The symbolic meaning of hair is both personal and cultural. It serves as an expressive medium through which we silently communicate. Sporting bed-head might convey a carefree attitude, while a polished prom-night hairstyle expresses maturity. Hair carries various announcements to our community. Its historical significance reveals ancient values that continue to influence our self-presentation. It is a malleable medium. Unlike body parts such as fingers or feet, it constantly grows, allowing for continuous transformation, and it resists decay. These universal attributes make hair an archetype. Haircuts often feature in rites of passage, like a baby’s first trim, symbolizing a transition from innocence to cultural accommodation. Since hair grows directly from our bodies, it’s seen as an immortal extension of one’s self; imbued with primal magic, it retains its form on mummies or in lockets. Voluntary hair removal can signify sacrifice, as seen with monks and nuns shaving their heads to submit to religious constraints and a return to purity. Conversely, uncut, untamed hair represents casting off sexual restraints and embracing instincts, as observed during the 1960s Hippie movement. Depending on the era, body hair has been perceived as virtuous or demonic. Early 20th-century beauty standards associated minimal body hair with femininity and high moral character, while substantial beards indicated masculine virility. In various cultures, hair possesses spiritual power. Samson’s uncut hair connected him to God and, when removed, left him helpless. Hair has also denoted status and roles throughout history; Samurai hair knots commanded respect, Roman women wore wigs to display wealth, and medieval women let their hair flow freely to indicate marital availability. From vibrant punk rock mohawks to a baby’s soft curls, from intricate Mesopotamian royal braids to beehive hairdos, hair continues to captivate us. It speaks on our behalf and changes along with psyche.

HERE’S THE DREAM WE ANALYZE:

“I am in the garden of the house where I grew up, looking at a huge blooming flower bed with my mother, who is telling me how to garden while she is away for some time with my father. It is an extremely hot summer day, and she wants me to remember to eat the ripe oranges and yellow tomatoes. When I first look at the tomatoes, I think some of them are rotten, but it tums out that they are perfectly ripe. She also wants me to replant a blackberry bush, which I do immediately. I go inside the house, up the staircase, and get frightened. Suddenly a weird little creature (knee height) crawls up the staircase after me. It is black and has a tiny faceless head on a broader body. I know it is a mutated blackberry. It reaches out for me and begins to crawl my leg, I kick it down, but it keeps coming. It is needy and begins to lick my leg like a tiny dog. It wants me to take care of it, but I don’t want it to depend on me. Finally, I feel desperate and call for my mother’s help.”

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