. Discovery of the Presence of God. David R. The Heart of Centering Prayer. Cynthia Bourgeault. The God Factory. Mike Hockney. No Boundary. Ken Wilber. Reginald Martin. The Holy Trinity and the Law of Three.
New Self, New World. Philip Shepherd. I: Reality and Subjectivity. Marc Gafni. Jung to Live by. Eugene Pascal. A New Design for Living. Ernest Holmes. In Search of Being. The Starseed Transmissions. Ken Carey. Essence of Reality. Thomas Nehrer. The Dice Game of Shiva. Richard Smoley. Along the Path to Enlightenment. Patricia Grabow. How to Become God. Michael Faust. God: All That Matters. Mark Vernon. Going Deeper. David Hoffmeister. Love and the Soul. Lucid Waking. Georg Feuerstein. Alchemical Psychology. Thom F. Life is a Pilgrimage.
Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan. Creating Consciousness. Albert Low. The Psyche Exposed. The Five-Minute Philosopher. Gerald Benedict. A Course In Awakening. William Talada. Mental Alchemy. Ralph M. The Intelligence of the Cosmos. Ervin Laszlo. Love and the World. Murine Publications LLC. Practical principles found in this Teacher Guide come from personal experiences and from research systematically crafted to give the greatest transferability to your classroom. Each section in the Teacher Guide is designed to be read independently.
Thus, with one exception, you can begin reading where ever you wish. The exception is Chapter 7, "An Overview of the Units. Here are a few facts you might expect to read at the beginning of a teacher guide. Rekindling Traditions units deal with a theme significant to the community. The titles are listed here alphabetically in English along with the teacher-authors.
When you read the cover page of each unit, the authentic name is shown first. The units are copyrighted in such a way as to invite you to copy, modify, and use them in any manner you wish. The only limitation is that no profit be made from selling a unit. Perhaps they may interact with your students in school or on a field trip. See Stories from the Field for more information on how to locate and involve these local advisory people. Each unit is organized the same way, as shown on the left-hand side in the table below.
In each lesson plan right-hand side , the "Lesson Outline" section details how to teach the lesson. The "Teacher Notes" section includes practical hints as well as background information applicable to that one lesson. Aboriginal or Scientific Value to be Conveyed. This web site has details about the Rekindling Traditions project not found in this Teacher Guide. How does a teacher put this policy into practice in science classrooms?
The Aboriginal knowledge found in each of our units creates a context for instruction that most Aboriginal students relate to. It is also a context into which Western science instruction logically fits. Aboriginal content is central to each unit, it is not merely a token addition. In our cross-cultural approach described in a later Chapter , Aboriginal knowledge and languages are treated as an asset in the science classroom.
Rather than adopting a deficit model i. The flexibility to move back and forth between cultures is a definite asset in Canadian society today. Some educators call this flexibility "empowerment," others call it walking along two different paths. Two of these dimensions embrace canonical science content "key science concepts" and "processes of science". At the same time, our units make Western science content accessible to Aboriginal students in ways recommended by respected Aboriginal educators such as Greg Cajete , Eber Hampton , Oscar Kawagley , and Madeleine MacIvor ; ways that differ from the conventional approaches of the past.
The goal of conventional science teaching has been to transmit to students the knowledge, skills, and values of the scientific community. This content conveys a Western worldview due to the fact that science is a subculture that evolved within Western culture Pickering, ; Rashed, This worldview is often quite different from the conventional worldview of Aboriginal peoples.
A comparison between the two is found in Chapter 5, "Background. As a result, school science seems culturally foreign to most students and only a few study it seriously in high school and university. This under-representation of Aboriginal peoples in science related positions in society creates a social issue for Canada: How can Aboriginal students master and critique a Western scientific way of knowing about nature without losing something valuable from their own cultural way of knowing? To First Nations science educator Madeleine MacIvor , the answer to this question is clear: "The need for the development of scientific and technical skills among our people is pressing.
Reasserting authority in areas of economic development and health care requires community expertise in science and technology" p.
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In Australia and New Zealand this is called "two-way" learning, while in the U. But to make this happen, the curriculum and instruction must be cross-cultural in nature, as it was for Luke. Central to this cross-cultural approach is the tenet that Aboriginal children are advantaged by their own cultural identity and language, not disadvantaged in some deficit sense. Aboriginal students have the potential of seeing the world from at least two very different points of view, rather than just one, as many of their Euro-Canadian counterparts do. The teachers who were interviewed in the study were both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, and taught Aboriginal students in grades 7 to The research identified barriers to student participation in science and technology.
While the science teachers tended to blame various inadequacies a lack of this and a lack of that , no teacher shared the views of Canadian Aboriginal educators who pointed to the vast differences between Aboriginal culture and the culture of Western science, differences that make science a foreign world to most students Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal students alike.
On the other hand, all teachers agreed that there was a lack of suitable materials for teaching Aboriginal content in science classes. The research study also found a great diversity in cultures from community to community across the north. Thus, instructional techniques and teaching materials developed in one community can not necessarily be directly transferred to another community.
Unless the teaching materials provide a meaningful context to students defined by the local community , many students find the science curriculum inaccessible. Aikenhead and Huntley recommended that teachers be provided with appropriate units of study and, equally important, a way of engaging their community in modifying the units to suit their local culture. Such units of study would illustrate cross-cultural bi-cultural science teaching.
The adaptation process would involve community people who have valid knowledge to contribute. Glen Aikenhead , proposed to conduct action research by developing some cross-cultural science units applicable to grades 6 to 11 in northern Saskatchewan. Their proposal was based on the needs of Aboriginal students and the research recommendations, both summarized in Chapter 3.
They were guided by the new directions for science education proposed by Aboriginal educators. All had a personal interest in developing their bi-cultural science teaching further. The teachers formed a working network in January , facilitated by Glen Aikenhead and other community resource people. As a result of this funding, teachers received a modicum of release time for research and writing up to eight days and for attending work meetings seven two-day meetings, one during the summer.
As the project evolved, the focus of these meetings changed from identifying themes to finding resources, to editing manuscripts, and then to planning in-service workshops. Minutes of each of our work meetings are posted on the web site. We constantly sought the wisdom of one Elder Henry Sanderson of La Ronge , although different Elders have helped the team at different times.
These are described in Chapter 7, "An Overview of the Units. During its 18 months of research and development, the action research team was guided by educators such as Greg Cajete , , who had written about their experiences, knowledge, and insights. These experiences, knowledge, and insights are summarized in the next chapter. Several topics are presented here in order to describe the general ideas that informed Rekindling Traditions , ideas that should help you implement any of the units, or help you develop your own cross-cultural science and technology unit.
Chapter 5 has a number of references so you can investigate any of the topics on your own. The word "science" has different meanings for different people. It also has different meanings in different contexts for the same person. Hence, the phrase "Aboriginal science" can make sense to some people, but not to others.
In this Teacher Guide , the basic notion of "science" is: a rational empirical way of making sense of nature. This "definition" conforms with international perspectives on science education Ogawa, by recognizing that each culture has its own rationality which has proven itself over the years by developing dependable knowledge about nature.
In Western industrialized societies, we often distinguish between science and technology, but in First Nations societies the two are intertwined so closely that technological artifacts are often an expression of the rational abstract knowledge of nature held by an Aboriginal community. In , Glen Aikenhead summarized the literature comparing and contrasting Western and Aboriginal sciences.
This summary is condensed here. Lillian Dyck also has written on this topic. Aboriginal knowledge about the natural world contrasts with Western scientific knowledge in a number of ways. Aboriginal and scientific knowledge differ in their social goals: survival of a people versus the luxury of gaining knowledge for the sake of knowledge and for power over nature and other people Peat, They differ in intellectual goals: to co-exist with mystery in nature by celebrating mystery versus to eradicate mystery by explaining it away Ermine, They differ in their association with human action: intimately and subjectively interrelated versus formally and objectively decontextualized Pomeroy, They differ in other ways as well: holistic First Nations perspectives with their gentle, accommodating, intuitive, and spiritual wisdom, versus reductionist Western science with its aggressive, manipulative, mechanistic, and analytical explanations Knudtson and Suzuki, ; Peat, They even differ in their basic concepts of time: circular for Aboriginals, rectilinear for scientists.
Aboriginal and scientific knowledge differ in epistemology. Pomeroy summarizes the difference succinctly:. Ermine contrasts the exploration of the inner world of all existence by his people with a scientist exploring only the outer world of physical existence. He concludes:. On the one hand, the culture of science is guided by the fact that the physical universe is knowable through rational empirical means, albeit Western rationality and culture-laden observations Ogawa, ; while on the other hand, Aboriginal science celebrates the fact that the physical universe is mysterious but can be survived if one uses rational empirical means, albeit Aboriginal rationality and culture-laden observations Pomeroy, For example, when encountering the spectacular northern lights, Western scientists ask, "How do they work?
Aboriginal knowledge is not static, but evolves dynamically with new observations, new insights, and new spiritual messages Hampton, ; Kawagley, The language, norms, values, beliefs, knowledge, technology, expectations, and conventional actions of First Nations peoples contrast dramatically with those of Western science. Western science has been characterized as but not entirely mechanistic, materialistic, reductionist, empirical, rational, decontextualized, mathematically idealized, communal, ideological, masculine, elitist, competitive, exploitive, impersonal, and violent Kelly, Carlsen, and Cunningham, ; Pickering, ; Rose, ; Snow, ; Stanley and Brickhouse, By comparison, Aboriginal knowledge of nature tends to be thematic, survival-oriented, holistic, empirical, rational, contextualized, specific, communal, ideological, spiritual, inclusive, cooperative, coexistent, personal, and peaceful.
Based on these two lists, Western and Aboriginal sciences share some common features empirical, rational, communal, and ideological. Consequently, it is not surprising that efforts are underway to combine the two knowledge systems into one field called "traditional ecological knowledge" Corsiglia and Snively, While a romanticized version of a First Nations peaceful coexistence with the environment should be avoided, Knudtson and Suzuki document the extent to which environmental responsibility is globally endemic to First Nations cultures, a quality that led Simonelli to define "sustainable Western science" in terms of First Nations cultures.
The world is first a world of spirituality. We must all come back to that spirituality. Then, after we have understood the role of spirituality in the world, maybe we can see what science and technology have to say" p. Deloria , also of the Lakota nation, challenged the objective validity claimed by Western science when he spoke about improving the subculture of science by getting science to adopt a First Nations sense of contextualized purpose.
He said:. Both knowledge systems tend to be viewed as superstitious by members of the opposite group. This brief characterization of Aboriginal and Western sciences hints at the intellectual and emotional challenges faced by many First Nations students who attempt to cross the cultural border from their everyday world into the world of Western science in school classrooms.
These challenges are clarified further in the next section. Several aspects of cross-cultural teaching and learning are summarized here. This summary reveals the difficult and hazardous cultural negotiations that students must win if they are to succeed in school science.
Within First Nations cultures, subgroups exist that are commonly identified by nation, tribe, language, location, religion, gender, occupation, etc. Within Western cultures, subgroups are often defined by race, language, ethnicity, gender, social class, occupation, etc. A person can belong to several subgroups at the same time; for example, a female Cree middle-class research scientist or a Euro-Canadian male working-class technician.
Each of these groups has its own subculture. When we move from one group to another, we move between two subcultures, that is, we cross a cultural border. Cultural border crossings are natural social occurrences we often take for granted. In our everyday lives we exhibit changes in behaviour as we move from one social setting to another; for instance, from interacting with our professional colleagues at work to our families at home.
As we move from the one subculture to the other, we intuitively and subconsciously alter our language, and we modify certain beliefs, expectations, and conventions. In other words, we effortlessly negotiate the cultural border between professional and family settings. Two scenarios illustrate the type of difficulties that First Nations students can encounter when they try to negotiate the transitions between two diverse subcultures.
These scenarios are taken from Aikenhead, In each scenario a misunderstanding arises because at least one of the players does not recognize that a cultural border has been crossed. University physics student Coddy Mercredi disobeyed his faculty advisor by avoiding geology courses throughout his university career. He understood science all too well and chose not to cross one of its borders.
His advisor thought he was lazy and not worthy of a science scholarship. These scenarios alert us to the potential obstacles that students face when they travel from their home culture to the culture of a science classroom. Coddy Mercredi, for instance, feared he would be assimilated by geology, and therefore border crossing for him was a problem.
For him cultural border crossing into geology was more than hazardous, it was impossible. Hennessy , p. Cultural negotiations best occur in an atmosphere where learning is experienced as "coming to knowing," a phrase used by Saskatchewan First Nations educator Willie Ermine The world in which most Aboriginal students participate is not a world of Western science, but another world increasingly influenced by Western science and technology.
Coming to knowing engages Aboriginal students in their own cultural negotiations among several sciences that could be found within their school science. Four such sciences were identified by Ogawa First, students reflect on their own understanding of the physical and biological world. Second, students learn some of the Aboriginal common sense held by their community.
Third, students may encounter ways of knowing of another culture, including other First Nations peoples. Negotiating among various sciences in school science is known in Japan as "multi-science education" Ogawa, Cross-cultural bi-cultural teaching facilitates these negotiations. Coming to knowing is about developing cultural identity and self-esteem. As mentioned above, studying Western science for most but not necessarily all Aboriginal students is a cross-cultural event.
Students move from their everyday cultures associated with their home and friends to the culture of Western science. These transitions, or border crossings, are smooth for students who Vikki Costa calls "Potential Scientists" students who want to be encultured into Western science. Most science teachers belong to this group.
Their border crossings into school science were so smooth that borders did not exist. For them, learning science was not a cross-cultural event. However, for "Other Smart Kids" students who are very bright at school work in general, but have no personal interest in science, even though they get very high marks in school science , the border crossings are manageable cross-cultural events.
Success at coming to knowing the science of another culture depends, in part, on how smoothly one crosses cultural borders. Cajete described the situation this way:. Too often students are left to negotiate border crossings on their own. Most students require assistance from a teacher, similar to a tourist in a foreign land requiring the help of a tour guide. According to Aboriginal educator Arlene Stairs , a science teacher needs to play the role of a culture broker. A culture-brokering science teacher understands that Western science is a sub-culture itself. Scientists generally work within an identifiable set of attributes: language, norms, values, beliefs, knowledge, technology, expectations, and conventional actions.
These attributes define a culture. For Western science, these attributes are identified as "Western" because the culture of Western science evolved within Euro-American cultural settings Pickering, ; Rashed, The culture of Western science today exists within many nations, wherever Western science takes place.
This strategy is illustrated in Chapter 7 "An Overview of the Units. Aboriginal science or Western science , because as teachers talk they can unconsciously switch between cultures, much to the confusion of many students. This will be accomplished differently in different classrooms. It has a lot to do with the social environment of the science classroom, the social interactions between a teacher and students, and the social interactions among students themselves.
A teacher who engages in culture brokering promotes conversations among students in a way that gives students opportunities to engage in the following three types of activities Aikenhead, First, students should have opportunities for talking within their own life-world cultural framework without sanctions for being "unscientific. Finally, students should be consciously aware of which culture they are participating in at any given moment. Sometimes bridges can be built in various ways between cultures, other times ideas from one culture can be seen as fitting within the ideas from another culture.
Whenever apparent conflict between cultures arises, it is dealt with openly and with respect. See the section below called "Collateral Learning" for more ideas on this point. Smooth border crossings cannot occur if a student feels that he or she is associating with "the enemy" Cobern, The sections that follow provide specific ideas to help a culture broker be flexible and playful, and to feel at ease when attempting to smooth the cultural border crossings for Aboriginal students.
June George has studied cross-cultural science for a long time in her native Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. In northern Saskatchewan, for example, the "force" of an animal trap is measured scientifically as "momentum. This tree is considered in conventional science circles to have pharmacological properties, but appropriate usage has not been verified by scientists.
For example, in northern Saskatchewan the beaver is considered to be central to the interrelationships among many animals. In Western science, the beaver has recently been recognized as playing the role of "key species" in ecology. By finding examples that fit categories 1 and 3, a teacher can highlight the apparent similarities between the two knowledge systems. Examples that fit category 2, on the other hand, demonstrate to students that there is much more scientific knowledge to be discovered.
However, category 4 content will present a challenge for teachers. June George cautions teachers against stereotyping Aboriginal peoples:. Some indigenous knowledge is embedded in the technologies and practices of a community used over a long period of time. Waldrip and Taylor found that Melanesian high school students in a small South Pacific country were aware of conflicting ideas between school science and the indigenous ideas of their village life.
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These students coped with discrepancies by employing a process Waldrip and Taylor called the "compartmentalization" of school knowledge. Based on his Solomon Islands research, he concluded, "To compartmentalize the world into domains, each with an interpretive framework [Western science versus magic], is not a perversity but an effective survival technique" p. Her effectiveness is mirrored in the Japanese experience of wearing a Western business suit but maintaining a bamboo heart.
Lowe , in his Solomon Island study, argued for a sophisticated view of learning that went beyond the simple dichotomy of "science versus traditional knowledge. Lowe did not elaborate on what these strategies might be. Luckily another science educator, this time from Nigeria, explored a variety of strategies, a topic to which we now turn. Whenever integration of Western and Aboriginal science occurs, conceptual conflicts are bound to arise.
These conflicts can be resolved in more ways than compartmentalization. Olugbemiro Jegede recognized several strategies with which people seemed to resolve conceptual cultural conflicts. He referred to these strategies as "collateral learning. A simple example of collateral learning is illustrated by students learning the cause of a rainbow. In the culture of Western science, students learn that the refraction of light rays by droplets of water causes rainbows; while in some African communities, a rainbow signifies a python crossing a river or the death of an important chief.
Thus for African students, learning about rainbows in school science means constructing a potentially conflicting idea in their long-term memory. Not only are the concepts different refraction of light versus pythons crossing rivers , but the type of knowledge also differs "causes" versus "signifies". Jegede, who originally learned Western science in his native Nigeria, recognized variations in the degree to which conflicting ideas interacted with each other in his mind, and the degree to which he resolved those conflicts in his mind.
He identified four types of collateral learning: parallel, simultaneous, dependent, and secured. These four types of collateral learning are not separate categories but points along a spectrum depicting degrees of interaction and resolution. For more information on how collateral learning is identified in science classrooms, please refer to the article by Aikenhead and Jegede; At one end of the spectrum, the conflicting schemata do not interact at all.
This is parallel collateral learning, the compartmentalization technique. Students will access one idea or the other depending upon the context. For example, students use a scientific concept of energy only in school, never in their everyday world where commonsense concepts of energy prevail Solomon, Many teachers the world over complain that their students leave their science knowledge at the school door. At the opposite end of the collateral learning spectrum, conflicting schemata consciously interact and the conflict is resolved in some manner.
This is secured collateral learning. The person will have developed a satisfactory reason for holding on to both ideas even though the ideas may appear to conflict; or else the person will have encompassed both ideas holistically, with one idea reinforcing the other, resulting in a new conception in long-term memory.
Between these two extremes of parallel and secured collateral learning lies dependent collateral learning. It occurs when an idea from one culture challenges an idea from a different culture, to an extent that permits the student to modify an existing idea without radically restructuring their existing worldview.
A characteristic of dependent collateral learning is that students are not usually conscious of the conflicting domains of knowledge.
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Students are not aware that they move from one domain to another unlike students who have achieved secured collateral learning. A fourth type of collateral learning is simultaneous collateral learning. This fits in-between parallel and dependent collateral learning on the spectrum described above.
A unique situation can occur in which learning a concept in one culture can facilitate the learning of a similar or related concept in another culture. It does not happen often but when it does, it is usually co-incidental. For instance, suppose a Nigerian student is studying photosynthesis in school and comes across terms such as "chlorophyll," "denaturing," and "chloroplast.
But suppose that after encountering the concepts in school, he or she finds something that makes the school science vivid while helping mother in the kitchen. In Nigeria, people often blanch green vegetables before adding them to soup. During this preparation the vegetables are left for some minutes to soak in boiling water, and the vegetables lose some of their green colouration chlorophyll. When people drain the water, all they see is green colour. In that situation, a student might simultaneously learn more about the school concepts of chlorophyll, denaturing, and chloroplast while learning to prepare soup with green vegetables at home.
In these two settings home and school , learning about a concept is not usually planned, but arises spontaneously and simultaneously. By reflecting on the two settings and their concomitant concepts e. The two ideas, established in long-term memory by simultaneous collateral learning, may over time: 1 become further compartmentalized, leading to parallel collateral learning, or 2 interact and be resolved in some way, resulting in either dependent or secured collateral learning, depending on the manner in which the conflict is resolved.
If you can understand how different students perceive and resolve cultural conflict differently described in terms of collateral learning , then perhaps you can be more effective in helping your students perceive and resolve their own cultural conflicts that might arise in your science classroom. It is important for us to be cognizant of our own preferred type of collateral learning, otherwise we tend to assume that everyone else resolves cultural conflicts the same way we do.
A different type of conflict arises when we translate from one language to another. With the aid of a dictionary or knowledgeable friend, we can translate an English word into, for instance, a Cree word. But we must be mindful that the thing we are actually referring to can change dramatically from one context to the next.
For example, in both Western and Aboriginal sciences, people rely on observations. The process "to observe" in English might be translated into "wapahtam" in Cree Y dialect. But wapahtam signifies two things not conveyed by the English verb "to observe. English is full of words super-ordinates that abstract general categories from more specific ones observing generalizes seeing, smelling, hearing, tasting, and feeling. The Cree language abstracts ideas quite differently, often through the use of other complex verb forms. Therefore, strictly speaking there is no accurate translation of "to observe.
There is no objective distancing as there is in the Western scientific "to observe. Each verb is embedded in cultural meanings that differ dramatically. Another example of what gets lost in translation is illustrated when we identity an animal as a "wolf. The convention in the culture of Western science is to categorize animals according to a Linnean worldview. As our unit Trapping points out, this worldview is useless in the context of survival based on trapping. For trappers, the relevant knowledge is not Linnean classification, but instead, animal behaviour.
Animal behavior has no significance to a Linnean worldview. Did you notice in the last two sentences that as we shifted from Western science to Aboriginal science, so did our language? Our language should give a clear hint about which culture we are speaking in at any given moment. In some Aboriginal cultures, the important question to ask is, " Who is mahihkan? Only superficially does " Canis lupis " translate into "mahihkan. A culture brokering teacher must be sensitive to the culturally embedded meanings of words in both cultures e.
Canis lupis and mahihkan. Culturally sensitive instruction consciously acknowledges the potential for misunderstandings. Wise science teachers are vigilant, flexible, and open-minded. We formulated nine principles to guide our work when we incorporated Aboriginal knowledge into our units. Elder Henry Sanderson found them to be satisfactory. They are repeated here. The people quickly realized that the worldview of Western science was hidden within Project Wild.
The worldview of Western science implicit in Project Wild was at odds with a worldview of First Nations science. As a consequence, a new parallel project was developed, Practising the Law of Circular Interaction. Aboriginal knowledge must be taught within an Aboriginal context or framework. The act of "translating" Western science into an Aboriginal context or visa versa can unintentionally force a Western worldview onto Aboriginal students. Thus, in spite of our best intentions, we can inadvertently engage in assimilation, rather than empowering students to walk in two worlds.
Each of our units should establish an Aboriginal framework of a community, to which Western scientific knowledge can relate without distorting that Aboriginal worldview. Beware of Western Trojan Horses. Avoid representing Aboriginal peoples as all the same homogeneous. Let the reader know about the origin of any particular knowledge, and about the permission we have to describe that knowledge.
All Aboriginal knowledge found in our units should have gone through a partnership process of involving Aboriginal peoples. Aboriginal knowledge found in a unit should contribute to the empowerment of Aboriginal peoples. One way to do this is to make the reader aware of how the representation of the Aboriginal knowledge found in the text was obtained and rechecked later by those whom the knowledge represents. This will remind the reader that stories and information that come from Aboriginal peoples belong to that community unless explicit permission is granted to repeat the story or information in one of our units.
Avoid appropriating Aboriginal knowledge to suit the purposes of the author. The purposes of the Aboriginal community must be served. Clarify what "traditional" means whenever the word is used. Recognize that culture changes. It is not static. What is traditional knowledge today in a community may not necessarily have been traditional knowledge in the days before contact with Europeans.
People in a community must decide what is traditional for them, not an outsider. It may help if we use phrases such as "ways of living three hundred years ago" or "pre-contact technology" instead of "traditional ways of living" or "traditional technology" respectively. Avoid prescribing what is authentic to a group of people. The people themselves must decide what is authentic. Remember that gaining Aboriginal knowledge is a journey towards wisdom. This process of learning is described by the phrase "coming to knowing.
Ensure that Aboriginal knowledge is acknowledged as being inter-connected with many areas or fields of thought, to remind the reader that Aboriginal knowledge fits into a "wholistic" point of view. Avoid being bound to a narrow context in which the knowledge is described. Chances are very high that, as future parents, our students will pass on to their children the grandchildren of the community important ideas they learn from our units.
Our vision should be multi-generational. Avoid the short-term perspective on what we write. Avoid tokenism which uses Aboriginal terms just for "window dressing. Pay attention to the verb tense when we write about Aboriginal knowledge. The present tense indicates that the practices and knowledge are useful to some people today in contemporary society. On the other hand, the past tense gives the impression connotation that the practices and knowledge have been superseded by "modern" scientific or Western views. Avoid dismissing powerful ideas as being applicable only in the past.
These principles, for instance, guided us through a potential conflict related to spirituality. It is challenging, yet crucial, not to distort local knowledge by making it conform to a Western worldview endemic to school culture. Inadvertent assimilation will take place in a science classroom if the local knowledge is taken out of its cultural context. Disrespect can occur, for instance, if the teacher ignores the unifying spirituality that pervades Aboriginal science Ermine, Spirituality, whether pre-contact Traditional, Roman Catholic, Anglican, or Fundamentalist Christian, has force for most Aboriginal students even though it is purposefully absent from science classrooms where an adherence to a Cartesian duality is the cultural convention.
Each represents our own, individual version of the universal forces that combine to create a human life. The inner self is not only plural: Jung found that the psyche manifests itself as an androgyny, containing both feminine and masculine energies. Every man needs to connect the "masculine' ego to the side of his psyche that the unconscious sees as his "feminine" side. Each woman's feminine ego needs to make a syn- thesis with the symbolically "masculine" side of her total self. The psyche spontaneously divides itself into pairs of opposites.
All the archetypal energies in us appear to the conscious mind as complementary pairs: yin and yang, feminine and masculine, dar and light, positive and negative. Part of me lives in the conscious mind, and part of me— the complementary quality that com pletes the whole— is hidden in the unconscious. It depends on the individual, but some common patterns are clear and useful to know. Men have been traditionally conditioned in our culture to iden- tify with the thinking and organizing side of life, to be heroes and doers. The unconscious often chooses a feminine figure, there- fore, to represent a man's emotional nature, his capacity for feel- ing, appreciating beauty, developing values, and relating through love.
These are the capacities that in many men live mostly in the unconscious. Their appearance in a man's dream in feminine im- agery signals his need to make them conscious, expand the nar- row focus of his "masculine" ego-life. The ego structure of many women is identified mostly with feeling, relatedness, nurturing, and mothering — qualities that are traditionally thought of as "feminine. When she appeared in hisV found she was a creature of mythical quality, seemine! He found the same archetypal feminine preset other men.
He also observed a corresponding masculine souV age in the dreams and lives of women. Anima and animus are Lat- in words for soul. It is important to be aware of the soul-images. They appear reg- ularly in our dreams and play a tremendous role in our develop- ment as individuals. They affect the entire course of our lives. Both as energies within us and as powerful symbols, the soul- images are tremendous forces to be reckoned with. All our in- born desire for unity and meaning, our desire to bring the oppos- ing parts of ourselves together, to go to the unconscious and explore the inner world, to find religious experience, is concen- trated in these inner beings who are the mediators between our egos and the vast unconscious.
If we don't interact with the anima or animus in our inner work, we inevitably project them into areas of our lives where they don't belong. For example, a man may project his anima into his job and be- come obsessive with it, making his work into an inferior channel for his religious life. A woman may project her animus onto an external man and fall in love not so much with the human being but with the soul-image that she has projected onto him.
The whole basis of the romantic fantasy that so often sabotages ordi- nary human love is the projection of a man's anima onto a woman or a woman's animus onto an external man. In this way people try to complete themselves through another human being, try to live out the unconscious, unrealized parts of themselves through the external person on whom they put the romantic projection.
In the introduction I spoke of the process of individuation. Using our dreams as models individuation also consists to a great extent in brim! The wholeness of our total being, and our consciousness of the quality of wholen is expressed in an archetype. Jung called this archetype the self' The self is the principle of integration. It is also the whole— the entire person. When a symbol of the self appears in a dream it represents not only the totality of our being, but also our poten- tial capacity for the highest consciousness— the awareness of uni- ty in ourselves and in the cosmos.
Dreams constantly record the process of individuation and the movement of the ego toward the self. In most dreams we see an immediate, local situation in our lives. But, at the same time, if you collect your dreams together and see them in the aggregate, they report the stages along the way in the journey toward the self. The self has characteristic symbols: The circle, the mandala a circle divided into four parts , the square, and the diamond are all abstract figures that express the archetypal self.
The self is present in all quaternity dreams— dreams involving four characters or in some way emphasizing the number four. Jung found that numbers are archetypal symbols. The number four has been used in every religion from ancient times to the present to symbolize the wholeness of the cosmos or the comple- tion of a spiritual evolution. Another characteristic symbol of the self is the divine or royal couple: The conjunction of the polarities of masculine and temi- nine, like the conjunction of the dragons Yin and Yang, symbol- izes the highest synthesis of the self. Usually the shadow contai Sentence d and traits, both negative and positive, that are a nat'ur?
Ualities the ego-personality. For example, if a man's attitude is friendly toward his inner shadow, and he is willing to grow and change, the shadow will of- ten appear as a helpful friend, a 4t buddy," a tribal brother who helps him in his adventures, backs him up, and teaches him skills. If he is trying to repress his shadow, it will usually appear as a hateful enemy, a brute or monster who attacks him in his dreams. The same principles apply to a woman.
Depending on her rela- tionship to her shadow, she may appear as a loving sister or as a frightful witch.
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These are some of the basic concepts and models in Jungian dream work that most people find useful when first approaching dreams. They will become more clear as we work with sample dreams and learn the practical steps in the chapters ahead. The Four-Step Approach e we begin step one it may help to have a brief preview of the four basic steps we will be covering in the pages ahead. The steps are these: 1. Making associations 2 Connecting dream images to inner dynamics 3. Interpreting 4 Doing rituals to make the dream concrete In the first step we form the foundation for interpreting the dream by finding the associations that spring out of our uncon- scious in response to the dream images.
Every dream is made up of a series of images, so our work begins with discovering the meanings that those images have. In the second step, we look for and find the parts of our inner selves that the dream images represent. We find the dynamics at work inside us that are symbolized by the dream situation. Then, in the third step, the interpretation, we put together the informa- tion we have gleaned in the first two steps and arrive at a view of the dream's meaning when taken as a whole. At the fourth step we learn to do rituals that will make the dream more conscious, imprint its meaning more clearly on our minds, and give it the concreteness of immediate physical experi- ence.
When we arrive at the fourth step, we will discuss the uses that ceremony and ritual can have for us in reconnecting with the unconscious. With this brief road map before us, we will start now with the first step. Step One: Associations For every symbol in a dream the unconscious is ready to the associations that explain the symbol's meaning.
Our task begins with waking up to the assocT ations that spontaneously flow out of us in response to symbols First, go through your dream and write out every association that you have with each dream image. A dream may contain per- sons, objects, situations, colors, sounds, or speech. Each of these for our purposes, is a distinct image and needs to be looked at in its own right.
The basic technique is this: Write down the first image that ap- pears in the dream. Then ask yourself, "What feeling do I have about this image? What words or ideas come to mind when I look at it? It is literally anything that you spontaneously con- nect with the image. Usually every image will inspire several associations. Each brings to mind a certain person, word, phrase, or memory. Write down each association that comes directly from the image. Then go back to the image and see what other associations come to mind.
Keep returning to the dream image and writing down each association that is produced in your mind. Only after you have written all the associations that you find in that one image should you go on to the next image and begin the same process. At first, this may feel like a lot of work.
But after you do it a few times and discover the amazing power of this technique to key you into the meaning of your dream symbols, you will feel that it is well worth the effort. You will also begin to see why symbols have such power over human beings: Symbols connect us spontaneous- ly to the deep parts of ourselves that we have longed to touch.
So don't try to choose amon K them '? Just Suppose you have a dream that begins: "I am in a blue room " The first image you have to work with is the color blue might be the associations you would produce: Blue: Sad or depressed— -blue mood," "I've got the blues. Color of clarity: cool, detached consciousness contrasted with lively, emotional red. My blue sweater. I usually wear blue. My grandmother's living room. Always blue.
Blew — "blown away. It is no accident that the unconscious produces the color blue in one scene, but uses red in another or black in yet another. Blue is used because this particular color expresses the dynamic at work in the unconscious. The meaning that blue has for the uncon- scious will be found somewhere in the associations to this color that the unconscious produces. Depending on who the dreamer is, the color could represent clarity and detached contemplation.
This use of the symbol might, when interpreted in step three, turn out to mean that a person who is completely controlled by feelings needs to be a little more cool and clear. You are, in effect, asking the Un conscious, "What are the meanings that you associate with you r own symbol? The purpose is to find out what your own unique associations are, not what someone else tells you they ought to be according to some book or some theory of psychology. So don't be embarrassed by your associations; don't censor them; don't try to make them sound more elegant or "proper.
Make a new association from the original image. Always go back to the dream image and start over again from there. Don't make chain associations. Chain associations are when we make connections with the asso- ciations rather than with the original dream image. This is also called "free association. If we do this we never get back to the original dream image. By the time we get to "hospi- tal" or "Aunt Jennie" we have already lost any direct connection to the color blue. The correct method can be pictured as a wheel, with the dream image at the hub, and the associations radiating out like spokes from the center.
All associations proceed from the original im- age. We always return to the center of the wheel before we go to the next association. The unconscious often uses symbols that bring up col- loquial phrases like "I've got the blues. They come out of the simple, down-to-earth everyday life; therefore, they are excellent language for the unconscious.
A common example is the dream motif of flying. If you find yourself flying in a dream, it can bring to mind a wealth of collo- quial expressions: "I'm flying high. Which one is going to lead me to a correct interpretation? Jung had an answer that sounds deceptively simple: He said that one of the associations will "click"! As you go through your associ- ations, one of them will generate a lot of energy in you. You will see how it fits together with other symbols in the dream. Or you may feel a spot touched in you where you are wounded and con- fused. You may find that this association makes you see something in yourself that you had never looked at before.
It clicks. Although this method sounds too simple, it is reliable. Remem- ber that dreams are created out of energy. One way to find the essence of a dream symbol is to go where the energy is — go to the association that brings up a surge of energy. Every symbol is calcu- lated to rouse us, to wake us up. It is organically tied to energy systems deep in the substrata of the unconscious.
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When you make a connection that is very close to the energy source, sparks fly. It is as though you had touched a live wire. You feel intuitively that you have tapped into the energy behind your dream: The associ- ation dirks. Sometimes it is not clear at first which association is most accu- rate or more useful for understanding your dream. In that case it is better to leave it alone for a while and go on to the next symbol.
Don't lock yourself into one meaning for the symbol; keep an open mind until you begin to tie the whole dream together. Let your understanding of the symbols grow naturally in you, without forcing, without jumping to conclusions. Because we have! She be- came involved in Zen Buddhist philosophy and meditation. This dream signaled a return to her cultural and religious roots, yet a graduation out of her childhood version of them. It showed her that she could make a synthesis of East and West within her own self that was true to her own character.
Dream I am in a monastic cloister, in a room or cell attached to the cha- pel. I am separated from the people and the rest of the chapel by a grille. Mass begins. I participate alone in my cell. I sit with crossed legs, zazen style, but holding my rosary. I hear the murmurs of the responses through the grille. The voices are tranquil. I close my eyes and I too receive communion, although no one and nothing physical enters my cell. The mass finishes. I become aware of flow- ers blooming at the side of my chamber. I feel a deep serenity. Step One: My Associations Religious life; formal religious life; community, my childhood religion; contemplation; sacrifice, medieval cloisters in Italy and Spain; separation from the world; Zen monastery I almost joined.
Container; womb; the basic component of life- forms; protection; separation from the collective; individuation; the path that must be traveled alone, outside of any collective identity or comfort. One step removed - need to participate in religious experience yet not be iden- tified with collective, outer form of the inner experience. Separation; partial separation; interaction with the collective world but differentiated interac- tion; separate identity; separate consciousness. This gives you a sample of the wealth of material that will flow spontaneously from the unconscious when we really focus on the dream image and look for every association that comes to mind.
We have all this material, even though we have not yet gone through all the images. If you have looked carefully at this woman's associations so far, you may already see the basic relationships that are forming among the images and the various associations that seem to make coherent sense together.
You will see how these associations led eventually to her interpretation. This dream advised the dreamer of the right and the necessity for her to be an individual. The emphasis in the dream was on her living out her religious nature; she had to participate in the mys- tery, yet not by identifying with a particular external, collective version of religion. In the dream she participated, but remained separate from the group and the group version of religious expe- rience. This was not because she was an elitist, but because that is her nature and her way.
The detail of receiving communion without any physical con- tact was consistent with her understanding of her dream. The flowers that bloom in her cell at the end of the mass she found to be a symbol of new life and new consciousness resulting from the synthesis that she has made in the dream between her childhood religion and her adult experience of the spirit.
More accurately speaking, the flowers express the synthesis itself. Such a symbol points to that archetype— the self— that transcends the opposites by revealing the central reality behind them and there- by unites them. Flowers are not only symbols of the feminine but also of the uni- fied self: in Christianity, the rose that represents Christ; in East- ern religions, the thousand-petaled lotus that portrays the One.
By this dreamer's way, which is the path of stillness, she brought the flower of the self into bloom in her life. She found the univer- sal kernel of spirit that is at the center of both her Christian roots and her Zen experience — that transcends both and is not identi- fied with the outer form of either.
Some important things happened to this woman as an after- math to this dream. When we get to the fourth step in dream work, which is to do a ritual to express the meaning of your dream, we will return to this Dream of the Monastery. This dreamer's ritual for her dream, and the events that followed, ai very instructive. I spontaneously associated the flowers that app ea a in this woman's room with their role in Christianity, Buddhism and other religions as symbols of the archetypal self.
That turn, keyed us into the other information that we already know about the self — that it is the transcendent function that combines the opposites, that draws the fragments of our totality into a uni- ty. And all of this, of course, added greatly to our sense of the meaning and power of the dream.
Jung became aware of the archetypes by observing that the same primordial symbols appear equally in ancient myths and re- ligions and in the dreams of modern people. He was startled to find that images appear in people's dreams that refer to some very ancient symbol, perhaps from a completely different culture, that could not have been known to the conscious mind of the dreamer. From these experiences he began to see that our dreams draw on universal, primordial sources that are deep in the collec- tive unconscious of all humankind. We can often see more clearly how the symbols in our dreams are tied to those universal streams of energy when we encounter the symbols, as Jung did, in myth, religion, and other ancient sources.
It becomes possible to go to a myth where the archetype ap- pears and find the collective associations that the human race as a whole has to that archetype. We can read in the myth all the quali- ties in us that are contained in the archetype and that are associat- ed with its symbols. Jung has demonstrated that myths and fairy tales are symbolic manifestations of the unconscious, just as dreams are.
In a sense they are the collective dreams of the human race: They reflect the collective unconscious of a tribe, a people, or a culture rather than the local, personal unconscious of one individual. Therefore they are rich sources of information on the archetypes. They go back to the preconscious era, when the human race was closer to its archetypal roots. We may also look to esoteric philosophical traditions, such as medieval alchemy and ancient astrology, as sources of information regarding the archetypes.
His imaire vari. There is a common quality that runs through the symbols of the Wise Man — a feeling of wisdom that transcends generations, agelessness in the sense of being outside the flow of time. Here we find him as he appears in a modern myth from the hand of J. Tolkien: His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars.
Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many win- ters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength. Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring, p. The dream that contains an archetype often has a mythical quality. Instead of scenes that seem like the everyday world, the dream takes you to a place that feels ancient, from another time, or like a fairy tale. You find yourself in a legendary place like Baghdad in the time ot genies, magic carpets, and magicians. Another sign is that things are bigger than life or smaller than life.
These manifestations of the great archetypes show up in the dreams of ordinary mortals. Each of us is a channel through which these archetypal forces must find their way into concrete existence. We incarnate the archetypes with our physical lives Our individual lives are the containers in which they materialize on the face of the earth, the battlegrounds where they fight their eternal, cosmic battles, the stages on which they perform the uni- versal drama that becomes, in one particularized form, every hu- man life.
Once we recognize that a figure is an archetype, the next step is to go to the myths and other sources where the same archetype appears. The figure or events in your dream may spark a memory of a passage in the Bible or a great tale from the days of King Ar- thur. You go to that source and see what it tells you about this great archetype that has come to you in your dream.
What are its characteristics? What is its role in human life? If it is the Great Mother, for example, you go to the myths of the Greek goddesses who personify her, to the manifestations of Kali, to the varied epi- phanies of the Holy Virgin. As you amplify the information on your dream figure, you con- tinue what you have already done with your personal associations: Write down the associations that come to you from the mythical sources.
If they elicit energy from inside you, if they make sense, try them out. See what they have to say about who you are and what forces are at work in you. Many people unthinkingly turn to a dictionary of symbols each time they try to understand a dream. No dream symbol can be separated from the mdi vidual who dreams it Each individual varies so much in the way that his unconscious complements or compensates his conscious mind that it is impossible to be sure how far dreams and their symbols can be classi- fied at all.
It is true that there are dreams and single symbols I should prefer to call them "motifs" that are typical and often occur. Among such motifs are falling, flying,. Man and His Symbols, p. Every symbol in your dream has a special, individual connota- tion that belongs to you alone, just as the dream is ultimately yours alone.
Even when a symbol has a collective or universal meaning, it still has a personal coloration for you and can be fully explained only from within you. This is why it is so important that you do this first step thor- oughly. Find the associations that are yours, that come from your own unconscious. Don't accept standardized interpretations as a substitute. The archetype is present in me. That is a symbol of the Great M er. We have to push further. What does this have to do with me, individually? When the unconscious uses a symbol, it inherently con- tains within itself the meaning of the symbol.
It already knows its own reference to the symbol. Therefore, if you pursue your per- sonal associations to the dream image, the unconscious will, soon- er or later, produce the archetypal connections that apply. Nevertheless, it is a great aid to know what the symbol has meant to others, and how it has appeared in collective myths and folktales. This knowledge can shorten the process. It can also act as confirmation of the personal associations that spring spontane- ously out of you.
Step Two: Dynamics In the second step we connect each dream image to a soerifi, a namic in our inner lives. The reason for making this connection is a fundamental one- We need to figure out what is going on inside ourselves that is reiy resented by the situation in the dream. If we could not tie the dream to specific events, feelings, or other dynamics in our lives the dream would be pointless. It would be mere entertainment. To perform this step, we go back to the beginning and deal with each image, one at a time. For each image ask: "What part of me is that? Where have I seen it functioning in my life lately?
Where do I see that same trait in my personality? Who is it, inside me, who feels like that or behaves like that? By inner dynamics we mean anything that goes on inside you, any energy system that lives and acts from within you. It may be an emotional event, such as a surge of anger. It may be an inner con- flict, an inner personality acting through you, a feeling, an atti- tude, a mood.
Suppose we are working with this dream in which the word blue came up. You write all your associations with that word, and the one that "clicks" for you is depression— bad mood, having Jthe blues. Where am blue? Where have I been depressed? And we need to find specific examples. We'are new ft" ished with this step until we find actual examples from our I that correspond to the events in the dream.
IVes We also need to keep writing. There was an old tradition in th Christian Church that one had not prayed unless one's lip S had moved. This idea expresses a psychological truth: Somethi physical has to happen. This is why it is so important that you write your examples down on paper. When you physically write those examples, the connections with your dream become clear and definite. We sometimes express it by asking if the dream is to be taken "inwardly.
Dreams usually speak of the evolution of forces inside us, the conflicts of values and viewpoints there, the different un- conscious energy systems that are trying to be heard, trying to find their way into our conscious lives. The overall subject of our dreams is, ultimately, the inner pro- cess of individuation. Most dreams, in one way or another, are portrayals of our individual journeys toward wholeness. They show us the stages along the way — the adventures, obstacles, con- flicts, and reconciliations that lead finally to a sense of the self. Every dream, in some way, either shows our effort to integrate some unconscious part of ourselves into consciousness or our re- sistance against the inner self, the ways we set up conflict with it rather than learn from it.
This is the primary subject that our dreams are reporting on, and this is what we should look for in our dreams. The true significance of the inner world becomes more clear hen we begin to realize that almost everything we do everv re? It is on the inner level that you can change life-patterns most profoundly; it is at the inner level that your dream is usually aimed. There are a few dreams — they appear once in a great while — that are directed at something outside the dreamer and don't have anything to do directly with the dreamer's inner life.
Sometimes people dream of great battles or disasters just before a war breaks out. Sometimes a person dreams of something happening to a friend or relative who is a great distance away, and later discovers that the event actually took place in the other person's life. As ; general rule, however, symbols in a dream turn out to apply to the dreamer's own interior life. So, that is the best assumption to work from. I remember a patient who came to me with a dream in which his friend drove at a crazy speed and crashed into a building. He feared that the dream foretold a car accident; he wondered if he should warn his friend.
I told him that it was most likely that the dream used the image of his friend to symbolize an inflation in n. Start by assuming that your dream represents an inner i namic, and work with it on that basis. Later, if it turns out that If dream does refer to an external situation, adjust your intern C tion accordingly. It makes more sense to start off with that assumption, therefore; otherwise, you are liable to miss the main import of your dream. Second, we have to compensate for our collective prejudice in favor of the external world. The only way we can do this is to force ourselves, in a disciplined way, to look for the inner mean- ing of the dream.
As soon as we start to apply the dream to our external lives, we get lost in speculations about people we know and all the situations we are involved with; we never get back to exploring the real subject: the situation inside that is creating the situation outside. Even when our dreams make some direct comment on an exter- nal situation, you may assume that there is an inner dynamic in- volved. In some way, your relationship to that external person or situation is being affected by some fantasy that has seized you, some inner attitude that dominates you, some belief or ideal in your inner mind.
It is fruitless to waste your time trying to understand an exter- nal situation unless you also identify the psychological patterns within you that affect it. And it is toward those patterns that your dreams usually point. Still, people often get confused over this issue, because the un- conscious has the habit of borrowing images from the external situ- ation and using those images to symbolize something that is going on inside the dreamer. Your dream may borrow the image of your next-door neighbor, your spouse, or your parent and use that im- age to refer to something inside you.
It happens that his wife is an open-minded person with flexible, inquisitive intelligence who is interested in other peo- Vs viewpoints. By using his wife as a symbol, the dream tries to wake him up to possibility within himself. The natural reaction is to think: "Since my wife is in this dream, it is obviously talking about my wife or about my relation- ship to my wife. The dream is most likely to use the image of the wife to represent a quality in the dreamer, a conflict in the dreamer, or something evolving in him that has little to do, directly, with his external wife.
In this situation the dreamer has several things to understand: First, he needs to see that he has an inner wife, who is distinct from his outer wife and lives in the inner world and is a part of him. Then, he needs to stop blaming his physical wife for his con- flicts with his inner wife — which turn out to be conflicts within himself.
Finally, he needs to take his inner wife, his inner femi- nine, seriously. He needs to try to understand what part of himself she represents and what it is that she is trying to communicate to him. We have to recognize that dreams are intricate tapestries of symbolism, and each image represents something go- ing on within our own selves. Sometimes the urge to take the image literally is overwhelm- ln g. How would you describe his or her ch and personality?
We all have a set of fundamental characteristics from which ev- erything else in our personalities derive: These basics include our feelings, belief systems, attitudes, and patterns of behavior and the values we adhere to. All these traits show up in our dreams and can be identified if we look for them.
Every dream is a portrait of the dreamer. You may think of your dream as a mirror that reflects your inner character — the aspects of your personality of which you are not fully aware. Once we un- derstand this, we can also see that every trait portrayed in our dreams has to exist in us, somewhere, regardless of whether we are aware of it or admit it. Whatever characteristics the dream figures have, whatever behavior they engage in, is also true of the dreamer in some way.
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By this, I don't mean that the trait or behavior shown in the dream is literally true of the dreamer exactly as it is portrayed in the dream.