Baba Yaga’s House
I had a recurring dream again last night, one that has become increasingly familiar yet remains unsettling. In this dream, I find myself in a severely dilapidated house that I somehow perceive as my own, though its decrepit condition makes it difficult to recognize. The house is empty except for a single wooden kitchen table with two chairs. In the far side of the kitchen, a dark hallway stretches toward the back of the house, its pitch-black interior suggesting an uncharted mystery. Inside, I encounter a figure resembling the Slavic folkloric witch, Baba Yaga. I sit across from her, and we engage in a conversation. Though it begins civilly, the exchange inevitably escalates into confrontation as I attempt to expel her from the house. At this point, I typically wake up.
Curiously, I experience this dream in the third person, which adds an additional layer of strangeness. My wife has observed that, during these dreams, I whimper, appear on the verge of tears, and sometimes even speak in what sounds like gibberish. She describes these sounds as enunciated so clearly that it almost resembles a familiar language. While I do not feel fear within the dream and do not wake up terrified, its outward effects seem to mimic a nightmare from her perspective. I have also experienced sleep paralysis connected to this dream—or perhaps during the transition between dreaming and wakefulness—where I am fully conscious but cannot move. In these instances, I feel an intense weight on my chest, as though a hundred pounds is pressing down, immobilizing me. I am aware of my surroundings, seeing my bedroom and my wife beside me, yet I cannot move or speak.
MY INTERPRETATION-
Analyzing the house, I believe it is "mine" because I do not experience any sense of displacement within it. While it may not resemble my actual home in reality, the space feels familiar. I suspect it likely represents my subconscious or psyche, or at least a part of it.
As for the witch, she is more challenging to interpret. I identify her as Baba Yaga for two main reasons. First, her appearance aligns with traditional depictions of a witch, dressed in what I imagine as old Slavic peasant clothing. Second, she speaks English with a heavy Russian accent. Baba Yaga, whose name translates roughly to "grandmother witch," is traditionally seen as a fearsome figure, particularly for children. However, she is not merely a fairy-tale bogeywoman; she also serves as a kind of guide, standing at the threshold between the known and the unknown. In folklore, she often poses questions and riddles, serving as a gatekeeper between realms, allowing people to pass only if they prove themselves worthy. While sometimes portrayed as malevolent, preying on travelers and children, she is equally depicted as a wise figure, aiding those who approach her with cleverness and respect.
This duality presents an intriguing question: is she an adversary I am trying to remove, or a gatekeeper blocking my path until I resolve something within myself? As I attempt to expel her from the house, she stands her ground, as if it belongs to her. Although I rarely recall much of our conversation, in every dream, I end up shouting at her to leave, insisting that she does not belong there. Her response is always the same: "You opened the door and let me in."
I wonder what unresolved issue I am struggling with, as I am never able to move past her or remove her from the house to explore the back hallway.
Regarding the external appearance of fear—my wife hearing me whimper and seeing me on the verge of tears, though I feel no such fear internally—I find this especially perplexing. I have always processed fear differently from others, often experiencing what I would call an unusually low response to things that might typically evoke fear. I suspect that, subconsciously, I am expressing something profound through this interaction, but in my waking life, I lack the language or emotions to fully articulate it. This dissonance likely manifests as fear externally, and the gibberish I sometimes speak may simply be a physical expression of the dialogue between myself and the witch.
