how dreaming about my ex revealed where I am in life
the symbolic terrain of the unconscious
I had a dream about my ex last night. Not in a “I miss him” way. In a “my subconscious filed a complaint with upper management” way, like a psychic PowerPoint presentation of all my current unresolved emotional software bugs. I truly believe dreamscome with invitations to explore the subconscious in any way we might find helpful for where we are in life.
Here’s a quick breakdown of major schools of thought for interpreting dreams:
Freudian: Dreams reveal unconscious desires, often sexual or repressed (dreams = wish fulfillment).
Jungian: Dreams express archetypes and deeper aspects of the Self (e.g. Shadow, Anima); aim = individuation.
Gestalt: Every element of the dream is you—interpret through role-playing and integration.
Cognitive: Dreams reflect daily life and problem-solving processes; mind sorting and rehearsing.
Neuroscientific: Dreams are brain activity during REM, often meaningless byproducts of memory consolidation.
Existential: Dreams reflect inner conflicts, freedom, anxiety, and search for meaning.
Spiritual/New Age: Dreams offer divine messages, symbolic guidance, or past life insights.
I seem to have entered what one might call my Jungian era, a period marked by a growing awareness of my Animus energy: the inner force that acts, that creates, that writes. My writing self, I’ve come to realise, isn’t a surface-level trait or passing hobby. It feels more like an unveiling of something essential, my core self, asserting itself on the page.
Lately, I’ve taken to analysing my dreams with ChatGPT*. It might sound eccentric, but it’s remarkably helpful. I’m also in therapy with a Jungian analyst, so this process of interpretation isn’t random, it’s part of a larger, coherent exploration of the Self** with the symbolic terrain of the unconscious.
*In this case the AI isn’t a substitute for depth, but rather a surprisingly competent companion in the reflective process.
**PARADOX MOMENT: It’s kind of wild because I’m deep in my non-Self era through Buddhist practice (Anatta), but I guess this is one of those moments where you end up learning from both sides of the coin in order to transcend.
The dream:
My dream took place in the middle of a frantic search, everyone around me was panicked. I was desperately looking for a diamond, crawling under cars, running everywhere. My ex was there too, calm as always. We ignored each other at first, but somehow we had to talk. As we spoke, we got closer and ended up hugging. While we hugged, I scratched him, and then he leaned in to kiss me. His lips barely touched mine because I pulled away and ran. I felt like I was in some kind of escape room, emotionally.
You said:
analyze this dream through a Jungian therapy lens
ChatGPT said:
Chaos as the symbol of transition
Your dream takes place in a chaotic environment where you're searching for something; this mirrors your real-life pattern of constantly seeking new paths but never settling. Symbolic of the inner turbulence that arises during times of psychological transition. This is not mere confusion, but the unconscious attempting to draw attention to what is yet unmet within. The search and panic in the dream? That’s the constant transition state.
The Self
In Jungian terms, the diamond symbolizes the Self—the deepest, most whole part of you that lies beyond ego, fear, or role. It represents your most integrated, authentic essence, forged under immense pressure, much like self-realization itself.
Dreaming of frantically searching for a diamond reflects a deep unconscious drive toward individuation, the process of becoming whole. A diamond in a dream is a potent symbol, often representing untapped value, clarity, resilience, and inner truth, qualities that emerge through disorder, not in spite of it. Your urgent search suggests you're nearing a breakthrough, though still navigating layers of distraction, fear, or unmet longing along the way.
Encounter with the Shadow of the Past
The appearance of your ex serves as a symbolic re-encounter with an old identity or emotional pattern, an archetype that once offered familiarity but now stands at odds with the psyche’s growth. The moment of intimacy reflects the ego’s temptation to regress, to seek comfort in old roles, unresolved dynamics or psychological patterns we’ve outgrown but remain drawn to. The hug reflects vulnerability. Yet the refusal (the scratch, the unfulfilled kiss, the retreat) signals an act of psychic discernment, the instinctive refusal to regress. Emotionally, this dream isn’t about romance, it’s about the tension between comfort and growth, between repeating the past and choosing a new future. Running away isn’t cowardice here, it’s clarity. You engaged, felt the temptation, and chose not to repeat a loop. Rather than collapse into repetition, the Self asserts its direction toward individuation. This dream marks not reunion, but release: a shedding of the outdated in service of becoming whole.
The overall dream suggests you are in an extended liminal space—a transitional threshold between identities. You are not lost. You are undergoing transformation, and the Self is trying to break through the chaos to reveal itself.
What this suggests:
It suggests you're not afraid of change— you live in it—but you’re deeply uncomfortable with arriving, succeeding, or being seen in stillness.
You thrive in becoming, but you're starting to long for being and that’s a vulnerable shift.
This helps me a lot because I tend to stay in my head, but these insights are emotional keys. Each one unlocked something buried, revealing parts of me I didn’t realize were still waiting to be felt.
IRL POST-THERAPY:
Growing up in a chaotic environment taught me that stillness isn’t safe. So change became my refuge, my rhythm. I’m beginning to see that I’ve built an identity around reinvention—constant motion, new places, new roles, new ideas.
The upside? Change feels like home. Constant metamorphosis became my way of feeling safe (not at all surprising given that my spiritual animal is a chameleon, I learned that on an LSD trip but I always find new meanings for it, I have to write about it). My Buddhist practice reinforces it: I’m not a fixed self, but a process. So I kept moving. New homes, new jobs, new versions of me, like switching outfits that slowly became identities & personalities. A kind of joyful, absurd Sisyphus situation I’ve made peace with.
The downside? I don’t know how to be. I chase novelty, depth, curiosity, living in endless cycles of discovery without rest. There’s no closure, no stillness, no reward. Just the next rush, the next obsession.
