This article is part of a series exploring how psychotherapy helps heal early emotional wounds, especially those rooted in abandonment. Each piece follows one segment of a single, real-life case study, tracing the client’s journey through moments of struggle and insight.
The Orphancy Lens, Part4.
In the landscape of early emotional trauma, a child’s mind must solve an impossible math problem: How do I survive in a house where the “protector” is weak and the “provider” is dangerous? When a child is orphaned by a mother’s inability to protect them, they often experience a split in their identity. In Patricia’s dream, her unconscious seems to show her that to avoid being the “weak, starving cat” (the victim), she may subconsciously align with the “eater” —the internalized predator.
dream work in depth psychology
Patricia had been seeing her therapist, Dr. Liz Campbell, for two months now. A disturbing dream—a vision of herself eating a cat—was the first dream she would share with Dr. Campbell. Nervous, Patricia waited in the small waiting room, classical music playing softly in the background. What would Liz think? Would she see Patricia as evil and beyond help for dreaming of eating a defenseless animal? Patricia shuddered. Disgusting, she murmured to herself.
When Dr. Campbell opened her door, Patricia’s news about the dream spilled out. “You won’t believe what I dreamed!” she exclaimed, words tumbling over one another. “It was so gross, so disgusting!”
Dr. Campbell’s eyes widened in surprise as she greeted Patricia warmly. “Do tell all!” she encouraged.
Patricia moved toward the sofa in Dr. Campbell’s office and awkwardly sank into its plump cushions. Liz sat opposite, leaning forward with anticipation. As Patricia recounted the dream, Dr. Campbell listened attentively, nodding here and there, murmuring encouraging words.
When Patricia finished, she closed her eyes, afraid of Dr. Campbell’s reaction. The clock ticked. Moments passed.
Finally, Patricia opened her eyes. Liz was waiting with a reassuring smile.
“What do you make of the dream?” Dr. Campbell asked. Her voice held no judgment. “Right after you woke up—what did you feel or think?”
Patricia cast her mind back to that night. She tried to recall as much as she could: the immediate surge of nausea, the disbelief, the lingering unease that clung to her for days. She described it all—the horror of seeing herself do something so grotesque, the shame that it had come from inside her own mind.
“It still feels disgusting,” she concluded. “I don’t even want to believe it came from me.” She looked at Liz imploringly. “I want to know what you think it means.”
dreams: images from the unconscious
“May I tell you a little about how we approach dreams in depth psychology?” Dr. Campbell asked.
“Yes, please,” Patricia replied, the tension in her voice loosening just slightly. Somehow, Liz had a way of diffusing her shame. Even now, as Patricia watched for a flicker of revulsion, there was none. Dr. Campbell looked calm, interested—unfazed.
“For starters,” Liz began, “we think of dreams as images from the unconscious. The figures and events in a dream often represent parts of yourself that you’re not yet aware of.”
Patricia nodded slowly, absorbing the idea.
“Different dreams serve different purposes,” Liz continued. “Some are compensatory—balancing out something in your conscious life. Others are more urgent, like messengers. Our task is to try and understand what your psyche is trying to show you.”
Patricia leaned in.
“One important thing,” Liz added, “is that in this approach, you are the expert on your dreams. I might offer archetypal interpretations—meanings that tend to show up across cultures and histories—but even those are only helpful if they resonate with you.”
This last point seemed to matter. Patricia felt herself exhale. The shame didn’t disappear, but it loosened its grip. The dream might still be disturbing—but maybe it wasn’t a verdict. Maybe it was a message.
“In dream work, the dreamer
the third eve
becomes the expert on her own dreams,
rather than looking to the analyst
to decode what belongs uniquely to her.”
the child’s sorrow
“So every part of that dream was probably a part of myself?” Patricia asked.
Dr. Campbell nodded. “Even the you who was eating the cat.”
Patricia stared. “Even that?”
Another nod from Dr. Campbell. “Yes—most especially. I’m curious about how strongly you react to that image. Can you tell me more about what makes it so upsetting?” She reached for her pen and notepad.
Patricia rolled her eyes. “You seriously don’t get why I’m grossed out by the idea of eating a cat?” she exclaimed.
Dr. Campbell laughed, shrugging playfully as if baffled.
Patricia couldn’t help chuckling, too. “Well, for one, I hate cats,” she admitted. “But in the dream, this one was different. It was scared, scrawny, obviously starving. I felt… sorry for it. But I also felt like I had to do it. Like there was no other choice.” She paused. “It was dark. I was chasing it down alleys. Fog everywhere.”
“As quickly as you can, free associate—tell me what comes to mind when you think of cats,” Dr. Campbell said.
“Purina Cat Chow. Nine lives. Survivors. Gray. Skinny. Weak. Breakable. Unreliable. Picky. Dishonest.” Patricia blinked. The words had spilled out almost without thinking. “Wow,” she murmured. “That’s how I feel about the gray cat?”
“Do those associations remind you of anyone in your life?” Dr. Campbell asked with quiet understanding.
A ripple of anxiety moved across Patricia’s face, followed by recognition. “My mother,” she said. “That’s her. All of it—except the cat food.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because it’s just… true. She was a survivor—but weak at the same time. So fragile. And dishonest. She lied to us kids all the time. She said she’d change. That she’d leave my dad. That she’d protect us.”
Her voice lowered. “She never did.”
Dr. Campbell nodded, her tone softening. “And you’re sad.”
Tears welled up in Patricia’s eyes. “Oh my God. Yes. Yes.”
But just as the emotion rose, she pulled back. “Stop it,” she said out loud, her lips tightening into a familiar, determined line.
“It’s not okay to cry?” Dr. Campbell asked quietly.
the child’s rage
“Oh, it’s okay, sure,” Patricia said, her tone bitter. “But it doesn’t change anything. My mom cried all the time, and it never changed a damn thing.”
“You’re feeling angry?”
“Damn straight!” Patricia snapped. “For God’s sake—she was the mother! It was her job to fucking protect us, but she was so damn weak, she couldn’t protect herself, let alone anyone else!”
Dr. Campbell nodded thoughtfully. “So who took care of you?”
“I did!” Patricia’s voice rose sharply. “I took care of myself, and I was just a fucking CHILD!”
“You’re mad. And you have every reason to be,” Dr. Campbell affirmed.
“I’m FURIOUS!” Patricia shouted. “FURIOUS!”
But as quickly as the rage crested, laughter burst from her mouth.
Dr. Campbell raised an eyebrow, surprised but curious. “What just happened?”
“‘Furious’… ‘furrious’… ‘furry us,’” Patricia laughed. “See? It’s the cat! The cat was furry.”
She leaned in. “We were all kind of like my mother, weren’t we? Weak, dishonest, breakable, foggy. All gray instead of living in color—because of my dad. Because it was too scary to be alive around him. He was always drunk, always flying into rages. It wasn’t safe. It was like… like being in a fog all the time.”
“And so?” Dr. Campbell prompted.
“And… and I…” Patricia faltered.
the fertile void
“Where are you right now?” Dr. Campbell asked softly.
“I just drew a blank,” Patricia admitted. “Something about the dream made sense—just for a second—and then I lost it.”
“Go with the feeling,” Dr. Campbell encouraged. “You were angry. You were afraid. You were in a fog…”
“Oh!” Patricia’s face lit up. “Yes, that’s it. All this rage…”
But just as quickly, the energy drained from her. Something important hovered just beyond reach—she knew it—but now it was gone.
She looked at Dr. Campbell, helpless. Wordless.
“Let’s go with the solution your dream gave you—the one at the end—and see where it takes us,” Dr. Campbell suggested.
“What? You mean me eating the cat?” Patricia shuddered.
“Yes. What does it mean—to eat something?”
Patricia looked up at the ceiling. “You eat it. It goes inside you. It’s raw, it’s disgusting, it’s terrible. But you eat it, and it becomes part of you.” She paused. “You keep what you need… and you get rid of the rest.”
A strange sensation rose in her chest—a warmth expanding upward, as if something long frozen had begun to thaw and rise toward the surface.
“Patricia,” Dr. Campbell breathed, “that’s big. That’s… something. What do you think now?”
“I felt all that rage. That rage reminds me of my dad. And the cat… the cat is my mom.” Patricia’s voice was quiet but steady. “So if I’m eating the cat, it’s like I’m a monster, devouring her—the bad parts, yes, but the good parts too. And now… I carry it all inside me.”
“And the bad?” Dr. Campbell asked. “Her bad parts. Your father’s. Maybe even your own?”
Patricia looked at her warily. “What do you mean?”
“Is it possible,” Dr. Campbell asked, “that your way of surviving was to take in the rage—to identify with your dad—and at the same time, hate him for it? So you can’t ever really love yourself. Not the real you. Not the child who was weak, fragile, breakable—all the things your mother was, too. You’ve had to leave that child behind.”
Patricia’s eyes brimmed again. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes. I saw it before. Right before I blanked out. I can’t stand weakness.”
Dr. Campbell leaned forward, smiling with encouragement, “You know that moment when everything just goes blank?” she asked. “We actually have a name for that—it’s called mind-blanking. It usually happens when your regular stream of thoughts goes quiet for a bit. And honestly, it’s not a bad thing. It’s like your deeper mind is asking for space to sort something out—like hitting a reset button.”
She added, “What matters is, you didn’t run from it. You stayed with it. You let your wise self speak. And look at what you uncovered.”
Her voice softened. “This is important, Patricia. You did powerful work today. I’m grateful you brought this dream—and that you had the courage to stay with it and explore what it had to show you.”
“These blank states create inner space
the third eve
for deeper parts of ourselves to
work behind the scenes.”
the child’s hope
Dr. Campbell handed Patricia a box of tissues as soft tears began to fall. Patricia felt like she might never stop crying. Occasionally, shame flickered as the tears streamed down her face, so she buried her face in her hands. Yet somehow, Dr. Campbell remained calm and wholly accepting. Gradually, Patricia’s shame and embarrassment started to ease.
“This is why you’re here, my dear,” Dr. Campbell said, her voice warm and steady. “Because you were just a little girl who needed parents she could trust and rely on—and you didn’t have that. You had to grow up so fast, take care of your sister and baby brother, even care for your mom. That’s a lot for any child. No wonder you identified with your father. But now, you’re in a safe enough place that your inner self—your trustworthy guide—can begin to show you parts of the map back home.”
“A dream is a map?” Patricia asked, her voice softer, curiosity growing.
“Kind of,” Dr. Campbell replied. “It doesn’t show you exactly where you’re going, but it points to how you might get there. Next time, we’ll see if other dreams or moments that stir you up give you more clues. Together, we’ll figure out the path your wise self is setting you on.”
Patricia stood impulsively and threw her arms around Dr. Campbell in a bear hug. Dr. Campbell hugged her back warmly.
“Thank you!” Patricia exclaimed. “Thank you so much! I feel better—even though I’m still confused and upset about the dream and everything. But somehow, I felt like I could face it here. For the first time in my life, I feel like maybe—”
“Maybe what?” Dr. Campbell encouraged gently.
“Maybe I could be a good person someday,” Patricia said quietly.
featured art
rick rothenberg, “pattern four,“ 2009
in session: tales of transformation
- Intro: An Introduction to Tales of Transformation
- In Session, Part 1: Considering Adoption
- In Session, Part 2: Client and Therapist Meet
- In Session, Part 3: Message in Blood
- In Session, Part 4: Dream Work
- In Session, Part 5: The Analyst is Analyzed
- In Session, Part 6: Deliverance
- In Session, Part 7: Disconnected
- In Session, Part 8: Termination
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE
This case study is based on real-life therapy work and reflects the emotional and psychological truths of the process. To protect the privacy of those involved, all names and identifying details have been changed.
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