Inspired by Carl Jung and Tokopa

Dancing with the Dreaming Mind: Carl Jung & the Language of the Subconscious

You know that feeling when a dream clings to your skin long after you've opened your eyes? When the symbols follow you like curious animals, as if they’re not finished speaking? Carl Jung would say—good. That’s the language of the subconscious, whispering through the veil, asking us to listen.

To Jung, the subconscious wasn't some dusty basement full of repressed memories and shameful secrets. No, he saw it more like a lush, ancient forest: full of archetypes, symbols, wild instincts, and hidden treasures. He called it the unconscious, but I like to think of it as the dreaming mind—the part of us that is ancient, wise, and a little feral.

Jung believed we’re not just walking around as tidy little egos with calendars and opinions—we’re also carrying an entire mythic library inside of us. The subconscious, to him, wasn’t separate from life. It spills into our relationships, our art, our health, our ‘weird little habits.’ It speaks in metaphor, song, dreams, synchronicity. It doesn’t care for logic, but it’s never illogical—it’s poetic. It can even have a sense of humor as my dreams often do.

And if you’ve ever followed a hunch that made no sense but turned out to be exactly right—you’ve already been in conversation with it.

The Inner Cast of Characters

Jung introduced us to the “archetypes,” these ancient blueprints of the human experience. The Mother. The Shadow. The Trickster. The Wise Old One. They live in what he called the collective unconscious—a shared psychic inheritance from all who’ve come before us. You could say we’re not just individuals trying to figure things out—we’re also vessels for these eternal roles, these primordial dream-figures who want to live through us.

But—and here’s the tricky part—they don’t just show up when it’s convenient.

They come in dreams, in patterns, in breakdowns that are really breakthroughs. They come disguised as the very thing we’re trying to avoid. They come to remind us we’re not broken—we’re mythic. We’re in a story much bigger than the one we think we’re living.

The Shadow & the Spell

One of Jung’s most potent gifts was showing us the importance of the Shadow—all the parts of ourselves we’ve exiled to the basement because someone once told us they were too much, too dark, too tender, too loud.

But the Shadow doesn’t disappear just because we pretend it’s not there. It just shows up in other people. (Ever had a very strong reaction to someone? Hello, projection!)

Jung’s approach wasn’t to banish the Shadow—but to befriend it. To say: I see you. What do you want me to know?

This is where Tokopa Turner’s voice echoes in my ear—reminding us that belonging isn’t just about being accepted by others. It’s about becoming a home for the exiled parts of ourselves. Integration, not perfection.

The Invitation

So, what does Jung teach us, really?

That we are not just conscious minds trying to control life. We are vast, mysterious beings in constant conversation with something greater. That healing isn’t about fixing—it’s about remembering. Returning. Listening.

The subconscious is not a problem to solve—it’s a garden to tend. A dream to honor. A dance to join, even if you don’t know the steps.

Next time you have a dream that stays with you, or a symbol keeps showing up, or your soul feels itchy with something unnamed—pause. Don’t rush past it. Get curious. Write it down. Talk to it. Let it talk back.

Because as Jung knew, and Tokopa reminds us: what is in the way is the way. The soul doesn’t speak in straight lines. It speaks in spirals, in poetry, in paradox.

And the subconscious? It's not beneath you.
It's within you. Calling you home.