Dream Story Time: The Pig Under The Floorboards

I was inside of my quaint little house, warmed by a big brick fireplace. I wore a beautiful, red kimono-style robe, flowing and soft against my skin. A longtime client named Linda came to visit. When I opened the door, I noticed the yard outside looked unkept. A broken-down, abandoned police car was rammed up against a tree — as if it had been sitting there for ages. Once inside, Linda was enamored with the luxurious jewels I had on display in a lighted glass case. I smiled and told her how grateful I was for them — gifts sent to me by people I had worked with from all over the world.

Then suddenly, Linda stopped. She bent down and put her finger into a tiny opening in my alderwood floors. Before I could ask what she was doing, she pried up a floorboard. In an instant, a huge, violent pig burst out from underneath the floor, storming through my home and toppling the jewelry case — scattering my jewels everywhere inside.

And then I woke up.

The Breakdown: What This Dream Revealed

1. The House — My Inner Temple
   In my dreams the house is symbolic for myself — my body, energy field, spiritual dwelling place or family foundation if it’s a home from my childhood. In this particular one, my house is warm, elegant, peaceful — showing that my inner world has matured into comfort, stability, and luxury of spirit.

2. The Unkept Yard and Abandoned Police Car

   This represented old energies lingering at the edge of my energy field — things that no longer matched the woman I have become. The broken down police car symbolized authority and protection that I felt failed me during my childhood. I see it as abandonment of security. Because the car was old, it let me know it was an ancestral, long-standing wound (“been there for ages”) related to not being protected, believed, or defended in earlier life or generationally.

3. The Jewels — Gifts of Spirit and Earned Wisdom

   The jewels are luminous: they represent my spiritual gifts, my anointing, my spiritual wealth and worth that has been recognized by others. They are like sacred compensation for my service and growth. And because they were in a lighted case, the gifts were no longer hidden. They were visible and valued.

4. Linda — The Mirror of Compassion and Perspective
   What you have to know about Linda is that she’s the kind of friend who, no matter what I told her about something painful happening in my family, would always make light of it—as if it wasn’t that bad.
   
   I hated that.

   It wasn’t really intentional gaslighting though. She simply reflects a generation that learned to survive by downplaying pain—to say, “it wasn’t that bad” instead of acknowledging how deep the wound really went. That kind of response can feel deeply invalidating when pain is still raw.
   
   But in the dream, Linda isn’t there to minimize me. She’s the one who reveals what’s been buried within me. By pulling up the floorboard, she exposes what’s been festering beneath the layers of forced grace, compassion fatigue, and old disruption patterns that had haunted my foundation for years.

5. The Pig — The Unclean Spirit / Buried Wound

   Pigs always represent unclean or chaotic energies in my dreams — resentment, bitterness, or suppressed emotional debris. In this case, it was showing that everything was looking good and on display, but underneath there was chaos energy. It wasn’t visible, yet it was living in my energetic foundation, feeding on unprocessed emotions tied to a mother wound. Linda’s action — though disruptive — liberated that energy. It could no long hide beneath my beauty, peace, and success. The scattering of jewels represents temporary disruption of peace as deep healing occurs. But nothing was lost — my jewels weren’t destroyed, only dispersed, ready to be reclaimed once the clearing is complete.

The Integration: What This Dream Meant in My Real Life

When I woke up from this dream, I knew it wasn’t just about a pig or a floorboard. It was about the parts of me that had been silenced—the feelings I’d buried because they weren’t welcomed when I tried to express them.

For years, I’ve carried pain from my relationship with my mother, and whenever I tried to talk about it—especially with people her age, like Linda—I felt dismissed. It wasn’t intentional cruelty; it was just that “that’s your mother” mentality that tells you to honor pain instead of healing it. Every time I shared something real, it was smoothed over or spiritualized away. So those emotions stayed buried under the floorboards of my being, unacknowledged and unexpressed.

Linda’s visit in the dream wasn’t about her personally. She represented those moments when I tried to open up, only to have the conversation “covered back up.” But this time, in the dream, she didn’t cover it—she exposed it. She lifted the board, and what came out was wild, raw, and unclean because it had been trapped there for too long.

That pig was my unspoken pain—years of trying to be graceful, spiritual, and understanding when what I really needed was permission to be angry, hurt, and honest. The jewels scattered because deep healing often disrupts the peace we try to protect. But once I faced what was under there, I could reclaim every jewel with clearer energy and deeper gratitude.

This dream didn’t complete my deliverance—it initiated it. It showed me what had been buried beneath grace, beneath silence, beneath all the ways I tried to stay composed.

It revealed the unclean spirits of anger, silence, resentment, and suppression that had been living beneath my foundation—and it invited me to confront them.

That night was the beginning of a new kind of healing, one that would later lead me to bodywork, repentance, and the practice of self-deliverance.

The house—the self—wasn’t yet spotless, but I finally knew where to look. And for the first time in a long time, I can speak the truth about my mother without shaking.

With Sweet Water & Holy Fire,

This reflection shares my personal experience and understanding. It’s written for healing, and not for blame. May we all find peace and compassion with the stories of our pasts.