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diff --git a/old/66048-0.txt b/old/66048-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b1b3134..0000000 --- a/old/66048-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22179 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Interpretation of Dreams, by -Sigmund Freud - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Interpretation of Dreams - -Author: Sigmund Freud - -Commentator: A. A. Brill - -Release Date: August 12, 2021 [eBook #66048] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INTERPRETATION OF -DREAMS *** - - - - - - THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS - - - BY - - PROF. DR. SIGMUND FREUD, LL.D. - - AUTHORISED TRANSLATION OF THIRD EDITION WITH INTRODUCTION - - BY - - A. A. BRILL, PH.B., M.D. - - CHIEF OF THE NEUROLOGICAL DEPARTMENT OF THE BRONX HOSPITAL AND - DISPENSARY CLINICAL ASSISTANT IN NEUROLOGY AND PSYCHIATRY, COLUMBIA - UNIVERSITY FORMER ASSISTANT PHYSICIAN IN THE CENTRAL ISLIP STATE - HOSPITAL AND IN THE CLINIC OF PSYCHIATRY, ZÜRICH - - - “_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_” - - - NEW YORK - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1913 - - - - - INTRODUCTORY REMARKS - - -In attempting a discussion of the Interpretation of Dreams, I do not -believe that I have overstepped the bounds of neuropathological -interest. For, on psychological investigation, the dream proves to be -the first link in a chain of abnormal psychic structures whose other -links, the hysterical phobia, the obsession, and the delusion must, for -practical reasons, claim the interest of the physician. The dream (as -will appear) can lay no claim to a corresponding practical significance; -its theoretical value as a paradigm is, however, all the greater, and -one who cannot explain the origin of the dream pictures will strive in -vain to understand the phobias, obsessive and delusional ideas, and -likewise their therapeutic importance. - -But this relation, to which our subject owes its importance, is -responsible also for the deficiencies in the work before us. The -surfaces of fracture which will be found so frequently in this -discussion correspond to so many points of contact at which the problem -of the dream formation touches more comprehensive problems of -psychopathology, which cannot be discussed here, and which will be -subjected to future elaboration if there should be sufficient time and -energy, and if further material should be forthcoming. - -Peculiarities in the material I have used to elucidate the -interpretation of dreams have rendered this publication difficult. From -the work itself it will appear why all dreams related in the literature -or collected by others had to remain useless for my purpose; for -examples I had to choose between my own dreams and those of my patients -who were under psychoanalytic treatment. I was restrained from utilising -the latter material by the fact that in it the dream processes were -subjected to an undesirable complication on account of the intermixture -of neurotic characters. On the other hand, inseparably connected with my -own dreams was the circumstance that I was obliged to expose more of the -intimacies of my psychic life than I should like and than generally -falls to the task of an author who is not a poet but an investigator of -nature. This was painful, but unavoidable; I had to put up with the -inevitable in order not to be obliged to forego altogether the -demonstration of the truth of my psychological results. To be sure, I -could not at best resist the temptation of disguising some of my -indiscretions through omissions and substitutions, and as often as this -happened it detracted materially from the value of the examples which I -employed. I can only express the hope that the reader of this work, -putting himself in my difficult position, will show forbearance, and -also that all persons who are inclined to take offence at any of the -dreams reported will concede freedom of thought at least to the dream -life. - - - - - PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION - - -If there has arisen a demand for a second edition of this rather -difficult book before the end of the first decade, I owe no gratitude -to the interest of the professional circles to whom I appealed in the -preceding sentences. My colleagues in psychiatry, apparently, have -made no effort to shake off the first surprise which my new conception -of the dream evoked, and the professional philosophers, who are -accustomed to treat the problem of dream life as a part of the states -of consciousness, devoting to it a few—for the most part -identical—sentences, have apparently failed to observe that in this -field could be found all kinds of things which would inevitably lead -to a thorough transformation of our psychological theories. The -behaviour of the scientific critics could only justify the expectation -that this work of mine was destined to be buried in oblivion; and the -small troop of brave pupils who follow my leadership in the medical -application of psychoanalysis, and also follow my example in analysing -dreams in order to utilise these analyses in the treatment of -neurotics, would not have exhausted the first edition of the book. I -therefore feel indebted to that wider circle of intelligent seekers -after truth whose co-operation has procured for me the invitation to -take up anew, after nine years, the difficult and in so many respects -fundamental work. - -I am glad to be able to say that I have found little to change. Here and -there I have inserted new material, added new views from my wider -experience, and attempted to revise certain points; but everything -essential concerning the dream and its interpretation, as well as the -psychological propositions derived from it, has remained unchanged: at -least, subjectively, it has stood the test of time. Those who are -acquainted with my other works on the Etiology and Mechanism of the -psychoneuroses, know that I have never offered anything unfinished as -finished, and that I have always striven to change my assertions in -accordance with my advancing views; but in the realm of the dream life I -have been able to stand by my first declarations. During the long years -of my work on the problems of the neuroses, I have been repeatedly -confronted with doubts, and have often made mistakes; but it was always -in the “interpretation of dreams” that I found my bearings. My numerous -scientific opponents, therefore, show an especially sure instinct when -they refuse to follow me into this territory of dream investigation. - -Likewise, the material used in this book to illustrate the rules of -dream interpretation, drawn chiefly from dreams of my own which have -been depreciated and outstripped by events, have in the revision shown a -persistence which resisted substantial changes. For me, indeed, the book -has still another subjective meaning which I could comprehend only after -it had been completed. It proved to be for me a part of my -self-analysis, a reaction to the death of my father—that is, to the most -significant event, the deepest loss, in the life of a man. After I -recognised this I felt powerless to efface the traces of this influence. -For the reader, however, it makes no difference from what material he -learns to value and interpret dreams. - - BERCHTESGADEN, Summer of 1908. - - - - - PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION - - -Whereas a period of nine years elapsed between the first and second -editions of this book, the need for a third edition has appeared after -little more than a year. I have reason to be pleased with this change; -but, just as I have not considered the earlier neglect of my work on the -part of the reader as a proof of its unworthiness, I am unable to find -in the interest manifested at present a proof of its excellence. - -The progress in scientific knowledge has shown its influence on the -_Interpretation of Dreams_. When I wrote it in 1899 the “Sexual -Theories” was not yet in existence, and the analysis of complicated -forms of psychoneuroses was still in its infancy. The interpretation of -dreams was destined to aid in the psychological analysis of the -neuroses, but since then the deeper understanding of the neuroses has -reacted on our conception of the dream. The study of dream -interpretation itself has continued to develop in a direction upon which -not enough stress was laid in the first edition of this book. From my -own experience, as well as from the works of W. Stekel and others, I -have since learned to attach a greater value to the extent and the -significance of symbolism in dreams (or rather in the unconscious -thinking). Thus much has accumulated in the course of this year which -requires consideration. I have endeavoured to do justice to this new -material by numerous insertions in the text and by the addition of -footnotes. If these supplements occasionally threaten to warp the -original discussion, or if, even with their aid, we have been -unsuccessful in raising the original text to the _niveau_ of our present -views, I must beg indulgence for the gaps in the book, as they are only -consequences and indications of the present rapid development of our -knowledge. I also venture to foretell in what other directions later -editions of the _Interpretation of Dreams_—in case any should be -demanded—will differ from the present one. They will have, on the one -hand, to include selections from the rich material of poetry, myth, -usage of language, and folk-lore, and, on the other hand, to treat more -profoundly the relations of the dream to the neuroses and to mental -diseases. - -Mr. Otto Rank has rendered me valuable service in the selection of the -addenda and in reading the proof sheets. I am gratefully indebted to him -and to many others for their contributions and corrections. - - VIENNA, Spring of 1911. - - - - - TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE - - -Since the appearance of the author’s _Selected Papers on Hysteria and -other Psychoneuroses_, and _Three Contributions to the Sexual -Theory_,[A] much has been said and written about Freud’s works. Some of -our readers have made an honest endeavour to test and utilise the -author’s theories, but they have been handicapped by their inability to -read fluently very difficult German, for only two of Freud’s works have -hitherto been accessible to English readers. For them this work will be -of invaluable assistance. To be sure, numerous articles on the Freudian -psychology have of late made their appearance in our literature;[B] but -these scattered papers, read by those unacquainted with the original -work, often serve to confuse rather than enlighten. For Freud cannot be -mastered from the reading of a few pamphlets, or even one or two of his -original works. Let me repeat what I have so often said: No one is -really qualified to use or to judge Freud’s psychoanalytic method who -has not thoroughly mastered his theory of the neuroses—_The -Interpretation of Dreams_, _Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory_, -_The Psychopathology of Everyday Life_, and _Wit and its Relation to the -Unconscious_, and who has not had considerable experience in analysing -the dreams and psychopathological actions of himself and others. That -there is required also a thorough training in normal and abnormal -psychology goes without saying. - -_The Interpretation of Dreams_ is the author’s greatest and most -important work; it is here that he develops his psychoanalytic -technique, a thorough knowledge of which is absolutely indispensable for -every worker in this field. The difficult task of making a translation -of this work has, therefore, been undertaken primarily for the purpose -of assisting those who are actively engaged in treating patients by -Freud’s psychoanalytic method. Considered apart from its practical aim, -the book presents much that is of interest to the psychologist and the -general reader. For, notwithstanding the fact that dreams have of late -years been the subject of investigation at the hands of many competent -observers, only few have contributed anything tangible towards their -solution; it was Freud who divested the dream of its mystery, and solved -its riddles. He not only showed us that the dream is full of meaning, -but amply demonstrated that it is intimately connected with normal and -abnormal mental life. It is in the treatment of the abnormal mental -states that we must recognise the most important value of dream -interpretation. The dream does not only reveal to us the cryptic -mechanisms of hallucinations, delusions, phobias, obsessions, and other -psychopathological conditions, but it is also the most potent instrument -in the removal of these.[C] - -I take this opportunity of expressing my indebtedness to Professor F. C. -Prescott for reading the manuscript and for helping me overcome the -almost insurmountable difficulties in the translation. - - A. A. BRILL. - - NEW YORK CITY. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. THE SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE ON THE PROBLEMS OF THE DREAM 1 - - II. METHOD OF DREAM INTERPRETATION: THE ANALYSIS OF A SAMPLE - DREAM 80 - - III. THE DREAM IS THE FULFILMENT OF A WISH 103 - - IV. DISTORTION IN DREAMS 113 - - V. THE MATERIAL AND SOURCES OF DREAMS 138 - - VI. THE DREAM-WORK 260 - - VII. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE DREAM ACTIVITIES 403 - - VIII. LITERARY INDEX 494 - - INDEX 501 - - - - - THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS - - - - - I - THE SCIENTIFIC LITERATURE ON THE PROBLEMS OF THE DREAM[D] - - -In the following pages I shall prove that there exists a psychological -technique by which dreams may be interpreted, and that upon the -application of this method every dream will show itself to be a senseful -psychological structure which may be introduced into an assignable place -in the psychic activity of the waking state. I shall furthermore -endeavour to explain the processes which give rise to the strangeness -and obscurity of the dream, and to discover through them the nature of -the psychic forces which operate, whether in combination or in -opposition, to produce the dream. This accomplished, my investigation -will terminate, as it will have reached the point where the problem of -the dream meets with broader problems, the solution of which must be -attempted through other material. - -I must presuppose that the reader is acquainted with the work done by -earlier authors as well as with the present status of the dream problem -in science, since in the course of this treatise I shall not often have -occasion to return to them. For, notwithstanding the effort of several -thousand years, little progress has been made in the scientific -understanding of dreams. This has been so universally acknowledged by -the authors that it seems unnecessary to quote individual opinions. One -will find in the writings indexed at the end of this book many -stimulating observations and plenty of interesting material for our -subject, but little or nothing that concerns the true nature of the -dream or that solves definitively any of its enigmas. Still less of -course has been transmitted to the knowledge of the educated laity. - -The first book in which the dream is treated as an object of psychology -seems to be that of Aristotle[1] (_Concerning Dreams and their -Interpretation_). Aristotle asserts that the dream is of demoniacal, -though not of divine nature, which indeed contains deep meaning, if it -be correctly interpreted. He was also acquainted with some of the -characteristics of dream life, _e.g._, he knew that the dream turns -slight sensations perceived during sleep into great ones (“one imagines -that one walks through fire and feels hot, if this or that part of the -body becomes slightly warmed”), which led him to conclude that dreams -might easily betray to the physician the first indications of an -incipient change in the body passing unnoticed during the day. I have -been unable to go more deeply into the Aristotelian treatise, because of -insufficient preparation and lack of skilled assistance. - -As every one knows, the ancients before Aristotle did not consider the -dream a product of the dreaming mind, but a divine inspiration, and in -ancient times the two antagonistic streams, which one finds throughout -in the estimates of dream life, were already noticeable. They -distinguished between true and valuable dreams, sent to the dreamer to -warn him or to foretell the future, and vain, fraudulent, and empty -dreams, the object of which was to misguide or lead him to -destruction.[E] This pre-scientific conception of the dream among the -ancients was certainly in perfect keeping with their general view of -life, which was wont to project as reality in the outer world that which -possessed reality only within the mind. It, moreover, accounted for the -main impression made upon the waking life by the memory left from the -dream in the morning, for in this memory the dream, as compared with the -rest of the psychic content, seems something strange, coming, as it -were, from another world. It would likewise be wrong to suppose that the -theory of the supernatural origin of dreams lacks followers in our own -day; for leaving out of consideration all bigoted and mystical -authors—who are perfectly justified in adhering to the remnants of the -once extensive realm of the supernatural until they have been swept away -by scientific explanation—one meets even sagacious men averse to -anything adventurous, who go so far as to base their religious belief in -the existence and co-operation of superhuman forces on the -inexplicableness of the dream manifestations (Haffner[32]). The validity -ascribed to the dream life by some schools of philosophy, _e.g._ the -school of Schelling, is a distinct echo of the undisputed divinity of -dreams in antiquity, nor is discussion closed on the subject of the -mantic or prophetic power of dreams. This is due to the fact that the -attempted psychological explanations are too inadequate to overcome the -accumulated material, however strongly all those who devote themselves -to a scientific mode of thought may feel that such assertions should be -repudiated. - -To write a history of our scientific knowledge of dream problems is so -difficult because, however valuable some parts of this knowledge may -have been, no progress in definite directions has been discernible. -There has been no construction of a foundation of assured results upon -which future investigators could continue to build, but every new author -takes up the same problems afresh and from the very beginning. Were I to -follow the authors in chronological order, and give a review of the -opinions each has held concerning the problems of the dream, I should be -prevented from drawing a clear and complete picture of the present state -of knowledge on the subject. I have therefore preferred to base the -treatment upon themes rather than upon the authors, and I shall cite for -each problem of the dream the material found in the literature for its -solution. - -But as I have not succeeded in mastering the entire literature, which is -widely disseminated and interwoven with that on other subjects, I must -ask my readers to rest content provided no fundamental fact or important -viewpoint be lost in my description. - -Until recently most authors have been led to treat the subjects of sleep -and dream in the same connection, and with them they have also regularly -treated analogous states of psychopathology, and other dreamlike states -like hallucinations, visions, &c. In the more recent works, on the other -hand, there has been a tendency to keep more closely to the theme, and -to take as the subject one single question of the dream life. This -change, I believe, is an expression of the conviction that enlightenment -and agreement in such obscure matters can only be brought about by a -series of detailed investigations. It is such a detailed investigation -and one of a special psychological nature, that I would offer here. I -have little occasion to study the problem of sleep, as it is essentially -a psychological problem, although the change of functional -determinations for the mental apparatus must be included in the -character of sleep. The literature of sleep will therefore not be -considered here. - -A scientific interest in the phenomena of dreams as such leads to the -following in part interdependent inquiries: - -(_a_) _The Relation of the Dream to the Waking State._—The naïve -judgment of a person on awakening assumes that the dream—if indeed it -does not originate in another world—at any rate has taken the dreamer -into another world. The old physiologist, Burdach,[8] to whom we are -indebted for a careful and discriminating description of the phenomena -of dreams, expressed this conviction in an often-quoted passage, p. 474: -“The waking life never repeats itself with its trials and joys, its -pleasures and pains, but, on the contrary, the dream aims to relieve us -of these. Even when our whole mind is filled with one subject, when -profound sorrow has torn our hearts or when a task has claimed the whole -power of our mentality, the dream either gives us something entirely -strange, or it takes for its combinations only a few elements from -reality, or it only enters into the strain of our mood and symbolises -reality.” - -L. Strümpell[66] expresses himself to the same effect in his _Nature and -Origin of Dreams_ (p. 16), a study which is everywhere justly held in -high respect: “He who dreams turns his back upon the world of waking -consciousness” (p. 17). “In the dream the memory of the orderly content -of the waking consciousness and its normal behaviour is as good as -entirely lost” (p. 19). “The almost complete isolation of the mind in -the dream from the regular normal content and course of the waking -state....” - -But the overwhelming majority of the authors have assumed a contrary -view of the relation of the dream to waking life. Thus Haffner[32] (p. -19): “First of all the dream is the continuation of the waking state. -Our dreams always unite themselves with those ideas which have shortly -before been in our consciousness. Careful examination will nearly always -find a thread by which the dream has connected itself with the -experience of the previous day.” Weygandt[75] (p. 6), flatly contradicts -the above cited statement of Burdach: “For it may often be observed, -apparently in the great majority of dreams, that they lead us directly -back into everyday life, instead of releasing us from it.” Maury[48] (p. -56), says in a concise formula: “Nous rêvons de ce que nous avons vu, -dit, désiré ou fait.” Jessen,[36] in his _Psychology_, published in 1855 -(p. 530), is somewhat more explicit: “The content of dreams is more or -less determined by the individual personality, by age, sex, station in -life, education, habits, and by events and experiences of the whole past -life.” - -The ancients had the same idea about the dependence of the dream content -upon life. I cite Radestock[54] (p. 139): “When Xerxes, before his march -against Greece, was dissuaded from this resolution by good counsel, but -was again and again incited by dreams to undertake it, one of the old -rational dream-interpreters of the Persians, Artabanus, told him very -appropriately that dream pictures mostly contain that of which one has -been thinking while awake.” - -In the didactic poem of Lucretius, _De Rerum Natura_ (IV, v. 959), -occurs this passage:— - - “Et quo quisque fere studio devinctus adhaeret, - aut quibus in rebus multum sumus ante morati - atque in ea ratione fuit contenta magis mens, - in somnis eadem plerumque videmur obire; - causidici causas agere et componere leges, - induperatores pugnare ac proelia obire,” &c., &c. - -Cicero (_De Divinatione_, II) says quite similarly, as does also Maury -much later:— - -“Maximeque reliquiae earum rerum moventur in animis et agitantur, de -quibus vigilantes aut cogitavimus aut egimus.” - -The contradiction expressed in these two views as to the relation -between dream life and waking life seems indeed insoluble. It will -therefore not be out of place to mention the description of F. W. -Hildebrandt[35] (1875), who believes that the peculiarities of the dream -can generally be described only by calling them a “series of contrasts -which apparently shade off into contradictions” (p. 8). “The first of -these contrasts is formed on the one hand by the strict isolation or -seclusion of the dream from true and actual life, and on the other hand -by the continuous encroachment of the one upon the other, and the -constant dependency of one upon the other. The dream is something -absolutely separated from the reality experienced during the waking -state; one may call it an existence hermetically sealed up and separated -from real life by an unsurmountable chasm. It frees us from reality, -extinguishes normal recollection of reality, and places us in another -world and in a totally different life, which at bottom has nothing in -common with reality....” Hildebrandt then asserts that in falling asleep -our whole being, with all its forms of existence, disappears “as through -an invisible trap door.” In the dream one is perhaps making a voyage to -St. Helena in order to offer the imprisoned Napoleon something exquisite -in the way of Moselle wine. One is most amicably received by the -ex-emperor, and feels almost sorry when the interesting illusion is -destroyed on awakening. But let us now compare the situation of the -dream with reality. The dreamer has never been a wine merchant, and has -no desire to become one. He has never made a sea voyage, and St. Helena -is the last place he would take as destination for such a voyage. The -dreamer entertains no sympathetic feeling for Napoleon, but on the -contrary a strong patriotic hatred. And finally the dreamer was not yet -among the living when Napoleon died on the island; so that it was beyond -the reach of possibility for him to have had any personal relations with -Napoleon. The dream experience thus appears as something strange, -inserted between two perfectly harmonising and succeeding periods. - -“Nevertheless,” continues Hildebrandt, “the opposite is seemingly just -as true and correct. I believe that hand in hand with this seclusion and -isolation there can still exist the most intimate relation and -connection. We may justly say that no matter what the dream offers, it -finds its material in reality and in the psychic life arrayed around -this reality. However strange the dream may seem, it can never detach -itself from reality, and its most sublime as well as its most farcical -structures must always borrow their elementary material either from what -we have seen with our eyes in the outer world, or from what has -previously found a place somewhere in our waking thoughts; in other -words, it must be taken from what we had already experienced either -objectively or subjectively.” - -(_b_) _The Material of the Dream.—Memory in the Dream._—That all the -material composing the content of the dream in some way originates in -experience, that it is reproduced in the dream, or recalled,—this at -least may be taken as an indisputable truth. Yet it would be wrong to -assume that such connection between dream content and reality will be -readily disclosed as an obvious product of the instituted comparison. On -the contrary, the connection must be carefully sought, and in many cases -it succeeds in eluding discovery for a long time. The reason for this is -to be found in a number of peculiarities evinced by the memory in -dreams, which, though universally known, have hitherto entirely eluded -explanation. It will be worth while to investigate exhaustively these -characteristics. - -It often happens that matter appears in the dream content which one -cannot recognise later in the waking state as belonging to one’s -knowledge and experience. One remembers well enough having dreamed about -the subject in question, but cannot recall the fact or time of the -experience. The dreamer is therefore in the dark as to the source from -which the dream has been drawing, and is even tempted to believe an -independently productive activity on the part of the dream, until, often -long afterwards, a new episode brings back to recollection a former -experience given up as lost, and thus reveals the source of the dream. -One is thus forced to admit that something has been known and remembered -in the dream that has been withdrawn from memory during the waking -state. - -Delbœuf[16] narrates from his own experience an especially impressive -example of this kind. He saw in his dream the courtyard of his house -covered with snow, and found two little lizards half-frozen and buried -in the snow. Being a lover of animals, he picked them up, warmed them, -and put them back into a crevice in the wall which was reserved for -them. He also gave them some small fern leaves that had been growing on -the wall, which he knew they were fond of. In the dream he knew the name -of the plant: _Asplenium ruta muralis_. The dream then continued, -returning after a digression to the lizards, and to his astonishment -Delbœuf saw two other little animals falling upon what was left of the -ferns. On turning his eyes to the open field he saw a fifth and a sixth -lizard running into the hole in the wall, and finally the street was -covered with a procession of lizards, all wandering in the same -direction, &c. - -In his waking state Delbœuf knew only a few Latin names of plants, and -nothing of the Asplenium. To his great surprise he became convinced that -a fern of this name really existed and that the correct name was -_Asplenium ruta muraria_, which the dream had slightly disfigured. An -accidental coincidence could hardly be considered, but it remained a -mystery for Delbœuf whence he got his knowledge of the name Asplenium in -the dream. - -The dream occurred in 1862. Sixteen years later, while at the house of -one of his friends, the philosopher noticed a small album containing -dried plants resembling the albums that are sold as souvenirs to -visitors in many parts of Switzerland. A sudden recollection occurred to -him; he opened the herbarium, and discovered therein the Asplenium of -his dream, and recognised his own handwriting in the accompanying Latin -name. The connection could now be traced. While on her wedding trip, a -sister of this friend visited Delbœuf in 1860—two years prior to the -lizard dream. She had with her at the time this album, which was -intended for her brother, and Delbœuf took the trouble to write, at the -dictation of a botanist, under each of the dried plants the Latin name. - -The favourable accident which made possible the report of this valuable -example also permitted Delbœuf to trace another portion of this dream to -its forgotten source. One day in 1877 he came upon an old volume of an -illustrated journal, in which he found pictured the whole procession of -lizards just as he had dreamed it in 1862. The volume bore the date of -1861, and Delbœuf could recall that he had subscribed to the journal -from its first appearance. - -That the dream has at its disposal recollections which are inaccessible -to the waking state is such a remarkable and theoretically important -fact that I should like to urge more attention to it by reporting -several other “Hypermnesic Dreams.” Maury[48] relates that for some time -the word Mussidan used to occur to his mind during the day. He knew it -to be the name of a French city, but nothing else. One night he dreamed -of a conversation with a certain person who told him that she came from -Mussidan, and, in answer to his question where the city was, she -replied: “Mussidan is a principal country town in the Département de La -Dordogne.” On waking, Maury put no faith in the information received in -his dream; the geographical lexicon, however, showed it to be perfectly -correct. In this case the superior knowledge of the dream is confirmed, -but the forgotten source of this knowledge has not been traced. - -Jessen[36] tells (p. 55) of a quite similar dream occurrence, from more -remote times. Among others we may here mention the dream of the elder -Scaliger (Hennings, _l.c._, p. 300), who wrote a poem in praise of -celebrated men of Verona, and to whom a man, named Brugnolus, appeared -in a dream, complaining that he had been neglected. Though Scaliger did -not recall ever having heard of him, he wrote some verses in his honour, -and his son later discovered at Verona that a Brugnolus had formerly -been famous there as a critic. - -Myers is said to have published a whole collection of such hypermnesic -dreams in the _Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research_, which -are unfortunately inaccessible to me. I believe every one who occupies -himself with dreams will recognise as a very common phenomenon the fact -that the dream gives proof of knowing and recollecting matters unknown -to the waking person. In my psychoanalytic investigations of nervous -patients, of which I shall speak later, I am every week more than once -in position to convince my patients from their dreams that they are well -acquainted with quotations, obscene expressions, &c., and that they make -use of these in their dreams, although they have forgotten them in the -waking state. I shall cite here a simple case of dream hypermnesia -because it was easy to trace the source which made the knowledge -accessible to the dream. - -A patient dreamed in a lengthy connection that he ordered a -“Kontuszówka” in a café, and after reporting this inquired what it might -mean, as he never heard the name before. I was able to answer that -Kontuszówka was a Polish liquor which he could not have invented in his -dream, as the name had long been familiar to me in advertisements. The -patient would not at first believe me, but some days later, after he had -realised his dream of the café, he noticed the name on a signboard at -the street corner, which he had been obliged to pass for months at least -twice a day. - -I have learned from my own dreams how largely the discovery of the -origin of some of the dream elements depends on accident. Thus, for -years before writing this book, I was haunted by the picture of a very -simply formed church tower which I could not recall having seen. I then -suddenly recognised it with absolute certainty at a small station -between Salzburg and Reichenhall. This was in the later nineties, and I -had travelled over the road for the first time in the year 1886. In -later years, when I was already busily engaged in the study of dreams, I -was quite annoyed at the frequent recurrence of the dream picture of a -certain peculiar locality. I saw it in definite local relation to my -person—to my left, a dark space from which many grotesque sandstone -figures stood out. A glimmer of recollection, which I did not quite -credit, told me it was the entrance to a beer-cellar, but I could -explain neither the meaning nor the origin of this dream picture. In -1907 I came by chance to Padua, which, to my regret, I had been unable -to visit since 1895. My first visit to this beautiful university city -was unsatisfactory; I was unable to see Giotto’s frescoes in the church -of the Madonna dell’ Arena, and on my way there turned back on being -informed that the little church was closed on the day. On my second -visit, twelve years later, I thought of compensating myself for this, -and before everything else I started out for Madonna dell’ Arena. On the -street leading to it, on my left, probably at the place where I had -turned in 1895, I discovered the locality which I had so often seen in -the dream, with its sandstone figures. It was in fact the entrance to a -restaurant garden. - -One of the sources from which the dream draws material for -reproduction—material which in part is not recalled or employed in -waking thought—is to be found in childhood. I shall merely cite some of -the authors who have observed and emphasized this. - -Hildebrandt[35] (p. 23): “It has already been expressly admitted that -the dream sometimes brings back to the mind with wonderful reproductive -ability remote and even forgotten experiences from the earliest -periods.” - -Strümpell[66] (p. 40): “The subject becomes more interesting when we -remember how the dream sometimes brings forth, as it were, from among -the deepest and heaviest strata which later years have piled upon the -earliest childhood experiences, the pictures of certain places, things, -and persons, quite uninjured and with their original freshness. This is -not limited merely to such impressions as have gained vivid -consciousness during their origin or have become impressed with strong -psychic validity, and then later return in the dream as actual -reminiscences, causing pleasure to the awakened consciousness. On the -contrary, the depths of the dream memory comprise also such pictures of -persons, things, places, and early experiences as either possessed but -little consciousness and no psychic value at all, or have long ago lost -both, and therefore appear totally strange and unknown both in the dream -and in the waking state, until their former origin is revealed.” - -Volkelt[72] (p. 119): “It is essentially noteworthy how easily infantile -and youthful reminiscences enter into the dream. What we have long -ceased to think about, what has long since lost for us all importance, -is constantly recalled by the dream.” - -The sway of the dream over the infantile material, which, as is well -known, mostly occupies the gaps in the conscious memory, causes the -origin of interesting hypermnestic dreams, a few of which I shall here -report. - -Maury[48] relates (p. 92) that as a child he often went from his native -city, Meaux, to the neighbouring Trilport, where his father -superintended the construction of a bridge. On a certain night a dream -transported him to Trilport, and he was again playing in the city -streets. A man approached him wearing some sort of uniform. Maury asked -him his name, and he introduced himself, saying that his name was C——, -and that he was a bridge guard. On waking, Maury, who still doubted the -reality of the reminiscence, asked his old servant, who had been with -him in his childhood, whether she remembered a man of this name. -“Certainly,” was the answer, “he used to be watchman on the bridge which -your father was building at that time.” - -Maury reports another example demonstrating just as nicely the -reliability of infantile reminiscences appearing in dreams. Mr. F——, who -had lived as a child in Montbrison, decided to visit his home and old -friends of his family after an absence of twenty-five years. The night -before his departure he dreamt that he had reached his destination, and -that he met near Montbrison a man, whom he did not know by sight, who -told him he was Mr. F., a friend of his father. The dreamer remembered -that as a child he had known a gentleman of this name, but on waking he -could no longer recall his features. Several days later, having really -arrived at Montbrison, he found the supposedly unknown locality of his -dream, and there met a man whom he at once recognised as the Mr. F. of -his dream. The real person was only older than the one in the dream -picture. - -I may here relate one of my own dreams in which the remembered -impression is replaced by an association. In my dream I saw a person -whom I recognised, while dreaming, as the physician of my native town. -The features were indistinct and confused with the picture of one of my -colleague teachers, whom I still see occasionally. What association -there was between the two persons I could not discover on awakening. But -upon questioning my mother about the physician of my early childhood, I -discovered that he was a one-eyed man. My teacher, whose figure -concealed that of the physician in the dream, was also one-eyed. I have -not seen the physician for thirty-eight years, and I have not to my -knowledge thought of him in my waking state, although a scar on my chin -might have reminded me of his help. - -As if to counterbalance the immense rôle ascribed to the infantile -impressions in the dream, many authors assert that the majority of -dreams show elements from the most recent time. Thus Robert[55] (p. 46) -declares that the normal dream generally occupies itself only with the -impressions of the recent days. We learn indeed that the theory of the -dream advanced by Robert imperatively demands that the old impressions -should be pushed back, and the recent ones brought to the front. -Nevertheless the fact claimed by Robert really exists; I can confirm -this from my own investigations. Nelson,[50] an American author, thinks -that the impressions most frequently found in the dream date from two or -three days before, as if the impressions of the day immediately -preceding the dream were not sufficiently weakened and remote. - -Many authors who are convinced of the intimate connection between the -dream content and the waking state are impressed by the fact that -impressions which have intensely occupied the waking mind appear in the -dream only after they have been to some extent pushed aside from the -elaboration of the waking thought. Thus, as a rule, we do not dream of a -dead beloved person while we are still overwhelmed with sorrow. Still -Miss Hallam,[33] one of the latest observers, has collected examples -showing the very opposite behaviour, and claims for the point the right -of individual psychology. - -The third and the most remarkable and incomprehensible peculiarity of -the memory in dreams, is shown in the selection of the reproduced -material, for stress is laid not only on the most significant, but also -on the most indifferent and superficial reminiscences. On this point I -shall quote those authors who have expressed their surprise in the most -emphatic manner. - -Hildebrandt[35] (p. 11): “For it is a remarkable fact that dreams do -not, as a rule, take their elements from great and deep-rooted events or -from the powerful and urgent interests of the preceding day, but from -unimportant matters, from the most worthless fragments of recent -experience or of a more remote past. The most shocking death in our -family, the impressions of which keep us awake long into the night, -becomes obliterated from our memories, until the first moment of -awakening brings it back to us with depressing force. On the other hand, -the wart on the forehead of a passing stranger, of whom we did not think -for a second after he was out of sight, plays its part in our dreams.” - -Strümpell[66] (p. 39): “... such cases where the analysis of a dream -brings to light elements which, although derived from events of the -previous day or the day before the last, yet prove to be so unimportant -and worthless for the waking state that they merge into forgetfulness -shortly after coming to light. Such occurrences may be statements of -others heard accidentally or actions superficially observed, or fleeting -perceptions of things or persons, or single phrases from books, &c.” - -Havelock Ellis[23] (p. 727): “The profound emotions of waking life, the -questions and problems on which we spread our chief voluntary mental -energy, are not those which usually present themselves at once to -dream-consciousness. It is, so far as the immediate past is concerned, -mostly the trifling, the incidental, the “forgotten” impressions of -daily life which reappear in our dreams. The psychic activities that are -awake most intensely are those that sleep most profoundly.” - -Binz[4] (p. 45) takes occasion from the above-mentioned characteristics -of the memory in dreams to express his dissatisfaction with explanations -of dreams which he himself has approved of: “And the normal dream raises -similar questions. Why do we not always dream of memory impressions from -the preceding days, instead of going back to the almost forgotten past -lying far behind us without any perceptible reason? Why in a dream does -consciousness so often revive the impression of indifferent memory -pictures while the cerebral cells bearing the most sensitive records of -experience remain for the most part inert and numb, unless an acute -revival during the waking state has shortly before excited them?” - -We can readily understand how the strange preference of the dream memory -for the indifferent and hence the unnoticed details of daily experience -must usually lead us to overlook altogether the dependence of the dream -on the waking state, or at least make it difficult to prove this -dependence in any individual case. It thus happened that in the -statistical treatment of her own and her friend’s dreams, Miss Whiton -Calkins[12] found 11 per cent. of the entire number that showed no -relation to the waking state. Hildebrandt was certainly correct in his -assertion that all our dream pictures could be genetically explained if -we devoted enough time and material to the tracing of their origin. To -be sure, he calls this “a most tedious and thankless job.” For it would -at most lead us to ferret out all kinds of quite worthless psychic -material from the most remote corners of the memory chamber, and to -bring to light some very indifferent moments from the remote past which -were perhaps buried the next hour after their appearance. I must, -however, express my regret that this discerning author refrained from -following the road whose beginning looked so unpromising; it would have -led him directly to the centre of the dream problem. - -The behaviour of the memory in dreams is surely most significant for -every theory of memory in general. It teaches us that “nothing which we -have once psychically possessed is ever entirely lost” (Scholz[59]); or -as Delbœuf puts it, “que toute impression même la plus insignifiante, -laisse une trace inaltérable, indéfiniment susceptible de reparaître au -jour,” a conclusion to which we are urged by so many of the other -pathological manifestations of the psychic life. Let us now bear in mind -this extraordinary capability of the memory in the dream, in order to -perceive vividly the contradictions which must be advanced in certain -dream theories to be mentioned later, when they endeavour to explain the -absurdities and incoherence of dreams through a partial forgetting of -what we have known during the day. - -One might even think of reducing the phenomenon of dreaming to that of -memory, and of regarding the dream as the manifestation of an activity -of reproduction which does not rest even at night, and which is an end -in itself. Views like those expressed by Pilcz[51] would corroborate -this, according to which intimate relations are demonstrable between the -time of dreaming and the contents of the dream from the fact that the -impressions reproduced by the dream in sound sleep belong to the -remotest past while those reproduced towards morning are of recent -origin. But such a conception is rendered improbable from the outset by -the manner of the dream’s behaviour towards the material to be -remembered. Strümpell[66] justly calls our attention to the fact that -repetitions of experiences do not occur in the dream. To be sure the -dream makes an effort in that direction, but the next link is wanting, -or appears in changed form, or it is replaced by something entirely -novel. The dream shows only fragments of reproduction; this is so often -the rule that it admits of theoretical application. Still there are -exceptions in which the dream repeats an episode as thoroughly as our -memory would in its waking state. Delbœuf tells of one of his university -colleagues who in his dream repeated, with all its details, a dangerous -wagon ride in which he escaped accident as if by miracle. Miss -Calkins[12] mentions two dreams, the contents of which exactly -reproduced incidents from the day before, and I shall later take -occasion to report an example which came to my notice, showing a -childish experience which returned unchanged in a dream.[F] - -(_c_) _Dream Stimuli and Dream Sources._—What is meant by dream stimuli -and dream sources may be explained by referring to the popular saying, -“Dreams come from the stomach.” This notion conceals a theory which -conceives the dream as a result of a disturbance of sleep. We should not -have dreamed if some disturbing element had not arisen in sleep, and the -dream is the reaction from this disturbance. - -The discussion of the exciting causes of dreams takes up the most space -in the descriptions of the authors. That this problem could appear only -after the dream had become an object of biological investigation is -self-evident. The ancients who conceived the dream as a divine -inspiration had no need of looking for its exciting source; to them the -dream resulted from the will of the divine or demoniacal powers, and its -content was the product of their knowledge or intention. Science, -however, soon raised the question whether the stimulus to the dream is -always the same, or whether it might be manifold, and thus led to the -question whether the causal explanation of the dream belongs to -psychology or rather to physiology. Most authors seem to assume that the -causes of the disturbance of sleep, and hence the sources of the dream, -might be of various natures, and that physical as well as mental -irritations might assume the rôle of dream inciters. Opinions differ -greatly in preferring this or that one of the dream sources, in ranking -them, and indeed as to their importance for the origin of dreams. - -Wherever the enumeration of dream sources is complete we ultimately find -four forms, which are also utilised for the division of dreams:— - - I. External (objective) sensory stimuli. - - II. Internal (subjective) sensory stimuli. - - III. Internal (organic) physical excitations. - - IV. Purely psychical exciting sources. - -I. _The External Sensory Stimuli._—The younger Strümpell, son of the -philosopher whose writings on the subject have already more than once -served us as a guide in the problem of dreams, has, as is well known, -reported his observations on a patient who was afflicted with general -anæsthesia of the skin and with paralysis of several of the higher -sensory organs. This man merged into sleep when his few remaining -sensory paths from the outer world were shut off. When we wish to sleep -we are wont to strive for a situation resembling the one in Strümpell’s -experiment. We close the most important sensory paths, the eyes, and we -endeavour to keep away from the other senses every stimulus and every -change of the stimuli acting upon them. We then fall asleep, although we -are never perfectly successful in our preparations. We can neither keep -the stimuli away from the sensory organs altogether, nor can we fully -extinguish the irritability of the sensory organs. That we may at any -time be awakened by stronger stimuli should prove to us “that the mind -has remained in constant communication with the material world even -during sleep.” The sensory stimuli which reach us during sleep may -easily become the source of dreams. - -There are a great many stimuli of such nature, ranging from those that -are unavoidable, being brought on by the sleeping state or at least -occasionally induced by it, to the accidental waking stimuli which are -adapted or calculated to put an end to sleep. Thus a strong light may -force itself into the eyes, a noise may become perceptible, or some -odoriferous matter may irritate the mucous membrane of the nose. In the -spontaneous movements of sleep we may lay bare parts of the body and -thus expose them to a sensation of cold, or through change of position -we may produce sensations of pressure and touch. A fly may bite us, or a -slight accident at night may simultaneously attack more than one sense. -Observers have called attention to a whole series of dreams in which the -stimulus verified on waking, and a part of the dream content -corresponded to such a degree that the stimulus could be recognised as -the source of the dream. - -I shall here cite a number of such dreams collected by Jessen[36] (p. -527), traceable to more or less accidental objective sensory stimuli. -“Every indistinctly perceived noise gives rise to corresponding dream -pictures; the rolling of thunder takes us into the thick of battle, the -crowing of a cock may be transformed into human shrieks of terror, and -the creaking of a door may conjure up dreams of burglars breaking into -the house. When one of our blankets slips off at night we may dream that -we are walking about naked or falling into the water. If we lie -diagonally across the bed with our feet extending beyond the edge, we -may dream of standing on the brink of a terrifying precipice, or of -falling from a steep height. Should our head accidentally get under the -pillow we may then imagine a big rock hanging over us and about to crush -us under its weight. Accumulation of semen produces voluptuous dreams, -and local pain the idea of suffering ill treatment, of hostile attacks, -or of accidental bodily injuries.” - -“Meier (_Versuch einer Erklärung des Nachtwandelns_, Halle, 1758, p. -33), once dreamed of being assaulted by several persons who threw him -flat on the ground and drove a stake into the ground between his big and -second toes. While imagining this in his dream he suddenly awoke and -felt a blade of straw sticking between his toes. The same author, -according to Hemmings (_Von den Traumen und Nachtwandeln_, Weimar, 1784, -p. 258) dreamed on another occasion that he was being hanged when his -shirt was pinned somewhat tight around his neck. Hauffbauer dreamed in -his youth of having fallen from a high wall and found upon waking that -the bedstead had come apart, and that he had actually fallen to the -floor.... Gregory relates that he once applied a hot-water bottle to his -feet, and dreamed of taking a trip to the summit of Mount Ætna, where he -found the heat on the ground almost unbearable. After having applied a -blistering plaster to his head, a second man dreamed of being scalped by -Indians; a third, whose shirt was damp, dreamed of being dragged through -a stream. An attack of gout caused the patient to believe that he was in -the hands of the Inquisition, and suffering pains of torture (Macnish).” - -The argument based upon the resemblance between stimulus and dream -content is reinforced if through a systematic induction of stimuli we -succeed in producing dreams corresponding to the stimuli. According to -Macnish such experiments have already been made by Giron de -Buzareingues. “He left his knee exposed and dreamed of travelling in a -mail coach at night. He remarked in this connection that travellers -would well know how cold the knees become in a coach at night. Another -time he left the back of his head uncovered, and dreamed of taking part -in a religious ceremony in the open air. In the country where he lived -it was customary to keep the head always covered except on such -occasions.” - -Maury[48] reports new observations on dreams produced in himself. (A -number of other attempts produced no results.) - -1. He was tickled with a feather on his lips and on the tip of his nose. -He dreamed of awful torture, viz. that a mask of pitch was stuck to his -face and then forcibly torn off, taking the skin with it. - -2. Scissors were sharpened on pincers. He heard bells ringing, then -sounds of alarm which took him back to the June days of 1848. - -3. Cologne water was put on his nose. He found himself in Cairo in the -shop of John Maria Farina. This was followed by mad adventures which he -was unable to reproduce. - -4. His neck was lightly pinched. He dreamed that a blistering plaster -was put on him, and thought of a doctor who treated him in his -childhood. - -5. A hot iron was brought near his face. He dreamed that _chauffeurs_[G] -broke into the house and forced the occupants to give up their money by -sticking their feet into burning coals. The Duchess of Abrantés, whose -secretary he imagined himself in the dream, then entered. - -6. A drop of water was let fall on his forehead. He imagined himself in -Italy perspiring heavily and drinking white wine of Orvieto. - -7. When a burning candle was repeatedly focussed on him through red -paper, he dreamed of the weather, of heat, and of a storm at sea which -he once experienced in the English Channel. - -D’Hervey,[34] Weygandt,[75] and others have made other attempts to -produce dreams experimentally. - -Many have observed the striking skill of the dream in interweaving into -its structure sudden impressions from the outer world in such a manner -as to present a gradually prepared and initiated catastrophe -(Hildebrandt)[35]. “In former years,” this author relates, “I -occasionally made use of an alarm clock in order to wake regularly at a -certain hour in the morning. It probably happened hundreds of times that -the sound of this instrument fitted into an apparently very long and -connected dream, as if the entire dream had been especially designed for -it, as if it found in this sound its appropriate and logically -indispensable point, its inevitable issue.” - -I shall cite three of these alarm-clock dreams for another purpose. - -Volkelt (p. 68) relates: “A composer once dreamed that he was teaching -school, and was just explaining something to his pupils. He had almost -finished when he turned to one of the boys with the question: ‘Did you -understand me?’ The boy cried out like one possessed ‘Ya.’ Annoyed at -this, he reprimanded him for shouting. But now the entire class was -screaming ‘Orya,’ then ‘Euryo,’ and finally ‘Feueryo.’ He was now -aroused by an actual alarm of fire in the street.” - -Garnier (_Traité des Facultés de l’Âme_, 1865), reported by -Radestock,[54] relates that Napoleon I., while sleeping in a carriage, -was awakened from a dream by an explosion which brought back to him the -crossing of the Tagliamento and the bombarding of the Austrians, so that -he started up crying, “We are undermined!” - -The following dream of Maury[48] has become celebrated. He was sick, and -remained in bed; his mother sat beside him. He then dreamed of the reign -of terror at the time of the Revolution. He took part in terrible scenes -of murder, and finally he himself was summoned before the Tribunal. -There he saw Robespierre, Marat, Fouquier-Tinville, and all the sorry -heroes of that cruel epoch; he had to give an account of himself, and, -after all sort of incidents which did not fix themselves in his memory, -he was sentenced to death. Accompanied by an enormous crowd, he was led -to the place of execution. He mounted the scaffold, the executioner tied -him to the board, it tipped, and the knife of the guillotine fell. He -felt his head severed from the trunk, and awakened in terrible anxiety, -only to find that the top piece of the bed had fallen down, and had -actually struck his cervical vertebra in the same manner as the knife of -a guillotine. - -This dream gave rise to an interesting discussion introduced by Le -Lorrain[45] and Egger[20] in the _Revue Philosophique_. The question was -whether, and how, it was possible for the dreamer to crowd together an -amount of dream content apparently so large in the short space of time -elapsing between the perception of the waking stimulus and the -awakening. - -Examples of this nature make it appear that the objective stimuli during -sleep are the most firmly established of all the dream sources; indeed, -it is the only stimulus which plays any part in the layman’s knowledge. -If we ask an educated person, who is, however, unacquainted with the -literature of dreams, how dreams originate, he is sure to answer by -referring to a case familiar to him in which a dream has been explained -after waking by a recognised objective stimulus. Scientific -investigation cannot, however, stop here, but is incited to further -research by the observation that the stimulus influencing the senses -during sleep does not appear in the dream at all in its true form, but -is replaced by some other presentation which is in some way related to -it. But the relation existing between the stimulus and the result of the -dream is, according to Maury,[47] “une affinité quelconque mais qui -n’est pas unique et exclusive” (p. 72). If we read, _e.g._, three of -Hildebrandt’s “Alarm Clock Dreams,” we will then have to inquire why the -same stimulus evoked so many different results, and why just these -results and no others. - -(P. 37). “I am taking a walk on a beautiful spring morning. I saunter -through the green fields to a neighbouring village, where I see the -natives going to church in great numbers, wearing their holiday attire -and carrying their hymn-books under their arms. I remember that it is -Sunday, and that the morning service will soon begin. I decide to attend -it, but as I am somewhat overheated I also decide to cool off in the -cemetery surrounding the church. While reading the various epitaphs, I -hear the sexton ascend the tower and see the small village bell in the -cupola which is about to give signal for the beginning of the devotions. -For another short while it hangs motionless, then it begins to swing, -and suddenly its notes resound so clearly and penetratingly that my -sleep comes to an end. But the sound of bells comes from the alarm -clock.” - -“A second combination. It is a clear day, the streets are covered with -deep snow. I have promised to take part in a sleigh-ride, but have had -to wait for some time before it was announced that the sleigh is in -front of my house. The preparations for getting into the sleigh are now -made. I put on my furs and adjust my muff, and at last I am in my place. -But the departure is still delayed, until the reins give the impatient -horses the perceptible sign. They start, and the sleigh bells, now -forcibly shaken, begin their familiar janizary music with a force that -instantly tears the gossamer of my dream. Again it is only the shrill -sound of my alarm clock.” - -Still a third example. “I see the kitchen-maid walk along the corridor -to the dining-room with several dozen plates piled up. The porcelain -column in her arms seems to me to be in danger of losing its -equilibrium. ‘Take care,’ I exclaim, ‘you will drop the whole pile.’ The -usual retort is naturally not wanting—that she is used to such things. -Meanwhile I continue to follow her with my worried glance, and behold! -at the door-step the fragile dishes fall, tumble, and roll across the -floor in hundreds of pieces. But I soon notice that the noise continuing -endlessly is not really a rattling but a true ringing, and with this -ringing the dreamer now becomes aware that the alarm clock has done its -duty.” - -The question why the dreaming mind misjudges the nature of the objective -sensory stimulus has been answered by Strümpell,[66] and almost -identically by Wundt,[76] to the effect that the reaction of the mind to -the attacking stimuli in sleep is determined by the formation of -illusions. A sensory impression is recognised by us and correctly -interpreted, i.e. it is classed with the memory group to which it -belongs according to all previous experience, if the impression is -strong, clear, and long enough, and if we have the necessary time at our -disposal for this reflection. If these conditions are not fulfilled, we -mistake the objects which give rise to the impression, and on its basis -we form an illusion. “If one takes a walk in an open field and perceives -indistinctly a distant object, it may happen that he will at first take -it for a horse.” On closer inspection the image of a cow resting may -obtrude itself, and the presentation may finally resolve itself with -certainty into a group of people sitting. The impressions which the mind -receives during sleep through outer stimuli are of a similar indistinct -nature; they give rise to illusions because the impression evokes a -greater or lesser number of memory pictures through which the impression -receives its psychic value. In which of the many spheres of memory to be -taken into consideration the corresponding pictures are aroused, and -which of the possible association connections thereby come into force, -this, even according to Strümpell, remains indeterminable, and is left, -as it were, to the caprice of the psychic life. - -We may here take our choice. We may admit that the laws of the dream -formation cannot really be traced any further, and therefore refrain -from asking whether or not the interpretation of the illusion evoked by -the sensory impression depends upon still other conditions; or we may -suppose that the objective sensory stimulus encroaching upon sleep plays -only a modest part as a dream source, and that other factors determine -the choice of the memory picture to be evoked. Indeed, on carefully -examining Maury’s experimentally produced dreams, which I have purposely -reported in detail, one is apt to think that the experiment really -explains the origin of only one of the dream elements, and that the rest -of the dream content appears in fact too independent, too much -determined in detail, to be explained by the one demand, viz. that it -must agree with the element experimentally introduced. Indeed one even -begins to doubt the illusion theory, and the power of the objective -impression to form the dream, when one learns that this impression at -times experiences the most peculiar and far-fetched interpretations -during the sleeping state. Thus B. M. Simon[63] tells of a dream in -which he saw persons of gigantic stature[H] seated at a table, and heard -distinctly the awful rattling produced by the impact of their jaws while -chewing. On waking he heard the clacking of the hoofs of a horse -galloping past his window. If the noise of the horse’s hoofs had -recalled ideas from the memory sphere of “Gulliver’s Travels,” the -sojourn with the giants of Brobdingnag and the virtuous -horse-creatures—as I should perhaps interpret it without any assistance -on the author’s part—should not the choice of a memory sphere so -uncommon for the stimulus have some further illumination from other -motives? - -II. _Internal (Subjective) Sensory Stimuli._—Notwithstanding all -objections to the contrary, we must admit that the rôle of the objective -sensory stimuli as a producer of dreams has been indisputably -established, and if these stimuli seem perhaps insufficient in their -nature and frequency to explain all dream pictures, we are then directed -to look for other dream sources acting in an analogous manner. I do not -know where the idea originated that along with the outer sensory stimuli -the inner (subjective) stimuli should also be considered, but as a -matter of fact this is done more or less fully in all the more recent -descriptions of the etiology of dreams. “An important part is played in -dream illusions,” says Wundt[36] (p. 363), “by those subjective -sensations of seeing and hearing which are familiar to us in the waking -state as a luminous chaos in the dark field of vision, ringing, buzzing, -&c., of the ears, and especially irritation of the retina. This explains -the remarkable tendency of the dream to delude the eyes with numbers of -similar or identical objects. Thus we see spread before our eyes -numberless birds, butterflies, fishes, coloured beads, flowers, &c. Here -the luminous dust in the dark field of vision has taken on phantastic -figures, and the many luminous points of which it consists are embodied -by the dream in as many single pictures, which are looked upon as moving -objects owing to the mobility of the luminous chaos. This is also the -root of the great fondness of the dream for the most complex animal -figures, the multiplicity of forms readily following the form of the -subjective light pictures.” - -The subjective sensory stimuli as a source of the dream have the obvious -advantage that unlike the objective stimuli they are independent of -external accidents. They are, so to speak, at the disposal of the -explanation as often as it needs them. They are, however, in so far -inferior to the objective sensory stimuli that the rôle of dream -inciter, which observation and experiment have proven for the latter, -can be verified in their case only with difficulty or not at all. The -main proof for the dream-inciting power of subjective sensory -excitements is offered by the so-called hypnogogic hallucinations, which -have been described by John Müller as “phantastic visual -manifestations.” They are those very vivid and changeable pictures which -occur regularly in many people during the period of falling asleep, and -which may remain for awhile even after the eyes have been opened. -Maury,[48] who was considerably troubled by them, subjected them to a -thorough study, and maintained that they are related to or rather -identical with dream pictures—this has already been asserted by John -Müller. Maury states that a certain psychic passivity is necessary for -their origin; it requires a relaxation of the tension of attention (p. -59). But in any ordinary disposition a hypnogogic hallucination may be -produced by merging for a second into such lethargy, after which one -perhaps awakens until this oft-repeated process terminates in sleep. -According to Maury, if one awakens shortly thereafter, it is often -possible to demonstrate the same pictures in the dream which one has -perceived as hypnogogic hallucinations before falling asleep (p. 134). -Thus it once happened to Maury with a group of pictures of grotesque -figures, with distorted features and strange headdresses, which obtruded -themselves upon him with incredible importunity during the period of -falling asleep, and which he recalled having dreamed upon awakening. On -another occasion, while suffering from hunger, because he kept himself -on a rather strict diet, he saw hypnogogically a plate and a hand armed -with a fork taking some food from the plate. In his dream he found -himself at a table abundantly supplied with food, and heard the rattle -made by the diners with their forks. On still another occasion, after -falling asleep with irritated and painful eyes, he had the hypnogogic -hallucination of seeing microscopically small characters which he was -forced to decipher one by one with great exertion; having been awakened -from his sleep an hour later, he recalled a dream in which there was an -open book with very small letters, which he was obliged to read through -with laborious effort. - -Just as in the case of these pictures, auditory hallucinations of words, -names, &c., may also appear hypnogogically, and then repeat themselves -in the dream, like an overture announcing the principal motive of the -opera which is to follow. - -A more recent observer of hypnogogic hallucinations, G. Trumbull -Ladd,[40] takes the same path pursued by John Müller and Maury. By dint -of practice he succeeded in acquiring the faculty of suddenly arousing -himself, without opening his eyes, two to five minutes after having -gradually fallen asleep, which gave him opportunity to compare the -sensations of the retina just vanishing with the dream pictures -remaining in his memory. He assures us that an intimate relation between -the two can always be recognised, in the sense that the luminous dots -and lines of the spontaneous light of the retina produced, so to speak, -the sketched outline or scheme for the psychically perceived dream -figures. A dream, _e.g._, in which he saw in front of him clearly -printed lines which he read and studied, corresponded to an arrangement -of the luminous dots and lines in the retina in parallel lines, or, to -express it in his own words: “The clearly printed page, which he was -reading in the dream, resolved itself into an object which appeared to -his waking perception like part of an actual printed sheet looked at -through a little hole in a piece of paper, from too great a distance to -be made out distinctly.” Without in any way under-estimating the central -part of the phenomenon, Ladd believes that hardly any visual dream -occurs in our minds that is not based on material furnished by this -inner condition of stimulation in the retina. This is particularly true -of dreams occurring shortly after falling asleep in a dark room, while -dreams occurring in the morning near the period of awakening receive -their stimulation from the objective light penetrating the eye from the -lightened room. The shifting and endlessly variable character of the -spontaneous luminous excitation of the retina corresponds exactly to the -fitful succession of pictures presented to us in our dreams. If we -attach any importance to Ladd’s observations, we cannot underrate the -productiveness of this subjective source of excitation for the dream; -for visual pictures apparently form the principal constituent of our -dreams. The share furnished from the spheres of the other senses, beside -the sense of hearing, is more insignificant and inconstant. - -III. _Internal (Organic) Physical Excitation._—If we are disposed to -seek dream sources not outside, but inside, the organism, we must -remember that almost all our internal organs, which in their healthy -state hardly remind us of their existence, may, in states of -excitation—as we call them—or in disease, become for us a source of the -most painful sensations, which must be put on an equality with the -external excitants of the pain and sensory stimuli. It is on the -strength of very old experience that, _e.g._, Strümpell[66] declares -that “during sleep the mind becomes far more deeply and broadly -conscious of its connection with the body than in the waking state, and -it is compelled to receive and be influenced by stimulating impressions -originating in parts and changes of the body of which it is unconscious -in the waking state.” Even Aristotle[1] declares it quite possible that -the dream should draw our attention to incipient morbid conditions which -we have not noticed at all in the waking state owing to the exaggeration -given by the dream to the impressions; and some medical authors, who -were certainly far from believing in any prophetic power of the dream, -have admitted this significance of the dream at least for the -foretelling of disease. (Compare M. Simon, p. 31, and many older -authors.) - -Even in our times there seems to be no lack of authenticated examples of -such diagnostic performances on the part of the dream. Thus Tissié[68] -cites from Artigues (_Essai sur la Valeur séméiologique des Réves_), the -history of a woman of forty-three years, who, during several years of -apparently perfect health, was troubled with anxiety dreams, and in whom -medical examination later disclosed an incipient affection of the heart -to which she soon succumbed. - -Serious disturbances of the internal organs apparently act as inciters -of dreams in a considerable number of persons. Attention is quite -generally called to the frequency of anxiety dreams in the diseases of -the heart and lungs; indeed this relation of the dream life is placed so -conspicuously in the foreground by many authors that I shall here -content myself with a mere reference to the literature. (Radestock,[54] -Spitta,[64] Maury, M. Simon, Tissié.) Tissié even assumes that the -diseased organs impress upon the dream content their characteristic -features. The dreams of persons suffering from diseases of the heart are -generally very brief and terminate in a terrified awakening; the -situation of death under terrible circumstances almost always plays a -part in their content. Those suffering from diseases of the lungs dream -of suffocation, of being crowded, and of flight, and a great many of -them are subject to the well-known nightmare, which, by the way, Boerner -has succeeded in producing experimentally by lying on the face and -closing up the openings of the respiratory organs. In digestive -disturbances the dream contains ideas from the sphere of enjoyment and -disgust. Finally, the influence of sexual excitement on the dream -content is perceptible enough in every one’s experience, and lends the -strongest support to the entire theory of the dream excitation through -organic sensation. - -Moreover, as we go through the literature of the dream, it becomes quite -obvious that some of the authors (Maury,[48] Weygandt[75]) have been led -to the study of dream problems by the influence of their own -pathological state on the content of their dreams. - -The addition to dream sources from these undoubtedly established facts -is, however, not as important as one might be led to suppose; for the -dream is a phenomenon which occurs in healthy persons—perhaps in all -persons, and every night—and a pathological state of the organs is -apparently not one of its indispensable conditions. For us, however, the -question is not whence particular dreams originate, but what may be the -exciting source for the ordinary dreams of normal persons. - -But we need go only a step further to find a dream source which is more -prolific than any of those mentioned above, which indeed promises to be -inexhaustible in every case. If it is established that the bodily organs -become in sickness an exciting source of dreams, and if we admit that -the mind, diverted during sleep from the outer world, can devote more -attention to the interior of the body, we may readily assume that the -organs need not necessarily become diseased in order to permit stimuli, -which in some way or other grow into dream pictures, to reach the -sleeping mind. What in the waking state we broadly perceive as general -sensation, distinguishable by its quality alone, to which, in the -opinion of the physicians, all the organic systems contribute their -shares—this general sensation at night attaining powerful efficiency and -becoming active with its individual components—would naturally furnish -the most powerful as well as the most common source for the production -of the dream presentations. It still remains, however, to examine -according to what rule the organic sensations become transformed into -dream presentations. - -The theory of the origin of dreams just stated has been the favourite -with all medical authors. The obscurity which conceals the essence of -our being—the “_moi splanchnique_,” as Tissié terms it—from our -knowledge and the obscurity of the origin of the dream correspond too -well not to be brought into relation with each other. The train of -thought which makes organic sensation the inciter of the dream has -besides another attraction for the physician, inasmuch as it favours the -etiological union of the dream and mental diseases, which show so many -agreements in their manifestations, for alterations in the organic -sensations and excitations emanating from the inner organs are both of -wide significance in the origin of the psychoses. It is therefore not -surprising that the theory of bodily sensation can be traced to more -than one originator who has propounded it independently. - -A number of authors have been influenced by the train of ideas developed -by the philosopher Schopenhauer in 1851. Our conception of the universe -originates through the fact that our intellect recasts the impressions -coming to it from without in the moulds of time, space, and causality. -The sensations from the interior of the organism, proceeding from the -sympathetic nervous system, exert in the day-time an influence on our -mood for the most part unconscious. At night, however, when the -overwhelming influence of the day’s impressions is no longer felt, the -impressions pressing upward from the interior are able to gain -attention—just as in the night we hear the rippling of the spring that -was rendered inaudible by the noise of the day. In what other way, then, -could the intellect react upon these stimuli than by performing its -characteristic function? It will transform the stimuli into figures, -filling space and time, which move at the beginning of causality; and -thus the dream originates. Scherner,[58] and after him Volkelt,[72] -attempted to penetrate into closer relations between physical sensations -and dream pictures; but we shall reserve the discussion of these -attempts for the chapter on the theory of the dream. - -In a study particularly logical in its development, the psychiatrist -Krauss[39] found the origin of the dream as well as of deliria and -delusions in the same element, viz. the organically determined -sensation. According to this author there is hardly a place in the -organism which might not become the starting point of a dream or of a -delusion. Now organically determined sensations “may be divided into two -classes: (1) those of the total feeling (general sensations), (2) -specific sensations which are inherent in the principal systems of the -vegetative organism, which may be divided into five groups: (_a_) the -muscular, (_b_) the pneumatic, (_c_) the gastric, (_d_) the sexual, -(_e_) the peripheral sensations (p. 33 of the second article).” - -The origin of the dream picture on the basis of the physical sensations -is conceived by Krauss as follows: The awakened sensation evokes a -presentation related to it in accordance with some law of association, -and combines with this, thus forming an organic structure, towards -which, however, consciousness does not maintain its normal attitude. For -it does not bestow any attention on the sensation itself, but concerns -itself entirely with the accompanying presentation; this is likewise the -reason why the state of affairs in question should have been so long -misunderstood (p. 11, &c.). Krauss finds for this process the specific -term of “transubstantiation of the feeling into dream pictures” (p. 24). - -That the organic bodily sensations exert some influence on the formation -of the dream is nowadays almost universally acknowledged, but the -question as to the law underlying the relation between the two is -answered in various ways and often in obscure terms. On the basis of the -theory of bodily excitation the special task of dream interpretation is -to trace back the content of a dream to the causative organic stimulus, -and if we do not recognise the rules of interpretation advanced by -Scherner,[58] we frequently find ourselves confronted with the awkward -fact that the organic exciting source reveals itself in the content of -the dream only. - -A certain agreement, however, is manifested in the interpretation of the -various forms of dreams which have been designated as “typical” because -they recur in so many persons with almost the same contents. Among these -are the well-known dreams of falling from heights, of the falling out of -teeth, of flying, and of embarrassment because of being naked or barely -clad. This last dream is said to be caused simply by the perception felt -in sleep that one has thrown off the bedcover and is exposed. The dream -of the falling out of teeth is explained by “dental irritation,” which -does not, however, of necessity imply a morbid state of excitation in -the teeth. According to Strümpell,[66] the flying dream is the adequate -picture used by the mind to interpret the sum of excitation emanating -from the rising and sinking of the pulmonary lobes after the cutaneous -sensation of the thorax has been reduced to insensibility. It is this -latter circumstance that causes a sensation related to the conception of -flying. Falling from a height in a dream is said to have its cause in -the fact that when unconsciousness of the sensation of cutaneous -pressure has set in, either an arm falls away from the body or a flexed -knee is suddenly stretched out, causing the feeling of cutaneous -pressure to return to consciousness, and the transition to consciousness -embodies itself psychically as a dream of falling. (Strümpell, p. 118). -The weakness of these plausible attempts at explanation evidently lies -in the fact that without any further elucidation they allow this or that -group of organic sensations to disappear from psychic perception or to -obtrude themselves upon it until the constellation favourable for the -explanation has been established. I shall, however, later have occasion -to recur to typical dreams and to their origin. - -From comparison of a series of similar dreams, M. Simon[63] endeavoured -to formulate certain rules for the influence of the organic sensations -on the determination of the resulting dream. He says (p. 34): “If any -organic apparatus, which during sleep normally participates in the -expression of an affect, for any reason merges into the state of -excitation to which it is usually aroused by that affect, the dream thus -produced will contain presentations which fit the affect.” - -Another rule reads as follows (p. 35): “If an organic apparatus is in a -state of activity, excitation, or disturbance during sleep, the dream -will bring ideas which are related to the exercise of the organic -function which is performed by that apparatus.” - -Mourly Vold[73] has undertaken to prove experimentally the influence -assumed by the theory of bodily sensation for a single territory. He has -made experiments in altering the positions of the sleeper’s limbs, and -has compared the resulting dream with his alterations. As a result he -reports the following theories:— - -1. The position of a limb in a dream corresponds approximately to that -of reality, _i.e._ we dream of a static condition of the limb which -corresponds to the real condition. - -2. When one dreams of a moving limb it always happens that one of the -positions occurring in the execution of this movement corresponds to the -real position. - -3. The position of one’s own limb may be attributed in the dream to -another person. - -4. One may dream further that the movement in question is impeded. - -5. The limb in any particular position may appear in the dream as an -animal or monster, in which case a certain analogy between the two is -established. - -6. The position of a limb may incite in the dream ideas which bear some -relation or other to this limb. Thus, _e.g._, if we are employed with -the fingers we dream of numerals. - -Such results would lead me to conclude that even the theory of bodily -sensation cannot fully extinguish the apparent freedom in the -determination of the dream picture to be awakened.[I] - -IV. _Psychic Exciting Sources._—In treating the relations of the dream -to the waking life and the origin of the dream material, we learned that -the earliest as well as the latest investigators agreed that men dream -of what they are doing in the day-time, and of what they are interested -in during the waking state. This interest continuing from waking life -into sleep, besides being a psychic tie joining the dream to life, also -furnishes us a dream source not to be under-estimated, which, taken with -those stimuli which become interesting and active during sleep, suffices -to explain the origin of all dream pictures. But we have also heard the -opposite of the above assertion, viz. that the dream takes the sleeper -away from the interests of the day, and that in most cases we do not -dream of things that have occupied our attention during the day until -after they have lost for the waking life the stimulus of actuality. -Hence in the analysis of the dream life we are reminded at every step -that it is inadmissible to frame general rules without making provision -for qualifications expressed by such terms as “frequently,” “as a rule,” -“in most cases,” and without preparing for the validity of the -exceptions. - -If the conscious interest, together with the inner and outer sleep -stimuli, sufficed to cover the etiology of the dreams, we ought to be in -a position to give a satisfactory account of the origin of all the -elements of a dream; the riddle of the dream sources would thus be -solved, leaving only the task of separating the part played by the -psychic and the somatic dream stimuli in individual dreams. But as a -matter of fact no such complete solution of a dream has ever been -accomplished in any case, and, what is more, every one attempting such -solution has found that in most cases there have remained a great many -components of the dream, the source of which he was unable to explain. -The daily interest as a psychic source of dreams is evidently not -far-reaching enough to justify the confident assertions to the effect -that we all continue our waking affairs in the dream. - -Other psychic sources of dreams are unknown. Hence, with the exception -perhaps of the explanation of dreams given by Scherner,[58] which will -be referred to later, all explanations found in the literature show a -large gap when we come to the derivation of the material for the -presentation pictures, which is most characteristic for the dream. In -this dilemma the majority of authors have developed a tendency to -depreciate as much as possible the psychic factor in the excitations of -dreams which is so difficult to approach. To be sure, they distinguish -as a main division of dreams the nerve-exciting and the association -dreams, and assert that the latter has its source exclusively in -reproduction (Wundt,[76] p. 365), but they cannot yet dismiss the doubt -whether “they do not appear without being impelled by the psychical -stimulus” (Volkelt,[72] p. 127). The characteristic quality of the pure -association dream is also found wanting. To quote Volkelt (p. 118): “In -the association dreams proper we can no longer speak of such a firm -nucleus. Here the loose grouping penetrates also into the centre of the -dream. The ideation which is already set free from reason and intellect -is here no longer held together by the more important psychical and -mental stimuli, but is left to its own aimless shifting and complete -confusion.” Wundt, too, attempts to depreciate the psychic factor in the -stimulation of dreams by declaring that the “phantasms of the dream -certainly are unjustly regarded as pure hallucinations, and that -probably most dream presentations are really illusions, inasmuch as they -emanate from slight sensory impressions which are never extinguished -during sleep” (p. 338, &c.). Weygandt[75] agrees with this view, but -generalises it. He asserts that “the first source of all dream -presentations is a sensory stimulus to which reproductive associations -are then joined” (p. 17). Tissié[68] goes still further in repressing -the psychic exciting sources (p. 183): “Les rêves d’origine absolument -psychique n’existent pas”; and elsewhere (p. 6), “Les pensées de nos -rêves nous viennent de dehors....” - -Those authors who, like the influential philosopher Wundt, adopt a -middle course do not fail to remark that in most dreams there is a -co-operation of the somatic stimuli with the psychic instigators of the -dream, the latter being either unknown or recognised as day interests. - -We shall learn later that the riddle of the dream formation can be -solved by the disclosure of an unsuspected psychic source of excitement. -For the present we shall not be surprised at the over-estimation of -those stimuli for the formation of the dream which do not originate from -psychic life. It is not merely because they alone can easily be found -and even confirmed by experiment, but the somatic conception of the -origin of dreams thoroughly corresponds to the mode of thinking in vogue -nowadays in psychiatry. Indeed, the mastery of the brain over the -organism is particularly emphasized; but everything that might prove an -independence of the psychic life from the demonstrable organic changes, -or a spontaneity in its manifestations, is alarming to the psychiatrist -nowadays, as if an acknowledgment of the same were bound to bring back -the times of natural philosophy and the metaphysical conception of the -psychic essence. The distrust of the psychiatrist has placed the psyche -under a guardian, so to speak, and now demands that none of its feelings -shall divulge any of its own faculties; but this attitude shows slight -confidence in the stability of the causal concatenation which extends -between the material and the psychic. Even where on investigation the -psychic can be recognised as the primary course of a phenomenon, a more -profound penetration will some day succeed in finding a continuation of -the path to the organic determination of the psychic. But where the -psychic must be taken as the terminus for our present knowledge, it -should not be denied on that account. - -(_d_) _Why the Dream is Forgotten after Awakening._—That the dream -“fades away” in the morning is proverbial. To be sure, it is capable of -recollection. For we know the dream only by recalling it after -awakening; but very often we believe that we remember it only -incompletely, and that during the night there was more of it; we can -observe how the memory of a dream which has been still vivid in the -morning vanishes in the course of the day, leaving only a few small -fragments; we often know that we have been dreaming, but we do not know -what; and we are so well used to the fact that the dream is liable to be -forgotten that we do not reject as absurd the possibility that one may -have been dreaming even when one knows nothing in the morning of either -the contents or the fact of dreaming. On the other hand, it happens that -dreams manifest an extraordinary retentiveness in the memory. I have had -occasion to analyse with my patients dreams which had occurred to them -twenty-five years or more previously, and I can remember a dream of my -own which is separated from the present day by at least thirty-seven -years, and yet has lost nothing of its freshness in my memory. All this -is very remarkable, and for the present incomprehensible. - -The forgetting of dreams is treated in the most detailed manner by -Strümpell.[66] This forgetting is evidently a complex phenomenon; for -Strümpell does not explain it by a single reason, but by a considerable -number of reasons. - -In the first place, all those factors which produce forgetfulness in the -waking state are also determinant for the forgetting of dreams. When -awake we are wont soon to forget a large number of sensations and -perceptions because they are too feeble, and because they are connected -with a slight amount of emotional feeling. This is also the case with -many dream pictures; they are forgotten because they are too weak, while -stronger pictures in proximity will be remembered. Moreover, the factor -of intensity in itself is not the only determinant for the preservation -of the dream pictures; Strümpell, as well as other authors (Calkins), -admits that dream pictures are often rapidly forgotten, although they -are known to have been vivid, whereas among those that are retained in -memory there are many that are very shadowy and hazy. Besides, in the -waking state one is wont to forget easily what happened only once, and -to note more easily things of repeated occurrence. But most dream -pictures are single experiences,[J] and this peculiarity equally -contributes towards the forgetting of all dreams. Of greater -significance is a third motive for forgetting. In order that feelings, -presentations, thoughts and the like, should attain a certain degree of -memory, it is important that they should not remain isolated, but that -they should enter into connections and associations of a suitable kind. -If the words of a short verse are taken and mixed together, it will be -very difficult to remember them. “When well arranged in suitable -sequence one word will help another, and the whole remains as sense -easily and firmly in the memory for a long time. Contradictions we -usually retain with just as much difficulty and rarity as things -confused and disarranged.” Now dreams in most cases lack sense and -order. Dream compositions are by their very nature incapable of being -remembered, and they are forgotten because they usually crumble together -the very next moment. To be sure, these conclusions are not in full -accord with the observation of Radestock[54] (p. 168), that we retain -best just those dreams which are most peculiar. - -According to Strümpell, there are still other factors effective in the -forgetting of dreams which are derived from the relation of the dream to -the waking state. The forgetfulness of the waking consciousness for -dreams is evidently only the counterpart of the fact already mentioned, -that the dream (almost) never takes over successive memories from the -waking state, but only certain details of these memories which it tears -away from the habitual psychic connections in which they are recalled -while we are awake. The dream composition, therefore, has no place in -the company of psychic successions which fill the mind. It lacks all the -aids of memory. “In this manner the dream structure rises, as it were, -from the soil of our psychic life, and floats in psychic space like a -cloud in the sky, which the next breath of air soon dispels” (p. 87). -This is also aided by the fact that, upon awakening, the attention is -immediately seized by the inrushing sensory world, and only very few -dream pictures can withstand this power. They fade away before the -impressions of the new day like the glow of the stars before the -sunlight. - -As a last factor favouring the forgetting of dreams, we may mention the -fact that most people generally take little interest in their dreams. -One who investigates dreams for a time, and takes a special interest in -them, usually dreams more during that time than at any other; that is, -he remembers his dreams more easily and more frequently. - -Two other reasons for the forgetting of dreams added by Bonatelli (given -by Benini[3]) to those of Strümpell have already been included in the -latter; namely, (1) that the change of the general feeling between the -sleeping and waking states is unfavourable to the mutual reproductions, -and (2) that the different arrangement of the presentation material in -the dream makes the dream untranslatable, so to speak, for the waking -consciousness. - -It is the more remarkable, as Strümpell observes, that, in spite of all -these reasons for forgetting the dream, so many dreams are retained in -memory. The continued efforts of the authors to formulate laws for the -remembering of dreams amounts to an admission that here too there is -something puzzling and unsolved. Certain peculiarities relating to the -memory of dreams have been particularly noticed of late, _e.g._, that a -dream which is considered forgotten in the morning may be recalled in -the course of the day through a perception which accidentally touches -the forgotten content of the dream (Radestock,[54] Tissié[68]). The -entire memory of the dream is open to an objection calculated to -depreciate its value very markedly in critical eyes. One may doubt -whether our memory, which omits so much from the dream, does not falsify -what it retained. - -Such doubts relating to the exactness of the reproduction of the dream -are expressed by Strümpell when he says: “It therefore easily happens -that the active consciousness involuntarily inserts much in recollection -of the dream; one imagines one has dreamt all sorts of things which the -actual dream did not contain.” - -Jessen[36] (p. 547) expresses himself very decidedly: “Moreover we must -not lose sight of the fact, hitherto little heeded, that in the -investigation and interpretation of orderly and logical dreams we almost -always play with the truth when we recall a dream to memory. -Unconsciously and unwittingly we fill up the gaps and supplement the -dream pictures. Rarely, and perhaps never, has a connected dream been as -connected as it appears to us in memory. Even the most truth-loving -person can hardly relate a dream without exaggerating and embellishing -it. The tendency of the human mind to conceive everything in connection -is so great that it unwittingly supplies the deficiencies of connection -if the dream is recalled somewhat disconnectedly.” - -The observations of V. Eggers,[20] though surely independently -conceived, sound almost like a translation of Jessen’s words: “... -L’observation des rêves a ses difficultés spéciales et le seul moyen -d’éviter toute erreur en pareille matière est de confier au papier sans -le moindre retard ce que l’on vient d’éprouver et de remarquer; sinon, -l’oubli vient vite ou total ou partiel; l’oubli total est sans gravité; -mais l’oubli partiel est perfide; car si l’on se met ensuite à raconter -ce que l’on n’a pas oublié, on est exposé à compléter par imagination -les fragments incohérents et disjoints fourni par la mémoire ...; on -devient artiste à son insu, et le récit, périodiquement répété s’impose -à la créance de son auteur, qui, de bonne foi, le présente comme un fait -authentique, dûment établi selon les bonnes méthodes....” - -Similarly Spitta,[64] who seems to think that it is only in our attempt -to reproduce the dream that we put in order the loosely associated dream -elements: “To make connection out of disconnection, that is, to add the -process of logical connection which is absent in the dream.” - -As we do not at present possess any other objective control for the -reliability of our memory, and as indeed such a control is impossible in -examining the dream which is our own experience, and for which our -memory is the only source, it is a question what value we may attach to -our recollections of dreams. - -(_e_) _The Psychological Peculiarities of Dreams._—In the scientific -investigation of the dream we start with the assumption that the dream -is an occurrence of our own psychic activity; nevertheless the finished -dream appears to us as something strange, the authorship of which we are -so little forced to recognise that we can just as easily say “a dream -appeared to me,” as “I have dreamt.” Whence this “psychic strangeness” -of the dream? According to our discussion of the sources of dreams we -may suppose that it does not depend on the material reaching the dream -content; because this is for the most part common to the dream life and -waking life. One may ask whether in the dream it is not changes in the -psychic processes which call forth this impression, and may so put to -test a psychological characteristic of the dream. - -No one has more strongly emphasized the essential difference between -dream and waking life, and utilised this difference for more -far-reaching conclusions, than G. Th. Fechner[25] in some observations -in his _Elements of Psychophysic_ (p. 520, part 11). He believes that -“neither the simple depression of conscious psychic life under the main -threshold,” nor the distraction of attention from the influences of the -outer world, suffices to explain the peculiarities of the dream life as -compared with the waking life. He rather believes that the scene of -dreams is laid elsewhere than in the waking presentation life. “If the -scene of the psychophysical activity were the same during the sleeping -and the waking states, the dream, in my opinion, could only be a -continuation of the waking ideation maintaining itself at a lower degree -of intensity, and must moreover share with the latter its material and -form. But the state of affairs is quite different.” - -What Fechner really meant has never been made clear, nor has anybody -else, to my knowledge, followed further the road, the clue to which he -indicated in this remark. An anatomical interpretation in the sense of -physiological brain localisations, or even in reference to histological -sections of the cerebral cortex, will surely have to be excluded. The -thought may, however, prove ingenious and fruitful if it can be referred -to a psychic apparatus which is constructed out of many instances placed -one behind another. - -Other authors have been content to render prominent one or another of -the tangible psychological peculiarities of the dream life, and perhaps -to take these as a starting point for more far-reaching attempts at -explanation. - -It has been justly remarked that one of the main peculiarities of the -dream life appears even in the state of falling asleep, and is to be -designated as the phenomenon inducing sleep. According to -Schleiermacher[61] (p. 351), the characteristic part of the waking state -is the fact that the psychic activity occurs in ideas rather than in -pictures. But the dream thinks in pictures, and one may observe that -with the approach of sleep the voluntary activities become difficult in -the same measure as the involuntary appear, the latter belonging wholly -to the class of pictures. The inability for such presentation work as we -perceive to be intentionally desired, and the appearance of pictures -which is regularly connected with this distraction, these are two -qualities which are constant in the dream, and which in its -psychological analysis we must recognise as essential characters of the -dream life. Concerning the pictures—the hypnogogic hallucinations—we -have discovered that even in their content they are identical with the -dream pictures. - -The dream therefore thinks preponderately, but not exclusively, in -visual pictures. It also makes use of auditory pictures, and to a lesser -extent of the impressions of the other senses. Much is also simply -thought or imagined (probably represented by remnants of word -presentations), just as in the waking state. But still what is -characteristic for the dream is only those elements of the content which -act like pictures, _i.e._ which resemble more the perceptions than the -memory presentations. Disregarding all the discussions concerning the -nature of hallucinations, familiar to every psychiatrist, we can say, -with all well-versed authors, that the dream hallucinates, that is, -replaces thoughts through hallucinations. In this respect there is no -difference between visual and acoustic presentations; it has been -noticed that the memory of a succession of sounds with which one falls -asleep becomes transformed while sinking into sleep into an -hallucination of the same melody, so as to make room again on awakening, -which may repeatedly alternate with falling into a slumber, for the -softer memory presentations which are differently formed in quality. - -The transformation of an idea into an hallucination is not the only -deviation of the dream from a waking thought which perhaps corresponds -to it. From these pictures the dream forms a situation, it presents -something in the present, it dramatises an idea, as Spitta[64] (p. 145) -puts it.[K] But the characteristic of this side of the dream life -becomes complete only when it is remembered that while dreaming we do -not—as a rule; the exceptions require a special explanation—imagine that -we are thinking, but that we are living through an experience, _i.e._, -we accept the hallucination with full belief. The criticism that this -has not been experienced but only thought in a peculiar -manner—dreamt—comes to us only on awakening. This character -distinguishes the genuine sleeping dream from day dreaming, which is -never confused with reality. - -The characteristics of the dream life thus far considered have been -summed up by Burdach[8] (p. 476) in the following sentences: “As -characteristic features of the dream we may add (_a_) that the -subjective activity of our mind appears as objective, inasmuch as our -faculty of perception perceives the products of phantasy as if they were -sensory activities ... (_b_) sleep abrogates one’s self-command, hence -falling asleep necessitates a certain amount of passivity.... The -slumber pictures are conditioned by the relaxation of one’s -self-command.” - -It is a question now of attempting to explain the credulity of the mind -in reference to the dream hallucinations, which can only appear after -the suspension of a certain arbitrary activity. Strümpell[66] asserts -that the mind behaves in this respect correctly, and in conformity with -its mechanism. The dream elements are by no means mere presentations, -but true and real experiences of the mind, similar to those that appear -in the waking state as a result of the senses (p. 34). Whereas in the -waking state the mind represents and thinks in word pictures and -language, in the dream it represents and thinks in real tangible -pictures (p. 35). Besides, the dream manifests a consciousness of space -by transferring the sensations and pictures, just as in the waking -state, into an outer space (p. 36). It must therefore be admitted that -the mind in the dream is in the same relation to its pictures and -perceptions as in the waking state (p. 43). If, however, it is thereby -led astray, this is due to the fact that it lacks in sleep the criticism -which alone can distinguish between the sensory perceptions emanating -from within or from without. It cannot subject its pictures to the tests -which alone can prove their objective reality. It furthermore neglects -to differentiate between pictures that are arbitrarily interchanged and -others where there is no free choice. It errs because it cannot apply to -its content the law of causality (p. 58). In brief, its alienation from -the outer world contains also the reason for its belief in the -subjective dream world. - -Delbœuf[16] reaches the same conclusion through a somewhat different -line of argument. We give to the dream pictures the credence of reality -because in sleep we have no other impressions to compare them with, -because we are cut off from the outer world. But it is not perhaps -because we are unable to make tests in our sleep, that we believe in the -truth of our hallucinations. The dream may delude us with all these -tests, it may make us believe that we may touch the rose that we see in -the dream, and still we only dream. According to Delbœuf there is no -valid criterion to show whether something is a dream or a conscious -reality, except—and that only in practical generality—the fact of -awakening. “I declare delusional everything that is experienced between -the period of falling asleep and awakening, if I notice on awakening -that I lie in my bed undressed” (p. 84). “I have considered the dream -pictures real during sleep in consequence of the mental habit, which -cannot be put to sleep, of perceiving an outer world with which I can -contrast my ego.”[L] - -As the deviation from the outer world is taken as the stamp for the most -striking characteristics of the dream, it will be worth while mentioning -some ingenious observations of old Burdach[8] which will throw light on -the relation of the sleeping mind to the outer world and at the same -time serve to prevent us from over-estimating the above deductions. -“Sleep results only under the condition,” says Burdach, “that the mind -is not excited by sensory stimuli ... but it is not the lack of sensory -stimuli that conditions sleep, but rather a lack of interest for the -same; some sensory impressions are even necessary in so far as they -serve to calm the mind; thus the miller can fall asleep only when he -hears the rattling of his mill, and he who finds it necessary to burn a -light at night, as a matter of precaution, cannot fall asleep in the -dark” (p. 457). - -“The psyche isolates itself during sleep from the outer world, and -withdraws from the periphery.... Nevertheless, the connection is not -entirely interrupted; if one did not hear and feel even during sleep, -but only after awakening, he would certainly never awake. The -continuance of sensation is even more plainly shown by the fact that we -are not always awakened by the mere sensory force of the impression, but -by the psychic relation of the same; an indifferent word does not arouse -the sleeper, but if called by name he awakens ...: hence the psyche -differentiates sensations during sleep.... It is for this reason that we -may be awakened by the lack of a sensory stimulus if it relates to the -presentation of an important thing; thus one awakens when the light is -extinguished, and the miller when the mill comes to a standstill; that -is, the awakening is due to the cessation of a sensory activity, which -presupposes that it has been perceived, and that it has not disturbed -the mind, being indifferent or rather gratifying” (p. 460, &c.). - -If we are willing to disregard these objections, which are not to be -taken lightly, we still must admit that the qualities of the dream life -thus far considered, which originate by withdrawing from the outer -world, cannot fully explain the strangeness of the dream. For otherwise -it would be possible to change back the hallucinations of the dream into -presentations and the situations of the dream into thoughts, and thus to -perform the task of dream interpretation. Now this is what we do when we -reproduce the dream from memory after awakening, and whether we are -fully or only partially successful in this back translation the dream -still retains its mysteriousness undiminished. - -Furthermore all the authors assume unhesitatingly that still other more -far-reaching alterations take place in the presentation material of -waking life. One of them, Strümpell,[66] expresses himself as follows -(p. 17): “With the cessation of the objectively active outlook and of -the normal consciousness, the psyche loses the foundation in which were -rooted the feelings, desires, interests, and actions. Those psychic -states, feelings, interests, estimates which cling in the waking state -to the memory pictures also succumb to ... an obscure pressure, in -consequence of which their connection with the pictures becomes severed; -the perception pictures of things, persons, localities, events, and -actions of the waking state are singly very abundantly reproduced, but -none of these brings along its psychic value. The latter is removed from -them, and hence they float about in the mind dependent upon their own -resources....” - -This deprivation the picture suffers of its psychic value, which again -goes back to the derivation from the outer world, is according to -Strümpell mainly responsible for the impression of strangeness with -which the dream is confronted in our memory. - -We have heard that even falling asleep carries with it the abandonment -of one of the psychic activities—namely, the voluntary conduct of the -presentation course. Thus the supposition, suggested also by other -grounds, obtrudes itself, that the sleeping state may extend its -influence also over the psychic functions. One or the other of these -functions is perhaps entirely suspended; whether the remaining ones -continue to work undisturbed, whether they can furnish normal work under -the circumstances, is the next question. The idea occurs to us that the -peculiarities of the dream may be explained through the inferior psychic -activity during the sleeping state, but now comes the impression made by -the dream upon our waking judgment which is contrary to such a -conception. The dream is disconnected, it unites without hesitation the -worst contradictions, it allows impossibilities, it disregards our -authoritative knowledge from the day, and evinces ethical and moral -dulness. He who would behave in the waking state as the dream does in -its situations would be considered insane. He who in the waking state -would speak in such manner or report such things as occur in the dream -content, would impress us as confused and weak-minded. Thus we believe -that we are only finding words for the fact when we place but little -value on the psychic activity in the dream, and especially when we -declare that the higher intellectual activities are suspended or at -least much impaired in the dream. - -With unusual unanimity—the exceptions will be dealt with elsewhere—the -authors have pronounced their judgments on the dream—such judgments as -lead immediately to a definite theory or explanation of the dream life. -It is time that I should supplement the _résumé_ which I have just given -with a collection of the utterances of different authors—philosophers -and physicians—on the psychological character of the dream. - -According to Lemoine,[42] the incoherence of the dream picture is the -only essential character of the dream. - -Maury[48] agrees with him; he says (p. 163): “Il n’y a pas des rêves -absolument raisonnables et qui ne contiennent quelque incohérence, -quelque anachronisme, quelque absurdité.” - -According to Hegel, quoted by Spitta,[64] the dream lacks all objective -and comprehensible connection. - -Dugas[19] says: “Le rêve, c’est l’anarchie psychique, affective et -mentale, c’est le jeu des fonctions livrées à elles-mêmes et s’exerçant -sans contrôle et sans but; dans le rêve l’esprit est un automate -spirituel.” - -“The relaxation, solution, and confusion of the presentation life which -is held together through the logical force of the central ego” is -conceded even by Volkelt[72] (p. 14), according to whose theory the -psychic activity during sleep seems in no way aimless. - -The absurdity of the presentation connections appearing in the dream can -hardly be more strongly condemned than it was by Cicero (_De Divin._ -II.): “Nihil tam praepostere, tam incondite, tam monstruose cogitari -potest, quod non possimus somniare.” - -Fechner[52] says (p. 522): “It is as if the psychological activity were -transferred from the brain of a reasonable being into the brain of a -fool.” - -Radestock[35] (p. 145) says: “It seems indeed impossible to recognise in -this absurd action any firm law. Having withdrawn itself from the strict -police of the rational will guiding the waking presentation life, and of -the attention, the dream whirls everything about kaleidoscopically in -mad play.” - -Hildebrandt[35] (p. 45) says: “What wonderful jumps the dreamer allows -himself, _e.g._, in his chain of reasoning! With what unconcern he sees -the most familiar laws of experience turned upside down! What ridiculous -contradictions he can tolerate in the orders of nature and society -before things go too far, as we say, and the overstraining of the -nonsense brings an awakening! We often multiply quite unconcernedly: -three times three make twenty; we are not at all surprised when a dog -recites poetry for us, when a dead person walks to his grave, and when a -rock swims on the water; we go in all earnestness by high command to the -duchy of Bernburg or the principality of Lichtenstein in order to -observe the navy of the country, or we allow ourselves to be recruited -as a volunteer by Charles XII. shortly before the battle of Poltawa.” - -Binz[4] (p. 33) points to a dream theory resulting from the impressions. -“Among ten dreams nine at least have an absurd content. We unite in them -persons or things which do not bear the slightest relation to one -another. In the next moment, as in a kaleidoscope, the grouping changes, -if possible to one more nonsensical and irrational than before; thus the -changing play of the imperfectly sleeping brain continues until we -awaken, and put our hand to our forehead and ask ourselves whether we -really still possess the faculty of rational imagination and thought.” - -Maury[48] (p. 50) finds for the relation of the dream picture to the -waking thoughts, a comparison most impressive for the physician: “La -production de ces images que chez l’homme éveillé fait le plus souvent -naître la volonté, correspond, pour l’intelligence, à ce que cont pour -la motilité certains mouvements que nous offrent la chorée et les -affections paralytiques....” For the rest, he considers the dream “toute -une série de dégradation de la faculté pensant et raisonant” (p. 27). - -It is hardly necessary to mention the utterances of the authors which -repeat Maury’s assertion for the individual higher psychic activities. - -According to Strümpell,[66] some logical mental operations based on -relations and connections disappear in the dream—naturally also at -points where the nonsense is not obvious (p. 26). According to -Spitta,[64] (p. 148) the presentations in the dream are entirely -withdrawn from the laws of causality. Radestock[54] and others emphasize -the weakness of judgment and decision in the dream. According to -Jodl[37] (p. 123), there is no critique in the dream, and no correcting -of a series of perceptions through the content of the sum of -consciousness. The same author states that “all forms of conscious -activity occur in the dream, but they are imperfect, inhibited, and -isolated from one another.” The contradictions manifested in the dream -towards our conscious knowledge are explained by Stricker[77][78] (and -many others), on the ground that facts are forgotten in the dream and -logical relations between presentations are lost (p. 98), &c., &c. - -The authors who in general speak thus unfavourably about the psychic -capacities in the dream, nevertheless admit that the dream retains a -certain remnant of psychic activity. Wundt,[76] whose teaching has -influenced so many other workers in the dream problems, positively -admits this. One might inquire as to the kind and behaviour of the -remnants of the psychic life which manifest themselves in the dream. It -is now quite universally acknowledged that the reproductive capacity, -the memory in the dream, seems to have been least affected; indeed it -may show a certain superiority over the same function in the waking life -(_vid. supra_, p. 10), although a part of the absurdities of the dream -are to be explained by just this forgetfulness of the dream life. -According to Spitta,[64] it is the emotional life of the psyche that is -not overtaken by sleep and that then directs the dream. “By emotion -[“Gemüth”] we understand the constant comprehension of the feelings as -the inmost subjective essence of man” (p. 84). - -Scholz[59] (p. 37) sees a psychic activity manifested in the dream in -the “allegorising interpretation” to which the dream material is -subjected. Siebeck[62] verifies also in the dream the “supplementary -interpretative activity” (p. 11) which the mind exerts on all that is -perceived and viewed. The judgment of the apparently highest psychic -function, the consciousness, presents for the dream a special -difficulty. As we can know anything only through consciousness, there -can be no doubt as to its retention; Spitta, however, believes that only -consciousness is retained in the dream, and not self-consciousness. -Delbœuf[16] confesses that he is unable to conceive this -differentiation. - -The laws of association which govern the connection of ideas hold true -also for the dream pictures; indeed, their domination evinces itself in -a purer and stronger expression in the dream than elsewhere. -Strümpell[62] (p. 70) says: “The dream follows either the laws of -undisguised presentations as it seems exclusively or organic stimuli -along with such presentations, that is, without being influenced by -reflection and reason, æsthetic sense, and moral judgment.” The authors -whose views I reproduce here conceive the formation of the dream in -about the following manner: The sum of sensation stimuli affecting sleep -from the various sources, discussed elsewhere, at first awaken in the -mind a sum of presentations which represent themselves as hallucinations -(according to Wundt, it is more correct to say as illusions, because of -their origin from outer and inner stimuli). These unite with one another -according to the known laws of association, and, following the same -rules, in turn evoke a new series of presentations (pictures). This -entire material is then elaborated as well as possible by the still -active remnant of the organising and thinking mental faculties (_cf._ -Wundt[76] and Weygandt[75]). But thus far no one has been successful in -finding the motive which would decide that the awakening of pictures -which do not originate objectively follow this or that law of -association. - -But it has been repeatedly observed that the associations which connect -the dream presentations with one another are of a particular kind, and -different from those found in the waking mental activity. Thus -Volkelt[72] says: “In the dream, the ideas chase and hunt each other on -the strength of accidental similarities and barely perceptible -connections. All dreams are pervaded by such loose and free -associations.” Maury[48] attaches great value to this characteristic of -connection between presentations, which allows him to bring the dream -life in closer analogy to certain mental disturbances. He recognises two -main characters of the _délire_: “(1) une action spontanée et comme -automatique de l’esprit; (2) une association vicieuse et irregulière des -idées” (p. 126). Maury gives us two excellent examples from his own -dreams, in which the mere similarity of sound forms the connection of -the dream presentations. He dreamed once that he undertook a pilgrimage -(_pélerinage_) to Jerusalem or Mecca. After many adventures he was with -the chemist Pelletier; the latter after some talk gave him a zinc shovel -(_pelle_) which became his long battle sword in the dream fragment which -followed (p. 137). On another occasion he walked in a dream on the -highway and read the kilometres on the milestones; presently he was with -a spice merchant who had large scales with which to weigh Maury; the -spice merchant then said to him: “You are not in Paris; but on the -island Gilolo.” This was followed by many pictures, in which he saw the -flower Lobelia, then the General Lopez, of whose demise he had read -shortly before. He finally awoke while playing a game of lotto. - -We are, however, quite prepared to hear that this depreciation of the -psychic activities of the dream has not remained without contradiction -from the other side. To be sure, contradiction seems difficult here. Nor -is it of much significance that one of the depreciators of dream life, -Spitta[64] (p. 118), assures us that the same psychological laws which -govern the waking state rule the dream also, or that another (Dugas[19]) -states: “Le rêve n’est pas déraison ni même irraison pure,” as long as -neither of them has made any effort to bring this estimation into -harmony with the psychic anarchy and dissolution of all functions in the -dream described by them. Upon others, however, the possibility seems to -have dawned that the madness of the dream is perhaps not without its -method—that it is perhaps only a sham, like that of the Danish prince, -to whose madness the intelligent judgment here cited refers. These -authors must have refrained from judging by appearances, or the -appearance which the dream showed to them was quite different. - -Without wishing to linger at its apparent absurdity, Havelock Ellis[23] -considers the dream as “an archaic world of vast emotions and imperfect -thoughts,” the study of which may make us acquainted with primitive -stages of development of the psychic life. A thinker like Delbœuf[16] -asserts—to be sure without adducing proof against the contradictory -material, and hence indeed unjustly: “Dans le sommeil, hormis la -perception, toutes les facultés de l’esprit, intelligence, imagination, -mémoire, volonté, moralité, restant intactes dans leur essence; -seulement, elles s’appliquent à des objets imaginaires et mobiles. Le -songeur est un acteur qui joue à volonté les fous et les sages, les -bourreaux et les victimes, les nains et les géants, les démons et les -anges” (p. 222). The Marquis of Hervey, who is sharply controverted by -Maury,[48] and whose work I could not obtain despite all effort, seems -to combat most energetically the under-estimation of the psychic -capacity in the dream. Maury speaks of him as follows (p. 19): “M. le -Marquis d’Hervey prête à l’intelligence, durant le sommeil toute sa -liberté d’action et d’attention et il ne semble faire consister le -sommeil que dans l’occlusion des sens, dans leur fermeture au monde -extérieur; en sorte que l’homme qui dort ne se distingué guère, selon sa -manière de voir, de l’homme qui laisse vaguer sa pensée en se bouchant -les sens; toute la différence qui séparé alors la pensée ordinaire du -celle du dormeur c’est que, chez celui-ci, l’idée prend une forme -visible, objective et ressemble, à s’y méprendre, à la sensation -déterminée par les objets extérieurs; le souvenir revêt l’apparence du -fait présent.” - -Maury adds, however; “Qu’il y a une différence de plus et capitale à -savoir que les facultés intellectuelles de l’homme endormi n’offrent pas -l’équilibre qu’elles gardent chez l’homme l’éveillé.” - -The scale of the estimation of the dream as a psychic product has a -great range in the literature; it reaches from the lowest -under-estimation, the expression of which we have come to know, through -the idea of a value not yet revealed to the over-estimation which places -the dream far above the capacities of the waking life. Hildebrandt,[35] -who, as we know, sketches the psychological characteristics into three -antinomies, sums up in the third of these contradistinctions the extreme -points of this series as follows (p. 19): “It is between a climax, often -an involution which raises itself to virtuosity, and on the other hand a -decided diminution and weakening of the psychic life often leading below -the human niveau.” - -“As for the first, who could not confirm from his own experience that, -in the creations and weavings of the genius of the dream, there -sometimes comes to light a profundity and sincerity of emotion, a -tenderness of feeling, a clearness of view, a fineness of observation, -and a readiness of wit, all which we should modestly have to deny that -we possess as a constant property during the waking life? The dream has -a wonderful poetry, an excellent allegory, an incomparable humour, and a -charming irony. It views the world under the guise of a peculiar -idealisation, and often raises the effect of its manifestations into the -most ingenious understanding of the essence lying at its basis. It -represents for us earthly beauty in true heavenly radiance, the sublime -in the highest majesty, the actually frightful in the most gruesome -figure, and the ridiculous in the indescribably drastic comical; and at -times we are so full of one of these impressions after awakening that we -imagine that such a thing has never been offered to us by the real -world.” - -One may ask, is it really the same object that the depreciating remarks -and these inspired praises are meant for? Have the latter overlooked the -stupid dreams and the former the thoughtful and ingenious dreams? And if -both kinds do occur—that is, dreams that merit to be judged in this or -that manner—does it not seem idle to seek the psychological character of -the dream? Would it not suffice to state that everything is possible in -the dream, from the lowest depreciation of the psychic life to a raising -of the same which is unusual in the waking state? As convenient as this -solution would be it has this against it, that behind the efforts of all -dream investigators, it seems to be presupposed that there is such a -definable character of the dream, which is universally valid in its -essential features and which must eliminate these contradictions. - -It is unquestionable that the psychic capacities of the dream have found -quicker and warmer recognition in that intellectual period which now -lies behind us, when philosophy rather than exact natural science ruled -intelligent minds. Utterances like those of Schubert, that the dream -frees the mind from the power of outer nature, that it liberates the -soul from the chains of the sensual, and similar opinions expressed by -the younger Fichte,[M] and others, who represent the dream as a soaring -up of the psychic life to a higher stage, hardly seem conceivable to us -to-day; they are only repeated at present by mystics and devotees. With -the advance of the scientific mode of thinking, a reaction took place in -the estimation of the dream. It is really the medical authors who are -most prone to underrate the psychic activity in the dream, as being -insignificant and invaluable, whereas, philosophers and unprofessional -observers—amateur psychologists—whose contributions in this realm can -surely not be overlooked, in better agreement with the popular ideas, -have mostly adhered to the psychic value of the dream. He who is -inclined to underrate the psychic capacity in the dream prefers, as a -matter of course, the somatic exciting sources in the etiology of the -dream; he who leaves to the dreaming mind the greater part of its -capacities, naturally has no reason for not also admitting independent -stimuli for dreaming. - -Among the superior activities which, even on sober comparison, one is -tempted to ascribe to the dream life, memory is the most striking; we -have fully discussed the frequent experiences which prove this fact. -Another superiority of the dream life, frequently extolled by the old -authors, viz. that it can regard itself supreme in reference to distance -of time and space, can be readily recognised as an illusion. This -superiority, as observed by Hildebrandt,[35] is only illusional; the -dream takes as much heed of time and space as the waking thought, and -this because it is only a form of thinking. The dream is supposed to -enjoy still another advantage in reference to time; that is, it is -independent in still another sense of the passage of time. Dreams like -the guillotine dream of Maury,[48] reported above, seem to show that the -dream can crowd together more perception content in a very short space -of time than can be controlled by our psychic activity in the waking -mind. These conclusions have been controverted, however, by many -arguments; the essays of Le Lorrain[45] and Egger[20] “Concerning the -apparent duration of dreams” gave rise to a long and interesting -discussion which has probably not said the last word upon this delicate -and far-reaching question. - -That the dream has the ability to take up the intellectual work of the -day and bring to a conclusion what has not been settled during the day, -that it can solve doubt and problems, and that it may become the source -of new inspiration in poets and composers, seems to be indisputable, as -is shown by many reports and by the collection compiled by -Chabaneix.[11] But even if there be no dispute as to the facts, -nevertheless their interpretation is open in principle to a great many -doubts. - -Finally the asserted divinatory power of the dream forms an object of -contention in which hard unsurmountable reflection encounters obstinate -and continued faith. It is indeed just that we should refrain from -denying all that is based on fact in this subject, as there is a -possibility that a number of such cases may perhaps be explained on a -natural psychological basis. - -(_f_) _The Ethical Feelings in the Dream._—For reasons which will be -understood only after cognisance has been taken of my own investigations -of the dream, I have separated from the psychology of the dream the -partial problem whether and to what extent the moral dispositions and -feelings of the waking life extend into the dreams. The same -contradictions which we were surprised to observe in the authors’ -descriptions of all the other psychic capacities strike us again here. -Some affirm decidedly that the dream knows nothing of moral obligations; -others as decidedly that the moral nature of man remains even in his -dream life. - -A reference to our dream experience of every night seems to raise the -correctness of the first assertion beyond doubt. Jessen[36] says (p. -553): “Nor does one become better or more virtuous in the dream; on the -contrary, it seems that conscience is silent in the dream, inasmuch as -one feels no compassion and can commit the worst crimes, such as theft, -murder, and assassination, with perfect indifference and without -subsequent remorse.” - -Radestock[54] (p. 146) says: “It is to be noticed that in the dream the -associations terminate and the ideas unite without being influenced by -reflection and reason, æsthetic taste, and moral judgment; the judgment -is extremely weak, and ethical indifference reigns supreme.” - -Volkelt[72] (p. 23) expresses himself as follows: “As every one knows, -the sexual relationship in the dream is especially unbridled. Just as -the dreamer himself is shameless in the extreme, and wholly lacking -moral feeling and judgment, so also he sees others, even the most -honoured persons, engaged in actions which even in thought he would -blush to associate with them in his waking state.” - -Utterances like those of Schopenhauer, that in the dream every person -acts and talks in accordance with his character, form the sharpest -contrast to those mentioned above. R. P. Fischer[N] maintains that the -subjective feelings and desires or affects and passions manifest -themselves in the wilfulness of the dream life, and that the moral -characteristics of a person are mirrored in his dream. - -Haffner[32] (p. 25): “With rare exceptions ... a virtuous person will be -virtuous also in his dreams; he will resist temptation, and show no -sympathy for hatred, envy, anger, and all other vices; while the sinful -person will, as a rule, also find in his dreams the pictures which he -has before him while awake.” - -Scholz[59] (p. 36): “In the dream there is truth; despite all masking in -pride or humility, we still recognise our own self.... The honest man -does not commit any dishonourable offence even in the dream, or, if this -does occur, he is terrified over it as if over something foreign to his -nature. The Roman emperor who ordered one of his subjects to be executed -because he dreamed that he cut off the emperor’s head, was not wrong in -justifying his action on the ground that he who has such dreams must -have similar thoughts while awake. About a thing that can have no place -in our mind we therefore say significantly: ‘I would never dream of such -a thing.’” - -Pfaff,[O] varying a familiar proverb, says: “Tell me for a time your -dreams, and I will tell you what you are within.” - -The short work of Hildebrandt,[35] from which I have already taken so -many quotations, a contribution to the dream problem as complete and as -rich in thought as I found in the literature, places the problem of -morality in the dream as the central point of its interest. For -Hildebrandt, too, it is a strict rule that the purer the life, the purer -the dream; the impurer the former, the impurer the latter. - -The moral nature of man remains even in the dream: “But while we are not -offended nor made suspicious by an arithmetical error no matter how -obvious, by a reversal of science no matter how romantic, or by an -anachronism no matter how witty, we nevertheless do not lose sight of -the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, virtue and vice. -No matter how much of what follows us during the day may vanish in our -hours of sleep—Kant’s categorical imperative sticks to our heels as an -inseparable companion from whom we cannot rid ourselves even in -slumber.... This can be explained, however, only by the fact that the -fundamental in human nature, the moral essence, is too firmly fixed to -take part in the activity of the kaleidoscopic shaking up to which -phantasy, reason, memory, and other faculties of the same rank succumb -in the dream” (p. 45, &c.). - -In the further discussion of the subject we find remarkable distortion -and inconsequence in both groups of authors. Strictly speaking, interest -in immoral dreams would cease for all those who assert that the moral -personality of the person crumbles away in the dream. They could just as -calmly reject the attempt to hold the dreamer responsible for his -dreams, and to draw inferences from the badness of his dreams as to an -evil strain in his nature, as they rejected the apparently similar -attempt to demonstrate the insignificance of his intellectual life in -the waking state from the absurdity of his dreams. The others for whom -“the categorical imperative” extends also into the dream, would have to -accept full responsibility for the immoral dreams; it would only be -desirable for their own sake that their own objectionable dreams should -not lead them to abandon the otherwise firmly held estimation of their -own morality. - -Still it seems that no one knows exactly about himself how good or how -bad he is, and that no one can deny the recollection of his own immoral -dreams. For besides the opposition already mentioned in the criticism of -the morality of the dream, both groups of authors display an effort to -explain the origin of the immoral dream and a new opposition is -developed, depending on whether their origin is sought in the functions -of the psychic life or in the somatically determined injuries to this -life. The urgent force of the facts then permits the representatives of -the responsibility, as well as of the irresponsibility of the dream -life, to agree in the recognition of a special psychic source for the -immorality of dreams. - -All those who allow the continuance of the morality in the dream -nevertheless guard against accepting full responsibility for their -dreams. Haffner[32] says (p. 24): “We are not responsible for dreams -because the basis upon which alone our life has truth and reality is -removed from our thoughts.... Hence there can be no dream wishing and -dream acting, no virtue or sin.” Still the person is responsible for the -sinful dream in so far as he brings it about indirectly. Just as in the -waking state, it is his duty to cleanse his moral mind, particularly so -before retiring to sleep. - -The analysis of this mixture of rejection and recognition of -responsibility for the moral content of the dream is followed much -further by Hildebrandt. After specifying that the dramatic manner of -representation in the dream, the crowding together of the most -complicated processes of deliberation in the briefest period of time, -and the depreciation and the confusion of the presentation elements in -the dream admitted by him must be recognised as unfavourable to the -immoral aspect of dreams; he nevertheless confesses that, yielding to -the most earnest reflection, he is inclined simply to deny all -responsibility for faults and dream sins. - -(P. 49): “If we wish to reject very decisively any unjust accusation, -especially one that has reference to our intentions and convictions, we -naturally make use of the expression: I should never have dreamed of -such a thing. By this we mean to say, of course, that we consider the -realm of the dream the last and remotest place in which we are to be -held responsible for our thoughts, because there these thoughts are only -loosely and incoherently connected with our real being, so that we -should hardly still consider them as our own; but as we feel impelled -expressly to deny the existence of such thoughts, even in this realm, we -thus at the same time indirectly admit that our justification will not -be complete if it does not reach to that point. And I believe that, -though unconsciously, we here speak the language of truth.” - -(P. 52): “No dream thought can be imagined whose first motive has not -already moved through the mind while awake as some wish, desire, or -impulse.” Concerning this original impulse we must say that the dream -has not discovered it—it has only imitated and extended it, it has only -elaborated a bit of historical material which it has found in us, into -dramatic form; it enacts the words of the apostle: He who hates his -brother is a murderer. And whereas, after we awaken and become conscious -of our moral strength, we may smile at the boldly executed structure of -the depraved dream, the original formative material, nevertheless, has -no ridiculous side. One feels responsible for the transgressions of the -dreamer, not for the whole sum, but still for a certain percentage. “In -this sense, which is difficult to impugn, we understand the words of -Christ: Out of the heart come evil thoughts—for we can hardly help being -convinced that every sin committed in the dream brings with it at least -a vague minimum of guilt.” - -Hildebrandt thus finds the source of the immorality of dreams in the -germs and indications of evil impulses which pass through our minds -during the day as tempting thoughts, and he sees fit to add these -immoral elements to the moral estimation of the personality. It is the -same thoughts and the same estimation of these thoughts, which, as we -know, have caused devout and holy men of all times to lament that they -are evil sinners. - -There is certainly no reason to doubt the general occurrence of these -contrasting presentations—in most men and even also in other than -ethical spheres. The judgment of these at times has not been very -earnest. In Spitta[64] we find the following relevant expression from A. -Zeller (Article “Irre” in the _Allgemeinen Encyklopädie der -Wissenschaften_ of Ersch and Grüber, p. 144): “The mind is rarely so -happily organised as to possess at all times power enough not to be -disturbed, not only by unessential but also by perfectly ridiculous -ideas running counter to the usual clear trend of thought; indeed, the -greatest thinkers have had cause to complain of this dreamlike -disturbing and painful rabble of ideas, as it destroys their profoundest -reflection and their most sacred and earnest mental work.” - -A clearer light is thrown on the psychological status of this idea of -contrast by another observation of Hildebrandt, that the dream at times -allows us to glance into the deep and inmost recesses of our being, -which are generally closed to us in our waking state (p. 55). The same -knowledge is revealed by Kant in his _Anthropology_, when he states that -the dream exists in order to lay bare for us our hidden dispositions and -to reveal to us not what we are, but what we might have been if we had a -different education. Radestock[54] (p. 84) says that the dream often -only reveals to us what we do not wish to admit to ourselves, and that -we therefore unjustly condemn it as a liar and deceiver. That the -appearance of impulses which are foreign to our consciousness is merely -analogous to the already familiar disposition which the dream makes of -other material of the presentation, which is either absent or plays only -an insignificant part in the waking state, has been called to our -attention by observations like those of Benini,[3] who says: “Certe -nostre inclinazione che si credevano soffocate a spente da un pezzo, si -ridestano; passioni vecchie e sepolte rivivono; cose e persone a cui non -pensiamo mai, ci vengono dinanzi” (p. 149). Volkelt[72] expresses -himself in a similar way: “Even presentations which have entered into -our consciousness almost unnoticed, and have never perhaps been brought -out from oblivion, often announce through the dream their presence in -the mind” (p. 105). Finally, it is not out of place to mention here -that, according to Schleiermacher,[61] the state of falling asleep is -accompanied by the appearance of undesirable presentations (pictures). - -We may comprise under “undesirable presentations” this entire material -of presentations, the occurrence of which excites our wonder in immoral -as well as in absurd dreams. The only important difference consists in -the fact that our undesirable presentations in the moral sphere exhibit -an opposition to our other feelings, whereas the others simply appear -strange to us. Nothing has been done so far to enable us to remove this -difference through a more penetrating knowledge. - -But what is the significance of the appearance of undesirable -presentations in the dream? What inferences may be drawn for the -psychology of the waking and dreaming mind from these nocturnal -manifestations of contrasting ethical impulses? We may here note a new -diversity of opinion, and once more a different grouping of the authors. -The stream of thought followed by Hildebrandt, and by others who -represent his fundamental view, cannot be continued in any other way -than by ascribing to the immoral impulses a certain force even in the -waking state, which, to be sure, is inhibited from advancing to action, -and asserting that something falls off during sleep, which, having the -effect of an inhibition, has kept us from noticing the existence of such -an impulse. The dream thus shows the real, if not the entire nature of -man, and is a means of making the hidden psychic life accessible to our -understanding. It is only on such assumption that Hildebrandt can -attribute to the dream the rôle of monitor who calls our attention to -the moral ravages in the soul, just as in the opinion of physicians it -can announce a hitherto unobserved physical ailment. Spitta,[64] too, -cannot be guided by any other conception when he refers to the stream of -excitement which, _e.g._, flows in upon the psyche during puberty, and -consoles the dreamer by saying that he has done everything in his power -when he has led a strictly virtuous life during his waking state, when -he has made an effort to suppress the sinful thoughts as often as they -arise, and has kept them from maturing and becoming actions. According -to this conception, we might designate the “undesirable” presentations -as those that are “suppressed” during the day, and must recognise in -their appearance a real psychic phenomenon. - -If we followed other authors we would have no right to the last -inference. For Jessen[36] the undesirable presentations in the dream as -in the waking state, in fever and other deliria, merely have “the -character of a voluntary activity put to rest and a somewhat mechanical -process of pictures and presentations produced by inner impulses” (p. -360). An immoral dream proves nothing for the psychic life of the -dreamer except that he has in some way become cognizant of the ideas in -question; it is surely not a psychic impulse of his own. Another author, -Maury,[48] makes us question whether he, too, does not attribute to the -dream state the capacity for dividing the psychic activity into its -components instead of destroying it aimlessly. He speaks as follows -about dreams in which one goes beyond the bounds of morality: “Ce sont -nos penchants qui parlent et qui nous font agir, sans que la conscience -nous retienne, bien que parfois elle nous avertisse. J’ai mes défauts et -mes penchants vicieux; à l’état de veille, je tache de lutter contre -eux, et il m’arrive assez souvent de n’y pas succomber. Mais dans mes -songes j’y succombe toujours ou pour mieux dire j’agis, par leur -impulsion, sans crainte et sans remords.... Évidemment les visions qui -se déroulent devant ma pensée et qui constituent le rêve, me sont -suggérées par les incitations que je ressens et que ma volonté absente -ne cherche pas à refouler” (p. 113). - -If one believes in the capacity of the dream to reveal an actually -existing but repressed or concealed immoral disposition of the dreamer, -he could not emphasize his opinion more strongly than with the words of -Maury (p. 115): “En rêve l’homme se révèle donc tout entier à soi-même -dans sa nudité et sa misère natives. Dès qu’il suspend l’exercice de sa -volonté, il dévient le jouet de toutes les passions contre lesquelles, à -l’état de veille, la conscience, le sentiment d’honneur, la crainte nous -défendent.” In another place he finds the following striking words (p. -462): “Dans le rêve, c’est surtout l’homme instinctif que se révèle.... -L’homme revient pour ainsi dire à l’état de nature quand il rêve; mais -moins les idées acquises ont pénétré dans son esprit, plus les penchants -en désaccord avec elles conservent encore sur lui d’influence dans le -rêve.” He then mentions as an example that his dreams often show him as -a victim of just those superstitions which he most violently combats in -his writing. - -The value of all these ingenious observations for a psychological -knowledge of the dream life, however, is marred by Maury through the -fact that he refuses to recognise in the phenomena so correctly observed -by him any proof of the “automatisme psychologique” which in his opinion -dominates the dream life. He conceives this automatism as a perfect -contrast to the psychic activity. - -A passage in the studies on consciousness by Stricker[77] reads: “The -dream does not consist of delusions merely; if, _e.g._, one is afraid of -robbers in the dream, the robbers are, of course, imaginary, but the -fear is real. One’s attention is thus called to the fact that the -effective development in the dream does not admit of the judgment which -one bestows upon the rest of the dream content, and the problem arises -what part of the psychic processes in the dream may be real, _i.e._ what -part of them may demand to be enrolled among the psychic processes of -the waking state?” - -(_g_) _Dream Theories and Functions of the Dream._—A statement -concerning the dream which as far as possible attempts to explain from -one point of view many of its noted characters, and which at the same -time determines the relation of the dream to a more comprehensive sphere -of manifestations, may be called a theory of dreams. Individual theories -of the dream will be distinguished from one another through the fact -that they raise to prominence this or that characteristic of the dream, -and connect explanations and relations with it. It will not be -absolutely necessary to derive from the theory a function, _i.e._ a use -or any such activity of the dream, but our expectation, which is usually -adjusted to teleology, will nevertheless welcome those theories which -promise an understanding of the function of the dream. - -We have already become acquainted with many conceptions of the dream -which, more or less, merit the name of dream theories in this sense. The -belief of the ancients that the dream was sent by the gods in order to -guide the actions of man was a complete theory of the dream giving -information concerning everything in the dream worth knowing. Since the -dream has become an object of biological investigation we have a greater -number of theories, of which, however, some are very incomplete. - -If we waive completeness, we may attempt the following loose grouping of -dream theories based on their fundamental conception of the degree and -mode of the psychic activity in the dream:— - -1. Theories, like those of Delbœuf,[16] which allow the full psychic -activity of the waking state to continue into the dream. Here the mind -does not sleep; its apparatus remains intact, and, being placed under -the conditions different from the waking state, it must in normal -activity furnish results different from those of the waking state. In -these theories it is a question whether they are in position to derive -the distinctions between dreaming and waking thought altogether from the -determinations of the sleeping state. They moreover lack a possible -access to a function of the dream; one cannot understand why one dreams, -why the complicated mechanism of the psychic apparatus continues to play -even when it is placed under conditions for which it is not apparently -adapted. There remain only two expedient reactions—to sleep dreamlessly -or to awake when approached by disturbing stimuli—instead of the third, -that of dreaming. - -2. Theories which, on the contrary, assume for the dream a diminution -for the psychic activity, a loosening of the connections, and an -impoverishment in available material. In accordance with these theories, -one must assume for sleep a psychological character entirely different -from the one given by Delbœuf. Sleep extends far beyond the mind—it does -not consist merely in a shutting off of the mind from the outer world; -on the contrary, it penetrates into its mechanism, causing it at times -to become useless. If I may draw a comparison from psychiatrical -material, I may say that the first theories construct the dream like a -paranoia, while the second make it after the model of a dementia or an -amentia. - -The theory that only a fragment of the psychic activity paralysed by -sleep comes to expression is by far the favourite among the medical -writers and in the scientific world. As far as one may presuppose a more -general interest in dream interpretation, it may well be designated as -the ruling theory of the dream. It is to be emphasized with what -facility this particular theory escapes the worst rock threatening every -dream interpretation, that is to say, being shipwrecked upon one of the -contrasts embodied in the dream. As this theory considers the dream the -result of a partial waking (or as Herbart’s _Psychology_ of the dream -says, “a gradual, partial, and at the same time very anomalous waking”), -it succeeds in covering the entire series of inferior activities in the -dream which reveal themselves in its absurdities, up to the full -concentration of mental activity, by following a series of states which -become more and more awake until they reach full awakening. - -One who finds the psychological mode of expression indispensable, or who -thinks more scientifically, will find this theory of the dream expressed -in the discussion of Binz[4] (p. 43):— - -“This state [of numbness], however, gradually approaches its end in the -early morning hours. The accumulated material of fatigue in the albumen -of the brain gradually becomes less. It is gradually decomposed or -carried away by the constantly flowing circulation. Here and there some -masses of cells can be distinguished as awake, while all around -everything still remains in a state of torpidity. _The isolated work of -the individual groups_ now appears before our clouded consciousness, -which lacks the control of other parts of the brain governing the -associations. Hence the pictures created, which mostly correspond to the -objective impressions of the recent past, fit with each other in a wild -and irregular manner. The number of the brain cells set free becomes -constantly greater, the irrationality of the dream constantly less.” - -The conception of the dream as an incomplete, partial waking state, or -traces of its influence, can surely be found among all modern -physiologists and philosophers. It is most completely represented by -Maury.[48] It often seems as if this author represented to himself the -state of being awake or asleep in anatomical regions; at any rate it -appears to him that an anatomical province is connected with a definite -psychic function. I may here merely mention that if the theory of -partial waking could be confirmed, there would remain much to be -accomplished in its elaboration. - -Naturally a function of the dream cannot be found in this conception of -the dream life. On the contrary, the criticism of the status and -importance of the dream is consistently uttered in this statement of -Binz (p. 357): “All the facts, as we see, urge us to characterise the -dream as a physical process in all cases useless, in many cases even -morbid.” - -The expression “physical” in reference to the dream, which owes its -prominence to this author, points in more than one direction. In the -first place, it refers to the etiology of the dream, which was -especially clear to Binz, as he studied the experimental production of -dreams by the administration of poisons. It is certainly in keeping with -this kind of dream theory to ascribe the incitement of the dream -exclusively to somatic origin whenever possible. Presented in the most -extreme form, it reads as follows: After we have put ourselves to sleep -by removing the stimuli, there would be no need and no occasion for -dreaming until morning, when the gradual awakening through the incoming -stimuli would be reflected in the phenomenon of dreaming. But as a -matter of fact, it is not possible to keep sleep free from stimuli; just -as Mephisto complains about the germs of life, so stimuli reach the -sleeper from every side—from without, from within, and even from certain -bodily regions which never give us any concern during the waking state. -Thus sleep is disturbed; the mind is aroused, now by this, now by that -little thing, and functionates for a while with the awakened part only -to be glad to fall asleep again. The dream is a reaction to the stimulus -causing a disturbance of sleep—to be sure, it is a purely superfluous -reaction. - -To designate the dream as a physical process, which for all that remains -an activity of the mental organ, has still another sense. It is meant to -dispute the dignity of a psychic process for the dream. The application -to the dream of the very old comparison of the “ten fingers of a -musically ignorant person running over the keyboard of an instrument,” -perhaps best illustrates in what estimation the dream activity has been -held by the representatives of exact science. In this sense it becomes -something entirely untranslatable, for how could the ten fingers of an -unmusical player produce any music? - -The theory of partial wakefulness has not passed without objection even -in early times. Thus Burdach,[8] in 1830, says: “If we say that the -dream is a partial wakefulness, in the first place, we explain thereby -neither the waking nor the sleeping state; secondly, this expresses -nothing more than that certain forces of the mind are active in the -dream while others are at rest. But such irregularities take place -throughout life....” (p. 483). - -Among extant dream theories which consider the dream a “physical” -process, there is one very interesting conception of the dream, first -propounded by Robert[55] in 1866, which is attractive because it assigns -to the dream a function or a useful end. As a basis for this theory, -Robert takes from observation two facts which we have already discussed -in our consideration of the dream material (see p. 13). These facts are: -that one very often dreams about the insignificant impressions of the -day, and that one rarely carries over into the dream the absorbing -interests of the day. Robert asserts as exclusively correct, that things -which have been fully settled never become dream inciters, but only such -things as are incomplete in the mind or touch it fleetingly (p. 11). “We -cannot usually explain our dreams because their causes are to be found -_in sensory impressions of the preceding day which have not attained -sufficient recognition by the dreamer_.” The conditions allowing an -impression to reach the dream are therefore, either that this impression -has been disturbed in its elaboration, or that being too insignificant -it has no claim to such elaboration. - -Robert therefore conceives the dream “as a physical process of -elimination which has reached to cognition in the psychic manifestation -of its reaction.” _Dreams are eliminations of thoughts nipped in the -bud._ “A man deprived of the capacity for dreaming would surely in time -become mentally unbalanced, because an immense number of unfinished and -unsolved thoughts and superficial impressions would accumulate in his -brain, under the pressure of which there would be crushed all that -should be incorporated as a finished whole into memory.” The dream acts -as a safety-valve for the overburdened brain. _Dreams possess healing -and unburdening properties_ (p. 32). - -It would be a mistake to ask Robert how representation in the dream can -bring about an unburdening of the mind. The author apparently concluded -from those two peculiarities of the dream material that during sleep -such ejection of worthless impressions is effected as a somatic process, -and that dreaming is not a special psychic process but only the -knowledge that we receive of such elimination. To be sure an elimination -is not the only thing that takes place in the mind during sleep. Robert -himself adds that the incitements of the day are also elaborated, and -“what cannot be eliminated from the undigested thought material lying in -the mind becomes connected _by threads of thought borrowed from the -phantasy into a finished whole_, and thus enrolled in the memory as a -harmless phantasy picture” (p. 23). - -But it is in his criticism of the dream sources that Robert appears most -bluntly opposed to the ruling theory. Whereas according to the existing -theory there would be no dream if the outer and inner sensory stimuli -did not repeatedly wake the mind, according to Robert the impulse to -dream lies in the mind itself. It lies in the overcharging which demands -discharge, and Robert judges with perfect consistency when he maintains -that the causes determining the dream which depend on the physical state -assume a subordinate rank, and could not incite dreams in a mind -containing no material for dream formation taken from waking -consciousness. It is admitted, however, that the phantasy pictures -originating in the depths of the mind can be influenced by the nervous -stimuli (p. 48). Thus, according to Robert, the dream is not quite so -dependent on the somatic element. To be sure, it is not a psychic -process, and has no place among the psychic processes of the waking -state; it is a nocturnal somatic process in the apparatus devoted to -mental activity, and has a function to perform, viz. to guard this -apparatus against overstraining, or, if the comparison may be changed, -to cleanse the mind. - -Another author, Yves Delage,[15] bases his theory on the same -characteristics of the dream, which become clear in the selection of the -dream material, and it is instructive to observe how a slight turn in -the conception of the same things gives a final result of quite -different bearing. - -Delage, after having lost through death a person very dear to him, found -from his own experience that we do not dream of what occupies us -intently during the day, or that we begin to dream of it only after it -is overshadowed by other interests of the day. His investigations among -other persons corroborated the universality of this state of affairs. -Delage makes a nice observation of this kind, if it turns out to be -generally true, about the dreaming of newly married people: “S’ils ont -été fortement épris, presque jamais ils n’ont rêve l’un de l’autre avant -le mariage ou pendant la lune de miel; et s’ils ont rêve d’amour c’est -pour être infidèles avec quelque personne indifférente ou odieuse.” But -what does one dream of? Delage recognises that the material occurring in -our dreams consists of fragments and remnants of impressions from the -days preceding and former times. All that appears in our dreams, what at -first we may be inclined to consider creations of the dream life, proves -on more thorough investigation to be unrecognised reproductions, -“souvenir inconscient.” But this presentation material shows a common -character; it originates from impressions which have probably affected -our senses more forcibly than our mind, or from which the attention has -been deflected soon after their appearance. The less conscious, and at -the same time the stronger the impression, the more prospect it has of -playing a part in the next dream. - -These are essentially the same two categories of impressions, the -insignificant and the unadjusted, which were emphasized by Robert,[55] -but Delage changes the connection by assuming that these impressions -become the subject of dreams, not because they are indifferent, but -because they are unadjusted. The insignificant impressions, too, are in -a way not fully adjusted; they, too, are from their nature as new -impressions “autant de ressorts tendus,” which will be relaxed during -sleep. Still more entitled to a rôle in the dream than the weak and -almost unnoticed impression is a strong impression which has been -accidentally detained in its elaboration or intentionally repressed. The -psychic energy accumulated during the day through inhibition or -suppression becomes the mainspring of the dream at night. - -Unfortunately Delage stops here in his train of thought; he can ascribe -only the smallest part to an independent psychic activity in the dream, -and thus in his dream theory reverts to the ruling doctrine of a partial -sleep of the brain: “En somme le rêve est le produit de la pensée -errante, sans but et sans direction, se fixant successivement sur les -souvenirs, qui ont gardé assez d’intensité pour se placer sur sa route -et l’arrêter au passage, établissant entre eux un lien tantôt faible et -indécis, tantôt plus fort et plus serré, selon que l’activité actuelle -du cerveau est plus ou moins abolie par le sommeil.” - -In a third group we may include those dream theories which ascribe to -the dreaming mind the capacity and propensity for a special psychic -activity, which in the waking state it can accomplish either not at all -or only in an imperfect manner. From the activity of these capacities -there usually results a useful function of the dream. The dignity -bestowed upon the dream by older psychological authors falls chiefly in -this category. I shall content myself, however, with quoting, in their -place, the assertions of Burdach,[8] by virtue of which the dream “is -the natural activity of the mind, which is not limited by the force of -the individuality, not disturbed by self-consciousness and not directed -by self-determination, but is the state of life of the sensible central -point indulging in free play” (p. 486). - -Burdach and others apparently consider this revelling in the free use of -one’s own powers as a state in which the mind refreshes itself and takes -on new strength for the day work, something after the manner of a -vacation holiday. Burdach, therefore, cites with approval the admirable -words in which the poet Novalis lauds the sway of the dream: “The dream -is a bulwark against the regularity and commonness of life, a free -recreation of the fettered phantasy, in which it mixes together all the -pictures of life and interrupts the continued earnestness of grown-up -men with a joyous children’s play. Without the dream we should surely -age earlier, and thus the dream may be considered perhaps not a gift -directly from above, but a delightful task, a friendly companion, on our -pilgrimage to the grave.” - -The refreshing and curative activity of the dream is even more -impressively depicted by Purkinje.[53] “The productive dreams in -particular would perform these functions. They are easy plays of the -imagination, which have no connection with the events of the day. The -mind does not wish to continue the tension of the waking life, but to -release it and recuperate from it. It produces, in the first place, -conditions opposed to those of the waking state. It cures sadness -through joy, worry through hope and cheerfully distracting pictures, -hatred through love and friendliness, and fear through courage and -confidence; it calms doubt through conviction and firm belief, and vain -expectations through realisation. Many sore spots in the mind, which the -day keeps continually open, sleep heals by covering them and guarding -against fresh excitement. Upon this the curative effect of time is -partially based.” We all feel that sleep is beneficial to the psychic -life, and the vague surmise of the popular consciousness apparently -cannot be robbed of the notion that the dream is one of the ways in -which sleep distributes its benefits. - -The most original and most far-reaching attempt to explain the dream as -a special activity of the mind, which can freely display itself only in -the sleeping state, was the one undertaken by Scherner[58] in 1861. -Scherner’s book, written in a heavy and bombastic style, inspired by an -almost intoxicated enthusiasm for the subject, which must repel us -unless it can carry us away with it, places so many difficulties in the -way of an analysis that we gladly resort to the clearer and shorter -description in which the philosopher Volkelt[72] presents Scherner’s -theories: “From the mystic conglomerations and from all the gorgeous and -magnificent billows there indeed flashes and irradiates an ominous light -of sense, but the path of the philosopher does not thereby become -clearer.” Such is the criticism of Scherner’s description from one of -his own adherents. - -Scherner does not belong to those authors who allow the mind to take -along its undiminished capacities into the dream life. He indeed -explains how in the dream the centrality and the spontaneous energy of -the ego are enervated, how cognition, feeling, will, and imagination -become changed through this decentralisation, and how no true mental -character, but only the nature of a mechanism, belongs to the remnants -of these psychic forces. But instead, the activity of the mind -designated as phantasy, freed from all rational domination and hence -completely uncontrolled, rises in the dream to absolute supremacy. To be -sure, it takes the last building stones from the memory of the waking -state, but it builds with them constructions as different from the -structures of the waking state as day and night. It shows itself in the -dream not only reproductive, but productive. Its peculiarities give to -the dream life its strange character. It shows a preference for the -unlimited, exaggerated, and prodigious, but because freed from the -impeding thought categories, it gains a greater flexibility and agility -and new pleasure; it is extremely sensitive to the delicate emotional -stimuli of the mind and to the agitating affects, and it rapidly recasts -the inner life into the outer plastic clearness. The dream phantasy -lacks the language of ideas; what it wishes to say, it must clearly -depict; and as the idea now acts strongly, it depicts it with the -richness, force, and immensity of the mode in question. Its language, -however simple it may be, thus becomes circumstantial, cumbersome, and -heavy. Clearness of language is rendered especially difficult by the -fact that it shows a dislike for expressing an object by its own -picture, but prefers a strange picture, if the latter can only express -that moment of the object which it wishes to describe. This is the -symbolising activity of the phantasy.... It is, moreover, of great -significance that the dream phantasy copies objects not in detail, but -only in outline and even this in the broadest manner. Its paintings, -therefore, appear ingeniously light and graceful. The dream phantasy, -however, does not stop at the mere representation of the object, but is -impelled from within to mingle with the object more or less of the dream -ego, and in this way to produce an action. The visual dream, _e.g._, -depicts gold coins in the street; the dreamer picks them up, rejoices, -and carries them away. - -According to Scherner, the material upon which the dream phantasy exerts -its artistic activity is preponderately that of the organic sensory -stimuli which are so obscure during the day (comp. p. 29); hence the -phantastic theory of Scherner, and the perhaps over-sober theories of -Wundt and other physiologists, though otherwise diametrically opposed, -agree perfectly in their assumption of the dream sources and dream -excitants. But whereas, according to the physiological theory, the -psychic reaction to the inner physical stimuli becomes exhausted with -the awakening of any ideas suitable to these stimuli, these ideas then -by way of association calling to their aid other ideas, and with this -stage the chain of psychic processes seeming to terminate according to -Scherner, the physical stimuli only supply the psychic force with a -material which it may render subservient to its phantastic intentions. -For Scherner the formation of the dream only commences where in the -conception of others it comes to an end. - -The treatment of the physical stimuli by the dream phantasy surely -cannot be considered purposeful. The phantasy plays a tantalising game -with them, and represents the organic source which gives origin to the -stimuli in the correspondent dream, in any plastic symbolism. Indeed -Scherner holds the opinion, not shared by Volkelt and others, that the -dream phantasy has a certain favourite representation for the entire -organism; this representation would be the _house_. Fortunately, -however, it does not seem to limit itself in its presentation to this -material; it may also conversely employ a whole series of houses to -designate a single organ, _e.g._, very long rows of houses for the -intestinal excitation. On other occasions particular parts of the house -actually represent particular parts of the body, as _e.g._, in the -headache-dream, the ceiling of the room (which the dream sees covered -with disgusting reptile-like spiders) represents the head. - -Quite irrespective of the house symbolism, any other suitable object may -be employed for the representation of these parts of the body which -excite the dream. “Thus the breathing lungs find their symbol in the -flaming stove with its gaseous roaring, the heart in hollow boxes and -baskets, the bladder in round, bag-shaped, or simply hollowed objects. -The male dream of sexual excitement makes the dreamer find in the street -the upper portion of a clarinette, next to it the same part of a tobacco -pipe, and next to that a piece of fur. The clarinette and tobacco pipe -represent the approximate shape of the male sexual organ, while the fur -represents the pubic hair. In the female sexual dream the tightness of -the closely approximated thighs may be symbolised by a narrow courtyard -surrounded by houses, and the vagina by a very narrow, slippery and soft -footpath, leading through the courtyard, upon which the dreamer is -obliged to walk, in order perhaps to carry a letter to a gentleman” -(Volkelt, p. 39). It is particularly noteworthy that at the end of such -a physically exciting dream, the phantasy, as it were, unmasks by -representing the exciting organ or its function unconcealed. Thus the -“tooth-exciting dream” usually ends with the dreamer taking a tooth out -of his mouth. - -The dream phantasy may, however, not only direct its attention to the -shape of the exciting organ, but it may also make the substance -contained therein the object of the symbolisation. Thus the dream of -intestinal excitement, _e.g._, may lead us through muddy streets, the -bladder-exciting dream to foaming water. Or the stimulus itself, the -manner of its excitation, and the object it covets, are represented -symbolically, or the dream ego enters into a concrete combination with -the symbolisation of its own state, as _e.g._, when, in the case of -painful stimuli, we struggle desperately with vicious dogs or raging -bulls, or when in the sexual dream the dreamer sees herself pursued by a -naked man. Disregarding all the possible prolixity of elaboration, a -symbolising phantastic activity remains as the central force of every -dream. Volkelt,[72] in his finely and fervently written book, next -attempted to penetrate further into the character of this phantasy and -to assign to the psychical activity thus recognised, its position in a -system of philosophical ideas, which, however, remains altogether too -difficult of comprehension for any one who is not prepared by previous -schooling for the sympathetic comprehension of philosophical modes of -thinking. - -Scherner connects no useful function with the activity of the -symbolising phantasy in dreams. In the dream the psyche plays with the -stimuli at its disposal. One might presume that it plays in an improper -manner. One might also ask us whether our thorough study of Scherner’s -dream theory, the arbitrariness and deviation of which from the rules of -all investigation are only too obvious, can lead to any useful results. -It would then be proper for us to forestall the rejection of Scherner’s -theory without examination by saying that this would be too arrogant. -This theory is built up on the impression received from his dreams by a -man who paid great attention to them, and who would appear to be -personally very well fitted to trace obscure psychic occurrences. -Furthermore it treats a subject which, for thousands of years, has -appeared mysterious to humanity though rich in its contents and -relations; and for the elucidation of which stern science, as it -confesses itself, has contributed nothing beyond attempting, in entire -opposition to popular sentiment, to deny the substance and significance -of the object. Finally, let us frankly admit that apparently we cannot -avoid the phantastical in our attempts to elucidate the dream. There are -also phantastic ganglia cells; the passage cited on p. 63 from a sober -and exact investigator like Binz,[4] which depicts how the aurora of -awakening flows along the dormant cell masses of the cerebrum, is not -inferior in fancifulness and in improbability to Scherner’s attempts at -interpretation. I hope to be able to demonstrate that there is something -actual underlying the latter, though it has only been indistinctly -observed and does not possess the character of universality entitling it -to the claim of a dream theory. For the present, Scherner’s theory of -the dream, in its contrast to the medical theory, may perhaps lead us to -realise between what extremes the explanation of dream life is still -unsteadily vacillating. - -(_h_) _Relations between the Dream and Mental Diseases._—When we speak -of the relation of the dream to mental disturbances, we may think of -three different things: (1) Etiological and clinical relations, as when -a dream represents or initiates a psychotic condition, or when it leaves -such a condition behind it. (2) Changes to which the dream life is -subjected in mental diseases. (3) Inner relations between the dream and -the psychoses, analogies indicating an intimate relationship. These -manifold relations between the two series of phenomena have been a -favourite theme of medical authors in the earlier periods of medical -science—and again in recent times—as we learn from the literature on the -subject gathered from Spitta,[64] Radestock,[54] Maury,[48] and -Tissié.[68] Sante de Sanctis has lately directed his attention to this -relationship. For the purposes of our discussion it will suffice merely -to glance at this important subject. - -In regard to the clinical and etiological relations between the dream -and the psychoses, I will report the following observations as -paradigms. Hohnbaum asserts (see Krauss, p. 39), that the first attack -of insanity frequently originates in an anxious and terrifying dream, -and that the ruling idea has connection with this dream. Sante de -Sanctis adduces similar observations in paranoiacs, and declares the -dream to be, in some of them, the “vraie cause déterminante de la -folie.” The psychosis may come to life all of a sudden with the dream -causing and containing the explanation for the mental disturbances, or -it may slowly develop through further dreams that have yet to struggle -against doubt. In one of de Sanctis’s cases, the affecting dream was -accompanied by light hysterical attacks, which in their turn were -followed by an anxious, melancholic state. Féré (cited by Tissié) refers -to a dream which caused an hysterical paralysis. Here the dream is -offered us as an etiology of mental disturbance, though we equally -consider the prevailing conditions when we declare that the mental -disturbance shows its first manifestation in dream life, that it has its -first outbreak in the dream. In other instances the dream life contained -the morbid symptoms, or the psychosis was limited to the dream life. -Thus Thomayer[70] calls attention to anxiety dreams which must be -conceived as equivalent to epileptic attacks. Allison has described -nocturnal insanity (cited by Radestock), in which the subjects are -apparently perfectly well in the day-time, while hallucinations, fits of -frenzy, and the like regularly appear at night. De Sanctis and Tissié -report similar observations (paranoiac dream-equivalent in an alcoholic, -voices accusing a wife of infidelity). Tissié reports abundant -observations from recent times in which actions of a pathological -character (based on delusions, obsessive impulses) had their origin in -dreams. Guislain describes a case in which sleep was replaced by an -intermittent insanity. - -There is hardly any doubt that along with the psychology of the dream, -the physician will one day occupy himself with the psychopathology of -the dream. - -In cases of convalescence from insanity, it is often especially obvious -that, while the functions of the day are normal, the dream life may -still belong to the psychosis. Gregory is said first to have called -attention to such cases (cited by Krauss[39]). Macario (reported by -Tissié) gives account of a maniac who, a week after his complete -recovery again experienced in dreams the flight of ideas and the -passionate impulses of his disease. - -Concerning the changes to which the dream life is subjected in chronic -psychotic persons, very few investigations have so far been made. On the -other hand, timely attention has been called to the inner relationship -between the dream and mental disturbance, which shows itself in an -extensive agreement of the manifestations occurring to both. According -to Maury,[47] Cubanis, in his _Rapports du physique et du moral_, first -called attention to this; following him came Lelut, J. Moreau, and more -particularly the philosopher Maine de Biran. To be sure, the comparison -is still older. Radestock[54] begins the chapter dealing with this -comparison, by giving a collection of expressions showing the analogy -between the dream and insanity. Kant somewhere says: “The lunatic is a -dreamer in the waking state.” According to Krauss “Insanity is a dream -with the senses awake.” Schopenhauer terms the dream a short insanity, -and insanity a long dream. Hagen describes the delirium as dream life -which has not been caused by sleep but by disease. Wundt, in the -_Physiological Psychology_, declares: “As a matter of fact we may in the -dream ourselves live through almost all symptoms which we meet in the -insane asylums.” - -The specific agreements, on the basis of which such an identification -commends itself to the understanding, are enumerated by Spitta.[64] And -indeed, very similarly, by Maury in the following grouping: “(1) -Suspension or at least retardation, of self-consciousness, consequent -ignorance of the condition as such, and hence incapability of -astonishment and lack of moral consciousness. (2) Modified perception of -the sensory organs; that is, perception is diminished in the dream and -generally enhanced in insanity. (3) Combination of ideas with each other -exclusively in accordance with the laws of association and of -reproduction, hence automatic formation of groups and for this reason -disproportion in the relations between ideas (exaggerations, phantasms). -And as a result of all this: (4) Changing or transformation of the -personality and at times of the peculiarities of character -(perversities).” - -Radestock gives some additional features or analogies in the material: -“Most hallucinations and illusions are found in the sphere of the senses -of sight and hearing and general sensation. As in the dream, the -smallest number of elements is supplied by the senses of smell and -taste. The fever patient, like the dreamer, is assaulted by -reminiscences from the remote past; what the waking and healthy man -seems to have forgotten is recollected in sleep and in disease.” The -analogy between the dream and the psychosis receives its full value only -when, like a family resemblance, it is extended to the finer mimicry and -to the individual peculiarities of facial expression. - -“To him who is tortured by physical and mental sufferings the dream -accords what has been denied him by reality, to wit, physical well-being -and happiness; so the insane, too, see the bright pictures of happiness, -greatness, sublimity, and riches. The supposed possession of estates and -the imaginary fulfilment of wishes, the denial or destruction of which -have just served as a psychic cause of the insanity, often form the main -content of the delirium. The woman who has lost a dearly beloved child, -in her delirium experiences maternal joys; the man who has suffered -reverses of fortune deems himself immensely wealthy; and the jilted girl -pictures herself in the bliss of tender love.” - -The above passage from Radestock, an abstract of a keen discussion of -Griesinger[31] (p. 111), reveals with the greatest clearness the wish -fulfilment as a characteristic of the imagination, common to the dream -and the psychosis. (My own investigations have taught me that here the -key to a psychological theory of the dream and of the psychosis is to be -found.) - -“Absurd combinations of ideas and weakness of judgment are the main -characteristics of the dream and of insanity.” The over-estimation of -one’s own mental capacity, which appears absurd to sober judgment, is -found alike both in one and the other, and the rapid course of ideas in -the dream corresponds to the flight of ideas in the psychosis. Both are -devoid of any measure of time. The dissociation of personality in the -dream, which, for instance, distributes one’s own knowledge between two -persons, one of whom, the strange one, corrects in the dream one’s own -ego, fully corresponds to the well-known splitting of personality in -hallucinatory paranoia; the dreamer, too, hears his own thoughts -expressed by strange voices. Even the constant delusions find their -analogy in the stereotyped recurring pathological dreams (_rêve -obsédant_). After recovering from a delirium, patients not infrequently -declare that the disease appeared to them like an uncomfortable dream; -indeed, they inform us that occasionally, even during the course of -their sickness, they have felt that they were only dreaming, just as it -frequently happens in the sleeping dream. - -Considering all this, it is not surprising that Radestock condenses his -own opinion and that of many others into the following: “Insanity, an -abnormal phenomenon of disease, is to be regarded as an enhancement of -the periodically recurring normal dream states” (p. 228). - -Krauss[39] attempted to base the relationship between the dream and -insanity upon the etiology (or rather upon the exciting sources), -perhaps making the relationship even more intimate than was possible -through the analogy of the phenomena they manifest. According to him, -the fundamental element common to both is, as we have learned, the -organically determined sensation, the sensation of physical stimuli, the -general feeling produced by contributions from all the organs. _Cf._ -Peise, cited by Maury[48] (p. 60). - -The incontestable agreement between the dream and mental disturbance, -extending into characteristic details, constitutes one of the strongest -supports of the medical theory of dream life, according to which the -dream is represented as a useless and disturbing process and as the -expression of a reduced psychic activity. One cannot expect, however, to -derive the final explanation of the dream from the mental disturbances, -as it is generally known in what unsatisfactory state our understanding -of the origin of the latter remains. It is very probably, however, that -a modified conception of the dream must also influence our views in -regard to the inner mechanism of mental disturbances, and hence we may -say that we are engaged in the elucidation of the psychosis when we -endeavour to clear up the mystery of the dream. - -I shall have to justify myself for not extending my summary of the -literature of the dream problems over the period between the first -appearance of this book and its second edition. If this justification -may not seem very satisfactory to the reader, I was nevertheless -influenced by it. The motives which mainly induced me to summarise the -treatment of the dream in the literature have been exhausted with the -foregoing introduction; to have continued with this work would have cost -me extraordinary effort and would have afforded little advantage or -knowledge. For the period of nine years referred to has yielded nothing -new or valuable either for the conception of the dream in actual -material or in points of view. In most of the publications that have -since appeared my work has remained unmentioned and unregarded; -naturally least attention has been bestowed upon it by the so-called -“investigators of dreams,” who have thus afforded a splendid example of -the aversion characteristic of scientific men to learning something new. -“Les savants ne sont pas curieux,” said the scoffer Anatole France. If -there were such a thing in science as right to revenge, I in turn should -be justified in ignoring the literature since the appearance of this -book. The few accounts that have appeared in scientific journals are so -full of folly and misconception that my only possible answer to my -critics would be to request them to read this book over again. Perhaps -also the request should be that they read it as a whole. - -In the works of those physicians who make use of the psychoanalytic -method of treatment (Jung, Abraham, Riklin, Muthmann, Stekel, Rank, and -others), an abundance of dreams have been reported and interpreted in -accordance with my instructions. In so far as these works go beyond the -confirmation of my assertions I have noted their results in the context -of my discussion. A supplement to the literary index at the end of this -book brings together the most important of these new publications. The -voluminous book on the dream by Sante de Sanctis, of which a German -translation appeared soon after its publication, has, so to speak, -crossed with mine, so that I could take as little notice of him as the -Italian author could of me. Unfortunately, I am further obliged to -declare that this laborious work is exceedingly poor in ideas, so poor -that one could never divine from it the existence of the problems -treated by me. - -I have finally to mention two publications which show a near relation to -my treatment of the dream problems. A younger philosopher, H. Swoboda, -who has undertaken to extend W. Fliesse’s discovery of biological -periodicity (in groups of twenty-three and twenty-eight days) to the -psychic field, has produced an imaginative work,[P] in which, among -other things, he has used this key to solve the riddle of the dream. The -interpretation of dreams would herein have fared badly; the material -contained in dreams would be explained through the coincidence of all -those memories which during the night complete one of the biological -periods for the first or the n-th time. A personal statement from the -author led me to assume that he himself no longer wished to advocate -this theory earnestly. But it seems I was mistaken in this conclusion; I -shall report in another place some observations in reference to -Swoboda’s assertion, concerning the conclusions of which I am, however, -not convinced. It gave me far greater pleasure to find accidentally, in -an unexpected place, a conception of the dream in essentials fully -agreeing with my own. The circumstances of time preclude the possibility -that this conception was influenced by a reading of my book; I must -therefore greet this as the only demonstrable concurrence in the -literature with the essence of my dream theory. The book which contains -the passage concerning the dream which I have in mind was published as a -second edition in 1900 by Lynkus under the title _Phantasien eines -Realisten_. - - - - - II - METHOD OF DREAM INTERPRETATION - - - THE ANALYSIS OF A SAMPLE DREAM - -The title which I have given my treatise indicates the tradition which I -wish to make the starting-point in my discussion of dreams. I have made -it my task to show that dreams are capable of interpretation, and -contributions to the solution of the dream problems that have just been -treated can only be yielded as possible by-products of the settlement of -my own particular problem. With the hypothesis that dreams are -interpretable, I at once come into contradiction with the prevailing -dream science, in fact with all dream theories except that of Scherner, -for to “interpret a dream” means to declare its meaning, to replace it -by something which takes its place in the concatenation of our psychic -activities as a link of full importance and value. But, as we have -learnt, the scientific theories of the dream leave no room for a problem -of dream interpretation, for, in the first place, according to these, -the dream is no psychic action, but a somatic process which makes itself -known to the psychic apparatus by means of signs. The opinion of the -masses has always been quite different. It asserts its privilege of -proceeding illogically, and although it admits the dream to be -incomprehensible and absurd, it cannot summon the resolution to deny the -dream all significance. Led by a dim intuition, it seems rather to -assume that the dream has a meaning, albeit a hidden one; that it is -intended as a substitute for some other thought process, and that it is -only a question of revealing this substitute correctly in order to reach -the hidden signification of the dream. - -The laity has, therefore, always endeavoured to “interpret” the dream, -and in doing so has tried two essentially different methods. The first -of these procedures regards the dream content as a whole and seeks to -replace it by another content which is intelligible and in certain -respects analogous. This is symbolic dream interpretation; it naturally -goes to pieces at the outset in the case of those dreams which appear -not only unintelligible but confused. The construction which the -biblical Joseph places upon the dream of Pharaoh furnishes an example of -its procedure. The seven fat kine, after which came seven lean ones -which devour the former, furnish a symbolic substitute for a prediction -of seven years of famine in the land of Egypt, which will consume all -the excess which seven fruitful years have created. Most of the -artificial dreams contrived by poets are intended for such symbolic -interpretation, for they reproduce the thought conceived by the poet in -a disguise found to be in accordance with the characteristics of our -dreaming, as we know these from experience.[Q] The idea that the dream -concerns itself chiefly with future events whose course it surmises in -advance—a relic of the prophetic significance with which dreams were -once credited—now becomes the motive for transplanting the meaning of -the dream, found by means of symbolic interpretation, into the future by -means of an “it shall.” - -A demonstration of the way in which such symbolic interpretation is -arrived at cannot, of course, be given. Success remains a matter of -ingenious conjecture, of direct intuition, and for this reason dream -interpretation has naturally been elevated to an art, which seems to -depend upon extraordinary gifts.[R] The other of the two popular methods -of dream interpretation entirely abandons such claims. It might be -designated as the “cipher method,” since it treats the dream as a kind -of secret code, in which every sign is translated into another sign of -known meaning, according to an established key. For example, I have -dreamt of a letter, and also of a funeral or the like; I consult a -“dream book,” and find that “letter” is to be translated by “vexation,” -and “funeral” by “marriage, engagement.” It now remains to establish a -connection, which I again am to assume pertains to the future, by means -of the rigmarole which I have deciphered. An interesting variation of -this cipher procedure, a variation by which its character of purely -mechanical transference is to a certain extent corrected, is presented -in the work on dream interpretation by Artemidoros of Daldis.[2] Here -not only the dream content, but also the personality and station in life -of the dreamer, are taken into consideration, so that the same dream -content has a significance for the rich man, the married man, or the -orator, which is different from that for the poor man, the unmarried -man, or, say, the merchant. The essential point, then, in this procedure -is that the work of interpretation is not directed to the entirety of -the dream, but to each portion of the dream content by itself, as though -the dream were a conglomeration, in which each fragment demands a -particular disposal. Incoherent and confused dreams are certainly the -ones responsible for the invention of the cipher method.[S] - -The worthlessness of both these popular interpretation procedures for -the scientific treatment of the subject cannot be questioned for a -moment. The symbolic method is limited in its application and is capable -of no general demonstration. In the cipher method everything depends -upon whether the key, the dream book, is reliable, and for that all -guarantees are lacking. One might be tempted to grant the contention of -the philosophers and psychiatrists and to dismiss the problem of dream -interpretation as a fanciful one. - -I have come, however, to think differently. I have been forced to admit -that here once more we have one of those not infrequent cases where an -ancient and stubbornly retained popular belief seems to have come nearer -to the truth of the matter than the judgment of the science which -prevails to-day. I must insist that the dream actually has significance, -and that a scientific procedure in dream interpretation is possible. I -have come upon the knowledge of this procedure in the following manner:— - -For several years I have been occupied with the solution of certain -psychopathological structures in hysterical phobias, compulsive ideas, -and the like, for therapeutic purposes. I have been so occupied since -becoming familiar with an important report of Joseph Breuer to the -effect that in those structures, regarded as morbid symptoms, solution -and treatment go hand in hand.[T] Where it has been possible to trace -such a pathological idea back to the elements in the psychic life of the -patient to which it owes its origin, this idea has crumbled away, and -the patient has been relieved of it. In view of the failure of our other -therapeutic efforts, and in the face of the mysteriousness of these -conditions, it seems to me tempting, in spite of all difficulties, to -press forward on the path taken by Breuer until the subject has been -fully understood. We shall have elsewhere to make a detailed report upon -the form which the technique of this procedure has finally assumed, and -the results of the efforts which have been made. In the course of these -psychoanalytical studies, I happened upon dream interpretation. My -patients, after I had obliged them to inform me of all the ideas and -thoughts which came to them in connection with the given theme, related -their dreams, and thus taught me that a dream may be linked into the -psychic concatenation which must be followed backwards into the memory -from the pathological idea as a starting-point. The next step was to -treat the dream as a symptom, and to apply to it the method of -interpretation which had been worked out for such symptoms. - -For this a certain psychic preparation of the patient is necessary. The -double effort is made with him, to stimulate his attention for his -psychic perceptions and to eliminate the critique with which he is -ordinarily in the habit of viewing the thoughts which come to the -surface in him. For the purpose of self-observation with concentrated -attention, it is advantageous that the patient occupy a restful position -and close his eyes; he must be explicitly commanded to resign the -critique of the thought-formations which he perceives. He must be told -further that the success of the psychoanalysis depends upon his noticing -and telling everything that passes through his mind, and that he must -not allow himself to suppress one idea because it seems to him -unimportant or irrelevant to the subject, or another because it seems -nonsensical. He must maintain impartiality towards his ideas; for it -would be owing to just this critique if he were unsuccessful in finding -the desired solution of the dream, the obsession, or the like. - -I have noticed in the course of my psychoanalytic work that the state of -mind of a man in contemplation is entirely different from that of a man -who is observing his psychic processes. In contemplation there is a -greater play of psychic action than in the most attentive -self-observation; this is also shown by the tense attitude and wrinkled -brow of contemplation, in contrast with the restful features of -self-observation. In both cases, there must be concentration of -attention, but, besides this, in contemplation one exercises a critique, -in consequence of which he rejects some of the ideas which he has -perceived, and cuts short others, so that he does not follow the trains -of thought which they would open; toward still other thoughts he may act -in such a manner that they do not become conscious at all—that is to -say, they are suppressed before they are perceived. In self-observation, -on the other hand, one has only the task of suppressing the critique; if -he succeeds in this, an unlimited number of ideas, which otherwise would -have been impossible for him to grasp, come to his consciousness. With -the aid of this material, newly secured for the purpose of -self-observation, the interpretation of pathological ideas, as well as -of dream images, can be accomplished. As may be seen, the point is to -bring about a psychic state to some extent analogous as regards the -apportionment of psychic energy (transferable attention) to the state -prior to falling asleep (and indeed also to the hypnotic state). In -falling asleep, the “undesired ideas” come into prominence on account of -the slackening of a certain arbitrary (and certainly also critical) -action, which we allow to exert an influence upon the trend of our -ideas; we are accustomed to assign “fatigue” as the reason for this -slackening; the emerging undesired ideas as the reason are changed into -visual and acoustic images. (_Cf._ the remarks of Schleiermacher[61] and -others, p. 40.) In the condition which is used for the analysis of -dreams and pathological ideas, this activity is purposely and -arbitrarily dispensed with, and the psychic energy thus saved, or a part -of it, is used for the attentive following of the undesired thoughts now -coming to the surface, which retain their identity as ideas (this is the -difference from the condition of falling asleep). “Undesired ideas” are -thus changed into “desired” ones. - -The suspension thus required of the critique for these apparently -“freely rising” ideas, which is here demanded and which is usually -exercised on them, is not easy for some persons. The “undesired ideas” -are in the habit of starting the most violent resistance, which seeks to -prevent them from coming to the surface. But if we may credit our great -poet-philosopher Friedrich Schiller, a very similar tolerance must be -the condition of poetic production. At a point in his correspondence -with Koerner, for the noting of which we are indebted to Mr. Otto Rank, -Schiller answers a friend who complains of his lack of creativeness in -the following words: “The reason for your complaint lies, it seems to -me, in the constraint which your intelligence imposes upon your -imagination. I must here make an observation and illustrate it by an -allegory. It does not seem beneficial, and it is harmful for the -creative work of the mind, if the intelligence inspects too closely the -ideas already pouring in, as it were, at the gates. Regarded by itself, -an idea may be very trifling and very adventurous, but it perhaps -becomes important on account of one which follows it; perhaps in a -certain connection with others, which may seem equally absurd, it is -capable of forming a very useful construction. The intelligence cannot -judge all these things if it does not hold them steadily long enough to -see them in connection with the others. In the case of a creative mind, -however, the intelligence has withdrawn its watchers from the gates, the -ideas rush in pell-mell, and it is only then that the great heap is -looked over and critically examined. Messrs. Critics, or whatever else -you may call yourselves, you are ashamed or afraid of the momentary and -transitory madness which is found in all creators, and whose longer or -shorter duration distinguishes the thinking artist from the dreamer. -Hence your complaints about barrenness, for you reject too soon and -discriminate too severely” (Letter of December 1, 1788). - -And yet, “such a withdrawal of the watchers from the gates of -intelligence,” as Schiller calls it, such a shifting into the condition -of uncritical self-observation, is in no way difficult. - -Most of my patients accomplish it after the first instructions; I myself -can do it very perfectly, if I assist the operation by writing down my -notions. The amount, in terms of psychic energy, by which the critical -activity is in this manner reduced, and by which the intensity of the -self-observation may be increased, varies widely according to the -subject matter upon which the attention is to be fixed. - -The first step in the application of this procedure now teaches us that -not the dream as a whole, but only the parts of its contents separately, -may be made the object of our attention. If I ask a patient who is as -yet unpractised: “What occurs to you in connection with this dream?” as -a rule he is unable to fix upon anything in his psychic field of vision. -I must present the dream to him piece by piece, then for every fragment -he gives me a series of notions, which may be designated as the -“background thoughts” of this part of the dream. In this first and -important condition, then, the method of dream interpretation which I -employ avoids the popular, traditional method of interpretation by -symbolism famous in the legends, and approaches the second, the “cipher -method.” Like this one it is an interpretation in detail, not _en -masse_; like this it treats the dream from the beginning as something -put together—as a conglomeration of psychic images. - -In the course of my psychoanalysis of neurotics, I have indeed already -subjected many thousand dreams to interpretation, but I do not now wish -to use this material in the introduction to the technique and theory of -dream interpretation. Quite apart from the consideration that I should -expose myself to the objection that these are dreams of neuropathic -subjects, the conclusions drawn from which would not admit of -reapplication to the dreams of healthy persons, another reason forces me -to reject them. The theme which is naturally always the subject of these -dreams, is the history of the disease which is responsible for the -neurosis. For this purpose there would be required a very long -introduction and an investigation into the nature and logical conditions -of psychoneuroses, things which are in themselves novel and unfamiliar -in the highest degree, and which would thus distract attention from the -dream problem. My purpose lies much more in the direction of preparing -the ground for a solution of difficult problems in the psychology of the -neuroses by means of the solution of dreams. But if I eliminate the -dreams of neurotics, I must not treat the remainder too -discriminatingly. Only those dreams still remain which have been -occasionally related to me by healthy persons of my acquaintance, or -which I find as examples in the literature of dream life. Unfortunately -in all these dreams the analysis is lacking, without which I cannot find -the meaning of the dream. My procedure is, of course, not as easy as -that of the popular cipher method, which translates the given dream -content according to an established key; I am much more prepared to find -that the same dream may cover a different meaning in the case of -different persons, and in a different connection I must then resort to -my own dreams, as an abundant and convenient material, furnished by a -person who is about normal, and having reference to many incidents of -everyday life. I shall certainly be with doubts as to the -trustworthiness of these “self-analyses.” Arbitrariness is here in no -way avoided. In my opinion, conditions are more likely to be favourable -in self-observation than in the observation of others; in any case, it -is permissible to see how much can be accomplished by means of -self-analysis. I must overcome further difficulties arising from inner -self. One has a readily understood aversion to exposing so many intimate -things from one’s own psychic life, and one does not feel safe from the -misinterpretation of strangers. But one must be able to put one’s self -beyond this. “Toute psychologiste,” writes Delbœuf,[26] “est obligé de -faire l’aveu même de ses faiblesses s’il croit par là jeter du jour sur -quelque problème obscure.” And I may assume that in the case of the -reader, the immediate interest in the indiscretions which I must commit -will very soon give way to exclusive engrossment in the psychological -problems which are illuminated by them. - -I shall, therefore, select one of my own dreams and use it to elucidate -my method of interpretation. Every such dream necessitates a preliminary -statement. I must now beg the reader to make my interests his own for a -considerable time, and to become absorbed with me in the most trifling -details of my life, for an interest in the hidden significance of dreams -imperatively demands such transference. - -Preliminary statement: In the summer of 1895 I had psychoanalytically -treated a young lady who stood in close friendship to me and those near -to me. It is to be understood that such a complication of relations may -be the source of manifold feelings for the physician, especially for the -psychotherapist. The personal interest of the physician is greater, his -authority is less. A failure threatens to undermine the friendship with -the relatives of the patient. The cure ended with partial success, the -patient got rid of her hysterical fear, but not of all her somatic -symptoms. I was at that time not yet sure of the criteria marking the -final settlement of a hysterical case, and expected her to accept a -solution which did not seem acceptable to her. In this disagreement, we -cut short the treatment on account of the summer season. One day a -younger colleague, one of my best friends, who had visited the -patient—Irma—and her family in their country resort, came to see me. I -asked him how he found her, and received the answer: “She is better, but -not altogether well.” I realise that those words of my friend Otto, or -the tone of voice in which they were spoken, made me angry. I thought I -heard a reproach in the words, perhaps to the effect that I had promised -the patient too much, and rightly or wrongly I traced Otto’s supposed -siding against me to the influence of the relatives of the patient, who, -I assume, had never approved of my treatment. Moreover, my disagreeable -impression did not become clear to me, nor did I give it expression. The -very same evening, I wrote down the history of Irma’s case, in order to -hand it, as though for my justification, to Dr. M., a mutual friend, who -was at that time a leading figure in our circle. During the night -following this evening (perhaps rather in the morning) I had the -following dream, which was registered immediately after waking:— - - - DREAM OF JULY 23–24, 1895 - -_A great hall—many guests whom we are receiving—among them Irma, whom I -immediately take aside, as though to answer her letter, to reproach her -for not yet accepting the “solution.” I say to her: “If you still have -pains, it is really only your own fault.” She answers: “If you only knew -what pains I now have in the neck, stomach, and abdomen; I am drawn -together.” I am frightened and look at her. She looks pale and bloated; -I think that after all I must be overlooking some organic affection. I -take her to the window and look into her throat. She shows some -resistance to this, like a woman who has a false set of teeth. I think -anyway she does not need them. The mouth then really opens without -difficulty and I find a large white spot to the right, and at another -place I see extended grayish-white scabs attached to curious curling -formations, which have obviously been formed like the turbinated bone—I -quickly call Dr. M., who repeats the examination and confirms it.... Dr. -M.’s looks are altogether unusual; he is very pale, limps, and has no -beard on his chin.... My friend Otto is now also standing next to her, -and my friend Leopold percusses her small body and says: “She has some -dulness on the left below,” and also calls attention to an infiltrated -portion of the skin on the left shoulder (something which I feel as he -does, in spite of the dress).... M. says: “No doubt it is an infection, -but it does not matter; dysentery will develop too, and the poison will -be excreted.... We also have immediate knowledge of the origin of the -infection. My friend Otto has recently given her an injection with a -propyl preparation when she felt ill, propyls.... Propionic acid ... -Trimethylamine (the formula of which I see printed before me in heavy -type).... Such injections are not made so rashly.... Probably also the -syringe was not clean.”_ - -This dream has an advantage over many others. It is at once clear with -what events of the preceding day it is connected, and what subject it -treats. The preliminary statement gives information on these points. The -news about Irma’s health which I have received from Otto, the history of -the illness upon which I have written until late at night, have occupied -my psychic activity even during sleep. In spite of all this, no one, who -has read the preliminary report and has knowledge of the content of the -dream, has been able to guess what the dream signifies. Nor do I myself -know. I wonder about the morbid symptoms, of which Irma complains in the -dream, for they are not the same ones for which I have treated her. I -smile about the consultation with Dr. M. I smile at the nonsensical idea -of an injection with propionic acid, and at the consolation attempted by -Dr. M. Towards the end the dream seems more obscure and more terse than -at the beginning. In order to learn the significance of all this, I am -compelled to undertake a thorough analysis. - - - ANALYSIS - -_The hall—many guests, whom we are receiving._ - -We were living this summer at the Bellevue, in an isolated house on one -of the hills which lie close to the Kahlenberg. This house was once -intended as a place of amusement, and on this account has unusually -high, hall-like rooms. The dream also occurred at the Bellevue, a few -days before the birthday of my wife. During the day, my wife had -expressed the expectation that several friends, among them Irma, would -come to us as guests for her birthday. My dream, then, anticipates this -situation: It is the birthday of my wife, and many people, among them -Irma, are received by us as guests in the great hall of the Bellevue. - -_I reproach Irma for not having accepted the solution. I say: “If you -still have pains, it is your own fault.”_ - -I might have said this also, or did say it, while awake. At that time I -had the opinion (recognised later to be incorrect) that my task was -limited to informing patients of the hidden meaning of their symptoms. -Whether they then accepted or did not accept the solution upon which -success depended—for that I was not responsible. I am thankful to this -error, which fortunately has now been overcome, for making life easier -for me at a time when, with all my unavoidable ignorance, I was to -produce successful cures. But I see in the speech which I make to Irma -in the dream, that above all things I do not want to be to blame for the -pains which she still feels. If it is Irma’s own fault, it cannot be -mine. Should the purpose of the dream be looked for in this quarter? - -_Irma’s complaints; pains in the neck, abdomen, and stomach; she is -drawn together._ - -Pains in the stomach belonged to the symptom-complex of my patient, but -they were not very prominent; she complained rather of sensations of -nausea and disgust. Pains in the neck and abdomen and constriction of -the throat hardly played a part in her case. I wonder why I decided upon -this choice of symptoms, nor can I for the moment find the reason. - -_She looks pale and bloated._ - -My patient was always ruddy. I suspect that another person is here being -substituted for her. - -_I am frightened at the thought that I must have overlooked some organic -affection._ - -This, as the reader will readily believe, is a constant fear with the -specialist, who sees neurotics almost exclusively, and who is accustomed -to ascribe so many manifestations, which other physicians treat as -organic, to hysteria. On the other hand, I am haunted by a faint doubt—I -know not whence it comes—as to whether my fear is altogether honest. If -Irma’s pains are indeed of organic origin, I am not bound to cure them. -My treatment, of course, removes only hysterical pains. It seems to me, -in fact, that I wish to find an error in the diagnosis; in that case the -reproach of being unsuccessful would be removed. - -_I take her to the window in order to look into her throat. She resists -a little, like a woman who has false teeth. I think she does not need -them anyway._ - -I had never had occasion to inspect Irma’s aural cavity. The incident in -the dream reminds me of an examination, made some time before, of a -governess who at first gave an impression of youthful beauty, but who -upon opening her mouth took certain measures for concealing her teeth. -Other memories of medical examinations and of little secrets which are -discovered by them, unpleasantly for both examiner and examined, connect -themselves with this case. “She does not need them anyway,” is at first -perhaps a compliment for Irma; but I suspect a different meaning. In -careful analysis one feels whether or not the “background thoughts” -which are to be expected have been exhausted. The way in which Irma -stands at the window suddenly reminds me of another experience. Irma -possesses an intimate woman friend, of whom I think very highly. One -evening on paying her a visit I found her in the position at the window -reproduced in the dream, and her physician, the same Dr. M., declared -that she had a diphtheritic membrane. The person of Dr. M. and the -membrane return in the course of the dream. Now it occurs to me that -during the last few months, I have been given every reason to suppose -that this lady is also hysterical. Yes, Irma herself has betrayed this -to me. But what do I know about her condition? Only the one thing, that -like Irma she suffers from hysterical choking in dreams. Thus in the -dream I have replaced my patient by her friend. Now I remember that I -have often trifled with the expectation that this lady might likewise -engage me to relieve her of her symptoms. But even at the time I thought -it improbable, for she is of a very shy nature. _She resists_, as the -dream shows. Another explanation might be that _she does not need it_; -in fact, until now she has shown herself strong enough to master her -condition without outside help. Now only a few features remain, which I -can assign neither to Irma nor to her friend: _Pale, bloated, false -teeth_. The false teeth lead me to the governess; I now feel inclined to -be satisfied with bad teeth. Then another person, to whom these features -may allude, occurs to me. She is not my patient, and I do not wish her -to be my patient, for I have noticed that she is not at her ease with -me, and I do not consider her a docile patient. She is generally pale, -and once, when she had a particularly good spell, she was bloated.[U] I -have thus compared my patient Irma with two others, who would likewise -resist treatment. What can it mean that I have exchanged her for her -friend in the dream? Perhaps that I wish to exchange her; either the -other one arouses in me stronger sympathies or I have a higher opinion -of her intelligence. For I consider Irma foolish because she does not -accept my solution. The other one would be more sensible, and would thus -be more likely to yield. _The mouth then really opens without -difficulty_; she would tell more than Irma.[V] - -_What I see in the throat; a white spot and scabby nostrils._ - -The white spot recalls diphtheria, and thus Irma’s friend, but besides -this it recalls the grave illness of my eldest daughter two years before -and all the anxiety of that unfortunate time. The scab on the nostrils -reminds me of a concern about my own health. At that time I often used -cocaine in order to suppress annoying swellings in the nose, and had -heard a few days before that a lady patient who did likewise had -contracted an extensive necrosis of the nasal mucous membrane. The -recommendation of cocaine, which I had made in 1885, had also brought -grave reproaches upon me. A dear friend, already dead in 1895, had -hastened his end through the misuse of this remedy. - -_I quickly call Dr. M., who repeats the examination._ - -This would simply correspond to the position which M. occupied among us. -But the word “quickly” is striking enough to demand a special -explanation. It reminds me of a sad medical experience. By the continued -prescription of a remedy (sulfonal) which was still at that time -considered harmless, I had once caused the severe intoxication of a -woman patient, and I had turned in great haste to an older, more -experienced colleague for assistance. The fact that I really had this -case in mind is confirmed by an accessory circumstance. The patient, who -succumbed to the intoxication, bore the same name as my eldest daughter. -I had never thought of this until now; now it seems to me almost like a -retribution of fate—as though I ought to continue the replacement of the -persons here in another sense; this Matilda for that Matilda; an eye for -an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It is as though I were seeking every -opportunity to reproach myself with lack of medical conscientiousness. - -_Dr. M. is pale, without a beard on his chin, and he limps._ - -Of this so much is correct, that his unhealthy appearance often awakens -the concern of his friends. The other two characteristics must belong to -another person. A brother living abroad occurs to me, who wears his chin -clean-shaven, and to whom, if I remember aright, M. of the dream on the -whole bears some resemblance. About him the news arrived some days -before that he was lame on account of an arthritic disease in the hip. -There must be a reason why I fuse the two persons into one in the dream. -I remember that in fact I was on bad terms with both of them for similar -reasons. Both of them had rejected a certain proposal which I had -recently made to them. - -_My friend Otto is now standing next to the sick woman, and my friend -Leopold examines her and calls attention to a dulness on the left -below._ - -My friend Leopold is also a physician, a relative of Otto. Since the two -practise the same specialty, fate has made them competitors, who are -continually being compared with each other. Both of them assisted me for -years, while I was still directing a public dispensary for nervous -children. Scenes like the one reproduced in the dream have often taken -place there. While I was debating with Otto about the diagnosis of a -case, Leopold had examined the child anew and had made an unexpected -contribution towards the decision. For there was a difference of -character between the two similar to that between Inspector Brassig and -his friend Charles. The one was distinguished for his brightness, the -other was slow, thoughtful, but thorough. If I contrast Otto and the -careful Leopold in the dream, I do it, apparently, in order to extol -Leopold. It is a comparison similar to the one above between the -disobedient patient Irma and her friend who is thought to be more -sensible. I now become aware of one of the tracks along which the -thought association of the dream progresses; from the sick child to the -children’s asylum. The dulness to the left, below, recalls a certain -case corresponding to it, in every detail in which Leopold astonished me -by his thoroughness. Besides this, I have a notion of something like a -metastatic affection, but it might rather be a reference to the lady -patient whom I should like to have instead of Irma. For this lady, as -far as I can gather, resembles a woman suffering from tuberculosis. - -_An infiltrated portion of skin on the left shoulder._ - -I see at once that this is my own rheumatism of the shoulder, which I -always feel when I have remained awake until late at night. The turn of -phrase in the dream also sounds ambiguous; something which I feel ... in -spite of the dress. “Feel on my own body” is intended. Moreover, I am -struck with the unusual sound of the term “infiltrated portion of skin.” -“An infiltration behind on the upper left” is what we are accustomed to; -this would refer to the lung, and thus again to tuberculosis patients. - -_In spite of the dress._ - -This, to be sure, is only an interpolation. We, of course, examine the -children in the clinic undressed; it is some sort of contradiction to -the manner in which grown-up female patients must be examined. The story -used to be told of a prominent clinician that he always examined his -patients physically only through the clothes. The rest is obscure to me; -I have, frankly, no inclination to follow the matter further. - -_Dr. M. says: “It is an infection, but it does not matter. Dysentery -will develop, and the poison will he excreted._” - -This at first seems ridiculous to me; still it must be carefully -analysed like everything else. Observed more closely, it seems, however, -to have a kind of meaning. What I had found in the patient was local -diphtheritis. I remember the discussion about diphtheritis and -diphtheria at the time of my daughter’s illness. The latter is the -general infection which proceeds from local diphtheritis. Leopold proves -the existence of such general infection by means of the dulness, which -thus suggests a metastatic lesion. I believe, however, that just this -kind of metastasis does not occur in the case of diphtheria. It rather -recalls pyæmia. - -_It does not matter_, is a consolation. I believe it fits in as follows: -The last part of the dream has yielded a content to the effect that the -pains of the patient are the result of a serious organic affection. I -begin to suspect that with this I am only trying to shift the blame from -myself. Psychic treatment cannot be held responsible for the continued -presence of diphtheritic affection. But now, in turn, I am disturbed at -inventing such serious suffering for Irma for the sole purpose of -exculpating myself. It seems cruel. I need (accordingly) the assurance -that the result will be happy, and it does not seem ill-advised that I -should put the words of consolation into the mouth of Dr. M. But here I -consider myself superior to the dream, a fact which needs explanation. - -But why is this consolation so nonsensical? - -_Dysentery_: - -Some sort of far-fetched theoretical notion that pathological material -may be removed through the intestines. Am I in this way trying to make -fun of Dr. M.’s great store of far-fetched explanations, his habit of -finding curious pathological relationships? Dysentery suggests something -else. A few months ago I had in charge a young man suffering from -remarkable pains during evacuation of the bowels, a case which -colleagues had treated as “anæmia with malnutrition.” I realised that it -was a question of hysteria; I was unwilling to use my psychotherapy on -him, and sent him off on a sea voyage. Now a few days before I had -received a despairing letter from him from Egypt, saying that while -there he had suffered a new attack, which the physician had declared to -be dysentery. I suspect, indeed, that the diagnosis was only an error of -my ignorant colleague, who allows hysteria to make a fool of him; but -still I cannot avoid reproaching myself for putting the invalid in a -position where he might contract an organic affection of the bowels in -addition to his hysteria. Furthermore, dysentery sounds like diphtheria, -a word which does not occur in the dream. - -Indeed it must be that, with the consoling prognosis: “Dysentery will -develop, &c.,” I am making fun of Dr. M., for I recollect that years ago -he once jokingly told a very similar story of another colleague. He had -been called to consult with this colleague in the case of a woman who -was very seriously ill and had felt obliged to confront the other -physician, who seemed very hopeful, with the fact that he found albumen -in the patient’s urine. The colleague, however, did not let this worry -him, but answered calmly: “That does not matter, doctor; the albumen -will without doubt be excreted.” Thus I can no longer doubt that -derision for those colleagues who are ignorant of hysteria is contained -in this part of the dream. As though in confirmation, this question now -arises in my mind: “Does Dr. M. know that the symptoms of his patient, -of our friend Irma, which give cause for fearing tuberculosis, are also -based on hysteria? Has he recognised this hysteria, or has he stupidly -ignored it?” - -But what can be my motive in treating this friend so badly? This is very -simple: Dr. M. agrees with my solution as little as Irma herself. I have -thus already in this dream taken revenge on two persons, on Irma in the -words, “If you still have pains, it is your own fault,” and on Dr. M. in -the wording of the nonsensical consolation which has been put into his -mouth. - -_We have immediate knowledge of the origin of the infection._ - -This immediate knowledge in the dream is very remarkable. Just before we -did not know it, since the infection was first demonstrated by Leopold. - -_My friend Otto has recently given her an injection when she felt ill._ - -Otto had actually related that in the short time of his visit to Irma’s -family, he had been called to a neighbouring hotel in order to give an -injection to some one who fell suddenly ill. Injections again recall the -unfortunate friend who has poisoned himself with cocaine. I had -recommended the remedy to him merely for internal use during the -withdrawal of morphine, but he once gave himself injections of cocaine. - -_With a propyl preparation ... propyls ... propionic acid._ How did this -ever occur to me? On the same evening on which I had written part of the -history of the disease before having the dream, my wife opened a bottle -of cordial labelled “Ananas,”[W] (which was a present from our friend -Otto. For he had a habit of making presents on every possible occasion; -I hope he will some day be cured of this by a wife).[X] Such a smell of -fusel oil arose from this cordial that I refused to taste it. My wife -observed: “We will give this bottle to the servants,” and I, still more -prudent, forbade it, with the philanthropic remark: “They mustn’t be -poisoned either.” The smell of fusel oil (amyl ...) has now apparently -awakened in my memory the whole series, propyl, methyl, &c., which has -furnished the propyl preparation of the dream. In this, it is true, I -have employed a substitution; I have dreamt of propyl, after smelling -amyl, but substitutions of this kind are perhaps permissible, especially -in organic chemistry. - -_Trimethylamin._ I see the chemical formula of this substance in the -dream, a fact which probably gives evidence of a great effort on the -part of my memory, and, moreover, the formula is printed in heavy type, -as if to lay special stress upon something of particular importance, as -distinguished from the context. To what does this trimethylamin lead, -which has been so forcibly called to my attention? It leads to a -conversation with another friend who for years has known all my -germinating activities, as I have his. At that time he had just informed -me of some of his ideas about sexual chemistry, and had mentioned, among -others, that he thought he recognised in trimethylamin one of the -products of sexual metabolism. This substance thus leads me to -sexuality, to that factor which I credit with the greatest significance -for the origin of the nervous affections which I attempt to cure. My -patient Irma is a young widow; if I am anxious to excuse the failure of -her cure, I suppose I shall best do so by referring to this condition, -which her admirers would be glad to change. How remarkably, too, such a -dream is fashioned! The other woman, whom I take as my patient in the -dream instead of Irma, is also a young widow. - -I suspect why the formula of trimethylamin has made itself so prominent -in the dream. So many important things are gathered up in this one word: -Trimethylamin is not only an allusion to the overpowering factor of -sexuality, but also to a person whose sympathy I remember with -satisfaction when I feel myself forsaken in my opinions. Should not this -friend, who plays such a large part in my life, occur again in the chain -of thoughts of the dream? Of course, he must; he is particularly -acquainted with the results which proceed from affections of the nose -and its adjacent cavities, and has revealed to science several highly -remarkable relations of the turbinated bones to the female sexual organs -(the three curly formations in Irma’s throat). I have had Irma examined -by him to see whether the pains in her stomach might be of nasal origin. -But he himself suffers from suppurative rhinitis, which worries him, and -to this perhaps there is an allusion in pyæmia, which hovers before me -in the metastases of the dream. - -_Such injections are not made so rashly._ Here the reproach of -carelessness is hurled directly at my friend Otto. I am under the -impression that I had some thought of this sort in the afternoon, when -he seemed to indicate his siding against me by word and look. It was -perhaps: “How easily he can be influenced; how carelessly he pronounces -judgment.” Furthermore, the above sentence again points to my deceased -friend, who so lightly took refuge in cocaine injections. As I have -said, I had not intended injections of the remedy at all. I see that in -reproaching Otto I again touch upon the story of the unfortunate -Matilda, from which arises the same reproach against me. Obviously I am -here collecting examples of my own conscientiousness, but also of the -opposite. - -_Probably also the syringe was not clean._ Another reproach directed at -Otto, but originating elsewhere. The day before I happened to meet the -son of a lady eighty-two years of age whom I am obliged to give daily -two injections of morphine. At present she is in the country, and I have -heard that she is suffering from an inflammation of the veins. I -immediately thought that it was a case of infection due to contamination -from the syringe. It is my pride that in two years I have not given her -a single infection; I am constantly concerned, of course, to see that -the syringe is perfectly clean. For I am conscientious. From the -inflammation of the veins, I return to my wife, who had suffered from -emboli during a period of pregnancy, and now three related situations -come to the surface in my memory, involving my wife, Irma, and the -deceased Matilda, the identity of which three persons plainly justifies -my putting them in one another’s place. - -I have now completed the interpretation of the dream.[Y] In the course -of this interpretation I have taken great pains to get possession of all -the notions to which a comparison between the dream content and the -dream thoughts hidden behind it must have given rise. Meanwhile, the -“meaning” of the dream has dawned upon me. I have become conscious of a -purpose which is realised by means of the dream, and which must have -been the motive for dreaming. The dream fulfils several wishes, which -have been actuated in me by the events of the preceding evening (Otto’s -news, and the writing down of the history of the disease). For the -result of the dream is that I am not to blame for the suffering which -Irma still has, and that Otto is to blame for it. Now Otto has made me -angry by his remark about Irma’s imperfect cure; the dream avenges me -upon him by turning the reproach back upon himself. The dream acquits me -of responsibility for Irma’s condition by referring it to other causes, -which indeed furnish a great number of explanations. The dream -represents a certain condition of affairs as I should wish it to be; -_the content of the dream is thus the fulfilment of a wish; its motive -is a wish_. - -This much is apparent at first sight. But many things in the details of -the dream become intelligible when regarded from the point of view of -wish-fulfilment. I take revenge on Otto, not only for hastily taking -part against me, in that I accuse him of a careless medical operation -(the injection), but I am also avenged on him for the bad cordial which -smells like fusel oil, and I find an expression in the dream which -unites both reproaches; the injection with a preparation of propyl. -Still I am not satisfied, but continue my revenge by comparing him to -his more reliable competitor. I seem to say by this: “I like him better -than you.” But Otto is not the only one who must feel the force of my -anger. I take revenge on the disobedient patient by exchanging her for a -more sensible, more docile one. Nor do I leave the contradiction of Dr. -M. unnoticed, but express my opinion of him in an obvious allusion, to -the effect that his relation to the question is that of _an ignoramus_ -(“_dysentery will develop_,” _&c._). - -It seems to me, indeed, as though I were appealing from him to some one -better informed (my friend, who has told me about trimethylamin); just -as I have turned from Irma to her friend, I turn from Otto to Leopold. -Rid me of these three persons, replace them by three others of my own -choice, and I shall be released from the reproaches which I do not wish -to have deserved! The unreasonableness itself of these reproaches is -proved to me in the dream in the most elaborate way. Irma’s pains are -not charged to me, because she herself is to blame for them, in that she -refuses to accept my solution. Irma’s pains are none of my business, for -they are of an organic nature, quite impossible to be healed by a -psychic cure. Irma’s sufferings are satisfactorily explained by her -widowhood (trimethylamin!); a fact which, of course, I cannot alter. -Irma’s illness has been caused by an incautious injection on the part of -Otto, with an ill-suited substance—in a way I should never have made an -injection. Irma’s suffering is the result of an injection made with an -unclean syringe, just like the inflammation of the veins in my old lady, -while I never do any such mischief with my injections. I am aware, -indeed, that these explanations of Irma’s illness, which unite in -acquitting me, do not agree with one another; they even exclude one -another. The whole pleading—this dream is nothing else—recalls vividly -the defensive argument of a man who was accused by his neighbour of -having returned a kettle to him in a damaged condition. In the first -place, he said, he had returned the kettle undamaged; in the second, it -already had holes in it when he borrowed it; and thirdly, he had never -borrowed the kettle from his neighbour at all. But so much the better; -if even one of these three methods of defence is recognised as valid, -the man must be acquitted. - -Still other subjects mingle in the dream, whose relation to my release -from responsibility for Irma’s illness is not so transparent: the -illness of my daughter and that of a patient of the same name, the -harmfulness of cocaine, the illness of my patient travelling in Egypt, -concern about the health of my wife, my brother, of Dr. M., my own -bodily troubles, and concern about the absent friend who is suffering -from suppurative rhinitis. But if I keep all these things in view, they -combine into a single train of thought, labelled perhaps: Concern for -the health of myself and others—professional conscientiousness. I recall -an undefined disagreeable sensation as Otto brought me the news of -Irma’s condition. I should like to note finally the expression of this -fleeting sensation, which is part of the train of thought that is -mingled into the dream. It is as though Otto had said to me: “You do not -take your physician’s duties seriously enough, you are not -conscientious, do not keep your promises.” Thereupon this train of -thought placed itself at my service in order that I might exhibit proof -of the high degree in which I am conscientious, how intimately I am -concerned with the health of my relatives, friends, and patients. -Curiously enough, there are also in this thought material some painful -memories, which correspond rather to the blame attributed to Otto than -to the accusation against me. The material has the appearance of being -impartial, but the connection between this broader material, upon which -the dream depends, and the more limited theme of the dream which gives -rise to the wish to be innocent of Irma’s illness, is nevertheless -unmistakable. - -I do not wish to claim that I have revealed the meaning of the dream -entirely, or that the interpretation is flawless. - -I could still spend much time upon it; I could draw further explanations -from it, and bring up new problems which it bids us consider. I even -know the points from which further thought associations might be traced; -but such considerations as are connected with every dream of one’s own -restrain me from the work of interpretation. Whoever is ready to condemn -such reserve, may himself try to be more straightforward than I. I am -content with the discovery which has been just made. If the method of -dream interpretation here indicated is followed, it will be found that -the dream really has meaning, and is by no means the expression of -fragmentary brain activity, which the authors would have us believe. -_When the work of interpretation has been completed the dream may be -recognised as the fulfilment of a wish._ - - - - - III - THE DREAM IS THE FULFILMENT OF A WISH - - -When after passing a defile one has reached an eminence where the ways -part and where the view opens out broadly in different directions, it is -permissible to stop for a moment and to consider where one is to turn -next. Something like this happens to us after we have mastered this -first dream interpretation. We find ourselves in the open light of a -sudden cognition. The dream is not comparable to the irregular sounds of -a musical instrument, which, instead of being touched by the hand of the -musician, is struck by some outside force; the dream is not senseless, -not absurd, does not presuppose that a part of our store of ideas is -dormant while another part begins to awaken. It is a psychic phenomenon -of full value, and indeed the fulfilment of a wish; it takes its place -in the concatenation of the waking psychic actions which are -intelligible to us, and it has been built up by a highly complicated -intellectual activity. But at the very moment when we are inclined to -rejoice in this discovery, a crowd of questions overwhelms us. If the -dream, according to the interpretation, represents a wish fulfilled, -what is the cause of the peculiar and unfamiliar manner in which this -fulfilment is expressed? What changes have occurred in the dream -thoughts before they are transformed into the manifest dream which we -remember upon awaking? In what manner has this transformation taken -place? Whence comes the material which has been worked over into the -dream? What causes the peculiarities which we observe in the dream -thoughts, for example, that they may contradict one another? (The -analogy of the kettle, p. 87). Is the dream capable of teaching us -something new about our inner psychic processes, and can its content -correct opinions which we have held during the day? I suggest that for -the present all these questions be laid aside, and that a single path be -pursued. We have found that the dream represents a wish as fulfilled. It -will be our next interest to ascertain whether this is a universal -characteristic of the dream, or only the accidental content of the dream -(“of Irma’s injection”) with which we have begun our analysis, for even -if we make up our minds that every dream has a meaning and psychic -value, we must nevertheless allow for the possibility that this meaning -is not the same in every dream. The first dream we have considered was -the fulfilment of a wish; another may turn out to be a realised -apprehension; a third may have a reflection as to its content; a fourth -may simply reproduce a reminiscence. Are there then other wish dreams; -or are there possibly nothing but wish dreams? - -It is easy to show that the character of wish-fulfilment in dreams is -often undisguised and recognisable, so that one may wonder why the -language of dreams has not long since been understood. There is, for -example, a dream which I can cause as often as I like, as it were -experimentally. If in the evening I eat anchovies, olives, or other -strongly salted foods, I become thirsty at night, whereupon I waken. The -awakening, however, is preceded by a dream, which each time has the same -content, namely, that I am drinking. I quaff water in long draughts, it -tastes as sweet as only a cool drink can taste when one’s throat is -parched, and then I awake and have an actual desire to drink. The -occasion for this dream is thirst, which I perceive when I awake. The -wish to drink originates from this sensation, and the dream shows me -this wish as fulfilled. It thereby serves a function the nature of which -I soon guess. I sleep well, and am not accustomed to be awakened by a -bodily need. If I succeed in assuaging my thirst by means of the dream -that I am drinking, I need not wake up in order to satisfy it. It is -thus a dream of convenience. The dream substitutes itself for action, as -elsewhere in life. Unfortunately the need of water for quenching thirst -cannot be satisfied with a dream, like my thirst for revenge upon Otto -and Dr. M., but the intention is the same. This same dream recently -appeared in modified form. On this occasion I became thirsty before -going to bed, and emptied the glass of water which stood on the little -chest next to my bed. Several hours later in the night came a new attack -of thirst, accompanied by discomfort. In order to obtain water, I should -have had to get up and fetch the glass which stood on the night-chest of -my wife. I thus quite appropriately dreamt that my wife was giving me a -drink from a vase; this vase was an Etruscan cinerary urn which I had -brought home from an Italian journey and had since given away. But the -water in it tasted so salty (apparently from the ashes) that I had to -wake. It may be seen how conveniently the dream is capable of arranging -matters; since the fulfilment of a wish is its only purpose, it may be -perfectly egotistic. Love of comfort is really not compatible with -consideration for others. The introduction of the cinerary urn is -probably again the fulfilment of a wish; I am sorry that I no longer -possess this vase; it, like the glass of water at my wife’s side, is -inaccessible to me. The cinerary urn is also appropriate to the -sensation of a salty taste which has now grown stronger, and which I -know will force me to wake up.[Z] - -Such convenience dreams were very frequent with me in the years of my -youth. Accustomed as I had always been to work until late at night, -early awakening was always a matter of difficulty for me. I used then to -dream that I was out of bed and was standing at the wash-stand. After a -while I could not make myself admit that I have not yet got up, but -meanwhile I had slept for a time. I am acquainted with the same dream of -laziness as dreamt by a young colleague of mine, who seems to share my -propensity for sleep. The lodging-house keeper with whom he was living -in the neighbourhood of the hospital had strict orders to wake him on -time every morning, but she certainly had a lot of trouble when she -tried to carry out his orders. One morning sleep was particularly sweet. -The woman called into the room: “Mr. Joe, get up; you must go to the -hospital.” Whereupon the sleeper dreamt of a room in the hospital, a bed -in which he was lying, and a chart pinned over his head reading: “Joe -H.... cand. med. 22 years old.” He said to himself in the dream: “If I -am already at the hospital, I don’t have to go there,” turned over and -slept on. He had thus frankly admitted to himself his motive for -dreaming. - -Here is another dream, the stimulus for which acts during sleep itself: -One of my women patients, who had had to undergo an unsuccessful -operation on the jaw, was to wear a cooling apparatus on the affected -cheek, according to the orders of the physicians. But she was in the -habit of throwing it off as soon as she had got to sleep. One day I was -asked to reprove her for doing so; for she had again thrown the -apparatus on the floor. The patient defended herself as follows: “This -time I really couldn’t help it; it was the result of a dream which I had -in the night. In the dream, I was in a box at the opera and was taking a -lively interest in the performance. But Mr. Karl Meyer was lying in the -sanatorium and complaining pitifully on account of pains in his jaw. I -said to myself, ‘Since I haven’t the pains, I don’t need the apparatus -either,’ that’s why I threw it away.” This dream of the poor sufferer is -similar to the idea in the expression which comes to our lips when we -are in a disagreeable situation: “I know something that’s a great deal -more fun.” The dream presents this great deal more fun. Mr. Karl Meyer, -to whom the dreamer attributed her pains, was the most indifferent young -man of her acquaintance whom she could recall. - -It is no more difficult to discover the fulfilment of wishes in several -dreams which I have collected from healthy persons. A friend who knew my -theory of dreams and had imparted it to his wife, said to me one day: -“My wife asked me to tell you that she dreamt yesterday that she was -having her menses. You will know what that means.” Of course I know: if -the young wife dreams that she is having her menses, the menses have -stopped. I can understand that she would have liked to enjoy her freedom -for a time longer before the discomforts of motherhood began. It was a -clever way of giving notice of her first pregnancy. Another friend -writes that his wife had recently dreamt that she noticed milk stains on -the bosom of her waist. This is also an indication of pregnancy, but -this time not of the first one; the young mother wishes to have more -nourishment for the second child than she had for the first. - -A young woman, who for weeks had been cut off from company because she -was nursing a child that was suffering from an infectious disease, -dreams, after its safe termination, of a company of people in which A. -Daudet, Bourget, M. Prevost, and others are present, all of whom are -very pleasant to her and entertain her admirably. The different authors -in the dream also have the features which their pictures give them. M. -Prevost, with whose picture she is not familiar, looks like—the -disinfecting man who on the previous day had cleaned the sick rooms and -had entered them as the first visitor after a long period. Apparently -the dream might be perfectly translated thus: “It is about time now for -something more entertaining than this eternal nursing.” - -Perhaps this selection will suffice to prove that often and under the -most complex conditions dreams are found which can be understood only as -fulfilments of wishes, and which present their contents without -concealment. In most cases these are short and simple dreams, which -stand in pleasant contrast to the confused and teeming dream -compositions which have mainly attracted the attention of the authors. -But it will pay to spend some time upon these simple dreams. The most -simple dreams of all, I suppose, are to be expected in the case of -children, whose psychic activities are certainly less complicated than -those of adults. The psychology of children, in my opinion, is to be -called upon for services similar to those which a study of the anatomy -and development of the lower animals renders to the investigation of the -structure of the highest classes of animals. Until now only a few -conscious efforts have been made to take advantage of the psychology of -children for such a purpose. - -The dreams of little children are simple fulfilments of wishes, and as -compared, therefore, with the dreams of adults, are not at all -interesting. They present no problem to be solved, but are naturally -invaluable as affording proof that the dream in its essence signifies -the fulfilment of a wish. I have been able to collect several examples -of such dreams from the material furnished by my own children. - -For two dreams, one of my daughters, at that time eight and a half years -old, the other of a boy five and a quarter years of age, I am indebted -to an excursion to the beautiful Hallstatt in the summer of 1896. I must -make the preliminary statement that during this summer we were living on -a hill near Aussee, from which, when the weather was good, we enjoyed a -splendid view of the Dachstein from the roof of our house. The Simony -Hut could easily be recognised with a telescope. The little ones often -tried to see it through the telescope—I do not know with what success. -Before the excursion I had told the children that Hallstatt lay at the -foot of the Dachstein. They looked forward to the day with great joy. -From Hallstatt we entered the valley of Eschern, which highly pleased -the children with its varying aspects. One of them, however, the boy of -five, gradually became discontented. As often as a mountain came in -view, he would ask: “Is that the Dachstein?” whereupon I would have to -answer: “No, only a foot-hill.” After this question had been repeated -several times, he became altogether silent; and he was quite unwilling -to come along on the flight of steps to the waterfall. I thought he was -tired out. But the next morning, he approached me radiant with joy, and -said: “Last night I dreamt that we were at Simony Hut.” I understood him -now; he had expected, as I was speaking of the Dachstein, that on the -excursion to Hallstatt, he would ascend the mountain and would come face -to face with the hut, about which there had been so much discussion at -the telescope. When he learned that he was expected to be regaled with -foot-hills and a waterfall, he was disappointed and became discontented. -The dream compensated him for this. I tried to learn some details of the -dream; they were scanty. “Steps must be climbed for six hours,” as he -had heard. - -On this excursion wishes, destined to be satisfied only in dreams, had -arisen also in the mind of the girl of eight and a half years. We had -taken with us to Hallstatt the twelve-year-old boy of our neighbour—an -accomplished cavalier, who, it seems to me, already enjoyed the full -sympathy of the little woman. The next morning, then, she related the -following dream: “Just think, I dreamt that Emil was one of us, that he -said papa and mamma to you, and slept at our house in the big room like -our boys. Then mamma came into the room and threw a large handful of -chocolate bars under our beds.” The brothers of the girl, who evidently -had not inherited a familiarity with dream interpretation, declared just -like the authors: “That dream is nonsense.” The girl defended at least a -part of the dream, and it is worth while, from the point of view of the -theory of neuroses, to know which part: “That about Emil belonging to us -is nonsense, but that about the bars of chocolate is not.” It was just -this latter part that was obscure to me. For this mamma furnished me the -explanation. On the way home from the railway station the children had -stopped in front of a slot machine, and had desired exactly such -chocolate bars wrapped in paper with a metallic lustre, as the machine, -according to their experience, had for sale. But the mother had rightly -thought that the day had brought enough wish-fulfilment, and had left -this wish to be satisfied in dreams. This little scene had escaped me. I -at once understood that portion of the dream which had been condemned by -my daughter. I had myself heard the well-behaved guest enjoining the -children to wait until papa or mamma had come up. For the little one the -dream made a lasting adoption based on this temporary relation of the -boy to us. Her tender nature was as yet unacquainted with any form of -being together except those mentioned in the dream, which are taken from -her brothers. Why the chocolate bars were thrown under the bed could -not, of course, be explained without questioning the child. - -From a friend I have learnt of a dream very similar to that of my boy. -It concerned an eight-year-old girl. The father had undertaken a walk to -Dornbach with the children, intending to visit the Rohrerhütte, but -turned back because it had grown too late, and promised the children to -make up for their disappointment some other time. On the way back, they -passed a sign which showed the way to the Hameau. The children now asked -to be taken to that place also, but had to be content, for the same -reason, with a postponement to another day. The next morning, the -eight-year-old girl came to the father, satisfied, saying: “Papa, I -dreamt last night that you were with us at the Rohrerhütte and on the -Hameau.” Her impatience had thus in the dream anticipated the fulfilment -of the promise made by her father. - -Another dream, which the picturesque beauty of the Aussee inspired in my -daughter, at that time three and a quarter years old, is equally -straightforward. The little one had crossed the lake for the first time, -and the trip had passed too quickly for her. She did not want to leave -the boat at the landing, and cried bitterly. The next morning she told -us: “Last night I was sailing on the lake.” Let us hope that the -duration of this dream ride was more satisfactory to her. - -My eldest boy, at that time eight years of age, was already dreaming of -the realisation of his fancies. He had been riding in a chariot with -Achilles, with Diomed as charioteer. He had, of course, on the previous -day shown a lively interest in the _Myths of Greece_, which had been -given to his elder sister. - -If it be granted that the talking of children in sleep likewise belongs -to the category of dreaming, I may report the following as one of the -most recent dreams in my collection. My youngest girl, at that time -nineteen months old, had vomited one morning, and had therefore been -kept without food throughout the day. During the night which followed -upon this day of hunger, she was heard to call excitedly in her sleep: -“Anna Feud, strawberry, huckleberry, omelette, pap!” She used her name -in this way in order to express her idea of property; the menu must have -included about everything which would seem to her a desirable meal; the -fact that berries appeared in it twice was a demonstration against the -domestic sanitary regulations, and was based on the circumstance, by no -means overlooked by her, that the nurse ascribed her indisposition to an -over-plentiful consumption of strawberries; she thus in the dream took -revenge for this opinion which was distasteful to her.[AA] - -If we call childhood happy because it does not yet know sexual desire, -we must not forget how abundant a source of disappointment and -self-denial, and thus of dream stimulation, the other of the great -life-impulses may become for it.[AB] Here is a second example showing -this. My nephew of twenty-two months had been given the task of -congratulating me upon my birthday, and of handing me, as a present, a -little basket of cherries, which at that time of the year were not yet -in season. It seemed difficult for him, for he repeated again and again: -“Cherries in it,” and could not be induced to let the little basket go -out of his hands. But he knew how to secure his compensation. He had, -until now, been in the habit of telling his mother every morning that he -had dreamt of the “white soldier,” an officer of the guard in a white -cloak, whom he had once admired on the street. On the day after the -birthday, he awakened joyfully with the information which could have had -its origin only in a dream: “He(r)man eat up all the cherries!”[AC] - -What animals dream of I do not know. A proverb for which I am indebted -to one of my readers claims to know, for it raises the question: “What -does the goose dream of?” the answer being: “Of maize!” The whole theory -that the dream is the fulfilment of a wish is contained in these -sentences.[AD] - -We now perceive that we should have reached our theory of the hidden -meaning of the dream by the shortest road if we had merely consulted -colloquial usage. The wisdom of proverbs, it is true, sometimes speaks -contemptuously enough of the dream—it apparently tries to justify -science in expressing the opinion that “Dreams are mere bubbles;” but -still for colloquial usage the dream is the gracious fulfiller of -wishes. “I should never have fancied that in the wildest dream,” -exclaims one who finds his expectations surpassed in reality. - - - - - IV - DISTORTION IN DREAMS - - -If I make the assertion that wish fulfilment is the meaning of every -dream, that, accordingly, there can be no dreams except wish dreams, I -am sure at the outset to meet with the most emphatic contradiction. -Objections will be made to this effect: “The fact that there are dreams -which must be understood as fulfilments of wishes is not new, but, on -the contrary, has long since been recognised by the authors. _Cf._ -Radestock[54] (pp. 137–138), Volkelt[72] (pp. 110–111), Tissié[68] (p. -70), M. Simon[63] (p. 42) on the hunger dreams of the imprisoned Baron -Trenck, and the passage in Griesinger[31] (p. 11). The assumption that -there can be nothing but dreams of wish fulfilment, however, is another -of those unjustified generalisations by which you have been pleased to -distinguish yourself of late. Indeed dreams which exhibit the most -painful content, but not a trace of wish fulfilment, occur plentifully -enough. The pessimistic philosopher, Edward von Hartman, perhaps stands -furthest from the theory of wish fulfilment. He expresses himself in his -_Philosophy of the Unconscious_, Part II. (stereotyped edition, p. 34), -to the following effect:— - -“‘As regards the dream, all the troubles of waking life are transferred -by it to the sleeping state; only the one thing, which can in some -measure reconcile a cultured person to life-scientific and artistic -enjoyment is not transferred....’ But even less discontented observers -have laid emphasis on the fact that in dreams pain and disgust are more -frequent than pleasure; so Scholz[59] (p. 39), Volkelt[72] (p. 80), and -others. Indeed two ladies, Sarah Weed and Florence Hallam,[33] have -found from the elaboration of their dreams a mathematical expression for -the preponderance of displeasure in dreams. They designate 58 per cent. -of the dreams as disagreeable, and only 28·6 per cent. as positively -pleasant. Besides those dreams which continue the painful sensations of -life during sleep, there are also dreams of fear, in which this most -terrible of all disagreeable sensations tortures us until we awake, and -it is with just these dreams of fear that children are so often -persecuted (_Cf._ Debacker [17] concerning the Pavor Nocturnus), though -it is in the case of children that you have found dreams of wishing -undisguised.” - -Indeed it is the anxiety dreams which seem to prevent a generalisation -of the thesis that the dream is a wish-fulfilment, which we have -established by means of the examples in the last section; they seem even -to brand this thesis as an absurdity. - -It is not difficult, however, to escape these apparently conclusive -objections. Please observe that our doctrine does not rest upon an -acceptance of the manifest dream content, but has reference to the -thought content which is found to lie behind the dream by the process of -interpretation. Let us contrast the _manifest_ and the _latent dream -content_. It is true that there are dreams whose content is of the most -painful nature. But has anyone ever tried to interpret these dreams, to -disclose their latent thought content? If not, the two objections are no -longer valid against us; there always remains the possibility that even -painful and fearful dreams may be discovered to be wish fulfilments upon -interpretation.[AE] - -In scientific work it is often advantageous, when the solution of one -problem presents difficulties, to take up a second problem, just as it -is easier to crack two nuts together instead of separately. Accordingly -we are confronted not merely with the problem: How can painful and -fearful dreams be the fulfilments of wishes? but we may also, from our -discussion so far, raise the question: Why do not the dreams which show -an indifferent content, but turn out to be wish-fulfilments, show this -meaning undisguised? Take the fully reported dream of Irma’s injection; -it is in no way painful in its nature, and can be recognised, upon -interpretation, as a striking wish-fulfilment. Why, in the first place, -is an interpretation necessary? Why does not the dream say directly what -it means? As a matter of fact, even the dream of Irma’s injection does -not at first impress us as representing a wish of the dreamer as -fulfilled. The reader will not have received this impression, and even I -myself did not know it until I had undertaken the analysis. If we call -this peculiarity of the dream of needing an explanation _the fact of the -distortion_ of dreams, then a second question arises: What is the origin -of this disfigurement of dreams? - -If one’s first impressions on this subject were consulted, one might -happen upon several possible solutions; for example, that there is an -inability during sleep to find an adequate expression for the dream -thoughts. The analysis of certain dreams, however, compels us to give -the disfigurement of dreams another explanation. I shall show this by -employing a second dream of my own, which again involves numerous -indiscretions, but which compensates for this personal sacrifice by -affording a thorough elucidation of the problem. - -_Preliminary Statement._—In the spring of 1897 I learnt that two -professors of our university had proposed me for appointment as -Professor extraord. (assistant professor). This news reached me -unexpectedly and pleased me considerably as an expression of -appreciation on the part of two eminent men which could not be explained -by personal interest. But, I immediately thought, I must not permit -myself to attach any expectation to this event. The university -government had during the last few years left proposals of this kind -unconsidered, and several colleagues, who were ahead of me in years, and -who were at least my equals in merit, had been waiting in vain during -this time for their appointment. I had no reason to suppose I should -fare better. I resolved then to comfort myself. I am not, so far as I -know, ambitious, and I engage in medical practice with satisfying -results even without the recommendation of a title. Moreover, it was not -a question whether I considered the grapes sweet or sour, for they -undoubtedly hung much too high for me. - -One evening I was visited by a friend of mine, one of those colleagues -whose fate I had taken as a warning for myself. As he had long been a -candidate for promotion to the position of professor, which in our -society raises the physician to a demigod among his patients, and as he -was less resigned than I, he was in the habit of making representations -from time to time, at the offices of the university government, for the -purpose of advancing his interests. He came to me from a visit of that -kind. He said that this time he had driven the exalted gentleman into a -corner, and had asked him directly whether considerations of creed were -not really responsible for the deferment of his appointment. The answer -had been that to be sure—in the present state of public opinion—His -Excellency was not in a position, &c. “Now I at least know what I am -at,” said my friend in closing his narrative, which told me nothing new, -but which was calculated to confirm me in my resignation. For the same -considerations of creed applied to my own case. - -On the morning after this visit, I had the following dream, which was -notable on account of its form. It consisted of two thoughts and two -images, so that a thought and an image alternated. But I here record -only the first half of the dream, because the other half has nothing to -do with the purpose which the citation of the dream should serve. - -I. _Friend R. is my uncle—I feel great affection for him._ - -II. _I see before me his face somewhat altered._ - -_It seems to be elongated; a yellow beard, which surrounds it, is -emphasised with peculiar distinctness._ - -Then follow the other two portions, again a thought and an image, which -I omit. - -The interpretation of this dream was accomplished in the following -manner: - -As the dream occurred to me in the course of the forenoon, I laughed -outright and said: “The dream is nonsense.” But I could not get it out -of my mind, and the whole day it pursued me, until, at last, in the -evening I reproached myself with the words: “If in the course of dream -interpretation one of your patients had nothing better to say than ‘That -is nonsense,’ you would reprove him, and would suspect that behind the -dream there was hidden some disagreeable affair, the exposure of which -he wanted to spare himself. Apply the same thing in your own case; your -opinion that the dream is nonsense probably signifies merely an inner -resistance to its interpretation. Do not let yourself be deterred.” I -then proceeded to the interpretation. - -“R. is my uncle.” What does that mean. I have had only one uncle, my -uncle Joseph.[AF] His story, to be sure, was a sad one. He had yielded -to the temptation, more than thirty years before, of engaging in -dealings which the law punishes severely, and which on that occasion -also it had visited with punishment. My father, who thereupon became -grey from grief in a few days, always used to say that Uncle Joseph was -never a wicked man, but that he was indeed a simpleton; so he expressed -himself. If, then, friend R. is my uncle Joseph, that is equivalent to -saying: “R. is a simpleton.” Hardly credible and very unpleasant! But -there is that face which I see in the dream, with its long features and -its yellow beard. My uncle actually had such a face—long and surrounded -by a handsome blond beard. My friend R. was quite dark, but when -dark-haired persons begin to grow grey, they pay for the glory of their -youthful years. Their black beard undergoes an unpleasant change of -color, each hair separately; first it becomes reddish brown, then -yellowish brown, and then at last definitely grey. The beard of my -friend R. is now in this stage, as is my own moreover, a fact which I -notice with regret. The face which I see in the dream is at once that of -my friend R. and that of my uncle. It is like a composite photograph of -Galton, who, in order to emphasise family resemblances, had several -faces photographed on the same plate. No doubt is thus possible, I am -really of the opinion that my friend R. is a simpleton—like my uncle -Joseph. - -I have still no idea for what purpose I have constructed this -relationship, to which I must unconditionally object. But it is not a -very far-reaching one, for my uncle was a criminal, my friend R. is -innocent—perhaps with the exception of having been punished for knocking -down an apprentice with his bicycle. Could I mean this offence? That -would be making ridiculous comparisons. Here I recollect another -conversation which I had with another colleague, N., and indeed upon the -same subject. I met N. on the street. He likewise has been nominated for -a professorship, and having heard of my being honoured, congratulated me -upon it. I declined emphatically, saying, “You are the last man to make -a joke like this, because you have experienced what the nomination is -worth in your own case.” Thereupon he said, though probably not in -earnest, “You cannot be sure about that. Against me there is a very -particular objection. Don’t you know that a woman once entered a legal -complaint against me? I need not assure you that an inquiry was made; it -was a mean attempt at blackmail, and it was all I could do to save the -plaintiff herself from punishment. But perhaps the affair will be -pressed against me at the office in order that I may not be appointed. -You, however, are above reproach.” Here I have come upon a criminal, and -at the same time upon the interpretation and trend of the dream. My -uncle Joseph represents for me both colleagues who have not been -appointed to the professorship, the one as a simpleton, the other as a -criminal. I also know now for what purpose I need this representation. -If considerations of creed are a determining factor in the postponement -of the appointment of my friends, then my own appointment is also put in -question: but if I can refer the rejection of the two friends to other -causes, which do not apply to my case, my hope remains undisturbed. This -is the procedure of my dream; it makes the one, R., a simpleton, the -other, N., a criminal; since, however, I am neither the one nor the -other, our community of interest is destroyed, I have a right to enjoy -the expectation of being appointed a professor, and have escaped the -painful application to my own case of the information which the high -official has given to R. - -I must occupy myself still further with the interpretation of this -dream. For my feelings it is not yet sufficiently cleared up. I am still -disquieted by the ease with which I degrade two respected colleagues for -the purpose of clearing the way to the professorship for myself. My -dissatisfaction with my procedure has indeed diminished since I have -learnt to evaluate statements made in dreams. I would argue against -anyone who urged that I really consider R. a simpleton, and that I do -not credit N.’s account of the blackmail affair. I do not believe either -that Irma has been made seriously ill by an injection given her by Otto -with a preparation of propyl. Here, as before, it is only the _wish that -the case may be as the dream expresses it_. The statement in which my -wish is realised sounds less absurd in the second dream than in the -first; it is made here with a more skilful utilisation of facts as -points of attachment, something like a well-constructed slander, where -“there is something in it.” For my friend R. had at that time the vote -of a professor from the department against him, and my friend N. had -himself unsuspectingly furnished me with the material for slander. -Nevertheless, I repeat, the dream seems to me to require further -elucidation. - -I remember now that the dream contains still another portion which so -far our interpretation has not taken into account. After it occurs to me -that my friend R. is my uncle, I feel great affection for him. To whom -does this feeling belong? For my uncle Joseph, of course, I have never -had any feelings of affection. For years my friend R. has been beloved -and dear to me; but if I were to go to him and express my feelings for -him in terms which came anywhere near corresponding to the degree of -affection in the dream, he would doubtless be surprised. My affection -for him seems untrue and exaggerated, something like my opinion of his -psychic qualities, which I express by fusing his personality with that -of my uncle; but it is exaggerated in an opposite sense. But now a new -state of affairs becomes evident to me. The affection in the dream does -not belong to the hidden content, to the thoughts behind the dream; it -stands in opposition to this content; it is calculated to hide the -information which interpretation may bring. Probably this is its very -purpose. I recall with what resistance I applied myself to the work of -interpretation, how long I tried to postpone it, and how I declared the -dream to be sheer nonsense. I know from my psychoanalytical treatments -how such condemnation is to be interpreted. It has no value as affording -information, but only as the registration of an affect. If my little -daughter does not like an apple which is offered her, she asserts that -the apple has a bitter taste, without even having tasted it. If my -patients act like the little girl, I know that it is a question of a -notion which they want to _suppress_. The same applies to my dream. I do -not want to interpret it because it contains something to which I -object. After the interpretation of the dream has been completed, I find -out what it was I objected to; it was the assertion that R. is a -simpleton. I may refer the affection which I feel for R. not to the -hidden dream thoughts, but rather to this unwillingness of mine. If my -dream as compared with its hidden content is disfigured at this point, -and is disfigured, moreover, into something opposite, then the apparent -affection in the dream serves the purpose of disfigurement; or, in other -words, the disfigurement is here shown to be intended: it is a means of -dissimulation. My dream thoughts contain an unfavourable reference to -R.; in order that I may not become aware of it, its opposite, a feeling -of affection for him, makes its way into the dream. - -The fact here recognised might be of universal applicability. As the -examples in Section III. have shown, there are dreams which are -undisguised wish-fulfilments. Wherever a wish-fulfilment is -unrecognisable and concealed, there must be present a feeling of -repulsion towards this wish, and in consequence of this repulsion the -wish is unable to gain expression except in a disfigured state. I shall -try to find a case in social life which is parallel to this occurrence -in the inner psychic life. Where in social life can a similar -disfigurement of a psychic act be found? Only where two persons are in -question, one of whom possesses a certain power, while the other must -have a certain consideration for this power. This second person will -then disfigure his psychic actions, or, as we may say, he will -dissimulate. The politeness which I practise every day is largely -dissimulation of this kind. If I interpret my dreams for the benefit of -the reader I am forced to make such distortions. The poet also complains -about such disfigurement: - - “You may not tell the best that you know to the youngsters.” - -The political writer who has unpleasant truths to tell to the government -finds himself in the same position. If he tells them without reserve, -the government will suppress them—subsequently in case of a verbal -expression of opinion, preventatively, if they are to be published in -print. The writer must fear _censure_; he therefore modifies and -disfigures the expression of his opinion. He finds himself compelled, -according to the sensitiveness of this censure, either to restrain -himself from certain particular forms of attack or to speak in allusion -instead of direct designations. Or he must disguise his objectionable -statement in a garb that seems harmless. He may, for instance, tell of -an occurrence between two mandarins in the Orient, while he has the -officials of his own country in view. The stricter the domination of the -censor, the more extensive becomes the disguise, and often the more -humorous the means employed to put the reader back on the track of the -real meaning. - -The correspondence between the phenomena of the censor and those of -dream distortion, which may be traced in detail, justifies us in -assuming similar conditions for both. We should then assume in each -human being, as the primary cause of dream formation, two psychic forces -(streams, systems), of which one constitutes the wish expressed by the -dream, while the other acts as a censor upon this dream wish, and by -means of this censoring forces a distortion of its expression. The only -question is as to the basis of the authority of this second instance[AG] -by virtue of which it may exercise its censorship. If we remember that -the hidden dream thoughts are not conscious before analysis, but that -the apparent dream content is remembered as conscious, we easily reach -the assumption that admittance to consciousness is the privilege of the -second instance. Nothing can reach consciousness from the first system -which has not first passed the second instance, and the second instance -lets nothing pass without exercising its rights and forcing such -alterations upon the candidate for admission to consciousness as are -pleasant to itself. We are here forming a very definite conception of -the “essence” of consciousness; for us the state of becoming conscious -is a particular psychic act, different from and independent of becoming -fixed or of being conceived, and consciousness appears to us as an organ -of sense, which perceives a content presented from another source. It -may be shown that psychopathology cannot possibly dispense with these -fundamental assumptions. We may reserve a more thorough examination of -these for a later time. - -If I keep in mind the idea of the two psychic instances and their -relations to consciousness, I find in the sphere of politics a very -exact analogy for the extraordinary affection which I feel for my friend -R., who suffers such degradation in the course of the dream -interpretation. I turn my attention to a political state in which a -ruler, jealous of his rights, and a live public opinion are in conflict -with each other. The people are indignant against an official whom they -hate, and demand his dismissal; and in order not to show that he is -compelled to respect the public wish, the autocrat will expressly confer -upon the official some great honour, for which there would otherwise -have been no occasion. Thus the second instance referred to, which -controls access to consciousness, honours my friend R. with a profusion -of extraordinary tenderness, because the wish activities of the first -system, in accordance with a particular interest which they happen to be -pursuing, are inclined to put him down as a simpleton.[AH] - -Perhaps we shall now begin to suspect that dream interpretation is -capable of giving us hints about the structure of our psychic apparatus -which we have thus far expected in vain from philosophy. We shall not, -however, follow this track, but return to our original problem as soon -as we have cleared up the subject of dream-disfigurement. The question -has arisen how dreams with disagreeable content can be analysed as the -fulfilments of wishes. We see now that this is possible in case -dream-disfigurement has taken place, in case the disagreeable content -serves only as a disguise for what is wished. Keeping in mind our -assumptions in regard to the two psychic instances, we may now proceed -to say: disagreeable dreams, as a matter of fact, contain something -which is disagreeable to the second instance, but which at the same time -fulfils a wish of the first instance. They are wish dreams in the sense -that every dream originates in the first instance, while the second -instance acts towards the dream only in a repelling, not in a creative -manner. If we limit ourselves to a consideration of what the second -instance contributes to the dream, we can never understand the dream. If -we do so, all the riddles which the authors have found in the dream -remain unsolved. - -That the dream actually has a secret meaning, which turns out to be the -fulfilment of a wish, must be proved afresh for every case by means of -an analysis. I therefore select several dreams which have painful -contents and attempt an analysis of them. They are partly dreams of -hysterical subjects, which require long preliminary statements, and now -and then also an examination of the psychic processes which occur in -hysteria. I cannot, however, avoid this added difficulty in the -exposition. - -When I give a psychoneurotic patient analytical treatment, dreams are -always, as I have said, the subject of our discussion. It must, -therefore, give him all the psychological explanations through whose aid -I myself have come to an understanding of his symptoms, and here I -undergo an unsparing criticism, which is perhaps not less keen than that -I must expect from my colleagues. Contradiction of the thesis that all -dreams are the fulfilments of wishes is raised by my patients with -perfect regularity. Here are several examples of the dream material -which is offered me to refute this position. - -“You always tell me that the dream is a wish fulfilled,” begins a clever -lady patient. “Now I shall tell you a dream in which the content is -quite the opposite, in which a wish of mine is _not_ fulfilled. How do -you reconcile that with your theory? The dream is as follows:— - -“_I want to give a supper, but having nothing at hand except some smoked -salmon, I think of going marketing, but I remember that it is Sunday -afternoon, when all the shops are closed. I next try to telephone to -some caterers, but the telephone is out of order. Thus I must resign my -wish to give a supper._” - -I answer, of course, that only the analysis can decide the meaning of -this dream, although I admit that at first sight it seems sensible and -coherent, and looks like the opposite of a wish-fulfilment. “But what -occurrence has given rise to this dream?” I ask. “You know that the -stimulus for a dream always lies among the experiences of the preceding -day.” - -_Analysis._—The husband of the patient, an upright and conscientious -wholesale butcher, had told her the day before that he is growing too -fat, and that he must, therefore, begin treatment for obesity. He was -going to get up early, take exercise, keep to a strict diet, and above -all accept no more invitations to suppers. She proceeds laughingly to -relate how her husband at an inn table had made the acquaintance of an -artist, who insisted upon painting his portrait because he, the painter, -had never found such an expressive head. But her husband had answered in -his rough way, that he was very thankful for the honour, but that he was -quite convinced that a portion of the backside of a pretty young girl -would please the artist better than his whole face.[AI] She said that -she was at the time very much in love with her husband, and teased him a -good deal. She had also asked him not to send her any caviare. What does -that mean? - -As a matter of fact, she had wanted for a long time to eat a caviare -sandwich every forenoon, but had grudged herself the expense. Of course, -she would at once get the caviare from her husband, as soon as she asked -him for it. But she had begged him, on the contrary, not to send her the -caviare, in order that she might tease him about it longer. - -This explanation seems far-fetched to me. Unadmitted motives are in the -habit of hiding behind such unsatisfactory explanations. We are reminded -of subjects hypnotised by Bernheim, who carried out a posthypnotic -order, and who, upon being asked for their motives, instead of -answering: “I do not know why I did that,” had to invent a reason that -was obviously inadequate. Something similar is probably the case with -the caviare of my patient. I see that she is compelled to create an -unfulfilled wish in life. Her dream also shows the reproduction of the -wish as accomplished. But why does she need an unfulfilled wish? - -The ideas so far produced are insufficient for the interpretation of the -dream. I beg for more. After a short pause, which corresponds to the -overcoming of a resistance, she reports further that the day before she -had made a visit to a friend, of whom she is really jealous, because her -husband is always praising this woman so much. Fortunately, this friend -is very lean and thin, and her husband likes well-rounded figures. Now -of what did this lean friend speak? Naturally of her wish to become -somewhat stouter. She also asked my patient: “When are you going to -invite us again? You always have such a good table.” - -Now the meaning of the dream is clear. I may say to the patient: “It is -just as though you had thought at the time of the request: ‘Of course, -I’ll invite you, so you can eat yourself fat at my house and become -still more pleasing to my husband. I would rather give no more suppers.’ -The dream then tells you that you cannot give a supper, thereby -fulfilling your wish not to contribute anything to the rounding out of -your friend’s figure. The resolution of your husband to refuse -invitations to supper for the sake of getting thin teaches you that one -grows fat on the things served in company.” Now only some conversation -is necessary to confirm the solution. The smoked salmon in the dream has -not yet been traced. “How did the salmon mentioned in the dream occur to -you?” “Smoked salmon is the favourite dish of this friend,” she -answered. I happen to know the lady, and may corroborate this by saying -that she grudges herself the salmon just as much as my patient grudges -herself the caviare. - -The dream admits of still another and more exact interpretation, which -is necessitated only by a subordinate circumstance. The two -interpretations do not contradict one another, but rather cover each -other and furnish a neat example of the usual ambiguity of dreams as -well as of all other psychopathological formations. We have seen that at -the same time that she dreams of the denial of the wish, the patient is -in reality occupied in securing an unfulfilled wish (the caviare -sandwiches). Her friend, too, had expressed a wish, namely, to get -fatter, and it would not surprise us if our lady had dreamt that the -wish of the friend was not being fulfilled. For it is her own wish that -a wish of her friend’s—for increase in weight—should not be fulfilled. -Instead of this, however, she dreams that one of her own wishes is not -fulfilled. The dream becomes capable of a new interpretation, if in the -dream she does not intend herself, but her friend, if she has put -herself in the place of her friend, or, as we may say, has identified -herself with her friend. - -I think she has actually done this, and as a sign of this identification -she has created an unfulfilled wish in reality. But what is the meaning -of this hysterical identification? To clear this up a thorough -exposition is necessary. Identification is a highly important factor in -the mechanism of hysterical symptoms; by this means patients are enabled -in their symptoms to represent not merely their own experiences, but the -experiences of a great number of other persons, and can suffer, as it -were, for a whole mass of people, and fill all the parts of a drama by -means of their own personalities alone. It will here be objected that -this is well-known hysterical imitation, the ability of hysteric -subjects to copy all the symptoms which impress them when they occur in -others, as though their pity were stimulated to the point of -reproduction. But this only indicates the way in which the psychic -process is discharged in hysterical imitation; the way in which a -psychic act proceeds and the act itself are two different things. The -latter is slightly more complicated than one is apt to imagine the -imitation of hysterical subjects to be: it corresponds to an unconscious -concluded process, as an example will show. The physician who has a -female patient with a particular kind of twitching, lodged in the -company of other patients in the same room of the hospital, is not -surprised when some morning he learns that this peculiar hysterical -attack has found imitations. He simply says to himself: The others have -seen her and have done likewise: that is psychic infection. Yes, but -psychic infection proceeds in somewhat the following manner: As a rule, -patients know more about one another than the physician knows about each -of them, and they are concerned about each other when the visit of the -doctor is over. Some of them have an attack to-day: soon it is known -among the rest that a letter from home, a return of love-sickness or the -like, is the cause of it. Their sympathy is aroused, and the following -syllogism, which does not reach consciousness, is completed in them: “If -it is possible to have this kind of an attack from such causes, I too -may have this kind of an attack, for I have the same reasons.” If this -were a cycle capable of becoming conscious, it would perhaps express -itself in _fear_ of getting the same attack; but it takes place in -another psychic sphere, and, therefore, ends in the realisation of the -dreaded symptom. Identification is therefore not a simple imitation, but -a sympathy based upon the same etiological claim; it expresses an “as -though,” and refers to some common quality which has remained in the -unconscious. - -Identification is most often used in hysteria to express sexual -community. An hysterical woman identifies herself most readily—although -not exclusively—with persons with whom she has had sexual relations, or -who have sexual intercourse with the same persons as herself. Language -takes such a conception into consideration: two lovers are “one.” In the -hysterical phantasy, as well as in the dream, it is sufficient for the -identification if one thinks of sexual relations, whether or not they -become real. The patient, then, only follows the rules of the hysterical -thought processes when she gives expression to her jealousy of her -friend (which, moreover, she herself admits to be unjustified, in that -she puts herself in her place and identifies herself with her by -creating a symptom—the denied wish). I might further clarify the process -specifically as follows: She puts herself in the place of her friend in -the dream, because her friend has taken her own place in relation to her -husband, and because she would like to take her friend’s place in the -esteem of her husband.[AJ] - -The contradiction to my theory of dreams in the case of another female -patient, the most witty among all my dreamers, was solved in a simpler -manner, although according to the scheme that the non-fulfilment of one -wish signifies the fulfilment of another. I had one day explained to her -that the dream is a wish-fulfilment. The next day she brought me a dream -to the effect that she was travelling with her mother-inlaw to their -common summer resort. Now I knew that she had struggled violently -against spending the summer in the neighbourhood of her mother-in-law. I -also knew that she had luckily avoided her mother-in-law by renting an -estate in a far-distant country resort. Now the dream reversed this -wished-for solution; was not this in the flattest contradiction to my -theory of wish-fulfilment in the dream? Certainly, it was only necessary -to draw the inferences from this dream in order to get at its -interpretation. According to this dream, I was in the wrong. _It was -thus her wish that I should be in the wrong, and this wish the dream -showed her as fulfilled._ But the wish that I should be in the wrong, -which was fulfilled in the theme of the country home, referred to a more -serious matter. At that time I had made up my mind, from the material -furnished by her analysis, that something of significance for her -illness must have occurred at a certain time in her life. She had denied -it because it was not present in her memory. We soon came to see that I -was in the right. Her wish that I should be in the wrong, which is -transformed into the dream, thus corresponded to the justifiable wish -that those things, which at the time had only been suspected, had never -occurred at all. - -Without an analysis, and merely by means of an assumption, I took the -liberty of interpreting a little occurrence in the case of a friend, who -had been my colleague through the eight classes of the Gymnasium. He -once heard a lecture of mine delivered to a small assemblage, on the -novel subject of the dream as the fulfilment of a wish. He went home, -dreamt _that he had lost all his suits_—he was a lawyer—and then -complained to me about it. I took refuge in the evasion: “One can’t win -all one’s suits,” but I thought to myself: “If for eight years I sat as -Primus on the first bench, while he moved around somewhere in the middle -of the class, may he not naturally have had a wish from his boyhood days -that I, too, might for once completely disgrace myself?” - -In the same way another dream of a more gloomy character was offered me -by a female patient as a contradiction to my theory of the wish-dream. -The patient, a young girl, began as follows: “You remember that my -sister has now only one boy, Charles: she lost the elder one, Otto, -while I was still at her house. Otto was my favourite; it was I who -really brought him up. I like the other little fellow, too, but of -course not nearly as much as the dead one. Now I dreamt last night that -_I saw Charles lying dead before me_. _He was lying in his little -coffin, his hands folded: there were candles all about, and, in short, -it was just like the time of little Otto’s death, which shocked me so -profoundly._ Now tell me, what does this mean? You know me: am I really -bad enough to wish my sister to lose the only child she has left? Or -does the dream mean that I wish Charles to be dead rather than Otto, -whom I like so much better?” - -I assured her that this interpretation was impossible. After some -reflection I was able to give her the interpretation of the dream, which -I subsequently made her confirm. - -Having become an orphan at an early age, the girl had been brought up in -the house of a much older sister, and had met among the friends and -visitors who came to the house, a man who made a lasting impression upon -her heart. It looked for a time as though these barely expressed -relations were to end in marriage, but this happy culmination was -frustrated by the sister, whose motives have never found a complete -explanation. After the break, the man who was loved by our patient -avoided the house: she herself became independent some time after little -Otto’s death, to whom her affection had now turned. But she did not -succeed in freeing herself from the inclination for her sister’s friend -in which she had become involved. Her pride commanded her to avoid him; -but it was impossible for her to transfer her love to the other suitors -who presented themselves in order. Whenever the man whom she loved, who -was a member of the literary profession, announced a lecture anywhere, -she was sure to be found in the audience; she also seized every other -opportunity to see him from a distance unobserved by him. I remembered -that on the day before she had told me that the Professor was going to a -certain concert, and that she was also going there, in order to enjoy -the sight of him. This was on the day of the dream; and the concert was -to take place on the day on which she told me the dream. I could now -easily see the correct interpretation, and I asked her whether she could -think of any event which had happened after the death of little Otto. -She answered immediately: “Certainly; at that time the Professor -returned after a long absence, and I saw him once more beside the coffin -of little Otto.” It was exactly as I had expected. I interpreted the -dream in the following manner: If now the other boy were to die, the -same thing would be repeated. You would spend the day with your sister, -the Professor would surely come in order to offer condolence, and you -would see him again under the same circumstances as at that time. The -dream signifies nothing but this wish of yours to see him again, against -which you are fighting inwardly. I know that you are carrying the ticket -for to-day’s concert in your bag. Your dream is a dream of impatience; -it has anticipated the meeting which is to take place to-day by several -hours. - -In order to disguise her wish she had obviously selected a situation in -which wishes of that sort are commonly suppressed—a situation which is -so filled with sorrow that love is not thought of. And yet, it is very -easily probable that even in the actual situation at the bier of the -second, more dearly loved boy, which the dream copied faithfully, she -had not been able to suppress her feelings of affection for the visitor -whom she had missed for so long a time. - -A different explanation was found in the case of a similar dream of -another female patient, who was distinguished in her earlier years by -her quick wit and her cheerful demeanour, and who still showed these -qualities at least in the notions which occurred to her in the course of -treatment. In connection with a longer dream, it seemed to this lady -that she saw her fifteen-year-old daughter lying dead before her in a -box. She was strongly inclined to convert this dream-image into an -objection to the theory of wish-fulfilment, but herself suspected that -the detail of the box must lead to a different conception of the -dream.[AK] In the course of the analysis it occurred to her that on the -evening before, the conversation of the company had turned upon the -English word “box,” and upon the numerous translations of it into -German, such as box, theatre box, chest, box on the ear, &c. From other -components of the same dream it is now possible to add that the lady had -guessed the relationship between the English word “box” and the German -_Büchse_, and had then been haunted by the memory that _Büchse_ (as well -as “box”) is used in vulgar speech to designate the female genital -organ. It was therefore possible, making a certain allowance for her -notions on the subject of topographical anatomy, to assume that the -child in the box signified a child in the womb of the mother. At this -stage of the explanation she no longer denied that the picture of the -dream really corresponded to one of her wishes. Like so many other young -women, she was by no means happy when she became pregnant, and admitted -to me more than once the wish that her child might die before its birth; -in a fit of anger following a violent scene with her husband she had -even struck her abdomen with her fists in order to hit the child within. -The dead child was, therefore, really the fulfilment of a wish, but a -wish which had been put aside for fifteen years, and it is not -surprising that the fulfilment of the wish was no longer recognised -after so long an interval. For there had been many changes meanwhile. - -The group of dreams to which the two last mentioned belong, having as -content the death of beloved relatives, will be considered again under -the head of “Typical Dreams.” I shall there be able to show by new -examples that in spite of their undesirable content, all these dreams -must be interpreted as wish-fulfilments. For the following dream, which -again was told me in order to deter me from a hasty generalisation of -the theory of wishing in dreams, I am indebted, not to a patient, but to -an intelligent jurist of my acquaintance. “_I dream_,” my informant -tells me, “_that I am walking in front of my house with a lady on my -arm_. _Here a closed wagon is waiting, a gentleman steps up to me, gives -his authority as an agent of the police, and demands that I should -follow him. I only ask for time in which to arrange my affairs._ Can you -possibly suppose this is a wish of mine to be arrested?” “Of course -not,” I must admit. “Do you happen to know upon what charge you were -arrested?” “Yes; I believe for infanticide.” “Infanticide? But you know -that only a mother can commit this crime upon her newly born child?” -“That is true.”[AL] “And under what circumstances did you dream; what -happened on the evening before?” “I would rather not tell you that; it -is a delicate matter.” “But I must have it, otherwise we must forgo the -interpretation of the dream.” “Well, then, I will tell you. I spent the -night, not at home, but at the house of a lady who means very much to -me. When we awoke in the morning, something again passed between us. -Then I went to sleep again, and dreamt what I have told you.” “The woman -is married?” “Yes.” “And you do not wish her to conceive a child?” “No; -that might betray us.” “Then you do not practise normal coitus?” “I take -the precaution to withdraw before ejaculation.” “Am I permitted to -assume that you did this trick several times during the night, and that -in the morning you were not quite sure whether you had succeeded?” “That -might be the case.” “Then your dream is the fulfilment of a wish. By -means of it you secure the assurance that you have not begotten a child, -or, what amounts to the same thing, that you have killed a child. I can -easily demonstrate the connecting links. Do you remember, a few days ago -we were talking about the distress of matrimony (Ehenot), and about the -inconsistency of permitting the practice of coitus as long as no -impregnation takes place, while every delinquency after the ovum and the -semen meet and a fœtus is formed is punished as a crime? In connection -with this, we also recalled the mediæval controversy about the moment of -time at which the soul is really lodged in the fœtus, since the concept -of murder becomes admissible only from that point on. Doubtless you also -know the gruesome poem by Lenau, which puts infanticide and the -prevention of children on the same plane.” “Strangely enough, I had -happened to think of Lenau during the afternoon.” “Another echo of your -dream. And now I shall demonstrate to you another subordinate -wish-fulfilment in your dream. You walk in front of your house with the -lady on your arm. So you take her home, instead of spending the night at -her house, as you do in actuality. The fact that the wish-fulfilment, -which is the essence of the dream, disguises itself in such an -unpleasant form, has perhaps more than one reason. From my essay on the -etiology of anxiety neuroses, you will see that I note interrupted -coitus as one of the factors which cause the development of neurotic -fear. It would be consistent with this that if after repeated -cohabitation of the kind mentioned you should be left in an -uncomfortable mood, which now becomes an element in the composition of -your dream. You also make use of this unpleasant state of mind to -conceal the wish-fulfilment. Furthermore, the mention of infanticide has -not yet been explained. Why does this crime, which is peculiar to -females, occur to you?” “I shall confess to you that I was involved in -such an affair years ago. Through my fault a girl tried to protect -herself from the consequences of a _liaison_ with me by securing an -abortion. I had nothing to do with carrying out the plan, but I was -naturally for a long time worried lest the affair might be discovered.” -“I understand; this recollection furnished a second reason why the -supposition that you had done your trick badly must have been painful to -you.” - -A young physician, who had heard this dream of my colleague when it was -told, must have felt implicated by it, for he hastened to imitate it in -a dream of his own, applying its mode of thinking to another subject. -The day before he had handed in a declaration of his income, which was -perfectly honest, because he had little to declare. He dreamt that an -acquaintance of his came from a meeting of the tax commission and -informed him that all the other declarations of income had passed -uncontested, but that his own had awakened general suspicion, and that -he would be punished with a heavy fine. The dream is a poorly-concealed -fulfilment of the wish to be known as a physician with a large income. -It likewise recalls the story of the young girl who was advised against -accepting her suitor because he was a man of quick temper who would -surely treat her to blows after they were married. The answer of the -girl was: “I wish he _would_ strike me!” Her wish to be married is so -strong that she takes into the bargain the discomfort which is said to -be connected with matrimony, and which is predicted for her, and even -raises it to a wish. - -If I group the very frequently occurring dreams of this sort, which seem -flatly to contradict my theory, in that they contain the denial of a -wish or some occurrence decidedly unwished for, under the head of -“counter wish-dreams,” I observe that they may all be referred to two -principles, of which one has not yet been mentioned, although it plays a -large part in the dreams of human beings. One of the motives inspiring -these dreams is the wish that I should appear in the wrong. These dreams -regularly occur in the course of my treatment if the patient shows a -resistance against me, and I can count with a large degree of certainty -upon causing such a dream after I have once explained to the patient my -theory that the dream is a wish-fulfilment.[AM] I may even expect this -to be the case in a dream merely in order to fulfil the wish that I may -appear in the wrong. The last dream which I shall tell from those -occurring in the course of treatment again shows this very thing. A -young girl who has struggled hard to continue my treatment, against the -will of her relatives and the authorities whom she has consulted, dreams -as follows: _She is forbidden at home to come to me any more. She then -reminds me of the promise I made her to treat her for nothing if -necessary, and I say to her: “I can show no consideration in money -matters.”_ - -It is not at all easy in this case to demonstrate the fulfilment of a -wish, but in all cases of this kind there is a second problem, the -solution of which helps also to solve the first. Where does she get the -words which she puts into my mouth? Of course I have never told her -anything like that, but one of her brothers, the very one who has the -greatest influence over her, has been kind enough to make this remark -about me. It is then the purpose of the dream that this brother should -remain in the right; and she does not try to justify this brother merely -in the dream; it is her purpose in life and the motive for her being -ill. - -The other motive for counter wish-dreams is so clear that there is -danger of overlooking it, as for some time happened in my own case. In -the sexual make-up of many people there is a masochistic component, -which has arisen through the conversion of the aggressive, sadistic -component into its opposite. Such people are called “ideal” masochists, -if they seek pleasure not in the bodily pain which may be inflicted upon -them, but in humiliation and in chastisement of the soul. It is obvious -that such persons can have counter wish-dreams and disagreeable dreams, -which, however, for them are nothing but wish-fulfilments, affording -satisfaction for their masochistic inclinations. Here is such a dream. A -young man, who has in earlier years tormented his elder brother, towards -whom he was homosexually inclined, but who has undergone a complete -change of character, has the following dream, which consists of three -parts: (1) _He is “insulted” by his brother._ (2) _Two adults are -caressing each other with homosexual intentions._ (3) _His brother has -sold the enterprise whose management the young man reserved for his own -future._ He awakens from the last-mentioned dream with the most -unpleasant feelings, and yet it is a masochistic wish-dream, which might -be translated: It would serve me quite right if my brother were to make -that sale against my interest, as a punishment for all the torments -which he has suffered at my hands. - -I hope that the above discussion and examples will suffice—until further -objection can be raised—to make it seem credible that even dreams with a -painful content are to be analysed as the fulfilments of wishes. Nor -will it seem a matter of chance that in the course of interpretation one -always happens upon subjects of which one does not like to speak or -think. The disagreeable sensation which such dreams arouse is simply -identical with the antipathy which endeavours—usually with success—to -restrain us from the treatment or discussion of such subjects, and which -must be overcome by all of us, if, in spite of its unpleasantness, we -find it necessary to take the matter in hand. But this disagreeable -sensation, which occurs also in dreams, does not preclude the existence -of a wish; everyone has wishes which he would not like to tell to -others, which he does not want to admit even to himself. We are, on -other grounds, justified in connecting the disagreeable character of all -these dreams with the fact of dream disfigurement, and in concluding -that these dreams are distorted, and that the wish-fulfilment in them is -disguised until recognition is impossible for no other reason than that -a repugnance, a will to suppress, exists in relation to the -subject-matter of the dream or in relation to the wish which the dream -creates. Dream disfigurement, then, turns out in reality to be an act of -the censor. We shall take into consideration everything which the -analysis of disagreeable dreams has brought to light if we reword our -formula as follows: _The dream is the (disguised) fulfilment of a -(suppressed, repressed) wish._[AN] - -Now there still remain as a particular species of dreams with painful -content, dreams of anxiety, the inclusion of which under dreams of -wishing will find least acceptance with the uninitiated. But I can -settle the problem of anxiety dreams in very short order; for what they -may reveal is not a new aspect of the dream problem; it is a question in -their case of understanding neurotic anxiety in general. The fear which -we experience in the dream is only seemingly explained by the dream -content. If we subject the content of the dream to analysis, we become -aware that the dream fear is no more justified by the dream content than -the fear in a phobia is justified by the idea upon which the phobia -depends. For example, it is true that it is possible to fall out of a -window, and that some care must be exercised when one is near a window, -but it is inexplicable why the anxiety in the corresponding phobia is so -great, and why it follows its victims to an extent so much greater than -is warranted by its origin. The same explanation, then, which applies to -the phobia applies also to the dream of anxiety. In both cases the -anxiety is only superficially attached to the idea which accompanies it -and comes from another source. - -On account of the intimate relation of dream fear to neurotic fear, -discussion of the former obliges me to refer to the latter. In a little -essay on “The Anxiety Neurosis,”[AO] I maintained that neurotic fear has -its origin in the sexual life, and corresponds to a libido which has -been turned away from its object and has not succeeded in being applied. -From this formula, which has since proved its validity more and more -clearly, we may deduce the conclusion that the content of anxiety dreams -is of a sexual nature, the libido belonging to which content has been -transformed into fear. Later on I shall have opportunity to support this -assertion by the analysis of several dreams of neurotics. I shall have -occasion to revert to the determinations in anxiety dreams and their -compatibility with the theory of wish-fulfilment when I again attempt to -approach the theory of dreams. - - - - - V - THE MATERIAL AND SOURCES OF DREAMS - - -After coming to realise from the analysis of the dream of Irma’s -injection that the dream is the fulfilment of a wish, our interest was -next directed to ascertaining whether we had thus discovered a universal -characteristic of the dream, and for the time being we put aside every -other question which may have been aroused in the course of that -interpretation. Now that we have reached the goal upon one of these -paths, we may turn back and select a new starting-point for our -excursions among the problems of the dream, even though we may lose -sight for a time of the theme of wish-fulfilment, which has been as yet -by no means exhaustively treated. - -Now that we are able, by applying our process of interpretation, to -discover a _latent_ dream content which far surpasses the _manifest_ -dream content in point of significance, we are impelled to take up the -individual dream problems afresh, in order to see whether the riddles -and contradictions which seemed, when we had only the manifest content, -beyond our reach may not be solved for us satisfactorily. - -The statements of the authors concerning the relation of the dream to -waking life, as well as concerning the source of the dream material, -have been given at length in the introductory chapter. We may recall -that there are three peculiarities of recollection in the dreams, which -have been often remarked but never explained: - -1. That the dream distinctly prefers impressions of the few days -preceding; (Robert,[55] Strümpell,[66] Hildebrandt,[35] also Weed-Hallam -[33]). - -2. That it makes its selection according to principles other than those -of our waking memory, in that it recalls not what is essential and -important, but what is subordinate and disregarded (_cf._ p. 13). - -3. That it has at its disposal the earliest impressions of our -childhood, and brings to light details from this period of life which -again seem trivial to us, and which in waking life were considered long -ago forgotten.[AP] - -These peculiarities in the selection of the dream material have of -course been observed by the authors in connection with the manifest -dream content. - - - (_a_) _Recent and Indifferent Impressions in the Dream_ - -If I now consult my own experience concerning the source of the elements -which appear in the dream, I must at once express the opinion that some -reference to the experiences of _the day which has most recently passed_ -is to be found in every dream. Whatever dream I take up, whether my own -or another’s, this experience is always reaffirmed. Knowing this fact, I -can usually begin the work of interpretation by trying to learn the -experience of the previous day which has stimulated the dream; for many -cases, indeed, this is the quickest way. In the case of the two dreams -which I have subjected to close analysis in the preceding chapter (of -Irma’s injection, and of my uncle with the yellow beard) the reference -to the previous day is so obvious that it needs no further elucidation. -But in order to show that this reference may be regularly demonstrated, -I shall examine a portion of my own dream chronicle. I shall report the -dreams only so far as is necessary for the discovery of the dream -stimulus in question. - -1. I make a visit at a house where I am admitted only with difficulty, -&c., and meanwhile I keep a woman _waiting_ for me. - -_Source._—A conversation in the evening with a female relative to the -effect that she would have to _wait_ for some aid which she demanded -until, &c. - -2. I have written a _monograph_ about a certain (obscure) species of -plant. - -_Source._—I have seen in the show-window of a book store a _monograph_ -upon the genus cyclamen. - -3. I see two women on the street, _mother and daughter_, the latter of -whom is my patient. - -_Source._—A female patient who is under treatment has told me what -difficulties her _mother_ puts in the way of her continuing the -treatment. - -4. At the book store of S. and R. I subscribe to a periodical which -costs _20 florins_ annually. - -_Source._—During the day my wife has reminded me that I still owe her -_20 florins_ of her weekly allowance. - -5. I receive a _communication_, in which I am treated as a member, from -the Social Democratic Committee. - -_Source._—I have received _communications_ simultaneously from the -Liberal Committee on Elections and from the president of the -Humanitarian Society, of which I am really a member. - -6. A man on _a steep rock in the middle of the ocean_, after the manner -of Boecklin. - -_Source._—_Dreyfus on Devil’s Island_; at the same time news from my -relatives in _England_, &c. - -The question might be raised, whether the dream is invariably connected -with the events of the previous day, or whether the reference may be -extended to impressions from a longer space of time in the immediate -past. Probably this matter cannot claim primary importance, but I should -like to decide in favour of the exclusive priority of the day before the -dream (the dream-day). As often as I thought I had found a case where an -impression of two or three days before had been the source of the dream, -I could convince myself, after careful investigation, that this -impression had been remembered the day before, that a demonstrable -reproduction had been interpolated between the day of the event and the -time of the dream, and, furthermore, I was able to point out the recent -occasion upon which the recollection of the old impression might have -occurred. On the other hand, I was unable to convince myself that a -regular interval (H. Swoboda calls the first one of this kind eighteen -hours) of biological significance occurs between the stimulating -impression of the day and its repetition in the dream.[AQ] - -I am, therefore, of the opinion that the stimulus for every dream is to -be found among those experiences “upon which one has not yet slept” for -a night. - -Thus the impressions of the immediate past (with the exception of the -day before the night of the dream) stand in no different relation to the -dream content from those of times which are as far removed in the past -as you please. The dream may select its material from all times of life, -provided only, that a chain of thought starting from one of the -experiences of the day of the dream (one of the “recent” impressions) -reaches back to these earlier ones. - -But why this preference for recent impressions? We shall reach some -conjectures on this point if we subject one of the dreams already -mentioned to a more exact analysis. I select the dream about the -monograph. - -_Content of the dream.—I have written a monograph upon a certain plant. -The book lies before me, I am just turning over a folded coloured plate. -A dried specimen of the plant is bound with every copy, as though from a -herbarium._ - -_Analysis._—In the forenoon I saw in the show-window of a book store a -book entitled, _The Genus Cyclamen_, apparently a monograph on this -plant. - -The cyclamen is the favourite flower of my wife. I reproach myself for -so seldom thinking to bring her flowers, as she wishes. In connection -with the theme “bringing flowers,” I am reminded of a story which I -recently told in a circle of friends to prove my assertion that -forgetting is very often the purpose of the unconscious, and that in any -case it warrants a conclusion as to the secret disposition of the person -who forgets. A young woman who is accustomed to receive a bunch of -flowers from her husband on her birthday, misses this token of affection -on a festive occasion of this sort, and thereupon bursts into tears. The -husband comes up, and is unable to account for her tears until she tells -him, “To-day is my birthday.” He strikes his forehead and cries, “Why, I -had completely forgotten it,” and wants to go out to get her some -flowers. But she is not to be consoled, for she sees in the -forgetfulness of her husband a proof that she does not play the same -part in his thoughts as formerly. This Mrs. L. met my wife two days -before, and told her that she was feeling well, and asked about me. She -was under my treatment years ago. - -Supplementary facts: I once actually wrote something like a monograph on -a plant, namely, an essay on the coca plant, which drew the attention of -K. Koller to the anæsthetic properties of cocaine. I had hinted at this -use of the alkaloid in my publication, but I was not sufficiently -thorough to pursue the matter further. This suggests that on the -forenoon of the day after the dream (for the interpretation of which I -did not find time until the evening) I had thought of cocaine in a kind -of day phantasy. In case I should ever be afflicted with glaucoma, I was -going to go to Berlin, and there have myself operated upon, incognito, -at the house of my Berlin friend, by a physician whom he would recommend -to me. The surgeon, who would not know upon whom he was operating, would -boast as usual how easy these operations had become since the -introduction of cocaine; I would not betray by a single sign that I had -had a share in making this discovery. With this phantasy were connected -thoughts of how difficult it really is for a doctor to claim the medical -services of a colleague for his own person. I should be able to pay the -Berlin eye specialist, who did not know me, like anyone else. Only after -recalling this day-dream do I realise that the recollection of a -definite experience is concealed behind it. Shortly after Koller’s -discovery my father had, in fact, become ill with glaucoma; he was -operated upon by my friend, the eye specialist, Dr. Koenigstein. Dr. -Koller attended to the cocaine anæsthetisation, and thereupon made the -remark that all three of the persons who had shared in the introduction -of cocaine had been brought together on one case. - -I now proceed to think of the time when I was last reminded of this -affair about the cocaine. This was a few days before, when I received a -_Festschrift_, with whose publication grateful scholars had commemorated -the anniversary of their teacher and laboratory director. Among the -honours ascribed to persons connected with the laboratory, I found a -notice to the effect that the discovery of the anæsthetic properties of -cocaine had been made there by K. Koller. Now I suddenly become aware -that the dream is connected with an experience of the previous evening. -I had just accompanied Dr. Koenigstein to his home, and had spoken to -him about a matter which strongly arouses my interest whenever it is -mentioned. While I was talking with him in the vestibule, Professor -Gärtner and his young wife came up. I could not refrain from -congratulating them both upon their healthy appearance. Now Professor -Gärtner is one of the authors of the _Festschrift_ of which I have just -spoken, and may well have recalled it to me. Likewise Mrs. L., whose -birthday disappointment I have referred to, had been mentioned, in -another connection, to be sure, in the conversation with Dr. -Koenigstein. - -I shall now try to explain the other determinations of the dream -content. _A dried specimen_ of the plant accompanies the monograph as -though it were a _herbarium_. A recollection of the _gymnasium_ (school) -is connected with the herbarium. The director of our _gymnasium_ once -called the scholars of the higher classes together in order to have them -inspect and clean the herbarium. Small worms had been found—bookworms. -The director did not seem to have much confidence in my help, for he -left only a few leaves for me. I know to this day that there were -crucifers on them. My interest in botany was never very great. At my -preliminary examination in botany, I was required to identify a -crucifer, and did not recognise it. I would have fared badly if my -theoretical knowledge had not helped me out. Crucifers suggest -composites. The artichoke is really a composite, and the one which I -might call my favourite flower. My wife, who is more thoughtful than I, -often brings this favourite flower of mine home from the market. - -I see the monograph which I have written lying before me. This, too, is -not without its reference. The friend whom I pictured wrote to me -yesterday from Berlin: “I think a great deal about your dream book. _I -see it lying before me finished, and am turning over its leaves._” How I -envied him this prophetic power! If I could only see it lying already -finished before me! - -_The folded Coloured Plate._—While I was a student of medicine, I -suffered much from a fondness for studying in _monographs_ exclusively. -In spite of my limited means, I subscribed to a number of the medical -archives, in which the coloured plates gave me much delight. I was proud -of this inclination for thoroughness. So, when I began to publish on my -own account, I had to draw the plates for my own treatises, and I -remember one of them turned out so badly that a kindly-disposed -colleague ridiculed me for it. This suggests, I don’t know exactly how, -a very early memory from my youth. My father once thought it would be a -joke to hand over a book with _coloured plates_ (_Description of a -Journey in Persia_) to me and my eldest sister for destruction. This was -hardly to be justified from an educational point of view. I was at the -time five years old, and my sister three, and the picture of our -blissfully tearing this book to pieces (like an artichoke, I must add, -leaf by leaf) is almost the only one from this time of life which has -remained fresh in my memory. When I afterwards became a student, I -developed a distinct fondness for collecting and possessing books (an -analogy to the inclination for studying from monographs, a hobby which -occurs in the dream thoughts with reference to cyclamen and artichoke). -I became a book-worm (_cf._ herbarium). I have always referred this -first passion of my life—since I am engaging in retrospect—to this -childhood impression, or rather I have recognised in this childish scene -a “concealing recollection” for my subsequent love of books.[AR] Of -course I also learned at an early age that our passions are often our -sorrows. When I was seventeen years old I had a very respectable bill at -the book store, and no means with which to pay it, and my father would -hardly accept the excuse that my inclination had not been fixed on -something worse. But the mention of this later youthful experience -immediately brings me back to my conversation that evening with my -friend Dr. Koenigstein. For the talk on the evening of the dream-day -brought up the same old reproach that I am too fond of my hobbies. - -For reasons which do not belong here, I shall not continue the -interpretation of this dream, but shall simply indicate the path which -leads to it. In the course of the interpretation, I was reminded of my -conversation with Dr. Koenigstein, and indeed of more than one portion -of it. If I consider the subjects touched upon in this conversation, the -meaning of the dream becomes clear to me. All the thought associations -which have been started, about the hobbies of my wife and of myself, -about the cocaine, about the difficulty of securing medical treatment -from one’s colleagues, my preference for monographic studies, and my -neglect of certain subjects such as botany—all this continues and -connects with some branch of this widely ramified conversation. The -dream again takes on the character of a justification, of a pleading for -my rights, like the first analysed dream of Irma’s injection; it even -continues the theme which that dream started, and discusses it with the -new subject matter which has accrued in the interval between the two -dreams. Even the apparently indifferent manner of expression of the -dream receives new importance. The meaning is now: “I am indeed the man -who has written that valuable and successful treatise (on cocaine),” -just as at that time I asserted for my justification: “I am a thorough -and industrious student;” in both cases, then: “I can afford to do -that.” But I may dispense with the further interpretation of the dream, -because my only purpose in reporting it was to examine the relation of -the dream content to the experience of the previous day which arouses -it. As long as I know only the manifest content of this dream, but one -relation to a day impression becomes obvious; after I have made the -interpretation, a second source of the dream becomes evident in another -experience of the same day. The first of these impressions to which the -dream refers is an indifferent one, a subordinate circumstance. I see a -book in a shop window whose title holds me for a moment, and whose -contents could hardly interest me. The second experience has great -psychic value; I have talked earnestly with my friend, the eye -specialist, for about an hour, I have made allusions in this -conversation which must have touched both of us closely, and which -awakened memories revealing the most diverse feelings of my inner self. -Furthermore, this conversation was broken off unfinished because some -friends joined us. What, now, is the relation of these two impressions -of the day to each other and to the dream which followed during the next -night? - -I find in the manifest content merely an allusion to the indifferent -impression, and may thus reaffirm that the dream preferably takes up -into its content non-essential experiences. In the dream interpretation, -on the contrary, everything converges upon an important event which is -justified in demanding attention. If I judge the dream in the only -correct way, according to the latent content which is brought to light -in the analysis, I have unawares come upon a new and important fact. I -see the notion that the dream deals only with the worthless fragments of -daily experience shattered; I am compelled also to contradict the -assertion that our waking psychic life is not continued in the dream, -and that the dream instead wastes psychic activity upon a trifling -subject matter. The opposite is true; what has occupied our minds during -the day also dominates our dream thoughts, and we take pains to dream -only of such matters as have given us food for thought during the day. - -Perhaps the most obvious explanation for the fact that I dream about -some indifferent impression of the day, while the impression which is -justifiably stirring furnishes the occasion for dreaming, is that this -again is a phenomenon of the dream-disfigurement, which we have above -traced to a psychic power acting as a censor. The recollection of the -monograph on the genus cyclamen is employed as though it were an -allusion to the conversation with my friend, very much as mention of the -friend in the dream of the deferred supper is represented by the -allusion “smoked salmon.” The only question is, by what intermediate -steps does the impression of the monograph come to assume the relation -of an allusion to the conversation with the eye specialist, since such a -relation is not immediately evident. In the example of the deferred -supper, the relation is set forth at the outset; “smoked salmon,” as the -favourite dish of the friend, belongs at once to the series of -associations which the person of the friend would call up in the lady -who is dreaming. In our new example we have two separated impressions, -which seem at first glance to have nothing in common except that they -occur on the same day. The monograph catches my attention in the -forenoon; I take part in the conversation in the evening. The answer -supplied by the analysis is as follows: Such relations between the two -impressions do not at first exist, but are established subsequently -between the presentation content of the one impression and the -presentation content of the other. I have recently emphasised the -components in this relation in the course of recording the analysis. -With the notion of the monograph on cyclamen I should probably associate -the idea that cyclamen is my wife’s favourite flower only under some -outside influence, and this is perhaps the further recollection of the -bunch of flowers missed by Mrs. L. I do not believe that these -underlying thoughts would have been sufficient to call forth a dream. - - “There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave - To tell us this,” - -as we read in _Hamlet_. But behold! I am reminded in the analysis that -the name of the man who interrupted our conversation was Gärtner -(Gardener), and that I found his wife in blooming health;[AS] I even -remember now that one of my female patients, who bears the pretty name -of Flora, was for a time the main subject of our conversation. It must -have happened that I completed the connection between the two events of -the day, the indifferent and the exciting one, by means of these links -from the series of associations belonging to the idea of botany. Other -relations are then established, that of cocaine, which can with perfect -correctness form a go-between connecting the person of Dr. Koenigstein -with the botanical monograph which I have written, and strengthen the -fusion of the two series of associations into one, so that now a portion -of the first experience may be used as an allusion to the second. - -I am prepared to find this explanation attacked as arbitrary or -artificial. What would have happened if Professor Gärtner and his -blooming wife had not come up, and if the patient who was talked about -had been called, not Flora, but Anna? The answer is easy, however. If -these thought-relations had not been present, others would probably have -been selected. It is so easy to establish relations of this sort, as the -joking questions and conundrums with which we amuse ourselves daily -suffice to show. The range of wit is unlimited. To go a step further: if -it had been impossible to establish interrelations of sufficient -abundance between the two impressions of the day, the dream would simply -have resulted differently; another of the indifferent impressions of the -day, such as come to us in multitudes and are forgotten, would have -taken the place of the monograph in the dream, would have secured a -connection with the content of the talk, and would have represented it -in the dream. Since it was the impression of the monograph and no other -that had this fate, this impression was probably the most suitable for -the establishment of the connection. One need not be astonished, like -Lessing’s Hänschen Schlau, because “it is the rich people of the world -who possess the most money.” - -Still the psychological process by which, according to our conception, -the indifferent experience is substituted for the psychologically -important one, seems odd to us and open to question. In a later chapter -we shall undertake the task of making this seemingly incorrect operation -more intelligible. We are here concerned only with consequences of this -procedure, whose assumption we have been forced to make by the regularly -recurring experiences of dream analysis. But the process seems to be -that, in the course of those intermediate steps, a displacement—let us -say of the psychic accent—has taken place, until ideas that are at first -weakly charged with intensity, by taking over the charge from ideas -which have a stronger initial intensity, reach a degree of strength, -which enables them to force their way into consciousness. Such -displacements do not at all surprise us when it is a question of the -bestowal of affects or of the motor actions in general. The fact that -the woman who has remained single transfers her affection to animals, -that the bachelor becomes a passionate collector, that the soldier -defends a scrap of coloured cloth, his flag, with his life-blood, that -in a love affair a momentary clasping of hands brings bliss, or that in -_Othello_ a lost handkerchief causes a burst of rage—all these are -examples of psychic displacement which seem unquestionable to us. But -if, in the same manner and according to the same fundamental principles, -a decision is made as to what is to reach our consciousness and what is -to be withheld from it, that is to say, what we are to think—this -produces an impression of morbidity, and we call it an error of thought -if it occurs in waking life. We may here anticipate the result of a -discussion which will be undertaken later—namely, to the effect that the -psychic process which we have recognised as dream displacement proves to -be not a process morbidly disturbed, but a process differing from the -normal merely in being of a more primitive nature. - -We thus find in the fact that the dream content takes up remnants of -trivial experiences a manifestation of dream disfigurement (by means of -displacement), and we may recall that we have recognised this dream -disfigurement as the work of a censor which controls the passage between -two psychic instances. We accordingly expect that dream analysis will -regularly reveal to us the genuine, significant source of the dream in -the life of the day, the recollection of which has transferred its -accent to some indifferent recollection. This conception brings us into -complete opposition to Robert’s[55] theory, which thus becomes valueless -for us. The fact which Robert was trying to explain simply doesn’t -exist; its assumption is based upon a misunderstanding, upon the failure -to substitute the real meaning of the dream for its apparent content. -Further objection may be made to Robert’s doctrine: If it were really -the duty of the dream, by means of a special psychic activity, to rid -our memory of the “slag” of the recollections of the day, our sleep -would have to be more troubled and employed in a more strained effort -than we may suppose it to be from our waking life. For the number of -indifferent impressions received during the day, against which we should -have to protect our memory, is obviously infinitely large; the night -would not be long enough to accomplish the task. It is very much more -probable that the forgetting of indifferent impressions takes place -without any active interference on the part of our psychic powers. - -Still something cautions us against taking leave of Robert’s idea -without further consideration. We have left unexplained the fact that -one of the indifferent day-impressions—one from the previous day -indeed—regularly furnished a contribution to the dream-content. -Relations between this impression and the real source of the dream do -not always exist from the beginning; as we have seen, they are -established only subsequently, in the course of the dream-work, as -though in order to serve the purpose of the intended displacement. There -must, therefore, be some necessity to form connections in this -particular direction, of the recent, although indifferent impression; -the latter must have special fitness for this purpose because of some -property. Otherwise it would be just as easy for the dream thoughts to -transfer their accent to some inessential member of their own series of -associations. - -The following experiences will lead us to an explanation. If a day has -brought two or more experiences which are fitted to stimulate a dream, -then the dream fuses the mention of both into a single whole; it obeys -an _impulse to fashion a whole out of them_; for instance: One summer -afternoon I entered a railroad compartment, in which I met two friends -who were unknown to each other. One of them was an influential -colleague, the other a member of a distinguished family, whose physician -I was; I made the two gentlemen acquainted with each other; but during -the long ride I was the go-between in the conversation, so that I had to -treat a subject of conversation now with the one, now with the other. I -asked my colleague to recommend a common friend who had just begun his -medical practice. He answered that he was convinced of the young man’s -thoroughness, but that his plain appearance would make his entrance into -households of rank difficult. I answered: “That is just why he needs -recommendation.” Soon afterwards I asked the other fellow-traveller -about the health of his aunt—the mother of one of my patients—who was at -the time prostrated by a serious illness. During the night after this -journey I dreamt that the young friend, for whom I had asked assistance, -was in a splendid salon, and was making a funeral oration to a select -company with the air of a man of the world—the oration being upon the -old lady (now dead for the purposes of the dream) who was the aunt of -the second fellow-traveller. (I confess frankly that I had not been on -good terms with this lady.) My dream had thus found connections between -the two impressions of the day, and by means of them composed a unified -situation. - -In view of many similar experiences, I am driven to conclude that a kind -of compulsion exists for the dream function, forcing it to bring -together in the dream all the available sources of dream stimulation -into a unified whole.[AT] In a subsequent chapter (on the dream -function) we shall become acquainted with this impulse for putting -together as a part of condensation another primary psychic process. - -I shall now discuss the question whether the source from which the dream -originates, and to which our analysis leads, must always be a recent -(and significant) event, or whether a subjective experience, that is to -say, the recollection of a psychologically valuable experience—a chain -of thought—can take the part of a dream stimulus. The answer, which -results most unequivocally from numerous analyses, is to the following -effect. The stimulus for the dream may be a subjective occurrence, which -has been made recent, as it were, by the mental activity during the day. -It will probably not be out of place here to give a synopsis of various -conditions which may be recognised as sources of dreams. - -The source of a dream may be: - -(_a_) A recent and psychologically significant experience which is -directly represented in the dream.[AU] - -(_b_) Several recent, significant experiences, which are united by the -dream into a whole.[AV] - -(_c_) One or more recent and significant experiences, which are -represented in the dream by the mention of a contemporary but -indifferent experience.[AW] - -(_d_) A subjective significant experience (a recollection, train of -thought), which is _regularly_ represented in the dream by the mention -of a recent but indifferent impression.[AX] - -As may be seen, in dream interpretation the condition is firmly adhered -to throughout that each component of the dream repeats a recent -impression of the day. The element which is destined to representation -in the dream may either belong to the presentations surrounding the -actual dream stimulus itself—and, furthermore, either as an essential or -an inessential element of the same—or it may originate in the -neighbourhood of an indifferent impression, which, through associations -more or less rich, has been brought into relation with the thoughts -surrounding the dream stimulus. The apparent multiplicity of the -conditions here is produced by _the alternative according to whether -displacement has or has not taken place_, and we may note that this -alternative serves to explain the contrasts of the dream just as readily -as the ascending series from partially awake to fully awake brain cells -in the medical theory of the dream (_cf._ p. 64). - -Concerning this series, it is further notable that the element which is -psychologically valuable, but not recent (a train of thought, a -recollection) may be replaced, for the purposes of dream formation, by a -recent, but psychologically indifferent, element, if only these two -conditions be observed: 1. That the dream shall contain a reference to -something which has been recently experienced; 2. That the dream -stimulus shall remain a psychologically valuable train of thought. In a -single case (_a_) both conditions are fulfilled by the same impression. -If it be added that the same indifferent impressions which are used for -the dream, as long as they are recent, lose this availability as soon as -they become a day (or at most several days) older, the assumption must -be made that the very freshness of an impression gives it a certain -psychological value for dream formation, which is somewhat equivalent to -the value of emotionally accentuated memories or trains of thought. We -shall be able to see the basis of this value of _recent_ impressions for -dream formation only with the help of certain psychological -considerations which will appear later.[AY] - -Incidentally our attention is called to the fact that important changes -in the material comprised by our ideas and our memory may be brought -about unconsciously and at night. The injunction that one should sleep -for a night upon any affair before making a final decision about it is -obviously fully justified. But we see that at this point we have -proceeded from the psychology of dreaming to that of sleep, a step for -which there will often be occasion. - -Now there arises an objection threatening to invalidate the conclusions -we have just reached. If indifferent impressions can get into the dream -only in case they are recent, how does it happen that we find also in -the dream content elements from earlier periods in our lives, which at -the time when they were recent possessed, as Strümpell expresses it, no -psychic value, which, therefore, ought to have been forgotten long ago, -and which, therefore, are neither fresh nor psychologically significant? - -This objection can be fully met if we rely upon the results furnished by -psychoanalysis of neurotics. The solution is as follows: The process of -displacement which substitutes indifferent material for that having -psychic significance (for dreaming as well as for thinking) has already -taken place in those earlier periods of life, and has since become fixed -in the memory. Those elements which were originally indifferent are in -fact no longer so, since they have acquired the value of psychologically -significant material. That which has actually remained indifferent can -never be reproduced in the dream. - -It will be correct to suppose from the foregoing discussion that I -maintain that there are no indifferent dream stimuli, and that, -accordingly, there are no harmless dreams. This I believe to be the -case, thoroughly and exclusively, allowance being made for the dreams of -children and perhaps for short dream reactions to nocturnal sensations. -Whatever one may dream, it is either manifestly recognisable as -psychically significant or it is disfigured, and can be judged correctly -only after a complete interpretation, when, as before, it may be -recognised as possessing psychic significance. The dream never concerns -itself with trifles; we do not allow ourselves to be disturbed in our -sleep by matters of slight importance. Dreams which are apparently -harmless turn out to be sinister if one takes pains to interpret them; -if I may be permitted the expression, they all have “the mark of the -beast.” As this is another point on which I may expect opposition, and -as I am glad of an opportunity to show dream-disfigurement at work, I -shall here subject a number of dreams from my collection to analysis. - -1. An intelligent and refined young lady, who, however, in conduct, -belongs to the class we call reserved, to the “still waters,” relates -the following dream:— - -_Her husband asks: “Should not the piano be tuned?” She answers: “It -won’t pay; the hammers would have to be newly buffed too.”_ This repeats -an actual event of the previous day. Her husband had asked such a -question, and she had answered something similar. But what is the -significance of her dreaming it? She tells of the piano, indeed, that it -is a _disgusting old box_ which has a bad tone; it is one of the things -which her husband had before they were married,[AZ] &c., but the key to -the true solution lies in the phrase: _It won’t pay._ This originated in -a visit made the day before to a lady friend. Here she was asked to take -off her coat, but she declined, saying, “_It won’t pay._ I must go in a -moment.” At this point, I recall that during yesterday’s analysis she -suddenly took hold of her coat, a button of which had opened. It is, -therefore, as if she had said, “Please don’t look in this direction; it -won’t pay.” Thus “_box_” develops into “_chest_,” or breast-box -(“bust”), and the interpretation of the dream leads directly to a time -in her bodily development when she was dissatisfied with her shape. It -also leads to earlier periods, if we take into consideration -“_disgusting_” and “_bad tone_,” and remember how often in allusions and -in dreams the two small hemispheres of the feminine body take the -place—as a substitute and as an antithesis—of the large ones. - -II. I may interrupt this dream to insert a brief harmless dream of a -young man. He dreamt that _he was putting on his winter overcoat again, -which was terrible_. The occasion for this dream is apparently the cold -weather, which has recently set in again. On more careful examination we -note that the two short portions of the dream do not fit together well, -for what is there “terrible” about wearing a heavy or thick coat in the -cold? Unfortunately for the harmlessness of this dream, the first idea -educed in analysis is the recollection that on the previous day a lady -had secretly admitted to him that her last child owed its existence to -the bursting of a condom. He now reconstructs his thoughts in accordance -with this suggestion: A thin condom is dangerous, a thick one is bad. -The condom is an “overcoat” (_Überzieher_), for it is put over -something; _Ueberzieher_ is also the name given in German to a thin -overcoat. An experience like the one related by the lady would indeed be -“terrible” for an unmarried man.—We may now return to our other harmless -dreamer. - -III. _She puts a candle into a candlestick; but the candle is broken, so -that it does not stand straight. The girls at school say she is clumsy; -the young lady replies that it is not her fault._ - -Here, too, there is an actual occasion for the dream; the day before she -had actually put a candle into a candlestick; but this one was not -broken. A transparent symbolism has been employed here. The candle is an -object which excites the feminine genitals; its being broken, so that it -does not stand straight, signifies impotence on the man’s part (“it is -not her fault”). But does this young woman, carefully brought up, and a -stranger to all obscenity, know of this application of the candle? She -happens to be able to tell how she came by this information. While -riding in a boat on the Rhine, another boat passes containing students -who are singing or rather yelling, with great delight: “When the Queen -of Sweden with closed shutters and the candles of Apollo....” - -She does not hear or understand the last word. Her husband is asked to -give her the required explanation. These verses are then replaced in the -dream content by the harmless recollection of a command which she once -executed clumsily at a girls’ boarding school, this occurring by means -of the common features _closed shutters_. The connection between the -theme of onanism and that of impotence is clear enough. “Apollo” in the -latent dream content connects this dream with an earlier one in which -the virgin Pallas figured. All this is obviously not harmless. - -IV. Lest it may seem too easy a matter to draw conclusions from dreams -concerning the dreamer’s real circumstances, I add another dream coming -from the same person which likewise appears harmless. “_I dreamt of -doing something_,” she relates, “_which I actually did during the day, -that is to say, I filled a little trunk so full of hooks that I had -difficulty in closing it. My dream was just like the actual -occurrence._” Here the person relating the dream herself attaches chief -importance to the correspondence between the dream and reality. All such -criticisms upon the dream and remarks about it, although they have -secured a place in waking thought, regularly belong to the latent dream -content, as later examples will further demonstrate. We are told, then, -that what the dream relates has actually taken place during the day. It -would take us too far afield to tell how we reach the idea of using the -English language to help us in the interpretation of this dream. Suffice -it to say that it is again a question of a little box (_cf._ p. 130, the -dream of the dead child in the box) which has been filled so full that -nothing more can go into it. Nothing in the least sinister this time. - -In all these “harmless” dreams the sexual factor as a motive for the -exercise of the censor receives striking prominence. But this is a -matter of primary importance, which we must postpone. - - - (_b_) _Infantile Experiences as the Source of Dreams_ - -As the third of the peculiarities of the dream content, we have cited -from all the authors (except Robert) the fact that impressions from the -earliest times of our lives, which seem not to be at the disposal of the -waking memory, may appear in the dream. It is, of course, difficult to -judge how often or how seldom this occurs, because the respective -elements of the dream are not recognised according to their origin after -waking. The proof that we are dealing with childhood impressions must -thus be reached objectively, and the conditions necessary for this -happen to coincide only in rare instances. The story is told by A. -Maury,[48] as being particularly conclusive, of a man who decided to -visit his birthplace after twenty years’ absence. During the night -before his departure, he dreams that he is in an altogether strange -district, and that he there meets a strange man with whom he has a -conversation. Having afterward returned to his home, he was able to -convince himself that this strange district really existed in the -neighbourhood of his home town, and the strange man in the dream turned -out to be a friend of his dead father who lived there. Doubtless, a -conclusive proof that he had seen both the man and the district in his -childhood. The dream, moreover, is to be interpreted as a dream of -impatience, like that of the girl who carries her ticket for the concert -of the evening in her pocket (p. 110), of the child whose father had -promised him an excursion to the Hameau, and the like. The motives -explaining why just this impression of childhood is reproduced for the -dreamer cannot, of course, be discovered without an analysis. - -One of the attendants at my lectures, who boasted that his dreams were -very rarely subject to disfigurement, told me that he had sometime -before in a dream seen _his former tutor in bed with his nurse_, who had -been in the household until he was eleven years old. The location of -this scene does not occur to him in the dream. As he was much -interested, he told the dream to his elder brother, who laughingly -confirmed its reality. The brother said he remembered the affair very -well, for he was at the time six years old. The lovers were in the habit -of making him, the elder boy, drunk with beer, whenever circumstances -were favourable for nocturnal relations. The smaller child, at that time -three years old—our dreamer—who slept in the same room as the nurse, was -not considered an obstacle. - -In still another case it may be definitely ascertained, without the aid -of dream interpretation, that the dream contains elements from -childhood; that is, if it be a so-called _perennial_ dream, which being -first dreamt in childhood, later appears again and again after adult age -has been reached. I may add a few examples of this sort to those already -familiar, although I have never made the acquaintance of such a -perennial dream in my own case. A physician in the thirties tells me -that a yellow lion, about which he can give the most detailed -information, has often appeared in his dream-life from the earliest -period of his childhood to the present day. This lion, known to him from -his dreams, was one day discovered _in natura_ as a long-forgotten -object made of porcelain, and on that occasion the young man learned -from his mother that this object had been his favourite toy in early -childhood, a fact which he himself could no longer remember. - -If we now turn from the manifest dream content to the dream thoughts -which are revealed only upon analysis, the co-operation of childhood -experiences may be found to exist even in dreams whose content would not -have led us to suspect anything of the sort. I owe a particularly -delightful and instructive example of such a dream to my honoured -colleague of the “yellow lion.” After reading Nansen’s account of his -polar expedition, he dreamt that he was giving the bold explorer -electrical treatment in an ice field for an ischæmia of which the latter -complained! In the analysis of this dream, he remembered a story of his -childhood, without which the dream remains entirely unintelligible. When -he was a child, three or four years old, he was listening attentively to -a conversation of older people about trips of exploration, and presently -asked papa whether exploration was a severe illness. He had apparently -confused “trips” with “rips,” and the ridicule of his brothers and -sisters prevented his ever forgetting the humiliating experience. - -The case is quite similar when, in the analysis of the dream of the -monograph on the genus cyclamen, I happen upon the recollection, -retained from childhood, that my father allowed me to destroy a book -embellished with coloured plates when I was a little boy five years old. -It will perhaps be doubted whether this recollection actually took part -in the composition of the dream content, and it will be intimated that -the process of analysis has subsequently established the connection. But -the abundance and intricacy of the ties of association vouch for the -truth of my explanation: cyclamen—favourite flower—favourite -dish—artichoke; to pick to pieces like an artichoke, leaf by leaf (a -phrase which at that time rang in our ears à propos of the dividing up -of the Chinese Empire)—herbarium-bookworm, whose favourite dish is -books. I may state further that the final meaning of the dream, which I -have not given here, has the most intimate connection with the content -of the childhood scene. - -In another series of dreams we learn from analysis that the wish itself, -which has given rise to the dream, and whose fulfilment the dream turns -out to be, has originated in childhood—until one is astonished to find -that the child with all its impulses lives on in the dream. - -I shall now continue the interpretation of a dream which has already -proved instructive—I refer to the dream in which friend R. is my uncle -(p. 116). We have carried its interpretation far enough for the -wish-motive, of being appointed professor, to assert itself tangibly; -and we have explained the affection displayed in the dream for friend R. -as a fiction of opposition and spite against the aspersion of the two -colleagues, who appear in the dream thoughts. The dream was my own; I -may, therefore, continue the analysis by stating that my feelings were -not quite satisfied by the solution reached. I know that my opinion of -these colleagues who are so badly treated in the dream thoughts would -have been expressed in quite different terms in waking life; the potency -of the wish not to share their fate in the matter of appointment seemed -to me too slight to account for the discrepancy between my estimate in -the dream and that of waking. If my desire to be addressed by a new -title proves so strong it gives proof of a morbid ambition, which I did -not know to exist in me, and which I believe is far from my thoughts. I -do not know how others, who think they know me, would judge me, for -perhaps I have really been ambitious; but if this be true, my ambition -has long since transferred itself to other objects than the title and -rank of assistant-professor. - -Whence, then, the ambition which the dream has ascribed to me? Here I -remember a story which I heard often in my childhood, that at my birth -an old peasant’s wife had prophesied to my happy mother (I was her -first-born) that she had given to the world a great man. Such prophecies -must occur very frequently; there are so many mothers happy in -expectation, and so many old peasant wives whose influence on earth has -waned, and who have therefore turned their eyes towards the future. The -prophetess was not likely to suffer for it either. Might my hunger for -greatness have originated from this source? But here I recollect an -impression from the later years of my childhood, which would serve still -better as an explanation. It was of an evening at an inn on the -Prater,[BA] where my parents were accustomed to take me when I was -eleven or twelve years old. We noticed a man who went from table to -table and improvised verses upon any subject that was given to him. I -was sent to bring the poet to our table and he showed himself thankful -for the message. Before asking for his subject he threw off a few rhymes -about me, and declared it probable, if he could trust his inspiration, -that I would one day become a “minister.” I can still distinctly -remember the impression made by this second prophecy. It was at the time -of the election for the municipal ministry; my father had recently -brought home pictures of those elected to the ministry—Herbst, Giskra, -Unger, Berger, and others—and we had illuminated them in honour of these -gentlemen. There were even some Jews among them; every industrious -Jewish schoolboy therefore had the making of a minister in him. Even the -fact that until shortly before my enrolment in the University I wanted -to study jurisprudence, and changed my plans only at the last moment, -must be connected with the impressions of that time. A minister’s career -is under no circumstances open to a medical man. And now for my dream! I -begin to see that it transplants me from the sombre present to the -hopeful time of the municipal election, and fulfils my wish of that time -to the fullest extent. In treating my two estimable and learned -colleagues so badly, because they are Jews, the one as a simpleton and -the other as a criminal—in doing this I act as though I were the -minister of education, I put myself in his place. What thorough revenge -I take upon his Excellency! He refuses to appoint me professor -extraordinarius, and in return I put myself in his place in the dream. - -Another case establishes the fact that although the wish which actuates -the dream is a present one, it nevertheless draws great intensification -from childhood memories. I refer to a series of dreams which are based -upon the longing to go to Rome. I suppose I shall still have to satisfy -this longing by means of dreams for a long time to come, because, at the -time of year which is at my disposal for travelling, a stay at Rome is -to be avoided on account of considerations of health.[BB] Thus I once -dreamt of seeing the Tiber and the bridge of St. Angelo from the window -of a railroad compartment; then the train starts, and it occurs to me -that I have never entered the city at all. The view which I saw in the -dream was modelled after an engraving which I had noticed in passing the -day before in the parlour of one of my patients. On another occasion -some one is leading me upon a hill and showing me Rome half enveloped in -mist, and so far in the distance that I am astonished at the -distinctness of the view. The content of this dream is too rich to be -fully reported here. The motive, “to see the promised land from afar,” -is easily recognisable in it. The city is Lübeck, which I first saw in -the mist; the original of the hill is the Gleichenberg. In a third -dream, I am at last in Rome, as the dream tells me. To my -disappointment, the scenery which I see is anything but urban. _A little -river with black water, on one side of which are black rocks, on the -other large white flowers. I notice a certain Mr. Zucker_ (with whom I -am superficially acquainted), _and make up my mind to ask him to show me -the way into the city._ It is apparent that I am trying in vain to see a -city in the dream which I have never seen in waking life. If I resolve -the landscape into its elements, the white flowers indicate Ravenna, -which is known to me, and which, for a time at least, deprived Rome of -its leading place as capital of Italy. In the swamps around Ravenna we -had seen the most beautiful water-lilies in the middle of black pools of -water; the dream makes them grow on meadows, like the narcissi of our -own Aussee, because at Ravenna it was such tedious work to fetch them -out of the water. The black rock, so close to the water, vividly recalls -the valley of the Tepl at Karlsbad. “Karlsbad” now enables me to account -for the peculiar circumstance that I ask Mr. Zucker the way. In the -material of which the dream is composed appear also two of those amusing -Jewish anecdotes, which conceal so much profound and often bitter -worldly wisdom, and which we are so fond of quoting in our conversation -and letters. One is the story of the “constitution,” and tells how a -poor Jew sneaks into the express train for Karlsbad without a ticket, -how he is caught and is treated more and more unkindly at each call for -tickets by the conductor, and how he tells a friend, whom he meets at -one of the stations during his miserable journey, and who asks him where -he is travelling: “To Karlsbad, if my constitution will stand it.” -Associated with this in memory is another story about a Jew who is -ignorant of French, and who has express instructions to ask in Paris for -the way to the Rue Richelieu. Paris was for many years the object of my -own longing, and I took the great satisfaction with which I first set -foot on the pavement in Paris as a warrant that I should also attain the -fulfilment of other wishes. Asking for the way is again a direct -allusion to Rome, for of course all roads lead to Rome. Moreover, the -name Zucker (English, sugar) again points to _Karlsbad_, whither we send -all persons afflicted with the _constitutional_ disease, diabetes -(_Zuckerkrankheit_, sugar-disease). The occasion for this dream was the -proposal of my Berlin friend that we should meet in Prague at Easter. A -further allusion to sugar and diabetes was to be found in the matters -which I had to talk over with him. - -A fourth dream, occurring shortly after the last one mentioned, brings -me back to Rome. I see a street-corner before me and am astonished to -see so many German placards posted there. On the day before I had -written my friend with prophetic vision that Prague would probably not -be a comfortable resort for German travellers. The dream, therefore, -simultaneously expressed the wish to meet him at Rome instead of at the -Bohemian city, and a desire, which probably originated during my student -days, that the German language might be accorded more tolerance in -Prague. Besides I must have understood the Czech language in the first -three years of my childhood, because I was born in a small village of -Moravia, inhabited by Slavs. A Czech nursery rhyme, which I heard in my -seventeenth year, became, without effort on my part, so imprinted upon -my memory that I can repeat it to this day, although I have no idea of -its meaning. There is then no lack in these dreams also of manifold -relations to impressions from the first years of my life. - -It was during my last journey to Italy, which, among other places, took -me past Lake Trasimenus, that I at last found what re-enforcement my -longing for the Eternal City had received from the impressions of my -youth; this was after I had seen the Tiber, and had turned back with -painful emotions when I was within eighty kilometers of Rome. I was just -broaching the plan of travelling to Naples via Rome the next year, when -this sentence, which I must have read in one of our classical authors, -occurred to me: “It is a question which of the two paced up and down in -his room the more impatiently after he had made the plan to go to -Rome—Assistant-Headmaster Winckelman or the great general Hannibal.” I -myself had walked in Hannibal’s footsteps; like him I was destined never -to see Rome, and he too had gone to Campania after the whole world had -expected him in Rome. Hannibal, with whom I had reached this point of -similarity, had been my favourite hero during my years at the Gymnasium; -like so many boys of my age, I bestowed my sympathies during the Punic -war, not on the Romans, but on the Carthaginians. Then, when I came -finally to understand the consequences of belonging to an alien race, -and was forced by the anti-semitic sentiment among my class-mates to -assume a definite attitude, the figure of the semitic commander assumed -still greater proportions in my eyes. Hannibal and Rome symbolised for -me as a youth the antithesis between the tenaciousness of the Jews and -the organisation of the Catholic Church. The significance for our -emotional life which the anti-semitic movement has since assumed helped -to fix the thoughts and impressions of that earlier time. Thus the wish -to get to Rome has become the cover and symbol in my dream-life for -several warmly cherished wishes, for the realisation of which one might -work with the perseverance and single-mindedness of the Punic general, -and whose fulfilment sometimes seems as little favoured by fortune as -the wish of Hannibal’s life to enter Rome. - -And now for the first time I happen upon the youthful experience which, -even to-day, still manifests its power in all these emotions and dreams. -I may have been ten or twelve years old when my father began to take me -with him on his walks, and to reveal to me his views about the things of -this world in his conversation. In this way he once told me, in order to -show into how much better times I had been born than he, the following: -“While I was a young man, I was walking one Saturday on a street in the -village where you were born; I was handsomely dressed and wore a new fur -cap. Along comes a Christian, who knocks my cap into the mud with one -blow and shouts: “Jew, get off the sidewalk.” “And what did you do?” “I -went into the street and picked up the cap,” was the calm answer. That -did not seem heroic on the part of the big strong man, who was leading -me, a little fellow, by the hand. I contrasted this situation, which did -not please me, with another more in harmony with my feelings—the scene -in which Hannibal’s father, Hamilcar[BC] Barka made his boy swear at the -domestic altar to take vengeance on the Romans. Since that time Hannibal -has had a place in my phantasies.” - -I think I can follow my enthusiasm for the Carthaginian general still -further back into my childhood, so that possibly we have here the -transference of an already formed emotional relation to a new vehicle. -One of the first books which fell into my childish hands, after I -learned to read, was Thiers’ _Konsulat und Kaiserreich_ (Consulship and -Empire); I remember I pasted on the flat backs of my wooden soldiers -little labels with the names of the Imperial marshals, and that at that -time Masséna (as a Jew Menasse) was already my avowed favourite. -Napoleon himself follows Hannibal in crossing the Alps. And perhaps the -development of this martial ideal can be traced still further back into -my childhood, to the wish which the now friendly, now hostile, -intercourse during my first three years with a boy a year older than -myself must have actuated in the weaker of the two playmates. - -The deeper one goes in the analysis of dreams, the more often one is put -on the track of childish experiences which play the part of dream -sources in the latent dream content. - -We have learned (p. 16) that the dream very rarely reproduces -experiences in such a manner that they constitute the sole manifest -dream content, unabridged and unchanged. Still some authentic examples -showing this process have been reported, and I can add some new ones -which again refer to infantile scenes. In the case of one of my -patients, a dream once gave a barely disfigured reproduction of a sexual -occurrence, which was immediately recognised as an accurate -recollection. The memory of it indeed had never been lost in waking -life, but it had been greatly obscured, and its revivification was a -result of the preceding work of analysis. The dreamer had at the age of -twelve visited a bed-ridden schoolmate, who had exposed himself by a -movement in bed, probably only by chance. At the sight of the genitals, -he was seized by a kind of compulsion, exposed himself and took hold of -the member belonging to the other boy, who, however, looked at him with -surprise and indignation, whereupon he became embarrassed and let go. A -dream repeated this scene twenty-three years later, with all the details -of the emotions occurring in it, changing it, however, in this respect, -that the dreamer took the passive part instead of the active one, while -the person of the schoolmate was replaced by one belonging to the -present. - -As a rule, of course, a childhood scene is represented in the manifest -dream content only by an allusion, and must be extricated from the dream -by means of interpretation. The citation of examples of this kind cannot -have a very convincing effect, because every guarantee that they are -experiences of childhood is lacking; if they belong to an earlier time -of life, they are no longer recognised by our memory. Justification for -the conclusion that such childish experiences generally exist in dreams -is based upon a great number of factors which become apparent in -psychoanalytical work, and which seem reliable enough when regarded as a -whole. But when, for the purposes of dream interpretation, such -references of dreams to childish experiences are torn from their -context, they will perhaps not make much impression, especially since I -never give all the material upon which the interpretation depends. -However, I shall not let this prevent me from giving some examples. - -I. The following dream is from another female patient: _She is in a -large room, in which there are all kinds of machines, perhaps, as she -imagines, an orthopædic institute. She hears that I have no time, and -that she must take the treatment along with five others. But she -resists, and is unwilling to lie down on the bed—or whatever it is—which -is intended for her. She stands in a corner and waits for me to say “It -is not true.” The others, meanwhile, laugh at her, saying it is all -foolishness on her part. At the same time it is as if she were called -upon to make many small squares._ - -The first part of the content of this dream is an allusion to the -treatment and a transference on me. The second contains an allusion to a -childhood scene; the two portions are connected by the mention of the -bed. The orthopædic institute refers to one of my talks in which I -compared the treatment as to its duration and nature with an orthopædic -treatment. At the beginning of the treatment I had to tell her that _for -the present_ I had little time for her, but that later on I would devote -a whole hour to her daily. This aroused in her the old sensitiveness, -which is the chief characteristic of children who are to be hysterical. -Their desire for love is insatiable. My patient was the youngest of six -brothers and sisters (hence, “_with five others_”), and as such the -favourite of her father, but in spite of that she seems to have found -that her beloved father devoted too little time and attention to her. -The detail of her waiting for me to say “It is not true,” has the -following explanation: A tailor’s apprentice had brought her a dress, -and she had given him the money for it. Then she asked her husband -whether she would have to pay the money again if the boy were to lose -it. To tease her, her husband answered “Yes” (the teasing in the dream), -and she asked again and again, and _waited for him to say_ “_It is not -true._” The thought of the latent dream-content may now be construed as -follows: Will she have to pay me the double amount if I devote twice the -time to her? a thought which is stingy or filthy. (The uncleanliness of -childhood is often replaced in the dream by greediness for money; the -word filthy here supplies the bridge.) If all that about waiting until I -should say, &c., serves as a dream circumlocution for the word “filthy,” -the standing-in-a-corner and not lying down-on-the-bed are in keeping; -for these two features are component parts of a scene of childhood, in -which she had soiled her bed, and for punishment was put into a corner, -with the warning that papa would not love her any more, and her brothers -and sisters laughed at her, &c. The little squares refer to her young -niece, who has shown her the arithmetical trick of writing figures in -nine squares, I believe it is, in such a way that upon being added -together in any direction they make fifteen. - -II. Here is the dream of a man: _He sees two boys tussling with each -other, and they are cooper’s boys, as he concludes from the implements -which are lying about; one of the boys has thrown the other down, the -prostrate one wears ear-rings with blue stones. He hurries after the -wrongdoer with lifted cane, in order to chastise him. The latter takes -refuge with a woman who is standing against a wooden fence, as though it -were his mother. She is the wife of a day labourer, and she turns her -back to the man who is dreaming. At last she faces about and stares at -him with a horrible look, so that he runs away in fright; in her eyes -the red flesh of the lower lid seems to stand out._ - -The dream has made abundant use of trivial occurrences of the previous -day. The day before he actually saw two boys on the street, one of whom -threw the other one down. When he hurried up to them in order to settle -the quarrel, both of them took flight. Coopers’ boys: this is explained -only by a subsequent dream, in the analysis of which he used the -expression, “_To knock the bottom out of the barrel._” Ear-rings with -blue stones, according to his observation, are chiefly worn by -prostitutes. Furthermore, a familiar doggerel rhyme about two boys comes -up: “The other boy, his name was Mary” (that is, he was a girl). The -woman standing up: after the scene with the two boys, he took a walk on -the bank of the Danube, and took advantage of being alone to urinate -_against a wooden fence_. A little later during his walk, a decently -dressed elderly lady smiled at him very pleasantly, and wanted to hand -him her card with her address. - -Since in the dream the woman stood as he had while urinating, it is a -question of a woman urinating, and this explains the “horrible look,” -and the prominence of the red flesh, which can only refer to the -genitals which gap in squatting. He had seen genitals in his childhood, -and they had appeared in later recollection as “proud flesh” and as -“wound.” The dream unites two occasions upon which, as a young boy, the -dreamer had had opportunity to see the genitals of little girls, in -throwing one down, and while another was urinating; and, as is shown by -another association, he had kept in memory a punishment or threat of his -father’s, called forth by the sexual curiosity which the boy manifested -on these occasions. - -III. A great mass of childish memories, which have been hastily united -in a phantasy, is to be found behind the following dream of a young -lady. - -_She goes out in trepidation, in order to do some shopping. On the -Graben[BD] she sinks to her knees as though broken down. Many people -collect around her, especially the hackney-coach drivers; but no one -helps her to get up. She makes many unavailing attempts; finally she -must have succeeded, for she is put into a hackney-coach which is to -take her home. A large, heavily laden basket (something like a -market-basket) is thrown after her through the window._ - -This is the same woman who is always harassed in her dreams as she was -harassed when a child. The first situation of the dream is apparently -taken from seeing a horse that had fallen, just as “broken down” points -to horse-racing. She was a rider in her early years, still earlier she -was probably also a horse. Her first childish memory of the -seventeen-year-old son of the porter, who, being seized on the street by -an epileptic fit, was brought home in a coach, is connected with the -idea of falling down. Of this, of course, she has only heard, but the -idea of epileptic fits and of falling down has obtained great power over -her phantasies, and has later influenced the form of her own hysterical -attacks. When a person of the female sex dreams of falling, this almost -regularly has a sexual significance; she becomes a “fallen woman,” and -for the purpose of the dream under consideration this interpretation is -probably the least doubtful, for she falls on the Graben, the place in -Vienna which is known as the concourse of prostitutes. The market-basket -admits of more than one interpretation; in the sense of refusal (German, -_Korb_ = basket—snub, refusal), she remembers the many snubs which she -first gave her suitors, and which she later, as she thinks, received -herself. Here belongs also the detail that _no one will help her up_, -which she herself interprets as being disdained. Furthermore, the -market-basket recalls phantasies that have already appeared in the -course of analysis, in which she imagines she has married far beneath -her station, and now goes marketing herself. But lastly the -market-basket might be interpreted as the mark of a servant. This -suggests further childhood memories—of a cook who was sent away because -she stole; she, too, sank to her knees and begged for mercy. The dreamer -was at that time twelve years old. Then there is a recollection of a -chamber-maid, who was dismissed because she had an affair with the -coachman of the household, who, incidentally, married her afterwards. -This recollection, therefore, gives us a clue to the coachman in the -dream (who do not, in contrast with what is actually the case, take the -part of the fallen woman). But there still remains to be explained the -throwing of the basket, and the throwing of it through the window. This -takes her to the transference of baggage on the railroad, to the -_Fensterln_,[BE] in the country, and to minor impressions received at a -country resort, of a gentleman throwing some blue plums to a lady -through her window, and of the dreamer’s little sister being frightened -because a cretin who was passing looked in at the window. And now from -behind this there emerges an obscure recollection, from her tenth year, -of a nurse who made love at the country resort with a servant of the -household, of which the child had opportunity to see something, and who -was “fired” (thrown out) (in the dream the opposite: “thrown into”), a -story which we had also approached by several other paths. The baggage, -moreover, or the trunk of a servant, is disparagingly referred to in -Vienna as “seven plums.” “Pack up your seven plums and get out.” - -My collection, of course, contains an abundant supply of such patients’ -dreams, whose analysis leads to childish impressions that are remembered -obscurely or not at all, and that often date back to the first three -years of life. But it is a mistake to draw conclusions from them which -are to apply to the dream in general; we are in every case dealing with -neurotic, particularly with hysterical persons; and the part played by -childhood scenes in these dreams might be conditioned by the nature of -the neurosis, and not by that of the dream. However, I am struck quite -as often in the course of interpreting my own dreams, which I do not do -on account of obvious symptoms of disease, by the fact that I -unsuspectingly come upon a scene of childhood in the latent dream -content, and that a whole series of dreams suddenly falls into line with -conclusions drawn from childish experiences. I have already given -examples of this, and shall give still more upon various occasions. -Perhaps I cannot close the whole chapter more fittingly than by citing -several of my own dreams, in which recent happenings and long-forgotten -experiences of childhood appear together as sources of dreams. - -I. After I have been travelling and have gone to bed hungry and tired, -the great necessities of life begin to assert their claims in sleep, and -I dream as follows: _I go into a kitchen to order some pastry. Here -three women are standing, one of whom is the hostess, and is turning -something in her hand as though she were making dumplings. She answers -that I must wait until she has finished_ (not distinctly as a speech). -_I become impatient and go away insulted. I put on an overcoat; but the -first one which I try is too long. I take it off, and am somewhat -astonished to find that it has fur trimming. A second one has sewn into -it a long strip of cloth with Turkish drawings. A stranger with a long -face and a short pointed beard comes up and prevents me from putting it -on, declaring that it belongs to him. I now show him that it is -embroidered all over in Turkish fashion. He asks, “What business are the -Turkish (drawings, strips of cloth ...) of yours?” But we then become -quite friendly with each other._ - -In the analysis of this dream there occurs to me quite unexpectedly the -novel which I read, that is to say, which I began with the end of the -first volume, when I was perhaps thirteen years old. I have never known -the name of the novel or of its author, but the conclusion remains -vividly in my memory. The hero succumbs to insanity, and continually -calls the names of the three women that have signified the greatest good -and ill fortune for him during life. Pélagie is one of these names. I -still do not know what to make of this name in the analysis. À propos of -the three women there now come to the surface the three Parcæ who spin -the fate of man, and I know that one of the three women, the hostess in -the dream, is the mother who gives life, and who, moreover, as in my -case, gives the first nourishment to the living creature. Love and -hunger meet at the mother’s breast. A young man—so runs an anecdote—who -became a great admirer of womanly beauty, once when the conversation -turned upon a beautiful wet nurse who had nourished him as a child, -expressed himself to the effect that he was sorry that he had not taken -better advantage of his opportunity at the time. I am in the habit of -using the anecdote to illustrate the factor of subsequence in the -mechanism of psychoneuroses.... One of the Parcæ, then, is rubbing the -palms of her hands together as though she were making dumplings. A -strange occupation for one of the Fates, which is urgently in need of an -explanation! This is now found in another and earlier childhood memory. -When I was six years old, and was receiving my first instructions from -my mother, I was asked to believe that we are made of earth, and that -therefore we must return to earth. But this did not suit me, and I -doubted her teaching. Thereupon my mother rubbed the palms of her hands -together—just as in making dumplings, except that there was no dough -between them—and showed me the blackish scales of epidermis which were -thus rubbed off as a proof that it is earth of which we are made. My -astonishment at this demonstration _ad oculos_ was without limit, and I -acquiesced in the idea which I was later to hear expressed in words: -“Thou owest nature a death.”[BF] Thus the women are really Parcæ whom I -visit in the kitchen, as I have done so often in my childhood years when -I was hungry, and when my mother used to order me to wait until lunch -was ready. And now for the dumplings! At least one of my teachers at the -University, the very one to whom I am indebted for my histological -knowledge (epidermis), might be reminded by the name Knoedl (German, -_Knoedel_ = dumplings) of a person whom he had to prosecute for -committing a plagiarism of his writings. To commit plagiarism, to -appropriate anything one can get, even though it belongs to another, -obviously leads to the second part of the dream, in which I am treated -like a certain overcoat thief, who for a time plied his trade in the -auditoria. I wrote down the expression plagiarism—without any -reason—because it presented itself to me, and now I perceive that it -must belong to the latent dream-content, because it will serve as a -bridge between different parts of the manifest dream-content. The chain -of associations—Pélagie—plagiarism—plagiostomi[BG] (sharks)—fish -bladder—connects the old novel with the affair of Knoedl and with the -overcoats (German, _Überzieher_ = thing drawn over—overcoat or condom), -which obviously refer to an object belonging to the technique of sexual -life.[BH] This, it is true, is a very forced and irrational connection, -but it is nevertheless one which I could not establish in waking life if -it had not been already established by the activity of the dream. -Indeed, as though nothing were sacred for this impulse to force -connections, the beloved name, Bruecke (bridge of words, see above), now -serves to remind me of the institution in which I spent my happiest -hours as a student, quite without any cares (“So you will ever find more -pleasure at the breasts of knowledge without measure”), in the most -complete contrast to the urgent desires which vex me while I dream. And -finally there comes to the surface the recollection of another dear -teacher, whose name again sounds like something to eat (Fleischl—German, -_Fleisch_ = meat—like Knoedl), and of a pathetic scene, in which the -scales of epidermis play a part (mother—hostess), and insanity (the -novel), and a remedy from the Latin kitchen which numbs the sensation of -hunger, to wit, cocaine. - -In this manner I could follow the intricate trains of thought still -further, and could fully explain the part of the dream which is missing -in the analysis; but I must refrain, because the personal sacrifices -which it would require are too great. I shall merely take up one of the -threads, which will serve to lead us directly to the dream thoughts that -lie at the bottom of the confusion. The stranger, with the long face and -pointed beard, who wants to prevent me from putting on the overcoat, has -the features of a tradesman at Spalato, of whom my wife made ample -purchases of Turkish cloths. His name was Popovic̓, a suspicious name, -which, by the way, has given the humorist Stettenheim a chance to make a -significant remark: “He told me his name, and blushingly shook my -hand.”[BI] Moreover, there is the same abuse of names as above with -Pélagie, Knoedl, Bruecke, Fleischl. That such playing with names is -childish nonsense can be asserted without fear of contradiction; if I -indulge in it, this indulgence amounts to an act of retribution, for my -own name has numberless times fallen a victim to such weak-minded -attempts at humour. Goethe once remarked how sensitive a man is about -his name with which, as with his skin, he feels that he has grown up, -whereupon Herder composed the following on his name: - - “Thou who art born of _gods_, of _Goths_, or of _Kot_ (mud)— - Thy _god_like images, too, are dust.” - -I perceive that this digression about the abuse of names was only -intended to prepare for this complaint. But let us stop here.... The -purchase at Spalato reminds me of another one at Cattaro, where I was -too cautious, and missed an opportunity for making some desirable -acquisitions. (Missing an opportunity at the breast of the nurse, see -above.) Another dream thought, occasioned in the dreamer by the -sensation of hunger, is as follows: _One should let nothing which one -can have escape, even if a little wrong is done; no opportunity should -be missed, life is so short, death inevitable._ Owing to the fact that -this also has a sexual significance, and that desire is unwilling to -stop at a wrong, this philosophy of _carpe diem_ must fear the censor -and must hide behind a dream. This now makes articulate counter-thoughts -of all kinds, recollections of a time when spiritual food alone was -sufficient for the dreamer; it suggests repressions of every kind, and -even threats of disgusting sexual punishments. - -II. A second dream requires a longer preliminary statement: - -I have taken a car to the West Station in order to begin a vacation -journey to the Aussee, and I reach the station in time for the train to -Ischl, which leaves earlier. Here I see Count Thun, who is again going -to see the Emperor at Ischl. In spite of the rain, he has come in an -open carriage, has passed out at once through the door for local trains, -and has motioned back the gate-keeper, who does not know him and who -wants to take his ticket, with a little wave of his hand. After the -train to Ischl has left, I am told to leave the platform and go back -into the hot waiting-room; but with difficulty I secure permission to -remain. I pass the time in watching the people who make use of bribes to -secure a compartment; I make up my mind to insist on my rights—that is, -to demand the same privilege. Meanwhile I sing something to myself, -which I afterwards recognise to be the aria from Figaro’s Wedding: - - “If my lord Count wishes to try a dance, - Try a dance, - Let him but say so, - I’ll play him a tune.” - -(Possibly another person would not have recognised the song.) - -During the whole afternoon I have been in an insolent, combative mood; -I have spoken roughly to the waiter and the cabman, I hope without -hurting their feelings; now all kinds of bold and revolutionary -thoughts come into my head, of a kind suited to the words of Figaro -and the comedy of Beaumarchais, which I had seen at the Comédie -Française. The speech about great men who had taken the trouble to be -born; the aristocratic prerogative, which Count Almaviva wants to -apply in the case of Susan; the jokes which our malicious journalists -of the Opposition make upon the name of Count Thun (German, _thun_ = -doing) by calling him Count Do-Nothing. I really do not envy him; he -has now a difficult mission with the Emperor, and I am the real Count -Do-Nothing, for I am taking a vacation. With this, all kinds of -cheerful plans for the vacation. A gentleman now arrives who is known -to me as a representative of the Government at the medical -examinations, and who has won the flattering nickname of “Governmental -bed-fellow” by his activities in this capacity. By insisting on his -official station he secures half of a first-class compartment, and I -hear one guard say to the other: “Where are we going to put the -gentleman with the first-class half-compartment?” A pretty -favouritism; I am paying for a whole first-class compartment. Now I -get a whole compartment for myself, but not in a through coach, so -that there is no toilet at my disposal during the night. My complaints -to the guard are without result; I get even by proposing that at least -there be a hole made in the floor of this compartment for the possible -needs of the travellers. I really awake at a quarter of three in the -morning with a desire to urinate, having had the following dream: - -Crowd of people, meeting of students.... _A certain Count (Thun or -Taafe) is making a speech. Upon being asked to say something about the -Germans, he declares with contemptuous mien that their favourite flower -is Colt’s-foot, and then puts something like a torn leaf, really the -crumpled skeleton of a leaf, into his buttonhole. I make a start, I make -a start then,[BJ] but I am surprised at this idea of mine._ Then more -indistinctly: _It seems as though it were the vestibule (Aula), the -exits are jammed, as though it were necessary to flee. I make my way -through a suite of handsomely furnished rooms, apparently governmental -chambers, with furniture of a colour which is between brown and violet, -and at last I come to a passage where a housekeeper, an elderly, fat -woman (Frauenzimmer), is seated. I try to avoid talking to her, but -apparently she thinks I have a right to pass because she asks whether -she shall accompany me with the lamp. I signify to her to tell her that -she is to remain standing on the stairs, and in this I appear to myself -very clever, for avoiding being watched at last. I am downstairs now, -and I find a narrow, steep way along which I go._ - -Again indistinctly.... _It is as if my second task were to get away out -of the city, as my earlier was to get out of the house. I am riding in a -one-horse carriage, and tell the driver to take me to a railway station. -“I cannot ride with you on the tracks,” I say, after he has made the -objection that I have tired him out. Here it seems as though I had -already driven with him along a course which is ordinarily traversed on -the railroad. The stations are crowded; I consider whether I shall go to -Krems or to Znaim, but I think that the court will be there, and I -decide in favour of Graz or something of the sort. Now I am seated in -the coach, which is something like a street-car, and I have in my -buttonhole a long braided thing, on which are violet-brown violets of -stiff material, which attracts the attention of many people. Here the -scene breaks off._ - -_I am again in front of the railroad station, but I am with a elderly -gentleman. I invent a scheme for remaining unrecognised, but I also see -this plan already carried out. Thinking and experiencing are here, as it -were, the same thing. He pretends to be blind, at least in one eye, and -I hold a male urinal in front of him (which we have had to buy in the -city or did buy), I am thus a sick attendant, and have to give him the -urinal because he is blind. If the conductor sees us in this position, -he must pass us by without drawing attention. At the same time the -attitude of the person mentioned is visually observed._ Then I awake -with a desire to urinate. - -The whole dream seems a sort of phantasy, which takes the dreamer back -to the revolutionary year 1848, the memory of which had been renewed by -the anniversary year 1898, as well as by a little excursion to Wachau, -where I had become acquainted with Emmersdorf, a town which I wrongly -supposed to be the resting-place of the student leader Fischof, to whom -several features of the dream content might refer. The thought -associations then lead me to England, to the house of my brother, who -was accustomed jokingly to tell his wife of “Fifty years ago,” according -to the title of a poem by Lord Tennyson, whereupon the children were in -the habit of correcting: “Fifteen years ago.” This phantasy, however, -which subtilely attaches itself to the thoughts which the sight of the -Count Thun has given rise to, is only like the façade of Italian -churches which is superimposed without being organically connected with -the building behind it; unlike these façades, however, the phantasy is -filled with gaps and confused, and the parts from within break through -at many places. The first situation of the dream is concocted from -several scenes, into which I am able to separate it. The arrogant -attitude of the Count in the dream is copied from a scene at the -Gymnasium which took place in my fifteenth year. We had contrived a -conspiracy against an unpopular and ignorant teacher, the leading spirit -in which was a schoolmate who seems to have taken Henry VIII. of England -as his model. It fell to me to carry out the _coup-d’état_, and a -discussion of the importance of the Danube (German _Donau_) for Austria -(Wachau!) was the occasion upon which matters came to open indignation. -A fellow-conspirator was the only aristocratic schoolmate whom we had—he -was called the “giraffe” on account of his conspicuous longitudinal -development—and he stood just like the Count in the dream, while he was -being reprimanded by the tyrant of the school, the Professor of the -German language. The explanation of the favourite flower and the putting -into the buttonhole of something which again must have been a flower -(which recalls the orchids, which I had brought to a lady friend on the -same day, and besides that the rose of Jericho) prominently recalls the -scene in Shakespeare’s historical plays which opens the civil wars of -the Red and the White Roses; the mention of Henry VIII. has opened the -way to this reminiscence. It is not very far now from roses to red and -white carnations. Meanwhile two little rhymes, the one German, the other -Spanish, insinuate themselves into the analysis: “Roses, tulips, -carnations, all flowers fade,” and “Isabelita, no llores que se -marchitan las flores.” The Spanish is taken from _Figaro_. Here in -Vienna white carnations have become the insignia of the Anti-Semites, -the red ones of the Social Democrats. Behind this is the recollection of -an anti-Semitic challenge during a railway trip in beautiful Saxony -(Anglo-Saxon). The third scene contributing to the formation of the -first situation in the dream takes place in my early student life. There -was a discussion in the German students’ club about the relation of -philosophy to the general sciences. A green youth, full of the -materialistic doctrine, I thrust myself forward and defended a very -one-sided view. Thereupon a sagacious older school-fellow, who has since -shown his capacity for leading men and organising the masses, and who, -moreover, bears a name belonging to the animal kingdom, arose and called -us down thoroughly; he too, he said, had herded swine in his youth, and -had come back repentant to the house of his father. I started up (as in -the dream), became very uncivil, and answered that since I knew he had -herded swine, I was not surprised at the tone of his discourse. (In the -dream I am surprised at my national German sentiment.) There was great -commotion; and the demand came from all sides that I take back what I -had said, but I remained steadfast. The man who had been insulted was -too sensible to take the advice, which was given him, to send a -challenge, and let the matter drop. - -The remaining elements of this scene of the dream are of more remote -origin. What is the meaning of the Count’s proclaiming the colt’s foot? -Here I must consult my train of associations. Colt’s-foot (German: -_Huflattich_)—lattice—lettuce—salad-dog (the dog that grudges others -what he cannot eat himself). Here plenty of opprobrious epithets may be -discerned: Gir-affe (German _Affe_ = monkey, ape), pig, sow, dog; I -might even find means to arrive at donkey, on a detour by way of a name, -and thus again at contempt for an academic teacher. Furthermore I -translate colt’s-foot (_Huflattich_)—I do not know how correctly—by -“pisse-en-lit.” I got this idea from Zola’s _Germinal_, in which -children are ordered to bring salad of this kind. The dog—_chien_—has a -name sounding like the major function (_chier_, as _pisser_ stands for -the minor one). Now we shall soon have before us the indecent in all -three of its categories; for in the same _Germinal_, which has a lot to -do with the future revolution there is described a very peculiar -contest, depending upon the production of gaseous excretions, called -flatus.[BK] And now I must remark how the way to this flatus has been -for a long while preparing, beginning with the flowers, and proceeding -to the Spanish rhyme of Isabelita to Ferdinand and Isabella, and, by way -of Henry VIII., to English history at the time of the expedition of the -Armada against England, after the victorious termination of which the -English struck a medal with the inscription: “_Afflavit_ et dissipati -sunt,” for the storm had scattered the Spanish fleet. I had thought of -taking this phrase for the title of a chapter on “Therapeutics”—to be -meant half jokingly—if I should ever have occasion to give a detailed -account of my conception and treatment of hysteria. - -I cannot give such a detailed solution of the second scene of the dream, -out of regard for the censor. For at this point I put myself in the -place of a certain eminent gentleman of that revolutionary period, who -also had an adventure with an eagle, who is said to have suffered from -incontinence of the bowels, and the like; and I believe I _should not be -justified at this point in passing_ the censor, although it was an aulic -councillor (_aula_, _consilarius aulicus_) who told me the greater part -of these stories. The allusion to the suite of rooms in the dream -relates to the private car of his Excellency, into which I had -opportunity to look for a moment; but it signifies, as so often in -dreams, a woman (Frauenzimmer; German _Zimmer_—room is appended to -_Frauen_—woman, in order to imply a slight amount of contempt).[BL] In -the person of the housekeeper I give scant recognition to an intelligent -elderly lady for the entertainment and the many good stories which I -have enjoyed at her house.... The feature of the lamp goes back to -Grillparzer, who notes a charming experience of a similar nature, which -he afterwards made use of in “Hero and Leander” (the billows of the -ocean and of love—the Armada and the storm).[BM] - -I must also forgo detailed analysis of the two remaining portions of the -dream; I shall select only those elements which lead to two childhood -scenes, for the sake of which alone I have taken up the dream. The -reader will guess that it is sexual matter which forces me to this -suppression; but he need not be content with this explanation. Many -things which must be treated as secrets in the presence of others are -not treated as such with one’s self, and here it is not a question of -considerations inducing me to hide the solution, but of motives of the -inner censor concealing the real content of the dream from myself. I may -say, then, that the analysis shows these three portions of the dream to -be impertinent boasting, the exuberance of an absurd grandiose idea -which has long since been suppressed in my waking life, which, however, -dares show itself in the manifest dream content by one or two -projections (_I seem clever to myself_), and which makes the arrogant -mood of the evening before the dream perfectly intelligible. It is -boasting, indeed, in all departments; thus the mention of Graz refers to -the phrase: What is the price of Graz? which we are fond of using when -we feel over-supplied with money. Whoever will recall Master Rabelais’s -unexcelled description of the “Life and Deeds of Gargantua and his Son -Pantagruel,” will be able to supply the boastful content intimated in -the first portion of the dream. The following belongs to the two -childhood scenes which have been promised. I had bought a new trunk for -this journey, whose colour, a brownish violet, appears in the dream -several times. (Violet-brown violets made of stiff material, next to a -thing which is called “girl-catcher”—the furniture in the governmental -chambers). That something new attracts people’s attention is a -well-known belief of children. Now I have been told the following story -of my childhood; I remember hearing the story rather than the occurrence -itself. I am told that at the age of two I still occasionally wetted my -bed, that I was often reproached on this subject, and that I consoled my -father by promising to buy him a beautiful new red bed in N. (the -nearest large city). (Hence the detail inserted in the dream that _we -bought the urinal in the city or had to buy it_; one must keep one’s -promises. Attention is further called to the identity of the male urinal -and the feminine trunk, box). All the megalomania of the child is -contained in this promise. The significance of the dream of difficulty -in urinating in the case of the child has been already considered in the -interpretation of an earlier dream (_cf._ the dream on p. 145). - -Now there was another domestic occurrence, when I was seven or eight -years old, which I remember very well. One evening, before going to bed -I had disregarded the dictates of discretion not to satisfy my wants in -the bedroom of my parents and in their presence, and in his reprimand -for this delinquency my father made the remark: “That boy will never -amount to anything.” It must have terribly mortified my ambition, for -allusions to this scene return again and again in my dreams, and are -regularly coupled with enumerations of my accomplishments and successes, -as though I wanted to say: “You see, I have amounted to something after -all.” Now this childhood scene furnishes the elements for the last image -of the dream, in which of course, the rôles are interchanged for the -sake of revenge. The elderly man, obviously my father, for the blindness -in one eye signifies his glaucoma[BN] on one side is now urinating -before me as I once urinated before him. In glaucoma I refer to cocaine, -which stood my father in good stead in his operation, as though I had -thereby fulfilled my promises. Besides that I make sport of him; since -he is blind I must hold the urinal in front of him, and I gloat over -allusions to my discoveries in the theory of hysteria, of which I am so -proud.[BO] - -If the two childhood scenes of urinating are otherwise closely connected -with the desire for greatness, their rehabilitation on the trip to the -Aussee was further favoured by the accidental circumstance that my -compartment had no water-closet, and that I had to expect embarrassment -on the ride as actually happened in the morning. I awoke with the -sensation of a bodily need. I suppose one might be inclined to credit -these sensations with being the actual stimulus of the dream; I should, -however, prefer a different conception—namely, that it was the dream -thoughts which gave rise to the desire to urinate. It is quite unusual -for me to be disturbed in sleep by any need, at least at the time of -this awakening, a quarter of four in the morning. I may forestall -further objection by remarking that I have hardly ever felt a desire to -urinate after awakening early on other journeys made under more -comfortable circumstances. Moreover, I can leave this point undecided -without hurting my argument. - -Since I have learned, further, from experience in dream analysis that -there always remain important trains of thought proceeding from dreams -whose interpretation at first seems complete (because the sources of the -dream and the actuation of the wish are easily demonstrable), trains of -thought reaching back into earliest childhood, I have been forced to ask -myself whether this feature does not constitute an essential condition -of dreaming. If I were to generalise this thesis, a connection with what -has been recently experienced would form a part of the manifest content -of every dream and a connection with what has been most remotely -experienced, of its latent content; and I can actually show in the -analysis of hysteria that in a true sense these remote experiences have -remained recent up to the present time. But this conjecture seems still -very difficult to prove; I shall probably have to return to the part -played by the earliest childhood experiences, in another connection -(Chapter VII.). - -Of the three peculiarities of dream memory considered at the beginning, -one—the preference for the unimportant in the dream content—has been -satisfactorily explained by tracing it back to dream disfigurement. We -have been able to establish the existence of the other two—the selection -of recent and of infantile material—but we have found it impossible to -explain them by the motive of dream. Let us keep in mind these two -characteristics, which still remain to be explained or evaluated; a -place for them will have to be found elsewhere, either in the psychology -of the sleeping state, or in the discussion of the structure of the -psychic apparatus which we shall undertake later, after we have learned -that the inner nature of the apparatus may be observed through dream -interpretation as though through a window. - -Just here I may emphasize another result of the last few dream analyses. -The dream often appears ambiguous; not only may several -wish-fulfilments, as the examples show, be united in it, but one meaning -or one wish-fulfilment may also conceal another, until at the bottom one -comes upon the fulfilment of a wish from the earliest period of -childhood; and here too, it may be questioned whether “often” in this -sentence may not more correctly be replaced by “regularly.” - - - (_c_) _Somatic Sources of Dreams_ - -If the attempt be made to interest the cultured layman in the problems -of dreaming, and if, with this end in view, he be asked the question -from what source dreams originate according to his opinion, it is -generally found that the person thus interrogated thinks himself in -assured possession of a part of the solution. He immediately thinks of -the influence which a disturbed or impeded digestion (“Dreams come from -the stomach”), accidental bodily position, and little occurrences during -sleep, exercise upon the formation of dreams, and he seems not to -suspect that even after the consideration of all these factors there -still remains something unexplained. - -We have explained at length in the introductory chapter (p. 16), what a -rôle in the formation of dreams the scientific literature credits to the -account of somatic exciting sources, so that we need here only recall -the results of this investigation. We have seen that three kinds of -somatic exciting sources are distinguished, objective sensory stimuli -which proceed from external objects, the inner states of excitation of -the sensory organs having only a subjective basis, and the bodily -stimuli which originate internally; and we have noticed the inclination -on the part of the authors to force the psychic sources of the dream -into the background or to disregard them altogether in favour of these -somatic sources of stimulation (p. 32). - -In testing the claims which are made on behalf of these classes of -somatic sources of stimulation, we have discovered that the significance -of the objective stimuli of the sensory organs—whether accidental -stimuli during sleep or those stimuli which cannot be excluded from our -dormant psychic life—has been definitely established by numerous -observations and is confirmed by experiments (p. 18); we have seen that -the part played by subjective sensory stimuli appears to be demonstrated -by the return of hypnogogic sensory images in dreams, and that although -the referring of these dream images and ideas, in the broadest sense, to -internal bodily stimulation is not demonstrable in every detail, it can -be supported by the well-known influence which an exciting state of the -digestive, urinary, and sexual organs exercise upon the contents of our -dreams. - -“Nerve stimulus” and “bodily stimulus,” then, would be the somatic -sources of the dream—that is, the only sources whatever of the dream, -according to several authors. - -But we have already found a number of doubts, which seem to attack not -so much the correctness of the somatic theory of stimulation as its -adequacy. - -However certain all the representatives of this theory may have felt -about the actual facts on which it is based—especially in case of the -accidental and external nerve stimuli, which may be recognised in the -content of the dream without any trouble—nevertheless none of them has -been able to avoid the admission that the abundant ideal content of -dreams does not admit of explanation by external nerve-stimuli alone. -Miss Mary Whiton Calkins[12] has tested her own dreams and those of -another person for a period of six weeks with this idea in mind, and has -found only from 13·2 per cent. to 6·7 per cent. in which the element of -external sensory perception was demonstrable; only two cases in the -collection could be referred to organic sensations. Statistics here -confirm what a hasty glance at our own experience might have led us to -suspect. - -The decision has been made repeatedly to distinguish the “dream of nerve -stimulus” from the other forms of the dream as a well-established -sub-species. Spitta[64] divided dreams into dreams of nerve stimulus and -association dreams. But the solution clearly remained unsatisfactory as -long as the link between the somatic sources of dreams and their ideal -content could not be demonstrated. - -Besides the first objection, of the inadequate frequency of external -exciting sources, there arises as a second objection the inadequate -explanation of dreams offered by the introduction of this sort of dream -sources. The representatives of the theory accordingly must explain two -things, in the first place, why the external stimulus in the dream is -never recognised according to its real nature, but is regularly mistaken -for something else (_cf._ the alarm-clock dreams, p. 22), and secondly, -why the reaction of the receiving mind to this misrecognised stimulus -should result so indeterminately and changefully. As an answer to these -questions, we have heard from Strümpell[66] that the mind, as a result -of its being turned away from the outer world during sleep, is not -capable of giving correct interpretation to the objective sensory -stimulus, but is forced to form illusions on the basis of the indefinite -incitements from many directions. As expressed in his own words (p. -108): - -“As soon as a sensation, a sensational complex, a feeling, or a psychic -process in general, arises in the mind during sleep from an outer or -inner nerve-stimulus, and is perceived by the mind, this process calls -up sensory images, that is to say, earlier perceptions, either -unembellished or with the psychic values belonging to them, from the -range of waking experiences, of which the mind has remained in -possession. It seems to collect about itself, as it were, a greater or -less number of such images, from which the impression which originates -from the nerve-stimulus receives its psychic value. It is usually said -here, as the idiom does of waking thought, that the mind _interprets_ -impressions of nerve-stimuli in sleep. The result of this interpretation -is the so-called nerve-stimulus dream—that is to say, a dream whose -composition is conditioned by the fact that a nerve-stimulus brings -about its effect in psychic life according to the laws of reproduction.” - -The opinion of Wundt[76] agrees in all essentials with this theory. He -says that the ideas in the dream are probably the result, for the most -part, of sensory stimuli, especially of those of general sensation, and -are therefore mostly phantastic illusions—probably memory presentations -which are only partly pure, and which have been raised to -hallucinations. Strümpell has found an excellent simile (p. 84). It is -as “if the ten fingers of a person ignorant of music should stray over -the keyboard of an instrument”—to illustrate the relation between dream -content and dream stimuli, which follows from this theory. The -implication is that the dream does not appear as a psychic phenomenon, -originating from psychic motives, but as the result of a physiological -stimulus, which is expressed in psychic symptomology, because the -apparatus which is affected by the stimulus is not capable of any other -expression. Upon a similar assumption is based, for example, the -explanation of compulsive ideas which Meynert tried to give by means of -the famous simile of the dial on which individual figures are prominent -because they are in more marked relief. - -However popular this theory of somatic dream stimuli may have become, -and however seductive it may seem, it is nevertheless easy to show the -weak point in it. Every somatic dream stimulus which provokes the -psychic apparatus to interpretation through the formation of illusions, -is capable of giving rise to an incalculable number of such attempts at -interpretation; it can thus attain representation in the dream content -by means of an extraordinary number of different ideas. But the theory -of Strümpell and Wundt is incapable of instancing any motive which has -control over the relation between the external stimulus and the dream -idea which has been selected to interpret it, and therefore of -explaining the “peculiar choice” which the stimuli “often enough make in -the course of their reproductive activity” (Lipps, _Grundtatsachen des -Seelenlebens_, p. 170). Other objections may be directed against the -fundamental assumption of the whole theory of illusions—the assumption -that during sleep the mind is not in a condition to recognise the real -nature of the objective sensory stimuli. The old physiologist Burdach[8] -proves to us that the mind is quite capable even during sleep of -interpreting correctly the sensory impressions which reach it, and of -reacting in accordance with the correct interpretation. He establishes -this by showing that it is possible to exempt certain impressions which -seem important to the individuals, from the neglect of sleeping (nurse -and child), and that one is more surely awakened by one’s own name than -by an indifferent auditory impression, all of which presupposes, of -course, that the mind distinguishes among sensations, even in sleep -(Chapter I., p. 41). Burdach infers from these observations that it is -not an incapability of interpreting sensory stimuli in the sleeping -state which must be assumed, but a lack of interest in them. The same -arguments which Burdach used in 1830, later reappear unchanged in the -works of Lipps in the year 1883, where they are employed for the purpose -of attacking the theory of somatic stimuli. According to this the mind -seems to be like the sleeper in the anecdote, who, upon being asked, -“Are you asleep?” answers “No,” and upon being again addressed with the -words, “Then lend me ten florins,” takes refuge in the excuse: “I am -asleep.” - -The inadequacy of the theory of somatic dream stimuli may also be -demonstrated in another manner. Observations show that I am not urged to -dream by external stimulations, even if these stimulations appear in the -dream as soon as, and in case that, I dream. In response to the tactile -or pressure stimulus which I get while sleeping, various reactions are -at my disposal. I can overlook it and discover only upon awakening that -my leg has been uncovered or my arm under pressure; pathology shows the -most numerous examples where powerfully acting sensory and motor stimuli -of different sorts remain without effect during sleep. I can perceive a -sensation during sleep through and through sleep, as it were, which -happens as a rule with painful stimuli, but without weaving the pain -into the texture of the dream; thirdly, I can awaken on account of the -stimulus in order to obviate it. Only as a fourth possible reaction, I -may be impelled to dream by a nerve stimulus; but the other -possibilities are realised at least as often as that of dream formation. -This could not be the case if the _motive for dreaming did not lie -outside of the somatic sources of dreams_. - -Taking proper account of the defect in the explanation of dreams by -somatic stimuli which has just been shown, other authors—Scherner,[58] -who was joined by the philosopher Volkelt[72]—have tried to determine -more exactly the psychic activities which cause the variegated dream -images to arise from the somatic stimuli, and have thus transferred the -essential nature of dreams back to the province of the mind, and to that -of psychic activity. Scherner not only gave a poetically appreciative, -glowing and vivid description of the psychic peculiarities which develop -in the course of dream formation; he also thought he had guessed the -principle according to which the mind proceeds with the stimuli that are -at its disposal. The dream activity, according to Scherner—after -phantasy has been freed from the shackles imposed upon it during the -day, and has been given free rein—strives to represent symbolically the -nature of the organ from which the stimulus proceeds. Thus we have a -kind of dream-book as a guide for the interpretation of dreams, by means -of which bodily sensations, the conditions of the organs and of the -stimuli may be inferred from dream images. “Thus the image of a cat -expresses an angry discontented mood, the image of a light-coloured bit -of smooth pastry the nudity of the body. The human body as a whole is -pictured as a house by the phantasy of the dream, and each individual -organ of the body as a part of the house. In ‘toothache-dreams’ a high -vaulted vestibule corresponds to the mouth and a stair to the descent of -the gullet to the alimentary canal; in the ‘headache-dream’ the ceiling -of a room which is covered with disgusting reptile-like spiders is -chosen to denote the upper part of the head” (Volkelt, p. 39). “Several -different symbols are used by the dream for the same organ, thus the -breathing lungs find their symbol in an oven filled with flames and with -a roaring draught, the heart in hollow chests and baskets, and the -bladder in round, bag-shaped objects or anything else hollow. It is -especially important that at the end of a dream the stimulating organ or -its function be represented undisguised and usually on the dreamer’s own -body. Thus the ‘toothache-dream’ usually ends by the dreamer drawing a -tooth from his own mouth” (p. 35). It cannot be said that this theory -has found much favour with the authors. Above all, it seems extravagant; -there has been no inclination even to discover the small amount of -justification to which it may, in my opinion, lay claim. As may be seen, -it leads to a revival of the dream interpretation by means of symbolism, -which the ancients used, except that the source from which the -interpretation is to be taken is limited to the human body. The lack of -a technique of interpretation which is scientifically comprehensible -must seriously limit the applicability of Scherner’s theory. -Arbitrariness in dream interpretation seems in no wise excluded, -especially since a stimulus may be expressed by several representations -in the content of the dream; thus Scherner’s associate, Volkelt, has -already found it impossible to confirm the representation of the body as -a house. Another objection is that here again dream activity is -attributed to the mind as a useless and aimless activity, since -according to the theory in question the mind is content with forming -phantasies about the stimulus with which it is concerned, without even -remotely contemplating anything like a discharge of the stimulus. - -But Scherner’s theory of the symbolisation of bodily stimuli by the -dream receives a heavy blow from another objection. These bodily stimuli -are present at all times, and according to general assumption the mind -is more accessible to them during sleep than in waking. It is thus -incomprehensible why the mind does not dream continually throughout the -night, and why it does not dream every night and about all the organs. -If one attempts to avoid this objection by making the condition that -especial stimuli must proceed from the eye, the ear, the teeth, the -intestines in order to arouse dream activity, one is confronted by the -difficulty of proving that this increase of stimulation is objective, -which is possible only in a small number of cases. If the dream of -flying is a symbolisation of the upward and downward motion of the -pulmonary lobes, either this dream, as has already been remarked by -Strümpell, would be dreamt much oftener, or an accentuation of the -function of breathing during the dream would have to be demonstrable. -Still another case is possible—the most probable of all—that now and -then special motives directing attention to the visceral sensations -which are universally present are active, but this case takes us beyond -the range of Scherner’s theory. - -The value of Scherner’s and Volkelt’s discussions lies in the fact that -they call attention to a number of characteristics of the dream content -which are in need of explanation, and which seem to promise new -knowledge. It is quite true that symbolisations of organs of the body -and of their functions are contained in dreams, that water in a dream -often signifies a desire to urinate, that the male genital may often be -represented by a staff standing erect or by a pillar, &c. In dreams -which show a very animated field of vision and brilliant colours, in -contrast to the dimness of other dreams, the interpretation may hardly -be dismissed that they are “dreams of visual stimulation,” any more than -it may be disputed that there is a contribution of illusory formations -in dreams which contain noise and confusion of voices. A dream like that -of Scherner, of two rows of fair handsome boys standing opposite to each -other on a bridge, attacking each other and then taking their places -again, until finally the dreamer himself sits down on the bridge and -pulls a long tooth out of his jaw; or a similar one of Volkelt’s, in -which two rows of drawers play a part, and which again ends in the -extraction of a tooth; dream formations of this sort, which are related -in great numbers by the authors, prevent our discarding Scherner’s -theory as an idle fabrication without seeking to find its kernel of -truth. We are now confronted by the task of giving the supposed -symbolisation of the dental stimulus an explanation of a different kind. - -Throughout our consideration of the theory of the somatic sources of -dreams, I have refrained from urging the argument which is inferred from -our dream analyses. If we have succeeded in proving, by a procedure -which other authors have not applied in their investigation of dreams, -that the dream as a psychic action possesses value peculiar to itself, -that a wish supplies the motive for its formation, and that the -experiences of the previous day furnish the immediate material for its -content, any other theory of dreams neglecting such an important method -of investigation, and accordingly causing the dream to appear a useless -and problematic psychic reaction to somatic stimuli, is dismissible -without any particular comment. Otherwise there must be—which is highly -improbable—two entirely different kinds of dreams, of which only one has -come under our observation, while only the other has been observed by -the earlier connoisseurs of the dream. It still remains to provide a -place for the facts which are used to support the prevailing theory of -somatic dream-stimuli, within our own theory of dreams. - -We have already taken the first step in this direction in setting up the -thesis that the dream activity is under a compulsion to elaborate all -the dream stimuli which are simultaneously present into a unified whole -(p. 151). We have seen that when two or more experiences capable of -making an impression have been left over from the previous day, the -wishes which result from them are united into one dream; similarly, that -an impression possessing psychic value and the indifferent experiences -of the previous day are united in the dream material, provided there are -available connecting ideas between the two. Thus the dream appears to be -a reaction to everything which is simultaneously present as actual in -the sleeping mind. As far as we have hitherto analysed the dream -material, we have discovered it to be a collection of psychic remnants -and memory traces, which we were obliged to credit (on account of the -preference shown for recent and infantile material) with a character of -actuality, though the nature of this was not at the time determinable. -Now it will not be difficult to foretell what will happen when new -material in the form of sensations is added to these actualities of -memory. These stimuli likewise derive importance for the dream because -they are actual; they are united with the other psychic actualities in -order to make up the material for dream formation. To express it -differently, the stimuli which appear during sleep are worked over into -the fulfilment of a wish, the other component parts of which are the -remnants of daily experience with which we are familiar. This union, -however, is not inevitable; we have heard that more than one sort of -attitude towards bodily stimuli is possible during sleep. Wherever this -union has been brought about, it has simply been possible to find for -the dream content that kind of presentation material which will give -representation to both classes of dream sources, the somatic as well as -the psychic. - -The essential nature of the dream is not changed by this addition of -somatic material to the psychic sources of the dream; it remains the -fulfilment of a wish without reference to the way in which its -expression is determined by the actual material. - -I shall gladly find room here for a number of peculiarities, which serve -to put a different face on the significance of external stimuli for the -dream. I imagine that a co-operation of individual, physiological, and -accidental factors, conditioned by momentary circumstances, determines -how one will act in each particular case of intensive objective -stimulation during sleep; the degree of the profoundness of sleep -whether habitual or accidental in connection with the intensity of the -stimulus, will in one case make it possible to suppress the stimulus, so -that it will not disturb sleep; in another case they will force an -awakening or will support the attempt to overcome the stimulus by -weaving it into the texture of the dream. In correspondence with the -multiplicity of these combinations, external objective stimuli will -receive expression more frequently in the case of one person than in -that of another. In the case of myself, who am an excellent sleeper, and -who stubbornly resists any kind of disturbance in sleep, this -intermixture of external causes of irritation into my dreams is very -rare, while psychic motives apparently cause me to dream very easily. I -have indeed noted only a single dream in which an objective, painful -source of stimulation is demonstrable, and it will be highly instructive -to see what effect the external stimulus had in this very dream. - -_I am riding on a grey horse, at first timidly and awkwardly, as though -I were only leaning against something. I meet a colleague P., who is -mounted on a horse and is wearing a heavy woollen suit; he calls my -attention to something (probably to the fact that my riding position is -bad). Now I become more and more expert on the horse, which is most -intelligent; I sit comfortably, and I notice that I am already quite at -home in the saddle. For a saddle I have a kind of padding, which -completely fills the space between the neck and the rump of the horse. -In this manner I ride with difficulty between two lumber-wagons. After -having ridden up the street for some distance, I turn around and want to -dismount, at first in front of a little open chapel, which is situated -close to the street. Then I actually dismount in front of a chapel which -stands near the first; the hotel is in the same street, I could let the -horse go there by itself, but I prefer to lead it there. It seems as if -I should be ashamed to arrive there on horseback. In front of the hotel -is standing a hall-boy who shows me a card of mine which has been found, -and who ridicules me on account of it. On the card is written, doubly -underlined, “Eat nothing,” and then a second sentence (indistinct) -something like “Do not work”; at the same time a hazy idea that I am in -a strange city, in which I do no work._ - -It will not be apparent at once that this dream originated under the -influence, or rather under the compulsion, of a stimulus of pain. The -day before I had suffered from furuncles, which made every movement a -torture, and at last a furuncle had grown to the size of an apple at the -root of the scrotum, and had caused me the most intolerable pains that -accompanied every step; a feverish lassitude, lack of appetite, and the -hard work to which I had nevertheless kept myself during the day, had -conspired with the pain to make me lose my temper. I was not altogether -in a condition to discharge my duties as a physician, but in view of the -nature and the location of the malady, one might have expected some -performance other than riding, for which I was very especially unfitted. -It is this very activity, of riding into which I am plunged by the -dream; it is the most energetic denial of the suffering which is capable -of being conceived. In the first place, I do not know how to ride, I do -not usually dream of it, and I never sat on a horse but once—without a -saddle—and then I did not feel comfortable. But in this dream I ride as -though I had no furuncle on the perineum, and why? _just because I don’t -want any_. According to the description my saddle is the poultice which -has made it possible for me to go to sleep. Probably I did not feel -anything of my pain—as I was thus taken care of—during the first few -hours of sleeping. Then the painful sensations announced themselves and -tried to wake me up, whereupon the dream came and said soothingly: “Keep -on sleeping, you won’t wake up anyway! You have no furuncle at all, for -you are riding on a horse, and with a furuncle where you have it riding -is impossible!” And the dream was successful; the pain was stifled, and -I went on sleeping. - -But the dream was not satisfied with “suggesting away” the furuncle by -means of tenaciously adhering to an idea incompatible with that of the -malady, in doing which it behaved like the hallucinatory insanity of the -mother who has lost her child, or like the merchant who has been -deprived of his fortune by losses.[BP] In addition the details of the -denied sensation and of the image which is used to displace it are -employed by the dream as a means to connect the material ordinarily -actually present in the mind with the dream situation, and to give this -material representation. I am riding on a _grey_ horse—the colour of the -horse corresponds exactly to the _pepper-and-salt_ costume in which I -last met my colleague P. in the country. I have been warned that highly -seasoned food is the cause of furunculosis, but in any case it is -preferable as an etiological explanation to sugar which ordinarily -suggests furunculosis. My friend P. has been pleased to “ride the high -horse” with regard to me, ever since he superseded me in the treatment -of a female patient, with whom I had performed great feats (in the dream -I first sit on the horse side-saddle fashion, like a circus rider), but -who really led me wherever she wished, like the horse in the anecdote -about the Sunday equestrian. Thus the horse came to be a symbolic -representation of a lady patient (in the dream it is most intelligent). -“I feel quite at home up here,” refers to the position which I occupied -in the patient’s household until I was replaced by my colleague P. “I -thought you were securely seated in the saddle,” one of my few -well-wishers among the great physicians of this city recently said to me -with reference to the same household. And it was a feat to practise -psychotherapy for ten hours a day with such pains, but I know that I -cannot continue my particularly difficult work for any length of time -without complete physical health, and the dream is full of gloomy -allusions to the situation which must in that case result (the card such -as neurasthenics have and present to doctors): _No work and no food_. -With further interpretation I see that the dream activity has succeeded -in finding the way from the wish-situation of riding to very early -infantile scenes of quarrelling, which must have taken place between me -and my nephew, who is now living in England, and who, moreover, is a -year older than I. Besides it has taken up elements from my journeys to -Italy; the street in the dream is composed of impressions of Verona and -Siena. Still more exhaustive interpretation leads to sexual -dream-thoughts, and I recall what significance dream allusions to that -beautiful country had in the case of a female patient who had never been -in Italy (Itlay—German _gen Italien_—_Genitalien_—genitals). At the same -time there are references to the house in which I was physician before -my friend P., and to the place where the furuncle is located. - -Among the dreams mentioned in the previous chapter there are several -which might serve as examples for the elaboration of so-called nerve -stimuli. The dream about drinking in full draughts is one of this sort; -the somatic excitement in it seems to be the only source of the dream, -and the wish resulting from the sensation—thirst—the only motive for -dreaming. Something similar is true of the other simple dreams, if the -somatic excitement alone is capable of forming a wish. The dream of the -sick woman who throws the cooling apparatus from her cheek at night is -an instance of a peculiar way of reacting to painful excitements with a -wish-fulfilment; it seems as though the patient had temporarily -succeeded in making herself analgesic by ascribing her pains to a -stranger. - -My dream about the three Parcæ is obviously a dream of hunger, but it -has found means to refer the need for food back to the longing of the -child for its mother’s breast, and to make the harmless desire a cloak -for a more serious one, which is not permitted to express itself so -openly. In the dream about Count Thun we have seen how an accidental -bodily desire is brought into connection with the strongest, and -likewise the most strongly suppressed emotions of the psychic life. And -when the First Consul incorporates the sound of an exploding bomb into a -dream of battle before it causes him to wake, as in the case reported by -Garnier, the purpose for which psychic activity generally concerns -itself with sensations occurring during sleep is revealed with -extraordinary clearness. A young lawyer, who has been deeply preoccupied -with his first great bankruptcy proceeding, and who goes to sleep during -the afternoon following, acts just like the great Napoleon. He dreams -about a certain G. Reich in _Hussiatyn_ (German _husten_—to cough), whom -he knows in connection with the bankruptcy proceeding, but _Hussiatyn_ -forces itself upon his attention still further, with the result that he -is obliged to awaken, and hears his wife—who is suffering from bronchial -catarrh—coughing violently. - -Let us compare the dream of Napoleon I., who, incidentally, was an -excellent sleeper, with that of the sleepy student, who was awakened by -his landlady with the admonition that he must go to the hospital, who -thereupon dreams himself into a bed in the hospital, and then sleeps on, -with the following account of his motives: If I am already in the -hospital, I shan’t have to get up in order to go there. The latter is -obviously a dream of convenience; the sleeper frankly admits to himself -the motive for his dreaming; but he thereby reveals one of the secrets -of dreaming in general. In a certain sense all dreams are dreams of -convenience; they serve the purpose of continuing sleep instead of -awakening. _The dream is the guardian of sleep, not the disturber of -it._ We shall justify this conception with respect to the psychic -factors of awakening elsewhere; it is possible, however, at this point -to prove its applicability to the influence exerted by objective -external excitements. Either the mind does not concern itself at all -with the causes of sensations, if it is able to do this in spite of -their intensity and of their significance, which is well understood by -it; or it employs the dream to deny these stimuli; or thirdly, if it is -forced to recognise the stimulus, it seeks to find that interpretation -of the stimulus which shall represent the actual sensation as a -component part of a situation which is desired and which is compatible -with sleep. The actual sensation is woven into the dream _in order to -deprive it of its reality_. Napoleon is permitted to go on sleeping; it -is only a dream recollection of the thunder of the cannon at Arcole -which is trying to disturb him.[BQ] - -_The wish to sleep, by which the conscious ego has been suspended and -which along with the dream-censor contributes its share to the dream, -must thus always be taken into account as a motive for the formation of -dreams, and every successful dream is a fulfilment of this wish._ The -relation of this general, regularly present, and invariable sleep-wish -to the other wishes, of which now the one, now the other is fulfilled, -will be the subject of a further explanation. In the wish to sleep we -have discovered a factor capable of supplying the deficiency in the -theory of Strümpell and Wundt, and of explaining the perversity and -capriciousness in the interpretation of the outer stimulus. The correct -interpretation, of which the sleeping mind is quite capable, would imply -an active interest and would require that sleep be terminated; hence, of -those interpretations which are possible at all, only those are admitted -which are agreeable to the absolute censorship of the somatic wish. It -is something like this: It’s the nightingale and not the lark. For if -it’s the lark, love’s night is at an end. From among the interpretations -of the excitement which are at the moment possible, that one is selected -which can secure the best connection with the wish-possibilities that -are lying in wait in the mind. Thus everything is definitely determined, -and nothing is left to caprice. The misinterpretation is not an -illusion, but—if you will—an excuse. Here again, however, there is -admitted an action which is a modification of the normal psychic -procedure, as in the case where substitution by means of displacement is -effected for the purposes of the dream-censor. - -If the outer nerve stimuli and inner bodily stimuli are sufficiently -intense to compel psychic attention, they represent—that is, in case -they result in dreaming and not in awakening—a definite point in the -formation of dreams, a nucleus in the dream material, for which an -appropriate wish-fulfilment is sought, in a way similar (see above) to -the search for connecting ideas between two dream stimuli. To this -extent it is true for a number of dreams that the somatic determines -what their content is to be. In this extreme case a wish which is not -exactly actual is aroused for the purpose of dream formation. But the -dream can do nothing but represent a wish in a situation as fulfilled; -it is, as it were, confronted by the task of seeking what wish may be -represented and fulfilled by means of the situation which is now actual. -Even if this actual material is of a painful or disagreeable character, -still it is not useless for the purposes of dream formation. The psychic -life has control even over wishes the fulfilment of which brings forth -pleasure—a statement which seems contradictory, but which becomes -intelligible if one takes into account the presence of two psychic -instances and the censor existing between them. - -There are in the psychic life, as we have heard, _repressed_ wishes -which belong to the first system, and to whose fulfilment the second -system is opposed. There are wishes of this kind—and we do not mean this -in an historic sense, that there have been such wishes and that these -have then been destroyed—but the theory of repression, which is -essential to the study of psychoneurosis, asserts that such repressed -wishes still exist, contemporaneously with an inhibition weighing them -down. Language has hit upon the truth when it speaks of the -“suppression” of such impulses. The psychic contrivance for bringing -such wishes to realisation remains preserved and in a condition to be -used. But if it happens that such a suppressed wish is fulfilled, the -vanquished inhibition of the second system (which is capable of becoming -conscious) is then expressed as a painful feeling. To close this -discussion; if sensations of a disagreeable character which originate -from somatic sources are presented during sleep, this constellation is -taken advantage of by the dream activity to represent the -fulfilment—with more or less retention of the censor—of an otherwise -suppressed wish. - -This condition of affairs makes possible a number of anxiety dreams, -while another series of the dream formations which are unfavourable to -the wish theory exhibits a different mechanism. For anxiety in dreams -may be of a psychoneurotic nature, or it may originate in psychosexual -excitements, in which case the anxiety corresponds to a repressed -_libido_. Then this anxiety as well as the whole anxiety dream has the -significance of a neurotic symptom, and we are at the dividing-line -where the wish-fulfilling tendency of dreams disappears. But in other -anxiety-dreams the feeling of anxiety comes from somatic sources (for -instance in the case of persons suffering from pulmonary or heart -trouble, where there is occasional difficulty in getting breath), and -then it is used to aid those energetically suppressed wishes in -attaining fulfilment in the form of a dream, the dreaming of which from -psychic motives would have resulted in the same release of fear. It is -not difficult to unite these two apparently discrepant cases. Of two -psychic formations, an emotional inclination and an ideal content, which -are intimately connected, the one, which is presented as actual, -supports the other in the dream; now anxiety of somatic origin supports -the suppressed presentation content, now the ideal content, which is -freed from suppression, and which proceeds with the impetus given by -sexual emotion, assists the discharge of anxiety. Of the one case it may -be said that an emotion of somatic origin is psychically interpreted; in -the other case everything is of psychic origin but the content which has -been suppressed is easily replaced by a somatic interpretation which is -suited to anxiety. The difficulties which lie in the way of -understanding all this have little to do with the dream; they are due to -the fact that in discussing these points we are touching upon the -problems of the development of anxiety and of repression. - -Undoubtedly the aggregate of bodily feelings is to be included among the -commanding dream stimuli which originate internally. Not that it is able -to furnish the dream content, but it forces the dream thoughts to make a -choice from the material destined to serve the purpose of representation -in the dream content; it does this by putting within easy reach that -part of the material which is suited to its own character, while -withholding the other. Moreover this general feeling, which is left over -from the day, is probably connected with the psychic remnants which are -significant for the dream. - -If somatic sources of excitement occurring during sleep—that is, the -sensations of sleep—are not of unusual intensity, they play a part in -the formation of dreams similar, in my judgment, to that of the -impressions of the day which have remained recent but indifferent. I -mean that they are drawn into the dream formation, if they are qualified -for being united with the presentation content of the psychic -dream-source, but in no other case. They are treated as a cheap -ever-ready material, which is utilised as often as it is needed, instead -of prescribing, as a precious material does, the manner in which it is -to be utilised. The case is similar to that where a patron of art brings -to an artist a rare stone, a fragment of onyx, in order that a work of -art may be made of it. The size of the stone, its colour, and its -marking help to decide what bust or what scene shall be represented in -it, while in the case where there is a uniform and abundant supply of -marble or sandstone the artist follows only the idea which takes shape -in his mind. Only in this manner, it seems to me, is the fact explicable -that the dream content resulting from bodily excitements that have not -been accentuated to a usual degree, does not appear in all dreams and -during every night. - -Perhaps an example, which takes us back to the interpretation of dreams, -will best illustrate my meaning. One day I was trying to understand the -meaning of the sensations of being impeded, of not being able to move -from the spot, of not being able to get finished, &c., which are dreamt -about so often, and which are so closely allied to anxiety. That night I -had the following dream: _I am very incompletely dressed, and I go from -a dwelling on the ground floor up a flight of stairs to an upper story. -In doing this I jump over three steps at a time, and I am glad to find I -can mount the steps so quickly. Suddenly I see that a servant girl is -coming down the stairs, that is, towards me. I am ashamed and try to -hurry away, and now there appears that sensation of being impeded; I am -glued to the steps and cannot move from the spot._ - -Analysis: The situation of the dream is taken from everyday reality. In -a house in Vienna I have two apartments, which are connected only by a -flight of stairs outside. My consultation-rooms and my study are on an -elevated portion of the ground floor, and one story higher are my -living-rooms. When I have finished my work downstairs late at night, I -go up the steps into my bedroom. On the evening before the dream I had -actually gone this short distance in a somewhat disorderly attire—that -is to say, I had taken off my collar, cravat, and cuffs; but in the -dream this has changed into a somewhat more advanced degree of undress, -which as usual is indefinite. Jumping over the steps is my usual method -of mounting stairs; moreover it is the fulfilment of a wish that has -been recognised in the dream, for I have reassured myself about the -condition of my heart action by the ease of this accomplishment. -Moreover the manner in which I climb the stairs is an effective contrast -to the sensation of being impeded which occurs in the second half of the -dream. It shows me—something which needed no proof—that the dream has no -difficulty in representing motor actions as carried out fully and -completely; think of flying in dreams! - -But the stairs which I go up are not those of my house; at first I do -not recognise them; only the person coming toward me reveals to me the -location which they are intended to signify. This woman is the maid of -the old lady whom I visit twice daily to give hypodermic injections; the -stairs, too, are quite similar to those which I must mount there twice -daily. - -How do this flight of stairs and this woman get into my dream? Being -ashamed because one is not fully dressed, is undoubtedly of a sexual -character; the servant of whom I dream is older than I, sulky, and not -in the least attractive. These questions call up exactly the following -occurrences: When I make my morning visit at this house I am usually -seized with a desire to clear my throat; the product of the -expectoration falls upon the steps. For there is no spittoon on either -of these floors, and I take the view that the stairs should not be kept -clean at my expense, but by the provision of a spittoon. The -housekeeper, likewise an elderly and sulky person, with instincts for -cleanliness, takes another view of the matter. She lies in wait for me -to see whether I take the liberty referred to, and when she has made -sure of it, I hear her growl distinctly. For days thereafter she refuses -to show me her customary regard when we meet. On the day before the -dream the position of the housekeeper had been strengthened by the -servant girl. I had just finished my usual hurried visit to the patient -when the servant confronted me in the ante-room and observed: “You might -as well have wiped your shoes to-day, doctor, before you came into the -room. The red carpet is all dirty again from your feet.” This is the -whole claim which the flight of stairs and the servant-girl can make for -appearing in my dream. - -An intimate connection exists between my flying over the stairs and my -spitting on the stairs. Pharyngitis and diseases of the heart are both -said to be punishments for the vice of smoking, on account of which -vice, of course, I do not enjoy a reputation for great neatness with my -housekeeper in the one house any more than in the other, both of which -the dream fuses into a single image. - -I must postpone the further interpretation of this dream until I can -give an account of the origin of the typical dream of incomplete dress. -I only note as a preliminary result from the dream which has just been -cited that the dream sensation of inhibited action is always aroused at -a point where a certain connection requires it. A peculiar condition of -my motility during sleep cannot be the cause of this dream content, for -a moment before I saw myself hurrying over the steps with ease, as -though in confirmation of this fact. - - - (_d_) _Typical Dreams_ - -In general we are not in a position to interpret the dream of another -person if he is unwilling to furnish us with the unconscious thoughts -which lie behind the dream content, and for this reason the practical -applicability of our method of dream interpretation is seriously -curtailed.[BR] But there are a certain number of dreams—in contrast with -the usual freedom displayed by the individual in fashioning his dream -world with characteristic peculiarity, and thereby making it -unintelligible—which almost every one has dreamed in the same manner, -and of which we are accustomed to assume that they have the same -significance in the case of every dreamer. A peculiar interest belongs -to these typical dreams for the reason that they probably all come from -the same sources with every person, that they are thus particularly -suited to give us information upon the sources of dreams. - -Typical dreams are worthy of the most exhaustive investigation. I shall, -however, only give a somewhat detailed consideration to examples of this -species, and for this purpose I shall first select the so-called -embarrassment dream of nakedness, and the dream of the death of dear -relatives. - -The dream of being naked or scantily clad in the presence of strangers -occurs with the further addition that one is not at all ashamed of it, -&c. But the dream of nakedness is worthy of our interest only when shame -and embarrassment are felt in it, when one wishes to flee or to hide, -and when one feels the strange inhibition that it is impossible to move -from the spot and that one is incapable of altering the disagreeable -situation. It is only in this connection that the dream is typical; the -nucleus of its content may otherwise be brought into all kinds of -relations or may be replaced by individual amplifications. It is -essentially a question of a disagreeable sensation of the nature of -shame, the wish to be able to hide one’s nakedness, chiefly by means of -locomotion, without being able to accomplish this. I believe that the -great majority of my readers will at some time have found themselves in -this situation in a dream. - -Usually the nature and manner of the experience is indistinct. It is -usually reported, “I was in my shirt,” but this is rarely a clear image; -in most cases the lack of clothing is so indeterminate that it is -designated in the report of the dream by a set of alternatives: “I was -in my chemise or in my petticoat.” As a rule the deficiency in the -toilet is not serious enough to justify the feeling of shame attached to -it. For a person who has served in the army, nakedness is often replaced -by a mode of adjustment that is contrary to regulations. “I am on the -street without my sabre and I see officers coming,” or “I am without my -necktie,” or “I am wearing checkered civilian’s trousers,” &c. - -The persons before whom one is ashamed are almost always strangers with -faces that have been left undetermined. It never occurs in the typical -dream that one is reproved or even noticed on account of the dress which -causes the embarrassment to one’s self. Quite on the contrary, the -people have an air of indifference, or, as I had opportunity to observe -in a particularly clear dream, they look stiffly solemn. This is worth -thinking about. - -The shamed embarrassment of the dreamer and the indifference of the -spectators form a contradiction which often occurs in the dream. It -would better accord with the feelings of the dreamer if the strangers -looked at him in astonishment and laughed at him, or if they grew -indignant. I think, however, that the latter unpleasant feature has been -obviated by the tendency to wish-fulfilment, while the embarrassment, -being retained on some account or other, has been left standing, and -thus the two parts fail to agree. We have interesting evidence to show -that the dream, whose appearance has been partially disfigured by the -tendency to wish-fulfilment, has not been properly understood. For it -has become the basis of a fairy tale familiar to us all in Andersen’s -version,[BS] and it has recently received poetic treatment by L. Fulda -in the _Talisman_. In Andersen’s fairy tale we are told of two impostors -who weave a costly garment for the Emperor, which, however, shall be -visible only to the good and true. The Emperor goes forth clad in this -invisible garment, and, the fabric serving as a sort of touchstone, all -the people are frightened into acting as though they did not notice the -nakedness of the Emperor. - -But such is the situation in our dream. It does not require great -boldness to assume that the unintelligible dream content has suggested -the invention of a state of undress in which the situation that is being -remembered becomes significant. This situation has then been deprived of -its original meaning, and placed at the service of other purposes. But -we shall see that such misunderstanding of the dream content often -occurs on account of the conscious activity of the second psychic -system, and is to be recognised as a factor in the ultimate formation of -the dream; furthermore, that in the development of the obsessions and -phobias similar misunderstandings, likewise within the same psychic -personality, play a leading part. The source from which in our dream the -material for this transformation is taken can also be explained. The -impostor is the dream, the Emperor is the dreamer himself, and the -moralising tendency betrays a hazy knowledge of the fact that the latent -dream content is occupied with forbidden wishes which have become the -victims of repression. The connection in which such dreams appear during -my analysis of neurotics leaves no room for doubting that the dream is -based upon a recollection from earliest childhood. Only in our childhood -was there a time when we were seen by our relatives as well as by -strange nurses, servant girls, and visitors, in scanty clothing, and at -that time we were not ashamed of our nakedness.[BT] - -It may be observed in the case of children who are a little older that -being undressed has a kind of intoxicating effect upon them, instead of -making them ashamed. They laugh, jump about, and strike their bodies; -the mother, or whoever is present, forbids them to do this, and says: -“Fie, that is shameful—you mustn’t do that.” Children often show -exhibitional cravings; it is hardly possible to go through a village in -our part of the country without meeting a two or three-year-old tot who -lifts up his or her shirt before the traveller, perhaps in his honour. -One of my patients has reserved in his conscious memory a scene from the -eighth year of his life in which he had just undressed previous to going -to bed, and was about to dance into the room of his little sister in his -undershirt when the servant prevented his doing it. In the childhood -history of neurotics, denudation in the presence of children of the -opposite sex plays a great part; in paranoia the desire to be observed -while dressing and undressing may be directly traced to these -experiences; among those remaining perverted there is a class which has -accentuated the childish impulse to a compulsion—they are the -exhibitionists. - -This age of childhood in which the sense of shame is lacking seems to -our later recollections a Paradise, and Paradise itself is nothing but a -composite phantasy from the childhood of the individual. It is for this -reason, too, that in Paradise human beings are naked and are not ashamed -until the moment arrives when the sense of shame and of fear are -aroused; expulsion follows, and sexual life and cultural development -begin. Into this Paradise the dream can take us back every night; we -have already ventured the conjecture that the impressions from earliest -childhood (from the prehistoric period until about the end of the fourth -year) in themselves, and independently of everything else, crave -reproduction, perhaps without further reference to their content, and -that the repetition of them is the fulfilment of a wish. Dreams of -nakedness, then, are exhibition dreams.[BU] - -One’s own person, which is seen not as that of a child, but as belonging -to the present, and the idea of scanty clothing, which became buried -beneath so many later _négligée_ recollections or because of the censor, -turns out to be obscure—these two things constitute the nucleus of the -exhibition dream. Next come the persons before whom one is ashamed. I -know of no example where the actual spectators at those infantile -exhibitions reappear in the dream. For the dream is hardly ever a simple -recollection. Strangely enough, those persons who are the objects of our -sexual interest during childhood are omitted from all the reproductions -of the dream, of hysteria, and of the compulsion neurosis; paranoia -alone puts the spectators back into their places, and is fanatically -convinced of their presence, although they remain invisible. What the -dream substitutes for these, the “many strange people,” who take no -notice of the spectacle which is presented, is exactly the wish-opposite -of that single, intimate person for whom the exposure was intended. -“Many strange people,” moreover, are often found in the dream in any -other favourable connection; as a wish-opposite they always signify “a -secret.”[BV] It may be seen how the restoration of the old condition of -affairs, as it occurs in paranoia, is subject to this antithesis. One is -no longer alone. One is certainly being watched, but the spectators are -“many strange, curiously indeterminate people.” - -Furthermore, repression has a place in the exhibition dream. For the -disagreeable sensation of the dream is the reaction of the second -psychic instance to the fact that the exhibition scene which has been -rejected by it has in spite of this succeeded in securing -representation. The only way to avoid this sensation would be not to -revive the scene. - -Later on we shall again deal with the sensation of being inhibited. It -serves the dream excellently in representing the conflict of the will, -the negation. According to our unconscious purpose exhibition is to be -continued; according to the demands of the censor, it is to be stopped. - -The relation of our typical dreams to fairy tales and to other poetic -material is neither a sporadic nor an accidental one. Occasionally the -keen insight of a poet has analytically recognised the transforming -process—of which the poet is usually the tool—and has followed it -backwards, that is to say, traced it to the dream. A friend has called -my attention to the following passage in G. Keller’s _Der Grüne -Heinrich_: “I do not wish, dear Lee, that you should ever come to -realise from experience the peculiar piquant truth contained in the -situation of Odysseus, when he appears before Nausikaa and her -playmates, naked and covered with mud! Would you like to know what it -means? Let us consider the incident closely. If you are ever separated -from your home, and from everything that is dear to you, and wander -about in a strange country, when you have seen and experienced much, -when you have cares and sorrows, and are, perhaps, even miserable and -forlorn, you will some night inevitably dream that you are approaching -your home; you will see it shining and beaming in the most beautiful -colours; charming, delicate and lovely figures will come to meet you; -and you will suddenly discover that you are going about in rags, naked -and covered with dust. A nameless feeling of shame and fear seizes you, -you try to cover yourself and to hide, and you awaken bathed in sweat. -As long as men exist, this will be the dream of the care-laden, -fortune-battered man, and thus Homer has taken his situation from the -profoundest depths of the eternal character of humanity.” - -This profound and eternal character of humanity, upon the touching of -which in his listeners the poet usually calculates, is made up of the -stirrings of the spirit which are rooted in childhood, in the period -which later becomes prehistoric. Suppressed and forbidden wishes of -childhood break forth under cover of those wishes of the homeless man -which are unobjectionable and capable of becoming conscious, and for -that reason the dream which is made objective in the legend of Nausikaa -regularly assumes the form of a dream of anxiety. - -My own dream, mentioned on p. 201, of hurrying up the stairs, which is -soon afterward changed into that of being glued to the steps, is -likewise an exhibition dream, because it shows the essential components -of such a dream. It must thus permit of being referred to childish -experiences, and the possession of these ought to tell us how far the -behaviour of the servant girl towards me—her reproach that I had soiled -the carpet—helped her to secure the position which she occupies in the -dream. I am now able to furnish the desired explanation. One learns in -psychoanalysis to interpret temporal proximity by objective connection; -two thoughts, apparently without connection, which immediately follow -one another, belong to a unity which can be inferred; just as an _a_ and -a _t_, which I write down together, should be pronounced as one -syllable, _at_. The same is true of the relation of dreams to one -another. The dream just cited, of the stairs, has been taken from a -series of dreams, whose other members I am familiar with on account of -having interpreted them. The dream which is included in this series must -belong to the same connection. Now the other dreams of the series are -based upon the recollection of a nurse to whom I was entrusted from some -time in the period when I was suckling to the age of two and a half -years, and of whom a hazy recollection has remained in my consciousness. -According to information which I have recently obtained from my mother, -she was old and ugly, but very intelligent and thorough; according to -inferences which I may draw from my dreams, she did not always give me -the kindest treatment, and said hard words to me when I showed -insufficient aptitude for education in cleanliness. Thus by attempting -to continue this educational work the servant girl develops a claim to -be treated by me, in the dream, as an incarnation of the prehistoric old -woman. It is to be assumed that the child bestowed his love upon this -governess in spite of her bad treatment of him.[BW] - -Another series of dreams which might be called typical are those which -have the content that a dear relative, parent, brother, or sister, child -or the like, has died. Two classes of these dreams must immediately be -distinguished—those in which the dreamer remains unaffected by sorrow -while dreaming, and those in which he feels profound grief on account of -the death, in which he even expresses this grief during sleep by fervid -tears. - -We may ignore the dreams of the first group; they have no claim to be -reckoned as typical. If they are analysed, it is found that they signify -something else than what they contain, that they are intended to cover -up some other wish. Thus it is with the dream of the aunt who sees the -only son of her sister lying on a bier before her (p 129). This does not -signify that she wishes the death of her little nephew; it only -conceals, as we have learned, a wish to see a beloved person once more -after long separation—the same person whom she had seen again after a -similar long intermission at the funeral of another nephew. This wish, -which is the real content of the dream, gives no cause for sorrow, and -for that reason no sorrow is felt in the dream. It may be seen in this -case that the emotion which is contained in the dream does not belong to -the manifest content of the dream, but to the latent one, and that the -emotional content has remained free from the disfigurement which has -befallen the presentation content. - -It is a different story with the dreams in which the death of a beloved -relative is imagined and where sorrowful emotion is felt. These signify, -as their content says, the wish that the person in question may die, and -as I may here expect that the feelings of all readers and of all persons -who have dreamt anything similar will object to my interpretation, I -must strive to present my proof on the broadest possible basis. - -We have already had one example to show that the wishes represented in -the dream as fulfilled are not always actual wishes. They may also be -dead, discarded, covered, and repressed wishes, which we must -nevertheless credit with a sort of continuous existence on account of -their reappearance in the dream. They are not dead like persons who have -died in our sense, but they resemble the shades in the _Odyssey_ which -awaken a certain kind of life as soon as they have drunk blood. In the -dream of the dead child in the box (p. 130) we were concerned with a -wish that had been actual fifteen years before, and which had been -frankly admitted from that time. It is, perhaps, not unimportant from -the point of view of dream theory if I add that a recollection from -earliest childhood is at the basis even of this dream. While the dreamer -was a little child—it cannot be definitely determined at what time—she -had heard that during pregnancy of which she was the fruit her mother -had fallen into a profound depression of spirits and had passionately -wished for the death of her child before birth. Having grown up herself -and become pregnant, she now follows the example of her mother. - -If some one dreams with expressions of grief that his father or mother, -his brother or sister, has died, I shall not use the dream as a proof -that he wishes them dead _now_. The theory of the dreams does not -require so much; it is satisfied with concluding that the dreamer has -wished them dead—at some one time in childhood. I fear, however, that -this limitation will not contribute much to quiet the objectors; they -might just as energetically contest the possibility that they have ever -had such thoughts as they are sure that they do not cherish such wishes -at present. I must, therefore, reconstruct a part of the submerged -infantile psychology on the basis of the testimony which the present -still furnishes.[BX] - -Let us at first consider the relation of children to their brothers and -sisters. I do not know why we presuppose that it must be a loving one, -since examples of brotherly and sisterly enmity among adults force -themselves upon every one’s experience, and since we so often know that -this estrangement originated even during childhood or has always -existed. But many grown-up people, who to-day are tenderly attached to -their brothers and sisters and stand by them, have lived with them -during childhood in almost uninterrupted hostility. The older child has -ill-treated the younger, slandered it, and deprived it of its toys; the -younger has been consumed by helpless fury against the elder, has envied -it and feared it, or its first impulse toward liberty and first feelings -of injustice have been directed against the oppressor. The parents say -that the children do not agree, and cannot find the reason for it. It is -not difficult to see that the character even of a well-behaved child is -not what we wish to find in a grown-up person. The child is absolutely -egotistical; it feels its wants acutely and strives remorselessly to -satisfy them, especially with its competitors, other children, and in -the first instance with its brothers and sisters. For doing this we do -not call the child wicked—we call it naughty; it is not responsible for -its evil deeds either in our judgment or in the eyes of the penal law. -And this is justifiably so; for we may expect that within this very -period of life which we call childhood, altruistic impulses and morality -will come to life in the little egotist, and that, in the words of -Meynert, a secondary ego will overlay and restrain the primary one. It -is true that morality does not develop simultaneously in all -departments, and furthermore, the duration of the unmoral period of -childhood is of different length in different individuals. In cases -where the development of this morality fails to appear, we are pleased -to talk about “degeneration”; they are obviously cases of arrested -development. Where the primary character has already been covered up by -later development, it may be at least partially uncovered again by an -attack of hysteria. The correspondence between the so-called hysterical -character and that of a naughty child is strikingly evident. A -compulsion neurosis, on the other hand, corresponds to a super-morality, -imposed upon the primary character that is again asserting itself, as an -increased check. - -Many persons, then, who love their brothers and sisters, and who would -feel bereaved by their decease, have evil wishes towards them from -earlier times in their unconscious wishes, which are capable of being -realised in the dream. It is particularly interesting to observe little -children up to three years old in their attitude towards their brothers -and sisters. So far the child has been the only one; he is now informed -that the stork has brought a new child. The younger surveys the arrival, -and then expresses his opinion decidedly: “The stork had better take it -back again.”[BY] - -I subscribe in all seriousness to the opinion that the child knows -enough to calculate the disadvantage it has to expect on account of the -new-comer. I know in the case of a lady of my acquaintance who agrees -very well with a sister four years younger than herself, that she -responded to the news of her younger sister’s arrival with the following -words: “But I shan’t give her my red cap, anyway.” If the child comes to -this realisation only at a later time, its enmity will be aroused at -that point. I know of a case where a girl, not yet three years old, -tried to strangle a suckling in the cradle, because its continued -presence, she suspected, boded her no good. Children are capable of envy -at this time of life in all its intensity and distinctness. Again, -perhaps, the little brother or sister has really soon disappeared; the -child has again drawn the entire affection of the household to itself, -and then a new child is sent by the stork; is it then unnatural for the -favourite to wish that the new competitor may have the same fate as the -earlier one, in order that he may be treated as well as he was before -during the interval? Of course this attitude of the child towards the -younger infant is under normal circumstances a simple function of the -difference of age. After a certain time the maternal instincts of the -girl will be excited towards the helpless new-born child. - -Feelings of enmity towards brothers and sisters must occur far more -frequently during the age of childhood than is noted by the dull -observation of adults. - -In case of my own children, who followed one another rapidly, I missed -the opportunity to make such observations; I am now retrieving it -through my little nephew, whose complete domination was disturbed after -fifteen months by the arrival of a female competitor. I hear, it is -true, that the young man acts very chivalrously towards his little -sister, that he kisses her hand and pets her; but in spite of this I -have convinced myself that even before the completion of his second year -he is using his new facility in language to criticise this person who -seems superfluous to him. Whenever the conversation turns upon her, he -chimes in and cries angrily: “Too (l)ittle, too (l)ittle.” During the -last few months, since the child has outgrown this unfavourable -criticism, owing to its splendid development, he has found another way -of justifying his insistence that she does not deserve so much -attention. On all suitable occasions he reminds us, “She hasn’t any -teeth.”[BZ] We have all preserved the recollection of the eldest -daughter of another sister of mine—how the child which was at that time -six years old sought assurance from one aunt after another for an hour -and a half with the question: “Lucy can’t understand that yet, can she?” -Lucy was the competitor, two and a half years younger. - -I have never failed in any of my female patients to find this dream of -the death of brothers and sisters denoting exaggerated hostility. I have -met with only one exception, which could easily be reinterpreted into a -confirmation of the rule. Once in the course of a sitting while I was -explaining this condition of affairs to a lady, as it seemed to have a -bearing upon the symptoms under consideration, she answered, to my -astonishment, that she had never had such dreams. However, she thought -of another dream which supposedly had nothing to do with the matter—a -dream which she had first dreamed at the age of four, when she was the -youngest child, and had since dreamed repeatedly. “A great number of -children, all of them the dreamer’s brothers and sisters, and male and -female cousins, were romping about in a meadow. Suddenly they all got -wings, flew up, and were gone.” She had no idea of the significance of -the dream; but it will not be difficult for us to recognise it as a -dream of the death of all the brothers and sisters, in its original -form, and little influenced by the censor. I venture to insert the -following interpretation: At the death of one out of a large number of -children—in this case the children of two brothers were brought up in -common as brothers and sisters—is it not probable that our dreamer, at -that time not yet four years old, asked a wise, grown-up person: “What -becomes of children when they are dead?” The answer probably was: “They -get wings and become angels.” According to this explanation all the -brothers and sisters and cousins in the dream now have wings like angels -and—this is the important thing—they fly away. Our little angel-maker -remains alone, think of it, the only one after such a multitude! The -feature that the children are romping about on a meadow points with -little ambiguity to butterflies, as though the child had been led by the -same association which induced the ancients to conceive Psyche as having -the wings of a butterfly. - -Perhaps some one will now object that, although the inimical impulses of -children towards their brothers and sisters may well enough be admitted, -how does the childish disposition arrive at such a height of wickedness -as to wish death to a competitor or stronger playmate, as though all -transgressions could be atoned for only by the death-punishment? Whoever -talks in this manner forgets that the childish idea of “being dead” has -little else but the words in common with our own. The child knows -nothing of the horrors of decay, of shivering in the cold grave, of the -terror of the infinite Nothing, which the grown-up person, as all the -myths concerning the Great Beyond testify, finds it so hard to bear in -his conception. Fear of death is strange to the child; therefore it -plays with the horrible word and threatens another child: “If you do -that again you will die, as Francis died,” whereat the poor mother -shudders, for perhaps she cannot forget that the great majority of -mortals do not succeed in living beyond the years of childhood. It is -still possible, even for a child eight years old, on returning from a -museum of natural history, to say to its mother: “Mamma, I love you so; -if you ever die, I am going to have you stuffed and set you up here in -the room so I can always, always see you!” So little does the childish -conception of being dead resemble our own.[CA] - -Being dead means for the child, which has been spared the scenes of -suffering previous to dying, the same as “being gone,” not disturbing -the survivors any more. The child does not distinguish the manner and -means by which this absence is brought about, whether by travelling, -estrangement, or death. If, during the prehistoric years of a child, a -nurse has been sent away and its mother has died a short while after, -the two experiences, as is revealed by analysis, overlap in his memory. -The fact that the child does not miss very intensely those who are -absent has been realised by many a mother to her sorrow, after she has -returned home after a summer journey of several weeks, and has been told -upon inquiry: “The children have not asked for their mother a single -time.” But if she really goes to that “undiscovered country from whose -bourn no traveller returns,” the children seem at first to have -forgotten her, and begin only _subsequently_ to remember the dead -mother. - -If, then, the child has motives for wishing the absence of another -child, every restraint is lacking which would prevent it from clothing -this wish in the form that the child may die, and the psychic reaction -to the dream of wishing death proves that, in spite of all the -differences in content, the wish in the case of the child is somehow or -other the same as it is with adults. - -If now the death-wish of the child towards its brothers and sisters has -been explained by the childish egotism, which causes the child to regard -its brothers and sisters as competitors, how may we account for the same -wish towards parents, who bestow love on the child and satisfy its -wants, and whose preservation it ought to desire from these very -egotistical motives? - -In the solution of this difficulty we are aided by the experience that -dreams of the death of parents predominantly refer to that member of the -parental couple which shares the sex of the dreamer, so that the man -mostly dreams of the death of his father, the woman of the death of her -mother. I cannot claim that this happens regularly, but the -predominating occurrence of this dream in the manner indicated is so -evident that it must be explained through some factor that is -universally operative. To express the matter boldly, it is as though a -sexual preference becomes active at an early period, as though the boy -regards his father as a rival in love, and as though the girl takes the -same attitude toward her mother—a rival by getting rid of whom he or she -cannot but profit. - -Before rejecting this idea as monstrous, let the reader consider the -actual relations between parents and children. What the requirements of -culture and piety demand of this relation must be distinguished from -what daily observation shows us to be the fact. More than one cause for -hostile feeling is concealed within the relations between parents and -children; the conditions necessary for the actuation of wishes which -cannot exist in the presence of the censor are most abundantly provided. -Let us dwell at first upon the relation between father and son. I -believe that the sanctity which we have ascribed to the injunction of -the decalogue dulls our perception of reality. Perhaps we hardly dare to -notice that the greater part of humanity neglects to obey the fifth -commandment. In the lowest as well as in the highest strata of human -society, piety towards parents is in the habit of receding before other -interests. The obscure reports which have come to us in mythology and -legend from the primeval ages of human society give us an unpleasant -idea of the power of the father and the ruthlessness with which it was -used. Kronos devours his children, as the wild boar devours the brood of -the sow; Zeus emasculates his father[CB] and takes his place as a ruler. -The more despotically the father ruled in the ancient family, the more -must the son have taken the position of an enemy, and the greater must -have been his impatience, as designated successor, to obtain the mastery -himself after his father’s death. Even in our own middle-class family -the father is accustomed to aid the development of the germ of hatred -which naturally belongs to the paternal relation by refusing the son the -disposal of his own destiny, or the means necessary for this. A -physician often has occasion to notice that the son’s grief at the loss -of his father cannot suppress his satisfaction at the liberty which he -has at last obtained. Every father frantically holds on to whatever of -the sadly antiquated _potestas patris_ still remains in the society of -to-day, and every poet who, like Ibsen, puts the ancient strife between -father and son in the foreground of his fiction is sure of his effect. -The causes of conflict between mother and daughter arise when the -daughter grows up and finds a guardian in her mother, while she desires -sexual freedom, and when, on the other hand, the mother has been warned -by the budding beauty of her daughter that the time has come for her to -renounce sexual claims. - -All these conditions are notorious and open to everyone’s inspection. -But they do not serve to explain dreams of the death of parents found in -the case of persons to whom piety towards their parents has long since -come to be inviolable. We are furthermore prepared by the preceding -discussion to find that the death-wish towards parents is to be -explained by reference to earliest childhood. - -This conjecture is reaffirmed with a certainty that makes doubt -impossible in its application to psychoneurotics through the analyses -that have been undertaken with them. It is here found that the sexual -wishes of the child—in so far as they deserve this designation in their -embryonic state—awaken at a very early period, and that the first -inclinations of the girl are directed towards the father, and the first -childish cravings of the boy towards the mother. The father thus becomes -an annoying competitor for the boy, as the mother does for the girl, and -we have already shown in the case of brothers and sisters how little it -takes for this feeling to lead the child to the death-wish. Sexual -selection, as a rule, early becomes evident in the parents; it is a -natural tendency for the father to indulge the little daughter, and for -the mother to take the part of the sons, while both work earnestly for -the education of the little ones when the magic of sex does not -prejudice their judgment. The child is very well aware of any -partiality, and resists that member of the parental couple who -discourages it. To find love in a grown-up person is for the child not -only the satisfaction of a particular craving, but also means that the -child’s will is to be yielded to in other respects. Thus the child obeys -its own sexual impulse, and at the same time re-enforces the feeling -which proceeds from the parents, if it makes a selection among the -parents that corresponds to theirs. - -Most of the signs of these infantile inclinations are usually -overlooked; some of them may be observed even after the first years of -childhood. An eight-year-old girl of my acquaintance, when her mother is -called from the table, takes advantage of the opportunity to proclaim -herself her successor. “Now I shall be Mamma; Charles, do you want some -more vegetables? Have some, I beg you,” &c. A particularly gifted and -vivacious girl, not yet four years old, with whom this bit of child -psychology is unusually transparent, says outright: “Now mother can go -away; then father must marry me and I shall be his wife.” Nor does this -wish by any means exclude from child life the possibility that the child -may love his mother affectionately. If the little boy is allowed to -sleep at his mother’s side whenever his father goes on a journey, and if -after his father’s return he must go back to the nursery to a person -whom he likes far less, the wish may be easily actuated that his father -may always be absent, in order that he may keep his place next to his -dear, beautiful mamma; and the father’s death is obviously a means for -the attainment of this wish; for the child’s experience has taught him -that “dead” folks, like grandpa, for example, are always absent; they -never return. - -Although observations upon little children lend themselves, without -being forced, to the proposed interpretation, they do not carry the full -conviction which psychoanalyses of adult neurotics obtrude upon the -physician. The dreams in question are here cited with introductions of -such a nature that their interpretation as wish-dreams becomes -unavoidable. One day I find a lady sad and weeping. She says: “I do not -want to see my relatives any more; they must shudder at me.” Thereupon, -almost without any transition, she tells that she remembers a dream, -whose significance, of course, she does not know. She dreamed it four -years before, and it is as follows: _A fox or a lynx is taking a walk on -the roof; then something falls down, or she falls down, and after that -her mother is carried out of the house dead_—whereat the dreamer cries -bitterly. No sooner had I informed her that this dream must signify a -wish from her childhood to see her mother dead, and that it is because -of this dream that she thinks that her relatives must shudder at her, -than she furnished some material for explaining the dream. “Lynx-eye” is -an opprobrious epithet which a street boy once bestowed on her when she -was a very small child; when she was three years old a brick had fallen -on her mother’s head so that she bled severely. - -I once had opportunity to make a thorough study of a young girl who -underwent several psychic states. In the state of frenzied excitement -with which the illness started, the patient showed a very strong -aversion to her mother; she struck and scolded her as soon as she -approached the bed, while at the same time she remained loving and -obedient to a much older sister. Then there followed a clear but -somewhat apathetic state with very much disturbed sleep. It was in this -phase that I began to treat her and to analyse her dreams. An enormous -number of these dealt in a more or less abstruse manner with the death -of the mother; now she was present at the funeral of an old woman, now -she saw her sisters sitting at the table dressed in mourning; the -meaning of the dreams could not be doubted. During the further progress -of the convalescence hysterical phobias appeared; the most torturing of -these was the idea that something happened to her mother. She was always -having to hurry home from wherever she happened to be in order to -convince herself that her mother was still alive. Now this case, in view -of my other experiences, was very instructive; it showed in polyglot -translations, as it were, the different ways in which the psychic -apparatus reacts to the same exciting idea. In the state of excitement -which I conceive as the overpowering of the second psychic instance, the -unconscious enmity towards the mother became potent as a motor impulse; -then, after calmness set in, following the suppression of the tumult, -and after the domination of the censor had been restored, this feeling -of enmity had access only to the province of dreams in order to realise -the wish that the mother might die; and after the normal condition had -been still further strengthened, it created the excessive concern for -the mother as a hysterical counter-reaction and manifestation of -defence. In the light of these considerations it is no longer -inexplicable why hysterical girls are so often extravagantly attached to -their mothers. - -On another occasion I had opportunity to get a profound insight into the -unconscious psychic life of a young man for whom a compulsion-neurosis -made life almost unendurable, so that he could not go on the street, -because he was harassed by the obsession that he would kill every one he -met. He spent his days in arranging evidence for an alibi in case he -should be charged with any murder that might have occurred in the city. -It is superfluous to remark that this man was as moral as he was highly -cultured. The analysis—which, moreover, led to a cure—discovered -murderous impulses toward the young man’s somewhat over-strict father as -the basis of these disagreeable ideas of compulsion—impulses which, to -his great surprise, had received conscious expression when he was seven -years old, but which, of course, had originated in much earlier years of -childhood. After the painful illness and death of the father, the -obsessive reproach transferred to strangers in the form of the -afore-mentioned phobia, appeared when the young man was thirty-one years -old. Anyone capable of wishing to push his own father from a -mountain-top into an abyss is certainly not to be trusted to spare the -lives of those who are not so closely bound to him; he does well to lock -himself into his room. - -According to my experience, which is now large, parents play a leading -part in the infantile psychology of all later neurotics, and falling in -love with one member of the parental couple and hatred of the other help -to make up that fateful sum of material furnished by the psychic -impulses, which has been formed during the infantile period, and which -is of such great importance for the symptoms appearing in the later -neurosis. But I do not think that psychoneurotics are here sharply -distinguished from normal human beings, in that they are capable of -creating something absolutely new and peculiar to themselves. It is far -more probable, as is shown also by occasional observation upon normal -children, that in their loving or hostile wishes towards their parents -psychoneurotics only show in exaggerated form feelings which are present -less distinctly and less intensely in the minds of most children. -Antiquity has furnished us with legendary material to confirm this fact, -and the deep and universal effectiveness of these legends can only be -explained by granting a similar universal applicability to the -above-mentioned assumption in infantile psychology. - -I refer to the legend of King Oedipus and the drama of the same name by -Sophocles. Oedipus, the son of Laius, king of Thebes, and of Jocasta, is -exposed while a suckling, because an oracle has informed the father that -his son, who is still unborn, will be his murderer. He is rescued, and -grows up as the king’s son at a foreign court, until, being uncertain -about his origin, he also consults the oracle, and is advised to avoid -his native place, for he is destined to become the murderer of his -father and the husband of his mother. On the road leading away from his -supposed home he meets King Laius and strikes him dead in a sudden -quarrel. Then he comes to the gates of Thebes, where he solves the -riddle of the Sphynx who is barring the way, and he is elected king by -the Thebans in gratitude, and is presented with the hand of Jocasta. He -reigns in peace and honour for a long time, and begets two sons and two -daughters upon his unknown mother, until at last a plague breaks out -which causes the Thebans to consult the oracle anew. Here Sophocles’ -tragedy begins. The messengers bring the advice that the plague will -stop as soon as the murderer of Laius is driven from the country. But -where is he hidden? - -“Where are they to be found? How shall we trace the perpetrators of so -old a crime where no conjecture leads to discovery?”[CC] - -The action of the play now consists merely in a revelation, which is -gradually completed and artfully delayed—resembling the work of a -psychoanalysis—of the fact that Oedipus himself is the murderer of -Laius, and the son of the dead man and of Jocasta. Oedipus, profoundly -shocked at the monstrosities which he has unknowingly committed, blinds -himself and leaves his native place. The oracle has been fulfilled. - -The _Oedipus Tyrannus_ is a so-called tragedy of fate; its tragic effect -is said to be found in the opposition between the powerful will of the -gods and the vain resistance of the human beings who are threatened with -destruction; resignation to the will of God and confession of one’s own -helplessness is the lesson which the deeply-moved spectator is to learn -from the tragedy. Consequently modern authors have tried to obtain a -similar tragic effect by embodying the same opposition in a story of -their own invention. But spectators have sat unmoved while a curse or an -oracular sentence has been fulfilled on blameless human beings in spite -of all their struggles; later tragedies of fate have all remained -without effect. - -If the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ is capable of moving modern men no less than -it moved the contemporary Greeks, the explanation of this fact cannot -lie merely in the assumption that the effect of the Greek tragedy is -based upon the opposition between fate and human will, but is to be -sought in the peculiar nature of the material by which the opposition is -shown. There must be a voice within us which is prepared to recognise -the compelling power of fate in _Oedipus_, while we justly condemn the -situations occurring in _Die Ahnfrau_ or in other tragedies of later -date as arbitrary inventions. And there must be a factor corresponding -to this inner voice in the story of King Oedipus. His fate moves us only -for the reason that it might have been ours, for the oracle has put the -same curse upon us before our birth as upon him. Perhaps we are all -destined to direct our first sexual impulses towards our mothers, and -our first hatred and violent washes towards our fathers; our dreams -convince us of it. King Oedipus, who has struck his father Laius dead -and has married his mother Jocasta, is nothing but the realised wish of -our childhood. But more fortunate than he, we have since succeeded, -unless we have become psychoneurotics, in withdrawing our sexual -impulses from our mothers and in forgetting our jealousy of our fathers. -We recoil from the person for whom this primitive wish has been -fulfilled with all the force of the repression which these wishes have -suffered within us. By his analysis, showing us the guilt of Oedipus, -the poet urges us to recognise our own inner self, in which these -impulses, even if suppressed, are still present. The comparison with -which the chorus leaves us— - - “... Behold! this Oedipus, who unravelled the famous riddle and who - was a man of eminent virtue; a man who trusted neither to popularity - nor to the fortune of his citizens; see how great a storm of adversity - hath at last overtaken him” (Act v. sc. 4). - -This warning applies to ourselves and to our pride, to us, who have -grown so wise and so powerful in our own estimation since the years of -our childhood. Like Oedipus, we live in ignorance of the wishes that -offend morality, wishes which nature has forced upon us, and after the -revelation of which we want to avert every glance from the scenes of our -childhood. - -In the very text of Sophocles’ tragedy there is an unmistakable -reference to the fact that the Oedipus legend originates in an extremely -old dream material, which consists of the painful disturbance of the -relation towards one’s parents by means of the first impulses of -sexuality. Jocasta comforts Oedipus—who is not yet enlightened, but who -has become worried on account of the oracle—by mentioning to him the -dream which is dreamt by so many people, though she attaches no -significance to it— - - “For it hath already been the lot of many men in dreams to think - themselves partners of their mother’s bed. But he passes most easily - through life to whom these circumstances are trifles” (Act iv. sc. 3). - -The dream of having sexual intercourse with one’s mother occurred at -that time, as it does to-day, to many people, who tell it with -indignation and astonishment. As may be understood, it is the key to the -tragedy and the complement to the dream of the death of the father. The -story of Oedipus is the reaction of the imagination to these two typical -dreams, and just as the dream when occurring to an adult is experienced -with feelings of resistance, so the legend must contain terror and -self-chastisement. The appearance which it further assumes is the result -of an uncomprehending secondary elaboration which tries to make it serve -theological purposes (_cf._ the dream material of exhibitionism, p. -206). The attempt to reconcile divine omnipotence with human -responsibility must, of course, fail with this material as with every -other.[CD] - -I must not leave the typical dream of the death of dear relatives -without somewhat further elucidating the subject of their significance -for the theory of the dream in general. These dreams show us a -realisation of the very unusual case where the dream thought, which has -been created by the repressed wish, completely escapes the censor, and -is transferred to the dream without alteration. There must be present -peculiar conditions making possible such an outcome. I find -circumstances favourable to these dreams in the two following factors: -First, there is no wish which we believe further from us; we believe -such a wish “would never occur to us in a dream”; the dream censor is -therefore not prepared for this monstrosity, just as the legislation of -Solon was incapable of establishing a punishment for patricide. -Secondly, the repressed and unsuspected wish is in just this case -particularly often met by a fragment of the day’s experience in the -shape of a concern about the life of the beloved person. This concern -cannot be registered in the dream by any other means than by taking -advantage of the wish that has the same content; but it is possible for -the wish to mask itself behind the concern which has been awakened -during the day. If one is inclined to think all this a more simple -process, and that one merely continues during the night and in dreams -what one has been concerned with during the day, the dream of the death -of beloved persons is removed from all connection with dream -explanation, and an easily reducible problem is uselessly retained. - -It is also instructive to trace the relation of these dreams to anxiety -dreams. In the dream of the death of dear persons the repressed wish has -found a way of avoiding the censor, and the distortion which it causes. -In this case the inevitable concomitant manifestation is that -disagreeable sensations are felt in the dream. Thus the dream of fear is -brought about only when the censor is entirely or partially overpowered, -and, on the other hand, the overpowering of the censor is made easier -when fear has already been furnished by somatic sources. Thus it becomes -obvious for what purpose the censor performs its office and practises -dream distortion; it does this _in order to prevent the development of -fear or other forms of disagreeable emotion_. - -I have spoken above of the egotism of the infantile mind, and I may now -resume this subject in order to suggest that dreams preserve this -characteristic—thus showing their connection with infantile life. Every -dream is absolutely egotistical; in every dream the beloved ego appears, -even though it may be in a disguised form. The wishes that are realised -in dreams are regularly the wishes of this ego; it is only a deceptive -appearance if interest in another person is thought to have caused the -dream. I shall subject to analysis several examples which appear to -contradict this assertion. - -I. A boy not yet four years old relates the following: _He saw a large -dish garnished, and upon it a large piece of roast meat, and the meat -was all of a sudden—not cut to pieces—but eaten up. He did not see the -person who ate it._[CE] - -Who may this strange person be of whose luxurious repast this little -fellow dreams? The experiences of the day must give us the explanation -of this. For a few days the boy had been living on a diet of milk -according to the doctor’s prescription; but on the evening of the day -before the dream he had been naughty, and as a punishment he had been -deprived of his evening meal. He had already undergone one such -hunger-cure, and had acted very bravely. He knew that he would get -nothing to eat, but he did not dare to indicate by a word that he was -hungry. Education was beginning to have its influence upon him; this is -expressed even in the dream which shows the beginnings of dream -disfigurement. There is no doubt that he himself is the person whose -wishes are directed toward this abundant meal, and a meal of roast meat -at that. But since he knows that this is forbidden him, he does not -dare, as children do in the dream (_cf._ the dream about strawberries of -my little Anna, p. 110), to sit down to the meal himself. The person -remains anonymous. - -II. Once I dream that I see on the show-table of a book store a new -number in the Book-lovers’ Collection—the collection which I am in the -habit of buying (art monographs, monographs on the history of the world, -famous art centres, &c.). _The new collection is called Famous Orators -(or Orations), and the first number bears the name of Doctor Lecher._ - -In the course of analysis it appears improbable that the fame of Dr. -Lecher, the long-winded orator of the German Opposition, should occupy -my thoughts while I am dreaming. The fact is that, a few days before, I -undertook the psychic cure of some new patients, and was now forced to -talk for from ten to twelve hours a day. Thus I myself am the -long-winded orator. - -III. Upon another occasion I dream that a teacher of my acquaintance at -the university says: _My son, the Myopic_. Then there follows a dialogue -consisting of short speeches and replies. A third portion of the dream -follows in which I and my sons appear, and as far as the latent dream -content is concerned, father, son, and Professor M. are alike only lay -figures to represent me and my eldest son. I shall consider this dream -again further on because of another peculiarity. - -IV. The following dream gives an example of really base egotistical -feelings, which are concealed behind affectionate concern: - -_My friend Otto looks ill, his face is brown and his eyes bulge._ - -Otto is my family physician, to whom I owe a debt greater than I can -ever hope to repay, since he has guarded the health of my children for -years. He has treated them successfully when they were taken sick, and -besides that he has given them presents on all occasions which gave him -any excuse for doing so. He came for a visit on the day of the dream, -and my wife noticed that he looked tired and exhausted. Then comes my -dream at night, and attributes to him a few of the symptoms of Basedow’s -disease. Any one disregarding my rules for dream interpretation would -understand this dream to mean that I am concerned about the health of my -friend, and that this concern is realised in the dream. It would thus be -a contradiction not only of the assertion that the dream is a -wish-fulfilment, but also of the assertion that it is accessible only to -egotistic impulses. But let the person who interprets the dream in this -manner explain to me why I fear that Otto has Basedow’s disease, for -which diagnosis his appearance does not give the slightest -justification? As opposed to this, my analysis furnishes the following -material, taken from an occurrence which happened six years ago. A small -party of us, including Professor R., were driving in profound darkness -through the forest of N., which is several hours distant from our -country home. The coachman, who was not quite sober, threw us and the -wagon down a bank, and it was only by a lucky accident that we all -escaped unhurt. But we were forced to spend the night at the nearest -inn, where the news of our accident awakened great sympathy. A -gentleman, who showed unmistakable signs of the morbus Basedowii—nothing -but a brownish colour of the skin of the face and bulging eyes, no -goitre—placed himself entirely at our disposal and asked what he could -do for us. Professor R. answered in his decided way: “Nothing but lend -me a night-shirt.” Whereupon our generous friend replied: “I am sorry -but I cannot do that,” and went away. - -In continuing the analysis, it occurs to me that Basedow is the name not -only of a physician, but also of a famous educator. (Now that I am awake -I do not feel quite sure of this fact.) My friend Otto is the person -whom I have asked to take charge of the physical education of my -children—especially during the age of puberty (hence the night-shirt)—in -case anything should happen to me. By seeing Otto in the dream with the -morbid symptoms of our above-mentioned generous benefactor, I apparently -mean to say, “If anything happens to me, just as little is to be -expected for my children from him as was to be expected then from Baron -L., in spite of his well-meaning offers.” The egotistical turn of this -dream ought now to be clear.[CF] - -But where is the wish-fulfilment to be found? It is not in the vengeance -secured upon my friend Otto, whose fate it seems to be to receive -ill-treatment in my dreams, but in the following circumstances: In -representing Otto in the dream as Baron L., I have at the same time -identified myself with some one else, that is to say, with Professor R., -for I have asked something of Otto, just as R. asked something of Baron -L. at the time of the occurrence which has been mentioned. And that is -the point. For Professor R. has pursued his way independently outside -the schools, somewhat as I have done, and has only in later years -received the title which he earned long ago. I am therefore again -wishing to be a professor! The very phrase “in later years” is the -fulfilment of wish, for it signifies that I shall live long enough to -pilot my boy through the age of puberty myself. - - -I gave only a brief account of the other forms of typical dreams in the -first edition of this book, because an insufficient amount of good -material was at my disposal. My experience, which has since been -increased, now makes it possible for me to divide these dreams into two -broad classes—first, those which really have the same meaning every -time, and secondly, those which must be subjected to the most widely -different interpretations in spite of their identical or similar -content. Among the typical dreams of the first sort I shall closely -consider the examination dream and the so-called dream of dental -irritation. - -Every one who has received his degree after having passed the final -college examination, complains of the ruthlessness with which he is -pursued by the anxiety dream that he will fail, that he must repeat his -work, &c. For the holder of the university degree this typical dream is -replaced by another, which represents to him that he has to pass the -examination for the doctor’s degree, and against which he vainly raises -the objection in his sleep that he has already been practising for -years—that he is already a university instructor or the head of a law -firm. These are the ineradicable memories of the punishments which we -suffered when we were children for misdeeds which we had -committed—memories which were revived in us on that _dies irae, dies -illa_ of the severe examination at the two critical junctures in our -studies. The “examination-phobia” of neurotics is also strengthened by -this childish fear. After we have ceased to be schoolboys it is no -longer our parents and guardians as at first, or our teachers as later -on, who see to our punishment; the inexorable chain of causes and -effects in life has taken over our further education. Now we dream of -examinations for graduation or for the doctor’s degree—and who has not -been faint-hearted in these tests, even though he belonged to the -righteous?—whenever we fear that an outcome will punish us because we -have not done something, or because we have not accomplished something -as we should—in short whenever we feel the weight of responsibility. - -I owe the actual explanation of examination dreams to a remark made by a -well-informed colleague, who once asserted in a scientific discussion -that in his experience the examination dream occurs only to persons who -have passed the examination, never to those who have gone to pieces on -it. The anxiety dream of the examination, which occurs, as is being more -and more corroborated, when the dreamer is looking forward to a -responsible action on his part the next day and the possibility of -disgrace, has therefore probably selected an occasion in the past where -the great anxiety has shown itself to have been without justification -and has been contradicted by the result. This would be a very striking -example of a misconception of the dream content on the part of the -waking instance. The objection to the dream, which is conceived as the -indignant protest, “But I am already a doctor,” &c., would be in reality -a consolation which the dreams offer, and which would therefore be to -the following effect: “Do not be afraid of the morrow; think of the fear -which you had before the final examination, and yet nothing came of it. -You are a doctor this minute,” &c. The fear, however, which we attribute -to the dream, originates in the remnants of daily experience. - -The tests of this explanation which I was able to make in my own case -and in that of others, although they were not sufficiently numerous, -have been altogether successful. I failed, for example, in the -examination for the doctor’s degree in legal medicine; never once have I -been concerned about this matter in my dreams, while I have often enough -been examined in botany, zoology, or chemistry, in which subjects I took -the examinations with well-founded anxiety, but escaped punishment -through the clemency of fortune or of the examiner. In my dreams of -college examination, I am regularly examined in history, a subject which -I passed brilliantly at the time, but only, I must admit, because my -good-natured professor—my one-eyed benefactor in another dream (_cf._ p. -12)—did not overlook the fact that on the list of questions I had -crossed out the second of three questions as an indication that he -should not insist on it. One of my patients, who withdrew before the -final college examinations and made them up later, but who failed in the -officer’s examination and did not become an officer, tells me that he -dreams about the former examination often enough, but never about the -latter. - -The above-mentioned colleague (Dr. Stekel of Vienna) calls attention to -the double meaning of the word “Matura” (_Matura_—examination for -college degree: mature, ripe), and claims that he has observed that -examination dreams occur very frequently when a sexual test is set for -the following day, in which, therefore, the disgrace which is feared -might consist in the manifestation of slight potency. A German colleague -takes exception to this, as it appears, justly, on the ground that this -examination is denominated in Germany the Abiturium and hence lacks this -double meaning. - -On account of their similar affective impression dreams of missing a -train deserve to be placed next to examination dreams. Their explanation -also justifies this relationship. They are consolation dreams directed -against another feeling of fear perceived in the dream, the fear of -dying. “To depart” is one of the most frequent and one of the most -easily reached symbols of death. The dream thus says consolingly: -“Compose yourself, you are not going to die (to depart),” just as the -examination dream calms us by saying “Fear not, nothing will happen to -you even this time.” The difficulty in understanding both kinds of -dreams is due to the fact that the feeling of anxiety is directly -connected with the expression of consolation. Stekel treats fully the -symbolisms of death in his recently published book _Die Sprache des -Traumes_. - -The meaning of the “dreams of dental irritation,” which I have had to -analyse often enough with my patients, escaped me for a long time, -because, much to my astonishment, resistances that were altogether too -great obstructed their interpretation. - -At last overwhelming evidence convinced me that, in the case of men, -nothing else than cravings for masturbation from the time of puberty -furnishes the motive power for these dreams. I shall analyse two such -dreams, one of which is likewise “a dream of flight.” The two dreams are -of the same person—a young man with a strong homosexuality, which, -however, has been repressed in life. - -_He is witnessing a performance of_ Fidelio _from the parquette of the -opera house; he is sitting next to L., whose personality is congenial to -him, and whose friendship he would like to have. He suddenly flies -diagonally clear across the parquette; he then puts his hand in his -mouth and draws out two of his teeth._ - -He himself describes the flight by saying it was as if he were “thrown” -into the air. As it was a performance of _Fidelio_ he recalls the poet’s -words: - - “He who a charming wife acquired——” - -But even the acquisition of a charming wife is not among the wishes of -the dreamer. Two other verses would be more appropriate: - - _“He who succeeds in the lucky (big) throw, - A friend of a friend to be....”_ - -The dream thus contains the “lucky (big) throw,” which is not, however, -a wish-fulfilment only. It also conceals the painful reflection that in -his striving after friendship he has often had the misfortune to be -“thrown down,” and the fear lest this fate may be repeated in the case -of the young man next whom he has enjoyed the performance of _Fidelio_. -This is now followed by a confession which quite puts this refined -dreamer to shame, to the effect that once, after such a rejection on the -part of a friend, out of burning desire he merged into sexual excitement -and masturbated twice in succession. - -The other dream is as follows: _Two professors of the university who are -known to him are treating him in my stead. One of them does something -with his penis; he fears an operation. The other one thrusts an iron bar -at his mouth so that he loses two teeth. He is bound with four silken -cloths._ - -The sexual significance of this dream can hardly be doubted. The silken -cloths are equivalent to an identification with a homosexual of his -acquaintance. The dreamer, who has never achieved coition, but who has -never actually sought sexual intercourse with men, conceives sexual -intercourse after the model of the masturbation which he was once taught -during the time of puberty. - -I believe that the frequent modifications of the typical dream of dental -irritation—that, for example, of another person drawing the tooth from -the dreamer’s mouth, are made intelligible by means of the same -explanation. It may, however, be difficult to see how “dental -irritation” can come to have this significance. I may then call -attention to a transference from below to above which occurs very -frequently. This transference is at the service of sexual repression, -and by means of it all kinds of sensations and intentions occurring in -hysteria which ought to be enacted in the genitals can be realised upon -less objectionable parts of the body. It is also a case of such -transference when the genitals are replaced by the face in the symbolism -of unconscious thought. This is assisted by the fact that the buttocks -resemble the cheeks, and also by the usage of language which calls the -nymphæ “lips,” as resembling those that enclose the opening of the -mouth. The nose is compared to the penis in numerous allusions, and in -one place as in the other the presence of hair completes the -resemblance. Only one part of the anatomy—the teeth—are beyond all -possibility of being compared with anything, and it is just this -coincidence of agreement and disagreement which makes the teeth suitable -for representation under pressure of sexual repression. - -I do not wish to claim that the interpretation of the dream of dental -irritation as a dream of masturbation, the justification of which I -cannot doubt, has been freed of all obscurity.[CG] I carry the -explanation as far as I am able, and must leave the rest unsolved. But I -must also refer to another connection revealed by an idiomatic -expression. In our country there is in use an indelicate designation for -the act of masturbation, namely: To pull one out, or to pull one -down.[CH] I am unable to say whence these colloquialisms originate, and -on what symbolisms they are based, but the teeth would well fit in with -the first of the two.[CI] - -Dreams in which one is flying or hovering, falling, swimming, or the -like, belong to the second group of typical dreams. What do these dreams -signify? A general statement on this point cannot be made. They signify -something different in each case, as we shall hear: only the sensational -material which they contain always comes from the same source. - -It is necessary to conclude, from the material obtained in -psychoanalysis, that these dreams repeat impressions from childhood—that -is, that they refer to the movement games which have such extraordinary -attractions for the child. What uncle has never made a child fly by -running across the room with it with arms outstretched, or has never -played falling with it by rocking it on his knee and then suddenly -stretching out his leg, or by lifting it up high and then pretending to -withdraw support. At this the children shout with joy, and demand more -untiringly, especially if there is a little fright and dizziness -attached to it; in after years they create a repetition of this in the -dream, but in the dream they omit the hands which have held them, so -that they now freely float and fall. The fondness of all small children -for games like rocking and see-sawing is well known; and if they see -gymnastic tricks at the circus their recollection of this rocking is -refreshed. With some boys the hysterical attack consists simply in the -reproduction of such tricks, which they accomplish with great skill. Not -infrequently sexual sensations are excited by these movement games, -harmless as they are in themselves.[CJ] To express the idea by a word -which is current among us, and which covers all of these matters: It is -the wild playing (“Hetzen”) of childhood which dreams about flying, -falling, vertigo, and the like repeat, and the voluptuous feelings of -which have now been turned into fear. But as every mother knows, the -wild playing of children has often enough culminated in quarrelling and -tears. - -I therefore have good reason for rejecting the explanation that the -condition of our dermal sensations during sleep, the sensations caused -by the movements of the lungs, and the like, give rise to dreams of -flying and falling. I see that these very sensations have been -reproduced from the memory with which the dream is concerned—that they -are, therefore, a part of the dream content and not of the dream -sources. - -This material, similar in its character and origin consisting of -sensations of motion, is now used for the representation of the most -manifold dream thoughts. Dreams of flying, for the most part -characterised by delight, require the most widely different -interpretations—altogether special interpretations in the case of some -persons, and even interpretations of a typical nature in that of others. -One of my patients was in the habit of dreaming very often that she was -suspended above the street at a certain height, without touching the -ground. She had grown only to a very small stature, and shunned every -kind of contamination which accompanies intercourse with human beings. -Her dream of suspension fulfilled both of her wishes, by raising her -feet from the ground and by allowing her head to tower in the upper -regions. In the case of other female dreamers the dream of flying had -the significance of a longing: If I were a little bird; others thus -become angels at night because they have missed being called that by -day. The intimate connection between flying and the idea of a bird makes -it comprehensible that the dream of flying in the case of men usually -has a significance of coarse sensuality.[CK] We shall also not be -surprised to hear that this or that dreamer is always very proud of his -ability to fly. - -Dr. Paul Federn (Vienna) has propounded the fascinating theory that a -great many flying dreams are erection dreams, since the remarkable -phenomena of erection which so constantly occupy the human phantasy must -strongly impress upon it a notion of the suspension of gravity (_cf._ -the winged phalli of the ancients). - -Dreams of falling are most frequently characterised by fear. Their -interpretation, when they occur in women, is subject to no difficulty -because women always accept the symbolic sense of falling, which is a -circumlocution for the indulgence of an erotic temptation. We have not -yet exhausted the infantile sources of the dream of falling; nearly all -children have fallen occasionally, and then been picked up and fondled; -if they fell out of bed at night, they were picked up by their nurse and -taken into her bed. - -People who dream often of swimming, of cleaving the waves, with great -enjoyment, &c., have usually been persons who wetted their beds, and -they now repeat in the dream a pleasure which they have long since -learned to forgo. We shall soon learn from one example or another to -what representation the dreams of swimming easily lend themselves. - -The interpretation of dreams about fire justifies a prohibition of the -nursery which forbids children to burn matches in order that they may -not wet the bed at night. They too are based on the reminiscence of -_enuresis nocturnus_ of childhood. In the _Bruchstück einer -Hysterieanalyse_, 1905,[CL] I have given the complete analysis and -synthesis of such a fire-dream in connection with the infantile history -of the dreamer, and have shown to the representation of what emotions -this infantile material has been utilised in maturer years. - -It would be possible to cite a considerable number of other “typical” -dreams, if these are understood to refer to the frequent recurrence of -the same manifest dream content in the case of different dreamers, as, -for example: dreams of passing through narrow alleys, of walking through -a whole suite of rooms; dreams of the nocturnal burglar against whom -nervous people direct precautionary measures before going to sleep; -dreams of being chased by wild animals (bulls, horses), or of being -threatened with knives, daggers, and lances. The last two are -characteristic as the manifest dream content of persons suffering from -anxiety, &c. An investigation dealing especially with this material -would be well worth while. In lieu of this I have two remarks to offer, -which, however, do not apply exclusively to typical dreams. - -I. The more one is occupied with the solution of dreams, the more -willing one must become to acknowledge that the majority of the dreams -of adults treat of sexual material and give expression to erotic wishes. -Only one who really analyses dreams, that is to say, who pushes forward -from their manifest content to the latent dream thoughts, can form an -opinion on this subject—never the person who is satisfied with -registering the manifest content (as, for example, Näcke in his works on -sexual dreams). Let us recognise at once that this fact is not to be -wondered at, but that it is in complete harmony with the fundamental -assumptions of dream explanation. No other impulse has had to undergo so -much suppression from the time of childhood as the sex impulse in its -numerous components,[CM] from no other impulse have survived so many and -such intense unconscious wishes, which now act in the sleeping state in -such a manner as to produce dreams. In dream interpretation, this -significance of sexual complexes must never be forgotten, nor must they, -of course, be exaggerated to the point of being considered exclusive. - -Of many dreams it can be ascertained by a careful interpretation that -they are even to be taken bisexually, inasmuch as they result in an -irrefutable secondary interpretation in which they realise homosexual -feelings—that is, feelings that are common to the normal sexual activity -of the dreaming person. But that all dreams are to be interpreted -bisexually, as maintained by W. Stekel,[CN] and Alf. Adler,[CO] seems to -me to be a generalisation as indemonstrable as it is improbable, which I -should not like to support. Above all I should not know how to dispose -of the apparent fact that there are many dreams satisfying other than—in -the widest sense—erotic needs, as dreams of hunger, thirst, convenience, -&c. Likewise the similar assertions “that behind every dream one finds -the death sentence” (Stekel), and that every dream shows “a continuation -from the feminine to the masculine line” (Adler), seem to me to proceed -far beyond what is admissible in the interpretation of dreams. - -We have already asserted elsewhere that dreams which are conspicuously -innocent invariably embody coarse erotic wishes, and we might confirm -this by means of numerous fresh examples. But many dreams which appear -indifferent, and which would never be suspected of any particular -significance, can be traced back, after analysis, to unmistakably sexual -wish-feelings, which are often of an unexpected nature. For example, who -would suspect a sexual wish in the following dream until the -interpretation had been worked out? The dreamer relates: _Between two -stately palaces stands a little house, receding somewhat, whose doors -are closed. My wife leads me a little way along the street up to the -little house, and pushes in the door, and then I slip quickly and easily -into the interior of a courtyard that slants obliquely upwards._ - -Anyone who has had experience in the translating of dreams will, of -course, immediately perceive that penetrating into narrow spaces, and -opening locked doors, belong to the commonest sexual symbolism, and will -easily find in this dream a representation of attempted coition from -behind (between the two stately buttocks of the female body). The narrow -slanting passage is of course the vagina; the assistance attributed to -the wife of the dreamer requires the interpretation that in reality it -is only consideration for the wife which is responsible for the -detention from such an attempt. Moreover, inquiry shows that on the -previous day a young girl had entered the household of the dreamer who -had pleased him, and who had given him the impression that she would not -be altogether opposed to an approach of this sort. The little house -between the two palaces is taken from a reminiscence of the Hradschin in -Prague, and thus points again to the girl who is a native of that city. - -If with my patients I emphasise the frequency of the Oedipus dream—of -having sexual intercourse with one’s mother—I get the answer: “I cannot -remember such a dream.” Immediately afterwards, however, there arises -the recollection of another disguised and indifferent dream, which has -been dreamed repeatedly by the patient, and the analysis shows it to be -a dream of this same content—that is, another Oedipus dream. I can -assure the reader that veiled dreams of sexual intercourse with the -mother are a great deal more frequent than open ones to the same -effect.[CP] - -There are dreams about landscapes and localities in which emphasis is -always laid upon the assurance: “I have been there before.” In this case -the locality is always the genital organ of the mother; it can indeed be -asserted with such certainty of no other locality that one “has been -there before.” - -A large number of dreams, often full of fear, which are concerned with -passing through narrow spaces or with staying in the water, are based -upon fancies about the embryonic life, about the sojourn in the mother’s -womb, and about the act of birth. The following is the dream of a young -man who in his fancy has already while in embryo taken advantage of his -opportunity to spy upon an act of coition between his parents. - -“_He is in a deep shaft, in which there is a window, as in the Semmering -Tunnel. At first he sees an empty landscape through this window, and -then he composes a picture into it, which is immediately at hand and -which fills out the empty space. The picture represents a field which is -being thoroughly harrowed by an implement, and the delightful air, the -accompanying idea of hard work, and the bluish-black clods of earth make -a pleasant impression. He then goes on and sees a primary school -opened ... and he is surprised that so much attention is devoted in it -to the sexual feelings of the child, which makes him think of me._” - -Here is a pretty water-dream of a female patient, which was turned to -extraordinary account in the course of treatment. - -_At her summer resort at the ... Lake, she hurls herself into the dark -water at a place where the pale moon is reflected in the water._ - -Dreams of this sort are parturition dreams; their interpretation is -accomplished by reversing the fact reported in the manifest dream -content; thus, instead of “throwing one’s self into the water,” read -“coming out of the water,” that is, “being born.” The place from which -one is born is recognised if one thinks of the bad sense of the French -“la lune.” The pale moon thus becomes the white “bottom” (Popo), which -the child soon recognises as the place from which it came. Now what can -be the meaning of the patient’s wishing to be born at her summer resort? -I asked the dreamer this, and she answered without hesitation: “Hasn’t -the treatment made me as though I were born again?” Thus the dream -becomes an invitation to continue the cure at this summer resort, that -is, to visit her there; perhaps it also contains a very bashful allusion -to the wish to become a mother herself.[CQ] - -Another dream of parturition, with its interpretation, I take from the -work of E. Jones.[95] “_She stood at the seashore watching a small boy, -who seemed to be hers, wading into the water. This he did till the water -covered him, and she could only see his head bobbing up and down near -the surface. The scene then changed to the crowded hall of a hotel. Her -husband left her, and she ‘entered into conversation with’ a stranger._” -The second half of the dream was discovered in the analysis to represent -a flight from her husband, and the entering into intimate relations with -a third person, behind whom was plainly indicated Mr. X.’s brother -mentioned in a former dream. The first part of the dream was a fairly -evident birth phantasy. In dreams as in mythology, the delivery of a -child _from_ the uterine waters is commonly presented by distortion as -the entry of the child _into_ water; among many others, the births of -Adonis, Osiris, Moses, and Bacchus are well-known illustrations of this. -The bobbing up and down of the head in the water at once recalled to the -patient the sensation of quickening she had experienced in her only -pregnancy. Thinking of the boy going into the water induced a reverie in -which she saw herself taking him out of the water, carrying him into the -nursery, washing him and dressing him, and installing him in her -household. - -The second half of the dream, therefore, represents thoughts concerning -the elopement, which belonged to the first half of the underlying latent -content; the first half of the dream corresponded with the second half -of the latent content, the birth phantasy. Besides this inversion in -order, further inversions took place in each half of the dream. In the -first half the child _entered_ the water, and then his head bobbed; in -the underlying dream thoughts first the quickening occurred, and then -the child left the water (a double inversion). In the second half her -husband left her; in the dream thoughts she left her husband. - -Another parturition dream is related by Abraham[79] of a young woman -looking forward to her first confinement (p. 22): From a place in the -floor of the house a subterranean canal leads directly into the water -(parturition path, amniotic liquor). She lifts up a trap in the floor, -and there immediately appears a creature dressed in a brownish fur, -which almost resembles a seal. This creature changes into the younger -brother of the dreamer, to whom she has always stood in maternal -relationship. - -Dreams of “saving” are connected with parturition dreams. To save, -especially to save from the water, is equivalent to giving birth when -dreamed by a woman; this sense is, however, modified when the dreamer is -a man.[CR] - -Robbers, burglars at night, and ghosts, of which we are afraid before -going to bed, and which occasionally even disturb our sleep, originate -in one and the same childish reminiscence. They are the nightly visitors -who have awakened the child to set it on the chamber so that it may not -wet the bed, or have lifted the cover in order to see clearly how the -child is holding its hands while sleeping. I have been able to induce an -exact recollection of the nocturnal visitor in the analysis of some of -these anxiety dreams. The robbers were always the father, the ghosts -more probably corresponded to feminine persons with white night-gowns. - -II. When one has become familiar with the abundant use of symbolism for -the representation of sexual material in dreams, one naturally raises -the question whether there are not many of these symbols which appear -once and for all with a firmly established significance like the signs -in stenography; and one is tempted to compile a new dream-book according -to the cipher method. In this connection it may be remarked that this -symbolism does not belong peculiarly to the dream, but rather to -unconscious thinking, particularly that of the masses, and it is to be -found in greater perfection in the folk-lore, in the myths, legends, and -manners of speech, in the proverbial sayings, and in the current -witticisms of a nation than in its dreams.[CS] - -The dream takes advantage of this symbolism in order to give a disguised -representation to its latent thoughts. Among the symbols which are used -in this manner there are of course many which regularly, or almost -regularly, mean the same thing. Only it is necessary to keep in mind the -curious plasticity of psychic material. Now and then a symbol in the -dream content may have to be interpreted not symbolically, but according -to its real meaning; at another time the dreamer, owing to a peculiar -set of recollections, may create for himself the right to use anything -whatever as a sexual symbol, though it is not ordinarily used in that -way. Nor are the most frequently used sexual symbols unambiguous every -time. - -After these limitations and reservations I may call attention to the -following: Emperor and Empress (King and Queen) in most cases really -represent the parents of the dreamer;[CT] the dreamer himself or herself -is the prince or princess. All elongated objects, sticks, tree-trunks, -and umbrellas (on account of the stretching-up which might be compared -to an erection), all elongated and sharp weapons, knives, daggers, and -pikes, are intended to represent the male member. A frequent, not very -intelligible, symbol for the same is a nail-file (on account of the -rubbing and scraping?). Little cases, boxes, caskets, closets, and -stoves correspond to the female part. The symbolism of lock and key has -been very gracefully employed by Uhland in his song about the “Grafen -Eberstein,” to make a common smutty joke. The dream of walking through a -row of rooms is a brothel or harem dream. Staircases, ladders, and -flights of stairs, or climbing on these, either upwards or downwards, -are symbolic representations of the sexual act.[CU] Smooth walls over -which one is climbing, façades of houses upon which one is letting -oneself down, frequently under great anxiety, correspond to the erect -human body, and probably repeat in the dream reminiscences of the upward -climbing of little children on their parents or foster parents. “Smooth” -walls are men. Often in a dream of anxiety one is holding on firmly to -some projection from a house. Tables, set tables, and boards are women, -perhaps on account of the opposition which does away with the bodily -contours. Since “bed and board” (_mensa et thorus_) constitute marriage, -the former are often put for the latter in the dream, and as far as -practicable the sexual presentation complex is transposed to the eating -complex. Of articles of dress the woman’s hat may frequently be -definitely interpreted as the male genital. In dreams of men one often -finds the cravat as a symbol for the penis; this indeed is not only -because cravats hang down long, and are characteristic of the man, but -also because one can select them at pleasure, a freedom which is -prohibited by nature in the original of the symbol. Persons who make use -of this symbol in the dream are very extravagant with cravats, and -possess regular collections of them.[CV] All complicated machines and -apparatus in dream are very probably genitals, in the description of -which dream symbolism shows itself to be as tireless as the activity of -wit. Likewise many landscapes in dreams, especially with bridges or with -wooded mountains, can be readily recognised as descriptions of the -genitals. Finally where one finds incomprehensible neologisms one may -think of combinations made up of components having a sexual -significance. Children also in the dream often signify the genitals, as -men and women are in the habit of fondly referring to their genital -organ as their “little one.” As a very recent symbol of the male genital -may be mentioned the flying machine, utilisation of which is justified -by its relation to flying as well as occasionally by its form. To play -with a little child or to beat a little one is often the dream’s -representation of onanism. A number of other symbols, in part not -sufficiently verified, are given by Stekel,[114] who illustrates them -with examples. Right and left, according to him, are to be conceived in -the dream in an ethical sense. “The right way always signifies the road -to righteousness, the left the one to crime. Thus the left may signify -homosexuality, incest, and perversion, while the right signifies -marriage, relations with a prostitute, &c. The meaning is always -determined by the individual moral viewpoint of the dreamer” (_l.c._, p. -466). Relatives in the dream generally play the rôle of genitals (p. -473). Not to be able to catch up with a wagon is interpreted by Stekel -as regret not to be able to come up to a difference in age (p. 479). -Baggage with which one travels is the burden of sin by which one is -oppressed (_ibid._). Also numbers, which frequently occur in the dream, -are assigned by Stekel a fixed symbolical meaning, but these -interpretations seem neither sufficiently verified nor of general -validity, although the interpretation in individual cases can generally -be recognised as probable. In a recently published book by W. Stekel, -_Die Sprache des Traumes_, which I was unable to utilise, there is a -list (p. 72) of the most common sexual symbols, the object of which is -to prove that all sexual symbols can be bisexually used. He states: “Is -there a symbol which (if in any way permitted by the phantasy) may not -be used simultaneously in the masculine and the feminine sense!” To be -sure the clause in parentheses takes away much of the absoluteness of -this assertion, for this is not at all permitted by the phantasy. I do -not, however, think it superfluous to state that in my experience -Stekel’s general statement has to give way to the recognition of a -greater manifoldness. Besides those symbols, which are just as frequent -for the male as for the female genitals, there are others which -preponderately, or almost exclusively, designate one of the sexes, and -there are still others of which only the male or only the female -signification is known. To use long, firm objects and weapons as symbols -of the female genitals, or hollow objects (chests, boxes, pouches, &c.), -as symbols of the male genitals, is indeed not allowed by the fancy. - -It is true that the tendency of the dream and the unconscious fancy to -utilise the sexual symbol bisexually betrays an archaic trend, for in -childhood a difference in the genitals is unknown, and the same genitals -are attributed to both sexes. - -These very incomplete suggestions may suffice to stimulate others to -make a more careful collection.[CW] - -I shall now add a few examples of the application of such symbolisms in -dreams, which will serve to show how impossible it becomes to interpret -a dream without taking into account the symbolism of dreams, and how -imperatively it obtrudes itself in many cases. - -1. The hat as a symbol of the man (of the male genital):[CX] (a fragment -from the dream of a young woman who suffered from agoraphobia on account -of a fear of temptation). - -“I am walking in the street in summer, I wear a straw hat of peculiar -shape, the middle piece of which is bent upwards and the side pieces of -which hang downwards (the description became here obstructed), and in -such a fashion that one is lower than the other. I am cheerful and in a -confidential mood, and as I pass a troop of young officers I think to -myself: None of you can have any designs upon me.” - -As she could produce no associations to the hat, I said to her: “The hat -is really a male genital, with its raised middle piece and the two -downward hanging side pieces.” I intentionally refrained from -interpreting those details concerning the unequal downward hanging of -the two side pieces, although just such individualities in the -determinations lead the way to the interpretation. I continued by saying -that if she only had a man with such a virile genital she would not have -to fear the officers—that is, she would have nothing to wish from them, -for she is mainly kept from going without protection and company by her -fancies of temptation. This last explanation of her fear I had already -been able to give her repeatedly on the basis of other material. - -It is quite remarkable how the dreamer behaved after this -interpretation. She withdrew her description of the hat, and claimed not -to have said that the two side pieces were hanging downwards. I was, -however, too sure of what I had heard to allow myself to be misled, and -I persisted in it. She was quiet for a while, and then found the courage -to ask why it was that one of her husband’s testicles was lower than the -other, and whether it was the same in all men. With this the peculiar -detail of the hat was explained, and the whole interpretation was -accepted by her. The hat symbol was familiar to me long before the -patient related this dream. From other but less transparent cases I -believe that the hat may also be taken as a female genital. - -2. The little one as the genital—to be run over as a symbol of sexual -intercourse (another dream of the same agoraphobic patient). - -“Her mother sends away her little daughter so that she must go alone. -She rides with her mother to the railroad and sees her little one -walking directly upon the tracks, so that she cannot avoid being run -over. She hears the bones crackle. (From this she experiences a feeling -of discomfort but no real horror.) She then looks out through the car -window to see whether the parts cannot be seen behind. She then -reproaches her mother for allowing the little one to go out alone.” -Analysis. It is not an easy matter to give here a complete -interpretation of the dream. It forms part of a cycle of dreams, and can -be fully understood only in connection with the others. For it is not -easy to get the necessary material sufficiently isolated to prove the -symbolism. The patient at first finds that the railroad journey is to be -interpreted historically as an allusion to a departure from a sanatorium -for nervous diseases, with the superintendent of which she naturally was -in love. Her mother took her away from this place, and the physician -came to the railroad station and handed her a bouquet of flowers on -leaving; she felt uncomfortable because her mother witnessed this -homage. Here the mother, therefore, appears as a disturber of her love -affairs, which is the rôle actually played by this strict woman during -her daughter’s girlhood. The next thought referred to the sentence: “She -then looks to see whether the parts can be seen behind.” In the dream -façade one would naturally be compelled to think of the parts of the -little daughter run over and ground up. The thought, however, turns in -quite a different direction. She recalls that she once saw her father in -the bath-room naked from behind; she then begins to talk about the sex -differentiation, and asserts that in the man the genitals can be seen -from behind, but in the woman they cannot. In this connection she now -herself offers the interpretation that the little one is the genital, -her little one (she has a four-year-old daughter) her own genital. She -reproaches her mother for wanting her to live as though she had no -genital, and recognises this reproach in the introductory sentence of -the dream; the mother sends away her little one so that she must go -alone. In her phantasy going alone on the street signifies to have no -man and no sexual relations (coire = to go together), and this she does -not like. According to all her statements she really suffered as a girl -on account of the jealousy of her mother, because she showed a -preference for her father. - -The “little one” has been noted[CY] as a symbol for the male or the -female genitals by Stekel, who can refer in this connection to a very -widespread usage of language. - -The deeper interpretation of this dream depends upon another dream of -the same night in which the dreamer identifies herself with her brother. -She was a “tomboy,” and was always being told that she should have been -born a boy. This identification with the brother shows with special -clearness that “the little one” signifies the genital. The mother -threatened him (her) with castration, which could only be understood as -a punishment for playing with the parts, and the identification, -therefore, shows that she herself had masturbated as a child, though -this fact she now retained only in a memory concerning her brother. An -early knowledge of the male genital which she later lost she must have -acquired at that time according to the assertions of this second dream. -Moreover the second dream points to the infantile sexual theory that -girls originate from boys through castration. After I had told her of -this childish belief, she at once confirmed it with an anecdote in which -the boy asks the girl: “Was it cut off?” to which the girl replied, “No, -it’s always been so.” - -The sending away of the little one, of the genital, in the first dream -therefore also refers to the threatened castration. Finally she blames -her mother for not having been born a boy. - -That “being run over” symbolises sexual intercourse would not be evident -from this dream if we were not sure of it from many other sources. - -3. Representation of the genital by structures, stairways, and shafts. -(Dream of a young man inhibited by a father complex.) - -“He is taking a walk with his father in a place which is surely the -Prater, for the _Rotunda_ may be seen in front of which there is a small -front structure to which is attached a captive balloon; the balloon, -however, seems quite collapsed. His father asks him what this is all -for; he is surprised at it, but he explains it to his father. They come -into a court in which lies a large sheet of tin. His father wants to -pull off a big piece of this, but first looks around to see if anyone is -watching. He tells his father that all he needs to do is to speak to the -watchman, and then he can take without any further difficulty as much as -he wants to. From this court a stairway leads down into a shaft, the -walls of which are softly upholstered something like a leather -pocket-book. At the end of this shaft there is a longer platform, and -then a new shaft begins....” - -Analysis. This dream belongs to a type of patient which is not -favourable from a therapeutic point of view. They follow in the analysis -without offering any resistances whatever up to a certain point, but -from that point on they remain almost inaccessible. This dream he almost -analysed himself. “The Rotunda,” he said, “is my genital, the captive -balloon in front is my penis, about the weakness of which I have -worried.” We must, however, interpret in greater detail; the Rotunda is -the buttock which is regularly associated by the child with the genital, -the smaller front structure is the scrotum. In the dream his father asks -him what this is all for—that is, he asks him about the purpose and -arrangement of the genitals. It is quite evident that this state of -affairs should be turned around, and that he should be the questioner. -As such a questioning on the side of the father has never taken place in -reality, we must conceive the dream thought as a wish, or take it -conditionally, as follows: “If I had only asked my father for sexual -enlightenment.” The continuation of this thought we shall soon find in -another place. - -The court in which the tin sheet is spread out is not to be conceived -symbolically in the first instance, but originates from his father’s -place of business. For discretionary reasons I have inserted the tin for -another material in which the father deals, without, however, changing -anything in the verbal expression of the dream. The dreamer had entered -his father’s business, and had taken a terrible dislike to the -questionable practices upon which profit mainly depends. Hence the -continuation of the above dream thought (“if I had only asked him”) -would be: “He would have deceived me just as he does his customers.” For -the pulling off, which serves to represent commercial dishonesty, the -dreamer himself gives a second explanation—namely, onanism. This is not -only entirely familiar to us (see above, p. 234), but agrees very well -with the fact that the secrecy of onanism is expressed by its opposite -(“Why one can do it quite openly”). It, moreover, agrees entirely with -our expectations that the onanistic activity is again put off on the -father, just as was the questioning in the first scene of the dream. The -shaft he at once interprets as the vagina by referring to the soft -upholstering of the walls. That the act of coition in the vagina is -described as a going down instead of in the usual way as a going up, I -have also found true in other instances.[CZ] - -The details that at the end of the first shaft there is a longer -platform and then a new shaft, he himself explains biographically. He -had for some time consorted with women sexually, but had then given it -up because of inhibitions and now hopes to be able to take it up again -with the aid of the treatment. The dream, however, becomes indistinct -toward the end, and to the experienced interpreter it becomes evident -that in the second scene of the dream the influence of another subject -has begun to assert itself; in this his father’s business and his -dishonest practices signify the first vagina represented as a shaft so -that one might think of a reference to the mother. - -4. The male genital symbolised by persons and the female by a landscape. - -(Dream of a woman of the lower class, whose husband is a policeman, -reported by B. Dattner.) - -... Then someone broke into the house and anxiously called for a -policeman. But he went with two tramps by mutual consent into a -church,[DA] to which led a great many stairs;[DB] behind the church -there was a mountain,[DC] on top of which a dense forest.[DD] The -policeman was furnished with a helmet, a gorget, and a cloak.[DE] The -two vagrants, who went along with the policeman quite peaceably, had -tied to their loins sack-like aprons.[DF] A road led from the church to -the mountain. This road was overgrown on each side with grass and -brushwood, which became thicker and thicker as it reached the height of -the mountain, where it spread out into quite a forest. - -5. A stairway dream. - -(Reported and interpreted by Otto Rank.) - -For the following transparent pollution dream, I am indebted to the same -colleague who furnished us with the dental-irritation dream reported on -p. 235. - -“I am running down the stairway in the stair-house after a little girl, -whom I wish to punish because she has done something to me. At the -bottom of the stairs some one held the child for me. (A grown-up woman?) -I grasp it, but do not know whether I have hit it, for I suddenly find -myself in the middle of the stairway where I practise coitus with the -child (in the air as it were). It is really no coitus, I only rub my -genital on her external genital, and in doing this I see it very -distinctly, as distinctly as I see her head which is lying sideways. -During the sexual act I see hanging to the left and above me (also as if -in the air) two small pictures, landscapes, representing a house on a -green. On the smaller one my surname stood in the place where the -painter’s signature should be; it seemed to be intended for my birthday -present. A small sign hung in front of the pictures to the effect that -cheaper pictures could also be obtained. I then see myself very -indistinctly lying in bed, just as I had seen myself at the foot of the -stairs, and I am awakened by a feeling of dampness which came from the -pollution.” - -Interpretation. The dreamer had been in a book-store on the evening of -the day of the dream, where, while he was waiting, he examined some -pictures which were exhibited, which represented motives similar to the -dream pictures. He stepped nearer to a small picture which particularly -took his fancy in order to see the name of the artist, which, however, -was quite unknown to him. - -Later in the same evening, in company, he heard about a Bohemian -servant-girl who boasted that her illegitimate child “was made on the -stairs.” The dreamer inquired about the details of this unusual -occurrence, and learned that the servant-girl went with her lover to the -home of her parents, where there was no opportunity for sexual -relations, and that the excited man performed the act on the stairs. In -witty allusion to the mischievous expression used about wine-adulterers, -the dreamer remarked, “The child really grew on the cellar steps.” - -These experiences of the day, which are quite prominent in the dream -content, were readily reproduced by the dreamer. But he just as readily -reproduced an old fragment of infantile recollection which was also -utilised by the dream. The stair-house was the house in which he had -spent the greatest part of his childhood, and in which he had first -become acquainted with sexual problems. In this house he used, among -other things, to slide down the banister astride which caused him to -become sexually excited. In the dream he also comes down the stairs very -rapidly—so rapidly that, according to his own distinct assertions, he -hardly touched the individual stairs, but rather “flew” or “slid down,” -as we used to say. Upon reference to this infantile experience, the -beginning of the dream seems to represent the factor of sexual -excitement. In the same house and in the adjacent residence the dreamer -used to play pugnacious games with the neighbouring children, in which -he satisfied himself just as he did in the dream. - -If one recalls from Freud’s investigation of sexual symbolism[DG] that -in the dream stairs or climbing stairs almost regularly symbolises -coitus, the dream becomes clear. Its motive power as well as its effect, -as is shown by the pollution, is of a purely libidinous nature. Sexual -excitement became aroused during the sleeping state (in the dream this -is represented by the rapid running or sliding down the stairs) and the -sadistic thread in this is, on the basis of the pugnacious playing, -indicated in the pursuing and overcoming of the child. The libidinous -excitement becomes enhanced and urges to sexual action (represented in -the dream by the grasping of the child and the conveyance of it to the -middle of the stairway). Up to this point the dream would be one of pure -sexual symbolism, and obscure for the unpractised dream interpreter. But -this symbolic gratification, which would have insured undisturbed sleep, -was not sufficient for the powerful libidinous excitement. The -excitement leads to an orgasm, and thus the whole stairway symbolism is -unmasked as a substitute for coitus. Freud lays stress on the rhythmical -character of both actions as one of the reasons for the sexual -utilisation of the stairway symbolism, and this dream especially seems -to corroborate this, for, according to the express assertion of the -dreamer, the rhythm of a sexual act was the most pronounced feature in -the whole dream. - -Still another remark concerning the two pictures, which, aside from -their real significance, also have the value of “Weibsbilder” (literally -_woman-pictures_, but idiomatically _women_). This is at once shown by -the fact that the dream deals with a big and a little picture, just as -the dream content presents a big (grown up) and a little girl. That -cheap pictures could also be obtained points to the prostitution -complex, just as the dreamer’s surname on the little picture and the -thought that it was intended for his birthday, point to the parent -complex (to be born on the stairway—to be conceived in coitus). - -The indistinct final scene, in which the dreamer sees himself on the -staircase landing lying in bed and feeling wet, seems to go back into -childhood even beyond the infantile onanism, and manifestly has its -prototype in similarly pleasurable scenes of bed-wetting. - -6. A modified stair-dream. - -To one of my very nervous patients, who was an abstainer, whose fancy -was fixed on his mother, and who repeatedly dreamed of climbing stairs -accompanied by his mother, I once remarked that moderate masturbation -would be less harmful to him than enforced abstinence. This influence -provoked the following dream: - -“His piano teacher reproaches him for neglecting his piano-playing, and -for not practising the _Études_ of Moscheles and Clementi’s _Gradus ad -Parnassum_.” In relation to this he remarked that the _Gradus_ is only a -stairway, and that the piano itself is only a stairway as it has a -scale. - -It is correct to say that there is no series of associations which -cannot be adapted to the representation of sexual facts. I conclude with -the dream of a chemist, a young man, who has been trying to give up his -habit of masturbation by replacing it with intercourse with women. - -_Preliminary statement._—On the day before the dream he had given a -student instruction concerning Grignard’s reaction, in which magnesium -is to be dissolved in absolutely pure ether under the catalytic -influence of iodine. Two days before, there had been an explosion in the -course of the same reaction, in which the investigator had burned his -hand. - -Dream I. _He is to make phenylmagnesiumbromid; he sees the apparatus -with particular clearness, but he has substituted himself for the -magnesium. He is now in a curious swaying attitude. He keeps repeating -to himself, “This is the right thing, it is working, my feet are -beginning to dissolve and my knees are getting soft.” Then he reaches -down and feels for his feet, and meanwhile (he does not know how) he -takes his legs out of the crucible, and then again he says to himself, -“That cannot be.... Yes, it must be so, it has been done correctly.” -Then he partially awakens, and repeats the dream to himself, because he -wants to tell it to me. He is distinctly afraid of the analysis of the -dream. He is much excited during this semi-sleeping state, and repeats -continually, “Phenyl, phenyl.”_ - -II. _He is in ... ing with his whole family; at half-past eleven. He is -to be at the Schottenthor for a rendezvous with a certain lady, but he -does not wake up until half-past eleven. He says to himself, “It is too -late now; when you get there it will be half-past twelve.” The next -instant he sees the whole family gathered about the table—his mother and -the servant girl with the soup-tureen with particular clearness. Then he -says to himself, “Well, if we are eating already, I certainly can’t get -away.”_ - -Analysis: He feels sure that even the first dream contains a reference -to the lady whom he is to meet at the rendezvous (the dream was dreamed -during the night before the expected meeting). The student to whom he -gave the instruction is a particularly unpleasant fellow; he had said to -the chemist: “That isn’t right,” because the magnesium was still -unaffected, and the latter answered as though he did not care anything -about it: “It certainly isn’t right.” He himself must be this student; -he is as indifferent towards his analysis as the student is towards his -synthesis; the _He_ in the dream, however, who accomplishes the -operation, is myself. How unpleasant he must seem to me with his -indifference towards the success achieved! - -Moreover, he is the material with which the analysis (synthesis) is -made. For it is a question of the success of the treatment. The legs in -the dream recall an impression of the previous evening. He met a lady at -a dancing lesson whom he wished to conquer; he pressed her to him so -closely that she once cried out. After he had stopped pressing against -her legs, he felt her firm responding pressure against his lower thighs -as far as just above his knees, at the place mentioned in the dream. In -this situation, then, the woman is the magnesium in the retort, which is -at last working. He is feminine towards me, as he is masculine towards -the woman. If it will work with the woman, the treatment will also work. -Feeling and becoming aware of himself in the region of his knees refers -to masturbation, and corresponds to his fatigue of the previous day.... -The rendezvous had actually been set for half-past eleven. His wish to -over-sleep and to remain with his usual sexual objects (that is, with -masturbation) corresponds with his resistance. - -In relation to the repetition of the name phenyl, he gives the following -thoughts: All these radicals ending in _yl_ have always been pleasing to -him; they are very convenient to use: benzyl, azetyl, &c. That, however, -explained nothing. But when I proposed the radical Schlemihl[DH] he -laughed heartily, and related that during the summer he had read a book -by Prévost which contained a chapter: “Les exclus de l’amour,” the -description in which made him think of the Schlemihls, and he added, -“That is my case.” He would have again acted the Schlemihl if he had -missed the rendezvous. - - - - - VI - THE DREAM-WORK - - -All previous attempts to solve the problems of the dream have been based -directly upon the manifest dream content as it is retained in the -memory, and have undertaken to obtain an interpretation of the dream -from this content, or, if interpretation was dispensed with, to base a -judgment of the dream upon the evidence furnished by this content. We -alone are in possession of new data; for us a new psychic material -intervenes between the dream content and the results of our -investigations: and this is the _latent_ dream content or the dream -thoughts which are obtained by our method. We develop a solution of the -dream from this latter, and not from the manifest dream content. We are -also confronted for the first time with a problem which has not before -existed, that of examining and tracing the relations between the latent -dream thoughts and the manifest dream content, and the processes through -which the former have grown into the latter. - -We regard the dream thoughts and the dream content as two -representations of the same meaning in two different languages; or to -express it better, the dream content appears to us as a translation of -the dream thoughts into another form of expression, whose signs and laws -of composition we are to learn by comparing the original with the -translation. The dream thoughts are at once intelligible to us as soon -as we have ascertained them. The dream content is, as it were, presented -in a picture-writing, whose signs are to be translated one by one into -the language of the dream thoughts. It would of course be incorrect to -try to read these signs according to their values as pictures instead of -according to their significance as signs. For instance, I have before me -a picture-puzzle (rebus): a house, upon whose roof there is a boat; then -a running figure whose head has been apostrophised away, and the like. I -might now be tempted as a critic to consider this composition and its -elements nonsensical. A boat does not belong on the roof of a house and -a person without a head cannot run; the person, too, is larger than the -house, and if the whole thing is to represent a landscape, the single -letters of the alphabet do not fit into it, for of course they do not -occur in pure nature. A correct judgment of the picture-puzzle results -only if I make no such objections to the whole and its parts, but if, on -the contrary, I take pains to replace each picture by the syllable or -word which it is capable of representing by means of any sort of -reference, the words which are thus brought together are no longer -meaningless, but may constitute a most beautiful and sensible -expression. Now the dream is a picture-puzzle of this sort, and our -predecessors in the field of dream interpretation have made the mistake -of judging the rebus as an artistic composition. As such it appears -nonsensical and worthless. - - - (_a_) _The Condensation Work_ - -The first thing which becomes clear to the investigator in the -comparison of the dream content with the dream thoughts is that a -tremendous work of condensation has taken place. The dream is reserved, -paltry, and laconic when compared with the range and copiousness of the -dream thoughts. The dream when written down fills half a page; the -analysis, in which the dream thoughts are contained, requires six, -eight, twelve times as much space. The ratio varies with different -dreams; it never changes its essential meaning, as far as I have been -able to observe. As a rule the extent of the compression which has taken -place is under-estimated, owing to the fact that the dream thoughts -which are brought to light are considered the complete material, while -continued work of interpretation may reveal new thoughts which are -concealed behind the dream. We have already mentioned that one is really -never sure of having interpreted a dream completely; even if the -solution seems satisfying and flawless, it still always remains possible -that there is a further meaning which is manifested by the same dream. -Thus the _amount of condensation_ is—strictly speaking—indeterminable. -An objection, which at first sight seems very plausible, might be raised -against the assertion that the disproportion between dream content and -dream thought justifies the conclusion that an abundant condensation of -psychic material has taken place in the formation of dreams. For we so -often have the impression that we have dreamed a great deal throughout -the night and then have forgotten the greater part. The dream which we -recollect upon awakening would thus be only a remnant of the total -dream-work, which would probably equal the dream thoughts in range if we -were able to remember the former completely. In part this is certainly -true; there can be no mistake about the observation that the dream is -most accurately reproduced if one tries to remember it immediately after -awakening, and that the recollection of it becomes more and more -defective towards evening. On the other hand, it must be admitted that -the impression that we have dreamed a good deal more than we are able to -reproduce is often based upon an illusion, the cause of which will be -explained later. Moreover, the assumption of condensation in the dream -activity is not affected by the possibility of forgetting in dreams, for -it is proved by groups of ideas belonging to those particular parts of -the dream which have remained in the memory. If a large part of the -dream has actually been lost to memory, we are probably deprived of -access to a new series of dream thoughts. It is altogether unjustifiable -to expect that those portions of the dream which have been lost also -relate to the thoughts with which we are already acquainted from the -analysis of the portions which have been preserved. - -In view of the great number of ideas which analysis furnishes for each -individual element of the dream content, the chief doubt with many -readers will be whether it is permissible to count everything that -subsequently comes to mind during analysis as a part of the dream -thoughts—to assume, in other words, that all these thoughts have been -active in the sleeping state and have taken part in the formation of the -dream. Is it not more probable that thought connections are developed in -the course of analysis which did not participate in the formation of the -dream? I can meet this doubt only conditionally. It is true, of course, -that particular thought connections first arise only during analysis; -but one may always be sure that such new connections have been -established only between thoughts which have already been connected in -the dream thoughts by other means; the new connections are, so to speak, -corollaries, short circuits, which are made possible by the existence of -other more fundamental means of connection. It must be admitted that the -huge number of trains of thought revealed by analysis have already been -active in the formation of the dream, for if a chain of thoughts has -been worked out, which seems to be without connection with the formation -of the dream, a thought is suddenly encountered which, being represented -in the dream, is indispensable to its interpretation—which nevertheless -is inaccessible except through that chain of thoughts. The reader may -here turn to the dream of the botanical monograph, which is obviously -the result of an astonishing condensation activity, even though I have -not given the analysis of it completely. - -But how, then, is the psychic condition during sleep which precedes -dreaming to be imagined? Do all the dream thoughts exist side by side, -or do they occur one after another, or are many simultaneous trains of -thought constructed from different centres, which meet later on? I am of -the opinion that it is not yet necessary to form a plastic conception of -the psychic condition of dream formation. Only let us not forget that we -are concerned with unconscious thought, and that the process may easily -be a different one from that which we perceive in ourselves in -intentional contemplation accompanied by consciousness. - -The fact, however, that dream formation is based on a process of -condensation, stands indubitable. How, then, is this condensation -brought about? - -If it be considered that of those dream thoughts which are found only -the smallest number are represented in the dream by means of one of its -ideal elements, it might be concluded that condensation is accomplished -by means of ellipsis, in that the dream is not an accurate translation -or a projection point by point of the dream thoughts, but a very -incomplete and defective reproduction of them. This view, as we shall -soon find, is a very inadequate one. But let us take it as a starting -point for the present, and ask ourselves: If only a few of the elements -of the dream thoughts get into the dream content, what conditions -determine their choice? - -In order to gain enlightenment on this subject let us turn our attention -to those elements of the dream content which must have fulfilled the -conditions we are seeking. A dream to the formation of which an -especially strong condensation has contributed will be the most suitable -material for this investigation. I select the dream, cited on page 142, -of the botanical monograph. - -Dream content: _I have written a monograph upon a (obscure) certain -plant. The book lies before me, I am just turning over a folded coloured -plate. A dried specimen of the plant is bound with every copy as though -from a herbarium._ - -The most prominent element of this dream is the botanical monograph. -This comes from the impressions received on the day of the dream; I had -actually _seen a monograph on the genus “cyclamen”_ in the show-window -of a book-store. The mention of this genus is lacking in the dream -content, in which only the monograph and its relation to botany have -remained. The “botanical monograph” immediately shows its relation to -the work on cocaine which I had once written; thought connections -proceed from cocaine on the one hand to a “Festschrift,” and on the -other to my friend, the eye specialist, Dr. Koenigstein, who has had a -share in the utilisation of cocaine. Moreover, with the person of this -Dr. Koenigstein is connected the recollection of the interrupted -conversation which I had had with him on the previous evening and of the -manifold thoughts about remuneration for medical services among -colleagues. This conversation, then, is properly the actual stimulus of -the dream; the monograph about cyclamen is likewise an actuality but of -an indifferent nature; as I soon see, the “botanical monograph” of the -dream turns out to be a common mean between the two experiences of the -day, and to have been taken over unchanged from an indifferent -impression and bound up with the psychologically significant experience -by means of the most abundant associations. - -Not only the combined idea, “botanical monograph,” however, but also -each of the separate elements, “botanical” and “monograph,” penetrates -deeper and deeper into the confused tangle of the dream thoughts. To -“botanical” belong the recollections of the person of Professor -_Gartner_ (German: Gärtner = gardener), of his _blooming_ wife, of my -patient whose name is _Flora_, and of a lady about whom I told the story -of the forgotten _flowers_. _Gartner_, again, is connected with the -laboratory and the conversation with _Koenigstein_; the mention of the -two female patients also belongs to the same conversation. A chain of -thoughts, one end of which is formed by the title of the hastily seen -monograph, leads off in the other direction from the lady with the -flowers to the _favourite flowers_ of my wife. Besides this, “botanical” -recalls not only an episode at the Gymnasium, but an examination taken -while I was at the university; and a new subject matter—my hobbies—which -was broached in the conversation already mentioned, is connected by -means of my humorously so-called _favourite flower_, the artichoke, with -the chain of thoughts proceeding from the forgotten flowers; behind -“artichoke” there is concealed on the one hand a recollection of Italy, -and on the other a reminiscence of a childhood scene in which I first -formed my connection with books which has since grown so intimate. -“Botanical,” then, is a veritable nucleus, the centre for the dream of -many trains of thought, which, I may assure the reader, were correctly -and justly brought into relation to one another in the conversation -referred to. Here we find ourselves in a thought factory, in which, as -in the “Weaver’s Masterpiece”: - - “One tread moves thousands of threads, - The little shuttles fly back and forth, - The threads flow on unseen, - One stroke ties thousands of knots.” - -“_Monograph_” in the dream, again, has a bearing upon two subjects, the -one-sidedness of my studies and the costliness of my hobbies. - -The impression is gained from this first investigation that the elements -“botanical” and “monograph” have been accepted in the dream content -because they were able to show the most extensive connections with the -dream thoughts, and thus represent nuclei in which a great number of -dream thoughts come together, and because they have manifold -significance for the dream interpretation. The fact upon which this -explanation is based may be expressed in another form: Every element of -the dream content turns out to be _over-determined_—that is, it enjoys a -manifold representation in the dream thoughts. - -We shall learn more by testing the remaining component parts of the -dream as to their occurrence in the dream thoughts. _The coloured plate_ -refers (_cf._ the analysis on p. 145) to a new subject, the criticism -passed upon my work by colleagues, and to a subject already represented -in the dream—my hobbies—and also to a childish recollection in which I -pull to pieces the book with the coloured plates; the dried specimen of -the plant relates to an experience at the Gymnasium centering about and -particularly emphasizing the herbarium. Thus I see what sort of relation -exists between the dream content and dream thoughts: Not only do the -elements of the dream have a manifold determination in the dream -thoughts, but the individual dream thoughts are represented in the dream -by many elements. Starting from an element of the dream the path of -associations leads to a number of dream thoughts; and from a dream -thought to several elements of the dream. The formation of the dream -does not, therefore, take place in such fashion that a single one of the -dream thoughts or a group of them furnishes the dream content with an -abridgment as its representative therein, and that then another dream -thought furnishes another abridgment as its representative—somewhat as -popular representatives are elected from among the people—but the whole -mass of the dream thoughts is subjected to a certain elaboration, in the -course of which those elements that receive the greatest and completest -support stand out in relief, analogous, perhaps, to election by -_scrutins des listes_. Whatever dream I may subject to such -dismemberment, I always find the same fundamental principle -confirmed—that the dream elements are constructed from the entire mass -of the dream thoughts and that every one of them appears in relation to -the dream thoughts to have a multiple determination. - -It is certainly not out of place to demonstrate this relation of the -dream content to the dream thoughts by means of a fresh example, which -is distinguished by a particularly artful intertwining of reciprocal -relations. The dream is that of a patient whom I am treating for -claustrophobia (fear in enclosed spaces). It will soon become evident -why I feel myself called upon to entitle this exceptionally intellectual -piece of dream activity in the following manner: - - - II. “_A Beautiful Dream_” - -_The dreamer is riding with much company to X-street, where there is a -modest road-house_ (which is not the fact). _A theatrical performance is -being given in its rooms. He is first audience, then actor. Finally the -company is told to change their clothes, in order to get back into the -city. Some of the people are assigned to the rooms on the ground floor, -others to the first floor. Then a dispute arises. Those above are angry -because those below have not yet finished, so that they cannot come -down. His brother is upstairs, he is below, and he is angry at his -brother because there is such crowding._ (This part obscure.) _Besides -it has already been decided upon their arrival who is to be upstairs and -who down. Then he goes alone over the rising ground, across which -X-street leads toward the city, and he has such difficulty and hardship -in walking that he cannot move from the spot. An elderly gentleman joins -him and scolds about the King of Italy. Finally, towards the end of the -rising ground walking becomes much easier._ - -The difficulties experienced in walking were so distinct that for some -time after waking he was in doubt whether they were dream or reality. - -According to the manifest content, this dream can hardly be praised. -Contrary to the rules, I shall begin with that portion which the dreamer -referred to as the most distinct. - -The difficulties which were dreamed of, and which were probably -experienced during the dream—difficult climbing accompanied by -dyspnœa—is one of the symptoms which the patient had actually shown -years before, and which, in conjunction with other symptoms, was at that -time attributed to tuberculosis (probably hysterically simulated). We -are already from exhibition dreams acquainted with this sensation of -being hindered, peculiar to the dream, and here again we find it used -for the purpose of any kind of representation, as an ever-ready -material. That part of the dream content which ascribes the climbing as -difficult at first, and as becoming easier at the end of the hill, made -me think while it was being told of the well-known masterful -introduction to _Sappho_ by A. Daudet. Here a young man carries the girl -whom he loves upstairs—she is at first as light as a feather; but the -higher he mounts the more heavily she weighs upon his arm, and this -scene symbolises a course of events by recounting which Daudet tries to -warn young men not to waste serious affection upon girls of humble -origin or of questionable past.[DI] Although I knew that my patient had -recently had a love affair with a lady of the theatre, and had broken it -off, I did not expect to find that the interpretation which had occurred -to me was correct. Moreover, the situation in _Sappho_ was the _reverse_ -of that in the dream; in the latter the climbing was difficult at the -beginning and easy later on; in the novel the symbolism serves only if -what was at first regarded as easy finally turns out to be a heavy load. -To my astonishment, the patient remarked that the interpretation -corresponded closely to the plot of a play which he had seen on the -evening before at the theatre. The play was called _Round about Vienna_, -and treated of the career of a girl who is respectable at first but -later goes over to the _demi-monde_, who has affairs with persons in -high places, thus “climbing,” but finally “goes down” faster and faster. -This play had reminded him of another entitled _From Step to Step_, in -the advertisement of which had appeared a _stairway_ consisting of -several steps. - -Now to continue the interpretation. The actress with whom he had had his -most recent affair, a complicated one, had lived in X-street. There is -no inn in this street. However, while he was spending a part of the -summer in Vienna for the sake of the lady, he had lodged (German -_abgestiegen_ = stopped, literally _stepped off_) at a little hotel in -the neighbourhood. As he was leaving the hotel he said to the -cab-driver, “I am glad I didn’t get any vermin anyway” (which -incidentally is one of his phobias). Whereupon the cab-driver answered: -“How could anybody stop there! It isn’t a hotel at all, it’s really -nothing but a _road-house_!” - -The road-house immediately suggests to the dreamer’s recollection a -quotation: - - “Of that marvellous host - I was once a guest.” - -But the host in the poem by Uhland is an apple tree. Now a second -quotation continues the train of thought: - - FAUST (_dancing with the young witch_). - - “A lovely dream once came to me; - I then beheld an apple tree, - And there two fairest apples shone: - They lured me so, I climbed thereon.” - - THE FAIR ONE. - - “Apples have been desired by you, - Since first in Paradise they grew; - And I am moved with joy to know - That such within my garden grow.” - - _Translated by_ BAYARD TAYLOR. - -There remains not the slightest doubt what is meant by the apple tree -and the apples. A beautiful bosom stood high among the charms with which -the actress had bewitched our dreamer. - -According to the connections of the analysis we had every reason to -assume that the dream went back to an impression from childhood. In this -case it must have reference to the nurse of the patient, who is now a -man of nearly fifty years of age. The bosom of the nurse is in reality a -road-house for the child. The nurse as well as Daudet’s Sappho appears -as an allusion to his abandoned sweetheart. - -The (elder) brother of the patient also appears in the dream content; he -is upstairs, the dreamer himself is below. This again is an _inversion_, -for the brother, as I happen to know, has lost his social position, my -patient has retained his. In reporting the dream content the dreamer -avoided saying that his brother was upstairs and that he himself was -_down_. It would have been too frank an expression, for a person is said -to be “down and out” when he has lost his fortune and position. Now the -fact that at this point in the dream something is represented as -inverted must have a meaning. The inversion must apply rather to some -other relation between the dream thoughts and dream content. There is an -indication which suggests how this inversion is to be taken. It -obviously applies to the end of the dream, where the circumstances of -climbing are the reverse of those in _Sappho_. Now it may easily be seen -what inversion is referred to; in _Sappho_ the man carries the woman who -stands in a sexual relation to him; in the dream thoughts, _inversely_, -a woman carries a man, and as this state of affairs can only occur -during childhood, the reference is again to the nurse who carries the -heavy child. Thus the final portion of the dream succeeds in -representing _Sappho_ and the nurse in the same allusion. - -Just as the name _Sappho_ has not been selected by the poet without -reference to a Lesbian custom, so the elements of the dream in which -persons act _above_ and _below_, point to fancies of a sexual nature -with which the dreamer is occupied and which as suppressed cravings are -not without connection with his neurosis. Dream interpretation itself -does not show that these are fancies and not recollections of actual -happenings; it only furnishes us with a set of thoughts and leaves us to -determine their value as realities. Real and fantastic occurrences at -first appear here as of equal value—and not only here but also in the -creation of more important psychic structures than dreams. Much company, -as we already know, signifies a secret. The brother is none other than a -representative, drawn into the childhood scene by “fancying backwards,” -of all of the later rivals for the woman. Through the agency of an -experience which is indifferent in itself, the episode with the -gentleman who scolds about the King of Italy again refers to the -intrusion of people of low rank into aristocratic society. It is as -though the warning which Daudet gives to youth is to be supplemented by -a similar warning applicable to the suckling child.[DJ] - -In order that we may have at our disposal a third example for the study -of condensation in dream formation, I shall cite the partial analysis of -another dream for which I am indebted to an elderly lady who is being -psychoanalytically treated. In harmony with the condition of severe -anxiety from which the patient suffered, her dreams contained a great -abundance of sexual thought material, the discovery of which astonished -as well as frightened her. Since I cannot carry the interpretation of -the dream to completion, the material seems to fall apart into several -groups without apparent connection. - -III. Content of the dream: _She remembers that she has two June bugs in -a box, which she must set at liberty, for otherwise they will suffocate. -She opens the box, and the bugs are quite exhausted; one of them flies -out of the window, but the other is crushed on the casement while she is -shutting the window, as some one or other requests her to do -(expressions of disgust)._ - -Analysis: Her husband is away travelling, and her fourteen-year-old -daughter is sleeping in the bed next to her. In the evening the little -one calls her attention to the fact that a moth has fallen into her -glass of water; but she neglects to take it out, and feels sorry for the -poor little creature in the morning. A story which she had read in the -evening told of boys throwing a cat into boiling water, and the -twitchings of the animal were described. These are the occasions for the -dream, both of which are indifferent in themselves. She is further -occupied with the subject of _cruelty to animals_. Years before, while -they were spending the summer at a certain place, her daughter was very -cruel to animals. She started a butterfly collection, and asked her for -arsenic with which to kill the butterflies. Once it happened that a moth -flew about the room for a long time with a needle through its body; on -another occasion she found that some moths which had been kept for -metamorphosis had died of starvation. The same child while still at a -tender age was in the habit of pulling out the wings of beetles and -butterflies; now she would shrink in horror from these cruel actions, -for she has grown very kind. - -Her mind is occupied with this contrast. It recalls another contrast, -the one between appearance and disposition, as it is described in _Adam -Bede_ by George Eliot. There a beautiful but vain and quite stupid girl -is placed side by side with an ugly but high-minded one. The aristocrat -who seduces the little goose, is opposed to the working man who feels -_aristocratic_, and behaves accordingly. It is impossible to tell -character from people’s _looks_. Who could tell from _her_ looks that -she is tormented by sensual desires? - -In the same year in which the little girl started her butterfly -collection, the region in which they were staying suffered much from a -pest of June bugs. The children made havoc among the bugs, and _crushed_ -them cruelly. At that time she saw a person who tore the wings off the -June bugs and ate them. She herself had been born in June and also -married in June. Three days after the wedding she wrote a letter home, -telling how happy she was. But she was by no means happy. - -During the evening before the dream she had rummaged among her old -letters and had read various ones, comical and serious, to her family—an -extremely ridiculous letter from a piano-teacher who had paid her -attention when she was a girl, as well as one from an aristocratic -admirer.[DK] - -She blames herself because a bad book by de Maupassant had fallen into -the hands of one of her daughters.[DL] The arsenic which her little girl -asks for recalls the arsenic pills which restored the power of youth to -the Duc de Mora in _Nabab_. - -“Set at liberty” recalls to her a passage from the _Magic Flute_: - - “I cannot compel you to love, - But I will not give you your liberty.” - -“June bugs” suggests the speech of Katie:[DM] - - “I love you like a little beetle.” - -Meanwhile the speech from _Tannhauser_: “For you are wrought with evil -passion.” - -She is living in fear and anxiety about her absent husband. The dread -that something may happen to him on the journey is expressed in numerous -fancies of the day. A little while before, during the analysis, she had -come upon a complaint about his “senility” in her unconscious thoughts. -The wish thought which this dream conceals may perhaps best be -conjectured if I say that several days before the dream she was suddenly -astounded by a command which she directed to her husband in the midst of -her work: “_Go hang yourself_.” It was found that a few hours before she -had read somewhere that a vigorous erection is induced when a person is -hanged. It was for the erection which freed itself from repression in -this terror-inspiring veiled form. “Go hang yourself” is as much as to -say: “Get up an erection, at any cost.” Dr. Jenkin’s arsenic pills in -_Nabab_ belong in this connection; for it was known to the patient that -the strongest aphrodisiac, cantharides, is prepared by _crushing bugs_ -(so-called Spanish flies). The most important part of the dream content -has a significance to this effect. - -Opening and shutting the _window_ is the subject of a standing quarrel -with her husband. She herself likes to sleep with plenty of air, and her -husband does not. _Exhaustion_ is the chief ailment of which she -complains these days. - -In all three of the dreams just cited I have emphasized by italics those -phrases where one of the elements of the dream recurs in the dream -thoughts in order to make the manifold references of the former obvious. -Since, however, the analysis of none of these dreams has been carried to -completion, it will be well worth while to consider a dream with a fully -detailed analysis, in order to demonstrate the manifold determination of -its content. I select the dream of Irma’s injection for this purpose. We -shall see without effort in this example that the condensation work has -used more than one means for the formation of the dream. - -The chief person in the content of the dream is my patient Irma, who is -seen with the features which belong to her in waking life, and who -therefore in the first instance represents herself. But her attitude as -I examine her at the window is taken from the recollection of another -person, of the lady for whom I should like to exchange my patient, as -the dream thoughts show. In as far as Irma shows a diphtheritic membrane -which recalls my anxiety about my eldest daughter, she comes to -represent this child of mine, behind whom is concealed the person of the -patient who died from intoxication and who is brought into connection by -the identity of her name. In the further course of the dream the -significance of Irma’s personality changes (without the alteration of -her image as it is seen in the dream); she becomes one of the children -whom we examine in the public dispensaries for children’s diseases, -where my friends show the difference of their mental capabilities. The -transference was obviously brought about through the idea of my infant -daughter. By means of her unwillingness to open her mouth the same Irma -is changed into an allusion to another lady who was once examined by me, -and besides that to my wife, in the same connection. Furthermore, in the -morbid transformations which I discover in her throat I have gathered -allusions to a great number of other persons. - -All these people whom I encounter as I follow the associations suggested -by “Irma,” do not appear personally in the dream; they are concealed -behind the dream person “Irma,” who is thus developed into a collective -image, as might be expected, with contradictory features. Irma comes to -represent these other persons, who are discarded in the work of -condensation, in that I cause to happen to her all the things which -recall these persons detail for detail. - -I may also construct a collective person for the condensation of the -dream in another manner, by uniting the actual features of two or more -persons in one dream image. It is in this manner that Dr. M. in my dream -was constructed, he bears the name of Dr. M., and speaks and acts as Dr. -M. does, but his bodily characteristics and his suffering belong to -another person, my eldest brother; a single feature, paleness, is doubly -determined, owing to the fact that it is common to both persons. Dr. R. -in my dream about my uncle is a similar composite person. But here the -dream image is prepared in still another manner. I have not united -features peculiar to the one with features of the other, and thereby -abridged the remembered image of each by certain features, but I have -adopted the method employed by Galton in producing family portraits, by -which he projects both pictures upon one another, whereupon the common -features stand out in stronger relief, while those which do not coincide -neutralize one another and become obscure in the picture. In the dream -of my uncle the _blond beard_ stands out in relief, as an emphasized -feature, from the physiognomy, which belongs to two persons, and which -is therefore blurred; furthermore the beard contains an allusion to my -father and to myself, which is made possible by its reference to the -fact of growing grey. - -The construction of collective and composite persons is one of the chief -resources of the activity of dream condensation. There will soon be an -occasion for treating of this in another connection. - -The notion “dysentery” in the dream about the injection likewise has a -manifold determination, on the one hand because of its paraphasic -assonance with diphtheria, and on the other because of its reference to -the patient, whom I have sent to the Orient, and whose hysteria has been -wrongly recognised. - -The mention of “propyls” in the dream also proves to be an interesting -case of condensation. Not “propyls” but “amyls” were contained in the -dream thoughts. One might think that here a simple displacement had -occurred in the dream formation. And this is the case, but the -displacement serves the purposes of condensation, as is shown by the -following supplementary analysis. If I dwell for a moment upon the word -“propyls,” its assonance to the word “propylæum” suggests itself to me. -But the propylæum is to be found not only in Athens but also in Munich. -In the latter city I visited a friend the year before who was seriously -ill, and the reference to him becomes unmistakable on account of -_trimethylamin_, which follows closely upon _propyls_. - -I pass over the striking circumstance that here, as elsewhere in the -analysis of dreams, associations of the most widely different values are -employed for the establishment of thought connections as though they -were equivalent, and I yield to the temptation to regard the process by -which _amyls_ in the dream thoughts are replaced by _propyls_, as though -it were plastic in the dream content. - -On the one hand is the chain of ideas about my friend Otto, who does not -understand me, who thinks I am in the wrong, and who gives me the -cordial that smells like amyls; on the other the chain of -ideas—connected with the first by contrast—about my friend William, who -understands me and who would always think I was in the right, and to -whom I am indebted for so much valuable information about the chemistry -of the sexual processes. - -Those characteristics of the associations centering about Otto which -ought particularly to attract my attention are determined by the recent -occasions which are responsible for the dream; _amyls_ belong to these -elements so determined which are destined to get into the dream content. -The group of associations “William” is distinctly vivified by the -contrast to Otto, and the elements in it which correspond to those -already excited in the “Otto” associations are thrown into relief. In -this whole dream I am continually referring to a person who excites my -displeasure and to another person whom I can oppose to him or her at -will, and I conjure up the friend as against the enemy, feature for -feature. Thus amyls in the Otto-group suggests recollections in the -other group belonging to chemistry; trimethylamin, which receives -support from several quarters, finds its way into the dream content. -“Amyls,” too, might have got into the dream content without undergoing -change, but it yields to the influence of the “William” group of -associations, owing to the fact that an element which is capable of -furnishing a double determination for amyls is sought out from the whole -range of recollections which the name “William” covers. The association -“propyls” lies in the neighbourhood of _amyls_; Munich with the -propylæum comes to meet _amyls_ from the series of associations -belonging to “William.” Both groups are united in _propyls—propylœum_. -As though by a compromise, this intermediary element gets into the dream -content. Here a _common mean_ which permits of a manifold determination -has been created. It thus becomes perfectly obvious that manifold -determination must facilitate penetration into the dream content. A -displacement of attention from what is really intended to something -lying near in the associations has thoughtlessly taken place, for the -sake of this mean-formation. - -The study of the injection dream has now enabled us to get some insight -into the process of condensation which takes place in the formation of -dreams. The selection of those elements which occur in the dream content -more than once, the formation of new unities (collective persons, -composite images), and the construction of the common mean, these we -have been able to recognise as details of the condensing process. The -purpose which is served by condensation and the means by which it is -brought about will be investigated when we come to study the psychic -processes in the formation of dreams as a whole. Let us be content for -the present with establishing dream _condensation_ as an important -relation between the dream thoughts and the dream content. - -The condensing activity of the dream becomes most tangible when it has -selected words and names as its object. In general words are often -treated as things by the dream, and thus undergo the same combinations, -displacements, and substitutions, and therefore also condensations, as -ideas of things. The results of such dreams are comical and bizarre word -formations. Upon one occasion when a colleague had sent me one of his -essays, in which he had, in my judgment, overestimated the value of a -recent physiological discovery and had expressed himself in extravagant -terms, I dreamed the following night a sentence which obviously referred -to this treatise: “_That is in true norekdal style_.” The solution of -this word formation at first gave me difficulties, although it was -unquestionably formed as a parody after the pattern of the superlatives -“colossal,” “pyramidal”; but to tell where it came from was not easy. At -last the monster fell apart into the two names Nora and Ekdal from two -well-known plays by Ibsen. I had previously read a newspaper essay on -Ibsen by the same author, whose latest work I was thus criticising in -the dream. - -II.[DN] One of my female patients dreams that _a man with a light beard -and a peculiar glittering eye is pointing to a sign board attached to a -tree which reads: uclamparia—wet_. - -Analysis. The man was rather authoritative looking, and his peculiar -glittering eye at once recalled St. Paul’s Cathedral, near Rome, where -she saw in mosaics the Popes that have so far ruled. One of the early -Popes had a golden eye (this was really an optical illusion which the -guides usually call attention to). Further associations showed that the -general physiognomy corresponded to her own clergyman (Pope), and the -shape of the light beard recalled her doctor (myself), while the stature -of the man in the dream recalled her father. All these persons stand in -the same relation to her; they are all guiding and directing her course -of life. On further questioning, the golden eye recalled gold—money—the -rather expensive psychoanalytic treatment which gives her a great deal -of concern. Gold, moreover, recalls the gold cure for alcoholism—Mr. D., -whom she would have married if it had not been for his clinging to the -disgusting alcohol habit—she does not object to a person taking an -occasional drink; she herself sometimes drinks beer and cordials—this -again brings her back to her visit to St. Paul’s without the walls and -its surroundings. She remembers that in the neighbouring monastery of -the Three Fountains she drank a liquor made of eucalyptus by the -Trappist monks who inhabit this monastery. She then relates how the -monks transformed this malarial and swampy region into a dry and -healthful neighbourhood by planting there many eucalyptus trees. The -word “uclamparia” then resolves itself into eucalyptus and malaria, and -the word “wet” refers to the former swampy nature of the place. Wet also -suggests dry. Dry is actually the name of the man whom she would have -married except for his over-indulgence in alcohol. The peculiar name of -Dry is of Germanic origin (drei = three) and hence alludes to the Abbey -of the Three (drei) Fountains above mentioned. In talking about Mr. -Dry’s habit she used the strong words, “He could drink a fountain.” Mr. -Dry jocosely refers to his habit by saying, “You know I must drink -because I am always _dry_” (referring to his name). The eucalyptus also -refers to her neurosis, which was at first diagnosed as malaria. She -went to Italy because her attacks of anxiety, which were accompanied by -marked trembling and shivering, were thought to be of malarial origin. -She bought some eucalyptus oil from the monks, and she maintains that it -has done her much good. - -The condensation _uclamparia—wet_ is therefore the point of junction for -the dream as well as for the neurosis.[DO] - -III. In a somewhat long and wild dream of my own, the chief point of -which is apparently a sea voyage, it happens that the next landing is -called _Hearsing_ and the one farther on _Fliess_. The latter is the -name of my friend living in B., who has often been the objective point -of my travels. But Hearsing is put together from the names of places in -the local environment of Vienna, which so often end in _ing_: -_Hietzing_, _Liesing_, _Moedling_ (Medelitz, “meæ deliciæ,” my own name, -“_my joy_”) (joy = German Freude), and the English _hearsay_, which -points to libel and establishes the relation to the indifferent dream -excitement of the day—a poem in the _Fliegende Blaetter_ about a -slanderous dwarf, “Saidhe Hashesaid.” By connecting the final syllable -“_ing_” with the name _Fliess_, “_Vlissingen_” is obtained, which is a -real port on the sea-voyage which my brother passes when he comes to -visit us from England. But the English for _Vlissingen_ is _Flushing_, -which signifies blushing and recalls erythrophobia (fear of blushing), -which I treat, and also reminds me of a recent publication by Bechterew -about this neurosis, which has given occasion for angry feelings in me. - -IV. Upon another occasion I had a dream which consisted of two parts. -The first was the vividly remembered word “Autodidasker,” the second was -truthfully covered by a short and harmless fancy which had been -developed a few days before, and which was to the effect that I must -tell Professor N., when I saw him next: “The patient about whose -condition I last consulted you is really suffering from a neurosis, just -as you suspected.” The coinage “_Autodidasker_” must, then, not only -satisfy the requirement that it should contain or represent a compressed -meaning, but also that this meaning should have a valid connection with -my purpose, which is repeated from waking life, of giving Professor N. -his due credit. - -Now _Autodidasker_ is easily separated into _author_ (German _Autor_), -_autodidact_, and _Lasker_, with whom is associated the name Lasalle. -The first of these words leads to the occasion of the dream—which this -time is significant. I had brought home to my wife several volumes by a -well-known author, who is a friend of my brother’s, and who, as I have -learned, comes from the same town as I (J. J. David). One evening she -spoke to me about the profound impression which the touching sadness of -a story in one of David’s novels, about a talented but degenerate -person, had made upon her, and our conversation turned upon the -indications of talent which we perceive in our own children. Under the -influence of what she had just read, my wife expressed a concern -relative to our children, and I comforted her with the remark that it is -just such dangers that can be averted by education. During the night my -train of thoughts proceeded further, took up the concern of my wife, and -connected with it all sorts of other things. An opinion which the poet -had expressed to my brother upon the subject of marriage showed my -thoughts a by-path which might lead to a representation in the dream. -This path led to Breslau, into which city a lady who was a very good -friend of ours had married. I found in Breslau Lasker and Lasalle as -examples realising our concern about being ruined at the hands of a -woman, examples which enabled me to represent both manifestations of -this influence for the bad at once.[DP] The “Cherchez la femme,” in -which these thoughts may be summed up, when taken in another sense, -brings me to my brother, who is still unmarried and whose name is -Alexander. Now I see that Alex, as we abbreviate the name, sounds almost -like inversion of Lasker and that this factor must have taken part in -giving my thoughts their detour by way of Breslau. - -But this playing with names and syllables in which I am here engaged -contains still another meaning. The wish that my brother may have a -happy family life is represented by it in the following manner. In the -artistic romance _L’Œuvre_, the writer, as is well known, has -incidentally given an episodic account of himself and of his own family -happiness, and he appears under the name of _Sandoz_. Probably he has -taken the following course in the name transformation. _Zola_ when -inverted (as children like so much to do) gives _Aloz_. But that was -still too undisguised for him; therefore he replaced the syllable _Al_, -which stands at the beginning of the name Alexander, by the third -syllable of the same name, _sand_, and thus _Sandoz_ came about. In a -similar manner my _autodidasker_ originated. - -My fancy, that I am telling Professor N. that the patient whom we had -both seen is suffering from a neurosis, got into the dream in the -following manner. Shortly before the close of my working year I received -a patient in whose case my diagnosis failed me. A serious organic -affliction—perhaps some changes in the spine—was to be assumed, but -could not be proved. It would have been tempting to diagnose the trouble -as a neurosis, and this would have put an end to all difficulties, had -it not been for the fact that the sexual anamnesis, without which I am -unwilling to admit a neurosis, was so energetically denied by the -patient. In my embarrassment I called to my assistance the physician -whom I respect most of all men (as others do also), and to whose -authority I surrender most completely. He listened to my doubts, told me -he thought them justified, and then said: “Keep on observing the man, it -is probably a neurosis.” Since I know that he does not share my opinions -about the etiology of neuroses, I suppressed my disagreement, but I did -not conceal my scepticism. A few days after I informed the patient that -I did not know what to do with him, and advised him to go to some one -else. Thereupon, to my great astonishment, he began to beg my pardon for -having lied to me, saying that he had felt very much ashamed; and now he -revealed to me just that piece of sexual etiology which I had expected, -and which I found necessary for assuming the existence of a neurosis. -This was a relief to me, but at the same time a humiliation; for I had -to admit that my consultant, who was not disconcerted by the absence of -anamnesis, had made a correct observation. I made up my mind to tell him -about it when I saw him again, and to say to him that he had been in the -right and I in the wrong. - -This is just what I do in the dream. But what sort of a wish is supposed -to be fulfilled if I acknowledge that I am in the wrong? This is exactly -my wish; I wish to be in the wrong with my apprehensions—that is to say, -I wish that my wife whose fears I have appropriated in the dream -thoughts may remain in the wrong. The subject to which the matter of -being in the right or in the wrong is related in the dream is not far -distant from what is really interesting to the dream thoughts. It is the -same pair of alternatives of either organic or functional impairment -through a woman, more properly through the sexual life—either tabetic -paralysis or a neurosis—with which the manner of Lasalle’s ruin is more -or less loosely connected. - -In this well-joined dream (which, however, is quite transparent with the -help of careful analysis) Professor N. plays a part not merely on -account of this analogy and of my wish to remain in the wrong, or on -account of the associated references to Breslau and to the family of our -friend who is married there—but also on account of the following little -occurrence which was connected with our consultation. After he had -attended to our medical task by giving the above mentioned suggestion, -his interest was directed to personal matters. “How many children have -you now?”—“Six.”—A gesture of respect and reflection.—“Girls, -boys?”—“Three of each. They are my pride and my treasure.”—“Well, there -is no difficulty about the girls, but the boys give trouble later on in -their education.” I replied that until now they had been very tractable; -this second diagnosis concerning the future of my boys of course pleased -me as little as the one he had made earlier, namely, that my patient had -only a neurosis. These two impressions, then, are bound together by -contiguity, by being successively received, and if I incorporate the -story of the neurosis into the dream, I substitute it for the -conversation upon education which shows itself to be even more closely -connected with the dream thoughts owing to the fact that it has such an -intimate bearing upon the subsequently expressed concerns of my wife. -Thus even my fear that N. may turn out to be right in his remarks on the -educational difficulties in the case of boys is admitted into the dream -content, in that it is concealed behind the representation of my wish -that I may be wrong in such apprehensions. The same fancy serves without -change to represent both conflicting alternatives. - -The verbal compositions of the dream are very similar to those which are -known to occur in paranoia, but which are also found in hysteria and in -compulsive ideas. The linguistic habits of children, who at certain -periods actually treat words as objects and invent new languages and -artificial syntaxes, are in this case the common source for the dream as -well as for psychoneuroses. - -When speeches occur in the dream, which are expressly distinguished from -thoughts as such, it is an invariable rule that the dream speech has -originated from a remembered speech in the dream material. Either the -wording has been preserved in its integrity, or it has been slightly -changed in the course of expression; frequently the dream speech is -pieced together from various recollections of speeches, while the -wording has remained the same and the meaning has possibly been changed -so as to have two or more significations. Not infrequently the dream -speech serves merely as an allusion to an incident, at which the -recollected speech occurred.[DQ] - - - (_b_) _The Work of Displacement_ - -Another sort of relation, which is no less significant, must have come -to our notice while we were collecting examples of dream condensation. -We have seen that those elements which obtrude themselves in the dream -content as its essential components play a part in the dream thoughts -which is by no means the same. As a correlative to this the converse of -this thesis is also true. That which is clearly the essential thing in -the dream thoughts need not be represented in the dream at all. The -dream, as it were, is _eccentric_; its contents are grouped about other -elements than the dream thoughts as a central point. Thus, for example, -in the dream about the botanical monograph the central point of the -dream content is apparently the element “botanical”; in the dream -thoughts we are concerned with the complications and conflicts which -result from services rendered among colleagues which put them under -obligations to one another, subsequently with the reproach that I am in -the habit of sacrificing too much to my hobbies, and the element -“botanical” would in no case find a place in this nucleus of the dream -thoughts if it were not loosely connected with it by an antithesis, for -botany was never among my favourite studies. In the Sappho dream of my -patient the ascending and descending, being upstairs and down, is made -the central point; the dream, however, is concerned with the danger of -sexual relations with persons of low _degree_, so that only one of the -elements of the dream thoughts seems to have been taken over into the -dream content, albeit with unseemly elaboration. Similarly in the dream -about June bugs, whose subject is the relation of sexuality to cruelty, -the factor of cruelty has indeed reappeared but in a different -connection and without the mention of the sexual, that is to say, it has -been torn from its context and transformed into something strange. -Again, in the dream about my uncle, the blond beard, which seems to be -its central point, appears to have no rational connection with the -wishes for greatness which we have recognised as the nucleus of the -dream thoughts. It is only to be expected if such dreams give a -displaced impression. In complete contrast to these examples, the dream -of Irma’s injection shows that individual elements can claim the same -place in the formation of dreams which they occupy in the dream -thoughts. The recognition of these new and entirely variable relations -between the dream thoughts and the dream content is at first likely to -excite our astonishment. If we find in a psychic process of normal life -that an idea has been culled from among a number of others, and has -acquired particular vividness in our consciousness, we are in the habit -of regarding this result as a proof that the victorious idea is endowed -with a peculiarly high degree of psychic value—a certain degree of -interest. We now discover that this value of the individual elements in -the dream thoughts is not preserved in the formation of the dream, or -does not come into consideration. For there is no doubt as to the -elements of the dream thoughts which are of the highest value; our -judgment tells us immediately. In the formation of dreams those elements -which are emphasized with intense interest may be treated as though they -were inferior, and other elements are put in their place which certainly -were inferior in the dream thoughts. We are at first given the -impression that the psychic intensity[DR] of the individual ideas does -not come into consideration at all for the selection made by the dream, -but only their greater or smaller multiplicity of determination. Not -what is important in the dream thoughts gets into the dream, but what is -contained in them several times over, one might be inclined to think; -but our understanding of the formation of dreams is not much furthered -by this assumption, for at the outset it will be impossible to believe -that the two factors of manifold determination and of integral value do -not tend in the same direction in the influence they exert on the -selection made by the dream. Those ideas in the dream thoughts which are -most important are probably also those which recur most frequently, for -the individual dream thoughts radiate from them as from central points. -And still the dream may reject those elements which are especially -emphasized and which receive manifold support, and may take up into its -content elements which are endowed only with the latter property. - -This difficulty may be solved by considering another impression received -in the investigation of the manifold determination of the dream content. -Perhaps many a reader has already passed his own judgment upon this -investigation by saying that the manifold determination of the elements -of the dream is not a significant discovery, because it is a -self-evident one. In the analysis one starts from the dream elements, -and registers all the notions which are connected with them; it is no -wonder, then, that these elements should occur with particular frequency -in the thought material which is obtained in this manner. I cannot -acknowledge the validity of this objection, but shall say something -myself which sounds like it. Among the thoughts which analysis brings to -light, many can be found which are far removed from the central idea of -the dream, and which appear distinguished from the rest as artificial -interpolations for a definite purpose. Their purpose may easily be -discovered; they are just the ones which establish a connection, often a -forced and far-fetched one, between the dream content and the dream -thoughts, and if these elements were to be weeded out, not only -over-determination but also a sufficient determination by means of the -dream thoughts would often be lacking for the dream content. We are thus -led to the conclusion that manifold determination, which decides the -selection made by the dream, is perhaps not always a primary factor in -dream formation, but is often the secondary manifestation of a psychic -power which is still unknown to us. But in spite of all this, manifold -determination must nevertheless control the entrance of individual -elements into the dream, for it is possible to observe that it is -established with considerable effort in cases where it does not result -from the dream material without assistance. - -The assumption is not now far distant that a psychic force is expressed -in dream activity which on the one hand strips elements of high psychic -value of their intensity, and which on the other hand creates new -values, _by way of over-determination_, from elements of small value, -these new values subsequently getting into the dream content. If this is -the method of procedure, there has taken place in the formation of the -dream a transference and displacement of the psychic intensities of the -individual elements, of which the textual difference between the dream -and the thought content appears as a result. The process which we assume -here is nothing less than the essential part of the dream activity; it -merits the designation of _dream displacement_. _Dream displacement_ and -_dream condensation_ are the two craftsmen to whom we may chiefly -attribute the moulding of the dream. - -I think we also have an easy task in recognising the psychic force which -makes itself felt in the circumstances of dream displacement. The result -of this displacement is that the dream content no longer resembles the -core of the dream thoughts at all, and that the dream reproduces only a -disfigured form of the dream-wish in the unconscious. But we are already -acquainted with dream disfigurement; we have traced it back to the -censorship which one psychic instance in the psychic life exercises upon -the other. Dream displacement is one of the chief means for achieving -this disfigurement. _Is fecit, cui profuit._ We may assume that dream -displacement is brought about by the influence of this censor, of the -endopsychic repulsion.[DS] - -The manner in which the factors of displacement, condensation, and -over-determination play into one another in the formation of the dream, -which is the ruling factor and which the subordinate one, all this will -be reserved as the subject of later investigations. For the present we -may state, as a second condition which the elements must satisfy in -order to get into the dream, that _they must be withdrawn from the -censor of resistance_. From now on we shall take account of dream -displacement as an unquestionable fact in the interpretation of dreams. - - - (_c_) _Means of Representation in the Dream_ - -Besides the two factors of dream condensation and dream displacement -which we have found to be active in the transformation of the latent -dream material into the manifest content, we shall come in the course of -this investigation upon two other conditions which exercise an -unquestionable influence upon the selection of the material which gets -into the dream. Even at the risk of seeming to stop our progress, I -should like to glance at the processes by which the interpretation of -dreams is accomplished. I do not deny that I should succeed best in -making them clear, and in showing that they are sufficiently reliable to -insure them against attack, by taking a single dream as a paradigm and -developing its interpretation, as I have done in Chapter II. in the -dream of “Irma’s Injection,” and then putting together the dream -thoughts which I have discovered, and reconstructing the formation of -the dream from them—that is to say, by supplementing the analysis of -dreams by a synthesis of them. I have accomplished this with several -specimens for my own instruction; but I cannot undertake to do it here -because I am prevented by considerations, which every right-minded -person must approve of, relative to the psychic material necessary for -such a demonstration. In the analysis of dreams these considerations -present less difficulty, for an analysis may be incomplete and still -retain its value even if it leads only a short way into the thought -labyrinth of the dream. I do not see how a synthesis could be anything -short of complete in order to be convincing. I could give a complete -synthesis only of the dreams of such persons as are unknown to the -reading public. Since, however, only neurotic patients furnish me with -the means for doing this, this part of the description of the dream must -be postponed until I can carry the psychological explanation of neuroses -far enough—elsewhere—to be able to show their connection with the -subject matter under consideration.[DT] - -From my attempts synthetically to construct dreams from the dream -thoughts, I know that the material which is obtained from interpretation -varies in value. For a part of it consists of the essential dream -thoughts which would, therefore, completely replace the dream, and which -would in themselves be sufficient for this replacement if there were no -censor for the dream. The other part may be summed up under the term -“collaterals”; taken as a whole they represent the means by which the -real wish that arises from the dream thoughts is transformed into the -dream-wish. A first part of these “collaterals” consists of allusions to -the actual dream thoughts, which, considered schematically, correspond -to displacements from the essential to the non-essential. A second part -comprises the thoughts which connect these non-essential elements, that -have become significant through displacement with one another, and which -reach from them into the dream content. Finally a third part contains -the ideas and thought connections which (in the work of interpretation) -conduct us from the dream content to the intermediary collaterals, _all -of which_ need not _necessarily_ have participated in the formation of -the dream. - -At this point we are interested exclusively in the essential dream -thoughts. These are usually found to be a complex of thoughts and -memories of the most intricate possible construction, and to possess all -the properties of the thought processes which are known to us from -waking life. Not infrequently they are trains of thought which proceed -from more than one centre, but which do not lack points of connection; -almost regularly a chain of thought stands next to its contradictory -correlative, being connected with it by contrast associations. - -The individual parts of this complicated structure naturally stand in -the most manifold logical relations to one another. They constitute a -foreground or background, digressions, illustrations, conditions, chains -of argument, and objections. When the whole mass of these dream thoughts -is subjected to the pressure of the dream activity, during which the -parts are turned about, broken up, and pushed together, something like -drifting ice, there arises the question, what becomes of the logical -ties which until now had given form to the structure? What -representation do “if,” “because,” “as though,” “although,” “either—or,” -and all the other conjunctions, without which we cannot understand a -phrase or a sentence, receive in the dream? - -At first we must answer that the dream has at its disposal no means for -representing these logical relations among the dream thoughts. In most -cases it disregards all these conjunctions, and undertakes the -elaboration only of the objective content of the dream thoughts. It is -left to the interpretation of the dream to restore the coherence which -the activity of the dream has destroyed. - -If the dream lacks ability to express these relations, the psychic -material of which the dream is wrought must be responsible. The -descriptive arts are limited in the same manner—painting and the plastic -arts in comparison with poetry, which can employ speech; and here too -the reason for this impotence is to be found in the material in the -treatment of which the two arts strive to give expression to something. -Before the art of painting had arrived at an understanding of the laws -of expression by which it is bound, it attempted to escape this -disadvantage. In old paintings little tags were hung from the mouths of -the persons represented giving the speech, the expression of which in -the picture the artist despaired of. - -Perhaps an objection will here be raised challenging the assertion that -the dream dispenses with the representation of logical relations. There -are dreams in which the most complicated intellectual operations take -place, in which proof and refutation are offered, puns and comparisons -made, just as in waking thoughts. But here, too, appearances are -deceitful; if the interpretation of such dreams is pursued, it is found -that all of this is _dream material, not the representation of -intellectual activity in the dream_. The _content_ of the dream thoughts -is reproduced by the apparent thinking of the dream, not _the relations -of the dream thoughts to one another_, in the determination of which -relations thinking consists. I shall give examples of this. But the -thesis which is most easily established is that all speeches which occur -in the dream, and which are expressly designated as such, are unchanged -or only slightly modified copies of speeches which are likewise to be -found in the recollections of the dream material. Often the speech is -only an allusion to an event contained in the dream thoughts; the -meaning of the dream is a quite different one. - -I shall not deny, indeed, that there is also critical thought activity -which does not merely repeat material from the dream thoughts and which -takes part in the formation of the dream. I shall have to explain the -influence of this factor at the close of this discussion. It will then -become clear that this thought activity is evoked not by the dream -thoughts, but by the dream itself after it is already finished in a -certain sense. - -We shall, therefore, consider it settled for the present that the -logical relations among the dream thoughts do not enjoy any particular -representation in the dream. For instance, where there is a -contradiction in the dream, this is either a contradiction directed -against the dream itself or a contradiction derived from the content of -one of the dream thoughts; a contradiction in the dream corresponds to a -contradiction _among_ the dream thoughts only in a highly indirect -manner. - -But just as the art of painting finally succeeded in depicting in the -represented persons, at least their intention in speaking—their -tenderness, threatening attitude, warning mien, and the like—by other -means than the dangling tag, so also the dream has found it possible to -render account of a few of the logical relations among its dream -thoughts by means of an appropriate modification of the peculiar method -of dream representation. It will be found by experience that different -dreams go to different lengths in taking this into consideration; while -one dream entirely disregards the logical coherence of its material, -another attempts to indicate it as completely as possible. In so doing -the dream departs more or less widely from the subject-matter which it -is to elaborate. The dream also takes a similarly varying attitude -towards the temporal coherence of the dream thoughts, if such coherence -has been established in the unconscious (as for example in the dream of -Irma’s injection). - -But what are the means by which the dream activity is enabled to -indicate these relations in the dream material which are so difficult to -represent? I shall attempt to enumerate these separately. - -In the first place, the dream renders account of the connection which is -undeniably present between all the parts of the dream thoughts by -uniting this material in a single composition as a situation or process. -It reproduces _logical connection in the form of simultaneousness_; in -this case it acts something like the painter who groups together all the -philosophers or poets into a picture of the school of Athens or of -Parnassus, although these were never at once present in any hall or on -any mountain top—though they do, however, form a unity from the point of -view of reflective contemplation. - -The dream carries out this method of representation in detail. Whenever -it shows two elements close together, it vouches for a particularly -intimate connection between those elements which correspond to them in -the dream thoughts. It is as in our method of writing: _to_ signifies -that the two letters are to be pronounced as one syllable, while _t_ -with _o_ after a free space shows that _t_ is the last letter of one -word and _o_ the first letter of another. According to this, dream -combinations are not made of arbitrary, completely incongruent elements -of the dream material, but of elements that also have a somewhat -intimate relation to one another in the dream thoughts. - -For representing causal relation the dream has two methods, which are -essentially reducible to one. The more frequent method, in cases, for -example, where the dream thoughts are to the effect: “Because this was -so and so, this and that must happen,” consists in making the premise an -introductory dream and joining the conclusion to it in the form of the -main dream. If my interpretation is correct, the sequence may also be -reversed. That part of the dream which is more completely worked out -always corresponds to the conclusion. - -A female patient, whose dream I shall later give in full, once furnished -me with a neat example of such a representation of causal relationship. -The dream consisted of a short prologue and of a very elaborate but well -organised dream composition, which might be entitled: “A flower of -speech.” The prologue of the dream is as follows: _She goes to the two -maids in the kitchen and scolds them for taking so long to prepare “a -little bite of food.” She also sees a great many coarse dishes standing -in the kitchen, inverted so that the water may drop off them, and heaped -up in a pile. The two maids go to fetch water, and must, as it were, -step into a river, which reaches up to the house or into the yard._ - -Then follows the main dream, which begins as follows: _She is descending -from a high place, over balustrades that are curiously fashioned, and -she is glad that her dress doesn’t get caught anywhere_, &c. Now the -introductory dream refers to the house of the lady’s parents. Probably -she has often heard from her mother the words which are spoken in the -kitchen. The piles of unwashed dishes are taken from an unpretentious -earthenware shop which was located in the same house. The second part of -this dream contains an allusion to the dreamer’s father, who always had -a great deal to do with servant girls, and who later contracted a fatal -disease during a flood—the house stood near the bank of a river. The -thought which is concealed behind the introductory dream, then, is to -this effect: “Because I was born in this house, under such limited and -unlovely circumstances.” The main dream takes up the same thought, and -presents it in a form that has been altered by the tendency to -wish-fulfilment: “I am of exalted origin.” Properly then: “Because I was -born in such low circumstances, my career has been so and so.” - -As far as I can see, the partition of a dream into two unequal portions -does not always signify a causal relation between the thoughts of the -two portions. It often appears as though the same material were being -presented in the two dreams from different points of view; or as though -the two dreams have proceeded from two separated centres in the dream -material and their contents overlap, so that the object which is the -centre of one dream has served in the other as an allusion, and _vice -versa_. But in a certain number of cases a division into shorter -fore-dreams and longer subsequent dreams actually signifies a causal -relation between the two portions. The other method of representing -causal relation is used with less abundant material and consists in the -change of one image in the dream, whether a person or a thing, into -another. It is only in cases where we witness this change taking place -in the dream that any causal relation is asserted to exist, not where we -merely notice that one thing has taken the place of another. I said that -both methods of representing causal relation are reducible to the same -thing; in both cases _causation_ is represented by a _succession_, now -by the sequence of the dreams, now by the immediate transformation of -one image into another. In the great majority of cases, of course, -causal relation is not expressed at all, but is obliterated by the -sequence of elements which is unavoidable in the dream process. - -The dream is altogether unable to express the alternative, “either—or”; -it is in the habit of taking both members of this alternative into one -context, as though they were equally privileged. A classic example of -this is contained in the dream of Irma’s injection. Its latent thoughts -obviously mean: I am innocent of the continued presence of Irma’s pains; -the fault rests either with her resistance to accepting the solution, -_or_ with the fact that she is living under unfavourable sexual -conditions, which I am unable to change, _or_ her pains are not of a -hysteric nature at all, but organic. The dream, however, fulfils all -these possibilities, which are almost exclusive, and is quite ready to -extract from the dream-wish an additional fourth solution of this kind. -After interpreting the dream I have therefore inserted the _either—or_ -in the sequence of the dream thoughts. - -In the case where the dreamer finds occasion in telling the dream to use -_either—or_: “It was either a garden or a living-room,” &c., it is not -really an alternative which occurs in the dream thoughts, but an “and,” -a simple addition. When we use _either—or_ we are usually describing a -characteristic of indistinctness belonging to an element of the dream -which is still capable of being cleared up. The rule of interpretation -for this case is as follows: The separate members of the alternative are -to be treated as equals and connected by “and.” For instance, after -waiting for a long time in vain for the address of my friend who is -living in Italy, I dream that I receive a telegram which tells me this -address. Upon the strip of telegraph paper I see printed in blue the -following; the first word is blurred: - - perhaps _via_, - or _villa_, the second is distinctly: _Sezerno_ or perhaps (_Casa_). - -The second word, which sounds like an Italian name and which reminds me -of our etymological discussions, also expresses my displeasure on -account of the fact that my friend has kept his place of residence -secret from me for so long a time; every member of the triple suggestion -for the first word may be recognised in the course of analysis as a -self-sufficient and equally well-justified starting point in the -concatenation of ideas. - -During the night before the funeral of my father I dreamed of a printed -placard, a card or poster—perhaps something like signs in railway -waiting-rooms which announce the prohibition of smoking—which reads -either: - - _It is requested to shut the eyes_ - or - _It is requested to shut an eye_ - -which I am in the habit of representing in the following form: - - _the_ - _It is requested to shut_ _eye(s)._ - _an_ - -Each of the two variations has its own particular meaning, and leads us -along particular paths in the interpretation of the dream. I had made -the simplest kind of funeral arrangements, for I knew how the deceased -thought about such matters. Other members of the family, however, did -not approve of such puritanic simplicity; they thought we would have to -be ashamed before the mourners. Hence one of the wordings of the dream -requests the “shutting of one eye,” that is to say, that people should -show consideration. The significance of the blurring, which we describe -with an _either—or_, may here be seen with particular ease. The dream -activity has not succeeded in constructing a unified but at the same -time ambiguous wording for the dream thoughts. Thus the two main trains -of thought are already distinguished even in the dream content. - -In a few cases the division of the dream into two equal parts expresses -the alternative which the dream finds it so difficult to represent. - -The attitude of the dream towards the category of antithesis and -contradiction is most striking. This category is unceremoniously -neglected; the word “No” does not seem to exist for the dream. -Antitheses are with peculiar preference reduced to unity or represented -as one. The dream also takes the liberty of representing any element -whatever by its desired opposite, so that it is at first impossible to -tell about any element capable of having an opposite, whether it is to -be taken negatively or positively, in the dream thoughts.[DU] In one of -the last-mentioned dreams, whose introductory portion we have already -interpreted (“because my parentage is such”), the dreamer descends over -a balustrade and holds a blossoming twig in her hands. Since this -picture suggests to her the angel in paintings of the Annunciation (her -own name is Mary) carrying a lily stem in his hand, and the white-robed -girls marching in the procession on Corpus Christi Day when the streets -are decorated with green bows, the blossoming twig in the dream is very -certainly an allusion to sexual innocence. But the twig is thickly -studded with red blossoms, each one of which resembles a camelia. At the -end of her walk, so the dream continues, the blossoms have already -fallen considerably apart; then unmistakable allusions to menstruation -follow. But this very twig which is carried like a lily and as though by -an innocent girl, is also an allusion to Camille, who, as is known, -always wore a white camelia, but a red one at the time of her -menstruation. The same blossoming twig (“the flower of maidenhood” in -the songs about the miller’s daughter by Goethe) represents at once -sexual innocence and its opposite. The same dream, also, which expresses -the dreamer’s joy at having succeeded in passing through life unsullied, -hints in several places (as at the falling-off of the blossom), at the -opposite train of thought—namely, that she had been guilty of various -sins against sexual purity (that is in her childhood). In the analysis -of the dream we may clearly distinguish the two trains of thought, of -which the comforting one seems to be superficial, the reproachful one -more profound. The two are diametrically opposed to each other, and -their like but contrasting elements have been represented by the -identical dream elements. - -The mechanism of dream formation is favourable in the highest degree to -only one of the logical relations. This relation is that of similarity, -correspondence, contiguity, “as though,” which is capable of being -represented in the dream as no other can be, by the most varied -expedients. The correspondences occurring in the dream, or cases of “as -though,” are the chief points of support for the formation of dreams, -and no inconsiderable part of the dream activity consists in creating -new correspondences of this sort in cases where those which are already -at hand are prevented by the censor of resistance from getting into the -dream. The effort towards condensation shown by the dream activity -assists in the representation of the relation of similarity. - -_Similarity_, _agreement_, _community_, are quite generally expressed in -the dream by concentration into a _unity_, which is either already found -in the dream material or is newly created. The first case may be -referred to as _identification_, the second as _composition_. -Identification is used where the dream is concerned with persons, -composition where things are the objects of unification; but -compositions are also made from persons. Localities are often treated as -persons. - -Identification consists in giving representation in the dream content to -only one of a number of persons who are connected by some common -feature, while the second or the other persons seem to be suppressed as -far as the dream is concerned. This one representative person in the -dream enters into all the relations and situations which belong to -itself or to the persons who are covered by it. In cases of composition, -however, when this has to do with persons, there are already present in -the dream image features which are characteristic of, but not common to, -the persons in question, so that a new unity, a composite person, -appears as the result of the union of these features. The composition -itself may be brought about in various ways. Either the dream person -bears the name of one of the persons to whom it refers—and then we know, -in a manner which is quite analogous to knowledge in waking life, that -this or that person is the one who is meant—while the visual features -belong to another person; or the dream image itself is composed of -visual features which in reality are shared by both. Instead of visual -features, also, the part played by the second person may be represented -by the mannerisms which are usually ascribed to him, the words which he -usually speaks, or the situations in which he is usually imagined. In -the latter method of characterisation the sharp distinction between -identification and composition of persons begins to disappear. But it -may also happen that the formation of such a mixed personality is -unsuccessful. The situation of the dream is then attributed to one -person, and the other—as a rule the more important one—is introduced as -an inactive and unconcerned spectator. The dreamer relates something -like “My mother was also there” (Stekel). - -The common feature which justifies the union of the two persons—that is -to say, which is the occasion for it—may either be represented in the -dream or be absent. As a rule, identification or composition of persons -simply serves the purpose of dispensing with the representation of this -common feature. Instead of repeating: “A is ill disposed towards me, and -B is also,” I make a composite person of A and B in the dream, or I -conceive A as doing an unaccustomed action which usually characterises -B. The dream person obtained in this way appears in the dream in some -new connection, and the fact that it signifies both A and B justifies me -in inserting that which is common to both—their hostility towards me—at -the proper place in the interpretation of the dream. In this manner I -often achieve a very extraordinary degree of condensation of the dream -content; I can save myself the direct representation of very complicated -relations belonging to a person, if I can find a second person who has -an equal claim to a part of these relations. It is also obvious to what -extent this representation by means of identification can circumvent the -resisting censor, which makes the dream activity conform to such harsh -conditions. That which offends the censor may lie in those very ideas -which are connected in the dream material with the one person; I now -find a second person, who likewise has relation to the objectionable -material, but only to a part of it. The contact in that one point which -offends the censor now justified me in forming a composite person, which -is characterised on either hand by indifferent features. This person -resulting from composition or identification, who is unobjectionable to -the censor, is now suited for incorporation in the dream content, and by -the application of dream condensation I have satisfied the demands of -the dream censor. - -In dreams where a common feature of two persons is represented, this is -usually a hint to look for another concealed common feature, the -representation of which is made impossible by the censor. A displacement -of the common feature has here taken place partly in order to facilitate -representation. From the circumstance that the composite person appears -to me with an indifferent common feature, I must infer that another -common feature which is by no means indifferent exists in the dream -thoughts. - -According to what has been said, identification or composition of -persons serves various purposes in the dream; in the first place, to -represent a feature common to the two persons; secondly, to represent a -displaced common feature; and thirdly, even to give expression to a -community of features that is merely _wished for_. As the wish for a -community between two persons frequently coincides with the exchanging -of these persons, this relation in the dream is also expressed through -identification. In the dream of Irma’s injection I wish to exchange this -patient for another—that is to say, I wish the latter to be my patient -as the former has been; the dream takes account of this wish by showing -me a person who is called Irma, but who is examined in a position such -as I have had the opportunity of seeing only when occupied with the -other person in question. In the dream about my uncle this substitution -is made the centre of the dream; I identify myself with the minister by -judging and treating my colleague as shabbily as he does. - -It has been my experience—and to this I have found no exception—that -every dream treats of one’s own person. Dreams are absolutely egotistic. -In cases where not my ego, but only a strange person occurs in the dream -content, I may safely assume that my ego is concealed behind that person -by means of identification. I am permitted to supplement my ego. On -other occasions when my ego appears in the dream, I am given to -understand by the situation in which it is placed that another person is -concealing himself behind the ego. In this case the dream is intended to -give me notice that in the interpretation I must transfer something -which is connected with this person—the hidden common feature—to myself. -There are also dreams in which my ego occurs along with other persons -which the resolution of the identification again shows to be my ego. By -means of this identification I am instructed to unite in my ego certain -ideas to whose acceptance the censor has objected. I may also give my -ego manifold representation in the dream, now directly, now by means of -identification with strangers. An extraordinary amount of thought -material may be condensed by means of a few such identifications.[DV] - -The resolution of the identification of localities designated under -their own names is even less difficult than that of persons, because -here the disturbing influence of the ego, which is all-powerful in the -dream, is lacking. In one of my dreams about Rome (p. 164) the name of -the place in which I find myself is Rome; I am surprised, however, at -the great number of German placards at a street corner. The latter is a -wish-fulfilment, which immediately suggests Prague; the wish itself -probably originated at a period in my youth when I was imbued with a -German nationalistic spirit which is suppressed to-day. At the time of -my dream I was looking forward to meeting a friend in Prague; the -identification of Rome and Prague is thus to be explained by means of a -desired common feature; I would rather meet my friend in Rome than in -Prague, I should like to exchange Prague for Rome for the purpose of -this meeting. - -The possibility of creating compositions is one of the chief causes of -the phantastic character so common in dreams, in that it introduces into -the dream elements which could never have been the objects of -perception. The psychic process which occurs in the formation of -compositions is obviously the same which we employ in conceiving or -fashioning a centaur or a dragon in waking life. The only difference is -that in the phantastic creations occurring in waking life the intended -impression to be made by the new creation is itself the deciding factor, -while the composition of the dream is determined by an influence—the -common feature in the dream thoughts—which is independent of the form of -the image. The composition of the dream may be accomplished in a great -many different ways. In the most artless method of execution the -properties of the one thing are represented, and this representation is -accompanied by the knowledge that they also belong to another object. A -more careful technique unites the features of one object with those of -the other in a new image, while it makes skilful use of resemblance -between the two objects which exist in reality. The new creation may -turn out altogether absurd or only phantastically ingenious, according -to the subject-matter and the wit operative in the work of composition. -If the objects to be condensed into a unity are too incongruous, the -dream activity is content with creating a composition with a -comparatively distinct nucleus, to which are attached less distinct -modifications. The unification into one image has here been -unsuccessful, as it were; the two representations overlap and give rise -to something like a contest between visual images. If attempt were made -to construct an idea out of individual images of perception, similar -representations might be obtained in a drawing. - -Dreams naturally abound in such compositions; several examples of these -I have given in the dreams already analysed; I shall add more. In the -dream on p. 296, which describes the career of my patient “in flowery -language,” the dream ego carries a blossoming twig in her hand, which, -as we have seen, signifies at once innocence and sexual transgression. -Moreover, the twig recalls cherry-blossoms on account of the manner in -which the blossoms are clustered; the blossoms themselves, separately -considered, are camelias, and finally the whole thing also gives the -impression of an _exotic_ plant. The common feature in the elements of -this composition is shown by the dream thoughts. The blossoming twig is -made up of allusions to presents by which she was induced or should have -been induced to show herself agreeable. So it was with the cherries in -her childhood and with the stem of camelias in her later years; the -exotic feature is an illusion to a much-travelled naturalist, who sought -to win her favour by means of a drawing of a flower. Another female -patient creates a middle element out of bath-houses at a bathing resort, -rural outside water-closets, and the garrets of our city dwellings. The -reference to human nakedness and exposure is common to the two first -elements; and we may infer from their connection with the third element -that (in her childhood) the garret was likewise the scene of exposure. A -dreamer of the male sex makes a composite locality out of two places in -which “treatment” is given—my office and the public hall in which he -first became acquainted with his wife. Another female patient, after her -elder brother has promised to regale her with caviare, dreams that his -legs are covered thick with black caviare pearls. The two elements, -“contagion” in a moral sense and the recollection of a cutaneous -eruption in childhood which made her legs look as though studded over -with red dots instead of black ones, have here been united with the -caviare pearls to form a new idea—the idea of “what she has inherited -from her brother.” In this dream parts of the human body are treated as -objects, as is usually the case in dreams. In one of the dreams reported -by Ferenczi[87] there occurred a composition made up of the person of a -physician and a horse, over which was spread a night-shirt. The common -feature in these three components was shown in the analysis after the -night-shirt had been recognised as an allusion to the father of the -dreamer in an infantile scene. In each of the three cases there was some -object of her sexual inquisitiveness. As a child she had often been -taken by her nurse to the military breeding station, where she had the -amplest opportunity to satisfy her curiosity, which was at that time -uninhibited. - -I have already asserted that the dream has no means for expressing the -relation of contradiction, of contrast, of negation. I am about to -contradict this assertion for the first time. A part of the cases, which -may be summed up under the word “contrast,” finds representation, as we -have seen, simply by means of identification—that is, when an -interchange or replacement can be connected with the contrast. We have -given repeated examples of this. Another part of the contrasts in the -dream thoughts, which perhaps falls into the category “turned into the -opposite,” is represented in the dream in the following remarkable -manner, which may almost be designated as witty. The “_inversion_” does -not itself get into the dream content, but manifests its presence there -by means of the fact that a part of the already formed dream -content which lies at hand for other reasons, is—as it were -subsequently—inverted. It is easier to illustrate this process than to -describe it. In the beautiful “Up and Down” dream (p. 267) the -representation of ascending is an inversion of a prototype in the dream -thoughts, that is to say, of the introductory scene of Daudet’s -_Sappho_; in the dream climbing is difficult at first, and easy later -on, while in the actual scene it is easy at first, and later becomes -more and more difficult. Likewise “above” and “below” in relation to the -dreamer’s brother are inverted in the dream. This points to a relation -of contraries or contrasts as obtaining between two parts of the -subject-matter of the dream thoughts and the relation we have found in -the fact that in the childish fancy of the dreamer he is carried by his -nurse, while in the novel, on the contrary, the hero carries his -beloved. My dream about Goethe’s attack upon Mr. M. (p. 345) also -contains an “inversion” of this sort, which must first be set right -before the interpretation of the dream can be accomplished. In the dream -Goethe attacks a young man, Mr. M.; in reality, according to the dream -thoughts, an eminent man, my friend, has been attacked by an unknown -young author. In the dream I reckon time from the date of Goethe’s -death; in reality the reckoning was made from the year in which the -paralytic was born. The thought determining the dream material is shown -to be an objection to the treatment of Goethe as a lunatic. “The other -way around,” says the dream; “if you cannot understand the book, it is -you who are dull-witted, not the author.” Furthermore, all these dreams -of inversion seem to contain a reference to the contemptuous phrase, “to -turn one’s back upon a person” (German: “einen die Kehrseite zeigen”; -_cf._ the inversion in respect to the dreamer’s brother in the _Sappho_ -dream). It is also remarkable how frequently inversion becomes necessary -in dreams which are inspired by repressed homosexual feelings. - -Moreover, inversion or transformation into an opposite is one of the -favourite methods of representation, and one of the methods most capable -of varied application which the dream activity possesses. Its first -function is to create the fulfilment of a wish with reference to a -definite element of the dream-thoughts. “If it were only just the other -way!” is often the best expression of the relation of the ego to a -disagreeable recollection. But inversion becomes extraordinarily useful -for the purposes of the censor, for it brings about in the material -represented a degree of disfiguration which all but paralyses our -understanding of the dream. For this reason it is always permissible, in -cases where the dream stubbornly refuses to yield its meaning, to try -the inversion of definite portions of its manifest content, whereupon -not infrequently everything becomes clear. - -Besides this inversion, the subject-matter inversion in temporal -relation is not to be overlooked. A frequent device of dream -disfigurement consists in presenting the final issue of an occurrence or -the conclusion of an argument at the beginning of the dream, or in -supplying the premises of a conclusion or the causes of an effect at the -end of it. Any one who has not considered this technical method of dream -disfigurement stands helpless before the problem of dream -interpretation.[DW] - -Indeed in some cases we can obtain the sense of the dream only by -subjecting the dream content to manifold inversion in different -directions. For example, in the dream of a young patient suffering from -a compulsion neurosis, the memory of an infantile death-wish against a -dreaded father was hidden behind the following words: _His father -upbraids him because he arrives so late._ But the context in the -psychoanalytic treatment and the thoughts of the dreamer alike go to -show that the sentence must read as follows: _He is angry at his -father_, and, further, that his father is always coming home _too early_ -(_i.e._ too soon). He would have preferred that his father should not -come home at all, which is identical with the wish (see page 219) that -his father should die. As a little boy the dreamer was guilty of sexual -aggression against another person while his father was away, and he was -threatened with punishment in the words: “Just wait until father comes -home.” - - -If we attempt to trace the relations between dream content and dream -thoughts further, we shall do this best by making the dream itself our -starting-point and by asking ourselves the question: What do certain -formal characteristics of dream representation signify with reference to -the dream thoughts? The formal characteristics which must attract our -attention in the dream primarily include variations in the distinctness -of individual parts of the dream or of whole dreams in relation to one -another. The variations in the intensity of individual dream images -include a whole scale of degrees ranging from a distinctness of -depiction which one is inclined to rate as higher—without warrant, to be -sure—than that of reality, to a provoking indistinctness which is -declared to be characteristic of the dream, because it cannot altogether -be compared to any degree of indistinctness which we ever see in real -objects. Moreover, we usually designate the impression which we get from -an indistinct object in the dream as “fleeting,” while we think of the -more distinct dream images as remaining intact for a longer period of -perception. We must now ask ourselves by what conditions in the dream -material these differences in the vividness of the different parts of -the dream content are brought about. - -There are certain expectations which will inevitably arise at this point -and which must be met. Owing to the fact that real sensations during -sleep may form part of the material of the dream, it will probably be -assumed that these sensations or the dream elements resulting from them -are emphasized by peculiar intensity, or conversely, that what turns out -to be particularly vivid in the dream is probably traceable to such real -sensations during sleep. My experience has never confirmed this. It is -incorrect to say that those elements of the dream which are the -derivatives of impressions occurring in sleep (nervous excitements) are -distinguished by their vividness from others which are based on -recollections. The factor of reality is of no account in determining the -intensity of dream images. - -Furthermore, the expectation will be cherished that the sensory -intensity (vividness) of individual dream images has a relation to the -psychic intensity of the elements corresponding to them in the -dream-thoughts. In the latter intensity is identical with psychic value; -the most intense elements are in fact the most significant, and these -are the central point of the dream. We know, however, that it is just -these elements which are usually not accepted in the dream content owing -to the censor. But still it might be possible that the elements -immediately following these and representing them might show a higher -degree of intensity, without, however, for that reason constituting the -centre of the dream representation. This expectation is also destroyed -by a comparison of the dream and the dream material. The intensity of -the elements in the one has nothing to do with the intensity of the -elements in the other; a complete “transvaluation of all psychic values” -takes place between the dream-material and the dream. The very element -which is transient and hazy and which is pushed into the background by -more vigorous images is often the single and only element in which may -be traced any direct derivative from the subject which entirely -dominated the dream-thoughts. - -The intensity of the elements of the dream shows itself to be determined -in a different manner—that is, by two factors which are independent of -each other. It is easy to see at the outset that those elements by means -of which the wish-fulfilment is expressed are most distinctly -represented. But then analysis also teaches us that from the most vivid -elements of the dream, the greatest number of trains of thought start, -and that the most vivid are at the same time those which are best -determined. No change of sense is involved if we express the latter -empirical thesis in the following form: the greatest intensity is shown -by those elements of the dream for which the most abundant condensation -activity was required. We may therefore expect that this condition and -the others imposed by the wish-fulfilment can be expressed in a single -formula. - -The problem which I have just been considering—the causes of greater or -less intensity or distinctness of individual elements of the dream—is -one which I should like to guard against being confused with another -problem, which has to do with the varying distinctness of whole dreams -or sections of dreams. In the first case, the opposite of distinctness -is blurredness; in the second, confusion. It is of course unmistakable -that the intensities rise and fall in the two scales in unison. A -portion of the dream which seems clear to us usually contains vivid -elements; an obscure dream is composed of less intense elements. But the -problem with which we are confronted by the scale, ranging from the -apparently clear to the indistinct or confused, is far more complicated -than that formed by variations in the vividness of the dream elements; -indeed the former will be dropped from the discussion for reasons which -will be given later. In isolated cases we are astonished to find that -the impression of clearness or indistinctness produced by the dream is -altogether without significance for its structure, and that it -originates in the dream material as one of its constituents. Thus I -remember a dream which seemed particularly well constructed, flawless, -and clear, so that I made up my mind, while I was still in the somnolent -state, to recognise a new class of dreams—those which had not been -subject to the mechanism of condensation and displacement, and which -might thus be designated “Fancies while asleep.” A closer examination -proved that this rare dream had the same breaches and flaws in its -construction as every other; for this reason I abandoned the category of -dream fancies. The content of the dream, reduced to its lowest terms, -was that I was reciting to a friend a difficult and long-sought theory -of bisexuality, and the wish-fulfilling power of the dream was -responsible for the fact that this theory (which, by the way, was not -stated in the dream) appeared so clear and flawless. What I considered a -judgment upon the finished dream was thus a part of the dream content, -and the essential one at that. The dream activity had extended its -operations, as it were, into waking thought, and had presented to me in -the form of a judgment that part of the dream material which it had not -succeeded in reproducing with exactness. The exact opposite of this once -came to my attention in the case of a female patient who was at first -altogether unwilling to tell a dream which was necessary for the -analysis, “because it was so obscure and confused,” and who declared, -after repeatedly denying the accuracy of her description, that several -persons, herself, her husband, and her father, had occurred in the -dream, and that it seemed as though she did not know whether her husband -was her father, or who her father was anyway, or something of that sort. -Upon considering this dream in connection with the ideas that occurred -to the dreamer in the course of the sitting, it was found unquestionably -to be concerned with the story of a servant girl who had to confess that -she was expecting a child, and who was now confronted with doubts as to -“who was really the father.”[DX] The obscurity manifested by the dream, -therefore, is again in this case a portion of the material which excited -it. A part of this material was represented in the form of the dream. -The form of the dream or of dreaming is used with astonishing frequency -to represent the concealed content. - -Comments on the dream and seemingly harmless observations about it often -serve in the most subtle manner to conceal—although they usually -betray—a part of what is dreamed. Thus, for example, when the dreamer -says: _Here the dream is vague_, and the analysis gives an infantile -reminiscence of listening to a person cleaning himself after defecation. -Another example deserves to be recorded in detail. A young man has a -very distinct dream which recalls to him phantasies from his infancy -which have remained conscious to him: he was in a summer hotel one -evening, he mistook the number of his room, and entered a room in which -an elderly lady and her two daughters were undressing to go to bed. He -continues: “_Then there are some gaps in the dream; then something is -missing_; and at the end there was a man in the room who wished to throw -me out with whom I had to wrestle.” He endeavoured in vain to recall the -content and purpose of the boyish fancy to which the dream apparently -alludes. But we finally become aware that the required content had -already been given in his utterances concerning the indistinct part of -the dream. The “gaps” were the openings in the genitals of the women who -were retiring: “Here something is missing” described the chief character -of the female genitals. In those early years he burned with curiosity to -see a female genital, and was still inclined to adhere to the infantile -sexual theory which attributes a male genital to the woman. - -All the dreams which have been dreamed in the same night belong to the -same whole when considered with respect to their content; their -separation into several portions, their grouping and number, all these -details are full of meaning, and may be considered as information coming -from the latent dream content. In the interpretation of dreams -consisting of many principal sections, or of dreams belonging to the -same night, one must not fail to think of the possibility that these -different and succeeding dreams bring to expression the same feelings in -different material. The one that comes first in time of these homologous -dreams is usually the most disfigured and most bashful, while the -succeeding is bolder and more distinct. - -Even Pharaoh’s dream in the Bible of the ears and the kine, which Joseph -interpreted, was of this kind. It is reported by Josephus (_Antiquities -of the Jews_, bk. ii. chap, iii.) in greater detail than in the Bible. -After relating the first dream, the King said: “When I had seen this -vision I awaked out of my sleep, and being in disorder, and considering -with myself what this appearance should be, I fell asleep again, and saw -another dream much more wonderful than the first, which did still more -affright and disturb me.” After listening to the report of the dream, -Joseph said, “This dream, O King, although seen under two forms, -signifies one and the same issue of things.” - -Jung,[99] who, in his _Beitrag zur Psychologie des Gerüchtes_ relates -how the veiled erotic dream of a school-girl was understood by her -friends without interpretation and continued by them with variations, -remarks in connection with reports of this dream, “that the last of a -long series of dream pictures contained precisely the same thought whose -representation had been attempted in the first picture of the series. -The censor pushed the complex out of the way as long as possible, -through constantly renewed symbolic concealments, displacements, -deviations into the harmless, &c.” (_l.c._ p. 87). Scherner[58] was well -acquainted with the peculiarities of dream disfigurement and describes -them at the end of his theory of organic stimulation as a special law, -p. 166: “But, finally, the phantasy observes the general law in all -nerve stimuli emanating from symbolic dream formations, by representing -at the beginning of the dream only the remotest and freest allusions to -the stimulating object; but towards the end, when the power of -representation becomes exhausted, it presents the stimulus or its -concerned organ or its function in unconcealed form, and in the way this -dream designates its organic motive and reaches its end.” - -A new confirmation of Scherner’s law has been furnished by Otto -Rank[106] in his work, _A Self Interpretation Dream_. This dream of a -girl reported by him consisted of two dreams, separated in time of the -same night, the second of which ended with pollution. This pollution -dream could be interpreted in all its details by disregarding a great -many of the ideas contributed by the dreamer, and the profuse relations -between the two dream contents indicated that the first dream expressed -in bashful language the same thing as the second, so that the latter—the -pollution dream—helped to a full explanation of the former. From this -example, Rank, with perfect justice, draws conclusions concerning the -significance of pollution dreams in general. - -But in my experience it is only in rare cases that one is in a position -to interpret clearness or confusion in the dream as certainty or doubt -in the dream material. Later I shall try to discover the factor in the -formation of dreams upon whose influence this scale of qualities -essentially depends. - -In some dreams, which adhere for a time to a certain situation and -scenery, there occur interruptions described in the following words: -“But then it seemed as though it were at the same time another place, -and there such and such a thing happened.” What thus interrupts the main -trend of the dream, which after a while may be continued again, turns -out to be a subordinate idea, an interpolated thought in the dream -material. A conditional relation in the dream-thoughts is represented by -simultaneousness in the dream (wenn—wann; if—when). - -What is signified by the sensation of impeded movement, which so often -occurs in the dream, and which is so closely allied to anxiety? One -wants to move, and is unable to stir from the spot; or one wants to -accomplish something, and meets one obstacle after another. The train is -about to start, and one cannot reach it; one’s hand is raised to avenge -an insult, and its strength fails, &c. We have already encountered this -sensation in exhibition dreams, but have as yet made no serious attempt -to interpret it. It is convenient, but inadequate, to answer that there -is motor paralysis in sleep, which manifests itself by means of the -sensation alluded to. We may ask: “Why is it, then, that we do not dream -continually of these impeded motions?” And we are justified in supposing -that this sensation, constantly appearing in sleep, serves some purpose -or other in representation, and is brought about by a need occurring in -the dream material for this sort of representation. - -Failure to accomplish does not always appear in the dream as a -sensation, but also simply as a part of the dream content. I believe -that a case of this sort is particularly well suited to enlighten us -about the significance of this characteristic of the dream. I shall give -an abridged report of a dream in which I seem to be accused of -dishonesty. _The scene is a mixture, consisting of a private sanatorium -and several other buildings. A lackey appears to call me to an -examination. I know in the dream that something has been missed, and -that the examination is taking place because I am suspected of having -appropriated the lost article. Analysis shows that examination is to be -taken in two senses, and also means medical examination. Being conscious -of my innocence, and of the fact that I have been called in for -consultation, I calmly follow the lackey. We are received at the door by -another lackey, who says, pointing to me, “Is that the person whom you -have brought? Why, he is a respectable man.” Thereupon, without any -lackey, I enter a great hall in which machines are standing, and which -reminds me of an Inferno with its hellish modes of punishment. I see a -colleague strapped on to one apparatus who has every reason to be -concerned about me; but he takes no notice of me. Then I am given to -understand that I may now go. Then I cannot find my hat, and cannot go -after all._ - -The wish which the dream fulfils is obviously that I may be acknowledged -to be an honest man, and may go; all kinds of subject-matter containing -a contradiction of this idea must therefore be present in the -dream-thoughts. The fact that I may go is the sign of my absolution; if, -then, the dream furnishes at its close an event which prevents me from -going, we may readily conclude that the suppressed subject-matter of the -contradiction asserts itself in this feature. The circumstance that I -cannot find my hat therefore means: “You are not an honest man after -all.” Failure to accomplish in the dream is the expression of a -contradiction, a “No”; and therefore the earlier assertion, to the -effect that the dream is not capable of expressing a negation, must be -revised accordingly.[DY] - -In other dreams which involve failure to accomplish a thing not only as -a situation but also as a sensation, the same contradiction is more -emphatically expressed in the form of a volition, to which a counter -volition opposes itself. Thus the sensation of impeded motion represents -a _conflict of will_. We shall hear later that this very motor paralysis -belongs to the fundamental conditions of the psychic process in -dreaming. Now the impulse which is transferred to motor channels is -nothing else than the will, and the fact that we are sure to find this -impulse impeded in the dream makes the whole process extraordinarily -well suited to represent volition and the “No” which opposes itself -thereto. From my explanation of anxiety, it is easy to understand why -the sensation of thwarted will is so closely allied to anxiety, and why -it is so often connected with it in the dream. Anxiety is a libidinous -impulse which emanates from the unconscious, and is inhibited by the -foreconscious. Therefore, when a sensation of inhibition in the dream is -accompanied by anxiety, there must also be present a volition which has -at one time been capable of arousing a _libido_; there must be a sexual -impulse. - -What significance and what psychic force is to be ascribed to such -manifestations of judgment as “For that is only a dream,” which -frequently comes to the surface in dreams, I shall discuss in another -place (_vide infra_, p. 390). For the present I shall merely say that -they serve to depreciate the value of the thing dreamed. An interesting -problem allied to this, namely, the meaning of the fact that sometimes a -certain content is designated in the dream itself as “dreamed”—the -riddle of the “dream within the dream”—has been solved in a similar -sense by W. Stekel[114] through the analysis of some convincing -examples. The part of the dream “dreamed” is again to be depreciated in -value and robbed of its reality; that which the dreamer continues to -dream after awakening from the dream within the dream, is what the -dream-wish desires to put in place of the extinguished reality. It may -therefore be assumed that the part “dreamed” contains the representation -of the reality and the real reminiscence, while, on the other hand, the -continued dream contains the representation of what the dreamer wished. -The inclusion of a certain content in a “dream within the dream” is -therefore equivalent to the wish that what has just been designated as a -dream should not have occurred. The dream-work utilises the dream itself -as a form of deflection. - - - (_d_) _Regard for Presentability_ - -So far we have been attempting to ascertain how the dream represents the -relations among the dream-thoughts, but we have several times extended -our consideration to the further question of what alterations the dream -material undergoes for the purposes of dream formation. We now know that -the dream material, after being stripped of the greater parts of its -relations, is subjected to compression, while at the same time -displacements of intensity among its elements force a psychic -revaluation of this material. The displacements which we have considered -were shown to be substitutions of one idea for another, the substitute -being in some way connected with the original by associations, and the -displacements were put to the service of condensation by virtue of the -fact that in this manner a common mean between two elements took the -place of these two elements in the formation of the dream. We have not -yet mentioned any other kind of displacement. But we learn from the -analyses that another exists, and that it manifests itself in a change -of the verbal expression employed for the thought in question. In both -cases we have displacement following a chain of associations, but the -same process takes place in different psychic spheres, and the result of -this displacement in the one case is that one element is substituted for -another, while in the other case an element exchanges its verbal -expression for another. - -This second kind of displacement occurring in dream formation not only -possesses great theoretical interest, but is also peculiarly well fitted -to explain the semblance of phantastic absurdity in which the dream -disguises itself. Displacement usually occurs in such a way that a -colourless and abstract expression in the dream-thought is exchanged for -one that is visual and concrete. The advantage, and consequently the -purpose, of this substitution is obvious. Whatever is visual is _capable -of representation_ in the dream, and can be wrought into situations -where the abstract expression would confront dream representation with -difficulties similar to those which would arise if a political editorial -were to be represented in an illustrated journal. But not only the -possibility of representation, but also the interests of condensation -and of the censor, can be furthered by this change. If the abstractly -expressed and unwieldy dream-thought is recast into figurative language, -this new expression and the rest of the dream material are more easily -furnished with those identities and cross references, which are -essential to the dream activity and which it creates whenever they are -not at hand, for the reason that in every language concrete terms, owing -to their evolution, are more abundant in associations than conceptual -ones. It may be imagined that in dream formation a good part of the -intermediary activity, which tries to reduce the separate dream-thoughts -to the tersest and simplest possible expression in the dream, takes -place in the manner above described—that is to say, in providing -suitable paraphrase for the individual thoughts. One thought whose -expression has already been determined on other grounds will thus exert -a separating and selective influence upon the means available for -expressing the other, and perhaps it will do this constantly throughout, -somewhat after the manner of the poet. If a poem in rhyme is to be -composed, the second rhyming line is bound by two conditions; it must -express the proper meaning, and it must express it in such a way as to -secure the rhyme. The best poems are probably those in which the poet’s -effort to find a rhyme is unconscious, and in which both thoughts have -from the beginning exercised a mutual influence in the selection of -their verbal expressions, which can then be made to rhyme by a means of -slight remodification. - -In some cases change of expression serves the purposes of dream -condensation more directly, in making possible the invention of a verbal -construction which is ambiguous and therefore suited to the expression -of more than one dream-thought. The whole range of word-play is thus put -at the service of the dream activity. The part played by words in the -formation of dreams ought not to surprise us. A word being a point of -junction for a number of conceptions, it possesses, so to speak, a -predestined ambiguity, and neuroses (obsessions, phobias) take advantage -of the conveniences which words offer for the purposes of condensation -and disguise quite as readily as the dream.[DZ] That dream conception -also profits by this displacement of expression is easily demonstrated. -It is naturally confusing if an ambiguous word is put in the place of -two ambiguous ones; and the employment of a figurative expression -instead of the sober everyday one thwarts our understanding, especially -since the dream never tells us whether the elements which it shows are -to be interpreted literally or figuratively, or whether they refer to -the dream material directly or only through the agency of interpolated -forms of speech.[EA] Several examples of representations in the dream -which are held together only by ambiguity have already been cited (“her -mouth opens without difficulty,” in the dream of Irma’s injection; “I -cannot go yet,” in the last dream reported, p. 312), &c. I shall now -cite a dream in the analysis of which the figurative expression of -abstract thought plays a greater part. The difference between such dream -interpretation and interpretation by symbolism may again be sharply -distinguished; in the symbolic interpretation of dreams the key to the -symbolism is arbitrarily chosen by the interpreter, while in our own -cases of verbal disguise all these keys are universally known and are -taken from established customs of speech. If the correct notion occurs -at the right opportunity, it is possible to solve dreams of this sort -completely or in part, independently of any statements made by the -dreamer. - -A lady, a friend of mine, dreams: _She is in the opera-house. It is a -Wagnerian performance which has lasted till 7.45 in the morning. In the -parquette and parterre there are tables, around which people dine and -drink. Her cousin and his young wife, who have just returned from their -honeymoon, sit next to her at one of these tables, and next to them sits -one of the aristocracy. Concerning the latter the idea is that the young -wife has brought him back with her from the wedding journey. It is quite -above board, just as if she were bringing back a hat from her trip. In -the midst of the parquette there is a high tower, on the top of which is -a platform surrounded by an iron grating. There, high up, stands the -conductor with the features of Hans Richter; he is continually running -around behind the grating, perspiring awfully, and from this position -conducting the orchestra, which is arranged around the base of the -tower. She herself sits in a box with a lady friend (known to me). Her -youngest sister tries to hand her from the parquette a big piece of coal -with the idea that she did not know that it would last so long and that -she must by this time be terribly cold. (It was a little as if the boxes -had to be heated during the long performance.)_ - -The dream is senseless enough, though the situation is well developed -too—the tower in the midst of the parquette from which the conductor -leads the orchestra; but, above all, the coal which her sister hands -her! I purposely asked for no analysis of this dream. With the knowledge -I have of the personal relations of the dreamer, I was able to interpret -parts of it independently. I knew that she had entertained warm feelings -for a musician whose career had been prematurely blasted by insanity. I -therefore decided to take the tower in the parquette verbally. It was -apparent, then, that the man whom she wished to see in the place of Hans -Richter _towered_ above all the other members of the orchestra. This -tower must, therefore, be designated as a composite picture formed by an -apposition; with its pedestal it represents the greatness of the man, -but with its gratings on top, behind which he runs around like a -prisoner or an animal in a cage (an allusion to the name of the -unfortunate man), it represents his later fate. “Lunatic-tower” is -perhaps the word in which both thoughts might have met. - -Now that we have discovered the dream’s method of representation, we may -try with the same key to open the second apparent absurdity,—that of the -coal which her sister hands her. “Coal” must mean “secret love.” - - “No _coal_, no _fire_ so hotly glows - As the _secret love_ which no one knows.” - -She and her friend remain seated while her younger sister, who still has -opportunities to marry, hands her up the coal “because she did not know -it would last so long.” What would last so long is not told in the -dream. In relating it we would supply “the performance”; but in the -dream we must take the sentence as it is, declare it ambiguous, and add -“until she marries.” The interpretation “secret love” is then confirmed -by the mention of the cousin who sits with his wife in the parquette, -and by the open love-affair attributed to the latter. The contrasts -between secret and open love, between her fire and the coldness of the -young wife, dominate the dream. Moreover, here again there is a person -“in high position” as a middle term between the aristocrat and the -musician entitled to high hopes. - -By means of the above discussion we have at last brought to light a -third factor, whose part in the transformation of the dream thoughts -into the dream content is not to be considered trivial; _it is the -regard for presentability_ (_German: Darstellbarkeit_) _in the peculiar -psychic material which the dream makes use of_,—that is fitness for -representation, for the most part by means of visual images. Among the -various subordinate ideas associated with the essential dream thoughts, -that one will be preferred which permits of a visual representation, and -the dream-activity does not hesitate promptly to recast the inflexible -thought into another verbal form, even if it is the more unusual one, as -long as this form makes dramatisation possible, and thus puts an end to -the psychological distress caused by cramped thinking. This pouring of -the thought content into another mould may at the same time be put at -the service of the condensation work, and may establish relations with -another thought which would otherwise not be present. This other thought -itself may perhaps have previously changed its original expression for -the purpose of meeting these relations half-way. - -In view of the part played by puns, quotations, songs, and proverbs in -the intellectual life of educated persons, it would be entirely in -accordance with our expectation to find disguises of this sort used with -extraordinary frequency. For a few kinds of material a universally -applicable dream symbolism has been established on a basis of generally -known allusions and equivalents. A good part of this symbolism, -moreover, is possessed by the dream in common with the psychoneuroses, -and with legends and popular customs. - -Indeed, if we look more closely, we must recognise that in employing -this method of substitution the dream is generally doing nothing -original. For the attainment of its purpose, which in this case is the -possibility of dramatisation without interference from the censor, it -simply follows the paths which it finds already marked out in -unconscious thought, and gives preference to those transformations of -the suppressed material which may become conscious also in the form of -wit and allusion, and with which all the fancies of neurotics are -filled. Here all at once we come to understand Scherner’s method of -dream interpretation, the essential truth of which I have defended -elsewhere. The occupation of one’s fancy with one’s own body is by no -means peculiar to, or characteristic of the dream alone. My analyses -have shown me that this is a regular occurrence in the unconscious -thought of neurotics, and goes back to sexual curiosity, the object of -which for the adolescent youth or maiden is found in the genitals of the -opposite sex, or even of the same sex. But, as Scherner and Volkelt very -appropriately declare, the house is not the only group of ideas which is -used for the symbolisation of the body—either in the dream or in the -unconscious fancies of the neurosis. I know some patients, to be sure, -who have steadily adhered to an architectural symbolism for the body and -the genitals (sexual interest certainly extends far beyond the region of -the external genital organs), to whom posts and pillars signify legs (as -in the “Song of Songs”), to whom every gate suggests a bodily opening -(“hole”), and every water-main a urinary apparatus, and the like. But -the group of associations belonging to plant life and to the kitchen is -just as eagerly chosen to conceal sexual images; in the first case the -usage of speech, the result of phantastic comparisons dating from the -most ancient times, has made abundant preparation (the “vineyard” of the -Lord, the “seeds,” the “garden” of the girl in the “Song of Songs”). The -ugliest as well as the most intimate details of sexual life may be -dreamed about in apparently harmless allusions to culinary operations, -and the symptoms of hysteria become practically unintelligible if we -forget that sexual symbolism can conceal itself behind the most -commonplace and most inconspicuous matters, as its best hiding-place. -The fact that some neurotic children cannot look at blood and raw meat, -that they vomit at the sight of eggs and noodles, and that the dread of -snakes, which is natural to mankind, is monstrously exaggerated in -neurotics, all of this has a definite sexual meaning. Wherever the -neurosis employs a disguise of this sort, it treads the paths once -trodden by the whole of humanity in the early ages of civilisation—paths -of whose existence customs of speech, superstitions, and morals still -give testimony to this day. - -I here insert the promised flower dream of a lady patient, in which I -have italicised everything which is to be sexually interpreted. This -beautiful dream seemed to lose its entire charm for the dreamer after it -had been interpreted. - -(_a_) Preliminary dream: _She goes to the two maids in the kitchen and -scolds them for taking so long to prepare “a little bite of food.” She -also sees a great many coarse dishes standing in the kitchen inverted so -that the water may drip off them, and heaped up in a pile._ Later -addition: _The two maids go to fetch water, and must, as it were, step -into a river which reaches up into the house or into the yard._[EB] - -(_b_) Main dream[EC]: _She is descending from a high place[ED] over -balustrades that are curiously fashioned or fences which are united into -big squares and consist of a conglomeration of little squares.[EE] It is -really not intended for climbing upon; she is worried about finding a -place for her foot, and she is glad her dress doesn’t get caught -anywhere, and that she remains so respectable while she is going.[EF] -She is also carrying a large bough in her hand,[EG] really a bough of a -tree, which is thickly studded with red blossoms; it has many branches, -and spreads out.[EH] With this is connected the idea of cherry blossoms, -but they look like full-bloom camelias, which of course do not grow on -trees. While she is descending, she first has one, then suddenly two, -and later again only one.[EI] When she arrives at the bottom of the -lower blossoms they have already fallen off to a considerable extent. -Now that she is at the bottom, she sees a porter who is combing—as she -would like to express it—just such a tree—that is, who is plucking thick -bunches of hair from it, which hang from it like moss. Other workmen -have chopped off such boughs in a garden, and have thrown them upon the -street, where they lie about, so that many people take some of them. But -she asks whether that is right, whether anybody may take one.[EJ] In the -garden there stands a young man_ (having a personality with which she is -acquainted, not a member of her family) _up to whom she goes in order to -ask him how it is possible to transplant such boughs into her own -garden.[EK] He embraces her, whereat she resists and asks him what he -means, whether it is permissible to embrace her in such a manner. He -says that there is no wrong in it, that it is permitted.[EL] He then -declares himself willing to go with her into the other garden, in order -to show her the transplanting, and he says something to her which she -does not correctly understand: “Besides this three metres_—(later on she -says: square metres) _or three fathoms of ground are lacking.” It seems -as though the man were trying to ask her something in return for his -affability, as though he had the intention of indemnifying himself in -her garden, as though he wanted to evade some law or other, to derive -some advantage from it without causing her an injury. She does not know -whether or not he really shows her anything._[EM] - -I must mention still another series of associations which often serves -the purpose of concealing sexual meaning both in dreams and in the -neurosis,—I refer to the change of residence series. To change one’s -residence is readily replaced by “to remove,” an ambiguous expression -which may have reference to clothing. If the dream also contains a -“lift” (elevator), one may think of the verb “to lift,” hence of lifting -up the clothing. - -I have naturally an abundance of such material, but a report of it would -carry us too far into the discussion of neurotic conditions. Everything -leads to the same conclusion, that no special symbolising activity of -the mind in the formation of dreams need be assumed; that, on the -contrary, the dream makes use of such symbolisations as are to be found -ready-made in unconscious thought, because these better satisfy the -requirements of dream formation, on account of their dramatic fitness, -and particularly on account of their exemption from the censor. - - - (_e_) _Examples—Arithmetic Speeches in the Dream_ - -Before I proceed to assign to its proper place the fourth of the factors -which control the formation of the dream, I shall cite several examples -from my collection of dreams for the purpose partly of illustrating the -co-operation of the three factors with which we are acquainted, and -partly of supplying proof for assertions which have been made without -demonstration or of drawing irrefutable inferences from them. For it has -been very difficult for me in the foregoing account of the dream -activity to demonstrate my conclusions by means of examples. Examples -for the individual thesis are convincing only when considered in -connection with a dream interpretation; when they are torn from their -context they lose their significance, and, furthermore, a dream -interpretation, though not at all profound, soon becomes so extensive -that it obscures the thread of the discussion which it is intended to -illustrate. This technical motive may excuse me for now mixing together -all sorts of things which have nothing in common but their relation to -the text of the foregoing chapter. - -We shall first consider a few examples of very peculiar or unusual -methods of representation in the dream. The dream of a lady is as -follows: _A servant girl is standing on a ladder as though to clean the -windows, and has with her a chimpanzee and a gorilla cat_ (later -corrected—angora cat). _She throws the animals at the dreamer; the -chimpanzee cuddles up to her, and this is disgusting to her._ This dream -has accomplished its purpose by the simplest possible means, namely by -taking a mere mode of speech literally and representing it according to -the meaning of its words. “Ape,” like the names of animals in general, -is an epithet of opprobrium, and the situation of the dream means -nothing but “_to hurl invectives_.” This same collection will soon -furnish us with further examples of the use of this simple artifice. - -Another dream proceeds in a very similar manner: _A woman with a child -that has a conspicuously deformed cranium; the dreamer has heard that -the child got into this condition owing to its position in its mother’s -womb. The doctor says that the cranium might be given a better shape by -means of compression, but that would harm the brain. She thinks that -because it is a boy it won’t suffer so much from deformity._ This dream -contains a plastic representation of the concept: “_Childish -impressions_,” which the dreamer has heard of in the course of -explanations concerning the treatment. - -In the following example, the dream activity enters upon a different -path. The dream contains a recollection of an excursion to the -Hilmteich, near Graz: _There is a terrible storm outside; a miserable -hotel—the water is dripping from the walls, and the beds are damp._ (The -latter part of the content is less directly expressed than I give it.) -The dream signifies “_superfluous_.” The abstract idea occurring in the -dream thoughts is first made equivocal by a certain straining of -language; it has, perhaps, been replaced by “overflowing” or by “fluid” -and “super-fluid (-fluous)” and has then been given representation by an -accumulation of like impressions. Water within, water without, water in -the beds in the form of dampness—everything fluid and “super” fluid. -That, for the purposes of the dream representation, the spelling is much -less regarded than the sound of words ought not surprise us when we -remember that rhyme exercises similar privileges. - -The fact that language has at its disposal a great number of words which -were originally intended in a picturesque and concrete sense but are at -present used in a faded abstract sense has in other cases made it very -easy for the dream to represent its thoughts. The dream need only -restore to these words their full significance, or follow the evolution -of their meaning a little way back. For example, a man dreams that his -friend, who is struggling to get out of a very tight place, calls upon -him to help him. The analysis shows that the tight place is a hole, and -that the dream uses symbolically his very words to his friend, “Be -careful, or you’ll get yourself into a hole.”[EN] Another dreamer climbs -upon a mountain from which he sees a very extraordinary broad view. He -identifies himself with his brother who is editing a “review” which -deals with relations to the Farthest East. - -It would be a separate undertaking to collect such methods of -representation and to arrange them according to the principles upon -which they are based. Some of the representations are quite witty. They -give the impression that they would have never been divined if the -dreamer himself had not reported them. - -1. A man dreams that he is asked for a name, which, however, he cannot -recall. He himself explains that this means: _It does not occur to me in -the dream._ - -2. A female patient relates a dream in which all the persons concerned -were especially big. “That means,” she adds, “that it must deal with an -episode of my early childhood, for at that time all grown up people -naturally seemed to me immensely big.” - -The transference into childhood is also expressed differently in other -dreams by translating time into space. One sees the persons and scenes -in question as if at a great distance, at the end of a long road, or as -if looked at through the wrong end of the opera-glass. - -3. A man, who in waking life shows an inclination to abstract and -indefinite expressions, but who is otherwise endowed with wit enough, -dreams in a certain connection that he is at a railroad station while a -train is coming in. But then the station platform approaches the train, -which stands still; hence an absurd inversion of the real state of -affairs. This detail is again nothing but an index to remind one that -something else in the dream should be turned about. The analysis of the -same dream brings back the recollection of a picture-book in which men -are represented standing on their heads and walking on their hands. - -4. The same dreamer on another occasion relates a short dream which -almost recalls the technique of a rebus. His uncle gives him a kiss in -an automobile. He immediately adds the interpretation, which I should -never have found: it means _Autoerotism_. This might have been made as a -joke in the waking state. - -The dream work often succeeds in representing very awkward material, -such as proper names, by means of the forced utilisation of very -far-fetched references. In one of my dreams the elder Bruecke _has given -me a task. I compound a preparation, and skim something from it which -looks like crumpled tinfoil._ (More of this later on.) The notion -corresponding to this, which was not easy to find, is “stanniol,” and -now I know that I have in mind the name of the author Stannius, which -was borne by a treatise on the nervous system of fishes, which I -regarded with awe in my youthful years. The first scientific task which -my teacher gave me was actually concerned with the nervous system of a -fish—the _Ammocœtes_. Obviously the latter name could never have been -used in a picture puzzle. - -I shall not omit here to insert a dream having a curious content, which -is also remarkable as a child’s dream, and which is very easily -explained by the analysis. A lady relates: “I can remember that when I -was a child I repeatedly dreamed, that the _dear Lord had a pointed -paper hat on his head_. They used to make me wear such a hat at table -very often, so that I might not be able to look at the plates of the -other children and see how much they had received of a particular dish. -Since I have learned that God is omniscient, the dream signifies that I -know everything in spite of the hat which I am made to wear.” - -Wherein the dream work consists, and how it manages its material, the -dream thoughts, can be shown in a very instructive manner from the -numbers and calculations which occur in dreams. Moreover, numbers in -dreams are regarded as of especial significance by superstition. I shall -therefore give a few more examples of this kind from my own collection. - -1. The following is taken from the dream of a lady shortly before the -close of her treatment: - -She wants to pay for something or other; her daughter takes 3 florins -and 65 kreuzer from her pocket-book; but the mother says: “What are you -doing? It only costs 21 kreuzer.” This bit of dream was immediately -intelligible to me without further explanation from my knowledge of the -dreamer’s circumstances. The lady was a foreigner who had provided for -her daughter in an educational institution in Vienna, and who could -continue my treatment as long as her daughter stayed in the city. In -three weeks the daughter’s school year was to end, and with that the -treatment also stopped. On the day before the dream the principal of the -institute had urged her to make up her mind to allow her child to remain -with her for another year. She had then obviously worked out this -suggestion to the conclusion that in this case she would be able to -continue the treatment for one year more. Now, this is what the dream -refers to, for a year is equal to 365 days; the three weeks that remain -before the close of the school year and of the treatment are equivalent -to 21 days (though the hours of treatment are not as many as that). The -numerals, which in the dream thoughts referred to time, are given money -values in the dream, not without also giving expression to a deeper -meaning for “time is money.” 365 kreuzer, to be sure, are _3 florins and -65 kreuzer_. The smallness of the sums which appear in the dream is a -self-evident wish-fulfilment; the wish has reduced the cost of both the -treatment and the year’s instruction at the institution. - -II. The numerals in another dream involve more complicated relations. A -young lady, who, however, has already been married a number of years, -learns that an acquaintance of hers of about her own age, Elsie L., has -just become engaged. Thereupon she dreams: _She is sitting in the -theatre with her husband, and one side of the orchestra is quite -unoccupied. Her husband tells her that Elsie L. and her husband had also -wanted to go, but that they had been able to get nothing but poor seats, -three for 1 florin and 50 kreuzer, and of course they could not take -those. She thinks that they didn’t lose much either._ - -Where do the _1 florin and 50 kreuzer_ come from? From an occurrence of -the previous day which is really indifferent. The dreamer’s -sister-in-law had received 150 florins as a present from her husband, -and had quickly got rid of them by buying some jewelry. Let us note that -150 florins is 100 times more than 1 florin and 50 kreuzer. Whence the 3 -which stands before the theatre seats? There is only one association for -this, namely, that the bride is that many months—three—younger than -herself. Information concerning the significance of the feature that one -side of the orchestra remains empty leads to the solution of the dream. -This feature is an undisguised allusion to a little occurrence which has -given her husband good cause for teasing her. She had decided to go to -the theatre during the week, and had been careful to get tickets a few -days before, for which she had to pay the pre-emption charge. When they -got to the theatre they found that one side of the house was almost -empty; she certainly did not need _to be in such a hurry_. - -I shall now substitute the dream thoughts for the dream: “It surely was -nonsense to marry so early; there was _no need for my being in such a -hurry_. From the case of Elsie L., I see that I should have got a -husband just the same—and one who is a _hundred times_ better (husband, -sweetheart, treasure)—if I had only _waited_ (antithesis to the haste of -her sister-in-law). I could have bought _three_ such men for the money -(the dowry!). Our attention is drawn to the fact that the numerals in -this dream have changed their meanings and relations to a much greater -extent than in the one previously considered. The transforming and -disfiguring activity of the dream has in this case been greater, a fact -which we interpret as meaning that these dream thoughts had to overcome -a particularly great amount of inner psychic resistance up to the point -of their representation. We must also not overlook the circumstance that -the dream contains an absurd element, namely, that _two_ persons take -_three_ seats. We digress to the interpretation of the absurdity of -dreams when we remark that this absurd detail of the dream content is -intended to represent the most strongly emphasized detail of the dream -thoughts: “It was _nonsense_ to marry so early.” The figure 3 belonging -to a quite subordinate relation of the two compared persons (three -months’ difference in age) has thus been skilfully used to produce the -nonsense demanded by the dream. The reduction of the actual 150 florins -to 1 florin and 50 kreuzer corresponds to her disdain of her husband in -the suppressed thoughts of the dreamer.” - -III. Another example displays the arithmetical powers of the dream, -which have brought it into such disrepute. A man dreams: _He is sitting -at B——’s_ (a family of his earlier acquaintance) _and says, “It was -nonsense for you not to give me Amy in marriage.” Thereupon he asks the -girl, “How old are you?” Answer: “I was born in 1882.” “Ah, then you are -28 years old.”_ - -Since the dream occurs in the year 1898, this is obviously poor -arithmetic, and the inability of the dreamer to calculate may be -compared to that of the paralytic, if there is no other way of -explaining it. My patient was one of those persons who are always -thinking about every woman they see. The person who followed him in my -office, regularly for several months, was a young lady, whom he used to -meet, about whom he used to ask frequently, and to whom he was very -anxious to be polite. This was the lady whose age he estimated at 28 -years. So much for explaining the result of the apparent calculation. -But 1882 was the year in which he had married. He had been unable to -refrain from engaging in conversation with the two females whom he met -at my house—two girls, by no means youthful, who alternately opened the -door for him, and as he did not find them very responsive, he had given -himself the explanation that they probably considered him an elderly -“settled” gentleman. - -IV. For another number dream with its interpretation,—a -dream distinguished by its obvious determination, or rather -over-determination, I am indebted to B. Dattner: - -My host, a policeman in the municipal service, dreamed that he was -standing at his post in the street, which was a wish-realisation. The -inspector then came over to him, having on his gorget the numbers 22 and -62 or 26—at all events there were many two’s on it. Division of the -number 2262 in the reproduction of the dream at once points to the fact -that the components have separate meanings. It occurs to him that the -day before, while on duty, they were discussing the duration of their -time of service. The occasion for this was furnished by an inspector who -had been pensioned at 62 years. The dreamer had only completed 22 years -of service, and still needed 2 years and 2 months to make him eligible -for a 90 per cent. pension. The dream first shows him the fulfilment of -a long wished for wish, the rank of inspector. The superior with 2262 on -his collar is himself; he takes care to do his duty on the street, which -is another preferred wish; he has served his 2 years and 2 months, and -can now be retired from the service with full pension, like the -62–year-old inspector. - -If we keep in mind these examples and similar ones (to follow), we may -say: Dream activity does not calculate at all, whether correctly or -incorrectly; it joins together in the form of a calculation numerals -which occur in the dream thoughts, and which may serve as allusions to -material which is incapable of being represented. It thus utilises -numerals as material for the expression of its purposes in the same -manner as it does names and speeches known as word presentations. - -For the dream activity cannot compose a new speech. No matter how many -speeches and answers may occur in dreams, which may be sensible or -absurd in themselves, analysis always shows in such cases that the dream -has only taken from the dream thoughts fragments of speeches which have -been delivered or heard, and dealt with them in a most arbitrary manner. -It has not only torn them from their context and mutilated them, taken -up one piece and rejected another, but it has also joined them together -in a new way, so that the speech which seems coherent in the dream falls -into three or four sections in the course of analysis. In this new -utilisation of the words, the dream has often put aside the meaning -which they had in the dream thoughts, and has derived an entirely new -meaning from them.[EO] Upon closer inspection the more distinct and -compact constituents of the dream speech may be distinguished from -others which serve as connectives and have probably been supplied, just -as we supply omitted letters and syllables in reading. The dream speech -thus has the structure of breccia stones, in which larger pieces of -different material are held together by a solidified cohesive mass. - -In a very strict sense this description is correct, to be sure, only for -those speeches in the dream which have something of the sensational -character of a speech, and which are described as “speeches.” The others -which have not, as it were, been felt as though heard or spoken (which -have no accompanying acoustic or motor emphasis in the dream) are simply -thoughts such as occur in our waking thought activity, and are -transferred without change into many dreams. Our reading, also, seems to -furnish an abundant and not easily traceable source of material for -speeches, this material being of an indifferent nature. Everything, -however, which appears conspicuously in the dream as a speech can be -referred to real speeches which have been made or heard by the dreamer -himself. - -We have already found examples for the explanation of such dream -speeches in the analysis of dreams cited for other purposes. Here is one -example in place of many, all of which lead to the same conclusion. - -_A large courtyard in which corpses are cremated. The dreamer says: “I’m -going away from here, I can’t look at this.”_ (Not a distinct speech.) -_Then he meets two butcher boys and asks: “Well, did it taste good?” One -of them answers: “No, it wasn’t good.” As though it had been human -flesh._ - -The harmless occasion for this dream is as follows: After taking supper -with his wife, the dreamer pays a visit to his worthy but by no means -appetising neighbour. The hospitable old lady is just at her evening -meal, and _urges_ him (instead of this word a composite -sexually-significant word is jocosely used among men) to taste of it. He -declines, saying that he has no appetite. “_Go on_, you can stand some -more,” or something of the kind. The dreamer is thus forced to taste and -praise what is offered. “But that’s good!” After he is alone again with -his wife, he scolds about the neighbour’s importunity and about the -quality of the food he has tasted. “I can’t stand the sight of it,” a -phrase not appearing even in the dream as an actual speech, is a thought -which has reference to the physical charms of the lady who invites him, -and which would be translated as meaning that he does not want to look -at her. - -The analysis of another dream which I cite at this point for the sake of -the very distinct speech that forms its nucleus, but which I shall -explain only when we come to consider emotions in the dream—will be more -instructive. I dream very distinctly: _I have gone to Bruecke’s -laboratory at night, and upon hearing a soft knocking at the door, I -open it to (the deceased) Professor Fleischl, who enters in the company -of several strangers, and after saying a few words sits down at his -table._ Then follows a second dream: _My friend Fl. has come to Vienna -in July without attracting much attention; I meet him on the street -while he is in conversation with my_ (deceased) _friend P., and I go -somewhere or other with these two, and they sit down opposite each other -as though at a little table, while I sit at the narrow end of the table -facing them. Fl. tells about his sister and says: “In three-quarters of -an hour she was dead,” and then something like: “That is the threshold.” -As P. does not understand him, Fl. turns to me, and asks me how much I -have told of his affairs. Whereupon, seized by strange emotions, I want -to tell Fl. that P._ (can’t possibly know anything because he) _is not -alive. But, noticing the mistake myself, I say: “Non vixit.” Then I look -at P. searchingly, and under my gaze he becomes pale and blurred, his -eyes a morbid blue—and at last he dissolves. I rejoice greatly at this; -I now understand that Ernest Fleischl, too, was only an apparition, a -revenant, and I find that it is quite possible for such a person to -exist only as long as one wants him to, and that he can be made to -disappear by the wish of another person._ - -This beautiful dream unites so many of the characteristics of the dream -content which are problematic—the criticism made in the dream itself in -that I myself notice my mistake in having said “Non vixit” instead of -“Non vivit”; the unconstrained intercourse with dead persons, whom the -dream itself declares to be dead; the absurdity of the inference and the -intense satisfaction which the inference gives me—that “by my life” I -should like to give a complete solution of these problems. But in -reality I am incapable of doing this—namely, the thing I do in the -dream—of sacrificing such dear persons to my ambition. With every -revelation of the true meaning of the dream, with which I am well -acquainted, I should have been put to shame. Hence I am content with -selecting a few of the elements of the dream, for interpretation, some -here, and others later on another page. - -The scene in which I annihilate P. by a glance forms the centre of the -dream. His eyes become strange and weirdly blue, and then he dissolves. -This scene is an unmistakable copy of one really experienced. I was a -demonstrator at the physiological institute, and began my service in the -early hours, and _Bruecke_ learned that I had been late several times in -getting to the school laboratory. So one morning he came promptly for -the opening of the class and waited for me. What he said to me was brief -and to the point; but the words did not matter at all. What overwhelmed -me was the terrible blue eyes through which he looked at me and before -which I melted away—as P. does in the dream, for P. has changed rôles -with him much to my relief. Anyone who remembers the eyes of the great -master, which were wonderfully beautiful until old age, and who has ever -seen him in anger, can easily imagine the emotions of the young -transgressor on that occasion. - -But for a long time I was unable to account for the “Non Vixit,” with -which I execute sentence in the dream, until I remembered that these two -words possessed such great distinctness in the dream, not because they -were heard or spoken, but because they were _seen_. Then I knew at once -where they came from. On the pedestal of the statue of Emperor Joseph in -the Hofburg at Vienna, may be read the following beautiful words: - - Saluti patriae _vixit - non_ diu sed totus. - -I had culled from this inscription something which suited the one -inimical train of thought in the dream thoughts and which now intended -to mean: “That fellow has nothing to say, he is not living at all.” And -I now recalled that the dream was dreamed a few days after the unveiling -of the memorial to _Fleischl_ in the arcades of the university, upon -which occasion I had again seen _Bruecke’s_ statue and must have thought -with regret (in the unconscious) how my highly gifted friend P. with his -great devotion to science had forfeited his just claim to a statue in -these halls by his premature death. So I set up this memorial to him in -the dream; the first name of my friend P. is Joseph.[EP] - -According to the rules of dream interpretation, I should still not be -justified in replacing _non vivit_, which I need, by _non vixit_, which -is placed at my disposal by the recollection of the Joseph monument. -Something now calls my attention to the fact that in the dream scene, -two trains of thought concerning my friend P. meet, one hostile, the -other friendly—of which the former is superficial, the latter veiled, -and both are given representation in the same words: _non vixit_. -Because my friend P. has deserved well of science, I erect a statue to -him; but because he has been guilty of an evil wish (which is expressed -at the end of the dream) I destroy him. I have here constructed a -sentence of peculiar resonance, and I must have been influenced by some -model. But where can I find similar antithesis, such a parallel between -two opposite attitudes towards the same person, both claiming to be -entirely valid, and yet both trying not to encroach upon each other? -Such a parallel is to be found in a single place, where, however, a deep -impression is made upon the reader—in Brutus’ speech of justification in -Shakespeare’s _Julius Cæsar_: “As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he -was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as -he was ambitious, I slew him.” Is not this which I have discovered, the -same sentence structure and thought contrast as in the dream thought? I -thus play Brutus in the dream. If I could only find in the dream -thoughts, one further trace of confirmation for this astonishing -collateral connection! I think the following might be such: My friend -comes to Vienna in _July_. This detail finds no support whatever in -reality. To my knowledge my friend has never been in Vienna during the -month of _July_. But the month of _July_ is named after _Julius Cæsar_, -and might therefore very well furnish the required allusion to the -intermediary thought that I am playing the part of Brutus.[EQ] - -Strangely enough I once actually played the part of Brutus. I presented -the scene between Brutus and Cæsar from Schiller’s poems to an audience -of children when I was a boy of fourteen years. I did this with my -nephew, who was a year older than I, and who had come to us from -England—also a _revenant_—for in him I recognised the playmate of my -first childish years. Until the end of my third year we had been -inseparable, had loved each other and scuffled with each other, and, as -I have already intimated, this childish relation has constantly -determined my later feelings in my intercourse with persons of my own -age. My nephew John has since found many incarnations, which have -revivified first one aspect, then another, of this character which is so -ineradicably fixed in my unconscious memory. Occasionally he must have -treated me very badly and I must have shown courage before my tyrant, -for in later years I have often been told of the short speech with which -I vindicated myself when my father—his grandfather—called me to account: -“I hit him because he hit me.” This childish scene must be the one which -causes _non vivit_ to branch off into _non vixit_, for in the language -of later childhood striking is called _wichsen_ (German, _wichsen_—to -smear with shoe-polish, to tan, _i.e._, to flog); the dream activity -does not hesitate to take advantage of such connections. My hostility -towards my friend P., which has so little foundation in reality—he was -far superior to me, and might therefore have been a new edition of the -playmate of my childhood—can certainly be traced to my complicated -relations with John during our infancy. I shall, however, return to this -dream later. - - - (_f_) _Absurd Dreams—Intellectual Performances in the Dream_ - -In our interpretation of dreams thus far we have come upon the element -of _absurdity_ in the dream-content so often that we must no longer -postpone an investigation of its cause and significance. We remember, of -course, that the absurdity of dreams has furnished the opponents of -dream investigation with their chief argument for considering the dream -nothing but the meaningless product of a reduced and fragmentary -activity of the mind. - -I begin with specimens in which the absurdity of the dream-content is -only apparent and immediately disappears when the dream is more -thoroughly examined. There are a few dreams which—accidentally one is at -first inclined to think—are concerned with the dead father of the -dreamer. - -I. Here is the dream of a patient who had lost his father six years -before: - -_A terrible accident has occurred to his father. He was riding in the -night train when a derailment took place, the seats came together, and -his head was crushed from side to side. The dreamer sees him lying on -the bed with a wound over his left eyebrow, which runs off vertically. -The dreamer is surprised that his father has had a misfortune (since he -is dead already, as the dreamer adds in telling his dream). His father’s -eyes are so clear._ - -According to the standards prevailing in dream criticism, this -dream-content would have to be explained in the following manner: At -first, when the dreamer is picturing his father’s misfortune, he has -forgotten that his father has already been in his grave for years; in -the further course of the dream this memory comes to life, and causes -him to be surprised at his own dream even while he is still dreaming. -Analysis, however, teaches us that it is entirely useless to attempt -such explanations. The dreamer had given an artist an order for a bust -of his father, which he had inspected two days before the dream. This is -the thing which seems to him to have met with an _accident_. The -sculptor has never seen the father, and is working from photographs -which have been given him. On the very day before the dream the pious -son had sent an old servant of the family to the studio in order to see -whether he would pass the same judgment upon the marble head, namely, -that it had turned out too _narrow from side to side_, from temple to -temple. Now follows the mass of recollections which has contributed to -the formation of this dream. The dreamer’s father had a habit, whenever -he was harassed by business cares or family difficulties, of pressing -his temples with both hands, as though he were trying to compress his -head, which seemed to grow too large for him. When our dreamer was four -years old he was present when the accidental discharge of a pistol -blackened his father’s eyes (_his eyes are so clear_). While alive his -father had had a deep wrinkle at the place where the dream shows the -injury, whenever he was thoughtful or sad. The fact that in the dream -this wrinkle is replaced by a wound points to the second occasion of the -dream. The dreamer had taken a photograph of his little daughter; the -plate had fallen from his hand, and when picked up showed a crack that -ran like a vertical furrow across the forehead and reached as far as the -orbital curve. He could not then get the better of his superstitious -forebodings, for, on the day before his mother’s death, a photographic -plate with her likeness had cracked as he was handling it. - -Thus the absurdity of the dream is only the result of an inaccuracy of -verbal expression, which does not take the trouble to distinguish the -bust and the photograph from the original. We are all accustomed to say -of a picture, “Don’t you think father is good?” Of course the appearance -of absurdity in this dream might easily have been avoided. If it were -permissible to pass judgment after a single experience, one might be -tempted to say that this semblance of absurdity is admitted or desired. - -II. Here is another very similar example from my own dreams (I lost my -father in the year 1896): - -_After his death my father has been politically active among the -Magyars, and has united them into a political body_; to accompany which -I see a little indistinct picture: _a crowd of people as in the -Reichstag; a person who is standing on one or two benches, others round -about him. I remember that he looked very like Garibaldi on his -death-bed, and I am glad that this promise has really come true._ - -This is certainly absurd enough. It was dreamed at the time that the -Hungarians got into a lawless condition, through Parliamentary -obstruction, and passed through the crisis from which Koloman Szell -delivered them. The trivial circumstance that the scene beheld in the -dream consists of such little pictures is not without significance for -the explanation of this element. The usual visual representation of our -thoughts results in pictures which impress us as being life-size; my -dream picture, however, is the reproduction of a wood-cut inserted in -the text of an illustrated history of Austria, representing Maria -Theresa in the Reichstag of Pressburg—the famous scene of “Moriamur pro -rege nostro.”[ER] Like Maria Theresa, my father, in the dream, stands -surrounded by the multitude; but he is standing on one or two benches, -and thus like a judge on the bench. (He has _united_ them—here the -intermediary is the phrase, “We shall need no _judge_.”) Those of us who -stood around the death-bed of my father actually noticed that he looked -much like Garibaldi. He had a _post-mortem_ rise of temperature, his -cheeks shone redder and redder ... involuntarily we continue: “And -behind him lay in phantom radiance that which subdues us all—the common -thing.” - -This elevation of our thoughts prepares us for having to deal with this -very “common thing.” The _post-mortem_ feature of the rise in -temperature corresponds to the words, “after his death” in the dream -content. The most agonising of his sufferings had been a complete -paralysis of the intestines (_obstruction_), which set in during the -last weeks. All sorts of disrespectful thoughts are connected with this. -A man of my own age who had lost his father while he was still at the -Gymnasium, upon which occasion I was profoundly moved and tendered him -my friendship, once told me, with derision, about the distress of a lady -relative whose father had died on the street and had been brought home, -where it turned out upon undressing the corpse, that at the moment of -death, or _post-mortem_, an evacuation of the bowels had taken place. -The daughter of the dead man was profoundly unhappy at having this ugly -detail stain her memory of her father. We have now penetrated to the -wish that is embodied in this dream. _To stand before one’s children -pure and great after one’s death_, who would not wish that? What has -become of the absurdity of the dream? The appearance of it has been -caused only by the fact that a perfectly permissible mode of speech—in -the case of which we are accustomed to ignore the absurdity that happens -to exist between its parts—has been faithfully represented in the dream. -Here, too, we are unable to deny that the semblance of absurdity is one -which is desired and has been purposely brought about.[ES] - -III. In the example which I now cite I can detect the dream activity in -the act of purposely manufacturing an absurdity for which there is no -occasion at all in the subject-matter. It is taken from the dream that I -had as a result of meeting Count Thun before my vacation trip. “_I am -riding in a one-horse carriage, and give orders to drive to a railway -station. ‘Of course I cannot ride with you on the railway line itself,’ -I say, after the driver made an objection as though I had tired him out; -at the same time it seems as though I had already driven with him for a -distance which one usually rides on the train._” For this confused and -senseless story the analysis gives the following explanation: During the -day I had hired a one-horse carriage which was to take me to a remote -street in Dornbach. The driver, however, did not know the way, and kept -on driving in the manner of those good people until I noticed the fact -and showed him the way, not sparing him a few mocking remarks withal. -From this driver a train of thought led to the aristocratic personage -whom I was destined to meet later. For the present I shall only remark -that what strikes us middle-class plebeians about the aristocracy is -that they like to put themselves in the driver’s seat. Does not Count -Thun guide the Austrian car of state? The next sentence in the dream, -however, refers to my brother, whom I identify with the driver of the -one-horse carriage. I had this year refused to take the trip through -Italy with him (“of course I cannot ride with you on the railway line -itself”), and this refusal was a sort of punishment for his wonted -complaint that I usually tired him out on this trip (which gets into the -dream unchanged) by making him take hurried trips and see too many nice -things in one day. That evening my brother had accompanied me to the -railroad station, but shortly before getting there had jumped out, at -the state railway division of the Western Station, in order to take a -train to Purkersdorf. I remarked to him that he could stay with me a -little longer, inasmuch as he did not go to Purkersdorf by the state -railway but by the Western Railway. This is how it happens that in the -dream I rode in the wagon a distance _which one usually rides on the -train_. In reality, however, it was just the opposite; I told my -brother: The distance which you ride on the state railway you could ride -in my company on the Western Railway. The whole confusion of the dream -is therefore produced by my inserting in the dream the word “wagon” -instead of “state railway,” which, to be sure, does good service in -bringing together the driver and my brother. I then find in the dream -some nonsense which seems hardly straightened out by my explanation, and -which almost forms a contradiction to my earlier speech (“Of course I -cannot ride with you on the railway line itself”). But as I have no -occasion whatever for confounding the state railway with the one-horse -carriage, I must have intentionally formed the whole puzzling story in -the dream in this way. - -But with what intention? We shall now learn what the absurdity in the -dream signifies, and the motives which admitted it or created it. The -solution of the mystery in the case in question is as follows: In the -dream I needed something absurd and incomprehensible in connection with -“riding” (Fahren) because in the dream thoughts I had a certain judgment -which required representation. On an evening at the house of the -hospitable and clever lady who appears in another scene of the same -dream as the “hostess,” I heard two riddles which I could not solve. As -they were known to the other members of the party, I presented a -somewhat ludicrous figure in my unsuccessful attempts to find a -solution. They were two equivoques turning on the words “Nachkommen” (to -come after—offspring) and “vorfahren” (to ride in advance—forefathers, -ancestry). They read as follows: - - The coachman does it - At the master’s behest; - Everyone has it, - In the grave does it rest. - (Ancestry.) - -It was confusing to find half of the second riddle identical with the -first. - - The coachman does it - At the master’s behest; - Not everyone has it, - In the cradle does it rest. - (Offspring.) - -As I had seen Count Thun ride in advance (vorfahren), so high and -mighty, and had merged into the Figaro-mood which finds the merit of -aristocratic gentlemen in the fact that they have taken the trouble to -be born (Nachkommen—to become offspring), the two riddles became -intermediary thoughts for the dream-work. As aristocrats can be readily -confounded with coachmen, and as coachmen were in our country formerly -called brothers-in-law, the work of condensation could employ my brother -in the same representation. But the dream thought at work in the -background was as follows: _It is nonsense to be proud of one’s -ancestry. (Vorfahren.) I would rather be myself an ancestor. (Vorfahr.)_ -For the sake of this judgment, “it is nonsense,” we have the nonsense in -the dream. We can now also solve the last riddle in this obscure passage -of the dream, namely, that I have already driven before (vorher -gefahren, vorgefahren) with the coachman. - -Thus the dream is made absurd if there occurs as one of the elements in -the dream thoughts the judgment “_That is nonsense_,” and in general if -disdain and criticism are the motives for one of the trains of -unconscious thought. Hence absurdity becomes one of the means by which -the dream activity expresses contradiction, as it does by reversing a -relation in the material between the dream thoughts and dream content, -and by utilising sensations of motor impediment. But absurdity in the -dream is not simply to be translated by “no”; it is rather intended to -reproduce the disposition of the dream thoughts, this being to show -mockery and ridicule along with the contradiction. It is only for this -purpose that the dream activity produces anything ridiculous. Here again -it transforms _a part of the latent content into a manifest form_.[ET] - -As a matter of fact we have already met with a convincing example of the -significance of an absurd dream. The dream, interpreted without -analysis, of the Wagnerian performance lasting until 7.45 in the -morning, in which the orchestra is conducted from a tower, &c. (see p. -316) is apparently trying to say: It is a _crazy_ world and an _insane_ -society. He who deserves a thing doesn’t get it, and he who doesn’t care -for anything has it—and in this she means to compare her fate with that -of her cousin. The fact that dreams concerning a dead father were the -first to furnish us with examples of absurdity in dreams is by no means -an accident. The conditions necessary for the creations of absurd dreams -are here grouped together in a typical manner. The authority belonging -to the father has at an early age aroused the criticism of the child, -and the strict demands he has made have caused the child to pay -particularly close attention to every weakness of the father for its own -extenuation; but the piety with which the father’s personality is -surrounded in our thoughts, especially after his death, increases the -censorship which prevents the expressions of this criticism from -becoming conscious. - -IV. The following is another absurd dream about a dead father: - -_I receive a notice from the common council of my native city concerning -the costs of a confinement in the hospital in the year 1851, which was -necessitated by an attack from which I suffered. I make sport of the -matter, for, in the first place, I was not yet alive in the year 1851, -and, in the second place, my father, to whom the notice might refer, is -already dead. I go to him in the adjoining room, where he is lying on a -bed, and tell him about it. To my astonishment he recalls that in that -year—1851—he was once drunk and had to be locked up or confined. It was -when he was working for the house of T——. “Then you drank, too?” I ask. -“You married soon after?” I figure that I was born in 1856, which -appears to me as though immediately following._ - -In view of the preceding discussion, we shall translate the insistence -with which this dream exhibits its absurdities as the sure sign of a -particularly embittered and passionate controversy in the dream -thoughts. With all the more astonishment, however, we note that in this -dream the controversy is waged openly, and the father designated as the -person against whom the satire is directed. This openness seems to -contradict our assumption of a censor as operative in the dream -activity. We may say in explanation, however, that here the father is -only an interposed person, while the conflict is carried on with another -one, who makes his appearance in the dream by means of a single -allusion. While the dream usually treats of revolt against other -persons, behind which the father is concealed, the reverse is true here; -the father serves as the man of straw to represent others, and hence the -dream dares thus openly to concern itself with a person who is usually -hallowed, because there is present the certain knowledge that he is not -in reality intended. We learn of this condition of affairs by -considering the occasion of the dream. Now, it occurred after I had -heard that an older colleague, whose judgment is considered infallible, -had expressed disapproval and astonishment at the fact that one of my -patients was then continuing psychoanalytical work with me for the fifth -year. The introductory sentences of the dream point with transparent -disguise to the fact that this colleague had for a time taken over the -duties which my father could no longer perform (_expenses, fees at the -hospital_); and when our friendly relations came to be broken I was -thrown into the same conflict of feelings which arises in the case of -misunderstanding between father and son in view of the part played by -the father and his earlier functions. The dream thoughts now bitterly -resent the reproach that I _am not making better progress_, which -extends itself from the treatment of this patient to other things. Does -this colleague know anyone who can get on faster? Does he not know that -conditions of this sort are usually incurable and last for life? What -are four or five years in comparison to a whole life, especially when -life has been made so much easier for the patient during the treatment? - -The impression of absurdity in this dream is brought about largely by -the fact that sentences from different divisions of the dream thoughts -are strung together without any reconciling transition. Thus the -sentence, _I go to him in the adjoining room, &c._, leaves the subject -dealt with in the preceding sentences, and faithfully reproduces the -circumstances under which I told my father about my marriage engagement. -Thus the dream is trying to remind me of the noble disinterestedness -which the old man showed at that time, and to put it in contrast with -the conduct of another, a new person. I now perceive that the dream is -allowed to make sport of my father for the reason that in the dream -thought he is held up as an example to another man, in full recognition -of his merit. It is in the nature of every censorship that it permits -the telling of untruth about forbidden things rather than truth. The -next sentence, in which my father remembers having _once been drunk_, -and having been _locked up for it_, also contains nothing which is -actually true of my father. The person whom he covers is here a no less -important one than the great Meynert, in whose footsteps I followed with -such great veneration, and whose attitude towards me was changed into -undisguised hostility after a short period of indulgence. The dream -recalls to me his own statement that in his youth he was addicted to the -_chloroform_ habit, and that for this he had to enter a sanatorium. It -recalls also a second experience with him shortly before his death. I -carried on an embittered literary controversy with him concerning -hysteria in the male, the existence of which he denied, and when I -visited him in his last illness and asked him how he felt, he dwelt upon -the details of his condition and concluded with the words: “You know, I -have always been one of the prettiest cases of masculine hysteria.” -Thus, to my satisfaction, and _to my astonishment_, he admitted what he -had so long and so stubbornly opposed. But the fact that in this scene I -can use my father to cover Meynert is based not upon the analogy which -has been found to exist between the two persons, but upon the slight, -but quite adequate, representation of a conditional sentence occurring -in the dream thoughts, which in full would read as follows: “Of course -if I were of the second generation, the son of a professor or of a -court-councillor, I should have _progressed more rapidly_.” In the dream -I now make a court-councillor and a professor of my father. The most -obvious and most annoying absurdity of the dream lies in the treatment -of the date 1851, which seems to me to be hardly distinguishable from -1856, as though _a difference of five years would signify nothing -whatever_. But it is just this idea of the dream thoughts which requires -expression. _Four or five years_—that is the length of time which I -enjoyed the support of the colleague mentioned at the outset; but it is -also the time during which I kept my bride waiting before I married her; -and, through a coincidence that is eagerly taken advantage of by the -dream thoughts, it is also the time during which I am now keeping one of -my best patients waiting for the completion of his cure. “_What are five -years?_” ask the dream thoughts. “_That is no time at all for me—that -doesn’t come into consideration._ I have time enough ahead of me, and -just as what you didn’t want to believe came true at last, so I shall -accomplish this also.” Besides the number 51, when separated from the -number of the century, is determined in still another manner and in an -opposite sense; for which reason it occurs in the dream again. Fifty-one -is an age at which a man seems particularly exposed to danger, at which -I have seen many of my colleagues suddenly die, and among them one who -had been appointed to a professorship a few days before, after he had -been waiting a long time. - -V. Another absurd dream which plays with figures, runs as follows: - -_One of my acquaintances, Mr. M., has been attacked in an essay by no -less a person than Goethe, with justifiable vehemence, we all think. Mr. -M. has, of course, been crushed by this attack. He complains of it -bitterly at a dinner party; but he says that his veneration for Goethe -has not suffered from this personal experience. I try to find some -explanation of the chronological relations, which seem improbable to me. -Goethe died in 1832; since his attack upon M. must of course have taken -place earlier, Mr. M. was at the time a very young man. It seems -plausible to me that he was 18 years old. But I do not know exactly what -year it is at present, and so the whole calculation lapses into -obscurity. The attack, moreover, is contained in Goethe’s well-known -essay entitled “Nature.”_ - -We shall soon find means to justify the nonsense of this dream. Mr. M., -with whom I became acquainted _at a dinner-party_, had recently -requested me to examine his brother, who showed signs of _paralytic -insanity_. The conjecture was right; the painful thing about this visit -was that the patient exposed his brother by alluding to his youthful -pranks when there was no occasion in the conversation for his doing so. -I had asked the patient to tell me the year of his birth, and had got -him to make several small calculations in order to bring out the -weakness of his memory—all of which tests he passed fairly well. I see -now that I am acting like a paralytic in the dream (_I do not know -exactly what year it is at present_). Other subject-matter in the dream -is drawn from another recent source. The editor of a medical journal, a -friend of mine, had accepted for his paper a very unfavourable, a -“_crushing_,” criticism of the last book of my friend Fl. of Berlin, the -author of which was a very _youthful_ reviewer, who was not very -competent to pass judgment. I thought I had a right to interfere, and -called the editor to account; he keenly regretted the acceptance of the -criticism, but would not promise redress. Thereupon I broke off -relations with the journal, and in my letter of resignation expressed -the hope that _our personal relations would not suffer from the -incident_. The third source of this dream is an account given by a -female patient—it was fresh in my memory at the time—of the mental -disease of her brother who had fallen into a frenzy, crying “Nature, -Nature.” The physicians in attendance thought that the cry was derived -from a reading of Goethe’s beautiful _essay_, and that it pointed to -overwork in the patient in the study of natural philosophy. I thought -rather of the sexual sense in which even less cultured people with us -use the word “Nature,” and the fact that the unfortunate man later -mutilated his genitals seemed to show that I was not far wrong. Eighteen -years was the age of this patient at the time when the attack of frenzy -occurred. - -If I add further that the book of my friend so severely criticised (“It -is a question whether the author is crazy or we are” had been the -opinion of another critic) treats of the _temporal relations of life_ -and refers the duration of Goethe’s life to the multiple of a number -significant from the point of view of biology, it will readily be -admitted that I am putting myself in the place of my friend in the -dream. (_I try to find some explanation of the chronological -relations._) But I behave like a paralytic, and the dream revels in -absurdity. This means, then, as the dream thoughts say ironically. “Of -course he is the fool, the lunatic, and you are the man of genius who -knows better. Perhaps, however, it is the other way around?” Now, this -other way around is explicitly represented in the dream, in that Goethe -has attacked the young man, which is absurd, while it is perfectly -possible even to-day for a young fellow to attack the immortal Goethe, -and in that I figure from the year of Goethe’s death, while I caused the -paralytic to calculate from the year of his birth. - -But I have already promised to show that every dream is the result of -egotistical motives. Accordingly, I must account for the fact that in -this dream I make my friend’s cause my own and put myself in his place. -My rational conviction in waking thought is not adequate to do this. -Now, the story of the eighteen-year-old patient and of the various -interpretations of his cry, “Nature,” alludes to my having brought -myself into opposition to most physicians by claiming sexual etiology -for the psychoneuroses. I may say to myself: “The same kind of criticism -your friend met with you will meet with too, and have already met with -to some extent,” and now I may replace the “he” in the dream thoughts by -“we.” “Yes, you are right; we two are the fools.” That _mea res agitur_, -is clearly shown by the mention of the short, incomparably beautiful -essay of Goethe, for it was a public reading of this essay which induced -me to study the natural science while I was still undecided in the -graduating class of the Gymnasium. - -VI. I am also bound to show of another dream in which my ego does not -occur that it is egotistic. On page 228 I mentioned a short dream in -which Professor M. says: “My son, the myopic ...”; and I stated that -this was only a preliminary dream to another one, in which I play a -part. Here is the main dream, omitted above, which challenges us to -explain its absurd and unintelligible word-formation. - -_On account of some happenings or other in the city of Rome it is -necessary for the children to flee, and this they do. The scene is then -laid before a gate, a two-winged gate in antique style (the Porta Romana -in Siena, as I know while I am still dreaming). I am sitting on the edge -of a well, and am very sad; I almost weep. A feminine person—nurse, -nun—brings out the two boys and hands them over to their father, who is -not myself. The elder of the two is distinctly my eldest son, and I do -not see the face of the other; the woman who brings the boy asks him for -a parting kiss. She is distinguished by a red nose. The boy denies her -the kiss, but says to her, extending his hand to her in parting, “Auf -Geseres,” and to both of us (or to one of us) “Auf Ungeseres.” I have -the idea, that the latter indicates an advantage._ - -This dream is built upon a tangle of thoughts induced by a play I saw at -the theatre, called _Das neue Ghetto_ (“The New Ghetto.”) The Jewish -question, anxiety about the future of my children who cannot be given a -native country of their own, anxiety about bringing them up so that they -may have the right of native citizens—all these features may easily be -recognised in the accompanying dream thoughts. - -“We sat by the waters of Babylon and wept.” Siena, like Rome, is famous -for its beautiful fountains. In the dream I must find a substitute of -some kind for Rome (_cf._ p. 163) in localities which are known to me. -Near the Porta Romana of Siena we saw a large, brightly illuminated -building, which we found to be the Manicomio, the insane asylum. Shortly -before the dream I had heard that a co-religionist had been forced to -resign a position at a state asylum which he had secured with great -effort. - -Our interest is aroused by the speech: “_Auf Geseres_”—where we might -expect, from the situation maintained throughout the dream, “_Auf -Wiedersehen_” (_Au revoir_)—and by its quite meaningless opposite, “_Auf -Ungeseres_.” - -According to information I have received from Hebrew scholars, _Geseres_ -is a genuine Hebrew word derived from the verb _goiser_, and may best be -rendered by “ordained sufferings, fated disaster.” From its use in the -Jewish jargon one might think it signified “wailing and lamentation.” -_Ungeseres_ is a coinage of my own and first attracts my attention; but -for the present it baffles me. The little observation at the end of the -dream, that _Ungeseres_ indicates an advantage over _Geseres_ opens the -way to the associations and to an explanation. The same relation holds -good with caviare; the unsalted kind[EU] is more highly prized than the -salted. Caviare to the general, “noble passions”; herein lies concealed -a joking allusion to a member of my household, of whom I hope—for she is -younger than I—that she will watch over the future of my children; this, -too, agrees with the fact that another member of my household, our -worthy nurse, is clearly indicated in the nurse (or nun) of the dream. -But a connecting link is wanting between the pair, _salted_ and -_unsalted_, and _Geseres—ungeseres_. This is to be found in _soured and -unsoured_. In their flight or exodus out of Egypt, the children of -Israel did not have time to allow their bread to be leavened, and in -memory of the event to this day they eat unsoured bread at Easter time. -Here I can also find room for the sudden notion which came to me in this -part of the analysis. I remembered how we promenaded about the city of -Breslau, which was strange to us, at the end of the Easter holidays, my -friend from Berlin and I. A little girl asked me to tell her the way to -a certain street; I had to tell her I did not know it, whereupon I -remarked to my friend, “I hope that later on in life the little one will -show more perspicacity in selecting the persons by whom she allows -herself to be guided.” Shortly afterwards a sign caught my eye: “Dr. -_Herod_, office hours....” I said to myself: “I hope this colleague does -not happen to be a children’s specialist.” Meanwhile my friend had been -developing his views on the biological significance of _bilateral_ -symmetry, and had begun a sentence as follows: “If we had but one eye in -the middle of our foreheads like _Cyclops_....” This leads us to the -speech of the professor in the preliminary dream: “My son, the -_myopic_.” And now I have been led to the chief source for _Geseres_. -Many years ago, when this son of Professor M., who is to-day an -independent thinker, was still sitting on his school-bench, he -contracted a disease of the eye, which the doctor declared gave cause -for anxiety. He was of the opinion that as long as it remained in one -eye it would not matter; if, however, it should extend to the other eye, -it would be serious. The disease healed in the one eye without leaving -any bad effects; shortly afterwards, however, its symptoms actually -appeared in the other eye. The terrified mother of the boy immediately -summoned the physician to the seclusion of her country resort. But he -took _another view_ of the matter. “_What sort of ‘Geseres’ is this you -are making?_” he said to his mother with impatience. “If one side got -well, the other side will get well too.” And so it turned out. - -And now as to the connection between this and myself and those dear to -me. The school-bench upon which the son of Professor M. learned his -first lessons has become the property of my eldest son—it was given to -his mother-into whose lips I put the words of parting in the dream. One -of the wishes that can be attached to this transference may now easily -be guessed. This school-bench is intended by its construction to guard -the child from becoming shortsighted and one-sided. Hence, myopia (and -behind the Cyclops) and the discussion about _bilateralism_. The concern -about one-sidedness is of two-fold signification; along with the bodily -one-sidedness, that of intellectual development may be referred to. Does -it not seem as though the scene in the dream, with all its madness, were -putting its negative on just this anxiety? After the child has said his -word of parting _on the one side_, he calls out its opposite on the -_other side_, as though in order to establish an equilibrium. _He is -acting, as it were, in obedience to bilateral symmetry!_ - -Thus the dream frequently has the profoundest meaning in places where it -seems most absurd. In all ages those who had something to say and were -unable to say it without danger to themselves gladly put on the cap and -bells. The listener for whom the forbidden saying was intended was more -likely to tolerate it if he was able to laugh at it, and to flatter -himself with the comment that what he disliked was obviously something -absurd. The dream proceeds in reality just as the prince does in the -play who must counterfeit the fool, and hence the same thing may be said -of the dream which Hamlet says of himself, substituting an -unintelligible witticism for the real conditions: “I am but mad -north-north-west; when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a -handsaw.”[EV] - -Thus my solution of the problem of the absurdity of dreams is that the -dream thoughts are never absurd—at least not those belonging to the -dreams of sane persons—and that the dream activity produces absurd -dreams and dreams with individual absurd elements if criticism, -ridicule, and derision in the dream thoughts are to be represented by it -in its manner of expression. My next concern is to show that the dream -activity is primarily brought about by the co-operation of the three -factors which have been mentioned—and of a fourth one which remains to -be cited—that it accomplishes nothing short of a transposition of the -dream thoughts, observing the three conditions which are prescribed for -it, and that the question whether the mind operates in the dream with -all its faculties, or only with a portion of them, is deprived of its -cogency and is inapplicable to the actual circumstances. But since there -are plenty of dreams in which judgments are passed, criticisms made, and -facts recognised, in which astonishment at some single element of the -dream appears, and arguments and explanations are attempted, I must meet -the objections which may be inferred from these occurrences by the -citation of selected examples. - -My answer is as follows: _Everything in the dream which occurs as an -apparent exercise of the critical faculty is to be regarded, not as an -intellectual accomplishment of the dream activity, but as belonging to -the material of the dream thoughts, and it has found its way from them -as a finished structure to the manifest dream content_. I may go even -further than this. Even the judgments which are passed upon the dream as -it is remembered after awakening and the feelings which are aroused by -the reproduction of the dream, belong in good part to the latent dream -content, and must be fitted into their place in the interpretation of -the dream. - -I. A striking example of this I have already given. A female patient -does not wish to relate her dream because it is too vague. She has seen -a person in the dream, and does not know whether it is her husband or -her father. Then follows a second dream fragment in which there occurs a -“manure-can,” which gives rise to the following reminiscence. As a young -housewife, she once jokingly declared in the presence of a young -relative who frequented the house that her next care would be to procure -a new manure-can. The next morning one was sent to her, but it was -filled with lilies of the valley. This part of the dream served to -represent the saying, “Not grown on your own manure.”[EW] When we -complete the analysis we find that in the dream thoughts it is a matter -of the after-effects of a story heard in youth, to the effect that a -girl had given birth to a child _concerning whom it was not clear who -was the real father_. The dream representation here goes over into the -waking thought, and allows one element of the dream thoughts to be -represented by a judgment expressed in the waking state upon the whole -dream. - -II. A similar case: One of my patients has a dream which seems -interesting to him, for he says to himself immediately after awakening: -“_I must tell that to the doctor_.” The dream is analysed, and shows the -most distinct allusion to an affair in which he had become involved -during the treatment, and of which he had decided “_to tell me -nothing_.”[EX] - -III. Here is a third example from my own experience: - -_I go to the hospital with P. through a region in which houses and -gardens occur. With this comes the idea that I have already seen this -region in dreams several times. I do not know my way very well; P. shows -me a way which leads through a corner to a restaurant (a room, not a -garden); here I ask for Mrs. Doni, and I hear that she is living in the -background in a little room with three children. I go there, and while -on the way I meet an indistinct person with my two little girls, whom I -take with me after I have stood with them for a while. A kind of -reproach against my wife for having left them there._ - -Upon awakening I feel great _satisfaction_, the cause for this being the -fact that I am now going to learn from the analysis what is meant by the -idea “_I have already dreamed of that_.”[EY] But the analysis of the -dream teaches me nothing on the subject; it only shows me that the -satisfaction belongs to the latent dream content, and not to my judgment -upon the dream. It is _satisfaction over the fact that I have had -children by my marriage_. P. is a person in whose company I walked the -path of life for a certain space, but who has since far outdistanced me -socially and materially—whose marriage, however, has remained childless. -The two occasions for the dream furnishing the proof of this may be -found by means of complete analysis. On the previous day I had read in -the paper the obituary notice of a certain Mrs. Dona A——y (out of which -I make Doni), who had died in childbirth; I was told by my wife that the -dead woman had been nursed by the same midwife she herself had had at -the birth of our two youngest boys. The name Dona had caught my -attention, for I had recently found it for the first time in an English -novel. The other occasion for the dream may be found in the date on -which it was dreamed; it was on the night before the birthday of my -eldest boy, who, it seems, is poetically gifted. - -IV. The same satisfaction remained with me after awakening from the -absurd dream that my father, after his death, had played a political -part among the Magyars, and it is motivated by a continuance of the -feeling which accompanied the last sentence of the dream: “_I remember -that on his death-bed he looked so much like Garibaldi, and I am glad -that it has really come true. (Here belongs a forgotten continuation.)_” -I can now supply from the analysis what belongs in this gap of the -dream. It is the mention of my second boy, to whom I have given the -first name of a great historical personage, who attracted me powerfully -during my boyhood, especially during my stay in England. I had to wait -for a year after making up my mind to use this name in case the expected -child should be a son, and I greeted him with it _in high satisfaction_ -as soon as he was born. It is easy to see how the father’s lust for -greatness is transferred in his thoughts to his children; it will -readily be believed that this is one of the ways in which the -suppression of this lust which becomes necessary in life is brought -about. The little fellow won a place in the text of this dream by virtue -of the fact that the same accident—quite pardonable in a child or a -dying person—of soiling his clothes had happened to him. With this may -be compared the allusion “_Stuhlrichter_” (judge on the stool-bench, -_i.e._ presiding judge) and the wish of the dream: To stand before one’s -children great and pure. - -V. I am now called upon to find expressions of judgment which remain in -the dream itself, and are not retained in or transferred to our waking -thoughts, and I shall consider it a great relief if I may find examples -in dreams, which have already been cited for other purposes. The dream -about Goethe’s attacking Mr. M. seems to contain a considerable number -of acts of judgment. _I try to find some explanation of the -chronological relations, which seem improbable to me._ Does not this -look like a critical impulse directed against the nonsensical idea that -Goethe should have made a literary attack upon a young man of my -acquaintance? “_It seems plausible to me_ that he was 18 years old.” -That sounds quite like the result of a dull-witted calculation; and “_I -do not know exactly what year it is_” would be an example of uncertainty -or doubt in the dream. - -But I know from analysis that these acts of judgment, which seem to have -been performed in the dream for the first time, admit of a different -construction in the light of which they become indispensable for -interpreting the dream, and at the same time every absurdity is avoided. -With the sentence, “_I try to find some explanation of the chronological -relations_,” I put myself in the place of my friend who is actually -trying to explain the chronological relations of life. The sentence then -loses its significance as a judgment that objects to the nonsense of the -previous sentences. The interposition, “_which seems improbable to me_,” -belongs to the subsequent “_it seems plausible to me_.” In about the -same words I had answered the lady who told me the story of her -brother’s illness: “_It seems improbable to me_ that the cry of ‘Nature, -Nature,’ had anything to do with Goethe; _it appears much more -plausible_ that it had the sexual significance which is known to you.” -To be sure, a judgment has been passed here, not, however, in the dream -but in reality, on an occasion which is remembered and utilised by the -dream thoughts. The dream content appropriates this judgment like any -other fragment of the dream thoughts. - -The numeral 18, with which the judgment in the dream is meaninglessly -connected, still preserves a trace of the context from which the real -judgment was torn. Finally, “_I am not certain what year it is_” is -intended for nothing else than to carry out my identification with the -paralytic, in the examination of whom this point of confirmation had -actually been established. - -In the solution of these apparent acts of judgment, in the dream, it may -be well to call attention to the rule of interpretation which says that -the coherence which is fabricated in the dream between its constituent -parts is to be disregarded as specious and unessential, and that every -dream element must be taken by itself and traced to its source. The -dream is a conglomeration, which is to be broken up into its elements -for the purposes of investigation. But other circumstances call our -attention to the fact that a psychic force is expressed in dreams which -establishes this apparent coherence—that is to say, which subjects the -material that is obtained by the dream activity to a _secondary -elaboration_. We are here confronted with manifestations of this force, -upon which we shall later fix our attention as being the fourth of the -factors which take part in the formation of the dream. - -VI. I select other examples of critical activity in the dreams which -have already been cited. In the absurd dream about the communication -from the common council I ask the question: “_You married shortly after? -I figure that I was born in 1856, which appears to me as though -following immediately_.” This quite takes the form of an _inference_. My -father married shortly after his attack in the year 1851; I am the -oldest son, born in 1856; this agrees perfectly. We know that this -inference has been interpolated by the wish-fulfilment, and that the -sentence which dominates the dream thoughts is to the following effect: -_4 or 5 years, that is no time at all, that need not enter the -calculation_. But every part of this chain of inferences is to be -determined from the dream thoughts in a different manner, both as to its -content and as to its form. It is the patient—about whose endurance my -colleague complains—who intends to marry immediately after the close of -the treatment. The manner in which I deal with my father in the dream -recalls an _inquest_ or _examination_, and with that the person of a -university instructor who was in the habit of taking a complete list of -credentials at the enrolment of his class: “You were born when?” In -1856. “Patre?” Then the applicant gave the first name of his father with -a Latin ending, and we students assumed that the Aulic Councillor drew -_inferences_ from the first name of the father which the name of the -enrolled student would not always have supplied. According to this, the -_drawing of inferences_ in the dream would be merely a repetition of the -_drawing of inferences_ which appears as part of the subject-matter in -the dream thoughts. From this we learn something new. If an inference -occurs in the dream content, it invariably comes from the dream -thoughts; it may be contained in these as a bit of remembered material, -or it may serve as a logical connective in a series of dream thoughts. -In any case an inference in the dream represents an inference in the -dream thoughts.[EZ] - -The analysis of this dream should be continued here. With the inquest of -the Professor there is connected the recollection of an index (published -in Latin during my time) of the university students; also of my course -of studies. The _five years_ provided for the study of medicine were as -usual not enough for me. I worked along unconcernedly in the succeeding -years; in the circle of my acquaintances I was considered a loafer, and -there was doubt as to whether I would “get through.” Then all at once I -decided to take my examinations; and I got “through,” _in spite of the -postponement_. This is a new confirmation of the dream thoughts, which I -defiantly hold up to my critics: “Even though you are unwilling to -believe it, because I take my time, I shall reach a conclusion (German -_Schluss_, meaning either end or conclusion, _inference_). It has often -happened that way.” - -In its introductory portion this dream contains several sentences which -cannot well be denied the character of an argumentation. And this -argumentation is not at all absurd; it might just as well belong to -waking thought. _In the dream I make sport of the communication of the -Common Council, for in the first place I was not yet in the world in -1851, and in the second place, my father, to whom it might refer, is -already dead._ Both are not only correct in themselves, but coincide -completely with the arguments that I should use in case I should receive -a communication of the sort mentioned. We know from our previous -analysis that this dream has sprung from deeply embittered and scornful -dream thoughts; if we may assume further that the motive for censorship -is a very strong one, we shall understand that the dream activity has -every reason to create _a flawless refutation of a baseless insinuation_ -according to the model contained in the dream thoughts. But analysis -shows that in this case the dream activity has not had the task of -making a free copy, but it has been required to use subject-matter from -the dream thoughts for its purpose. It is as if in an algebraic equation -there occurred plus and minus signs, signs of powers and of roots, -besides the figures, and as if someone, in copying this equation without -understanding it, should take over into his copy the signs of operation -as well as the figures, and fail to distinguish between the two kinds. -The two arguments may be traced to the following material. It is painful -for me to think that many of the assumptions upon which I base my -solution of psychoneuroses, as soon as they have become known, will -arouse scepticism and ridicule. Thus I must maintain that impressions -from the second year of life, or even from the first, leave a lasting -trace upon the temperament of persons who later become diseased, and -that these impressions—greatly distorted it is true, and exaggerated by -memory—are capable of furnishing the original and fundamental basis of -hysterical symptoms. Patients to whom I explain this in its proper place -are in the habit of making a parody upon the explanation by declaring -themselves willing to look for reminiscences of the period _when they -were not yet alive_. It would quite accord with my expectation, if -enlightenment on the subject of the unsuspected part played by the -father in the earliest sexual impulses of feminine patients should get a -similar reception. (_Cf._ the discussion on p. 218.) And, nevertheless, -both positions are correct according to my well-founded conviction. In -confirmation I recall certain examples in which the death of the father -happened when the child was very young, and later events, otherwise -inexplicable, proved that the child had unconsciously preserved -recollections of the persons who had so early gone out of its life. I -know that both of my assertions are based upon _inferences_ the validity -of which will be attacked. If the subject-matter of these very -inferences which I fear will be contested is used by the dream activity -for setting up _incontestable inferences_, this is a performance of the -wish-fulfilment. - -VII. In a dream which I have hitherto only touched upon, astonishment at -the subject to be broached is distinctly expressed at the outset. - -“_The elder Bruecke must have given me some task or other; strangely -enough it relates to the preparation of my own lower body, pelvis and -legs, which I see before me as though in the dissecting room, but -without feeling my lack of body and without a trace of horror. Louise N. -is standing near, and doing her work next to me. The pelvis is -eviscerated; now the upper, now the lower view of the same is seen, and -the two views mingle. Thick fleshy red lumps (which even in the dream -make me think of hæmorrhoids) are to be seen. Also something had to be -carefully picked out, which lay over these and which looked like -crumpled tinfoil.[FA] Then I was again in possession of my legs and made -a journey through the city, but took a wagon (owing to my fatigue). To -my astonishment the wagon drove into a house door, which opened and -allowed it to pass into a passage that was snapped off at the end, and -finally led further on into the open.[FB] At last I wandered through -changing landscapes with an Alpine guide, who carried my things. He -carried, me for some way, out of consideration for my tired legs. The -ground was muddy, and we went along the edge; people sat on the ground, -a girl among them, like Indians or Gypsies. Previously I had moved -myself along on the slippery ground, with constant astonishment that I -was so well able to do it after the preparation. At last we came to a -small wooden house which ended in an open window. Here the guide set me -down, and laid two wooden boards which stood in readiness on the window -sill, in order that in this way the chasm might be bridged which had to -be crossed in order to get to the window. Now, I grew really frightened -about my legs. Instead of the expected crossing, I saw two grown-up men -lying upon wooden benches which were on the walls of the hut, and -something like two sleeping children next to them. It seems as though -not the boards but the children were intended to make possible the -crossing. I awakened with frightened thoughts._” - -Anyone who has formed a proper idea of the abundance of dream -condensation will easily be able to imagine how great a number of pages -the detailed analysis of this dream must fill. Luckily for the context, -I shall take from it merely the one example of astonishment, in the -dream, which makes its appearance in the parenthetical remark, -“_strangely enough_.” Let us take up the occasion of the dream. It is a -visit of this lady, Louise N., who assists at the work in the dream. She -says: “Lend me something to read.” I offer her _She_, by Rider Haggard. -“A _strange_ book, but full of hidden sense,” I try to explain to her; -“the eternal feminine, the immortality of our emotions——” Here she -interrupts me: “I know that book already. Haven’t you something of your -own?” “No, my own immortal works are still unwritten.” “Well, when are -you going to publish your so-called latest revelations which you -promised us would be good reading?” she asks somewhat sarcastically. I -now perceive that she is a mouthpiece for someone else, and I become -silent. I think of the effort it costs me to publish even my work on the -Dream, in which I have to surrender so much of my own intimate -character. “The best that you know you can’t tell to the children.” The -preparation of _my own body_, which I am ordered to make in the dream, -is thus the _self-analysis_ necessitated in the communication of my -dreams. The elder Bruecke very properly finds a place here; in these -first years of my scientific work it happened that I neglected a -discovery, until his energetic commands forced me to publish it. But the -other trains of thought which start from my conversation with Louise N. -go too deep to become conscious; they are side-tracked by way of the -related material which has been awakened in me by the mention of Rider -Haggard’s _She_. The comment “strangely enough” goes with this book, and -with another by the same author, _The Heart of the World_, and numerous -elements of the dream are taken from these two fantastic novels. The -muddy ground over which the dreamer is carried, the chasm which must be -crossed by means of the boards that have been brought along, come from -_She_; the Indians, the girl, and the wooden house, from the _Heart of -the World_. In both novels a woman is the leader, both treat of -dangerous wanderings; _She_ has to do with an adventurous journey to the -undiscovered country, a place almost untrodden by foot of man. According -to a note which I find in my record of the dream, the fatigue in my legs -was a real sensation of those days. Doubtless in correspondence with -this came a tired frame of mind and the doubting question: “How much -further will my legs carry me?” The adventure in _She_ ends with the -woman leader’s meeting her death in the mysterious fire at the centre of -the earth, instead of attaining immortality for herself and others. A -fear of this sort has unmistakably arisen in the dream thoughts. The -“wooden house,” also, is surely the coffin—that is, the grave. But the -dream activity has performed its masterpiece in representing this most -unwished-for of all thoughts by means of a wish-fulfilment. I have -already once been in a grave, but it was an empty Etruscan grave near -Orvieto—a narrow chamber with two stone benches on the walls, upon which -the skeletons of two grown-up persons had been laid. The interior of the -wooden house in the dream looks exactly like this, except that wood has -been substituted for stone. The dream seems to say: “If you must so soon -lie in your grave, let it be this Etruscan grave,” and by means of this -interpolation it transforms the saddest expectation into one that is -really to be desired. As we shall learn, it is, unfortunately, only the -idea accompanying an emotion which the dream can change into its -opposite, not usually the emotion itself. Thus I awake with “frightened -thoughts,” even after the dream has been forced to represent my -idea—that perhaps the children will attain what has been denied to the -father—a fresh allusion to the strange novel in which the identity of a -person is preserved through a series of generations covering two -thousand years. - -VIII. In the context of another dream there is a similar expression of -astonishment at what is experienced in the dream. This, however, is -connected with a striking and skilfully contrived attempt at explanation -which might well be called a stroke of genius—so that I should have to -analyse the whole dream merely for the sake of it, even if the dream did -not possess two other features of interest. I am travelling during the -night between the eighteenth and the nineteenth of July on the Southern -Railway, and in my sleep I hear someone call out: _“Hollthurn, 10 -minutes.” I immediately think of Holothurian—of a museum of natural -history—that here is a place where brave men have vainly resisted the -domination of their overlord. Yes, the counter reformation in Austria! -As though it were a place in Styria or the Tyrol. Now I distinctly see a -little museum in which the remains or the possessions of these men are -preserved. I wish to get off, but I hesitate to do so. Women with fruit -are standing on the platform; they crouch on the floor, and in that -position hold out their baskets in an inviting manner. I hesitate, in -doubt whether we still have time, but we are still standing. I am -suddenly in another compartment in which the leather and the seats are -so narrow that one’s back directly touches the back rest.[FC] I am -surprised at this, but I may have changed cars while asleep. Several -people, among them an English brother and sister; a row of books -distinctly on a shelf on the wall. I see_ The Wealth of Nations, _then_ -Matter and Motion (_by Maxwell_)—_the books are thick and bound in brown -linen. The man asks his sister for a book by Schiller, and whether she -has forgotten it. These are books which first seem mine, then seem to -belong to the brother and sister. At this point I wish to join in the -conversation in order to confirm and support what is being said——._ I -awaken sweating all over my body, because all the windows are shut. The -train stops at Marburg. - -While writing down the dream, a part of it occurs to me which my memory -wished to omit. _I say to the brother and sister about a certain work: -“It is from ...” but I correct myself: “It is by ...” The man remarks to -his sister: “He said it correctly.”_ - -The dream begins with the name of a station, which probably must have -partially awakened me. For this name, which was Marburg, I substituted -Hollthurn. The fact that I heard Marburg when it was first called, or -perhaps when it was called a second time, is proved by the mention in -the dream of Schiller, who was born in Marburg, though not in the one in -Styria.[FD] Now this time, although I was travelling first-class, it was -under very disagreeable circumstances. The train was overcrowded; I had -met a gentleman and lady in my compartment who seemed persons of -quality, but who did not have the good breeding or who did not think it -worth while to conceal their displeasure at my intrusion. My polite -salutation was not answered, and although the man and the woman sat next -each other (with their backs in the direction in which we were riding), -the woman made haste to pre-empt the place opposite her and next the -window with her umbrella; the door was immediately closed and -demonstrative remarks about the opening of windows were exchanged. -Probably I was quickly recognised as a person hungry for fresh air. It -was a hot night, and the air in the compartment, thus shut on all sides, -was almost suffocating. My experience as a traveller leads me to believe -that such inconsiderate, obtrusive conduct marks people who have only -partly paid for their tickets, or not at all. When the conductor came, -and I presented my dearly bought ticket, the lady called out -ungraciously, and as though threateningly: “My husband has a pass.” She -was a stately figure with sour features, in age not far from the time -set for the decay of feminine beauty; the man did not get a chance to -say anything at all, and sat there motionless. I tried to sleep. In the -dream I take terrible revenge on my disagreeable travelling companions; -no one would suspect what insults and humiliations are concealed behind -the disjointed fragments of the first half of the dream. After this -desire has been satisfied, the second wish, to exchange my compartment -for another, makes itself evident. The dream makes changes of scene so -often, and without raising the least objection to such changes, that it -would not have been in the least remarkable if I had immediately -replaced my travelling companions by more pleasant ones for my -recollection. But this was one of the cases where something or other -objected to the change of scene and considered explanation of the change -necessary. How did I suddenly get into another compartment? I surely -could not remember having changed cars. So there was only one -explanation: _I must have left the carriage while asleep_, a rare -occurrence, examples for which, however, are furnished by the experience -of the neuropathologist. We know of persons who undertake railroad -journeys in a crepuscular state without betraying their abnormal -condition by any sign, until some station on the journey they completely -recover consciousness, and are then surprised at the gap in their -memory. Thus, while I am still dreaming, I declare my own case to be -such a one of “_Automatisme ambulatoire_.” - -Analysis permits another solution. The attempt at explanation, which so -astounds me if I am to attribute it to the dream activity, is not -original, but is copied from the neurosis of one of my patients. I have -already spoken on another page of a highly cultured and, in conduct, -kind-hearted man, who began, shortly after the death of his parents, to -accuse himself of murderous inclinations, and who suffered because of -the precautionary measures he had to take to insure himself against -these inclinations. At first walking along the street was made painful -for him by the compulsion impelling him to demand an accounting of all -the persons he met as to whither they had vanished; if one of them -suddenly withdrew from his pursuing glance, there remained a painful -feeling and a thought of the possibility that he might have put the man -out of the way. This compulsive idea concealed, among other things, a -Cain-fancy, for “all men are brothers.” Owing to the impossibility of -accomplishing his task, he gave up taking walks and spent his life -imprisoned within his four walls. But news of murderous acts which have -been committed outside constantly reached his room through the papers, -and his conscience in the form of a doubt kept accusing him of being the -murderer. The certainty of not having left his dwelling for weeks -protected him against these accusations for a time, until one day there -dawned upon him the possibility that he might have left _his house while -in an unconscious condition_, and might thus have committed the murder -without knowing anything about it. From that time on he locked his house -door, and handed the key over to his old housekeeper, and strictly -forbade her to give it into his hands even if he demanded it. - -This, then, is the origin of the attempted explanation, that I may have -changed carriages while in an unconscious condition—it has been -transferred from the material of the dream thoughts to the dream in a -finished state, and is obviously intended to identify me with the person -of that patient. My memory of him was awakened by an easy association. I -had made my last night journey with this man a few weeks before. He was -cured, and was escorting me into the country, to his relatives who were -summoning me; as we had a compartment to ourselves, we left all the -windows open through the night, and, as long as I had remained awake, we -had a delightful conversation. I knew that hostile impulses towards his -father from the time of his childhood, in connection with sexual -material, had been at the root of his illness. By identifying myself -with him, I wanted to make an analogous confession to myself. The second -scene of the dream really resolves itself into a wanton fancy to the -effect that my two elderly travelling companions had acted so uncivilly -towards me for the reason that my arrival prevented them from exchanging -love-tokens during the night as they had intended. This fancy, however, -goes back to an early childhood scene in which, probably impelled by -sexual inquisitiveness, I intruded upon the bedroom of my parents, and -was driven from it by my father’s emphatic command. - -I consider it superfluous to multiply further examples. All of them -would confirm what we have learned from those which have been already -cited, namely, that an act of judgment in the dream is nothing but the -repetition of a prototype which it has in the dream thoughts. In most -cases it is an inappropriate repetition introduced in an unfitting -connection; occasionally, however, as in our last example, it is so -artfully disposed that it may give the impression of being an -independent thought activity in the dream. At this point we might turn -our attention to that psychic activity which indeed does not seem to -co-operate regularly in the formation of dreams, but whose effort it is, -wherever it does co-operate, to fuse together those dream elements that -are incongruent on account of their origins in an uncontradictory and -intelligible manner. We consider it best, however, first to take up the -expressions of emotion which appear in the dream, and to compare them -with the emotions which analysis reveals to us in the dream thoughts. - - - (_g_) _The Affects in the Dream._ - -A profound remark of Stricker’s[77] has called our attention to the fact -that the expressions of emotion in the dream do not permit of being -disposed of in the slighting manner in which we are accustomed to shake -off the dream itself, after we have awakened. “If I am afraid of robbers -in the dream, the robbers, to be sure, are imaginary, but the fear of -them is real,” and the same is true if I am glad in the dream. According -to the testimony of our feelings, the emotion experienced in the dream -is in no way less valid than one of like intensity experienced in waking -life, and the dream makes its claim to be taken up as a part of our real -mental experiences, more energetically on account of its emotional -content than on account of its ideal content. We do not succeed in -accomplishing this separation in waking life, because we do not know how -to estimate an emotion psychically except in connection with a -presentation content. If in kind or in intensity an affect and an idea -are incongruous, our waking judgment becomes confused. - -The fact that in dreams the presentation content does not entail the -affective influence which we should expect as necessary in waking -thought has always caused astonishment. Strümpell was of the opinion -that ideas in the dream are stripped of their psychic values. But -neither does the dream lack opposite instances, where the expression of -intense affect appears in a content, which seems to offer no occasion -for its development. I am in a horrible, dangerous, or disgusting -situation in the dream, but I feel nothing of fear or aversion; on the -other hand, I am sometimes terrified at harmless things and glad at -childish ones. - -This enigma of the dream disappears more suddenly and more completely -than perhaps any other of the dream problems, if we pass from the -manifest to the latent content. We shall then no longer be concerned to -explain it, for it will no longer exist. Analysis teaches us _that -presentation contents have undergone displacements and substitutions, -while affects have remained unchanged_. No wonder, then, that the -presentation content which has been altered by dream disfigurement no -longer fits the affect that has remained intact; but there is no cause -for wonder either after analysis has put the correct content in its -former place. - -In a psychic complex which has been subjected to the influence of the -resisting censor the affects are the unyielding constituent, which alone -is capable of guiding us to a correct supplementation. This state of -affairs is revealed in psychoneuroses even more distinctly than in the -dream. Here the affect is always in the right, at least as far as its -quality goes; its intensity may even be increased by means of a -displacement of neurotic attention. If a hysteric is surprised that he -is so very afraid of a trifle, or if the patient with compulsive ideas -is astonished that he develops such painful self-reproach out of a -nonentity, both of them err in that they regard the presentation -content—the trifle or the nonentity—as the essential thing, and they -defend themselves in vain because they make this presentation content -the starting point in their thought. Psychoanalysis, however, shows them -the right way by recognising that, on the contrary, the affect is -justified, and by searching for the presentation which belongs to it and -which has been suppressed by means of replacement. The assumption is -here made that the development of affect and the presentation content do -not constitute such an indissoluble organic union as we are accustomed -to think, but that the two parts may be, so to speak, soldered together -in such a way that they may be detached from one another by means of -analysis. Dream interpretation shows that this is actually the case. - -I give first an example in which analysis explains the apparent absence -of affect in a presentation content which ought to force a development -of emotion. - -I. _The dreamer sees three lions in a desert, one of which is laughing, -but she is not afraid of them. Then, however, she must have fled from -them, for she is trying to climb a tree, but she finds that her cousin, -who is a teacher of French, is already up in the tree, &c._ - -The analysis gives us the following material for this dream: A sentence -in the dreamer’s English lesson had become the indifferent occasion for -it: “The _lion’s_ greatest beauty is his mane.” Her father wore a beard -which surrounded his face like a mane. The name of her English teacher -was Miss _Lyons_. An acquaintance of hers had sent her the ballads of -_Loewe_ (German, Loewe—lion). These, then, are the three lions; why -should she have been afraid of them? She has read a story in which a -negro who has incited his fellows to revolt is hunted with bloodhounds -and climbs a tree to save himself. Then follow fragments in wanton mood, -like the following. Directions for catching lions from _Die Fliegende -Blaetter_: “Take a desert and strain it; the lions will remain.” Also a -very amusing, but not very proper anecdote about an official who is -asked why he does not take greater pains to win the favour of his -superior officer, and who answers that he has been trying to insinuate -himself, but that the man ahead of him _is already up_. The whole matter -becomes intelligible as soon as one learns that on the day of the dream -the lady had received a visit from her husband’s superior. He was very -polite to her, kissed her hand, and _she was not afraid of him at all_, -although he is a “big bug” (German—_Grosses Tier_ = “big animal”) and -plays the part of a “social lion” in the capital of her country. This -lion is, therefore, like the lion in the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, who -unmasks as Snug, the joiner, and of such stuff are all dream lions made -when one is not afraid. - -II. As my second example, I cite the dream of the girl who saw her -sister’s little son lying dead in a coffin, but who, I may now add, felt -no pain or sorrow thereat. We know from analysis why not. The dream only -concealed her wish to see the man she loved again; the affect must be -attuned to the wish, and not to its concealment. There was no occasion -for sorrow at all. - -In a number of dreams the emotion at least remains connected with that -presentation content which has replaced the one really belonging to it. -In others the breaking up of the complex is carried further. The affect -seems to be entirely separated from the idea belonging to it, and finds -a place somewhere else in the dream where it fits into the new -arrangement of the dream elements. This is similar to what we have -learned of acts of judgment of the dream. If there is a significant -inference in the dream thoughts, the dream also contains one; but in the -dream the inference may be shifted to entirely different material. Not -infrequently this shifting takes place according to the principle of -antithesis. - -I illustrate the latter possibility by the following dream, which I have -subjected to the most exhaustive analysis. - -III. _A castle by the sea; afterwards it lies not directly on the sea, -but on a narrow canal that leads to the sea. A certain Mr. P. is the -governor of it. I stand with him in a large salon with three windows, in -front of which rise the projections of a wall, like battlements of a -fort. I belong to the garrison, perhaps as a volunteer marine officer. -We fear the arrival of hostile warships, for we are in a state of war. -Mr. P. has the intention of leaving; he gives me instructions as to what -must be done in case the dreaded event happens. His sick wife is in the -threatened castle with her children. As soon as the bombardment begins -the large hall should be cleared. He breathes heavily, and tries to get -away; I hold him back, and ask him in what way I should send him news in -case of need. He says something else, and then all at once falls over -dead. I have probably taxed him unnecessarily with my questions. After -his death, which makes no further impression upon me, I think whether -the widow is to remain in the castle, whether I should give notice of -the death to the commander-in-chief, and whether I should take over the -direction of the castle as the next in command. I now stand at the -window, and muster the ships as they pass by; they are merchantmen that -dart past upon the dark water, several of them with more than one -smokestack, others with bulging decks_ (that are quite similar to the -railway stations in the preliminary dream which has not been told). -_Then my brother stands next to me, and both of us look out of the -window on to the canal. At the sight of a ship we are frightened, and -call out: “Here comes the warship!” It turns out, however, that it is -only the same ships which I have already known that are returning. Now -comes a little ship, strangely cut off, so that it ends in the middle of -its breadth; curious things like cups or salt-cellars are seen on the -deck. We call as though with one voice: “That is the breakfast-ship.”_ - -The rapid motion of the ships, the deep blue of the water, the brown -smoke of the funnels, all this together makes a highly tense, sombre -impression. - -The localities in this dream are put together from several journeys to -the Adriatic Sea (Miramare, Duino, Venice, Aquileja). A short but -enjoyable Easter trip to Aquileja with my brother, a few weeks before -the dream, was still fresh in my memory. Besides, the naval war between -America and Spain, and the worry connected with it about my relatives -living in America, play a part. Manifestations of emotion appear at two -places in this dream. In one place an emotion that would be expected is -lacking—it is expressly emphasized that the death of the governor makes -no impression upon me; at another point, where I see the warships I am -_frightened_, and experience all the sensations of fright while I sleep. -The distribution of affects in this well-constructed dream has been made -in such a way that every obvious contradiction is avoided. For there is -no reason why I should be frightened at the governor’s death, and it is -fitting that as the commander of the castle I should be alarmed by the -sight of the warship. Now analysis shows that Mr. P. is nothing but a -substitute for my own Ego (in the dream I am his substitute). I am the -governor who suddenly dies. The dream thoughts deal with the future of -those dear to me after my premature death. No other disagreeable thought -is to be found among the dream thoughts. The fright which is attached to -the sight of the warship must be transferred from it to this -disagreeable thought. Inversely, the analysis shows that the region of -the dream thoughts from which the warship comes is filled with most -joyous reminiscences. It was at Venice a year before, one charmingly -beautiful day, that we stood at the windows of our room on the Riva -Schiavoni and looked upon the blue lagoon, in which more activity could -be seen that day than usually. English ships were being expected, they -were to be festively received; and suddenly my wife called out, happy as -a child: “_There come the English warships!_” In the dream I am -frightened at the very same words; we see again that speeches in the -dream originate from speeches in life. I shall soon show that even the -element “English” in this speech has not been lost for the dream -activity. I thus convert joy into fright on the way from the dream -thoughts to the dream content, and I need only intimate that by means of -this very transformation I give expression to a part of the latent dream -content. The example shows, however, that the dream activity is at -liberty to detach the occasion for an affect from its context in the -dream thoughts, and to insert it at any other place it chooses in the -dream content. - -I seize the opportunity which is incidentally offered, of subjecting to -closer analysis the “breakfast ship,” whose appearance in the dream so -nonsensically concludes a situation that has been rationally adhered to. -If I take a closer view of this object in the dream, I am now struck by -the fact that it was black, and that on account of its being cut off at -its greatest breadth it closely resembled, at the end where it was cut -off, an object which had aroused our interest in the museums of the -Etruscan cities. This object was a rectangular cup of black clay with -two handles, upon which stood things like coffee cups, or tea cups, very -similar to our modern _breakfast_ table service. Upon inquiring, we -learned that this was the toilet set of an Etruscan lady, with little -boxes for rouge and powder; and we said jokingly to each other that it -would not be a bad idea to take a thing like that home to the lady of -the house. The dream object, therefore, signifies “_black toilet_” -(German, _toilette_—dress)—mourning—and has direct reference to a death. -The other end of the dream object reminds us of the “boat” (German, -_Nachen_), from the root νέχυς, as a philological friend has told me, -upon which corpses were laid in prehistoric times and were left to be -buried by the sea. With this circumstance is connected the reason for -the return of the ships in the dream. - -“Quietly the old man on his rescued boat drifts into the harbour.” - -It is the return voyage after the ship_wreck_ (German, schiff_bruch_; -ship-_breaking_, _i.e._ shipwreck), the breakfast-ship looks as though -it were _broken_ off in the middle. But whence comes the name -“breakfast”-ship? Here is where the “English” comes in, which we have -left over from the warships. _Breakfast—a breaking of the fast._ -Breaking again belongs to ship-_wreck_ (Schiff_bruch_), and _fasting_ is -connected with the mourning dress. - -The only thing about this breakfast-ship, which has been newly created -by the dream, is its name. The thing has existed in reality, and recalls -to me the merriest hours of my last journey. As we distrusted the fare -in Aquileja, we took some food with us from Goerz, and bought a bottle -of excellent Istrian wine in Aquileja, and while the little mail-steamer -slowly travelled through the Canal delle Mee and into the lonely stretch -of lagoon towards Grado, we took our breakfast on deck—we were the only -passengers—and it tasted to us as few breakfasts have ever tasted. This, -then, was the “_breakfast-ship_,” and it is behind this very -recollection of great enjoyment that the dream hides the saddest -thoughts about an unknown and ominous future. - -The detachment of emotions from the groups of ideas which have been -responsible for their development is the most striking thing that -happens to them in the course of dream formation, but it is neither the -only nor even the most essential change which they undergo on the way -from the dream thoughts to the manifest dream. If the affects in the -dream thoughts are compared with those in the dream, it at once becomes -clear that wherever there is an emotion in the dream, this is also to be -found in the dream thoughts; the converse, however, is not true. In -general, the dream is less rich in affects than the psychic material -from which it is elaborated. As soon as I have reconstructed the dream -thoughts I see that the most intense psychic impulses are regularly -striving in them for self-assertion, usually in conflict with others -that are sharply opposed to them. If I turn back to the dream, I often -find it colourless and without any of the more intense strains of -feeling. Not only the content, but also the affective tone of my -thoughts has been brought by the dream activity to the level of the -indifferent. I might say that a _suppression of the affects_ has taken -place. Take, for example, the dream of the botanical monograph. It -answers to a passionate plea for my freedom to act as I am acting and to -arrange my life as seems right to me and to me alone. The dream which -results from it sounds indifferent; I have written a monograph; it is -lying before me; it is fitted with coloured plates, and dried plants are -to be found with each copy. It is like the peacefulness of a -battlefield; there is no trace left of the tumult of battle. - -It may also turn out differently—vivid affective expressions may make -their appearance in the dream; but we shall first dwell upon the -unquestionable fact that many dreams appear indifferent, while it is -never possible to go deeply into the dream thoughts without deep -emotion. - -A complete theoretical explanation of this suppression of emotions in -the course of the dream activity cannot be given here; it would require -a most careful investigation of the theory of the emotions and of the -mechanism of suppression. I shall find a place here for two thoughts -only. I am forced—on other grounds—to conceive the development of -affects as a centrifugal process directed towards the interior of the -body, analogous to the processes of motor and secretory innervation. -Just as in the sleeping condition the omission of motor impulses towards -the outside world seems to be suspended, so a centrifugal excitement of -emotions through unconscious thought may be made more difficult during -sleep. Thus the affective impulses aroused during the discharge of the -dream thoughts would themselves be weak excitements, and therefore those -getting into the dream would not be stronger. According to this line of -argument the “suppression of the affects” would not be a result of the -dream activity at all, but a result of the sleeping condition. This may -be so, but this cannot possibly be all. We must also remember that all -the more complex dreams have shown themselves to be a compromised result -from the conflict of psychic forces. On the one hand, the thoughts that -constitute the wish must fight the opposition of a censorship; on the -other hand, we have often seen how, even in unconscious thinking, each -train of thought is harnessed to its contradictory opposite. Since all -of these trains of thought are capable of emotion, we shall hardly make -a mistake, broadly speaking, if we regard the suppression of emotion as -the result of the restraint which the contrasts impose upon one another -and which the censor imposes upon the tendencies which it has -suppressed. _The restraint of affects would accordingly he the second -result of the dream censor as the disfigurement of the dream was the -first._ - -I shall insert an example of a dream in which the indifferent affective -tone of the dream content may be explained by a contrast in the dream -thoughts. I have the following short dream to relate, which every reader -will read with disgust: - -IV. _A bit of rising ground, and on it something like a toilet in the -open; a very long bench, at the end of which is a large toilet aperture. -All of the back edge is thickly covered with little heaps of excrement -of all sizes and degrees of freshness. A shrub behind the bench. I -urinate upon the bench; a long stream of urine rinses everything clean, -the patches of excrement easily come off and fall into the opening. It -seems as though something remained at the end nevertheless._ - -Why did I experience no disgust in this dream? - -Because, as the analysis shows, the most pleasant and satisfying -thoughts have co-operated in the formation of this dream. Upon analysing -it I immediately think of the Augean stables cleansed by Hercules. I am -this Hercules. The rising ground and the shrub belong to Aussee, where -my children are now staying. I have discovered the infantile etiology of -the neuroses and have thus guarded my own children from becoming ill. -The bench (omitting the aperture, of course) is the faithful copy of a -piece of furniture which an affectionate female patient has made me a -present of. This recalls how my patients honour me. Even the museum of -human excrement is susceptible of less disagreeable interpretation. -However much I am disgusted with it, it is a souvenir of the beautiful -land of Italy, where in little cities, as everyone knows, water-closets -are not equipped in any other way. The stream of urine that washes -everything clean is an unmistakable allusion to greatness. It is in this -manner that Gulliver extinguishes the great fire in Lilliput; to be -sure, he thereby incurs the displeasure of the tiniest of queens. In -this way, too, Gargantua, the superman in Master Rabelais, takes -vengeance upon the Parisians, straddling Notre Dame and training his -stream of urine upon the city. Only yesterday I was turning over the -leaves of Garnier’s illustrations of Rabelais before I went to bed. And, -strangely enough, this is another proof that I am the superman! The -platform of Notre Dame was my favourite nook in Paris; every free -afternoon I was accustomed to go up into the towers of the church and -climb about among the monsters and devil-masks there. The circumstances -that all the excrement vanishes so rapidly before the stream correspond -to the motto: _Afflavit et dissipati sunt_, which I shall some day make -the title of a chapter on the therapeutics of hysteria. - -And now as to the occasion giving rise to the dream. It had been a hot -afternoon in summer; in the evening I had given a lecture on the -relation between hysteria and the perversions, and everything which I -had to say displeased me thoroughly, appeared to me stripped of all -value. I was tired, found no trace of pleasure in my difficult task, and -longed to get away from this rummaging in human filth, to see my -children and then the beauties of Italy. In this mood I went from the -auditorium to a café, to find some modest refreshment in the open air, -for my appetite had left me. But one of my audience went with me; he -begged for permission to sit with me while I drank my coffee and gulped -down my roll, and began to say flattering things to me. He told me how -much he had learned from me, and that he now looked at everything -through different eyes, that I had cleansed the Augean stables, _i.e._ -the theory of the neuroses, of its errors and prejudices—in short, that -I was a very great man. My mood was ill-suited to his song of praise; I -struggled with disgust, and went home earlier in order to extricate -myself. Before I went to sleep I turned over the leaves of Rabelais, and -read a short story by C. F. Meyer entitled _Die Leiden eines Knaben_ -(The Hardships of a Boy). - -The dream had been drawn from these materials, and the novel by Meyer -added the recollection of childish scenes (_cf._ the dream about Count -Thun, last scene). The mood of the day, characterised by disgust and -annoyance, is continued in the dream in the sense that it is permitted -to furnish nearly the entire material for the dream content. But during -the night the opposite mood of vigorous and even exaggerated -self-assertion was awakened, and dissipated the earlier mood. The dream -had to take such a form as to accommodate the expression of -self-depreciation and exaggerated self-assertion in the same material. -This compromise formation resulted in an ambiguous dream content, but -likewise in an indifferent strain of feeling owing to the restraint of -the contrasts upon each other. - -According to the theory of wish-fulfilment this dream could not have -happened had not the suppressed, but at the same time pleasurable, train -of thought concerning personal aggrandisement been coupled with the -opposing thoughts of disgust. For disagreeable things are not intended -to be represented by the dream; painful thoughts that have occurred -during the day can force their way into the dream only if they lend a -cloak to the wish-fulfilment. The dream activity can dispose of the -affects in the dream thoughts in still another way, besides admitting -them or reducing them to zero. _It can change them into their opposite._ -We have already become acquainted with the rule of interpretation that -every element of the dream may be interpreted by its opposite, as well -as by itself. One can never tell at the outset whether to set down the -one or the other; only the connection can decide this point. A suspicion -of this state of affairs has evidently got into popular consciousness; -dream books very often proceed according to the principle of contraries -in their interpretation. Such transformation into opposites is made -possible by the intimate concatenation of associations, which in our -thoughts finds the idea of a thing in that of its opposite. Like every -other displacement this serves the purposes of the censor, but it is -also often the work of the wish-fulfilment, for wish-fulfilment consists -precisely in this substitution of an unwelcome thing by its opposite. -The emotions of the dream thoughts may appear in the dream transformed -into their opposites just as well as the ideas, and it is probable that -this inversion of emotions is usually brought about by the dream censor. -The _suppression_ and _inversion of affects_ are useful in social life, -as the current analogy for the dream censor has shown us—above all, for -purposes of dissimulation. If I converse with a person to whom I must -show consideration while I am saying unpleasant things to him, it is -almost more important that I should conceal the expression of my emotion -from him, than that I modify the wording of my thoughts. If I speak to -him in polite words, but accompany them by looks or gestures of hatred -and disdain, the effect which I produce upon this person is not very -different from what it would have been if I had recklessly thrown my -contempt into his face. Above all, then, the censor bids me suppress my -emotions, and if I am master of the art of dissimulation, I can -hypocritically show the opposite emotion—smiling where I should like to -be angry, and pretending affection where I should like to destroy. - -We already know of an excellent example of such an inversion of emotion -for the purposes of the dream censor. In the dream about my uncle’s -beard I feel great affection for my friend R., at the same time that, -and because, the dream thoughts berate him as a simpleton. We have drawn -our first proof for the existence of the censor from this example of the -inversion of emotions. Nor is it necessary here to assume that the dream -activity creates a counter emotion of this kind out of nothing; it -usually finds it lying ready in the material of the dream thoughts, and -intensifies it solely with the psychic force of the resisting impulse -until a point is reached where the emotion can be won over for the -formation of the dream. In the dream of my uncle, just mentioned, the -affectionate counter emotion has probably originated from an infantile -source (as the continuation of the dream would suggest), for the -relation between uncle and nephew has become the source of all my -friendships and hatreds, owing to the peculiar nature of my childish -experiences (_cf._ analysis on p. 334). - -There is a class of dreams deserving the designation “hypocritical,” -which puts the theory of wish-fulfilment to a severe test. My attention -was called to them when Mrs. Dr. M. Hilferding brought up for discussion -in the Vienna Psychoanalytic Society the dream reported by Rosegger, -which is reprinted below. - -In _Waldheimat_, vol. xi., Rosegger writes as follows in his story, -_Fremd gemacht_, p. 303: - - “I have usually enjoyed healthful sleep, but I have lost the rest of - many a night. With my modest existence as a student and literary man, - I have for long years dragged along with me the shadow of a veritable - tailor’s life, like a ghost from which I could not become separated. I - cannot say that I have occupied myself so often and so vividly with - thoughts of my past during the day. An assailer of heaven and earth - arising from the skin of the Philistine has other things to think - about. Nor did I, as a dashing young fellow, think about my nocturnal - dreams; only later, when I got into the habit of thinking about - everything or when the Philistine within me again asserted itself, it - struck me that whenever I dreamed I was always the journeyman tailor, - and was always working in my master’s shop for long hours without any - remuneration. As I sat there and sewed and pressed I was quite aware - that I no longer belonged there, and that as a burgess of a town I had - other things to attend to; but I was for ever having vacations, and - going out into the country, and it was then that I sat near my boss - and assisted him. I often felt badly, and regretted the loss of time - which I might spend for better and more useful purposes. If something - did not come up to the measure and cut exactly, I had to submit to a - reproach from the boss. Often, as I sat with my back bent in the dingy - shop, I decided to give notice that I was going to quit. On one - occasion I actually did so, but the boss took no notice of it, and the - next time I was again sitting near him and sewing. - - “How happy I was when I woke up after such weary hours! And I then - resolved that, if this dream came intruding again, I would throw it - off with energy and would cry aloud: ‘It is only a delusion, I am in - bed, and I want to sleep.’... And the next night I would be sitting in - the tailor shop again. - - “Thus years passed with dismal regularity. While the boss and I were - working at Alpelhofer’s, at the house of the peasant where I began my - apprenticeship, it happened that he was particularly dissatisfied with - my work. ‘I should like to know where in the world your thoughts are?’ - cried he, and looked at me gloomily, I thought the most sensible thing - for me to do would be to get up and explain to the boss that I was - with him only as a favour, and then leave. But I did not do this. I - submitted, however, when the boss engaged an apprentice, and ordered - me to make room for him on the bench. I moved into the corner, and - kept on sewing. On the same day another tailor was engaged; he was - bigoted, as he was a Czech who had worked for us nineteen years - before, and then had fallen into the lake on his way home from the - public-house. When he tried to sit down there was no room for him. I - looked at the boss inquiringly, and he said to me, ‘You have no talent - for the tailoring business; you may go; you are free.’ My fright on - that occasion was so overpowering that I awoke. - - “The morning gray glimmered through the clear window of my beloved - home. Objects of art surrounded me; in the tasteful bookcase stood the - eternal Homer, the gigantic Dante, the incomparable Shakespeare, the - glorious Goethe—all shining and immortal. From the adjoining room - resounded the clear little voices of the children, who were waking and - prattling with their mother. I felt as if I had found again that - idyllically sweet, that peaceful, poetical, and spiritual life which I - have so often and so deeply conceived as the contemplative fortune of - mankind. And still I was vexed that I had not given my boss notice - first, instead of allowing him to discharge me. - - “And how remarkable it is; after the night when the boss ‘discharged - me’ I enjoyed rest; I no longer dreamed of my tailoring—of this - experience which lay in the remote past, which in its simplicity was - really happy, and which, nevertheless, threw a long shadow over the - later years of my life.” - -I. In this dream, the series of the poet who, in his younger years, has -been a journeyman tailor, it is hard to recognise the domination of the -wish-fulfilment. All the delightful things occurred during the waking -state, while the dream seemed to drag along the ghostlike shadow of an -unhappy existence which had been long forgotten. My own dreams of a -similar nature have put me in a position to give some explanation for -such dreams. As a young doctor I for a long time worked in the chemical -institute without being able to accomplish anything in that exacting -science, and I therefore never think in my waking state about this -unfruitful episode in my life, of which I am really ashamed. On the -other hand, it has become a recurring dream with me that I am working in -the laboratory, making analyses, and having experiences there, &c.; like -the examination dreams, these dreams are disagreeable, and they are -never very distinct. During the analysis of one of these dreams my -attention was directed to the word “analysis,” which, gave me the key to -an understanding of these dreams. For I had since become an “analyst.” I -make analyses which are highly praised—to be sure, psychoanalyses. I -then understood that when I grew proud of these analyses of the waking -state, and wanted to boast how much I had accomplished thereby, the -dream would hold up to me at night those other unsuccessful analyses of -which I had no reason to be proud; they are the punitive dreams of the -upstart, like those of the tailor who became a celebrated poet. But how -is it possible for the dream to place itself at the service of -self-criticism in its conflict with parvenu-pride, and to take as its -content a rational warning instead of the fulfilment of a prohibitive -wish? I have already mentioned that the answer to this question entails -many difficulties. We may conclude that the foundation of the dream was -at first formed by a phantasy of overweening ambition, but that only its -suppression and its abashment reached the dream content in its stead. -One should remember that there are masochistic tendencies in the psychic -life to which such an inversion might be attributed. But a more thorough -investigation of the individual dreams allows the recognition of still -another element. In an indistinct subordinate portion of one of my -laboratory dreams, I was just at the age which placed me in the most -gloomy and most unsuccessful year of my professional career; I still had -no position and no means of support, when I suddenly found that I had -the choice of many women whom I could marry! I was, therefore, young -again, and, what is more, she was young again—the woman who has shared -with me all these hard years. In this way one of the wishes which -constantly frets the heart of the ageing man was revealed as the -unconscious dream inciter. The struggle raging in the other psychic -strata between vanity and self-criticism has certainly determined the -dream content, but the more deeply-rooted wish of youth has alone made -it possible as a dream. One may say to himself even in the waking state: -To be sure it is very nice now, and times were once very hard; but it -was nice, too, even then, you were still so young. - -In considering dreams reported by a poet one may often assume that he -has excluded from the report those details which he perceived as -disturbing and which he considered unessential. His dreams, then, give -us a riddle which could be readily solved if we had an exact -reproduction of the dream content. - -O. Rank has called my attention to the fact that in Grimm’s fairy tale -of the valiant little tailor, or “Seven at one Stroke,” a very similar -dream of an upstart is related. The tailor, who became the hero and -married the king’s daughter, dreamed one night while with the princess, -his wife, about his trade; the latter, becoming suspicious, ordered -armed guards for the following night, who should listen to what was -spoken in the dream, and who should do away with the dreamer. But the -little tailor was warned, and knew enough to correct his dream. - -The complex of processes—of suspension, subtraction, and -inversion—through which the affects of the dream thoughts finally become -those of the dream, may well be observed in the suitable synthesis of -completely analysed dreams. I shall here treat a few cases of emotional -excitement in the dream which furnish examples of some of the cases -discussed. - -In the dream about the odd task which the elder Bruecke gives me to -perform—of preparing my own pelvis—the _appropriate horror is absent in -the dream itself_. Now this is a wish-fulfilment in various senses. -Preparation signifies self-analysis, which I accomplish, as it were, by -publishing my book on dreams, and which has been so disagreeable to me -that I have already postponed printing the finished manuscript for more -than a year. The wish is now actuated that I may disregard this feeling -of opposition, and for that reason I feel no horror (_Grauen_, which -also means to grow grey) in the dream. I should also like to escape the -horror—in the other (German) sense—of growing grey; for I am already -growing grey fast, and the grey in my hair warns me withal to hold back -no longer. For we know that at the end of the dream the thought secures -expression in that I should have to leave my children to get to the goal -of their difficult journey. - -In the two dreams that shift the expression of satisfaction to the -moments immediately after awakening, this satisfaction is in the one -case motivated by the expectation that I am now going to learn what is -meant by “I have already dreamed of it,” and refers in reality to the -birth of my first child, and in the other case it is motivated by the -conviction that “that which has been announced by a sign” is now going -to happen, and the latter satisfaction is the same which I felt at the -arrival of my second son. Here the same emotions that dominated in the -dream thoughts have remained in the dream, but the process is probably -not so simple as this in every dream. If the two analyses are examined a -little, it will be seen that this satisfaction which does not succumb to -the censor receives an addition from a source which must fear the -censor; and the emotion drawn from this source would certainly arouse -opposition if it did not cloak itself in a similar emotion of -satisfaction that is willingly admitted, if it did not, as it were, -sneak in behind the other. Unfortunately, I am unable to show this in -the case of the actual dream specimen, but an example from another -province will make my meaning intelligible. I construct the following -case: Let there be a person near me whom I hate so that a strong feeling -arises in me that I should be glad if something were to happen to him. -But the moral part of my nature does not yield to this sentiment; I do -not dare to express this ill-wish, and when something happens to him -which he does not deserve, I suppress my satisfaction at it, and force -myself to expressions and thoughts of regret. Everyone will have found -himself in such a position. But now let it happen that the hated person -draws upon himself a well-deserved misfortune by some fault; now I may -give free rein to my satisfaction that he has been visited by a just -punishment, and I express opinion in the matter which coincides with -that of many other people who are impartial. But I can see that my -satisfaction turns out to be more intense than that of the others, for -it has received an addition from another source—from my hatred, which -has hitherto been prevented by the inner censor from releasing an -emotion, but which is no longer prevented from doing so under the -altered circumstances. This case is generally typical of society, where -persons who have aroused antipathy or are adherents of an unpopular -minority incur guilt. Their punishment does not correspond to their -transgression but to their transgression _plus_ the ill-will directed -against them that has hitherto been ineffective. Those who execute the -punishment doubtless commit an injustice, but they are prevented from -becoming aware of it by the satisfaction arising from the release within -themselves of a suppression of long standing. In such cases the emotion -is justified according to its quality, but not according to its -quantity; and the self-criticism that has been appeased as to the one -point is only too ready to neglect examination of the second point. Once -you have opened the doors, more people get through than you originally -intended to admit. - -The striking feature of the neurotic character, that incitements capable -of producing emotion bring about a result that is qualitatively -justified but is quantitatively excessive, is to be explained in this -manner, in so far as it admits of a psychological explanation at all. -The excess is due to sources of emotion which have remained unconscious -and have hitherto been suppressed, which can establish in the -associations a connection with the actual incitement, and which can thus -find release for its emotions through the vent which the unobjectionable -and admitted source of emotion opens. Our attention is thus called to -the fact that we may not consider the relation of mutual restraint as -obtaining exclusively between the suppressed and the suppressing psychic -judgment. The cases in which the two judgments bring about a -pathological emotion by co-operation and mutual strengthening deserve -just as much attention. The reader is requested to apply these hints -regarding the psychic mechanism for the purpose of understanding the -expressions of emotion in the dream. A satisfaction which makes its -appearance in the dream, and which may readily be found at its proper -place in the dream thoughts, may not always be fully explained by means -of this reference. As a rule it will be necessary to search for a second -source in the dream thoughts, upon which the pressure of the censor is -exerted, and which under the pressure would have resulted not in -satisfaction, but in the opposite emotion—which, however, is enabled by -the presence of the first source to free its satisfaction affect from -suppression and to reinforce the satisfaction springing from the other -source. Hence emotions in the dream appear as though formed by the -confluence of several tributaries, and as though over-determined in -reference to the material of the dream thoughts; _sources of affect -which can furnish the same affect join each other in the dream activity -in order to produce it_.[FE] - -Some insight into these tangled relations is gained from analysis of the -admirable dream in which “Non vixit” constitutes the central point -(_cf._ p. 333). The expressions of emotion in this dream, which are of -different qualities, are forced together at two points in the manifest -content. Hostile and painful feelings (in the dream itself we have the -phrase, “seized by strange emotions”) overlap at the point where I -destroy my antagonistic friend with the two words. At the end of the -dream I am greatly pleased, and am quite ready to believe in a -possibility which I recognise as absurd when I am awake, namely, that -there are _revenants_ who can be put out of the way by a mere wish. - -I have not yet mentioned the occasion for this dream. It is an -essential one, and goes a long way towards explaining it. I had -received the news from my friend in Berlin (whom I have designated as -F.) that he is about to undergo an operation and that relatives of his -living in Vienna would give me information about his condition. The -first few messages after the operation were not reassuring, and caused -me anxiety. I should have liked best to go to him myself, but at that -time I was affected with a painful disease which made every movement a -torture for me. I learn from the dream thoughts that I feared for the -life of my dear friend. I knew that his only sister, with whom I had -not been acquainted, had died early after the shortest possible -illness. (In the dream _F. tells about his sister, and says: “In -three-quarters of an hour she was dead.”_) I must have imagined that -his own constitution was not much stronger, and that I should soon be -travelling, in spite of my health, in answer to far worse news—and -that I should arrive too _late_, for which I should reproach myself -for ever.[FF] This reproach about arriving too late has become the -central point of the dream, but has been represented in a scene in -which the honoured teacher of my student years—Bruecke—reproaches me -for the same thing with a terrible look from his blue eyes. The cause -of this deviation from the scene will soon be clear; the dream cannot -reproduce the scene itself in the manner in which it occurred to me. -To be sure, it leaves the blue eyes to the other man, but it gives me -the part of the annihilator, an inversion which is obviously the -result of the wish-fulfilment. My concern for the life of my friend, -my self-reproach for not having gone to him, my shame (he had -repeatedly come to me in Vienna), my desire to consider myself excused -on account of my illness—all of this makes up a tempest of feeling -which is distinctly felt in sleep, and which raged in every part of -the dream thoughts. - -But there was another thing about the occasion for the dream which had -quite the opposite effect. With the unfavourable news during the first -days of the operation, I also received the injunction to speak to no one -about the whole affair, which hurt my feelings, for it betrayed an -unnecessary distrust of my discretion. I knew, of course, that this -request did not proceed from my friend, but that it was due to -clumsiness or excessive timidity on the part of the messenger, but the -concealed reproach made me feel very badly because it was not altogether -unjustified. Only reproaches which “have something in them” have power -to irritate, as everyone knows. For long before, in the case of two -persons who were friendly to each other and who were willing to honour -me with their friendship, I had quite needlessly tattled what the one -had said about the other; to be sure this incident had nothing to do -with the affairs of my friend F. Nor have I forgotten the reproaches -which I had to listen to at that time. One of the two friends between -whom I was the trouble-maker was Professor Fleischl; the other one I may -name Joseph, a name which was also borne by my friend and antagonist P., -who appears in the dream. - -Two dream elements, first _inconspicuously_, and secondly the question -of _Fl. as to how much of his affairs I have mentioned to P._, give -evidence of the reproach that I am incapable of keeping anything to -myself. But it is the admixture of these recollections which transposes -the reproach for arriving too late from the present to the time when I -was living in Bruecke’s laboratory; and by replacing the second person -in the annihilation scene of the dream by a Joseph I succeed in -representing not only the first reproach that I arrive too late, but -also a second reproach, which is more rigorously suppressed, that I keep -no secrets. The condensing and replacing activity of this dream, as well -as the motives for it, are now obvious. - -My anger at the injunction not to give anything away, originally quite -insignificant, receives confirmation from sources that flow far below -the surface, and so become a swollen stream of hostile feelings towards -persons who are in reality dear to me. The source which furnishes the -confirmation is to be found in childhood. I have already said that my -friendships as well as my enmities with persons of my own age go back to -my childish relations with my nephew, who was a year older than I. In -these he had the upper hand, and I early learned how to defend myself; -we lived together inseparably, loved each other, and at the same time, -as statements of older persons testify, scuffled with and accused each -other. In a certain sense all my friends are incarnations of this first -figure, “which early appeared to my blurred sight”; they are all -_revenants_. My nephew himself returned in the years of adolescence, and -then we acted Cæsar and Brutus. An intimate friend and a hated enemy -have always been indispensable requirements for my emotional life; I -have always been able to create them anew, and not infrequently my -childish ideal has been so closely approached that friend and enemy -coincided in the same person, not simultaneously, of course, nor in -repeated alterations, as had been the case in my first childhood years. - -I do not here wish to trace the manner in which a recent occasion for -emotion may reach back to one in childhood—through connections like -these I have just described—in order to find a substitute for itself, in -this earlier occasion for the sake of increased emotional effect. Such -an investigation would belong to the psychology of the unconscious, and -would find its place in a psychological explanation of neuroses. Let us -assume for the purposes of dream interpretation that a childhood -recollection makes its appearance or is formed by the fancy, say to the -following effect: Two children get into a fight on account of some -object—just what we shall leave undecided, although memory or an -allusion of memory has a very definite one in mind—and each one claims -that he got to it first, and that he, therefore, has first right to it. -They come to blows, for might makes right; and, according to the -intimation of the dream, I must have known that I was in the wrong -(_noticing the error myself_), but this time I remain the stronger and -take possession of the battlefield; the defeated combatant hurries to my -father, his grandfather, and accuses me, and I defend myself with the -words which I know from my father: “_I hit him because he hit me._” Thus -this recollection, or more probably fancy, which forces itself upon my -attention in the course of the analysis—from my present knowledge I -myself do not know how—becomes an intermediary of the dream thoughts -that collects the emotional excitements obtaining in the dream thoughts, -as the bowl of a fountain collects the streams of water flowing into it. -From this point the dream thoughts flow along the following paths: “It -serves you quite right if you had to vacate your place for me; why did -you try to force me out of my place? I don’t need you; I’ll soon find -someone else to play with,” &c. Then the ways are opened through which -these thoughts again follow into the representation of the dream. For -such an “ôte-toi que je m’y mette” I once had to reproach my deceased -friend Joseph. He had been next to me in the line of promotion in -Bruecke’s laboratory, but advancement there was very slow. Neither of -the two assistants budged from his place, and youth became impatient. My -friend, who knew that his time of life was limited, and who was bound by -no tie to his superior, was a man seriously ill; the wish for his -removal permitted an objectionable interpretation—he might be moved by -something besides promotion. Several years before, the same wish for -freedom had naturally been more intense in my own case; wherever in the -world there are gradations of rank and advancement, the doors are opened -for wishes needing suppression. Shakespeare’s Prince Hal cannot get rid -of the temptation to see how the crown fits even at the bed of his sick -father. But, as may easily be understood, the dream punishes this -ruthless wish not upon me but upon him.[FG] - -“As he was ambitious, I slew him.” As he could not wait for the other -man to make way for him, he himself has been put out of the way. I -harbour these thoughts immediately after attending the unveiling of the -statue to the other man at the university. A part of the satisfaction -which I feel in the dream may therefore be interpreted: Just punishment; -it served you right. - -At the funeral of this friend a young man made the following remark, -which seemed out of place: “The preacher talked as though the world -couldn’t exist without this one human being.” The displeasure of the -sincere man, whose sorrow has been marred by the exaggeration, begins to -arise in him. But with this speech are connected the dream thoughts: “No -one is really irreplaceable; how many men have I already escorted to the -grave, but I am still living, I have survived them all, I claim the -field.” Such a thought at the moment when I fear that when I travel to -see him I shall find my friend no longer among the living, permits only -of the further development that I am glad I am surviving someone, that -it is not I who have died, but he—that I occupy the field as I once did -in the fancied scene in childhood. This satisfaction, coming from -sources in childhood, at the fact that I claim the field, covers the -larger part of the emotion which appears in the dream. I am glad that I -am the survivor—I express this sentiment with the naïve egotism of the -husband who says to his wife: “If one of us dies, I shall move to -Paris.” It is such a matter of course for my expectation that I am not -to be the one. - -It cannot be denied that great self-control is necessary to interpret -one’s dreams and to report them. It is necessary for you to reveal -yourself as the one scoundrel among all the noble souls with whom you -share the breath of life. Thus, I consider it quite natural that -_revenants_ exist only as long as they are wanted, and that they can be -obviated by a wish. This is the thing for which my friend Joseph has -been punished. But the _revenants_ are the successive incarnations of -the friend of my childhood; I am also satisfied at the fact that I have -replaced this person for myself again and again, and a substitute will -doubtless soon be found even for the friend whom I am about to lose. No -one is irreplaceable. - -But what has the dream censor been doing meanwhile? Why does it not -raise the most emphatic objection to a train of thought characterised by -such brutal selfishness, and change the satisfaction that adheres to it -into profound repugnance? I think it is because other unobjectionable -trains of thought likewise result in satisfaction and cover the emotion -coming from forbidden infantile sources with their own. In another -stratum of thought I said to myself at that festive unveiling: “I have -lost so many dear friends, some through death, some through the -dissolution of friendship—is it not beautiful that I have found -substitutes for them, that I have gained one who means more to me than -the others could, whom I shall from now on always retain, at the age -when it is not easy to form new friendships?” The satisfaction that I -have found this substitute for lost friends can be taken over into the -dream without interference, but behind it there sneaks in the inimical -satisfaction from the infantile source. Childish affection undoubtedly -assists in strengthening the justifiable affection of to-day; but -childish hatred has also found its way into the representation. - -But besides this there is distinct reference in the dream to another -chain of thoughts, which may manifest itself in the form of -satisfaction. My friend had shortly before had a little daughter born, -after long waiting. I knew how much he had grieved for the sister whom -he lost at an early age, and I wrote to him that he would transfer to -this child the love he had felt for her. This little girl would at last -make him forget his irreparable loss. - -Thus this chain also connects with the intermediary thoughts of the -latent dream content, from which the ways spread out in opposite -directions: No one is irreplaceable. You see, nothing but _revenants_; -all that one has lost comes back. And now the bonds of association -between the contradictory elements of the dream thoughts are more -tightly drawn by the accidental circumstance that the little daughter of -my friend bears the same name as the girl playmate of my own youth, who -was just my own age and the sister of my oldest friend and antagonist. I -have heard the name “Pauline” with _satisfaction_, and in order to -allude to this coincidence I have replaced one Joseph in the dream by -another Joseph, and have not overlooked the similarity in sound between -the names Fleischl and F. From this point a train of thought runs to the -naming of my own children. I insisted that the names should not be -chosen according to the fashion of the day but should be determined by -regard for the memory of beloved persons. The children’s names make them -“_revenants_.” And, finally, is not the having of children the only -access to immortality for us all? - -I shall add only a few remarks about the emotions of the dream from -another point of view. An emotional inclination—what we call a mood—may -occur in the mind of a sleeping person as its dominating element, and -may induce a corresponding mood in the dream. This mood may be the -result of the experiences and thoughts of the day, or it may be of -somatic origin; in either case it will be accompanied by the chains of -thought that correspond to it. The fact that in the one case this -presentation content conditions the emotional inclination primarily, and -that in the other case it is brought about secondarily by a disposition -of feeling of somatic origin remains without influence upon the -formation of the dream. This formation is always subject to the -restriction that it can represent only a wish-fulfilment, and that it -may put its psychic motive force at the service only of the wish. The -mood that is actually present will receive the same treatment as the -sensation which actually comes to the surface during sleep (_cf._ p. -198), which is either neglected or reinterpreted so as to signify a -wish-fulfilment. Disagreeable moods during sleep become a motive force -of the dream by actuating energetic wishes, which the dream must fulfil. -The material to which they are attached is worked over until it finally -becomes suitable for the expression of the fulfilled wish. The more -intense and the more dominating the element of the disagreeable mood in -the dream thought, the more surely will the wish-impulses that have been -most rigorously suppressed take advantage of the opportunity to secure -representation, for they find that the difficult part of the work -necessary in securing representation has already been accomplished in -that the repugnance is already actually in existence, which they would -otherwise have had to produce by their own effort. With this discussion -we again touch upon the problem of anxiety dreams, which we may regard -as bounding the province of the dream activity. - - - (_h_) _Secondary Elaboration._ - -We may at last proceed to an exposition of the fourth of the factors -which take part in the formation of the dream. - -If we continue the examination of the dream content, in the manner -already outlined—that is, by testing striking occurrences as to their -origin in the dream thoughts—we encounter elements which can be -explained only by making an entirely new assumption. I have in mind -cases where one shows astonishment, anger, or resistance in a dream, and -that, too, against a party of the dream content itself. Most of these -exercises of the critical faculty in dreams are not directed against the -dream content, but prove to be portions of dream material which have -been taken over and suitably made use of, as I have shown by fitting -examples. Some things of this sort, however, cannot be disposed of in -such a way; their correlative cannot be found in the dream material. -What, for instance, is meant by the criticism not infrequent in dreams: -“Well, it’s only a dream”? This is a genuine criticism of the dream such -as I might make if I were awake. Not at all infrequently it is the -forerunner to waking; still oftener it is preceded by a painful feeling, -which subsides when the certainty of the dream state has been -established. The thought: “But it’s only a dream,” occurring during the -dream, has the same object which is meant to be conveyed on the stage -through the mouth of the beautiful Helen von Offenbach; it wants to -minimise what has just occurred and secure indulgence for what is to -follow. Its purpose is to reassure and, so to speak, put to sleep a -certain instance which at the given moment has every reason to be active -and to forbid the continuation of the dream—or the scene. It is -pleasanter to go on sleeping and to tolerate the dream, “because it’s -only a dream anyway.” I imagine that the disparaging criticism, “But -it’s only a dream,” enters into the dream at the moment when the censor, -which has never been quite asleep, feels that it has been surprised by -the already admitted dream. It is too late to suppress the dream, and -the instance therefore carries with it that note of fear or of painful -feeling which presents itself in the dream. It is an expression of the -_esprit d’escalier_ on the part of the psychic censor. - -In this example we have faultless proof that not everything which the -dream contains comes from the dream thoughts, but that a psychic -function which cannot be differentiated from our waking thoughts may -make contributions to the dream content. The question now is, does this -occur only in altogether exceptional cases, or does the psychic instance -which is usually active only as censor take a regular part in the -formation of dreams? - -One must decide unhesitatingly for the latter view. It is indisputable -that the censoring instance, whose influence we have so far recognised -only in limitations and omissions in the dream content, is also -responsible for interpolations and amplifications in this content. Often -these interpolations are easily recognised; they are reported -irresolutely, prefaced by an “as if,” they are not in themselves -particularly vivid, and are regularly inserted at points where they may -serve to connect two portions of the dream content or improve the -sequence between two sections of the dream. They manifest less ability -to stick in the memory than genuine products of the dream material; if -the dream is subject to forgetting, they are the first to fall away, and -I am strongly inclined to believe that our frequent complaint that we -have dreamed so much, that we have forgotten most of this and have -remembered only fragments of it, rests on the immediate falling away of -just these cementing thoughts. In a complete analysis these -interpolations are often betrayed by the fact that no material is to be -found for them in the dream thoughts. But after careful examination I -must designate this case as a rare one; usually interpolated thoughts -can be traced to an element in the dream thoughts, which, however, can -claim a place in the dream neither on account of its own merit nor on -account of over-determination. The psychic function in dream formation, -which we are now considering, aspires to the original creations only in -the most extreme cases; whenever possible, it makes use of anything -available it can find in the dream material. - -The thing which distinguishes and reveals this part of the dream -activity is its tendency. This function proceeds in a manner similar to -that which the poet spitefully attributes to the philosopher; with its -scraps and rags, it stops up the breaches in the structure of the dream. -The result of its effort is that the dream loses the appearance of -absurdity and incoherence, and approaches the pattern of an intelligible -experience. But the effort is not always crowned with complete success. -Thus dreams occur which may seem faultlessly logical and correct upon -superficial examination; they start from a possible situation, continue -it by means of consistent changes, and end up—although this is very -rare—with a not unnatural conclusion. These dreams have been subjected -to the most thorough elaboration at the hands of a psychic function -similar to our waking thought; they seem to have a meaning, but this -meaning is very far removed from the real signification of the dream. If -they are analysed, one is convinced that the secondary elaboration has -distorted the material very freely, and has preserved its proper -relations as little as possible. These are the dreams which have, so to -speak, already been interpreted before we subject them to waking -interpretation. In other dreams this purposeful elaboration has been -successful only to a certain point; up to this point consistency seems -to be dominant, then the dream becomes nonsensical or confused, and -perhaps finally it lifts itself for a second time in its course to an -appearance of rationality. In still other dreams the elaboration has -failed completely; we find ourselves helpless in the presence of a -senseless mass of fragmentary contents. - -I do not wish to deny to this fourth dream-moulding power, which will -soon seem to us a familiar one—it is in reality the only one among the -four dream-moulders with which we are familiar,—I do not wish to deny -this fourth factor the capability of creatively furnishing the dream -with new contributions. But surely its influence, like that of the -others, manifests itself preponderatingly in the preferring and choosing -of already created psychic material in the dream thoughts. Now there is -a case where it is spared the work, for the most part, of building, as -it were, a façade to the dream, by the fact that such a structure, -waiting to be used, is already to be found complete in the material of -the dream thoughts. The element of the dream thoughts which I have in -mind, I am in the habit of designating as a “phantasy”; perhaps I shall -avoid misunderstanding if I immediately adduce the day dream of waking -life as an analogy.[FH] The part played by this element in our psychic -life has not yet been fully recognised and investigated by the -psychiatrists; in this study M. Benedikt has, it seems to me, made a -highly promising beginning. The significance of the day dream has not -yet escaped the unerring insight of poets; the description of the day -dreams of one of his subordinate characters which A. Daudet gives us in -_Nabab_ is universally known. A study of the psychoneuroses discloses -the astonishing fact that these phantasies or day dreams are the -immediate predecessors of hysterical symptoms—at least of a great many -of them; hysterical symptoms directly depend not upon the memories -themselves, but upon phantasies built on the basis of memories. The -frequent occurrence of conscious day phantasies brings these formations -within the scope of our knowledge; but just as there are such conscious -phantasies, so there are a great many unconscious ones, which must -remain unconscious on account of their content and on account of their -origin from repressed material. A more thorough examination into the -character of these day phantasies shows with what good reason the same -name has been given to these formations as to the products of our -nocturnal thought,—dreams. They possess an essential part of their -properties in common with nocturnal dreams; an examination of them would -really have afforded the shortest and best approach to an understanding -of night dreams. - -Like dreams, they are fulfilments of wishes; like dreams a good part of -them are based upon the impressions of childish experiences; like dreams -their creations enjoy a certain amount of indulgence from the censor. If -we trace their formation, we see how the wish motive, which is active in -their production, has taken the material of which they are built, mixed -it together, rearranged it, and composed it into a new unit. They bear -the same relation to the childish memories, to which they go back, as -some of the quaint palaces of Rome bear to the ancient ruins, whose -freestones and pillars have furnished the material for the structure -built in modern form. - -In the “secondary elaboration” of the dream content which we have -ascribed to our fourth dream-making factor, we again find the same -activity which in the creation of day dreams is allowed to manifest -itself unhampered by other influences. We may say without further -preliminary that this fourth factor of ours seeks to form something -_like a day dream_ from the material at hand. Where, however, such a day -dream has already been formed in connection with the dream thought, this -factor of the dream-work will preferably get control of it, and strive -to introduce it into the dream content. There are dreams which consist -merely of the repetition of such a day fancy, a fancy which has perhaps -remained unconscious—as, for instance, the dream of the boy that he is -riding with the heroes of the Trojan war in a war chariot. In my dream -“Autodidasker,” at least the second part of the dream is the faithful -repetition of a day phantasy—harmless in itself—about my dealings with -Professor N. The fact that the phantasy thus provided more often forms -only one part of the dream, or that only one part of the phantasy that -makes its way to the dream content, has its origin in the complexity of -the conditions which the dream must satisfy at its genesis. On the -whole, the phantasy is treated like any other component of the latent -material; still it is often recognisable in the dream as a whole. In my -dreams parts often occur which are emphasized by an impression different -from that of the rest. They seem to me to be in a state of flux, to be -more coherent and at the same time more transient than other pieces of -the same dream. I know that these are unconscious phantasies which get -into the dream by virtue of their association, but I have never -succeeded in registering such a phantasy. For the rest these phantasies, -like all other component parts of the dream thoughts, are jumbled -together and condensed, one covered up by another, and the like; but -there are all degrees, from the case where they may constitute the dream -content or at least the dream façade unchanged to the opposite case, -where they are represented in the dream content by only one of their -elements or by a remote allusion to such an element. The extent to which -the phantasies are able to withstand the demands of the censor and the -tendency to condensation are, of course, also decisive of their fate -among the dream thoughts. - -In my choice of examples for dream analysis I have, wherever possible, -avoided those dreams in which unconscious fancies play a somewhat -important part, because the introduction of this psychic element would -have necessitated extensive discussion of the psychology of unconscious -thought. But I cannot entirely omit the “phantasy” even in this matter -of examples, because it often gets fully into the dream and still more -often distinctly pervades it. I may mention one more dream, which seems -to be composed of two distinct and opposed phantasies, overlapping each -other at certain places, of which the first is superficial, while the -second becomes, as it were, the interpreter of the first.[FI] - -The dream—it is the only one for which I have no careful notes—is about -to this effect: The dreamer—an unmarried young man—is sitting in an inn, -which is seen correctly; several persons come to get him, among them -someone who wants to arrest him. He says to his table companions, “I -will pay later, I am coming back.” But they call to him, laughing -scornfully: “We know all about that; that’s what everybody says.” One -guest calls after him: “There goes another one.” He is then led to a -narrow hall, where he finds a woman with a child in her arms. One of his -escorts says: “That is Mr. Müller.” A commissioner or some other -official is running through a bundle of tickets or papers repeating -Müller, Müller, Müller. At last the commissioner asks him a question, -which he answers with “Yes.” He then takes a look at the woman, and -notices that she has grown a large beard. - -The two component parts are here easily separated. What is superficial -is the _phantasy of being arrested_; it seems to be newly created by the -dream-work. But behind it appears the _phantasy of marriage_, and this -material, on the contrary, has undergone but slight change at the hands -of the dream activity. The features which are common to both phantasies -come into distinct prominence as in a Galton’s composite photograph. The -promise of the bachelor to come back to his place at the club table, the -scepticism of the drinking companions, sophisticated in their many -experiences, the calling after: “There goes (marries) another one,”—all -these features can easily be capable of the other interpretation. -Likewise the affirmative answer given to the official. Running through -the bundle of papers with the repetition of the name, corresponds to a -subordinate but well-recognised feature of the marriage ceremonies—the -reading aloud of the congratulatory telegrams which have arrived -irregularly, and which, of course, are all addressed to the same name. -In the matter of the bride’s personal appearance in this dream, the -marriage phantasy has even got the better of the arrest phantasy which -conceals it. The fact that this bride finally displays a beard, I can -explain from an inquiry—I had no chance to make an analysis. The dreamer -had on the previous day crossed the street with a friend who was just as -hostile to marriage as himself, and had called his friend’s attention to -a beautiful brunette who was coming towards them. The friend had -remarked: “Yes, if only these women wouldn’t get beards, as they grow -older, like their fathers.” - -Of course there is no lack of elements in this dream, on which the dream -disfigurement has done more thorough work. Thus the speech: “I will pay -later,” may have reference to the conduct of the father-in-law in the -matter of dowry—which is uncertain. Obviously all kinds of scruples are -preventing the dreamer from surrendering himself with pleasure to the -phantasy of marrying. One of these apprehensions—lest one’s freedom be -lost when one marries—has embodied itself in the transformation to a -scene of arrest. - -Let us return to the thesis that the dream activity likes to make use of -a phantasy which is finished and at hand, instead of creating one afresh -from the material of the dream thoughts; we shall perhaps solve one of -the most interesting riddles of the dream if we keep this fact in mind. -I have on page 21 related the dream of Maury,[48] who is struck on the -back of the neck with a stick, and who awakes in the possession of a -long dream—a complete romance from the time of the French Revolution. -Since the dream is represented as coherent and as explicable by -reference to the disturbing stimulus alone, about the occurrence of -which stimulus the sleeper could suspect nothing, only one assumption -seems to be left, namely, that the whole richly elaborated dream must -have been composed and must have taken place in the short space of time -between the falling of the stick on Maury’s cervical vertebra and the -awakening induced by the blow. We should not feel justified in ascribing -such rapidity to the waking mental activity, and so are inclined to -credit the dream activity with a remarkable acceleration of thought as -one of its characteristics. - -Against this inference, which rapidly becomes popular, more recent -authors (Le Lorrain,[45] Egger,[20] and others) have made emphatic -objection. They partly doubt the correctness with which the dream was -reported by Maury, and partly try to show that the rapidity of our -waking mental capacity is quite as great as that which we may concede -without reservation to the dream activity. The discussion raises -fundamental questions, the settlement of which I do not think concerns -me closely. But I must admit that the argument, for instance, of Egger -has not impressed me as convincing against the guillotine dream of -Maury. I would suggest the following explanation of this dream: Would it -be very improbable that the dream of Maury exhibits a phantasy which had -been preserved in his memory in a finished state for years, and which -was awakened—I should rather say alluded to—at the moment when he became -aware of the disturbing stimulus? The difficulty of composing such a -long story with all its details in the exceedingly short space of time -which is here at the disposal of the dreamer then disappears; the story -is already composed. If the stick had struck Maury’s neck when he was -awake there would perhaps have been time for the thought: “Why, that’s -like being guillotined.” But as he is struck by the stick while asleep, -the dream activity quickly finds occasion in the incoming stimulus to -construct a wish-fulfilment, as though it thought (this is to be taken -entirely figuratively): “Here is a good opportunity to realise the wish -phantasy which I formed at such and such a time while I was reading.” -That this dream romance is just such a one as a youth would be likely to -fashion under the influence of powerful impressions does not seem -questionable to me. Who would not have been carried away—especially a -Frenchman and a student of the history of civilisation—by descriptions -of the Reign of Terror, in which the aristocracy, men and women, the -flower of the nation, showed that it was possible to die with a light -heart, and preserved their quick wit and refinement of life until the -fatal summons? How tempting to fancy one’s self in the midst of all this -as one of the young men who parts from his lady with a kiss of the hand -to climb fearlessly upon the scaffold! Or perhaps ambition is the ruling -motive of the phantasy—the ambition to put one’s self in the place of -one of those powerful individuals who merely, by the force of their -thinking and their fiery eloquence, rule the city in which the heart of -mankind is beating so convulsively, who are impelled by conviction to -send thousands of human beings to their death, and who pave the way for -the transformation of Europe; who, meanwhile, are not sure of their own -heads, and may one day lay them under the knife of the guillotine, -perhaps in the rôle of one of the Girondists or of the hero Danton? The -feature, “accompanied by an innumerable multitude,” which is preserved -in the memory, seems to show that Maury’s phantasy is an ambitious one -of this sort. - -But this phantasy, which has for a long time been ready, need not be -experienced again in sleep; it suffices if it is, so to speak, “touched -off.” What I mean is this: If a few notes are struck and someone says, -as in _Don Juan_: “That is from _Figaro’s Wedding_ by Mozart,” memories -suddenly surge up within me, none of which I can in the next moment -recall to consciousness. The characteristic phrase serves as an entrance -station from which a complete whole is simultaneously put in motion. It -need not be different in the case of unconscious thought. The psychic -station which opens the way to the whole guillotine phantasy is set in -motion by the waking stimulus. This phantasy, however, is not passed in -review during sleep, but only afterwards in waking memory. Upon -awakening one remembers the details of the phantasy, which in the dream -was regarded as a whole. There is, withal, no means of making sure that -one really has remembered anything which has been dreamed. The same -explanation, namely, that one is dealing with finished phantasies which -have been set in motion as wholes by the waking stimulus, may be applied -to still other dreams which proceed from a waking stimulus—for instance -to the battle dream of Napoleon at the explosion of the bomb. I do not -mean to assert that all waking dreams admit of this explanation, or that -the problem of the accelerated discharge of ideas in dreams is to be -altogether solved in this manner. - -We must not neglect the relation of this secondary elaboration of the -dream content to the other factors in the dream activity. Might the -procedure be as follows: the dream-creating factors, the impulse to -condense, the necessity of evading the censor, and the regard for -dramatic fitness in the psychic resources of the dream—these first of -all create a provisional dream content, and this is then subsequently -modified until it satisfies the exactions of a second instance? This is -hardly probable. It is necessary rather to assume that the demands of -this instance are from the very beginning lodged in one of the -conditions which the dream must satisfy, and that this condition, just -like those of condensation, of censorship, and of dramatic fitness, -simultaneously affect the whole mass of material in the dream thoughts -in an inductive and selective manner. But of the four conditions -necessary for the dream formation, the one last recognised is the one -whose exactions appear to be least binding upon the dream. That this -psychic function, which undertakes the so-called secondary elaboration -of the dream content is identical with the work of our waking thought -may be inferred with great probability from the following -consideration:—Our waking (foreconscious) thought behaves towards a -given object of perception just exactly as the function in question -behaves towards the dream content. It is natural for our waking thought -to bring about order in the material of perception, to construct -relationships, and to make it subject to the requirements of an -intelligible coherence. Indeed, we go too far in doing this; the tricks -of prestidigitators deceive us by taking advantage of this intellectual -habit. In our effort to put together the sensory impressions which are -offered to us in a comprehensible manner, we often commit the most -bizarre errors and even distort the truth of the material we have before -us. Proofs for this are too generally familiar to need more extended -consideration here. We fail to see errors in a printed page because our -imagination pictures the proper words. The editor of a widely-read -French paper is said to have risked the wager that he could print the -words “from in front” or “from behind” in every sentence of a long -article without any of his readers noticing it. He won the wager. A -curious example of incorrect associations years ago caught my attention -in a newspaper. After the session of the French chamber, at which Dupuy -quelled a panic caused by the explosion of a bomb thrown into the hall -by an anarchist by saying calmly, “La séance continue,” the visitors in -the gallery were asked to testify as to their impression of the -attempted assassination. Among them were two provincials. One of these -told that immediately after the conclusion of a speech he had heard a -detonation, but had thought that it was the custom in parliament to fire -a shot whenever a speaker had finished. The other, who had apparently -already heard several speakers, had got the same idea, with the -variation, however, that he supposed this shooting to be a sign of -appreciation following an especially successful speech. - -Thus the psychic instance which approaches the dream content with the -demand that it must be intelligible, which subjects it to preliminary -interpretation, and in doing so brings about a complete misunderstanding -of it, is no other than our normal thought. In our interpretation the -rule will be in every case to disregard the apparent coherence of the -dream as being of suspicious origin, and, whether the elements are clear -or confused, to follow the same regressive path to the dream material. - -We now learn upon what the scale of quality in dreams from confusion to -clearness—mentioned above, page 305—essentially depends. Those parts of -the dream with which the secondary elaboration has been able to -accomplish something seem to us clear; those where the power of this -activity has failed seem confused. Since the confused parts of the dream -are often also those which are less vividly imprinted, we may conclude -that the secondary dream-work is also responsible for a contribution to -the plastic intensity of the individual dream structures. - -If I were to seek an object of comparison for the definitive formation -of the dream as it manifests itself under the influence of normal -thinking, none better offers itself than those mysterious inscriptions -with which _Die Fliegende Blaetter_ has so long amused its readers. The -reader is supposed to find a Latin inscription concealed in a given -sentence which, for the sake of contrast, is in dialect and as -scurrilous as possible in significance. For this purpose the letters are -taken from their groupings in syllables and are newly arranged. Now and -then a genuine Latin word results, at other places we think that we have -abbreviations of such words before us, and at still other places in the -inscription we allow ourselves to be carried along over the -senselessness of the disjointed letters by the semblance of -disintegrated portions or by breaks in the inscription. If we do not -wish to respond to the jest we must give up looking for an inscription, -must take the letters as we see them, and must compose them into words -of our mother tongue, unmindful of the arrangement which is offered. - -I shall now undertake a résumé of this extended discussion of the dream -activity. We were confronted by the question whether the mind exerts all -its capabilities to the fullest development in dream formation, or only -a fragment of its capabilities, and these restricted in their activity. -Our investigation leads us to reject such a formulation of the question -entirely as inadequate to our circumstances. But if we are to remain on -the same ground when we answer as that on which the question is urged -upon us, we must acquiesce in two conceptions which are apparently -opposed and mutually exclusive. The psychic activity in dream formation -resolves itself into two functions—the provision of the dream thoughts -and the transformation of these into the dream content. The dream -thoughts are entirely correct, and are formed with all the psychic -expenditure of which we are capable; they belong to our thoughts which -have not become conscious, from which our thoughts which have become -conscious also result by means of a certain transposition. Much as there -may be about them which is worth knowing and mysterious, these problems -have no particular relation to the dream, and have no claim to be -treated in connection with dream problems. On the other hand, there is -that second portion of the activity which changes the unconscious -thoughts into the dream content, an activity peculiar to dream life and -characteristic of it. Now, this peculiar dream-work is much further -removed from the model of waking thought than even the most decided -depreciators of psychic activity in dream formation have thought. It is -not, one might say, more negligent, more incorrect, more easily -forgotten, more incomplete than waking thought; it is something -qualitatively altogether different from waking thought, and therefore -not in any way comparable to it. It does not in general think, -calculate, or judge at all, but limits itself to transforming. It can be -exhaustively described if the conditions which must be satisfied at its -creation are kept in mind. This product, the dream, must at any cost be -withdrawn from the censor, and for this purpose the dream activity makes -use of the _displacement of psychic intensities_ up to the -transvaluation of all psychic values; thoughts must exclusively or -predominatingly be reproduced in the material of visual and acoustic -traces of memory, and this requirement secures for the dream-work the -_regard for presentability_, which meets the requirement by furnishing -new displacements. Greater intensities are (probably) to be provided -than are each night at the disposal of the dream thoughts, and this -purpose is served by the prolific _condensation_ which is undertaken -with the component parts of the dream thoughts. Little attention is paid -to the logical relations of the thought material; they ultimately find a -veiled representation in the _formal_ peculiarities of the dream. The -affects of the dream thoughts undergo lesser changes than their -presentation content. As a rule they are suppressed; where they are -preserved they are freed from the presentations and put together -according to their similarity. Only one part of the dream-work—the -revision varying in amount, made by the partially roused conscious -thought—at all agrees with the conception which the authors have tried -to extend to the entire activity of dream formation. - - - - - VII - THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE DREAM ACTIVITIES - - -Among the dreams which I have heard from others there is one which at -this point is especially worthy of our attention. It was told to me by a -female patient who in turn had heard it in a lecture on dreams. Its -original source is unknown to me. This dream evidently made a deep -impression upon the lady, as she went so far as to imitate it, _i.e._ to -repeat the elements of this dream in a dream of her own in order to -express by this transference her agreement with it in a certain point. - -The essential facts of this illustrative dream are as follows: For days -and nights a father had watched at the sick-bed of his child. After the -child died, he retired to rest in an adjoining room, leaving the door -ajar, however, so as to enable him to look from his room into the other, -where the corpse lay surrounded by burning candles. An old man, who was -left as a watch, sat near the corpse murmuring prayers. After sleeping a -few hours the father dreamed that _the child stood near his bed clasping -his arms and calling out reproachfully, “Father, don’t you see that I am -burning?”_ The father woke and noticed a bright light coming from the -adjoining room. Rushing in, he found the old man asleep, and the covers -and one arm of the beloved body burned by the fallen candle. - -The meaning of this affecting dream is simple enough, and the -explanation given by the lecturer, as my patient reported it, was -correct. The bright light coming through the open door into the eyes of -the sleeper produced the same impression on him as if he had been awake; -namely, that a fire had been started near the corpse by a falling -candle. It is quite possible that on going to sleep he feared that the -aged guardian was not equal to his task. - -We can find nothing to change in this interpretation. We can add only -that the contents of the dream must be over-determined, and that the -talking of the child consisted of phrases that it had uttered while -still living, which recalled to the father important events. Perhaps the -complaint, “I am burning,” recalled the fever from which the child died, -and the words quoted, “Father, don’t you see?” recalled an emotional -occurrence unknown to us. - -But after we have recognised the dream as a senseful occurrence which -can be correlated with our psychic existence, it may be surprising that -a dream should have taken place under circumstances which necessitated -such immediate awakening. We also notice that the dream does not lack -the wish-fulfilment. The child acts as if living; it warns the father -itself; it comes to his bed and clasps his arms, as it probably did on -the occasion which gave origin to the first part of the speech in the -dream. It was for the sake of this wish-fulfilment that the father slept -a moment longer. The dream triumphed over the conscious reflection -because it could show the child once more alive. If the father had -awakened first, and had then drawn the conclusion which led him into the -adjoining room, he would have shortened the child’s life by this one -moment. - -The peculiar feature in this brief dream which engages our interest is -quite plain. So far we have mainly endeavoured to ascertain wherein the -secret meaning of the dream consists, in what way this is to be -discovered, and what means the dream-work uses to conceal it. In other -words, our greatest interest has hitherto centred on the problems of -interpretation. We now encounter a dream, however, which can be easily -explained, the sense of which is plainly presented; and we notice that -in spite of this fact the dream still preserves the essential features -which plainly differentiate our dreaming from our conscious thinking, -and thus clearly demands an explanation. After clearing up all the -problems of interpretation, we can still feel how imperfect our -psychology of the dream is. - -Before entering, however, into this new territory, let us stop and -reflect whether we have not missed something important on our way -hither. For it must be frankly admitted that we have been traversing the -easy and comfortable part of our journey. Hitherto all the paths we have -followed have led, if I mistake not, to light, to explication, and to -full understanding, but from the moment that we wish to penetrate deeper -into the psychic processes of the dream all paths lead into darkness. It -is quite impossible to explain the dream as a psychic process, for to -explain means to trace to the known, and as yet we do not possess any -psychological knowledge under which we can range what may be inferred -from our psychological investigation of dreams as their fundamental -explanation. On the contrary, we shall be compelled to build a series of -new assumptions concerning the structure of the psychic apparatus and -its active forces; and this we shall have to be careful not to carry -beyond the simplest logical concatenation, as its value may otherwise -merge into uncertainty. And, even if we should make no mistake in our -conclusions, and take cognisance of all the logical possibilities -involved, we shall still be threatened with complete failure in our -solution through the probable incompleteness of our elemental data. It -will also be impossible to gain, or at least to establish, an -explanation for the construction and workings of the psychic instrument -even through a most careful investigation of the dream or any other -_single_ activity. On the contrary, it will be necessary for this end to -bring together whatever appears decisively as constant after a -comparative study of a whole series of psychic activities. Thus the -psychological conceptions which we shall gain from an analysis of the -dream process will have to wait, as it were, at the junction point until -they can be connected with the results of other investigations which may -have advanced to the nucleus of the same problem from another starting -point. - - - (_a_) _Forgetting in Dreams._ - -I propose, then, first, to turn to a subject which has given rise to an -objection hitherto unnoticed, threatening to undermine the foundation of -our work in dream interpretation. It has been objected in more than one -quarter that the dream which we wish to interpret is really unknown to -us, or, to be more precise, that we have no assurance of knowing it as -it has really occurred (see p. 37). What we recollect of the dream, and -what we subject to our methods of interpretation, is in the first place -disfigured through our treacherous memory, which seems particularly -unfitted to retain the dream, and which may have omitted precisely the -most important part of the dream content. For, when we pay attention to -our dreams, we often find cause to complain that we have dreamed much -more than we remember; that, unfortunately, we know nothing more than -this one fragment, and that even this seems to us peculiarly uncertain. -On the other hand, everything assures us that our memory reproduces the -dream not only fragmentarily but also delusively and falsely. Just as on -the one hand we may doubt whether the material dreamt was really as -disconnected and confused as we remember it, so on the other hand may we -doubt whether a dream was as connected as we relate it; whether in the -attempt at reproduction we have not filled in the gaps existing or -caused by forgetfulness with new material arbitrarily chosen; whether we -have not embellished, rounded off, and prepared the dream so that all -judgment as to its real content becomes impossible. Indeed, one author -(Spitta[64]) has expressed his belief that all that is orderly and -connected is really first put into the dream during our attempt to -recall it. Thus we are in danger of having wrested from our hands the -very subject whose value we have undertaken to determine. - -In our dream interpretations we have thus far ignored these warnings. -Indeed, the demand for interpretation was, on the contrary, found to be -no less perceptible in the smallest, most insignificant, and most -uncertain ingredients of the dream content than in those containing the -distinct and definite parts. In the dream of Irma’s injection we read, -“I quickly called in Dr. M.,” and we assumed that even this small -addendum would not have gotten into the dream if it had not had a -special derivation. Thus we reached the history of that unfortunate -patient to whose bed I “quickly” called in the older colleague. In the -apparently absurd dream which treated the difference between 51 and 56 -as _quantité négligé_, the number 51 was repeatedly mentioned. Instead -of finding this self-evident or indifferent, we inferred from it a -second train of thought in the latent content of the dream which led to -the number 51. By following up this clue we came to the fears which -placed 51 years as a limit of life, this being in most marked contrast -to a dominant train of thought which boastfully knew no limit to life. -In the dream “Non Vixit” I found, as an insignificant interposition that -I at first overlooked, the sentence, “As P. does not understand him, Fl. -asks me,” &c. The interpretation then coming to a standstill, I returned -to these words, and found through them the way to the infantile -phantasy, which appeared in the dream thoughts as an intermediary point -of junction. This came about by means of the poet’s verses: - - Seldom have you understood me, - Seldom have I understood you, - But when we got into the mire, - We at once understood each other. - -Every analysis will demonstrate by examples how the most insignificant -features of the dream are indispensable to the analysis, and how the -finishing of the task is delayed by the fact that attention is not at -first directed to them. In the same way we have in the interpretation of -dreams respected every nuance of verbal expression found in the dream; -indeed, if we were confronted by a senseless or insufficient wording -betraying an unsuccessful effort to translate the dream in the proper -style, we have even respected these defects of expression. In brief, -what the authorities have considered arbitrary improvisation, concocted -hastily to suit the occasion, we have treated like a sacred text. This -contradiction requires an explanation. - -It is in our favour, without disparagement to the authorities. From the -viewpoint of our newly-acquired understanding concerning the origin of -the dream, the contradictions fall into perfect agreement. It is true -that we distort the dream in our attempt to reproduce it; and herein we -find another instance of what we have designated as the often -misunderstood secondary elaboration of the dream through the influence -of normal thinking. But this distortion is itself only a part of the -elaboration to which the dream thoughts are regularly subjected by -virtue of the dream censor. The authorities have here divined or -observed that part of the dream distortion most obviously at work; to us -this is of little importance, for we know that a more prolific work of -distortion, not so easily comprehensible, has already chosen the dream -from among the concealed thoughts as its object. The authorities err -only in considering the modifications of the dream while it is being -recalled and put in words as arbitrary and insoluble; and hence, as -likely to mislead us in the interpretation of the dream. We -over-estimate the determination of the psychic. There is nothing -arbitrary in this field. It can quite generally be shown that a second -train of thought immediately undertakes the determination of the -elements which have been left undetermined by the first. I wish, _e.g._, -to think quite voluntarily of a number. This, however, is impossible. -The number that occurs to me is definitely and necessarily determined by -thoughts within me which may be far from my momentary intention.[FJ] -Just as far from arbitrary are the modifications which the dream -experiences through the revision of the waking state. They remain in -associative connection with the content, the place of which they take, -and serve to show us the way to this content, which may itself be the -substitute for another. - -In the analysis of dreams with patients I am accustomed to institute the -following proof of this assertion, which has never proved unsuccessful. -If the report of a dream appears to me at first difficult to understand, -I request the dreamer to repeat it. This he rarely does in the same -words. The passages wherein the expression is changed have become known -to me as the weak points of the dream’s disguise, which are of the same -service to me as the embroidered mark on Siegfried’s raiment was to -Hagen. The analysis may start from these points. The narrator has been -admonished by my announcement that I mean to take special pains to solve -the dream, and immediately, under the impulse of resistance, he protects -the weak points of the dream’s disguise, replacing the treacherous -expressions by remoter ones. He thus calls my attention to the -expressions he has dropped. From the efforts made to guard against the -solution of the dream, I can also draw conclusions as to the care with -which the dream’s raiment was woven. - -The authors are, however, less justified in giving so much importance to -the doubt which our judgment encounters in relating the dream. It is -true that this doubt betrays the lack of an intellectual assurance, but -our memory really knows no guarantees, and yet, much more often than is -objectively justified, we yield to the pressure of lending credence to -its statements. The doubt concerning the correct representation of the -dream, or of its individual data, is again only an offshoot of the dream -censor—that is, of the resistance against penetration to consciousness -of the dream thoughts. This resistance has not entirely exhausted itself -in bringing about the displacements and substitutions, and it therefore -adheres as doubt to what has been allowed to pass through. We can -recognise this doubt all the easier through the fact that it takes care -not to attack the intensive elements of the dream, but only the weak and -indistinct ones. For we already know that a transvaluation of all the -psychic values has taken place between the dream thoughts and the dream. -The disfigurement has been made possible only by the alteration of -values; it regularly manifests itself in this way and occasionally -contents itself with this. If doubt attaches to an indistinct element of -the dream content, we may, following the hint, recognise in this element -a direct offshoot of one of the outlawed dream thoughts. It is here just -as it was after a great revolution in one of the republics of antiquity -or of the Renaissance. The former noble and powerful ruling families are -now banished; all high positions are filled by upstarts; in the city -itself only the very poor and powerless citizens or the distant -followers of the vanquished party are tolerated. Even they do not enjoy -the full rights of citizenship. They are suspiciously watched. Instead -of the suspicion in the comparison, we have in our case the doubt. I -therefore insist that in the analysis of dreams one should emancipate -one’s self from the entire conception of estimating trustworthiness, and -when there is the slightest possibility that this or that occurred in -the dream, it should be treated as a full certainty. Until one has -decided to reject these considerations in tracing the dream elements, -the analysis will remain at a standstill. Antipathy toward the element -concerned shows its psychic effect in the person analysed by the fact -that the undesirable idea will evoke no thought in his mind. Such effect -is really not self-evident. It would not be inconsistent if one would -say: “Whether this or that was contained in the dream I do not know, but -the following thoughts occur to me in this direction.” But he never -expresses himself thus; and it is just this disturbing influence of -doubt in the analysis that stamps it as an offshoot and instrument of -the psychic resistance. Psychoanalysis is justly suspicious. One of its -rules reads: _Whatever disturbs the continuation of the work is a -resistance._ - -The forgetting of dreams, too, remains unfathomable as long as we do not -consider the force of the psychic censor in its explanation. The -feeling, indeed, that one has dreamt a great deal during the night and -has retained only a little of it may have another meaning in a number of -cases. It may perhaps signify that the dream-work has continued -perceptibly throughout the night, and has left behind only this short -dream. There is, however, no doubt of the fact that the dream is -progressively forgotten on awakening. One often forgets it in spite of -painful effort to remember. I believe, however, that just as one -generally over-estimates the extent of one’s forgetting, so also one -over-estimates the deficiencies in one’s knowledge, judging them by the -gaps occurring in the dream. All that has been lost through forgetting -in a dream content can often be brought back through analysis. At least, -in a whole series of cases, it is possible to discover from one single -remaining fragment, not the dream, to be sure, which is of little -importance, but all the thoughts of the dream. It requires a greater -expenditure of attention and self-control in the analysis; that is all. -But, at the same time, this suggests that the forgetting of the dream -does not lack a hostile intention. - -A convincing proof of the purposeful nature of dream-forgetting, in the -service of resistance, is gained in analysis through the investigation -of a preliminary stage of forgetting.[FK] It often happens that in the -midst of interpretation work an omitted fragment of the dream suddenly -comes to the surface. This part of the dream snatched from forgetfulness -is always the most important part. It lies on the shortest road toward -the solution of the dream, and for that very reason it was most -objectionable to the resistance. Among the examples of dreams that I -have collected in connection with this treatise, it once happened that I -had to interpose subsequently such a piece of dream content. It was a -travelling dream, which took vengeance upon an unlovable female -travelling companion; I have left it almost entirely uninterpreted on -account of its being in part coarse and nasty. The part omitted read: “I -said about a book by Schiller, ‘It is from ——’ but corrected myself, for -I noticed the mistake myself, ‘It is by.’ Upon this the man remarked to -his sister, ‘Indeed, he said it correctly.’” - -The self-correction in dreams, which seems so wonderful to some authors, -does not merit consideration by us. I shall rather show from my own -memory the model for the grammatical error in the dream. I was nineteen -years old when I visited England for the first time, and spent a day on -the shore of the Irish Sea. I naturally amused myself by catching the -sea animals left by the waves, and occupied myself in particular with a -starfish (the dream begins with Hollthurn—Holothurian), when a pretty -little girl came over to me and asked me, “Is it a starfish? Is it -alive?” I answered, “Yes, he is alive,” but was then ashamed of my -mistake and repeated the sentence correctly. For the grammatical mistake -which I then made, the dream substitutes another which is quite common -with Germans. “Das Buch ist von Schiller” should not be translated by -_the book is from_, but _the book is by_. That the dream-work produces -this substitution because the word _from_ makes possible, through -consonance, a remarkable condensation with the German adjective _fromm_ -(pious, devout), no longer surprises us after all that we have heard -about the aims of the dream-work and about its reckless selection of -means of procedure. But what is the meaning of the harmless recollection -of the seashore in relation to the dream? It explains by means of a very -innocent example that I have used the wrong gender—_i.e._ that I have -put “he,” the word denoting the sex or the sexual, where it does not -belong. This is surely one of the keys to the solution of dreams. Who -ever has heard of the origin of the book-title _Matter and Motion_ -(Molière in _Malade Imaginaire_: La matière est-elle laudable?—A motion -of the bowels) will readily be able to supply the missing parts. - -Moreover, I can prove conclusively by a _demonstratio ad oculos_ that -the forgetting in dreams is in great part due to the activity of -resistance. A patient tells me that he has dreamed, but that the dream -has vanished without leaving a trace, as if nothing had happened. We -continue to work, however; I strike a resistance which I make plain to -the patient; by encouraging and urging I help him to become reconciled -to some disagreeable thought; and as soon as I have succeeded he -exclaims, “Now, I can recall what I have dreamed.” The same resistance -which that day disturbed him in the work caused him also to forget the -dream. By overcoming this resistance, I brought the dream to memory. - -In the same way the patient may, on reaching a certain part of the work, -recall a dream which took place three, four, or more days before, and -which has rested in oblivion throughout all this time. - -Psychoanalytic experience has furnished us with another proof of the -fact that the forgetting of dreams depends more on the resistance than -on the strangeness existing between the waking and sleeping states, as -the authorities have believed. It often happens to me, as well as to the -other analysts and to patients under treatment, that we are awakened -from sleep by a dream, as we would say, and immediately thereafter, -while in full possession of our mental activity, we begin to interpret -the dream. In such cases I have often not rested until I gained a full -understanding of the dream, and still it would happen that after the -awakening I have just as completely forgotten the interpretation work as -the dream content itself, though I was aware that I had dreamed and that -I had interpreted the dream. The dream has more frequently taken along -into forgetfulness the result of the interpretation work than it was -possible for the mental activity to retain the dream in memory. But -between this interpretation work and the waking thoughts there is not -that psychic gap through which alone the authorities wish to explain the -forgetting of dreams. Morton Prince objects to my explanation of the -forgetting of dreams on the ground that it is only a particular example -of amnesia for dissociated states, and that the impossibility of -harmonising my theory with other types of amnesia makes it also -valueless for other purposes. He thus makes the reader suspect that in -all his description of such dissociated states he has never made the -attempt to find the dynamic explanation for these phenomena. For, had he -done so, he surely would have discovered that the repression and the -resistance produced thereby “is quite as well the cause of this -dissociation as of the amnesia for its psychic content.” - -That the dream is as little forgotten as the other psychic acts, and -that it clings to memory just as firmly as the other psychic activities -was demonstrated to me by an experiment which I was able to make while -compiling this manuscript. I have kept in my notes many dreams of my own -which, for some reason at the time I could analyse only imperfectly or -not at all. In order to get material to illustrate my assertions, I -attempted to subject some of them to analysis from one to two years -later. I succeeded in this attempt without any exception. Indeed, I may -even state that the interpretation went more easily at this later time -than at the time when the dreams were recent occurrences. As a possible -explanation for this fact, I would say that I had gotten over some of -the resistances which disturbed me at the time of dreaming. In such -subsequent interpretations I have compared the past results in dream -thoughts with the present, which have usually been more abundant, and -have invariably found the past results falling under the present without -change. I have, however, soon put an end to my surprise by recalling -that I have long been accustomed to interpret dreams from former years -which have occasionally been related to me by patients as if they were -dreams of the night before, with the same method and the same success. I -shall report two examples of such delayed dream interpretations in the -discussion of anxiety dreams. When I instituted this experiment for the -first time, I justly expected that the dream would behave in this -respect like a neurotic symptom. For when I treat a neurotic, perhaps an -hysteric, by psychoanalysis, I am compelled to find explanations for the -first symptoms of the disease which have long been forgotten, just as -for those still existing which have brought the patient to me; and I -find the former problem easier to solve than the more exigent one of -to-day. In the _Studien über Hysterie_, published as early as 1895, I -was able to report the explanation of a first hysterical attack of -anxiety which the patient, a woman over forty years of age, had -experienced in her fifteenth year.[FL] - -I may now proceed in an informal way to some further observations on the -interpretation of dreams, which will perhaps be of service to the reader -who wishes to test my assertion by the analysis of his own dreams. - -No one must expect that the interpretations of his dreams will come to -him overnight without any exertion. Practice is required even for the -perception of endoptic phenomena and other sensations usually withdrawn -from attention, although this group of perceptions is not opposed by any -psychic motive. It is considerably more difficult to become master of -the “undesirable presentations.” He who wishes to do this will have to -fulfil the requirements laid down in this treatise. Obeying the rules -here given, he will strive during the work to curb in himself every -critique, every prejudice, and every affective or intellectual -one-sidedness. We will always be mindful of the precept of Claude -Bernard for the experimenter in the physiological laboratory—“Travailler -comme une bête”—meaning he should be just as persistent, but also just -as unconcerned about the results. He who will follow these counsels will -surely no longer find the task difficult. The interpretation of a dream -cannot always be accomplished in one session; you often feel, after -following up a concatenation of thoughts, that your working capacity is -exhausted; the dream will not tell you anything more on that day; it is -then best to break off, and return to the work the following day. -Another portion of the dream content then solicits your attention, and -you thus find an opening to a new stratum of the dream thoughts. We may -call this the “fractionary” interpretation of dreams. - -It is most difficult to induce the beginner in the interpretation of -dreams to recognise the fact that his task is not finished though he is -in possession of a complete interpretation of the dream which is -ingenious and connected, and which explains all the elements of the -dream. Besides this another superimposed interpretation of the same -dream may be possible which has escaped him. It is really not simple to -form an idea of the abundant unconscious streams of thought striving for -expression in our minds, and to believe in the skilfulness displayed by -the dream-work in hitting, so to speak, with its ambiguous manner of -expression, seven flies with one stroke, like the journeyman tailor in -the fairy tale. The reader will constantly be inclined to reproach the -author for uselessly squandering his ingenuity, but anyone who has had -experience of his own will learn to know better. - -The question whether every dream can be interpreted may be answered in -the negative. One must not forget that in the work of interpretation one -must cope with the psychic forces which are responsible for the -distortion of the dream. Whether one can become master of the inner -resistances through his intellectual interest, his capacity for -self-control, his psychological knowledge, and his practice in dream -interpretation becomes a question of the preponderance of forces. It is -always possible to make some progress. One can at least go far enough to -become convinced that the dream is an ingenious construction, generally -far enough to gain an idea of its meaning. It happens very often that a -second dream confirms and continues the interpretation assumed for the -first. A whole series of dreams running for weeks or months rests on a -common basis, and is therefore to be interpreted in connection. In -dreams following each other, it may be often observed how one takes as -its central point what is indicated only as the periphery of the next, -or it is just the other way, so that the two supplement each other in -interpretation. That the different dreams of the same night are quite -regularly in the interpretation to be treated as a whole I have already -shown by examples. - -In the best interpreted dreams we must often leave one portion in -obscurity because we observe in the interpretation that it represents -the beginning of a tangle of dream thoughts which cannot be unravelled -but which has furnished no new contribution to the dream content. This, -then, is the keystone of the dream, the place at which it mounts into -the unknown. For the dream thoughts which we come upon in the -interpretation must generally remain without a termination, and merge in -all directions into the net-like entanglement of our world of thoughts. -It is from some denser portion of this texture that the dream-wish then -arises like the mushroom from its mycelium. - -Let us now return to the facts of dream-forgetting, as we have really -neglected to draw an important conclusion from them. If the waking life -shows an unmistakable intention to forget the dream formed at night, -either as a whole, immediately after awakening, or in fragments during -the course of the day, and if we recognise as the chief participator in -this forgetting the psychic resistance against the dream which has -already performed its part in opposing the dream at night—then the -question arises, What has the dream formation actually accomplished -against this resistance? Let us consider the most striking case in which -the waking life has done away with the dream as though it had never -happened. If we take into consideration the play of the psychic forces, -we are forced to assert that the dream would have never come into -existence had the resistance held sway during the night as during the -day. We conclude then, that the resistance loses a part of its force -during the night; we know that it has not been extinguished, as we have -demonstrated its interest in the dream formation in the production of -the distortion. We have, then, forced upon us the possibility that it -abates at night, that the dream formation has become possible with this -diminution of the resistance, and we thus readily understand that, -having regained its full power with the awakening, it immediately sets -aside what it was forced to admit as long as it was in abeyance. -Descriptive psychology teaches us that the chief determinant in dream -formation is the dormant state of the mind. We may now add the following -elucidation: _The sleeping state makes dream formation possible by -diminishing the endopsychic censor._ - -We are certainly tempted to look upon this conclusion as the only one -possible from the facts of dream-forgetting, and to develop from it -further deductions concerning the proportions of energy in the sleeping -and waking states. But we shall stop here for the present. When we have -penetrated somewhat deeper into the psychology of the dream we shall -find that the origin of the dream formation may be differently -conceived. The resistance operating to prevent the dream thoughts coming -to consciousness may perhaps be eluded without suffering diminution _per -se_. It is also plausible that both the factors favourable to dream -formation, the diminution as well as the eluding of the resistance, may -be made possible simultaneously through the sleeping state. But we shall -pause here, and continue this line of thought later. - -There is another series of objections against our procedure in the dream -interpretation which we must now consider. In this interpretation we -proceed by dropping all the end-presentations which otherwise control -reflection, we direct our attention to an individual element of the -dream, and then note the unwished-for thoughts that occur to us in this -connection. We then take up the next component of the dream content, and -repeat the operation with it; and, without caring in what direction the -thoughts take us, we allow ourselves to be led on by them until we end -by rambling from one subject to another. At the same time, we harbour -the confident hope that we may in the end, without effort, come upon the -dream thoughts from which our dream originated. Against this the critic -brings the following objection: That one can arrive somewhere, starting -from a single element in the dream is nothing wonderful. Something can -be associatively connected with every idea. It is remarkable only that -one should succeed in hitting the dream thoughts in this aimless and -arbitrary excursion of thought. It is probably a self-deception; the -investigator follows the chain of association from one element until for -some reason it is seen to break, when a second element is taken up; it -is thus but natural that the association, originally unbounded, should -now experience a narrowing. He keeps in mind the former chain of -associations, and he will therefore in analysis more easily hit upon -certain thoughts which have something in common with the thoughts from -the first chain. He then imagines that he has found a thought which -represents a point of junction between two elements of the dream. As he, -moreover, allows himself every freedom of thought connection, excepting -only the transitions from one idea to another which are made in normal -thinking, it is not finally difficult for him to concoct something which -he calls the dream thought out of a series of “intermediary thoughts”; -and without any guarantee, as they are otherwise unknown, he palms these -off as the psychic equivalent of the dream. But all this is accompanied -by arbitrary procedure and over-ingenious exploitation of coincidence. -Anyone who will go to this useless trouble can in this way work out any -desired interpretation for any dream whatever. - -If such objections are really advanced against us, we may refer in our -defence to the agreement of our dream interpretations, to the surprising -connections with other dream elements which appear in following out the -different particular presentations, and to the improbability that -anything which so perfectly covers and explains the dream as our dream -interpretations do could be gained otherwise than by following psychic -connections previously established. We can also justify ourselves by the -fact that the method of dream analysis is identical with the method used -in the solution of hysterical symptoms, where the correctness of the -method is attested through the emergence and fading away of the -symptoms—that is, where the elucidation of the text by the interposed -illustrations finds corroboration. But we have no object in avoiding -this problem—how one can reach to a pre-established aim by following a -chain of thoughts spun out thus arbitrarily and aimlessly—for, though we -are unable to solve the problem, we can get rid of it entirely. - -It is in fact demonstrably incorrect to state that we abandon ourselves -to an aimless course of thought when, as in the interpretation of -dreams, we relinquish our reflection and allow the unwished-for idea to -come to the surface. It can be shown that we can reject only those -end-presentations that are familiar to us, and that as soon as these -stop the unknown, or, as we say more precisely, the unconscious -end-presentations, immediately come into play, which now determined the -course of the unwished-for presentations. A mode of thinking without -end-idea can surely not be brought about through any influence we can -exert on our own mental life; nor do I know either of any state of -psychic derangement in which such mode of thought establishes itself. -The psychiatrists have in this field much too early rejected the -solidity of the psychic structure. I have ascertained that an -unregulated stream of thoughts, devoid of the end-presentation, occurs -as little in the realm of hysteria and paranoia as in the formation or -solution of dreams. Perhaps it does not appear at all in the endogenous -psychic affections, but even the deliria of confused states are senseful -according to the ingenious theory of Leuret and become incomprehensible -to us only through omissions. I have come to the same conviction -wherever I have found opportunity for observation. The deliria are the -work of a censor which no longer makes any effort to conceal its sway, -which, instead of lending its support to a revision no longer obnoxious -to it, cancels regardlessly that which it raises objections against, -thus causing the remnant to appear disconnected. This censor behaves -analogously to the Russian newspaper censor on the frontier, who allows -to fall into the hands of his protected readers only those foreign -journals that have passed under the black pencil. - -The free play of the presentations following any associative -concatenation perhaps makes its appearance in destructive organic brain -lesions. What, however, is taken as such in the psychoneuroses can -always be explained as the influence of the censor on a series of -thoughts which have been pushed into the foreground by the concealed -end-presentation.[FM] It has been considered an unmistakable sign of -association free from the end-presentations when the emerging -presentations (or pictures) were connected with one another by means of -the so-called superficial associations—that is, by assonance, word -ambiguity, and causal connection without inner sense relationship; in -other words, when they were connected through all those associations -which we allow ourselves to make use of in wit and play upon words. This -distinguishing mark proves true for the connections of thought which -lead us from the elements of the dream content to the collaterals, and -from these to the thoughts of the dream proper; of this we have in our -dream analysis found many surprising examples. No connection was there -too loose and no wit too objectionable to serve as a bridge from one -thought to another. But the correct understanding of such tolerance is -not remote. _Whenever one psychic element is connected with another -through an obnoxious or superficial association, there also exists a -correct and more profound connection between the two which succumbs to -the resistance of the censor._ - -The correct explanation for the predominance of the superficial -associations is the pressure of the censor, and not the suppression of -the end-presentations. The superficial associations supplant the deep -ones in the presentation whenever the censor renders the normal -connective paths impassable. It is as if in a mountainous region a -general interruption of traffic, _e.g._, an inundation, should render -impassable the long and broad thoroughfares; traffic would then have to -be maintained through inconvenient and steep footpaths otherwise used -only by the hunter. - -We can here distinguish two cases which, however, are essentially one. -In the first case the censor is directed only against the connection of -the two thoughts, which, having been detached from each other, escape -the opposition. The two thoughts then enter successively into -consciousness; their connection remains concealed; but in its place -there occurs to us a superficial connection between the two which we -would not otherwise have thought of, and which as a rule connects with -another angle of the presentation complex instead of with the one giving -rise to the suppressed but essential connection. Or, in the second case, -both thoughts on account of their content succumb to the censor; both -then appear not in their correct but in a modified substituted form; and -both substituted thoughts are so selected that they represent, through a -superficial association, the essential relation which existed between -those which have been replaced by them. Under the pressure of the censor -the displacement of a normal and vital association by a superficial and -apparently absurd one has thus occurred in both cases. - -Because we know of this displacement we unhesitatingly place reliance -even upon superficial associations in the dream analysis.[FN] - -The psychoanalysis of neurotics makes prolific use of the two axioms, -first that with the abandonment of the conscious end-presentation the -domination of the train of presentation is transferred to the concealed -end-presentations; and, secondly, that superficial associations are only -a substitutive displacement for suppressed and more profound ones; -indeed, psychoanalysis raises these two axioms to pillars of its -technique. When I request a patient to dismiss all reflection, and to -report to me whatever comes into his mind, I firmly cling to the -presupposition that he will not be able to drop the end-idea of the -treatment, and I feel justified in concluding that what he reports, even -though seemingly most harmless and arbitrary, has connection with this -morbid state. My own personality is another end-presentation concerning -which the patient has no inkling. The full appreciation, as well as the -detailed proof of both these explanations, belongs accordingly to the -description of the psychoanalytic technique as a therapeutic method. We -have here reached one of the allied subjects with which we propose to -leave the subject of the interpretation of dreams.[FO] - -Of all the objections only one is correct, and still remains, namely, -that we ought not to ascribe all mental occurrences of the -interpretation work to the nocturnal dream-work. In the interpretation -in the waking state we are making a road running from the dream elements -back to the dream thoughts. The dream-work has made its way in the -opposite direction, and it is not at all probable that these roads are -equally passable in the opposite directions. It has, on the contrary, -been shown that during the day, by means of new thought connections we -make paths which strike the intermediate thoughts and the dream thoughts -in different places. We can see how the recent thought material of the -day takes its place in the groups of the interpretation, and probably -also forces the additional resistance appearing through the night to -make new and further detours. But the number and form of the collaterals -which we thus spin during the day is psychologically perfectly -negligible if it only leads the way to the desired dream thoughts. - - - (_b_) _Regression._ - -Now that we have guarded against objection, or at least indicated where -our weapons for defence rest, we need no longer delay entering upon the -psychological investigations for which we have so long prepared. Let us -bring together the main results of our investigations up to this point. -The dream is a momentous psychic act; its motive power is at all times -to fulfil a wish; its indiscernibleness as a wish and its many -peculiarities and absurdities are due to the influence of the psychic -censor to which it has been subjected during its formation. Apart from -the pressure to withdraw itself from this censor, the following have -played a part in its formation: a strong tendency to the condensation of -psychic material, a consideration for dramatisation into mental -pictures, and (though not regularly) a consideration for a rational and -intelligible exterior in the dream structure. From every one of these -propositions the road leads further to psychological postulates and -assumptions. Thus the reciprocal relation of the wish motives and the -four conditions, as well as the relations of these conditions to one -another will have to be investigated; and the dream will have to be -brought into association with the psychic life. - -At the beginning of this chapter we cited a dream in order to remind us -of the riddles that are still unsolved. The interpretation of this dream -of the burning child afforded us no difficulties, although it was not -perfectly given in our present sense. We asked ourselves why it was -necessary, after all, that the father should dream instead of awakening, -and we recognised the wish to represent the child as living as the -single motive of the dream. That there was still another wish playing a -part in this connection, we shall be able to show after later -discussions. For the present, therefore, we may say that for the sake of -the wish-fulfilment the mental process of sleep was transformed into a -dream. - -If the wish realisation is made retrogressive, only one quality still -remains which separates the two forms of psychic occurrences from each -other. The dream thought might have read: “I see a glimmer coming from -the room in which the corpse reposes. Perhaps a candle has been upset, -and the child is burning!” The dream reports the result of this -reflection unchanged, but represents it in a situation which takes place -in the present, and which is conceivable by the senses like an -experience in the waking state. This, however, is the most common and -the most striking psychological character of the dream; a thought, -usually the one wished for, is in the dream made objective and -represented as a scene, or, according to our belief, as experienced. - -But how are we now to explain this characteristic peculiarity of the -dream-work, or, to speak more modestly, how are we to bring it into -relation with the psychic processes? - -On closer examination, it is plainly seen that there are two pronounced -characters in the manifestations of the dream which are almost -independent of each other. The one is the representation as a present -situation with the omission of the “perhaps”; the other is the -transformation of the thought into visual pictures and into speech. - -The transformation in the dream thoughts, which shifts into the present -the expectation expressed in them, is perhaps in this particular dream -not so very striking. This is probably in consonance with the special or -rather subsidiary rôle of the wish-fulfilment in this dream. Let us take -another dream in which the dream-wish does not separate itself in sleep -from a continuation of the waking thoughts, _e.g._, the dream of Irma’s -injection. Here the dream thought reaching representation is in the -optative, “If Otto could only be blamed for Irma’s sickness!” The dream -suppresses the optative, and replaces it by a simple present, “Yes, Otto -is to blame for Irma’s sickness.” This is therefore the first of the -changes which even the undistorted dream undertakes with the dream -thought. But we shall not stop long at this first peculiarity of the -dream. We elucidate it by a reference to the conscious phantasy, the day -dream, which behaves similarly with its presentation content. When -Daudet’s Mr. Joyeuse wanders through the streets of Paris unemployed -while his daughter is led to believe that he has a position and is in -his office, he likewise dreams in the present of circumstances that -might help him to obtain protection and a position. The dream therefore -employs the present in the same manner and with the same right as the -day dream. The present is the tense in which the wish is represented as -fulfilled. - -The second quality, however, is peculiar to the dream as distinguished -from the day dream, namely, that the presentation content is not -thought, but changed into perceptible images to which we give credence -and which we believe we experience. Let us add, however, that not all -dreams show this transformation of presentation into perceptible images. -There are dreams which consist solely of thoughts to which we cannot, -however, on that account deny the substantiality of dreams. My dream -“Autodidasker—the waking phantasy with Professor N.”—is of that nature; -it contains hardly more perceptible elements than if I had thought its -content during the day. Moreover, every long dream contains elements -which have not experienced the transformation into the perceptible, and -which are simply thought or known as we are wont to think or know in our -waking state. We may also recall here that such transformation of ideas -into perceptible images does not occur in dreams only but also in -hallucinations and visions which perhaps appear spontaneously in health -or as symptoms in the psychoneuroses. In brief, the relation which we -are investigating here is in no way an exclusive one; the fact remains, -however, that where this character of the dream occurs, it appears to us -as the most noteworthy, so that we cannot think of it apart from the -dream life. Its explanation, however, requires a very detailed -discussion. - -Among all the observations on the theory of dreams to be found in -authorities on the subject, I should like to lay stress upon one as -being worth mentioning. The great G. T. Fechner[35] expresses his belief -(_Psychophysik_, Part II., p. 520), in connection with some discussion -devoted to the dream, that the seat of the dream is elsewhere than in -the waking ideation. No other theory enables us to conceive the special -qualities of the dream life. - -The idea which is placed at our disposal is one of psychic locality. We -shall entirely ignore the fact that the psychic apparatus with which we -are here dealing is also familiar to us as an anatomical specimen, and -we shall carefully avoid the temptation to determine the psychic -locality in any way anatomically. We shall remain on psychological -ground, and we shall think ourselves called upon only to conceive the -instrument which serves the psychic activities somewhat after the manner -of a compound microscope, a photographic or other similar apparatus. The -psychic locality, then, corresponds to a place within such an apparatus -in which one of the primary elements of the picture comes into -existence. As is well known, there are in the microscope and telescope -partly fanciful locations or regions in which no tangible portion of the -apparatus is located. I think it superfluous to apologise for the -imperfections of this and all similar figures. These comparisons are -designed only to assist us in our attempt to make clear the complication -of the psychic activity by breaking up this activity and referring the -single activities to the single component parts of the apparatus. No -one, so far as I know, has ever ventured to attempt to discover the -composition of the psychic instrument through such analysis. I see no -harm in such an attempt. I believe that we may give free rein to our -assumptions provided we at the same time preserve our cool judgment and -do not take the scaffolding for the building. As we need nothing except -auxiliary ideas for the first approach to any unknown subject, we shall -prefer the crudest and most tangible hypothesis to all others. - -We therefore conceive the psychic apparatus as a compound instrument, -the component parts of which let us call instances, or, for the sake of -clearness, systems. We then entertain the expectation that these systems -perhaps maintain a constant spatial relationship to each other like the -different systems of lenses of the telescope, one behind another. -Strictly speaking, there is no need of assuming a real spatial -arrangement of the psychic system. It will serve our purpose if a firm -sequence be established through the fact that in certain psychological -occurrences the system will be traversed by the excitement in a definite -chronological order. This sequence may experience an alteration in other -processes; such possibility may be left open. For the sake of brevity, -we shall henceforth speak of the component parts of the apparatus as -“Ψ-systems.” - -The first thing that strikes us is the fact that the apparatus composed -of Ψ-systems has a direction. All our psychic activities proceed from -(inner or outer) stimuli and terminate in innervations. We thus ascribe -to the apparatus a sensible and a motor end; at the sensible end we find -a system which receives the perceptions, and at the motor end another -which opens the locks of motility. The psychic process generally takes -its course from the perception end to the motility end. The most common -scheme of the psychic apparatus has therefore the following appearance: - -[Illustration: FIG. 1.] - -But this is only in compliance with the demand long familiar to us, that -the psychic apparatus must be constructed like a reflex apparatus. The -reflex act remains the model for every psychic activity. - -We have now reason to admit a first differentiation at the sensible end. -The perceptions that come to us leave a trace in our psychic apparatus -which we may call a “Memory trace.” The function which relates to this -memory trace we call the memory. If we hold seriously to our resolution -to connect the psychic processes into systems, the memory trace can then -consist only of lasting changes in the elements of the systems. But, as -has already been shown in other places, obvious difficulties arise if -one and the same system faithfully preserves changes in its elements and -still remains fresh and capable of admitting new motives for change. -Following the principle which directs our undertaking, we shall -distribute these two activities among two different systems. We assume -that a first system of the apparatus takes up the stimuli of perception, -but retains nothing from them—that is, it has no memory; and that behind -this there lies a second system which transforms the momentary -excitement of the first into lasting traces. This would then be a -diagram of our psychic apparatus: - -[Illustration: FIG. 2.] - -It is known that from the perceptions that act on the P-system we retain -something else as lasting as the content itself. Our perceptions prove -to be connected with one another in memory, and this is especially the -case when they have once fallen together in simultaneity. We call this -the fact of association. It is now clear that if the P-system is -entirely lacking in memory, it certainly cannot preserve traces for the -associations; the individual P-elements would be intolerably hindered in -their function if a remnant of former connection should make its -influence felt against a new perception. Hence we must, on the contrary, -assume that the memory system is the basis of the association. The fact -of the association, then, consists in this—that, in consequence of the -diminutions in resistance and a smoothing of the ways from one of the -Mem-elements, the excitement transmits itself to a second rather than to -a third Mem-system. - -On further investigation we find it necessary to assume not one but many -such Mem-systems, in which the same excitement propagated by the -P-elements experiences a diversified fixation. The first of these -Mem-systems will contain in any case the fixation of the association -through simultaneity, while in those lying further away the same -exciting material will be arranged according to other forms of -concurrence; so that relationships of similarity, &c., might perhaps be -represented through these later systems. It would naturally be idle to -attempt to report in words the psychic significance of such a system. -Its characteristic would lie in the intimacy of its relations to -elements of raw memory material—that is, if we wish to point to a -profounder theory in the gradations of the resistances to conduction -toward these elements. - -We may insert here an observation of a general nature which points -perhaps to something of importance. The P-system, which possesses no -capability of preserving changes and hence no memory, furnishes for our -consciousness the entire manifoldness of the sensible qualities. Our -memories, on the other hand, are unconscious in themselves; those that -are most deeply impressed form no exception. They can be made conscious, -but there can be no doubt that they develop all their influences in the -unconscious state. What we term our character is based, to be sure, on -the memory traces of our impressions, and indeed on these impressions -that have affected us most strongly, those of our early youth—those that -almost never become conscious. But when memories become conscious again -they show no sensible quality or a very slight one in comparison to the -perceptions. If, now, it can be confirmed _that memory and quality -exclude each other, as far as consciousness in the Ψ-systems is -concerned_, a most promising insight reveals itself to us in the -determinations of the neuron excitement. - -What we have so far assumed concerning the composition of the psychic -apparatus at the sensible end follows regardless of the dream and the -psychological explanations derived from it. The dream, however, serves -as a source of proof for the knowledge of another part of the apparatus. -We have seen that it became impossible to explain the dream formation -unless we ventured to assume two psychic instances, one of which -subjected the activity of the other to a critique as a consequence of -which the exclusion from consciousness resulted. - -We have seen that the criticising instance entertains closer relations -with consciousness than the criticised. The former stands between the -latter and consciousness like a screen. We have, moreover, found -essential reasons for identifying the criticising instance with that -which directs our waking life and determines our voluntary conscious -actions. If we now replace these instances in the development of our -theory by systems, the criticising system is then to be ascribed to the -motor end because of the fact just mentioned. We now enter both systems -in our scheme, and express by the names given them their relation to -consciousness. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.] - -The last of the systems at the motor end we call the foreconscious in -order to denote that exciting processes in this system can reach -consciousness without any further detention provided certain other -conditions be fulfilled, _e.g._, the attainment of a certain intensity, -a certain distribution of that function which must be called attention, -and the like. This is at the same time the system which possesses the -keys to voluntary motility. The system behind it we call the unconscious -because it has no access to consciousness except through the -foreconscious, in the passage through which its excitement must submit -to certain changes. - -In which of these systems, now, do we localise the impulse to the dream -formation? For the Sake of simplicity, let us say in the system Unc. To -be sure we shall find in later discussions that this is not quite -correct, that the dream formation is forced to connect with dream -thoughts which belong to the system of the foreconscious. But we shall -learn later, when we come to deal with the dream-wish, that the motive -power for the dream is furnished by the Unc., and, owing to this latter -movement, we shall assume the unconscious system as the starting-point -of the dream formation. This dream impulse, like all other thought -structures, will now strive to continue itself in the foreconscious, and -thence to gain admission to consciousness. - -Experience teaches us that the road leading from the foreconscious to -consciousness is closed to the dream thoughts during the day by the -resistance of the censor. At night the dream thoughts gain admission to -consciousness, but the question arises, in what way and because of what -change. If this admission was rendered possible to the dream thoughts -through the fact that the resistance watching on the boundary between -the unconscious and foreconscious sinks at night, we should then get -dreams in the material of our presentations which did not show the -hallucinatory character which just now interests us. - -The sinking of the censor between the two systems, Unc. and Forec., can -explain to us only such dreams as “Autodidasker,” but not dreams like -the one of the burning child, which we have taken as a problem at the -outset in these present investigations. - -What takes place in the hallucinatory dream we can describe in no other -way than by saying that the excitement takes a retrogressive course. It -takes its station, not at the motor end of the apparatus, but at the -sensible end, and finally reaches the system of the perceptions. If we -call the direction towards which the psychic process continues from the -unconscious into the waking state the progressive, we may then speak of -the dream as having a regressive character. - -This regression is surely one of the most important peculiarities of the -dream process; but we must not forget that it does not belong to the -dream alone. The intentional recollection and other processes of our -normal thinking also require a retrogression in the psychic apparatus -from any complex presentation act to the raw material of the memory -traces lying at its basis. But during the waking state this turning -backward does not reach beyond the memory pictures; it is unable to -produce the hallucinatory vividness of the perception pictures. Why is -this different in the dream? When we spoke of the condensation work of -the dream we could not avoid the assumption that the intensities -adhering to the presentations are fully transferred from one to another -through the dream-work. It is probably this modification of the former -psychic process which makes possible the occupation of the system of P -to its full sensual vividness in the opposite direction from thought. - -I hope that we are far from deluding ourselves about the importance of -this present discussion. We have done nothing more than give a name to -an inexplicable phenomenon. We call it regression if the presentation in -the dream is changed back to the perceptible image from which it once -originated. But even this step demands justification. Why this naming, -if it does not teach us anything new? I believe, however, that the name -“Regression” will serve us to the extent of connecting a fact familiar -to us with a scheme of the psychic apparatus which is supplied with a -direction. At this point, for the first time, it is worth the trouble to -construct such a scheme. For, with the help of this scheme, any other -peculiarity of the dream formation will become clear to us without -further reflection. If we look upon the dream as a process of regression -in the assumed psychic apparatus, we can readily understand the -empirically proven fact that all mental relation of the dream thoughts -either is lost in the dream-work or can come to expression only with -difficulty. According to our scheme, these mental relations are -contained not in the first Mem-systems, but in those lying further to -the front, and in the regression they must forfeit their expression in -favour of the perception pictures. _The structure of the dream thoughts -is in the regression broken up into its raw material._ - -But what change renders possible this regression which is impossible -during the day? Let us here be content with assumption. There must -evidently be some alterations in the charge of energy belonging to the -single systems causing the latter to become accessible or inaccessible -to the discharge of the excitement; but in any such apparatus the same -effect upon the course of excitement might be brought about through more -than one form of such changes. This naturally reminds us of the state of -sleep and of the many changes of energy this state produces at the -sensible end of the apparatus. During the day there is a continuous -coursing stream from the Ψ-system of the P toward the motility; this -current ceases at night, and no longer hinders a streaming of the -current of excitement in the opposite direction. This would appear to be -that “seclusion from the outer world” which according to the theory of -some authors is supposed to explain the psychological character of the -dream (_vide_ p. 30). In the explanation of the regression of the dream -we shall, however, have to consider those other regressions which -originate during morbid waking states. In these other forms the -explanation just given plainly leaves us in the lurch. Regression takes -place in spite of the uninterrupted sensible current in a progressive -direction. - -The hallucinations of hysteria and paranoia, as well as the visions of -mentally normal persons, I can explain as actually corresponding to -regressions, being in fact thoughts transformed into images; and only -such thoughts are subjected to this transformation as are in intimate -connection with suppressed or unconscious recollections. As an example I -shall cite one of my youngest hysterical patients—a boy, twelve years -old, who was prevented from falling asleep by “_green faces with red -eyes_,” which terrified him. The source of this manifestation was the -suppressed, but once conscious, memory of a boy whom he had often seen -during four years, and who offered him a deterring example of many -childish bad habits, including onanism, which now formed the subject of -his own reproach. His mother had noticed at the time that the complexion -of the ill-bred boy was greenish and that he had _red_ (_i.e. red -bordered_) _eyes_. Hence the terrible vision which constantly served to -remind him of his mother’s warning that such boys become demented, that -they are unable to make progress at school, and are doomed to an early -death. A part of this prediction came true in the case of the little -patient; he could not successfully pursue his high school studies, and, -as appeared on examination of his involuntary fancies, he stood in great -dread of the remainder of the prophecy. However, after a brief period of -successful treatment, his sleep was restored, he lost his fears, and -finished his scholastic year with an excellent record. - -I may also add here the interpretation of a vision related to me by an -hysteric forty years of age, as having occurred in her normal life. On -opening her eyes one morning she beheld in the room her brother, whom -she knew to be confined in an insane asylum. Her little son was asleep -by her side. Lest the child should be frightened on seeing his uncle, -and fall into convulsions, she pulled the sheet over the little one; -this done, the phantom disappeared. This vision is the re-casting of one -of her infantile reminiscences which, although conscious, is most -intimately connected with all the unconscious material in her mind. Her -nursemaid told her that her mother, who had died young (the patient was -then only a year and a half old), had suffered from epileptic or -hysterical convulsions, which dated back to a fright caused by her -brother (the patient’s uncle), who appeared to her disguised as a -spectre with a sheet over his head. The vision contains the same -elements as the reminiscence, viz. the appearance of the brother, the -sheet, the fright, and its effect. These elements, however, are ranged -in different relations, and are transferred to other persons. The -obvious motive of the vision, which replaces the idea, is her solicitude -lest her little son, who bore a striking resemblance to his uncle, -should share the latter’s fate. Both examples here cited are not -entirely unrelated to sleep, and may therefore be unsuitable as proof -for my assertion. I may therefore refer to my analysis of an -hallucinatory paranoia,[FP] and to the results of my hitherto -unpublished studies on the psychology of the psychoneuroses in order to -emphasize the fact that in these cases of regressive thought -transformation one must not overlook the influence of a suppressed or -unconscious reminiscence, this being in most cases of an infantile -character. This recollection, so to speak, draws into the regression the -thought with which it is connected, which is prevented from expression -by the censor—that is, into that form of representation in which the -recollection itself exists psychically. I may here mention as a result -of my studies in hysteria that if we succeed in restoring infantile -scenes to consciousness (whether recollections or fancies) they are seen -as hallucinations, and are divested of this character only after -reproduction. It is also known that the earliest infantile memories -retain the character of perceptible vividness until late in life, even -in persons who are otherwise not visual in memory. - -If, now, we keep in mind what part is played in the dream thoughts by -the infantile reminiscences or the phantasies based upon them, how often -fragments of these reminiscences emerge in the dream content, and how -often they even give origin to dream wishes, we cannot deny the -probability that in the dream, too, the transformation of thoughts into -visual images may be the result of the attraction exerted by the -visually represented reminiscences, striving for reanimation, upon the -thoughts severed from consciousness and struggling for expression. -Following this conception, we may further describe the dream as a -modified substitute for the infantile scene produced by transference to -recent material. The infantile cannot enforce its renewal, and must -therefore be satisfied to return as a dream. - -This reference to the significance of the infantile scenes (or of their -phantastic repetitions), as in a manner furnishing the pattern for the -dream content, renders superfluous the assumption made by Scherner and -his pupils, of an inner source of excitement. Scherner assumes a state -of “visual excitation” of internal excitement in the organ of sight when -the dreams manifest a particular vividness or a special abundance of -visual elements. We need not object to this assumption, but may be -satisfied with establishing such state of excitation for the psychic -perceptive system of the organs of vision only; we shall, however, -assert that this state of excitation is formed through the memory, and -is merely a refreshing of the former actual visual excitation. I cannot, -from my own experience, give a good example showing such an influence of -infantile reminiscence; my own dreams are surely less rich in -perceptible elements than I must fancy those of others; but in my most -beautiful and most vivid dream of late years I can easily trace the -hallucinatory distinctness of the dream contents to the sensuous nature -of recently received impressions. On page 368 I mentioned a dream in -which the dark blue colour of the water, the brown colour of the smoke -issuing from the ship’s funnels, and the sombre brown and red of the -buildings which I had seen made a profound and lasting impression on my -mind. This dream, if any, must be attributed to visual excitation. But -what has brought my visual organ into this excitable state? It was a -recent impression uniting itself with a series of former ones. The -colours I beheld were those of the toy blocks with which my children -erected a grand structure for my admiration on the day preceding the -dream. The same sombre red colour covered the large blocks and the same -blue and brown the small ones. Connected with these were the colour -impression of my last journey in Italy, the charming blue of the Isonzo -and the Lagoon, the brown hue of the Alpine region. The beautiful -colours seen in the dream were but a repetition of those seen in the -memory. - -Let us review what we have learned about this peculiarity which the -dream has of transforming its content of ideas into plastic images. We -have neither explained this character of the dream-work nor traced it to -known laws of psychology, but we have singled it out as pointing to -unknown connections, and designated it by the name of the “regredient” -character. Wherever this regression has occurred, we have regarded it as -an effect of the resistance which opposes the progress of the thought on -its normal way to consciousness, as well as a result of the simultaneous -attraction exerted upon it by the vivid memories present. Regression is -perhaps facilitated in the dream by the cessation of the progressive -stream running from the sense organs during the day. For this auxiliary -moment there must be compensation in the other forms of regression -through a fortifying of the other motives of regression. We must also -bear in mind that in pathological cases of regression, as in the dream, -the process of transference of energy must be different from that of the -regressions of normal psychic life, as it renders possible a full -hallucinatory occupation of the perception systems. What we have -described in the analysis of the dream-work as “Regard for Dramatic -Fitness” may be referred to the selective attraction of visually -recollected scenes, touched by the dream thoughts. - -It is quite possible that this first part of our psychological -utilisation of the dream does not entirely satisfy even us. We must, -however, console ourselves with the fact that we are compelled to build -in the dark. If we have not altogether strayed from the right path, we -shall be sure to reach about the same ground from another -starting-point, and thereafter perhaps be better able to see our way. - - - (_c_) _The Wish-Fulfilment._ - -The dream of the burning child cited above affords us a welcome -opportunity for appreciating the difficulties confronting the theory of -wish-fulfilment. That the dream should be nothing but a wish-fulfilment -surely seemed strange to us all—and that not alone because of the -contradictions offered by the anxiety dream. - -After learning from the first analytical explanations that the dream -conceals sense and psychic validity, we could hardly expect so simple a -determination of this sense. According to the correct but concise -definition of Aristotle, the dream is a continuation of thinking in -sleep (in so far as one sleeps). Considering that during the day our -thoughts produce such a diversity of psychic acts—judgments, -conclusions, contradictions, expectations, intentions, &c.—why should -our sleeping thoughts be forced to confine themselves to the production -of wishes? Are there not, on the contrary, many dreams that present a -different psychic act in dream form, _e.g._, a solicitude, and is not -the very transparent father’s dream mentioned above of just such a -nature? From the gleam of light falling into his eyes while asleep the -father draws the solicitous conclusion that a candle has been upset and -may have set fire to the corpse; he transforms this conclusion into a -dream by investing it with a senseful situation enacted in the present -tense. What part is played in this dream by the wish-fulfilment, and -which are we to suspect—the predominance of the thought continued from -the waking state or of the thought incited by the new sensory -impression? - -All these considerations are just, and force us to enter more deeply -into the part played by the wish-fulfilment in the dream, and into the -significance of the waking thoughts continued in sleep. - -It is in fact the wish-fulfilment that has already induced us to -separate dreams into two groups. We have found some dreams that were -plainly wish-fulfilments; and others in which wish-fulfilment could not -be recognised, and was frequently concealed by every available means. In -this latter class of dreams we recognised the influence of the dream -censor. The undisguised wish dreams were chiefly found in children, yet -fleeting open-hearted wish dreams _seemed_ (I purposely emphasize this -word) to occur also in adults. - -We may now ask whence the wish fulfilled in the dream originates. But to -what opposition or to what diversity do we refer this “whence”? I think -it is to the opposition between conscious daily life and a psychic -activity remaining unconscious which can only make itself noticeable -during the night. I thus find a threefold possibility for the origin of -a wish. Firstly, it may have been incited during the day, and owing to -external circumstances failed to find gratification, there is thus left -for the night an acknowledged but unfulfilled wish. Secondly, it may -come to the surface during the day but be rejected, leaving an -unfulfilled but suppressed wish. Or, thirdly, it may have no relation to -daily life, and belong to those wishes that originate during the night -from the suppression. If we now follow our scheme of the psychic -apparatus, we can localise a wish of the first order in the system -Forec. We may assume that a wish of the second order has been forced -back from the Forec. system into the Unc. system, where alone, if -anywhere, it can maintain itself; while a wish-feeling of the third -order we consider altogether incapable of leaving the Unc. system. This -brings up the question whether wishes arising from these different -sources possess the same value for the dream, and whether they have the -same power to incite a dream. - -On reviewing the dreams which we have at our disposal for answering this -question, we are at once moved to add as a fourth source of the -dream-wish the actual wish incitements arising during the night, such as -thirst and sexual desire. It then becomes evident that the source of the -dream-wish does not affect its capacity to incite a dream. This view is -supported by the dream of the little girl who continued the sea trip -interrupted during the day, and by the other children’s dreams referred -to; they are explained by an unfulfilled but not suppressed wish from -the day-time. That a wish suppressed during the day asserts itself in -the dream can be shown by a great many examples. I shall mention a very -simple example of this class. A somewhat sarcastic young lady, whose -younger friend has become engaged to be married, is asked throughout the -day by her acquaintances whether she knows and what she thinks of the -fiancé. She answers with unqualified praise, thereby silencing her own -judgment, as she would prefer to tell the truth, namely, that he is an -ordinary person (Dutzendmensch).[FQ] The following night she dreams that -the same question is put to her, and that she replies with the formula: -“In case of subsequent orders it will suffice to mention the number.” -Finally, we have learned from numerous analyses that the wish in all -dreams that have been subject to distortion has been derived from the -unconscious, and has been unable to come to perception in the waking -state. Thus it would appear that all wishes are of the same value and -force for the dream formation. - -I am at present unable to prove that the state of affairs is really -different, but I am strongly inclined to assume a more stringent -determination of the dream-wish. Children’s dreams leave no doubt that -an unfulfilled wish of the day may be the instigator of the dream. But -we must not forget that it is, after all, the wish of a child, that it -is a wish-feeling of infantile strength only. I have a strong doubt -whether an unfulfilled wish from the day would suffice to create a dream -in an adult. It would rather seem that as we learn to control our -impulses by intellectual activity, we more and more reject as vain the -formation or retention of such intense wishes as are natural to -childhood. In this, indeed, there may be individual variations; some -retain the infantile type of psychic processes longer than others. The -differences are here the same as those found in the gradual decline of -the originally distinct visual imagination. - -In general, however, I am of the opinion that unfulfilled wishes of the -day are insufficient to produce a dream in adults. I readily admit that -the wish instigators originating in conscious life contribute towards -the incitement of dreams, but that is probably all. The dream would not -originate if the foreconscious wish were not reinforced from another -source. - -That source is the unconscious. I believe that _the conscious wish is a -dream inciter only if it succeeds in arousing a similar unconscious wish -which reinforces it_. Following the suggestions obtained through the -psychoanalysis of the neuroses, I believe that these unconscious wishes -are always active and ready for expression whenever they find an -opportunity to unite themselves with an emotion from conscious life, and -that they transfer their greater intensity to the lesser intensity of -the latter.[FR] It may therefore seem that the conscious wish alone has -been realised in a dream; but a slight peculiarity in the formation of -this dream will put us on the track of the powerful helper from the -unconscious. These ever active and, as it were, immortal wishes from the -unconscious recall the legendary Titans who from time immemorial have -borne the ponderous mountains which were once rolled upon them by the -victorious gods, and which even now quiver from time to time from the -convulsions of their mighty limbs; I say that these wishes found in the -repression are of themselves of an infantile origin, as we have learned -from the psychological investigation of the neuroses. I should like, -therefore, to withdraw the opinion previously expressed that it is -unimportant whence the dream-wish originates, and replace it by another, -as follows: _The wish manifested in the dream must be an infantile one._ -In the adult it originates in the Unc., while in the child, where no -separation and censor as yet exist between Forec. and Unc., or where -these are only in the process of formation, it is an unfulfilled and -unrepressed wish from the waking state. I am aware that this conception -cannot be generally demonstrated, but I maintain nevertheless that it -can be frequently demonstrated, even where it was not suspected, and -that it cannot be generally refuted. - -The wish-feelings which remain from the conscious waking state are, -therefore, relegated to the background in the dream formation. In the -dream content I shall attribute to them only the part attributed to the -material of actual sensations during sleep (see p. 185). If I now take -into account those other psychic instigations remaining from the waking -state which are not wishes, I shall only adhere to the line mapped out -for me by this train of thought. We may succeed in provisionally -terminating the sum of energy of our waking thoughts by deciding to go -to sleep. He is a good sleeper who can do this; Napoleon I. is reputed -to have been a model of this sort. But we do not always succeed in -accomplishing it, or in accomplishing it perfectly. Unsolved problems, -harassing cares, overwhelming impressions continue the thinking activity -even during sleep, maintaining psychic processes in the system which we -have termed the foreconscious. These mental processes continuing into -sleep may be divided into the following groups: 1, That which has not -been terminated during the day owing to casual prevention; 2, that which -has been left unfinished by temporary paralysis of our mental power, -_i.e._ the unsolved; 3, that which has been rejected and suppressed -during the day. This unites with a powerful group (4) formed by that -which has been excited in our Unc. during the day by the work of the -foreconscious. Finally, we may add group (5) consisting of the -indifferent and hence unsettled impressions of the day. - -We should not underrate the psychic intensities introduced into sleep by -these remnants of waking life, especially those emanating from the group -of the unsolved. These excitations surely continue to strive for -expression during the night, and we may assume with equal certainty that -the sleeping state renders impossible the usual continuation of the -excitement in the foreconscious and the termination of the excitement by -its becoming conscious. As far as we can normally become conscious of -our mental processes, even during the night, in so far we are not -asleep. I shall not venture to state what change is produced in the -Forec. system by the sleeping state, but there is no doubt that the -psychological character of sleep is essentially due to the change of -energy in this very system, which also dominates the approach to -motility, which is paralysed during sleep. In contradistinction to this, -there seems to be nothing in the psychology of the dream to warrant the -assumption that sleep produces any but secondary changes in the -conditions of the Unc. system. Hence, for the nocturnal excitation in -the Forec. there remains no other path than that followed by the wish -excitements from the Unc. This excitation must seek reinforcement from -the Unc., and follow the detours of the unconscious excitations. But -what is the relation of the foreconscious day remnants to the dream? -There is no doubt that they penetrate abundantly into the dream, that -they utilise the dream content to obtrude themselves upon consciousness -even during the night; indeed, they occasionally even dominate the dream -content, and impel it to continue the work of the day; it is also -certain that the day remnants may just as well have any other character -as that of wishes; but it is highly instructive and even decisive for -the theory of wish-fulfilment to see what conditions they must comply -with in order to be received into the dream. - -Let us pick out one of the dreams cited above as examples, _e.g._, the -dream in which my friend Otto seems to show the symptoms of Basedow’s -disease (p. 228). My friend Otto’s appearance occasioned me some concern -during the day, and this worry, like everything else referring to this -person, affected me. I may also assume that these feelings followed me -into sleep. I was probably bent on finding out what was the matter with -him. In the night my worry found expression in the dream which I have -reported, the content of which was not only senseless, but failed to -show any wish-fulfilment. But I began to investigate for the source of -this incongruous expression of the solicitude felt during the day, and -analysis revealed the connection. I identified my friend Otto with a -certain Baron L. and myself with a Professor R. There was only one -explanation for my being impelled to select just this substitution for -the day thought. I must have always been prepared in the Unc. to -identify myself with Professor R., as it meant the realisation of one of -the immortal infantile wishes, viz. that of becoming great. Repulsive -ideas respecting my friend, that would certainly have been repudiated in -a waking state, took advantage of the opportunity to creep into the -dream, but the worry of the day likewise found some form of expression -through a substitution in the dream content. The day thought, which was -no wish in itself but rather a worry, had in some way to find a -connection with the infantile now unconscious and suppressed wish, which -then allowed it, though already properly prepared, to “originate” for -consciousness. The more dominating this worry, the stronger must be the -connection to be established; between the contents of the wish and that -of the worry there need be no connection, nor was there one in any of -our examples. - -We can now sharply define the significance of the unconscious wish for -the dream. It may be admitted that there is a whole class of dreams in -which the incitement originates preponderatingly or even exclusively -from the remnants of daily life; and I believe that even my cherished -desire to become at some future time a “professor extraordinarius” would -have allowed me to slumber undisturbed that night had not my worry about -my friend’s health been still active. But this worry alone would not -have produced a dream; the motive power needed by the dream had to be -contributed by a wish, and it was the affair of the worriment to procure -for itself such wish as a motive power of the dream. To speak -figuratively, it is quite possible that a day thought plays the part of -the contractor (_entrepreneur_) in the dream. But it is known that no -matter what idea the contractor may have in mind, and how desirous he -may be of putting it into operation, he can do nothing without capital; -he must depend upon a capitalist to defray the necessary expenses, and -this capitalist, who supplies the psychic expenditure for the dream is -invariably and indisputably _a wish from the unconscious_, no matter -what the nature of the waking thought may be. - -In other cases the capitalist himself is the contractor for the dream; -this, indeed, seems to be the more usual case. An unconscious wish is -produced by the day’s work, which in turn creates the dream. The dream -processes, moreover, run parallel with all the other possibilities of -the economic relationship used here as an illustration. Thus, the -entrepreneur may contribute some capital himself, or several -entrepreneurs may seek the aid of the same capitalist, or several -capitalists may jointly supply the capital required by the entrepreneur. -Thus there are dreams produced by more than one dream-wish, and many -similar variations which may readily be passed over and are of no -further interest to us. What we have left unfinished in this discussion -of the dream-wish we shall be able to develop later. - -The “tertium comparationis” in the comparisons just employed—_i.e._ the -sum placed at our free disposal in proper allotment—admits of still -finer application for the illustration of the dream structure. As shown -on p. 285 we can recognise in most dreams a centre especially supplied -with perceptible intensity. This is regularly the direct representation -of the wish-fulfilment; for, if we undo the displacements of the -dream-work by a process of retrogression, we find that the psychic -intensity of the elements in the dream thoughts is replaced by the -perceptible intensity of the elements in the dream content. The elements -adjoining the wish-fulfilment have frequently nothing to do with its -sense, but prove to be descendants of painful thoughts which oppose the -wish. But, owing to their frequently artificial connection with the -central element, they have acquired sufficient intensity to enable them -to come to expression. Thus, the force of expression of the -wish-fulfilment is diffused over a certain sphere of association, within -which it raises to expression all elements, including those that are in -themselves impotent. In dreams having several strong wishes we can -readily separate from one another the spheres of the individual -wish-fulfilments; the gaps in the dream likewise can often be explained -as boundary zones. - -Although the foregoing remarks have considerably limited the -significance of the day remnants for the dream, it will nevertheless be -worth our while to give them some attention. For they must be a -necessary ingredient in the formation of the dream, inasmuch as -experience reveals the surprising fact that every dream shows in its -content a connection with some impression of a recent day, often of the -most indifferent kind. So far we have failed to see any necessity for -this addition to the dream mixture (p. 153). This necessity appears only -when we follow closely the part played by the unconscious wish, and then -seek information in the psychology of the neuroses. We thus learn that -the unconscious idea, as such, is altogether incapable of entering into -the foreconscious, and that it can exert an influence there only by -uniting with a harmless idea already belonging to the foreconscious, to -which it transfers its intensity and under which it allows itself to be -concealed. This is the fact of transference which furnishes an -explanation for so many surprising occurrences in the psychic life of -neurotics. - -The idea from the foreconscious which thus obtains an unmerited -abundance of intensity may be left unchanged by the transference, or it -may have forced upon it a modification from the content of the -transferring idea. I trust the reader will pardon my fondness for -comparisons from daily life, but I feel tempted to say that the -relations existing for the repressed idea are similar to the situations -existing in Austria for the American dentist, who is forbidden to -practise unless he gets permission from a regular physician to use his -name on the public signboard and thus cover the legal requirements. -Moreover, just as it is naturally not the busiest physicians who form -such alliances with dental practitioners, so in the psychic life only -such foreconscious or conscious ideas are chosen to cover a repressed -idea as have not themselves attracted much of the attention which is -operative in the foreconscious. The unconscious entangles with its -connections preferentially either those impressions and ideas of the -foreconscious which have been left unnoticed as indifferent, or those -that have soon been deprived of this attention through rejection. It is -a familiar fact from the association studies confirmed by every -experience, that ideas which have formed intimate connections in one -direction assume an almost negative attitude to whole groups of new -connections. I once tried from this principle to develop a theory for -hysterical paralysis. - -If we assume that the same need for the transference of the repressed -ideas which we have learned to know from the analysis of the neuroses -makes its influence felt in the dream as well, we can at once explain -two riddles of the dream, viz. that every dream analysis shows an -interweaving of a recent impression, and that this recent element is -frequently of the most indifferent character. We may add what we have -already learned elsewhere, that these recent and indifferent elements -come so frequently into the dream content as a substitute for the most -deep-lying of the dream thoughts, for the further reason that they have -least to fear from the resisting censor. But while this freedom from -censorship explains only the preference for trivial elements, the -constant presence of recent elements points to the fact that there is a -need for transference. Both groups of impressions satisfy the demand of -the repression for material still free from associations, the -indifferent ones because they have offered no inducement for extensive -associations, and the recent ones because they have had insufficient -time to form such associations. - -We thus see that the day remnants, among which we may now include the -indifferent impressions when they participate in the dream formation, -not only borrow from the Unc. the motive power at the disposal of the -repressed wish, but also offer to the unconscious something -indispensable, namely, the attachment necessary to the transference. If -we here attempted to penetrate more deeply into the psychic processes, -we should first have to throw more light on the play of emotions between -the foreconscious and the unconscious, to which, indeed, we are urged by -the study of the psychoneuroses, whereas the dream itself offers no -assistance in this respect. - -Just one further remark about the day remnants. There is no doubt that -they are the actual disturbers of sleep, and not the dream, which, on -the contrary, strives to guard sleep. But we shall return to this point -later. - -We have so far discussed the dream-wish, we have traced it to the sphere -of the Unc., and analysed its relations to the day remnants, which in -turn may be either wishes, psychic emotions of any other kind, or simply -recent impressions. We have thus made room for any claims that may be -made for the importance of conscious thought activity in dream -formations in all its variations. Relying upon our thought series, it -would not be at all impossible for us to explain even those extreme -cases in which the dream as a continuer of the day work brings to a -happy conclusion an unsolved problem of the waking state. We do not, -however, possess an example, the analysis of which might reveal the -infantile or repressed wish source furnishing such alliance and -successful strengthening of the efforts of the foreconscious activity. -But we have not come one step nearer a solution of the riddle: Why can -the unconscious furnish the motive power for the wish-fulfilment only -during sleep? The answer to this question must throw light on the -psychic nature of wishes; and it will be given with the aid of the -diagram of the psychic apparatus. - -We do not doubt that even this apparatus attained its present perfection -through a long course of development. Let us attempt to restore it as it -existed in an early phase of its activity. From assumptions, to be -confirmed elsewhere, we know that at first the apparatus strove to keep -as free from excitement as possible, and in its first formation, -therefore, the scheme took the form of a reflex apparatus, which enabled -it promptly to discharge through the motor tracts any sensible stimulus -reaching it from without. But this simple function was disturbed by the -wants of life, which likewise furnish the impulse for the further -development of the apparatus. The wants of life first manifested -themselves to it in the form of the great physical needs. The excitement -aroused by the inner want seeks an outlet in motility, which may be -designated as “inner changes” or as an “expression of the emotions.” The -hungry child cries or fidgets helplessly, but its situation remains -unchanged; for the excitation proceeding from an inner want requires, -not a momentary outbreak, but a force working continuously. A change can -occur only if in some way a feeling of gratification is -experienced—which in the case of the child must be through outside -help—in order to remove the inner excitement. An essential constituent -of this experience is the appearance of a certain perception (of food in -our example), the memory picture of which thereafter remains associated -with the memory trace of the excitation of want. - -Thanks to the established connection, there results at the next -appearance of this want a psychic feeling which revives the memory -picture of the former perception, and thus recalls the former perception -itself, _i.e._ it actually re-establishes the situation of the first -gratification. We call such a feeling a wish; the reappearance of the -perception constitutes the wish-fulfilment, and the full revival of the -perception by the want excitement constitutes the shortest road to the -wish-fulfilment. We may assume a primitive condition of the psychic -apparatus in which this road is really followed, _i.e._ where the -wishing merges into an hallucination. This first psychic activity -therefore aims at an identity of perception, _i.e._ it aims at a -repetition of that perception which is connected with the fulfilment of -the want. - -This primitive mental activity must have been modified by bitter -practical experience into a more expedient secondary activity. The -establishment of the identity perception on the short regressive road -within the apparatus does not in another respect carry with it the -result which inevitably follows the revival of the same perception from -without. The gratification does not take place, and the want continues. -In order to equalise the internal with the external sum of energy, the -former must be continually maintained, just as actually happens in the -hallucinatory psychoses and in the deliriums of hunger which exhaust -their psychic capacity in clinging to the object desired. In order to -make more appropriate use of the psychic force, it becomes necessary to -inhibit the full regression so as to prevent it from extending beyond -the image of memory, whence it can select other paths leading ultimately -to the establishment of the desired identity from the outer world. This -inhibition and consequent deviation from the excitation becomes the task -of a second system which dominates the voluntary motility, _i.e._ -through whose activity the expenditure of motility is now devoted to -previously recalled purposes. But this entire complicated mental -activity which works its way from the memory picture to the -establishment of the perception identity from the outer world merely -represents a detour which has been forced upon the wish-fulfilment by -experience.[FS] Thinking is indeed nothing but the equivalent of the -hallucinatory wish; and if the dream be called a wish-fulfilment this -becomes self-evident, as nothing but a wish can impel our psychic -apparatus to activity. The dream, which in fulfilling its wishes follows -the short regressive path, thereby preserves for us only an example of -the primary form of the psychic apparatus which has been abandoned as -inexpedient. What once ruled in the waking state when the psychic life -was still young and unfit seems to have been banished into the sleeping -state, just as we see again in the nursery the bow and arrow, the -discarded primitive weapons of grown-up humanity. _The dream is a -fragment of the abandoned psychic life of the child._ In the psychoses -these modes of operation of the psychic apparatus, which are normally -suppressed in the waking state, reassert themselves, and then betray -their inability to satisfy our wants in the outer world. - -The unconscious wish-feelings evidently strive to assert themselves -during the day also, and the fact of transference and the psychoses -teach us that they endeavour to penetrate to consciousness and dominate -motility by the road leading through the system of the foreconscious. It -is, therefore, the censor lying between the Unc. and the Forec., the -assumption of which is forced upon us by the dream, that we have to -recognise and honour as the guardian of our psychic health. But is it -not carelessness on the part of this guardian to diminish its vigilance -during the night and to allow the suppressed emotions of the Unc. to -come to expression, thus again making possible the hallucinatory -regression? I think not, for when the critical guardian goes to rest—and -we have proof that his slumber is not profound—he takes care to close -the gate to motility. No matter what feelings from the otherwise -inhibited Unc. may roam about on the scene, they need not be interfered -with; they remain harmless because they are unable to put in motion the -motor apparatus which alone can exert a modifying influence upon the -outer world. Sleep guarantees the security of the fortress which is -under guard. Conditions are less harmless when a displacement of forces -is produced, not through a nocturnal diminution in the operation of the -critical censor, but through pathological enfeeblement of the latter or -through pathological reinforcement of the unconscious excitations, and -this while the foreconscious is charged with energy and the avenues to -motility are open. The guardian is then overpowered, the unconscious -excitations subdue the Forec.; through it they dominate our speech and -actions, or they enforce the hallucinatory regression, thus governing an -apparatus not designed for them by virtue of the attraction exerted by -the perceptions on the distribution of our psychic energy. We call this -condition a psychosis. - -We are now in the best position to complete our psychological -construction, which has been interrupted by the introduction of the two -systems, Unc. and Forec. We have still, however, ample reason for giving -further consideration to the wish as the sole psychic motive power in -the dream. We have explained that the reason why the dream is in every -case a wish realisation is because it is a product of the Unc., which -knows no other aim in its activity but the fulfilment of wishes, and -which has no other forces at its disposal but wish-feelings. If we avail -ourselves for a moment longer of the right to elaborate from the dream -interpretation such far-reaching psychological speculations, we are in -duty bound to demonstrate that we are thereby bringing the dream into a -relationship which may also comprise other psychic structures. If there -exists a system of the Unc.—or something sufficiently analogous to it -for the purpose of our discussion—the dream cannot be its sole -manifestation; every dream may be a wish-fulfilment, but there must be -other forms of abnormal wish-fulfilment besides this of dreams. Indeed, -the theory of all psychoneurotic symptoms culminates in the proposition -_that they too must be taken as wish-fulfilments of the unconscious_. -Our explanation makes the dream only the first member of a group most -important for the psychiatrist, an understanding of which means the -solution of the purely psychological part of the psychiatric problem. -But other members of this group of wish-fulfilments, _e.g._, the -hysterical symptoms, evince one essential quality which I have so far -failed to find in the dream. Thus, from the investigations frequently -referred to in this treatise, I know that the formation of an hysterical -symptom necessitates the combination of both streams of our psychic -life. The symptom is not merely the expression of a realised unconscious -wish, but it must be joined by another wish from the foreconscious which -is fulfilled by the same symptom; so that the symptom is at least doubly -determined, once by each one of the conflicting systems. Just as in the -dream, there is no limit to further over-determination. The -determination not derived from the Unc. is, as far as I can see, -invariably a stream of thought in reaction against the unconscious wish, -_e.g._, a self-punishment. Hence I may say, in general, that _an -hysterical symptom originates only where two contrasting -wish-fulfilments, having their source in different psychic systems, are -able to combine in one expression_. (Compare my latest formulation of -the origin of the hysterical symptoms in a treatise published by the -_Zeitschrift für Sexualwissenschaft_, by Hirschfeld and others, 1908). -Examples on this point would prove of little value, as nothing but a -complete unveiling of the complication in question would carry -conviction. I therefore content myself with the mere assertion, and will -cite an example, not for conviction but for explication. The hysterical -vomiting of a female patient proved, on the one hand, to be the -realisation of an unconscious fancy from the time of puberty, that she -might be continuously pregnant and have a multitude of children, and -this was subsequently united with the wish that she might have them from -as many men as possible. Against this immoderate wish there arose a -powerful defensive impulse. But as the vomiting might spoil the -patient’s figure and beauty, so that she would not find favour in the -eyes of mankind, the symptom was therefore in keeping with her punitive -trend of thought, and, being thus admissible from both sides, it was -allowed to become a reality. This is the same manner of consenting to a -wish-fulfilment which the queen of the Parthians chose for the triumvir -Crassus. Believing that he had undertaken the campaign out of greed for -gold, she caused molten gold to be poured into the throat of the corpse. -“Now hast thou what thou hast longed for.” As yet we know of the dream -only that it expresses a wish-fulfilment of the unconscious; and -apparently the dominating foreconscious permits this only after it has -subjected the wish to some distortions. We are really in no position to -demonstrate regularly a stream of thought antagonistic to the dream-wish -which is realised in the dream as in its counterpart. Only now and then -have we found in the dream traces of reaction formations, as, for -instance, the tenderness toward friend R. in the “uncle dream” (p. 116). -But the contribution from the foreconscious, which is missing here, may -be found in another place. While the dominating system has withdrawn on -the wish to sleep, the dream may bring to expression with manifold -distortions a wish from the Unc., and realise this wish by producing the -necessary changes of energy in the psychic apparatus, and may finally -retain it through the entire duration of sleep.[FT] - -This persistent wish to sleep on the part of the foreconscious in -general facilitates the formation of the dream. Let us refer to the -dream of the father who, by the gleam of light from the death chamber, -was brought to the conclusion that the body has been set on fire. We -have shown that one of the psychic forces decisive in causing the father -to form this conclusion, instead of being awakened by the gleam of -light, was the wish to prolong the life of the child seen in the dream -by one moment. Other wishes proceeding from the repression probably -escape us, because we are unable to analyse this dream. But as a second -motive power of the dream we may mention the father’s desire to sleep, -for, like the life of the child, the sleep of the father is prolonged -for a moment by the dream. The underlying motive is: “Let the dream go -on, otherwise I must wake up.” As in this dream so also in all other -dreams, the wish to sleep lends its support to the unconscious wish. On -page 104 we reported dreams which were apparently dreams of convenience. -But, properly speaking, all dreams may claim this designation. The -efficacy of the wish to continue to sleep is the most easily recognised -in the waking dreams, which so transform the objective sensory stimulus -as to render it compatible with the continuance of sleep; they -interweave this stimulus with the dream in order to rob it of any claims -it might make as a warning to the outer world. But this wish to continue -to sleep must also participate in the formation of all other dreams -which may disturb the sleeping state from within only. “Now, then, sleep -on; why, it’s but a dream”; this is in many cases the suggestion of the -Forec. to consciousness when the dream goes too far; and this also -describes in a general way the attitude of our dominating psychic -activity toward dreaming, though the thought remains tacit. I must draw -the conclusion that _throughout our entire sleeping state we are just as -certain that we are dreaming as we are certain that we are sleeping_. We -are compelled to disregard the objection urged against this conclusion -that our consciousness is never directed to a knowledge of the former, -and that it is directed to a knowledge of the latter only on special -occasions when the censor is unexpectedly surprised. Against this -objection we may say that there are persons who are entirely conscious -of their sleeping and dreaming, and who are apparently endowed with the -conscious faculty of guiding their dream life. Such a dreamer, when -dissatisfied with the course taken by the dream, breaks it off without -awakening, and begins it anew in order to continue it with a different -turn, like the popular author who, on request, gives a happier ending to -his play. Or, at another time, if placed by the dream in a sexually -exciting situation, he thinks in his sleep: “I do not care to continue -this dream and exhaust myself by a pollution; I prefer to defer it in -favour of a real situation.” - - -(_d_) _Waking caused by the Dream—The Function of the Dream—The Anxiety - Dream._ - -Since we know that the foreconscious is suspended during the night by -the wish to sleep, we can proceed to an intelligent investigation of the -dream process. But let us first sum up the knowledge of this process -already gained. We have shown that the waking activity leaves day -remnants from which the sum of energy cannot be entirely removed; or the -waking activity revives during the day one of the unconscious wishes; or -both conditions occur simultaneously; we have already discovered the -many variations that may take place. The unconscious wish has already -made its way to the day remnants, either during the day or at any rate -with the beginning of sleep, and has effected a transference to it. This -produces a wish transferred to the recent material, or the suppressed -recent wish comes to life again through a reinforcement from the -unconscious. This wish now endeavours to make its way to consciousness -on the normal path of the mental processes through the foreconscious, to -which indeed it belongs through one of its constituent elements. It is -confronted, however, by the censor, which is still active, and to the -influence of which it now succumbs. It now takes on the distortion for -which the way has already been paved by its transference to the recent -material. Thus far it is in the way of becoming something resembling an -obsession, delusion, or the like, _i.e._ a thought reinforced by a -transference and distorted in expression by the censor. But its further -progress is now checked through the dormant state of the foreconscious; -this system has apparently protected itself against invasion by -diminishing its excitements. The dream process, therefore, takes the -regressive course, which has just been opened by the peculiarity of the -sleeping state, and thereby follows the attraction exerted on it by the -memory groups, which themselves exist in part only as visual energy not -yet translated into terms of the later systems. On its way to regression -the dream takes on the form of dramatisation. The subject of compression -will be discussed later. The dream process has now terminated the second -part of its repeatedly impeded course. The first part expended itself -progressively from the unconscious scenes or phantasies to the -foreconscious, while the second part gravitates from the advent of the -censor back to the perceptions. But when the dream process becomes a -content of perception it has, so to speak, eluded the obstacle set up in -the Forec. by the censor and by the sleeping state. It succeeds in -drawing attention to itself and in being noticed by consciousness. For -consciousness, which means to us a sensory organ for the reception of -psychic qualities, may receive stimuli from two sources—first, from the -periphery of the entire apparatus, viz. from the perception system, and, -secondly, from the pleasure and pain stimuli, which constitute the sole -psychic quality produced in the transformation of energy within the -apparatus. All other processes in the Ψ-system, even those in the -foreconscious, are devoid of any psychic quality, and are therefore not -objects of consciousness inasmuch as they do not furnish pleasure or -pain for perception. We shall have to assume that those liberations of -pleasure and pain automatically regulate the outlet of the occupation -processes. But in order to make possible more delicate functions, it was -later found necessary to render the course of the presentations more -independent of the manifestations of pain. To accomplish this the Forec. -system needed some qualities of its own which could attract -consciousness, and most probably received them through the connection of -the foreconscious processes with the memory system of the signs of -speech, which is not devoid of qualities. Through the qualities of this -system, consciousness, which had hitherto been a sensory organ only for -the perceptions, now becomes also a sensory organ for a part of our -mental processes. Thus we have now, as it were, two sensory surfaces, -one directed to perceptions and the other to the foreconscious mental -processes. - -I must assume that the sensory surface of consciousness devoted to the -Forec. is rendered less excitable by sleep than that directed to the -P-systems. The giving up of interest for the nocturnal mental processes -is indeed purposeful. Nothing is to disturb the mind; the Forec. wants -to sleep. But once the dream becomes a perception, it is then capable of -exciting consciousness through the qualities thus gained. The sensory -stimulus accomplishes what it was really destined for, namely, it -directs a part of the energy at the disposal of the Forec. in the form -of attention upon the stimulant. We must, therefore, admit that the -dream invariably awakens us, that is, it puts into activity a part of -the dormant force of the Forec. This force imparts to the dream that -influence which we have designated as secondary elaboration for the sake -of connection and comprehensibility. This means that the dream is -treated by it like any other content of perception; it is subjected to -the same ideas of expectation, as far at least as the material admits. -As far as the direction is concerned in this third part of the dream, it -may be said that here again the movement is progressive. - -To avoid misunderstanding, it will not be amiss to say a few words about -the temporal peculiarities of these dream processes. In a very -interesting discussion, apparently suggested by Maury’s puzzling -guillotine dream, Goblot[29] tries to demonstrate that the dream -requires no other time than the transition period between sleeping and -awakening. The awakening requires time, as the dream takes place during -that period. One is inclined to believe that the final picture of the -dream is so strong that it forces the dreamer to awaken; but, as a -matter of fact, this picture is strong only because the dreamer is -already very near awakening when it appears. “Un rêve c’est un réveil -qui commence.” - -It has already been emphasized by Dugas[18] that Goblot was forced to -repudiate many facts in order to generalise his theory. There are, -moreover, dreams from which we do not awaken, _e.g._, some dreams in -which we dream that we dream. From our knowledge of the dream-work, we -can by no means admit that it extends only over the period of awakening. -On the contrary, we must consider it probable that the first part of the -dream-work begins during the day when we are still under the domination -of the foreconscious. The second phase of the dream-work, viz. the -modification through the censor, the attraction by the unconscious -scenes, and the penetration to perception must continue throughout the -night. And we are probably always right when we assert that we feel as -though we had been dreaming the whole night, although we cannot say -what. I do not, however, think it necessary to assume that, up to the -time of becoming conscious, the dream processes really follow the -temporal sequence which we have described, viz. that there is first the -transferred dream-wish, then the distortion of the censor, and -consequently the change of direction to regression, and so on. We were -forced to form such a succession for the sake of _description_; in -reality, however, it is much rather a matter of simultaneously trying -this path and that, and of emotions fluctuating to and fro, until -finally, owing to the most expedient distribution, one particular -grouping is secured which remains. From certain personal experiences, I -am myself inclined to believe that the dream-work often requires more -than one day and one night to produce its result; if this be true, the -extraordinary art manifested in the construction of the dream loses all -its marvels. In my opinion, even the regard for comprehensibility as an -occurrence of perception may take effect before the dream attracts -consciousness to itself. To be sure, from now on the process is -accelerated, as the dream is henceforth subjected to the same treatment -as any other perception. It is like fireworks, which require hours of -preparation and only a moment for ignition. - -Through the dream-work the dream process now gains either sufficient -intensity to attract consciousness to itself and arouse the -foreconscious, which is quite independent of the time or profundity of -sleep, or, its intensity being insufficient it must wait until it meets -the attention which is set in motion immediately before awakening. Most -dreams seem to operate with relatively slight psychic intensities, for -they wait for the awakening. This, however, explains the fact that we -regularly perceive something dreamt on being suddenly aroused from a -sound sleep. Here, as well as in spontaneous awakening, the first glance -strikes the perception content created by the dream-work, while the next -strikes the one produced from without. - -But of greater theoretical interest are those dreams which are capable -of waking us in the midst of sleep. We must bear in mind the expediency -elsewhere universally demonstrated, and ask ourselves why the dream or -the unconscious wish has the power to disturb sleep, _i.e._ the -fulfilment of the foreconscious wish. This is probably due to certain -relations of energy into which we have no insight. If we possessed such -insight we should probably find that the freedom given to the dream and -the expenditure of a certain amount of detached attention represent for -the dream an economy in energy, keeping in view the fact that the -unconscious must be held in check at night just as during the day. We -know from experience that the dream, even if it interrupts sleep, -repeatedly during the same night, still remains compatible with sleep. -We wake up for an instant, and immediately resume our sleep. It is like -driving off a fly during sleep, we awake _ad hoc_, and when we resume -our sleep we have removed the disturbance. As demonstrated by familiar -examples from the sleep of wet nurses, &c., the fulfilment of the wish -to sleep is quite compatible with the retention of a certain amount of -attention in a given direction. - -But we must here take cognisance of an objection that is based on a -better knowledge of the unconscious processes. Although we have -ourselves described the unconscious wishes as always active, we have, -nevertheless, asserted that they are not sufficiently strong during the -day to make themselves perceptible. But when we sleep, and the -unconscious wish has shown its power to form a dream, and with it to -awaken the foreconscious, why, then, does this power become exhausted -after the dream has been taken cognisance of? Would it not seem more -probable that the dream should continually renew itself, like the -troublesome fly which, when driven away, takes pleasure in returning -again and again? What justifies our assertion that the dream removes the -disturbance of sleep? - -That the unconscious wishes always remain active is quite true. They -represent paths which are passable whenever a sum of excitement makes -use of them. Moreover, a remarkable peculiarity of the unconscious -processes is the fact that they remain indestructible. Nothing can be -brought to an end in the unconscious; nothing can cease or be forgotten. -This impression is most strongly gained in the study of the neuroses, -especially of hysteria. The unconscious stream of thought which leads to -the discharge through an attack becomes passable again as soon as there -is an accumulation of a sufficient amount of excitement. The -mortification brought on thirty years ago, after having gained access to -the unconscious affective source, operates during all these thirty years -like a recent one. Whenever its memory is touched, it is revived and -shows itself to be supplied with the excitement which is discharged in a -motor attack. It is just here that the office of psychotherapy begins, -its task being to bring about adjustment and forgetfulness for the -unconscious processes. Indeed, the fading of memories and the flagging -of affects, which we are apt to take as self-evident and to explain as a -primary influence of time on the psychic memories, are in reality -secondary changes brought about by painstaking work. It is the -foreconscious that accomplishes this work; and the only course to be -pursued by psychotherapy is to subjugate the Unc. to the domination of -the Forec. - -There are, therefore, two exits for the individual unconscious emotional -process. It is either left to itself, in which case it ultimately breaks -through somewhere and secures for once a discharge for its excitation -into motility; or it succumbs to the influence of the foreconscious, and -its excitation becomes confined through this influence instead of being -discharged. It is the latter process that occurs in the dream. Owing to -the fact that it is directed by the conscious excitement, the energy -from the Forec., which confronts the dream when grown to perception, -restricts the unconscious excitement of the dream and renders it -harmless as a disturbing factor. When the dreamer wakes up for a moment, -he has actually chased away the fly that has threatened to disturb his -sleep. We can now understand that it is really more expedient and -economical to give full sway to the unconscious wish, and clear its way -to regression so that it may form a dream, and then restrict and adjust -this dream by means of a small expenditure of foreconscious labour, than -to curb the unconscious throughout the entire period of sleep. We -should, indeed, expect that the dream, even if it was not originally an -expedient process, would have acquired some function in the play of -forces of the psychic life. We now see what this function is. The dream -has taken it upon itself to bring the liberated excitement of the Unc. -back under the domination of the foreconscious; it thus affords relief -for the excitement of the Unc. and acts as a safety-valve for the -latter, and at the same time it insures the sleep of the foreconscious -at a slight expenditure of the waking state. Like the other psychic -formations of its group, the dream offers itself as a compromise serving -simultaneously both systems by fulfilling both wishes in so far as they -are compatible with each other. A glance at Robert’s “elimination -theory,” referred to on page 66, will show that we must agree with this -author in his main point, viz. in the determination of the function of -the dream, though we differ from him in our hypotheses and in our -treatment of the dream process. - -The above qualification—in so far as the two wishes are compatible with -each other—contains a suggestion that there may be cases in which the -function of the dream suffers shipwreck. The dream process is in the -first instance admitted as a wish-fulfilment of the unconscious, but if -this tentative wish-fulfilment disturbs the foreconscious to such an -extent that the latter can no longer maintain its rest, the dream then -breaks the compromise and fails to perform the second part of its task. -It is then at once broken off, and replaced by complete wakefulness. -Here, too, it is not really the fault of the dream, if, while ordinarily -the guardian of sleep, it is here compelled to appear as the disturber -of sleep, nor should this cause us to entertain any doubts as to its -efficacy. This is not the only case in the organism in which an -otherwise efficacious arrangement became inefficacious and disturbing as -soon as some element is changed in the conditions of its origin; the -disturbance then serves at least the new purpose of announcing the -change, and calling into play against it the means of adjustment of the -organism. In this connection, I naturally bear in mind the case of the -anxiety dream, and in order not to have the appearance of trying to -exclude this testimony against the theory of wish-fulfilment wherever I -encounter it, I will attempt an explanation of the anxiety dream, at -least offering some suggestions. - -That a psychic process developing anxiety may still be a wish-fulfilment -has long ceased to impress us as a contradiction. We may explain this -occurrence by the fact that the wish belongs to one system (the Unc.), -while by the other system (the Forec.), this wish has been rejected and -suppressed. The subjection of the Unc. by the Forec. is not complete -even in perfect psychic health; the amount of this suppression shows the -degree of our psychic normality. Neurotic symptoms show that there is a -conflict between the two systems; the symptoms are the results of a -compromise of this conflict, and they temporarily put an end to it. On -the one hand, they afford the Unc. an outlet for the discharge of its -excitement, and serve it as a sally port, while, on the other hand, they -give the Forec. the capability of dominating the Unc. to some extent. It -is highly instructive to consider, _e.g._, the significance of any -hysterical phobia or of an agoraphobia. Suppose a neurotic incapable of -crossing the street alone, which we would justly call a “symptom.” We -attempt to remove this symptom by urging him to the action which he -deems himself incapable of. The result will be an attack of anxiety, -just as an attack of anxiety in the street has often been the cause of -establishing an agoraphobia. We thus learn that the symptom has been -constituted in order to guard against the outbreak of the anxiety. The -phobia is thrown before the anxiety like a fortress on the frontier. - -Unless we enter into the part played by the affects in these processes, -which can be done here only imperfectly, we cannot continue our -discussion. Let us therefore advance the proposition that the reason why -the suppression of the unconscious becomes absolutely necessary is -because, if the discharge of presentation should be left to itself, it -would develop an affect in the Unc. which originally bore the character -of pleasure, but which, since the appearance of the repression, bears -the character of pain. The aim, as well as the result, of the -suppression is to stop the development of this pain. The suppression -extends over the unconscious ideation, because the liberation of pain -might emanate from the ideation. The foundation is here laid for a very -definite assumption concerning the nature of the affective development. -It is regarded as a motor or secondary activity, the key to the -innervation of which is located in the presentations of the Unc. Through -the domination of the Forec. these presentations become, as it were, -throttled and inhibited at the exit of the emotion-developing impulses. -The danger, which is due to the fact that the Forec. ceases to occupy -the energy, therefore consists in the fact that the unconscious -excitations liberate such an affect as—in consequence of the repression -that has previously taken place—can only be perceived as pain or -anxiety. - -This danger is released through the full sway of the dream process. The -determinations for its realisation consist in the fact that repressions -have taken place, and that the suppressed emotional wishes shall become -sufficiently strong. They thus stand entirely without the psychological -realm of the dream structure. Were it not for the fact that our subject -is connected through just one factor, namely, the freeing of the Unc. -during sleep, with the subject of the development of anxiety, I could -dispense with discussion of the anxiety dream, and thus avoid all -obscurities connected with it. - -As I have often repeated, the theory of the anxiety belongs to the -psychology of the neuroses. I would say that the anxiety in the dream is -an anxiety problem and not a dream problem. We have nothing further to -do with it after having once demonstrated its point of contact with the -subject of the dream process. There is only one thing left for me to do. -As I have asserted that the neurotic anxiety originates from sexual -sources, I can subject anxiety dreams to analysis in order to -demonstrate the sexual material in their dream thoughts. - -For good reasons I refrain from citing here any of the numerous examples -placed at my disposal by neurotic patients, but prefer to give anxiety -dreams from young persons. - -Personally, I have had no real anxiety dream for decades, but I recall -one from my seventh or eighth year which I subjected to interpretation -about thirty years later. The dream was very vivid, and showed me _my -beloved mother, with peculiarly calm sleeping countenance, carried into -the room and laid on the bed by two (or three) persons with bird’s -beaks_. I awoke crying and screaming, and disturbed my parents. The very -tall figures—draped in a peculiar manner—with beaks, I had taken from -the illustrations of Philippson’s bible; I believe they represented -deities with heads of sparrowhawks from an Egyptian tomb relief. The -analysis also introduced the reminiscence of a naughty janitor’s boy, -who used to play with us children on the meadow in front of the house; I -would add that his name was Philip. I feel that I first heard from this -boy the vulgar word signifying sexual intercourse, which is replaced -among the educated by the Latin “coitus,” but to which the dream -distinctly alludes by the selection of the bird’s heads.[FU] I must have -suspected the sexual significance of the word from the facial expression -of my worldly-wise teacher. My mother’s features in the dream were -copied from the countenance of my grandfather, whom I had seen a few -days before his death snoring in the state of coma. The interpretation -of the secondary elaboration in the dream must therefore have been that -my mother was dying; the tomb relief, too, agrees with this. In this -anxiety I awoke, and could not calm myself until I had awakened my -parents. I remember that I suddenly became calm on coming face to face -with my mother, as if I needed the assurance that my mother was not -dead. But this secondary interpretation of the dream had been effected -only under the influence of the developed anxiety. I was not frightened -because I dreamed that my mother was dying, but I interpreted the dream -in this manner in the foreconscious elaboration because I was already -under the domination of the anxiety. The latter, however, could be -traced by means of the repression to an obscure obviously sexual desire, -which had found its satisfying expression in the visual content of the -dream. - -A man twenty-seven years old who had been severely ill for a year had -had many terrifying dreams between the ages of eleven and thirteen. He -thought that a man with an axe was running after him; he wished to run, -but felt paralysed and could not move from the spot. This may be taken -as a good example of a very common, and apparently sexually indifferent, -anxiety dream. In the analysis the dreamer first thought of a story told -him by his uncle, which chronologically was later than the dream, viz. -that he was attacked at night by a suspicious-looking individual. This -occurrence led him to believe that he himself might have already heard -of a similar episode at the time of the dream. In connection with the -axe he recalled that during that period of his life he once hurt his -hand with an axe while chopping wood. This immediately led to his -relations with his younger brother, whom he used to maltreat and knock -down. In particular, he recalled an occasion when he struck his brother -on the head with his boot until he bled, whereupon his mother remarked: -“I fear he will kill him some day.” While he was seemingly thinking of -the subject of violence, a reminiscence from his ninth year suddenly -occurred to him. His parents came home late and went to bed while he was -feigning sleep. He soon heard panting and other noises that appeared -strange to him, and he could also make out the position of his parents -in bed. His further associations showed that he had established an -analogy between this relation between his parents and his own relation -toward his younger brother. He subsumed what occurred between his -parents under the conception “violence and wrestling,” and thus reached -a sadistic conception of the coitus act, as often happens among -children. The fact that he often noticed blood on his mother’s bed -corroborated his conception. - -That the sexual intercourse of adults appears strange to children who -observe it, and arouses fear in them, I dare say is a fact of daily -experience. I have explained this fear by the fact that sexual -excitement is not mastered by their understanding, and is probably also -inacceptable to them because their parents are involved in it. For the -same reason this excitement is converted into fear. At a still earlier -period of life sexual emotion directed toward the parent of opposite sex -does not meet with repression but finds free expression, as we have seen -above (pp. 209–215). - -For the night terrors with hallucinations (_pavor nocturnus_) frequently -found in children, I would unhesitatingly give the same explanation. -Here, too, we are certainly dealing with the incomprehensible and -rejected sexual feelings, which, if noted, would probably show a -temporal periodicity, for an enhancement of the sexual _libido_ may just -as well be produced accidentally through emotional impressions as -through the spontaneous and gradual processes of development. - -I lack the necessary material to sustain these explanations from -observation. On the other hand, the pediatrists seem to lack the point -of view which alone makes comprehensible the whole series of phenomena, -on the somatic as well as on the psychic side. To illustrate by a -comical example how one wearing the blinders of medical mythology may -miss the understanding of such cases, I will relate a case which I found -in a thesis on _pavor nocturnus_ by _Debacker_,[17] 1881 (p. 66). A -thirteen-year-old boy of delicate health began to become anxious and -dreamy; his sleep became restless, and about once a week it was -interrupted by an acute attack of anxiety with hallucinations. The -memory of these dreams was invariably very distinct. Thus, he related -that the _devil_ shouted at him: “Now we have you, now we have you,” and -this was followed by an odour of sulphur; the fire burned his skin. This -dream aroused him, terror-stricken. He was unable to scream at first; -then his voice returned, and he was heard to say distinctly: “No, no, -not me; why, I have done nothing,” or, “Please don’t, I shall never do -it again.” Occasionally, also, he said: “Albert has not done that.” -Later he avoided undressing, because, as he said, the fire attacked him -only when he was undressed. From amid these evil dreams, which menaced -his health, he was sent into the country, where he recovered within a -year and a half, but at the age of fifteen he once confessed: “Je -n’osais pas l’avouer, mais j’éprouvais continuellement des picotements -et des surexcitations aux _parties_;[FV] à la fin, cela m’énervait tant -que plusieurs fois, j’ai pensé me jeter par la fenêtre au dortoir.” - -It is certainly not difficult to suspect: 1, that the boy had practised -masturbation in former years, that he probably denied it, and was -threatened with severe punishment for his wrongdoing (his confession: Je -ne le ferai plus; his denial: Albert n’a jamais fait ça). 2, That under -the pressure of puberty the temptation to self-abuse through the -tickling of the genitals was reawakened. 3, That now, however, a -struggle of repression arose in him, suppressing the _libido_ and -changing it into fear, which subsequently took the form of the -punishments with which he was then threatened. - -Let us, however, quote the conclusions drawn by our author (p. 69). This -observation shows: 1, That the influence of puberty may produce in a boy -of delicate health a condition of extreme weakness, and that it may lead -to a _very marked cerebral anæmia_.[FW] - -2. This cerebral anæmia produces a transformation of character, -demonomaniacal hallucinations, and very violent nocturnal, perhaps also -diurnal, states of anxiety. - -3. Demonomania and the self-reproaches of the day can be traced to the -influences of religious education which the subject underwent as a -child. - -4. All manifestations disappeared as a result of a lengthy sojourn in -the country, bodily exercise, and the return of physical strength after -the termination of the period of puberty. - -5. A predisposing influence for the origin of the cerebral condition of -the boy may be attributed to heredity and to the father’s chronic -syphilitic state. - -The concluding remarks of the author read: “Nous avons fait entrer cette -observation dans le cadre des délires apyrétiques d’inanition, car c’est -à l’ischémie cérébrale que nous rattachons cet état particulier.” - - - (_e_) _The Primary and Secondary Processes—Regression._ - -In venturing to attempt to penetrate more deeply into the psychology of -the dream processes, I have undertaken a difficult task, to which, -indeed, my power of description is hardly equal. To reproduce in -description by a succession of words the simultaneousness of so complex -a chain of events, and in doing so to appear unbiassed throughout the -exposition, goes fairly beyond my powers. I have now to atone for the -fact that I have been unable in my description of the dream psychology -to follow the historic development of my views. The view-points for my -conception of the dream were reached through earlier investigations in -the psychology of the neuroses, to which I am not supposed to refer -here, but to which I am repeatedly forced to refer, whereas I should -prefer to proceed in the opposite direction, and, starting from the -dream, to establish a connection with the psychology of the neuroses. I -am well aware of all the inconveniences arising for the reader from this -difficulty, but I know of no way to avoid them. - -As I am dissatisfied with this state of affairs, I am glad to dwell upon -another viewpoint which seems to raise the value of my efforts. As has -been shown in the introduction to the first chapter, I found myself -confronted with a theme which had been marked by the sharpest -contradictions on the part of the authorities. After our elaboration of -the dream problems we found room for most of these contradictions. We -have been forced, however, to take decided exception to two of the views -pronounced, viz. that the dream is a senseless and that it is a somatic -process; apart from these cases we have had to accept all the -contradictory views in one place or another of the complicated argument, -and we have been able to demonstrate that they had discovered something -that was correct. That the dream continues the impulses and interests of -the waking state has been quite generally confirmed through the -discovery of the latent thoughts of the dream. These thoughts concern -themselves only with things that seem important and of momentous -interest to us. The dream never occupies itself with trifles. But we -have also concurred with the contrary view, viz. that the dream gathers -up the indifferent remnants from the day, and that not until it has in -some measure withdrawn itself from the waking activity can an important -event of the day be taken up by the dream. We found this holding true -for the dream content, which gives the dream thought its changed -expression by means of disfigurement. We have said that from the nature -of the association mechanism the dream process more easily takes -possession of recent or indifferent material which has not yet been -seized by the waking mental activity; and by reason of the censor it -transfers the psychic intensity from the important but also disagreeable -to the indifferent material. The hypermnesia of the dream and the resort -to infantile material have become main supports in our theory. In our -theory of the dream we have attributed to the wish originating from the -infantile the part of an indispensable motor for the formation of the -dream. We naturally could not think of doubting the experimentally -demonstrated significance of the objective sensory stimuli during sleep; -but we have brought this material into the same relation to the -dream-wish as the thought remnants from the waking activity. There was -no need of disputing the fact that the dream interprets the objective -sensory stimuli after the manner of an illusion; but we have supplied -the motive for this interpretation which has been left undecided by the -authorities. The interpretation follows in such a manner that the -perceived object is rendered harmless as a sleep disturber and becomes -available for the wish-fulfilment. Though we do not admit as special -sources of the dream the subjective state of excitement of the sensory -organs during sleep, which seems to have been demonstrated by Trumbull -Ladd,[40] we are nevertheless able to explain this excitement through -the regressive revival of active memories behind the dream. A modest -part in our conception has also been assigned to the inner organic -sensations which are wont to be taken as the cardinal point in the -explanation of the dream. These—the sensation of falling, flying, or -inhibition—stand as an ever ready material to be used by the dream-work -to express the dream thought as often as need arises. - -That the dream process is a rapid and momentary one seems to be true for -the perception through consciousness of the already prepared dream -content; the preceding parts of the dream process probably take a slow, -fluctuating course. We have solved the riddle of the superabundant dream -content compressed within the briefest moment by explaining that this is -due to the appropriation of almost fully formed structures from the -psychic life. That the dream is disfigured and distorted by memory we -found to be correct, but not troublesome, as this is only the last -manifest operation in the work of disfigurement which has been active -from the beginning of the dream-work. In the bitter and seemingly -irreconcilable controversy as to whether the psychic life sleeps at -night or can make the same use of all its capabilities as during the -day, we have been able to agree with both sides, though not fully with -either. We have found proof that the dream thoughts represent a most -complicated intellectual activity, employing almost every means -furnished by the psychic apparatus; still it cannot be denied that these -dream thoughts have originated during the day, and it is indispensable -to assume that there is a sleeping state of the psychic life. Thus, even -the theory of partial sleep has come into play; but the characteristics -of the sleeping state have been found not in the dilapidation of the -psychic connections but in the cessation of the psychic system -dominating the day, arising from its desire to sleep. The withdrawal -from the outer world retains its significance also for our conception; -though not the only factor, it nevertheless helps the regression to make -possible the representation of the dream. That we should reject the -voluntary guidance of the presentation course is uncontestable; but the -psychic life does not thereby become aimless, for we have seen that -after the abandonment of the desired end-presentation undesired ones -gain the mastery. The loose associative connection in the dream we have -not only recognised, but we have placed under its control a far greater -territory than could have been supposed; we have, however, found it -merely the feigned substitute for another correct and senseful one. To -be sure we, too, have called the dream absurd; but we have been able to -learn from examples how wise the dream really is when it simulates -absurdity. We do not deny any of the functions that have been attributed -to the dream. That the dream relieves the mind like a valve, and that, -according to Robert’s assertion, all kinds of harmful material are -rendered harmless through representation in the dream, not only exactly -coincides with our theory of the two-fold wish-fulfilment in the dream, -but, in his own wording, becomes even more comprehensible for us than -for Robert himself. The free indulgence of the psychic in the play of -its faculties finds expression with us in the non-interference with the -dream on the part of the foreconscious activity. The “return to the -embryonal state of psychic life in the dream” and the observation of -Havelock Ellis,[23] “an archaic world of vast emotions and imperfect -thoughts,” appear to us as happy anticipations of our deductions to the -effect that _primitive_ modes of work suppressed during the day -participate in the formation of the dream; and with us, as with -Delage,[15] the _suppressed_ material becomes the mainspring of the -dreaming. - -We have fully recognised the rôle which Scherner ascribes to the dream -phantasy, and even his interpretation; but we have been obliged, so to -speak, to conduct them to another department in the problem. It is not -the dream that produces the phantasy but the unconscious phantasy that -takes the greatest part in the formation of the dream thoughts. We are -indebted to Scherner for his clue to the source of the dream thoughts, -but almost everything that he ascribes to the dream-work is attributable -to the activity of the unconscious, which is at work during the day, and -which supplies incitements not only for dreams but for neurotic symptoms -as well. We have had to separate the dream-work from this activity as -being something entirely different and far more restricted. Finally, we -have by no means abandoned the relation of the dream to mental -disturbances, but, on the contrary, we have given it a more solid -foundation on new ground. - -Thus held together by the new material of our theory as by a superior -unity, we find the most varied and most contradictory conclusions of the -authorities fitting into our structure; some of them are differently -disposed, only a few of them are entirely rejected. But our own -structure is still unfinished. For, disregarding the many obscurities -which we have necessarily encountered in our advance into the darkness -of psychology, we are now apparently embarrassed by a new contradiction. -On the one hand, we have allowed the dream thoughts to proceed from -perfectly normal mental operations, while, on the other hand, we have -found among the dream thoughts a number of entirely abnormal mental -processes which extend likewise to the dream contents. These, -consequently, we have repeated in the interpretation of the dream. All -that we have termed the “dream-work” seems so remote from the psychic -processes recognised by us as correct, that the severest judgments of -the authors as to the low psychic activity of dreaming seem to us well -founded. - -Perhaps only through still further advance can enlightenment and -improvement be brought about. I shall pick out one of the constellations -leading to the formation of dreams. - -We have learned that the dream replaces a number of thoughts derived -from daily life which are perfectly formed logically. We cannot -therefore doubt that these thoughts originate from our normal mental -life. All the qualities which we esteem in our mental operations, and -which distinguish these as complicated activities of a high order, we -find repeated in the dream thoughts. There is, however, no need of -assuming that this mental work is performed during sleep, as this would -materially impair the conception of the psychic state of sleep we have -hitherto adhered to. These thoughts may just as well have originated -from the day, and, unnoticed by our consciousness from their inception, -they may have continued to develop until they stood complete at the -onset of sleep. If we are to conclude anything from this state of -affairs, it will at most prove _that the most complex mental operations -are possible without the co-operation of consciousness_, which we have -already learned independently from every psychoanalysis of persons -suffering from hysteria or obsessions. These dream thoughts are in -themselves surely not incapable of consciousness; if they have not -become conscious to us during the day, this may have various reasons. -The state of becoming conscious depends on the exercise of a certain -psychic function, viz. attention, which seems to be extended only in a -definite quantity, and which may have been withdrawn from the stream of -thought in question by other aims. Another way in which such mental -streams are kept from consciousness is the following:—Our conscious -reflection teaches us that when exercising attention we pursue a -definite course. But if that course leads us to an idea which does not -hold its own with the critic, we discontinue and cease to apply our -attention. Now, apparently, the stream of thought thus started and -abandoned may spin on without regaining attention unless it reaches a -spot of especially marked intensity which forces the return of -attention. An initial rejection, perhaps consciously brought about by -the judgment on the ground of incorrectness or unfitness for the actual -purpose of the mental act, may therefore account for the fact that a -mental process continues until the onset of sleep unnoticed by -consciousness. - -Let us recapitulate by saying that we call such a stream of thought a -foreconscious one, that we believe it to be perfectly correct, and that -it may just as well be a more neglected one or an interrupted and -suppressed one. Let us also state frankly in what manner we conceive -this presentation course. We believe that a certain sum of excitement, -which we call occupation energy, is displaced from an end-presentation -along the association paths selected by that end-presentation. A -“neglected” stream of thought has received no such occupation, and from -a “suppressed” or “rejected” one this occupation has been withdrawn; -both have thus been left to their own emotions. The end-stream of -thought stocked with energy is under certain conditions able to draw to -itself the attention of consciousness, through which means it then -receives a “surplus of energy.” We shall be obliged somewhat later to -elucidate our assumption concerning the nature and activity of -consciousness. - -A train of thought thus incited in the Forec. may either disappear -spontaneously or continue. The former issue we conceive as follows: It -diffuses its energy through all the association paths emanating from it, -and throws the entire chain of ideas into a state of excitement which, -after lasting for a while, subsides through the transformation of the -excitement requiring an outlet into dormant energy.[FX] If this first -issue is brought about the process has no further significance for the -dream formation. But other end-presentations are lurking in our -foreconscious that originate from the sources of our unconscious and -from the ever active wishes. These may take possession of the -excitations in the circle of thought thus left to itself, establish a -connection between it and the unconscious wish, and transfer to it the -energy inherent in the unconscious wish. Henceforth the neglected or -suppressed train of thought is in a position to maintain itself, -although this reinforcement does not help it to gain access to -consciousness. We may say that the hitherto foreconscious train of -thought has been drawn into the unconscious. - -Other constellations for the dream formation would result if the -foreconscious train of thought had from the beginning been connected -with the unconscious wish, and for that reason met with rejection by the -dominating end-occupation; or if an unconscious wish were made active -for other—possibly somatic—reasons and of its own accord sought a -transference to the psychic remnants not occupied by the Forec. All -three cases finally combine in one issue, so that there is established -in the foreconscious a stream of thought which, having been abandoned by -the foreconscious occupation, receives occupation from the unconscious -wish. - -The stream of thought is henceforth subjected to a series of -transformations which we no longer recognise as normal psychic processes -and which give us a surprising result, viz. a psychopathological -formation. Let us emphasize and group the same. - -1. The intensities of the individual ideas become capable of discharge -in their entirety, and, proceeding from one conception to the other, -they thus form single presentations endowed with marked intensity. -Through the repeated recurrence of this process the intensity of an -entire train of ideas may ultimately be gathered in a single -presentation element. This is the principle of _compression or -condensation_ with which we became acquainted in the chapter on “The -Dream-Work.” It is condensation that is mainly responsible for the -strange impression of the dream, for we know of nothing analogous to it -in the normal psychic life accessible to consciousness. We find here, -also, presentations which possess great psychic significance as -junctions or as end-results of whole chains of thought; but this -validity does not manifest itself in any character conspicuous enough -for internal perception; hence, what has been presented in it does not -become in any way more intensive. In the process of condensation the -entire psychic connection becomes transformed into the intensity of the -presentation content. It is the same as in a book where we space or -print in heavy type any word upon which particular stress is laid for -the understanding of the text. In speech the same word would be -pronounced loudly and deliberately and with emphasis. The first -comparison leads us at once to an example taken from the chapter on “The -Dream-Work” (trimethylamine in the dream of Irma’s injection). -Historians of art call our attention to the fact that the most ancient -historical sculptures follow a similar principle in expressing the rank -of the persons represented by the size of the statue. The king is made -two or three times as large as his retinue or the vanquished enemy. A -piece of art, however, from the Roman period makes use of more subtle -means to accomplish the same purpose. The figure of the emperor is -placed in the centre in a firmly erect posture; special care is bestowed -on the proper modelling of his figure; his enemies are seen cowering at -his feet; but he is no longer represented a giant among dwarfs. However, -the bowing of the subordinate to his superior in our own days is only an -echo of that ancient principle of representation. - -The direction taken by the condensations of the dream is prescribed on -the one hand by the true foreconscious relations of the dream thoughts, -on the other hand by the attraction of the visual reminiscences in the -unconscious. The success of the condensation work produces those -intensities which are required for penetration into the perception -systems. - -2. Through this free transferability of the intensities, -moreover, and in the service of condensation, _intermediary -presentations_—compromises, as it were—are formed (_cf._ the numerous -examples). This, likewise, is something unheard of in the normal -presentation course, where it is above all a question of selection and -retention of the “proper” presentation element. On the other hand, -composite and compromise formations occur with extraordinary frequency -when we are trying to find the linguistic expression for foreconscious -thoughts; these are considered “slips of the tongue.” - -3. The presentations which transfer their intensities to one another are -_very loosely connected_, and are joined together by such forms of -association as are spurned in our serious thought and are utilised in -the production of the effect of wit only. Among these we particularly -find associations of the sound and consonance types. - -4. Contradictory thoughts do not strive to eliminate one another, but -remain side by side. They often unite to produce condensation _as if no -contradiction_ existed, or they form compromises for which we should -never forgive our thoughts, but which we frequently approve of in our -actions. - -These are some of the most conspicuous abnormal processes to which the -thoughts which have previously been rationally formed are subjected in -the course of the dream-work. As the main feature of these processes we -recognise the high importance attached to the fact of rendering the -occupation energy mobile and capable of discharge; the content and the -actual significance of the psychic elements, to which these energies -adhere, become a matter of secondary importance. One might possibly -think that the condensation and compromise formation is effected only in -the service of regression, when occasion arises for changing thoughts -into pictures. But the analysis and—still more distinctly—the synthesis -of dreams which lack regression toward pictures, _e.g._ the dream -“Autodidasker—Conversation with Court-Councillor N.,” present the same -processes of displacement and condensation as the others. - -Hence we cannot refuse to acknowledge that the two kinds of essentially -different psychic processes participate in the formation of the dream; -one forms perfectly correct dream thoughts which are equivalent to -normal thoughts, while the other treats these ideas in a highly -surprising and incorrect manner. The latter process we have already set -apart in Chapter VI as the dream-work proper. What have we now to -advance concerning this latter psychic process? - -We should be unable to answer this question here if we had not -penetrated considerably into the psychology of the neuroses and -especially of hysteria. From this we learn that the same -incorrect psychic processes—as well as others that have not been -enumerated—control the formation of hysterical symptoms. In hysteria, -too, we at once find a series of perfectly correct thoughts equivalent -to our conscious thoughts, of whose existence, however, in this form we -can learn nothing and which we can only subsequently reconstruct. If -they have forced their way anywhere to our perception, we discover from -the analysis of the symptom formed that these normal thoughts have been -subjected to abnormal treatment and _have been transformed into the -symptom by means of condensation and compromise formation, through -superficial associations, under cover of contradictions, and eventually -over the road of regression_. In view of the complete identity found -between the peculiarities of the dream-work and of the psychic activity -forming the psychoneurotic symptoms, we shall feel justified in -transferring to the dream the conclusions urged upon us by hysteria. - -From the theory of hysteria we borrow the proposition that _such an -abnormal psychic elaboration of a normal train of thought takes place -only when the latter has been used for the transference of an -unconscious wish which dates from the infantile life and is in a state -of repression_. In accordance with this proposition we have construed -the theory of the dream on the assumption that the actuating dream-wish -invariably originates in the unconscious, which, as we ourselves have -admitted, cannot be universally demonstrated though it cannot be -refuted. But in order to explain the real meaning of the term -_repression_, which we have employed so freely, we shall be obliged to -make some further addition to our psychological construction. - -We have above elaborated the fiction of a primitive psychic apparatus, -whose work is regulated by the efforts to avoid accumulation of -excitement and as far as possible to maintain itself free from -excitement. For this reason it was constructed after the plan of a -reflex apparatus; the motility, originally the path for the inner bodily -change, formed a discharging path standing at its disposal. We -subsequently discussed the psychic results of a feeling of -gratification, and we might at the same time have introduced the second -assumption, viz. that accumulation of excitement—following certain -modalities that do not concern us—is perceived as pain and sets the -apparatus in motion in order to reproduce a feeling of gratification in -which the diminution of the excitement is perceived as pleasure. Such a -current in the apparatus which emanates from pain and strives for -pleasure we call a wish. We have said that nothing but a wish is capable -of setting the apparatus in motion, and that the discharge of excitement -in the apparatus is regulated automatically by the perception of -pleasure and pain. The first wish must have been an hallucinatory -occupation of the memory for gratification. But this hallucination, -unless it were maintained to the point of exhaustion, proved incapable -of bringing about a cessation of the desire and consequently of securing -the pleasure connected with gratification. - -Thus there was required a second activity—in our terminology the -activity of a second system—which should not permit the memory -occupation to advance to perception and therefrom to restrict the -psychic forces, but should lead the excitement emanating from the -craving stimulus by a devious path over the spontaneous motility which -ultimately should so change the outer world as to allow the real -perception of the object of gratification to take place. Thus far we -have elaborated the plan of the psychic apparatus; these two systems are -the germ of the Unc. and Forec. which we include in the fully developed -apparatus. - -In order to be in a position successfully to change the outer world -through the motility, there is required the accumulation of a large sum -of experiences in the memory systems as well as a manifold fixation of -the relations which are evoked in this memory material by different -end-presentations. We now proceed further with our assumption. The -manifold activity of the second system, tentatively sending forth and -retracting energy, must on the one hand have full command over all -memory material, but on the other hand it would be a superfluous -expenditure for it to send to the individual mental paths large -quantities of energy which would thus flow off to no purpose, -diminishing the quantity available for the transformation of the outer -world. In the interests of expediency I therefore postulate that the -second system succeeds in maintaining the greater part of the occupation -energy in a dormant state and in using but a small portion for the -purposes of displacement. The mechanism of these processes is entirely -unknown to me; anyone who wishes to follow up these ideas must try to -find the physical analogies and prepare the way for a demonstration of -the process of motion in the stimulation of the neuron. I merely hold to -the idea that the activity of the first Ψ-system is directed _to the -free outflow of the quantities of excitement_, and that the second -system brings about an inhibition of this outflow through the energies -emanating from it, _i.e._ it produces a _transformation into dormant -energy, probably by raising the level_. I therefore assume that under -the control of the second system as compared with the first, the course -of the excitement is bound to entirely different mechanical conditions. -After the second system has finished its tentative mental work, it -removes the inhibition and congestion of the excitements and allows -these excitements to flow off to the motility. - -An interesting train of thought now presents itself if we consider the -relations of this inhibition of discharge by the second system to the -regulation through the principle of pain. Let us now seek the -counterpart of the primary feeling of gratification, namely, the -objective feeling of fear. A perceptive stimulus acts on the primitive -apparatus, becoming the source of a painful emotion. This will then be -followed by irregular motor manifestations until one of these withdraws -the apparatus from perception and at the same time from pain, but on the -reappearance of the perception this manifestation will immediately -repeat itself (perhaps as a movement of flight) until the perception has -again disappeared. But there will here remain no tendency again to -occupy the perception of the source of pain in the form of an -hallucination or in any other form. On the contrary, there will be a -tendency in the primary apparatus to abandon the painful memory picture -as soon as it is in any way awakened, as the overflow of its excitement -would surely produce (more precisely, begin to produce) pain. The -deviation from memory, which is but a repetition of the former flight -from perception, is facilitated also by the fact that, unlike -perception, memory does not possess sufficient quality to excite -consciousness and thereby to attract to itself new energy. This easy and -regularly occurring deviation of the psychic process from the former -painful memory presents to us the model and the first example of -_psychic repression_. As is generally known, much of this deviation from -the painful, much of the behaviour of the ostrich, can be readily -demonstrated even in the normal psychic life of adults. - -By virtue of the principle of pain the first system is therefore -altogether incapable of introducing anything unpleasant into the mental -associations. The system cannot do anything but wish. If this remained -so the mental activity of the second system, which should have at its -disposal all the memories stored up by experiences, would be hindered. -But two ways are now opened: the work of the second system either frees -itself completely from the principle of pain and continues its course, -paying no heed to the painful reminiscence, or it contrives to occupy -the painful memory in such a manner as to preclude the liberation of -pain. We may reject the first possibility, as the principle of pain also -manifests itself as a regulator for the emotional discharge of the -second system; we are, therefore, directed to the second possibility, -namely, that this system occupies a reminiscence in such a manner as to -inhibit its discharge and hence, also, to inhibit the discharge -comparable to a motor innervation for the development of pain. Thus from -two starting points we are led to the hypothesis that occupation through -the second system is at the same time an inhibition for the emotional -discharge, viz. from a consideration of the principle of pain and from -the principle of the smallest expenditure of innervation. Let us, -however, keep to the fact—this is the key to the theory of -repression—that the second system is capable of occupying an idea only -when it is in position to check the development of pain emanating from -it. Whatever withdraws itself from this inhibition also remains -inaccessible for the second system and would soon be abandoned by virtue -of the principle of pain. The inhibition of pain, however, need not be -complete; it must be permitted to begin, as it indicates to the second -system the nature of the memory and possibly its defective adaptation -for the purpose sought by the mind. - -The psychic process which is admitted by the first system only I shall -now call the _primary_ process; and the one resulting from the -inhibition of the second system I shall call the _secondary_ process. I -show by another point for what purpose the second system is obliged to -correct the primary process. The primary process strives for a discharge -of the excitement in order to establish a _perception_ identity with the -sum of excitement thus gathered; the secondary process has abandoned -this intention and undertaken instead the task of bringing about a -_thought identity_. All thinking is only a circuitous path from the -memory of gratification taken as an end-presentation to the identical -occupation of the same memory, which is again to be attained on the -track of the motor experiences. The state of thinking must take an -interest in the connecting paths between the presentations without -allowing itself to be misled by their intensities. But it is obvious -that condensations and intermediate or compromise formations occurring -in the presentations impede the attainment of this end-identity; by -substituting one idea for the other they deviate from the path which -otherwise would have been continued from the original idea. Such -processes are therefore carefully avoided in the secondary thinking. Nor -is it difficult to understand that the principle of pain also impedes -the progress of the mental stream in its pursuit of the thought -identity, though, indeed, it offers to the mental stream the most -important points of departure. Hence the tendency of the thinking -process must be to free itself more and more from exclusive adjustment -by the principle of pain, and through the working of the mind to -restrict the affective development to that minimum which is necessary as -a signal. This refinement of the activity must have been attained -through a recent over-occupation of energy brought about by -consciousness. But we are aware that this refinement is seldom -completely successful even in the most normal psychic life and that our -thoughts ever remain accessible to falsification through the -interference of the principle of pain. - -This, however, is not the breach in the functional efficiency of our -psychic apparatus through which the thoughts forming the material of the -secondary mental work are enabled to make their way into the primary -psychic process—with which formula we may now describe the work leading -to the dream and to the hysterical symptoms. This case of insufficiency -results from the union of the two factors from the history of our -evolution; one of which belongs solely to the psychic apparatus and has -exerted a determining influence on the relation of the two systems, -while the other operates fluctuatingly and introduces motive forces of -organic origin into the psychic life. Both originate in the infantile -life and result from the transformation which our psychic and somatic -organism has undergone since the infantile period. - -When I termed one of the psychic processes in the psychic apparatus the -primary process, I did so not only in consideration of the order of -precedence and capability, but also as admitting the temporal relations -to a share in the nomenclature. As far as our knowledge goes there is no -psychic apparatus possessing only the primary process, and in so far it -is a theoretic fiction; but so much is based on fact that the primary -processes are present in the apparatus from the beginning, while the -secondary processes develop gradually in the course of life, inhibiting -and covering the primary ones, and gaining complete mastery over them -perhaps only at the height of life. Owing to this retarded appearance of -the secondary processes, the essence of our being, consisting in -unconscious wish feelings, can neither be seized nor inhibited by the -foreconscious, whose part is once for all restricted to the indication -of the most suitable paths for the wish feelings originating in the -unconscious. These unconscious wishes establish for all subsequent -psychic efforts a compulsion to which they have to submit and which they -must strive if possible to divert from its course and direct to higher -aims. In consequence of this retardation of the foreconscious occupation -a large sphere of the memory material remains inaccessible. - -Among these indestructible and unincumbered wish feelings originating -from the infantile life, there are also some, the fulfilments of which -have entered into a relation of contradiction to the end-presentation of -the secondary thinking. The fulfilment of these wishes would no longer -produce an affect of pleasure but one of pain; _and it is just this -transformation of affect that constitutes the nature of what we -designate as “repression,” in which we recognise the infantile first -step of passing adverse sentence or of rejecting through reason_. To -investigate in what way and through what motive forces such a -transformation can be produced constitutes the problem of repression, -which we need here only skim over. It will suffice to remark that such a -transformation of affect occurs in the course of development (one may -think of the appearance in infantile life of disgust which was -originally absent), and that it is connected with the activity of the -secondary system. The memories from which the unconscious wish brings -about the emotional discharge have never been accessible to the Forec., -and for that reason their emotional discharge cannot be inhibited. It is -just on account of this affective development that these ideas are not -even now accessible to the foreconscious thoughts to which they have -transferred their wishing power. On the contrary, the principle of pain -comes into play, and causes the Forec. to deviate from these thoughts of -transference. The latter, left to themselves, are “repressed,” and thus -the existence of a store of infantile memories, from the very beginning -withdrawn from the Forec., becomes the preliminary condition of -repression. - -In the most favourable case the development of pain terminates as soon -as the energy has been withdrawn from the thoughts of transference in -the Forec., and this effect characterises the intervention of the -principle of pain as expedient. It is different, however, if the -repressed unconscious wish receives an organic enforcement which it can -lend to its thoughts of transference and through which it can enable -them to make an effort towards penetration with their excitement, even -after they have been abandoned by the occupation of the Forec. A -defensive struggle then ensues, inasmuch as the Forec. reinforces the -antagonism against the repressed ideas, and subsequently this leads to a -penetration by the thoughts of transference (the carriers of the -unconscious wish) in some form of compromise through symptom formation. -But from the moment that the suppressed thoughts are powerfully occupied -by the unconscious wish-feeling and abandoned by the foreconscious -occupation, they succumb to the primary psychic process and strive only -for motor discharge; or, if the path be free, for hallucinatory revival -of the desired perception identity. We have previously found, -empirically, that the incorrect processes described are enacted only -with thoughts that exist in the repression. We now grasp another part of -the connection. These incorrect processes are those that are primary in -the psychic apparatus; _they appear wherever thoughts abandoned by the -foreconscious occupation are left to themselves, and can fill themselves -with the uninhibited energy, striving for discharge from the -unconscious_. We may add a few further observations to support the view -that these processes designated “incorrect” are really not -falsifications of the normal defective thinking, but the modes of -activity of the psychic apparatus when freed from inhibition. Thus we -see that the transference of the foreconscious excitement to the -motility takes place according to the same processes, and that the -connection of the foreconscious presentations with words readily -manifest the same displacements and mixtures which are described to -inattention. Finally, I should like to adduce proof that an increase of -work necessarily results from the inhibition of these primary courses -from the fact that we gain a _comical effect_, a surplus to be -discharged through laughter, _if we allow these streams of thought to -come to consciousness_. - -The theory of the psychoneuroses asserts with complete certainty that -only sexual wish-feelings from the infantile life experience repression -(emotional transformation) during the developmental period of childhood. -These are capable of returning to activity at a later period of -development, and then have the faculty of being revived, either as a -consequence of the sexual constitution, which is really formed from the -original bisexuality, or in consequence of unfavourable influences of -the sexual life; and they thus supply the motive power for all -psychoneurotic symptom formations. It is only by the introduction of -these sexual forces that the gaps still demonstrable in the theory of -repression can be filled. I will leave it undecided whether the -postulate of the sexual and infantile may also be asserted for the -theory of the dream; I leave this here unfinished because I have already -passed a step beyond the demonstrable in assuming that the dream-wish -invariably originates from the unconscious.[FY] Nor will I further -investigate the difference in the play of the psychic forces in the -dream formation and in the formation of the hysterical symptoms, for to -do this we ought to possess a more explicit knowledge of one of the -members to be compared. But I regard another point as important, and -will here confess that it was on account of this very point that I have -just undertaken this entire discussion concerning the two psychic -systems, their modes of operation, and the repression. For it is now -immaterial whether I have conceived the psychological relations in -question with approximate correctness, or, as is easily possible in such -a difficult matter, in an erroneous and fragmentary manner. Whatever -changes may be made in the interpretation of the psychic censor and of -the correct and of the abnormal elaboration of the dream content, the -fact nevertheless remains that such processes are active in dream -formation, and that essentially they show the closest analogy to the -processes observed in the formation of the hysterical symptoms. The -dream is not a pathological phenomenon, and it does not leave behind an -enfeeblement of the mental faculties. The objection that no deduction -can be drawn regarding the dreams of healthy persons from my own dreams -and from those of neurotic patients may be rejected without comment. -Hence, when we draw conclusions from the phenomena as to their motive -forces, we recognise that the psychic mechanism made use of by the -neuroses is not created by a morbid disturbance of the psychic life, but -is found ready in the normal structure of the psychic apparatus. The two -psychic systems, the censor crossing between them, the inhibition and -the covering of the one activity by the other, the relations of both to -consciousness—or whatever may offer a more correct interpretation of the -actual conditions in their stead—all these belong to the normal -structure of our psychic instrument, and the dream points out for us one -of the roads leading to a knowledge of this structure. If, in addition -to our knowledge, we wish to be contented with a minimum perfectly -established, we shall say that the dream gives us proof that the -_suppressed material continues to exist even in the normal person and -remains capable of psychic activity_. The dream itself is one of the -manifestations of this suppressed material; theoretically, this is true -in _all_ cases; according to substantial experience it is true in at -least a great number of such as most conspicuously display the prominent -characteristics of dream life. The suppressed psychic material, which in -the waking state has been prevented from expression and cut off from -internal perception _by the antagonistic adjustment of the -contradictions_, finds ways and means of obtruding itself on -consciousness during the night under the domination of the compromise -formations. - - “_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo._” - -At any rate the interpretation of dreams is the _via regia_ to a -knowledge of the unconscious in the psychic life. - -In following the analysis of the dream we have made some progress toward -an understanding of the composition of this most marvellous and most -mysterious of instruments; to be sure, we have not gone very far, but -enough of a beginning has been made to allow us to advance from other -so-called pathological formations further into the analysis of the -unconscious. Disease—at least that which is justly termed functional—is -not due to the destruction of this apparatus, and the establishment of -new splittings in its interior; it is rather to be explained dynamically -through the strengthening and weakening of the components in the play of -forces by which so many activities are concealed during the normal -function. We have been able to show in another place how the composition -of the apparatus from the two systems permits a subtilisation even of -the normal activity which would be impossible for a single system.[FZ] - - - (_f_) _The Unconscious and Consciousness—Reality._ - -On closer inspection we find that it is not the existence of two systems -near the motor end of the apparatus but of two kinds of processes or -modes of emotional discharge, the assumption of which was explained in -the psychological discussions of the previous chapter. This can make no -difference for us, for we must always be ready to drop our auxiliary -ideas whenever we deem ourselves in position to replace them by -something else approaching more closely to the unknown reality. Let us -now try to correct some views which might be erroneously formed as long -as we regarded the two systems in the crudest and most obvious sense as -two localities within the psychic apparatus, views which have left their -traces in the terms “repression” and “penetration.” Thus, when we say -that an unconscious idea strives for transference into the foreconscious -in order later to penetrate consciousness, we do not mean that a second -idea is to be formed situated in a new locality like an interlineation -near which the original continues to remain; also, when we speak of -penetration into consciousness, we wish carefully to avoid any idea of -change of locality. When we say that a foreconscious idea is repressed -and subsequently taken up by the unconscious, we might be tempted by -these figures, borrowed from the idea of a struggle over a territory, to -assume that an arrangement is really broken up in one psychic locality -and replaced by a new one in the other locality. For these comparisons -we substitute what would seem to correspond better with the real state -of affairs by saying that an energy occupation is displaced to or -withdrawn from a certain arrangement so that the psychic formation falls -under the domination of a system or is withdrawn from the same. Here -again we replace a topical mode of presentation by a dynamic; it is not -the psychic formation that appears to us as the moving factor but the -innervation of the same. - -I deem it appropriate and justifiable, however, to apply ourselves still -further to the illustrative conception of the two systems. We shall -avoid any misapplication of this manner of representation if we remember -that presentations, thoughts, and psychic formations should generally -not be localised in the organic elements of the nervous system, but, so -to speak, between them, where resistances and paths form the correlate -corresponding to them. Everything that can become an object of our -internal perception is virtual, like the image in the telescope produced -by the passage of the rays of light. But we are justified in assuming -the existence of the systems, which have nothing psychic in themselves -and which never become accessible to our psychic perception, -corresponding to the lenses of the telescope which design the image. If -we continue this comparison, we may say that the censor between two -systems corresponds to the refraction of rays during their passage into -a new medium. - -Thus far we have made psychology on our own responsibility; it is now -time to examine the theoretical opinions governing present-day -psychology and to test their relation to our theories. The question of -the unconscious in psychology is, according to the authoritative words -of Lipps,[GA] less a psychological question than the question of -psychology. As long as psychology settled this question with the verbal -explanation that the “psychic” is the “conscious” and that “unconscious -psychic occurrences” are an obvious contradiction, a psychological -estimate of the observations gained by the physician from abnormal -mental states was precluded. The physician and the philosopher agree -only when both acknowledge that unconscious psychic processes are “the -appropriate and well-justified expression for an established fact.” The -physician cannot but reject with a shrug of his shoulders the assertion -that “consciousness is the indispensable quality of the psychic”; he may -assume, if his respect for the utterings of the philosophers still be -strong enough, that he and they do not treat the same subject and do not -pursue the same science. For a single intelligent observation of the -psychic life of a neurotic, a single analysis of a dream must force upon -him the unalterable conviction that the most complicated and correct -mental operations, to which no one will refuse the name of psychic -occurrences, may take place without exciting the consciousness of the -person. It is true that the physician does not learn of these -unconscious processes until they have exerted such an effect on -consciousness as to admit communication or observation. But this effect -of consciousness may show a psychic character widely differing from the -unconscious process, so that the internal perception cannot possibly -recognise the one as a substitute for the other. The physician must -reserve for himself the right to penetrate, by a process of deduction, -from the effect on consciousness to the unconscious psychic process; he -learns in this way that the effect on consciousness is only a remote -psychic product of the unconscious process and that the latter has not -become conscious as such; that it has been in existence and operative -without betraying itself in any way to consciousness. - -A reaction from the over-estimation of the quality of consciousness -becomes the indispensable preliminary condition for any correct insight -into the behaviour of the psychic. In the words of Lipps, the -unconscious must be accepted as the general basis of the psychic life. -The unconscious is the larger circle which includes within itself the -smaller circle of the conscious; everything conscious has its -preliminary step in the unconscious, whereas the unconscious may stop -with this step and still claim full value as a psychic activity. -Properly speaking, the unconscious is the real psychic; _its inner -nature is just as unknown to us as the reality of the external world, -and it is just as imperfectly reported to us through the data of -consciousness as is the external world through the indications of our -sensory organs_. - -A series of dream problems which have intensely occupied older authors -will be laid aside when the old opposition between conscious life and -dream life is abandoned and the unconscious psychic assigned to its -proper place. Thus many of the activities whose performances in the -dream have excited our admiration are now no longer to be attributed to -the dream but to unconscious thinking, which is also active during the -day. If, according to Scherner, the dream seems to play with a -symbolising representation of the body, we know that this is the work of -certain unconscious phantasies which have probably given in to sexual -emotions, and that these phantasies come to expression not only in -dreams but also in hysterical phobias and in other symptoms. If the -dream continues and settles activities of the day and even brings to -light valuable inspirations, we have only to subtract from it the dream -disguise as a feat of dream-work and a mark of assistance from obscure -forces in the depth of the mind (_cf._ the devil in Tartini’s sonata -dream). The intellectual task as such must be attributed to the same -psychic forces which perform all such tasks during the day. We are -probably far too much inclined to over-estimate the conscious character -even of intellectual and artistic productions. From the communications -of some of the most highly productive persons, such as Goethe and -Helmholtz, we learn, indeed, that the most essential and original parts -in their creations came to them in the form of inspirations and reached -their perceptions almost finished. There is nothing strange about the -assistance of the conscious activity in other cases where there was a -concerted effort of all the psychic forces. But it is a much abused -privilege of the conscious activity that it is allowed to hide from us -all other activities wherever it participates. - -It will hardly be worth while to take up the historical significance of -dreams as a special subject. Where, for instance, a chieftain has been -urged through a dream to engage in a bold undertaking the success of -which has had the effect of changing history, a new problem results only -so long as the dream, regarded as a strange power, is contrasted with -other more familiar psychic forces; the problem, however, disappears -when we regard the dream as a form of expression for feelings which are -burdened with resistance during the day and which can receive -reinforcements at night from deep emotional sources.[GB] But the great -respect shown by the ancients for the dream is based on a correct -psychological surmise. It is a homage paid to the unsubdued and -indestructible in the human mind, and to the demoniacal which furnishes -the dream-wish and which we find again in our unconscious. - -Not inadvisedly do I use the expression “in our unconscious,” for what -we so designate does not coincide with the unconscious of the -philosophers, nor with the unconscious of Lipps. In the latter uses it -is intended to designate only the opposite of conscious. That there are -also unconscious psychic processes beside the conscious ones is the -hotly contested and energetically defended issue. Lipps gives us the -more far-reaching theory that everything psychic exists as unconscious, -but that some of it may exist also as conscious. But it was not to prove -this theory that we have adduced the phenomena of the dream and of the -hysterical symptom formation; the observation of normal life alone -suffices to establish its correctness beyond any doubt. The new fact -that we have learned from the analysis of the psychopathological -formations, and indeed from their first member, viz. dreams, is that the -unconscious—hence the psychic—occurs as a function of two separate -systems and that it occurs as such even in normal psychic life. -Consequently there are two kinds of unconscious, which we do not as yet -find distinguished by the psychologists. Both are unconscious in the -psychological sense; but in our sense the first, which we call Unc., is -likewise incapable of consciousness, whereas the second we term “Forec.” -because its emotions, after the observance of certain rules, can reach -consciousness, perhaps not before they have again undergone censorship, -but still regardless of the Unc. system. The fact that in order to -attain consciousness the emotions must traverse an unalterable series of -events or succession of instances, as is betrayed through their -alteration by the censor, has helped us to draw a comparison from -spatiality. We described the relations of the two systems to each other -and to consciousness by saying that the system Forec. is like a screen -between the system Unc. and consciousness. The system Forec. not only -bars access to consciousness, but also controls the entrance to -voluntary motility and is capable of sending out a sum of mobile energy, -a portion of which is familiar to us as attention. - -We must also steer clear of the distinctions superconscious and -subconscious which have found so much favour in the more recent -literature on the psychoneuroses, for just such a distinction seems to -emphasize the equivalence of the psychic and the conscious. - -What part now remains in our description of the once all-powerful and -all-overshadowing consciousness? None other than that of a sensory organ -for the perception of psychic qualities. According to the fundamental -idea of schematic undertaking we can conceive the conscious perception -only as the particular activity of an independent system for which the -abbreviated designation “Cons.” commends itself. This system we conceive -to be similar in its mechanical characteristics to the perception system -P, hence excitable by qualities and incapable of retaining the trace of -changes, _i.e._ it is devoid of memory. The psychic apparatus which, -with the sensory organs of the P-systems, is turned to the outer world, -is itself the outer world for the sensory organ of Cons.; the -teleological justification of which rests on this relationship. We are -here once more confronted with the principle of the succession of -instances which seems to dominate the structure of the apparatus. The -material under excitement flows to the Cons. sensory organ from two -sides, firstly from the P-system whose excitement, qualitatively -determined, probably experiences a new elaboration until it comes to -conscious perception; and, secondly, from the interior of the apparatus -itself, the quantitative processes of which are perceived as a -qualitative series of pleasure and pain as soon as they have undergone -certain changes. - -The philosophers, who have learned that correct and highly complicated -thought structures are possible even without the co-operation of -consciousness, have found it difficult to attribute any function to -consciousness; it has appeared to them a superfluous mirroring of the -perfected psychic process. The analogy of our Cons. system with the -systems of perception relieves us of this embarrassment. We see that -perception through our sensory organs results in directing the -occupation of attention to those paths on which the incoming sensory -excitement is diffused; the qualitative excitement of the P-system -serves the mobile quantity of the psychic apparatus as a regulator for -its discharge. We may claim the same function for the overlying sensory -organ of the Cons. system. By assuming new qualities, it furnishes a new -contribution toward the guidance and suitable distribution of the mobile -occupation quantities. By means of the perceptions of pleasure and pain, -it influences the course of the occupations within the psychic -apparatus, which normally operates unconsciously and through the -displacement of quantities. It is probable that the principle of pain -first regulates the displacements of occupation automatically, but it is -quite possible that the consciousness of these qualities adds a second -and more subtle regulation which may even oppose the first and perfect -the working capacity of the apparatus by placing it in a position -contrary to its original design for occupying and developing even that -which is connected with the liberation of pain. We learn from -neuropsychology that an important part in the functional activity of the -apparatus is attributed to such regulations through the qualitative -excitation of the sensory organs. The automatic control of the primary -principle of pain and the restriction of mental capacity connected with -it are broken by the sensible regulations, which in their turn are again -automatisms. We learn that the repression which, though originally -expedient, terminates nevertheless in a harmful rejection of inhibition -and of psychic domination, is so much more easily accomplished with -reminiscences than with perceptions, because in the former there is no -increase in occupation through the excitement of the psychic sensory -organs. When an idea to be rejected has once failed to become conscious -because it has succumbed to repression, it can be repressed on other -occasions only because it has been withdrawn from conscious perception -on other grounds. These are hints employed by therapy in order to bring -about a retrogression of accomplished repressions. - -The value of the over-occupation which is produced by the regulating -influence of the Cons. sensory organ on the mobile quantity, is -demonstrated in the teleological connection by nothing more clearly than -by the creation of a new series of qualities and consequently a new -regulation which constitutes the precedence of man over the animals. For -the mental processes are in themselves devoid of quality except for the -excitements of pleasure and pain accompanying them, which, as we know, -are to be held in check as possible disturbances of thought. In order to -endow them with a quality, they are associated in man with verbal -memories, the qualitative remnants of which suffice to draw upon them -the attention of consciousness which in turn endows thought with a new -mobile energy. - -The manifold problems of consciousness in their entirety can be examined -only through an analysis of the hysterical mental process. From this -analysis we receive the impression that the transition from the -foreconscious to the occupation of consciousness is also connected with -a censorship similar to the one between the Unc. and the Forec. This -censorship, too, begins to act only with the reaching of a certain -quantitative degree, so that few intense thought formations escape it. -Every possible case of detention from consciousness, as well as of -penetration to consciousness, under restriction is found included within -the picture of the psychoneurotic phenomena; every case points to the -intimate and two-fold connection between the censor and consciousness. I -shall conclude these psychological discussions with the report of two -such occurrences. - -On the occasion of a consultation a few years ago the subject was an -intelligent and innocent-looking girl. Her attire was strange; whereas a -woman’s garb is usually groomed to the last fold, she had one of her -stockings hanging down and two of her waist buttons opened. She -complained of pains in one of her legs, and exposed her leg unrequested. -Her chief complaint, however, was in her own words as follows: She had a -feeling in her body as if something was stuck into it which moved to and -fro and made her tremble through and through. This sometimes made her -whole body stiff. On hearing this, my colleague in consultation looked -at me; the complaint was quite plain to him. To both of us it seemed -peculiar that the patient’s mother thought nothing of the matter; of -course she herself must have been repeatedly in the situation described -by her child. As for the girl, she had no idea of the import of her -words or she would never have allowed them to pass her lips. Here the -censor had been deceived so successfully that under the mask of an -innocent complaint a phantasy was admitted to consciousness which -otherwise would have remained in the foreconscious. - -Another example: I began the psychoanalytic treatment of a boy of -fourteen years who was suffering from _tic convulsif_, hysterical -vomiting, headache, &c., by assuring him that, after closing his eyes, -he would see pictures or have ideas, which I requested him to -communicate to me. He answered by describing pictures. The last -impression he had received before coming to me was visually revived in -his memory. He had played a game of checkers with his uncle, and now saw -the checker-board before him. He commented on various positions that -were favourable or unfavourable, on moves that were not safe to make. He -then saw a dagger lying on the checker-board, an object belonging to his -father, but transferred to the checker-board by his phantasy. Then a -sickle was lying on the board; next a scythe was added; and, finally, he -beheld the likeness of an old peasant mowing the grass in front of the -boy’s distant parental home. A few days later I discovered the meaning -of this series of pictures. Disagreeable family relations had made the -boy nervous. It was the case of a strict and crabbed father who lived -unhappily with his mother, and whose educational methods consisted in -threats; of the separation of his father from his tender and delicate -mother, and the remarrying of his father, who one day brought home a -young woman as his new mamma. The illness of the fourteen-year-old boy -broke out a few days later. It was the suppressed anger against his -father that had composed these pictures into intelligible allusions. The -material was furnished by a reminiscence from mythology. The sickle was -the one with which Zeus castrated his father; the scythe and the -likeness of the peasant represented Kronos, the violent old man who eats -his children and upon whom Zeus wreaks vengeance in so unfilial a -manner. The marriage of the father gave the boy an opportunity to return -the reproaches and threats of his father—which had previously been made -because the child played with his genitals (the checker-board; the -prohibitive moves; the dagger with which a person may be killed). We -have here long repressed memories and their unconscious remnants which, -under the guise of senseless pictures have slipped into consciousness by -devious paths left open to them. - -I should then expect to find the theoretical value of the study of -dreams in its contribution to psychological knowledge and in its -preparation for an understanding of neuroses. Who can foresee the -importance of a thorough knowledge of the structure and activities of -the psychic apparatus when even our present state of knowledge produces -a happy therapeutic influence in the curable forms of the -psychoneuroses? What about the practical value of such study someone may -ask, for psychic knowledge and for the discovering of the secret -peculiarities of individual character? Have not the unconscious feelings -revealed by the dream the value of real forces in the psychic life? -Should we take lightly the ethical significance of the suppressed wishes -which, as they now create dreams, may some day create other things? - -I do not feel justified in answering these questions. I have not thought -further upon this side of the dream problem. I believe, however, that at -all events the Roman Emperor was in the wrong who ordered one of his -subjects executed because the latter dreamt that he had killed the -Emperor. He should first have endeavoured to discover the significance -of the dream; most probably it was not what it seemed to be. And even if -a dream of different content had the significance of this offence -against majesty, it would still have been in place to remember the words -of Plato, that the virtuous man contents himself with dreaming that -which the wicked man does in actual life. I am therefore of the opinion -that it is best to accord freedom to dreams. Whether any reality is to -be attributed to the unconscious wishes, and in what sense, I am not -prepared to say offhand. Reality must naturally be denied to all -transition—and intermediate thoughts. If we had before us the -unconscious wishes, brought to their last and truest expression, we -should still do well to remember that more than one single form of -existence must be ascribed to the psychic reality. Action and the -conscious expression of thought mostly suffice for the practical need of -judging a man’s character. Action, above all, merits to be placed in the -first rank; for many of the impulses penetrating consciousness are -neutralised by real forces of the psychic life before they are converted -into action; indeed, the reason why they frequently do not encounter any -psychic obstacle on their way is because the unconscious is certain of -their meeting with resistances later. In any case it is instructive to -become familiar with the much raked-up soil from which our virtues -proudly arise. For the complication of human character moving -dynamically in all directions very rarely accommodates itself to -adjustment through a simple alternative, as our antiquated moral -philosophy would have it. - -And how about the value of the dream for a knowledge of the future? -That, of course, we cannot consider.[GC] One feels inclined to -substitute: “for a knowledge of the past.” For the dream originates from -the past in every sense. To be sure the ancient belief that the dream -reveals the future is not entirely devoid of truth. By representing to -us a wish as fulfilled the dream certainly leads us into the future; but -this future, taken by the dreamer as present, has been formed into the -likeness of that past by the indestructible wish. - - - - - VIII - LITERARY INDEX - - -Footnote 1: - - Aristoteles. _Über Träume und Traumdeutungen._ Translated by Bender. - -Footnote 2: - - Artemidoros aus Daldis. _Symbolik der Träume._ Translated by - Friedrich. S. Krauss. Wien, 1881. - -Footnote 3: - - Benini, V. “La Memoria e la Durata dei Sogni.” _Rivista Italiana de - Filosofia_, Marz-April 1898. - -Footnote 4: - - Binz, C. _Über den Traum._ Bonn, 1878. - -Footnote 5: - - Borner, J. _Das Alpdrücken, seine Begründung und Verhütung._ Würzburg, - 1855. - -Footnote 6: - - Bradley, J. H. “On the Failure of Movement in Dream.” _Mind_, July - 1894. - -Footnote 7: - - Brander, R. _Der Schlaf und das Traumleben._ 1884. - -Footnote 8: - - Burdach. _Die Physiologie als Erfahrungswissenschaft_, 3 Bd. 1830. - -Footnote 9: - - Büchsenschütz, B. _Traum und Traumdeutung in Altertum._ Berlin, 1868. - -Footnote 10: - - Chaslin, Ph. _Du Rôle du Rêve dans l’Evolution du Délire._ Thèse de - Paris. 1887. - -Footnote 11: - - Chabaneix. _Le Subconscient chez les Artistes, les Savants et les - Ecrivains._ Paris, 1897. - -Footnote 12: - - Calkins, Mary Whiton. “Statistics of Dreams.” _Amer. J. of - Psychology_, V., 1893. - -Footnote 13: - - Clavière. “La Rapidité de la Pensée dans le Rêve.” _Revue - philosophique_, XLIII., 1897. - -Footnote 14: - - Dandolo, G. _La Coscienza nel Sonno._ Padova, 1889. - -Footnote 15: - - Delage, Yves. “Une Théorie de Rêve.” _Revue scientifique_, II, Juli - 1891. - -Footnote 16: - - Delbœuf, J. _Le Sommeil et les Rêves._ Paris, 1885. - -Footnote 17: - - Debacker. _Terreurs nocturnes des Enfants._ Thèses de Paris. 1881. - -Footnote 18: - - Dugas. “Le Souvenir du Rêve.” _Revue philosophique_, XLIV., 1897. - -Footnote 19: - - Dugas. “Le Sommeil et la Cérébration inconsciente durant le Sommeil.” - _Revue philosophique_, XLIII., 1897. - -Footnote 20: - - Egger, V. “La Durée apparente des Rêves.” _Revue philosophique_, Juli - 1895. - -Footnote 21: - - Egger. “Le Souvenir dans le Rêve.” _Revue philosophique_, XLVI., 1898. - -Footnote 22: - - Ellis Havelock. “On Dreaming of the Dead.” _The Psychological Review_, - II., Nr. 5, September 1895. - -Footnote 23: - - Ellis Havelock. “The Stuff that Dreams are made of.” _Appleton’s - Popular Science Monthly_, April 1899. - -Footnote 24: - - Ellis Havelock. “A Note on Hypnogogic Paramnesia.” _Mind_, April 1897. - -Footnote 25: - - Fechner, G. Th. _Elemente der Psychophysik._ 2 Aufl., 1889. - -Footnote 26: - - Fichte, J. H. “Psychologie.” _Die Lehre vom bewussten Geiste des - Menschen._ I. Teil. Leipzig, 1864. - -Footnote 27: - - Giessler, M. _Aus den Tiefen des Traumlebens._ Halle, 1890. - -Footnote 28: - - Giessler, M. _Die physiologischen Beziehungen der Traumvorgänge._ - Halle, 1896. - -Footnote 29: - - Goblot. “Sur le Souvenir des Rêves.” _Revue philosophique_, XLII., - 1896. - -Footnote 30: - - Graffunder. _Traum und Traumdeutung._ 1894. - -Footnote 31: - - Griesinger. _Pathologie und Therapie der psychischen Krankheiten._ 3 - Aufl. 1871. - -Footnote 32: - - Haffner, P. “Schlafen und Träumen. 1884.” _Frankfurter zeitgemässe - Broschüren_, 5 Bd., Heft. 10. - -Footnote 33: - - Hallam, Fl., and Sarah Weed. “A Study of the Dream Consciousness.” - _Amer. J. of Psychology_, VII., Nr. 3, April 1896. - -Footnote 34: - - D’Hervey. _Les Rêves et les Moyens de les Diriger._ Paris, 1867 - (anonym.). - -Footnote 35: - - Hildebrandt, F. W. _Der Traum und seine Verwertung für Leben._ - Leipzig, 1875. - -Footnote 36: - - Jessen. _Versuch einer Wissenschaftlichen Begründung der Psychologie._ - Berlin, 1856. - -Footnote 37: - - Jodl. _Lehrbuch der Psychologie._ Stuttgart, 1896. - -Footnote 38: - - Kant, J. _Anthropologie in pragmatischer Hinsicht._ Kirchmannsche - Ausgabe. Leipzig, 1880. - -Footnote 39: - - Krauss, A. “Der Sinn im Wahnsinn.” _Allgemeine Zeitschrift für - Psychologie_, XV. u. XVI., 1858–1859. - -Footnote 40: - - Ladd. “Contribution to the Psychology of Visual Dreams.” _Mind_, April - 1892. - -Footnote 41: - - Leidesdorf, M. _Das Traumleben._ Wien, 1880. Sammlung der “Alma - Mater.” - -Footnote 42: - - Lémoine. _Du Sommeil au Point de Vue physiologique et psychologique._ - Paris, 1885. - -Footnote 43: - - Lièbeault, A. _Le Sommeil provoqué et les Etats analogues._ Paris, - 1889. - -Footnote 44: - - Lipps, Th. _Grundtatsachen des Seelenlebens._ Bonn, 1883. - -Footnote 45: - - Le Lorrain. “Le Rêve.” _Revue philosophique._ Juli 1895. - -Footnote 46: - - Maudsley. _The Pathology of Mind._ 1879. - -Footnote 47: - - Maury, A. “Analogies des Phénomènes du Rêve et de l’Aliènation - Mentale.” _Annales med. psych._, 1854, p. 404. - -Footnote 48: - - Maury, A. _Le Sommeil et les Rêves._ Paris, 1878. - -Footnote 49: - - Moreau, J. “De l’Identité de l’Etat de Rêve et de Folie.” _Annales - med. psych._, 1855, p. 361. - -Footnote 50: - - Nelson, J. “A Study of Dreams.” _Amer. J. of Psychology_, I., 1888. - -Footnote 51: - - Pilcz. “Über eine gewisse Gesetzmässigkeit in den Träumen.” - Autorreferat in _Monatsschrift für Psychologie und Neurologie_. März - 1899. - -Footnote 52: - - Pfaff, E. R. _Das Traumleben und seine Deutung nach den Prinzipien der - Araber, Perser, Griechen, Indier und Ägypter._ Leipzig, 1868. - -Footnote 53: - - Purkinje. Artikel: _Wachen, Schlaf, Traum und verwandte Zustände in - Wagners Handwörterbuch der Physiologie_. 1846. - -Footnote 54: - - Radestock, P. _Schlaf und Traum._ Leipzig, 1878. - -Footnote 55: - - Robert, W. _Der Traum als Naturnotwendigkeit erklärt._ 1886. - -Footnote 56: - - Sante de Sanctis. _Les Maladies mentales et les Rêves._ 1897. Extrait - des _Annales de la Société de Médecine de Gand_. - -Footnote 57: - - Sante de Sanctis. “Sui rapporti d’Identità, di Somiglianza, di - Analogia e di Equivalenza fra Sogno e Pazzia.” _Rivista quindicinale - di Psicologia, Psichiatria, Neuropatologia._ 15, Nov. 1897. - -Footnote 58: - - Scherner, R. A. _Das Leben des Traumes._ Berlin, 1861. - -Footnote 59: - - Scholz, Fr. _Schlaf und Traum._ Leipzig, 1887. - -Footnote 60: - - Schopenhauer. “Versuch über das Geistersehen und was damit - zusammenhängt.” _Parerga und Paralipomena_, 1. Bd., 1857. - -Footnote 61: - - Schleiermacher, Fr. _Psychologie._ Edited by L. George. Berlin, 1862. - -Footnote 62: - - Siebek, A. _Das Traumleben der Seele._ 1877. _Sammlung - Virchow-Holtzendorf._ Nr. 279. - -Footnote 63: - - Simon, M. “Le Monde des Rêves.” Paris, 1888. _Bibliothèque - scientifique contemporaine._ - -Footnote 64: - - Spitta, W. _Die Schlaf- und Traumzustände der menschlichen Seele._ 2. - Aufl. Freiburg, I. B., 1892. - -Footnote 65: - - Stumpf, E. J. G. _Der Traum und seine Deutung._ Leipzig, 1899. - -Footnote 66: - - Strümpell, L. _Die Natur und Entstehung der Träume._ Leipzig, 1877. - -Footnote 67: - - Tannery. “Sur la Mémoire dans le Rêve.” _Revue philosophique_, XLV., - 1898. - -Footnote 68: - - Tissié, Ph. “Les Rêves, Physiologie et Pathologie.” 1898. - _Bibliothèque de Philosophie contemporaine._ - -Footnote 69: - - Titchener. “Taste Dreams.” _Amer. Jour. of Psychology_, VI., 1893. - -Footnote 70: - - Thomayer. “Sur la Signification de quelques Rêves.” _Revue - neurologique._ Nr. 4, 1897. - -Footnote 71: - - Vignoli. “Von den Träumen, Illusionen und Halluzinationen.” - _Internationale wissenschaftliche Bibliothek_, Bd. 47. - -Footnote 72: - - Volkelt, J. _Die Traumphantasie._ Stuttgart, 1875. - -Footnote 73: - - Vold, J. Mourly. “Expériences sur les Rêves et en particulier sur ceux - d’Origine musculaire et optique.” Christiania, 1896. Abstract in the - _Revue philosophique_, XLII., 1896. - -Footnote 74: - - Vold, J. Mourly. “Einige Experimente über Gesichtsbilder im Träume.” - _Dritter internationaler Kongress für Psychologie in München._ 1897. - -Footnote 74a: - - (Vold, J. Mourly. “Über den Traum.” _Experimentell-psychologische - Untersuchungen._ Herausgegeben von O. Klemm. Erster Band. Leipzig, - 1910.) - -Footnote 75: - - Weygandt, W. _Entstehung der Träume._ Leipzig, 1893. - -Footnote 76: - - Wundt. _Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie._ II. Bd., 2 Aufl. - 1880. - -Footnote 77: - - Stricker. _Studien über das Bewusstsein._ Wien, 1879. - -Footnote 78: - - Stricker. _Studien über die Assoziation der Vorstellungen._ Wien, - 1883. - - - PSYCHOANALYTIC LITERATURE OF DREAMS - -Footnote 79: - - Abraham, Karl (Berlin): _Traum und Mythos: Eine Studie zur - Volker-psychologie_. Schriften z. angew. Seelenkunde, Heft 4, Wien und - Leipzig, 1909. - -Footnote 80: - - Abraham, Karl (Berlin): “Über hysterische Traumzustände.” (_Jahrbuch - f. psychoanalyt. und psychopatholog._ Forschungen, Vol. II., 1910.) - -Footnote 81: - - Adler, Alfred (Wien): “Zwei Träume einer Prostituierten.” - (_Zeitschrift f. Sexualwissenschaft_, 1908, Nr. 2.) - -Footnote 82: - - Adler, Alfred (Wien): “Ein erlogener Traum.” (_Zentralbl. f. - Psychoanalyse_, 1. Jahrg. 1910, Heft 3.) - -Footnote 83: - - Bleuler, E. (Zürich): “Die Psychoanalyse Freuds.” (_Jahrb. f. - psychoanalyt. u. psychopatholog._ Forschungen, Bd. II., 1910.) - -Footnote 84: - - Brill, A. A. (New York): “Dreams and their Relation to the Neuroses.” - (_New York Medical Journal_, April 23, 1910.) - - Brill. Hysterical Dreamy States. Ebenda, May 25, 1912. - -Footnote 85: - - Ellis, Havelock: “The Symbolism of Dreams.” (_The Popular Science - Monthly_, July 1910.) - -Footnote 86: - - Ellis, Havelock: _The World of Dreams_. London, 1911. - -Footnote 87: - - Ferenczi, S. (Budapest): “Die psychologische Analyse der Träume.” - (_Psychiatrisch-neurologische Wochenschrift_, XII., Jahrg., Nr. 11–13, - Juni 1910. English translation under the title: _The Psychological - Analysis of Dreams_ in the _American Journal of Psychology_, April - 1910.) - -Footnote 88: - - Freud, S. (Wien): “Über den Traum.” (_Grenzfragen des Nerven- und - Seelenlebens._ Edited by Löwenfeld und Kurella, Heft 8. Wiesbaden, - Bergmann, 1901, 2. Aufl. 1911.) - -Footnote 89: - - Freud, S. (Wien): “Bruchstück einer Hysterieanalyse.” (_Monatsschr. f. - Psychiatrie und Neurologie_, Bd. 18, Heft 4 und 5, 1905. Reprinted in - Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, 2. Folge. Leipzig u. - Wien, 1909.) - -Footnote 90: - - Freud, S. (Wien): “Der Wahn und die Träume in W. Jensen’s _Gradiva_.” - (_Schriften zur angewandten Seelenkunde_, Heft 1, Wien und Leipzig, - 1907.) - -Footnote 91: - - Freud, S. (Wien): “Über den Gegensinn der Urworte.” A review of the - brochure of the same name by Karl Abel, 1884. (_Jahrbuch für - psychoanalyt. und psychopatholog._ Forschungen, Bd. II., 1910.) - -Footnote 92: - - “Typisches Beispiel eines verkappten Ödipustraumes.” (_Zentralbl. für - Psychoanalyse_, I. Jahrg. 1910, Heft 1.) - -Footnote 93: - - Freud, S. (Wien): _Nachträge zur Traumdeutung_. (Ebenda, Heft 5.) - -Footnote 94: - - Hitschmann, Ed. (Wien): _Freud’s Neurosenlehre. Nach ihrem - gegenwärtigen Stande zusammenfassend dargestellt._ Wien und Leipzig, - 1911. (Kap. V., “Der Traum.”) - -Footnote 95: - - Jones, Ernest (Toronto): “Freud’s Theory of Dreams.” (_American - Journal of Psychology_, April 1910.) - -Footnote 96: - - Jones, Ernest (Toronto): “Some Instances of the Influence of Dreams on - Waking Life.” (_The Journ. of Abnormal Psychology_, April-May 1911.) - -Footnote 97: - - Jung, C. G. (Zürich): “L’Analyse des Rêves.” (_L’Année psychologique_, - tome XV.) - -Footnote 98: - - Jung, C. G. (Zürich): “Assoziation, Traum und hysterisches Symptom.” - (_Diagnostische Assoziationsstudien._ Beiträge zur experimentellen - Psychopathologie, hrg. von Doz. C. G. Jung, II. Bd., Leipzig 1910. Nr. - VIII., S. 31–66.) - -Footnote 99: - - Jung, C. G. (Zürich): “Ein Beitrag zur Psychologie des Gerüchtes.” - (_Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, I. Jahrg. 1910, Heft 3.) - -Footnote 100: - - Maeder, Alphonse (Zürich): “Essai d’Interprétation de quelques Rêves.” - (_Archives de Psychologie_, t. VI., Nr. 24, April 1907.) - -Footnote 101: - - Maeder, Alphonse (Zürich): “Die Symbolik in den Legenden, Märchen, - Gebrauchen und Träumen.” (_Psychiatrisch-Neurolog._ Wochenschr. X. - Jahrg.) - -Footnote 102: - - Meisl, Alfred (Wien): _Der Traum. Analytische Studien über die - Elemente der Psychischen Funktion_ V. (Wr. klin. Rdsch., 1907, Nr. - 3–6.) - -Footnote 103: - - Onuf, B. (New York): “Dreams and their Interpretations as Diagnostic - and Therapeutic Aids in Psychology.” (_The Journal of Abnormal - Psychology_, Feb.-Mar. 1910.) - -Footnote 104: - - Pfister, Oskar (Zürich): _Wahnvorstellung und Schülerselbstmord. Auf - Grund einer Traumanalyse beleuchtet_. (Schweiz. Blätter für - Schulgesundheitspflege, 1909, Nr. 1.) - -Footnote 105: - - Prince, Morton (Boston): “The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams.” - (_The Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, Oct.-Nov. 1910.) - -Footnote 106: - - Rank, Otto (Wien): “Ein Traum, der sich selbst deutet.” (_Jahrbuch für - psychoanalyt. und psychopatholog._ Forschungen, Bd. II., 1910.) - -Footnote 107: - - Rank, Otto (Wien): _Ein Beitrag zum Narzissismus_. (Ebenda, Bd. III., - 1.). - -Footnote 108: - - Rank, Otto (Wien): “Beispiel eines verkappten Ödipustraumes.” - (_Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, I. Jahrg., 1910.) - -Footnote 109: - - Rank, Otto (Wien): _Zum Thema der Zahnreiztraume_. (Ebenda.) - -Footnote 110: - - Rank, Otto (Wien): _Das Verlieren als Symptomhandlung. Zugleich ein - Beitrag zum Verständnis der Beziehungen des Traumlebens zu den - Fehlleistungen des Alltagslebens_. (Ebenda.) - -Footnote 111: - - Robitsek, Alfred (Wien): “Die Analyse von Egmonts Traum.” (_Jahrb. f. - psychoanalyt. u. psychopathol._ Forschungen, Bd. II. 1910.) - -Footnote 112: - - Silberer, Herbert (Wien): “Bericht über eine Methode, gewisse - symbolische Halluzinationserscheinungen hervorzurufen und zu - beobachten.” (_Jahr. Bleuler-Freud_, Bd. I., 1909.) - -Footnote 113: - - Silberer, Herbert (Wien): _Phantasie und Mythos_. (Ebenda, Bd. II., - 1910.) - -Footnote 114: - - Stekel, Wilhelm (Wien): “Beiträge zur Traumdeutung.” (_Jahrbuch für - psychoanalytische und psychopatholog._ Forschungen, Bd. I., 1909.) - -Footnote 115: - - Stekel, Wilhelm (Wien): _Nervöse Angstzustände und ihre Behandlung_. - (Wien und Berlin, 1908.) - -Footnote 116: - - Stekel, Wilhelm (Wien): _Die Sprache des Traumes_. A description of - the symbolism and interpretation of the Dream and its relation to the - normal and abnormal mind for physicians and psychologists. (Wiesbaden, - 1911.) - -Footnote 117: - - Swoboda, Hermann. _Die Perioden des menschlichen Organismus._ (Wien - und Leipzig, 1904.) - -Footnote 118: - - Waterman, George A. (Boston): “Dreams as a Cause of Symptoms.” (_The - Journal of Abnormal Psychol._, Oct.-Nov. 1910.) - - - - - INDEX - - - Abraham, K., 78, 245 - - Absurd dreams, 59, 327, 334–364 - - Absurdity of dreams, 327 - - Acceleration of thought in dreams, 397 - - Accidental stimuli, 185, 186 - - Adler, Alf., 241 - - Affects, flagging of, 457 - - — in the dream, 364–389 - - — inversion of, 375 - - — restraint of, 372 - - — sources of, 382 - - — suppression of, 371, 372, 375 - - — transformation of, 479 - - Agoraphobia, 249, 259 - - Alarm clock dreams, 21, 22, 186 - - Allegorising interpretation of dreams, 48 - - — symbolisms, 81 - - Altruistic impulses, 212 - - Ambiguity of dreams, 125 - - Amnesia, 412, 413 - - Analyses of dreams, 90–102, 116–120, 124–128, 131, 143–146, 155–157, - 160–166, 167–183, 193–196, 201–203, 219–221, 227–230, 232–259, - 264–283, 308, 309, 312, 317, 318, 320–364, 366–376, 378–389, 397, - 398, 460–462 - - — self, 87 - - Analysis of dream life, 33 - - — of psychological formations, 487 - - Anamnesis, 281 - - Anxiety dreams, 27, 28, 74, 114, 136, 137, 199, 200, 226, 231, 245, - 247, 413, 436, 458–464 - - Apparent duration of dreams, 53 - - Arbitrariness in dream interpretation, 190 - - Aristotle, 2, 27 - - Arithmetic speeches in dreams, 322–334 - - Artemidoros of Daldis, 82, 481 - - Artificial dreams, 81 - - Artigues, 27 - - Association dreams, 186 - - Auditory hallucinations, 26 - - — pictures, 41 - - Automatisms, 489 - - - Benedikt, M., 392 - - Benini, V., 37; - quoted, 59 - - Bernard, Claude, 414 - - Binz, C., 63; - quoted, 14, 47 - - Bisexuality, 481 - - Bladder-exciting dreams, 72 - - Bleuler and Freud, 41, 81, 111 - - Bodily stimuli, 185, 193 - - — — symbolisation of, 190 - - Boerner, 28 - - Brandes, G., 225 - - Breuer, J., 83, 470 - - Brill, A. A., 111, 136, 195, 240, 419 - - Bruecke, 325, 357 - - Burdach quoted, 4, 5, 41–43, 65, 68, 188 - - Buzareingues, Giron de, 19 - - - Calkins, Miss Whiton, 15, 16, 36, 186 - - Causality, law of, 42 - - Causal relations, 292, 293 - - Censor of resistance, 287 - - Cerebral anæmia, 463, 464 - - Chabaneix, 36, 53 - - Characteristics of the sleeping state, 466 - - Chemistry of the sexual processes, 276 - - Childish impressions, 323 - - Children’s dreams, 107–112, 155, 438 - - Chronic psychotic persons, 75 - - Cicero quoted, 6, 46 - - Cipher method of interpreting dreams, 82, 83, 87, 245 - - Clark, G. S., 222 - - Claustrophobia, 267 - - Coinage of words in dreams, 279 - - Complications of the human character, 493 - - Compositions in dreams, 300, 301 - - Compression, principle of, 471 - - Compulsion neurosis, 207, 212, 221 - - Compulsive ideas, 83, 283 - - Condensation, principle of, 471 - - — work of the dream, 261, 283, 288, 315, 358, 430, 472 - - Condensing activity of the dream, 277 - - Conflict of psychic forces, 372 - - — of the will, 208, 312 - - Connection between dream content and reality, 7 - - Conscious day phantasies, 393 - - — end-presentations, 421 - - — thought activity in dream formations, 445 - - — wishes, 438, 439 - - Consciousness, problems of, 490 - - Consolation dreams, 232 - - Content of perception, 453, 454 - - Convenience dreams, 105 - - Correspondence between dreams and reality, 157 - - Counter volition, 312 - - — wish dreams, 133, 135 - - Curative activity of the dream, 69 - - - Dattner, B., 254 - - Daudet, A., 268, 392 - - David, J. J., 280 - - Day phantasies, 393, 394 - - Death-wish towards parents, 218 - - Debacker, 114, 463 - - De Biran, Maine, 75 - - Defence-neuropsychoses, 195 - - Degeneration, 212 - - D’Hervey, Marquis, 20, 51 - - Delage, Yves, 152, 467; - quoted, 67, 68 - - Delbœuf, J., 8, 9, 16, 42, 48, 152; - quoted, 15, 43, 88 - - — theory of, 62, 63 - - Deliriums of hunger, 447 - - Delusions, 75, 452 - - Demonomania, 464 - - Demonomaniacal hallucinations, 464 - - Dental irritation, dreams of, 230, 234, 235 - - — stimulus, 191 - - De Sanctis, Sante, 74, 79 - - “Desired” ideas, 85 - - Digestive disturbances and dreams, 28, 185 - - Disagreeable dreams, 112, 135 - - Disfigurement of dreams, 115, 184, 305, 365 - - Disfiguring activity of dreams, 327 - - Displacement in dream formation, 314 - - Displacement of psychic intensities, 402 - - Distortion in dreams, 113–137, 415 - - Disturbing stimuli, 62 - - Divinatory power of the dream, 53 - - Dream activity, 329, 401 - - — affects in the, 364–389 - - — censor, 198, 387, 407, 409 - - — condensation, 261, 283, 286, 288, 315, 358, 430, 472 - - — curative activity of the, 69 - - — digestive disturbances and the, 28, 185 - - — disfigurement, 115, 184, 304, 365 - - — displacement, 150, 286–288 - - — divinatory power of the dream, 53 - - — enigma of the, 365 - - — ethical feelings in the, 54 - - — etiology of the, 53 - - — fear, 136 - - — formation, 185, 198–200, 262, 263, 273, 276, 277, 285, 287, 322, 389, - 390, 400, 429, 450, 465, 481 - - — — displacement in, 314 - - — — laws of the, 23 - - — — mechanism of, 297 - - — — origin of the, 416 - - — — psychic activity in, 401 - - — formation, requirements of, 322 - - — functions of the, 61–73, 458 - - — hallucinations, 42 - - — hypermnesia, 10, 465 - - — images, variegated, 189 - - — interpretation, cipher method of, 82, 83, 87, 245 - - — — method of, 80–102 - - — — problem of, 80 - - — — symbolic, 81 - - — illusions, 24 - - — influence of sexual excitement on the, 28 - - — keystone of the, 415 - - — life, theory of, 46, 78 - - — material of the, 7–16 - - — means of representation in the, 288 - - — memory in the, 7–16, 14, 48, 184 - - — of nerve stimulus, 186 - - — obscurity of the, 1 - - — origin of the, 407 - - — paramnesia in the, 352 - - — peculiarity of the, 45 - - — phantasy, 70–72 - - — phenomena of the, 487 - - — pre-scientific conception of the, 2 - - — problem, present status of the, 1 - - Dream, problems of the, 3 - - — processes, primary, 464–474 - - — — psychology of the, 464 - - — — secondary, 474–479 - - — prophetic power of the, 27 - - — psychic activity in the, 46, 68 - - — — capacities in the, 48 - - — — resources of the, 399 - - — psychological character of the, 52, 423, 431 - - — psychology of the, 416 - - — psychotherapy of the, 75 - - — reactions, 155 - - — regression of the, 431 - - — relation of the, to the waking state, 4–7 - - — riddles of the, 444 - - — scientific theories of the, 80 - - — sources, 16–35 - - — stimuli, 16–35, 139, 155 - - — strangeness of the, 1 - - — sway of the, 11 - - — symbolism, 249 - - — the guardian of sleep, 197 - - — theories, 61–73 - - — thoughts, elements of the, 284, 285 - - — — emotions of the, 375 - - — — logical relations among the, 291 - - — — revealed upon analysis, 159 - - — — structure of, 431 - - — verbal compositions of the, 283 - - — waking caused by the, 452–458 - - — wishes, 429, 437, 438 - - — — transferred, 455 - - — wish-fulfilment of the, 76 - - — within the dream, 313 - - — work, the, 260–402 - - Dreams about fire, 239 - - — absurd, 59, 327, 334–364 - - — acceleration of thought in, 397 - - — alarm clock, 21, 22, 186 - - — ambiguity of, 125 - - — analyses of, 90–102, 116–120, 124–128, 131, 143–146, 155–157, - 160–166, 167–183, 193–196, 201–203, 219–221, 227–230, 232–259, - 264–283, 308, 309, 312, 317, 318, 320–364, 366–376, 378–389, 397, - 398, 460–462 - - — and mental diseases, 73–79 - - — — disturbance, 77 - - — anxiety, 27, 28, 74, 114, 136, 137, 199, 200, 226, 231, 245, 247, - 413, 436, 458–464 - - Dreams, apparent duration of, 53 - - — arithmetic speeches in, 322–334 - - — artificial, 81 - - — as picture puzzles, 261 - - — as psychic products, 51 - - — association, 186 - - — bladder-exciting, 72 - - — children’s dreams, 107–112, 155, 438 - - — composition in, 300, 301 - - — consolation, 232 - - — counter-wish, 133, 135 - - — digestive organs and, 185 - - — disagreeable, 122, 135 - - — disfigurement of, 115, 135 - - — disfiguring activity of, 327 - - — distortion in, 113–137, 415 - - — egotism in, 229 - - — etiology of, 24, 33, 64 - - — examination, 230, 231, 378 - - — exhibition, 207, 267, 311 - - — experimentally produced, 23 - - — forgetting in, 262, 405–421 - - — formation of, 185, 198–200, 262, 263, 273, 277, 285, 287 - - — “fractionary” interpretation of, 414 - - — hallucinatory, 430 - - — harmless, 155, 157 - - — headache, 71, 189 - - — healing properties of, 66 - - — historical significance of, 487 - - — hunger, 113, 241 - - — hypermnesia, 9, 11 - - — hypocritical, 122, 376 - - — illusory formations in, 191 - - — immoral, 59 - - — impression, 232 - - — language of, 104 - - — mantic power of, 3 - - — material of, 138–259 - - — memory of, 38 - - — nerve-exciting, 34 - - — of convenience, 105, 241, 451 - - — of death, 216, 218 - - — of dental irritation, 230, 234, 235 - - — of falling, 239 - - — of fear, 114, 226 - - — of flying, 239 - - — of intestinal excitement, 72 - - — of inversion, 303 - - — of nakedness, 207 - - — of neurotics, 87 - - — of swimming, 239 - - — of the dead, 338 - - — of thirst, 105, 241 - - — of visual stimulation, 191 - - — partition of, 293 - - — parturition, 243–245 - - — perennial, 159 - - — pollution, 310 - - — prophetic power of, 3 - - — psychic source of, 33 - - — psychological investigation in, 405 - - — — peculiarity of, 39, 40 - - — punitive, 378 - - — scientific literature on, 1–79 - - — self-correction in, 411 - - — sexual, 240 - - — — organs and, 185 - - — somatic origin of, 64 - - — sources of, 138–259 - - — supernatural origin of, 3 - - — symbolic interpretation of, 316 - - — symbolism in, 249–259 - - — the fulfilment of wishes, 103–112, 123, 128, 134, 393 - - — theoretical value of the study of, 492 - - — theory of the origin of, 29, 127 - - — the result of egotistical motives, 346 - - — toothache, 189, 190 - - — tooth exciting, 72 - - — transforming activity of, 327 - - — typical, 131–137, 203–259 - - — unburdening properties of, 66 - - — urinary organs and, 185 - - — why forgotten after awakening, 35 - - — wish, 113, 123, 128, 219 - - — wish-fulfilment in, 104 - - — word coinage in, 279–281 - - Dreaming, psychology of, 154 - - Dugas, 454; - quoted, 46, 50 - - Duration of dreams, 53 - - Dyspnœa, 267 - - - Egger, V., 21, 53, 397; - quoted, 38 - - Egotism in dreams, 229 - - — of the infantile mind, 226 - - Elements of dream thoughts, 284, 285 - - Elimination theory, 458 - - Ellis, Havelock, quoted, 14, 50, 467 - - Emotions of the dream thoughts, 375 - - — of the psychic life, 197 - - — theory of the, 371 - - Endogenous psychic affections, 419 - - Endopsychic censor, 416 - - Endoptic phenomena, 414 - - End-presentations, 419, 421, 470 - - Enigma of the dream, 365 - - Enuresis nocturna of children, 240 - - Ephialtes, 2 - - Essence of consciousness, 121 - - Ethical feelings in the dream, 54 - - Etiology of dreams, 24, 33, 53, 64, 132 - - — of neuroses, 281 - - Examination dreams, 230, 231, 378 - - Examination-phobia, 230 - - Excitation of want, 446 - - Excitations, unconscious, 440, 448, 460 - - Exhibitional cravings, 206 - - Exhibition dreams, 207, 267, 311 - - External nerve stimuli, 186 - - — (objective) sensory stimuli, 17–27, 193 - - - Fading of memories, 457 - - Falling in dreams, 239 - - Fancies while asleep, 307 - - Fechner, G. Th., quoted, 39, 40, 46, 424 - - Federn, Dr. Paul, 239 - - _Fensterln_, 170 - - Féré, 75 - - Ferenczi, S., 82, 207 - - _Festschrift_, 264 - - Figaro quoted, 175 - - Fischer, R. P., 55 - - Flagging of affects, 457 - - Fliess, W., 140 - - Fliesse, W., 79 - - Flying in dreams, 239 - - Forbidden wishes, 209 - - Foreconscious wishes, 456 - - Forgetting in dreams, 35–37, 262, 405–421 - - Formation of dreams, 185, 198–200, 262, 263, 273, 276, 277, 285, 287, - 322, 389, 390, 400, 429, 450, 465, 481 - - — of hysterical symptoms, 481, 482 - - — of illusions, 187 - - “Fractionary” interpretation of dreams, 414 - - France, Anatole, quoted, 78 - - Freud, Dr., 236, 237, 256, 279 - - Functions of the dream, 61, 458 - - Furuncles, 194 - - Furunculosis, 185 - - - Garnier, 20 - - Gastric sensations, 30 - - General and specific sensations, 30 - - Goblot quoted, 454 - - Goethe, 486 - - Gregory, 19 - - Griesinger, 76, 113 - - Gruppe, O., quoted, 2 - - _Gschnas_, 183 - - Guislain, 75 - - - Hagen, 75 - - Hallam, Miss Florence, 13, 113 - - Hallucinations, 4, 43, 44, 49, 74, 76, 187, 424, 446 - - — auditory, 26 - - — hypnogogic, 25, 40 - - — ideas transformed into, 41 - - — of hysteria, 432 - - — of paranoia, 432, 433 - - Hallucinatory dreams, 430 - - — paranoia, 77 - - — psychoses, 447 - - — regression, 448 - - Harmless dreams, 155, 157 - - Hartman, Edward von, 113 - - Hauffbauer, 18 - - Headache dreams, 71, 189 - - Healing properties of dreams, 66 - - Helmholtz, 486 - - Herbart quoted, 63 - - Hildebrandt, F. W., 53, 55, 59, 60, 138; - quoted, 6, 7, 11, 13, 15, 20, 21, 47, 51, 57, 58 - - Hilferding, Mrs. M., 376 - - Historical significance of dreams, 487 - - Hohnbaum, 74 - - Homer, 208 - - Homosexuality, 233, 248, 304 - - Human character, complication of, 493 - - Hunger dreams, 113 - - Hypermnesia of the dream, 465 - - Hypermnesic dreams, 9, 11 - - Hypnogogic hallucinations, 25, 40 - - — sensory images, 185 - - Hypocritical dreams, 122, 376 - - Hysteria, 283, 418 - - — hallucinations of, 432 - - — study of, 456 - - — theory of, 473 - - Hysterical counter-reaction, 220 - - — identification, 126, 127 - - — imitation, 126 - - — paralysis, theory for, 444 - - — phantasy, 127 - - — phobias, 83, 220, 486 - - Hysterical symptoms, theory of, 449 - - — — formation of, 481, 482, 487 - - — vomiting, 449 - - - “Ideal” masochists, 134 - - Ideas, concatenation of, 295 - - — “desired” 85 - - — transformation of, 424 - - — transformed into hallucinations, 41 - - — “undesired,” 85 - - Ideation, unconscious, 459 - - Illusions, 24, 49, 76 - - — formation of, 23, 187 - - Illusory formations in dreams, 191 - - Imaginations, 43 - - Immoral dreams, 59 - - Impression dreams, 139, 232 - - Incest, 248 - - Incomprehensible neologisms, 247 - - Independent psychic activity in the dream, 68 - - Individual dream images, 306 - - — psychology, 13 - - Infantile psychology, 211, 221 - - — etiology of the neuroses, 373 - - — experiences as the source of dreams, 157–184 - - — phantasies, 407 - - — reminiscences, 12, 13 - - Influence of sexual excitement on the dream, 28 - - Inner nerve stimuli, 66, 198 - - — sensory stimuli, 66 - - Insomnia, 2 - - Intensive objective stimulation, 193 - - Intermediary presentations, 472 - - — thoughts, 417 - - Internal bodily stimulation, 185 - - — (subjective) sensory stimuli, 24 - - Interpretation of pathological ideas, 85 - - Intestinal excitement dreams, 72 - - Inversion of affects, 375 - - Irma’s dream, 88–90 - - — — analysis of, 90–102 - - - Jensen, W., 81 - - Jessen quoted, 5, 9, 18, 38, 54, 60 - - Jodl, 48 - - Jones, Dr., 229 - - Josephus quoted, 309 - - Jung, C. G., 78, 234, 309, 419, 421 - - - Kant, 58; - quoted, 75 - - Keller, G., quoted, 208 - - Keys to voluntary mobility, 429 - - Keystone of the dream, 415 - - Kleinpaul, 246 - - Koenigstein, Dr., 264 - - Koerner, 85 - - _Kontuszówka_, 10 - - Krauss, A., 30, 77; - quoted, 75 - - - Ladd, T., 26, 27, 466 - - Language of dreams, 104 - - Lasalle, 280 - - Lasker, 280 - - Latent dream content, 114, 138, 157, 167, 171, 173, 206, 228, 240, 260, - 352 - - Law of causality, 42 - - Laws of Association, 49 - - — of the dream formation, 23 - - Legend of King Oedipus, 222–224 - - — of Nausikaa, 208, 209 - - Le Lorrain, 21, 53, 397, 447 - - Lelut, 75 - - Lemoine, 46 - - Leuret, theory of, 419 - - Liébault, A., 450 - - Lipps, Th., 485, 486; - quoted, 188 - - Literature on dreams, 1–97 - - Logical relations among the dream thoughts, 291 - - Lucretius quoted, 5 - - Lynkus, 79 - - - Macnish quoted, 19 - - Maeder, A., 246 - - Manifestations of pain, 453 - - Manifest dream content, 114, 138, 159, 166, 173, 181, 240, 243 - - Manifold determination of the dream content, 285 - - Mantic power of dreams, 3 - - Masochistic wish-dreams, 135 - - Material of the dream, 7–16, 138–259 - - Maury, A., 19–21, 25, 28, 49, 53, 64, 74, 75, 158, 396, 397, 420, 454; - quoted, 5, 9, 12, 46, 51, 60, 61 - - Means of representation in the dream, 288 - - Mechanism of dream formation, 297 - - — of psychoneuroses, 172 - - Medical theory of dream life, 77 - - Meier, 18 - - Memory, fading, 457 - - — in the dream, 7–16, 38, 48 - - — traces, 426, 430, 446 - - Mental diseases, relations between dreams and, 73–79 - - Mental disturbance and dreams, 77 - - — stimuli, 34 - - Method of dream interpretation, 80–102, 203 - - Meyer, C. F., 374 - - Meynert, 187, 212 - - Misunderstanding of the dream content, 205 - - Moral nature of man, 55 - - Moreau, J., 75 - - Motor impulses, 220 - - — paralysis in sleep, 311, 312 - - — stimuli, 189 - - Müller, J., 25 - - Muscular sensations, 30 - - Muthmann, 78 - - Myers, 9 - - - Näcke, 240 - - Names and syllables, play on, 280, 281 - - Nelson, J., 13 - - Nerve-exciting dreams, 34 - - Nerve stimuli, 185, 186, 196 - - Nervous excitements, 306 - - Neuron excitement, 428 - - Neuropathology, 481 - - Neuropsychology, 489 - - Neuroses, 315 - - — etiology of, 281 - - — infantile etiology of the, 373 - - — psychoanalysis of the, 438 - - — psychological explanation of the, 385 - - — — investigation of the, 439 - - — psychology of the, 443, 460 - - — psychotherapy of the, 439 - - — study of the, 456 - - Neuroses, theory of the, 374 - - Neurotic fear, 136 - - Neurotics, psychoanalysis of, 420 - - Nightmare, 2 - - Night terrors, 462, 463 - - Nocturnal excitations, 440 - - — sensations, 155 - - Nordenskjold, O., 111 - - Novalis quoted, 69 - - - Objective external excitements, 197 - - Objective sensory stimuli, 17–24, 185, 186, 451, 465 - - Obscurity of the dream, 1 - - Obsessions, 315, 452 - - Obsessive impulses, 75 - - Oppenheim, Prof. E., 493 - - Organic sensory stimuli, 71 - - Origin of the dream, 407, 416 - - Origin of dreams, theory of the, 29 - - — of hysterical symptoms, 449 - - — of the psychoses, 29 - - Outer nerve stimuli, 180, 198 - - — sensory stimuli, 66 - - - Painful stimuli, 189, 194, 453 - - Paramnesia in the dream, 352 - - Paranoia, 63, 206, 207, 418 - - — hallucinatory, 77, 432, 433 - - Partition of dreams, 293 - - Parturition dreams, 243–245 - - Pathological cases of regression, 435 - - Pavor nocturnus, 462, 463 - - Peculiarities of the dream, 45 - - Penetration into consciousness, 484 - - Perception content, 453 - - — identity, 477 - - — stimuli, 426 - - Peripheral sensations, 30 - - Perennial dreams, 159 - - Perversion, 248 - - Peterson, F., 419 - - Pfaff, E. R., quoted, 55 - - Pfister, O., 245 - - Phantasies, infantile, 407 - - Phantastic ganglia cells, 73 - - — illusions, 187 - - — visual manifestations, 25 - - Phantasy combinations, 43 - - — of being arrested, 395 - - — of marriage, 395 - - Phenomena of the dream, 487 - - Phobias, 315 - - Physical sensations, 30 - - — stimuli, 71, 77, 187 - - Pilcz, 15 - - Plasticity of the psychic material, 246 - - Plato, 493 - - Pleasure stimulus, 453 - - Pneumatic sensations, 30 - - Pollution dreams, 310 - - Pre-scientific conception of the dream, 2 - - Presentation content, 210, 365, 367, 389, 424 - - Present status of the dream problem, 1 - - Pressure stimulus, 188 - - Primary psychic process, 152 - - Prince, Morton, 412 - - Problems of consciousness, 490 - - — of dream interpretation, 80 - - — of repression, 479 - - — of sleep, 4 - - Problems of the dream, 3, 260 - - Prophetic power of dreams, 3, 27 - - Psi-systems, 425, 428, 431, 453, 475 - - Psychic activity in the dream, 46, 62, 401 - - — apparatus, 426–428, 430, 431, 437, 445, 482, 483; - diagrams of, 426, 427, 429 - - — capacity of the dream, 48, 52, 53 - - — censor, 422 - - — complexes, 365 - - — condition of dream formation, 263 - - — dream stimuli, 33 - - — emotions, 445 - - — exciting sources, 33–35 - - — function in dream formation, 391 - - — impulses, 221 - - — infection, 126 - - — intensity, 285 - - — repression, 476 - - — resources of the, 399 - - — sensory organs, 490 - - — source of dreams, 33 - - — state of sleep, 468 - - — stimuli, 34 - - — symptomology, 187 - - Psychoanalysis, 84, 209, 235, 236, 366, 469, 413 - - — of adult neurotics, 219 - - — of neurotics, 87, 154, 420 - - — of the neuroses, 438 - - Psychoanalytic investigations, 9 - - — method of treatment, 78, 491 - - Psychological character of the dream, 52, 423, 431 - - — explanation of the neuroses, 385 - - — formations, 471 - - — — analysis of, 487 - - — investigation in dreams, 405, 422 - - — — of the neuroses, 439 - - — peculiarity of dreams, 39, 40 - - Psychology of children, 107 - - — of dream activities, 403–493 - - — of dreaming, 154 - - — of the dream, 416, 464 - - — of the neuroses, 87, 433, 460 - - — of the psychoneuroses, 433 - - — of the sleeping state, 184 - - — of the unconscious, 385 - - Psychoneuroses, 87, 127, 199, 283, 318, 365, 393, 480, 492 - - — mechanism of the, 172 - - — psychology of the, 433 - - — sexual etiology for, 347 - - Psychoneurotic symptom formations, 481 - - Psychoneurotic symptoms, 473 - - Psychoneurotics, 221, 223 - - Psychopathology, 4, 121 - - — of the dream, 75 - - Psychoses, origin of the, 29 - - Psychosexual excitements, 200 - - Psychotherapy, 457 - - — of the neuroses, 439 - - Punitive dreams, 378 - - Purkinje quoted, 69 - - Purpose served by condensation, 277 - - Purposeful nature of dream-forgetting, 410 - - - Radestock, P., 20, 28, 37, 38, 48, 74, 113; - quoted, 5, 46, 54, 59, 76, 77 - - Rank, O., 78, 85, 242, 379; - quoted, 136 - - Regard for presentability, 313–322 - - Regression, 422–435 - - — of the dream, 431 - - Relation between dream content and dream stimuli, 187 - - — between dreams and mental diseases, 73–79 - - — between dreams and the psychoses, 74 - - — of sexuality to cruelty, 284 - - — of the dream to the waking state, 4–7, 138 - - Repressed wishes, 199 - - Repression, 478, 479, 484 - - Requirements of dream formation, 322 - - Restraint of affects, 372 - - Riddles of the dream, 33, 34, 444 - - Riklin, 78 - - Robert, W., 13, 138, 139, 467; - quoted, 65, 66 - - — elimination theory of, 458 - - Robitsek, Dr. R., 81, 82 - - Rosegger quoted, 376, 377, 378 - - - _Salzstangeln_, 183 - - Scaliger’s dream, 9 - - Scherner, R. A., 30, 31, 33, 69–71, 80, 189–191, 310, 434, 467, 486 - - Scherner’s method of dream interpretation, 319 - - Schelling, school of, 3 - - Schiller, Fr., quoted, 85, 86, 361 - - Schleiermacher, Fr., 40, 59, 85 - - Scholz, Fr., 48, 112; - quoted, 15, 55 - - Schopenhauer, 29, 54, 75 - - Scientific literature on dreams, 1–79 - - — theories of the dream, 80 - - Secondary elaboration, 355, 389–402, 454, 461 - - Self-analyses, 87, 380 - - Self-correction in dreams, 411 - - Sensational intensity, 285 - - Sensations, gastric, 30 - - — muscular, 30 - - — nocturnal, 155 - - — of falling, 466 - - — of flying, 466 - - — of impeded movement, 311 - - — peripheral, 30 - - — physical, 30 - - — pneumatic, 30 - - — sexual, 30 - - Senseful psychological structures, 1 - - Sensory images, 186 - - — — hypnogogic, 185 - - — intensity, 306 - - — organs, psychic, 491 - - — stimuli, 17–27, 187, 189, 454 - - — — (objective), 185 - - — — (organic), 71 - - — — (outer and inner), 66 - - — — (subjective), 185 - - Sexual anamnesis, 281 - - — dreams, 240 - - — etiology, 281 - - — — for psychoneuroses, 347 - - — organs and dreams, 185 - - — sensations, 30 - - — symbolism, 319 - - — symbols, 246, 248 - - — wish feelings, 480 - - Shakespeare quoted, 333 - - Siebeck, A., quoted, 48 - - Silberer, H., 41 - - Simon, B. M., 24, 27, 28, 31, 32, 112 - - Sleep, problems of, 4 - - — psychic state of, 468 - - Sources of affects, 382 - - — of dreams, 138–259 - - Somatic dream stimuli, 33 - - — exciting sources, 53 - - — origin of dreams, 64 - - — sources of dreams, 184 - - — theory of stimulation, 185 - - Spitta, W., 28, 41, 47, 50, 55, 75, 406; - quoted, 39, 46, 48, 58 - - Stekel, W., 78, 232, 241, 248, 251, 298, 313 - - — accidental stimuli, 185, 186 - - Stimuli of dreams, 16–35 - - — of perception, 426 - - — pain, 453 - - — physical, 71, 77 - - Stimuli, pleasure, 453 - - — psychic, 34 - - Strangeness of the dream, 1 - - Stricker, 364; - quoted, 48, 61 - - Structure of dream thoughts, 431 - - Strümpell, L., 16, 31, 36, 42, 47, 138, 154, 186, 188, 191; - quoted, 4, 5, 11, 14, 23, 27, 37, 45, 49 - - Study of the neuroses, 456 - - Stumpf, E. J. G., 81 - - Subjective sensory stimuli, 24–27, 185 - - Supernatural dream content, 466 - - — origin of dreams, 3 - - Suppressed wishes, 199, 209 - - Suppression of the affects, 371, 372, 375 - - Sway of the dream, 11 - - Swimming in dreams, 239 - - Swoboda, H., 79, 140–142 - - Symbolic concealment, 310 - - — dream formations, 310 - - — — interpretation, 81, 316 - - — methods of interpreting dreams, 83 - - Symbolisation of bodily stimuli, 190 - - — of the body, 319 - - Symbolism in dreams, application of, 249–259 - - — sexual, 319 - - Symbols in the dream content, 246 - - — sexual, 246, 248 - - Synthesis of syllables, 278 - - - Tabetic paralysis, 282 - - Tactile stimulus, 188 - - “Tannhauser,” quotation from, 272 - - Taylor, B., 269 - - Temporal relations of life, 346 - - Theoretical value of the study of dreams, 492 - - Theories of the dream, 61–73 - - Theory of dream life, 46 - - — of dreams, 127 - - — of hysteria, 473 - - — of hysterical paralysis, 444 - - — of Leuret, 419 - - — of organic stimulation, 310 - - — of partial waking, 24 - - — of psychoneurotic symptoms, 449 - - — of somatic stimuli, 188 - - — of the psychoneuroses, 480 - - — of wish-fulfilment, 374, 376, 435, 458 - - — of the emotions, 371 - - Theory of the neuroses, 374 - - Thirst dreams, 105 - - Thomayer, 74 - - Thought identity, 477 - - Tissié, Ph., 28, 29, 38, 74, 113; - quoted, 27, 34 - - Toothache dreams, 189, 190 - - Tooth-exciting dreams, 72 - - Trains of thought revealed by analysis, 263 - - Transferred dream-wishes, 455 - - Transformation of affects, 479 - - — of ideas, 424 - - Transforming activity of dreams, 327 - - — ideas into plastic images, 435 - - Transvaluation of psychic values, 306, 402, 409 - - Trenck, Baron, 113 - - Typical dreams, 31, 131, 203–259 - - - Unburdening properties of dreams, 66 - - Unconscious end-presentations, 418 - - — excitations, 440, 448, 460 - - — ideation, 459 - - — phantasies, 486 - - — psychic life, 220 - - — — process, 485 - - — wishes, 438, 443, 457, 479–493 - - “Undesired” ideas, 85 - - Undesirable presentations, 59, 60, 414 - - Unmoral period of childhood, 212 - - Unwished-for presentations, 418 - - Urinary organs and dreams, 185 - - - Variegated dream images, 189 - - Verbal compositions of the dream, 283 - - Visceral sensations, 191 - - Visions, 4, 424 - - Visual excitation, 434 - - — pictures, 41 - - Vold, J. Mourly, 32 - - Volition, 312 - - Volkelt, J., 30, 71, 113, 189, 191, 319; - quoted, 11, 20, 34, 49, 54, 59, 69, 70, 72, 190 - - - Waking caused by the dream, 452–458 - - “Weaver’s Masterpiece,” quotation from, 265 - - Weed, Sarah, 113 - - Weed-Hallam, 138 - - Weygandt, W., 5, 20, 28, 34, 49; - quoted, 105 - - Why dreams are forgotten, 35 - - Winckler, Hugo, 82 - - Wish-dreams, 113, 123, 128, 219 - - — — masochistic, 135 - - Wishes, forbidden, 209 - - — foreconscious, 456 - - — repressed, 199 - - — suppressed, 199, 209 - - — unconscious, 438, 443, 457, 479, 493 - - Wish-fulfilment of the dream, 76, 104, 205, 229, 233, 389, 423, 435–452 - - — theory of, 374, 376, 458 - - Word-play and dream activity, 315 - - Work of displacement, 283–288 - - Wundt, 23, 34, 48, 49, 71, 187, 188; - quoted, 75 - - — theory of, 198 - - - Zola, E., 182 - ------ - -Footnote A: - - Translated by A. A. Brill (_Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease_ - Publishing Company). - -Footnote B: - - _Cf._ the works of Ernest Jones, James J. Putnam, the present writer, - and others. - -Footnote C: - - For examples demonstrating these facts, _cf._ my work, - _Psychoanalysis; its Theories and Practical Application_, W. B. - Saunders’ Publishing Company, Philadelphia & London. - -Footnote D: - - To the first publication of this book, 1900. - -Footnote E: - - Compare, on the other hand, O. Gruppe, _Griechische Mythologie und - Religionsgeschichte_, p. 390. “Dreams were divided into two classes; - the first were influenced only by the present (or past), and were - unimportant for the future: they embraced the ἐνύπνια, insomnia, which - immediately produces the given idea or its opposite, _e.g._ hunger or - its satiation, and the φαντάσματα, which elaborates the given idea - phantastically, as _e.g._ the nightmare, ephialtes. The second class - was, on the other hand, determinant for the future. To this belong: - (1) direct prophecies received in the dream (χρηματισμός, oraculum); - (2) the foretelling of a future event (ὅραμα); (3) the symbolic or the - dream requiring interpretation (ὄνειρος, somnium). This theory has - been preserved for many centuries.” - -Footnote F: - - From subsequent experience I am able to state that it is not at all - rare to find in dreams repetitions of harmless or unimportant - occupations of the waking state, such as packing trunks, preparing - food, work in the kitchen, &c., but in such dreams the dreamer himself - emphasizes not the character but the reality of the memory, “I have - really done all this in the day time.” - -Footnote G: - - _Chauffeurs_ were bands of robbers in the Vendée who resorted to this - form of torture. - -Footnote H: - - Gigantic persons in a dream justify the assumption that it deals with - a scene from the dreamer’s childhood. - -Footnote I: - - The first volume of this Norwegian author, containing a complete - description of dreams, has recently appeared in German. See Index of - Literature, No. [74a]. - -Footnote J: - - Periodically recurrent dreams have been observed repeatedly. _Cf._ the - collection of Chabaneix.[11] - -Footnote K: - - Silberer has shown by nice examples how in the state of sleepiness - even abstract thoughts may be changed into illustrative plastic - pictures which express the same thing (_Jahrbuch_ von Bleuler-Freud, - vol. i. 1900). - -Footnote L: - - Haffner[32] made an attempt similar to Delbœuf’s to explain the dream - activity on the basis of an alteration which must result in an - introduction of an abnormal condition in the otherwise correct - function of the intact psychic apparatus, but he described this - condition in somewhat different words. He states that the first - distinguishing mark of the dream is the absence of time and space, - _i.e._ the emancipation of the presentation from the position in the - order of time and space which is common to the individual. Allied to - this is the second fundamental character of the dream, the mistaking - of the hallucinations, imaginations, and phantasy-combinations for - objective perceptions. The sum total of the higher psychic forces, - especially formation of ideas, judgment, and argumentation on the one - hand, and the free self-determination on the other hand, connect - themselves with the sensory phantasy pictures and at all times have - them as a substratum. These activities too, therefore, participate in - the irregularity of the dream presentation. We say they participate, - for our faculties of judgment and will power are in themselves in no - way altered during sleep. In reference to activity, we are just as - keen and just as free as in the waking state. A man cannot act - contrary to the laws of thought, even in the dream, _i.e._ he is - unable to harmonise with that which represents itself as contrary to - him, &c.; he can only desire in the dream that which he presents to - himself as good (_sub ratione boni_). But in this application of the - laws of thinking and willing the human mind is led astray in the dream - through mistaking one presentation for another. It thus happens that - we form and commit in the dream the greatest contradictions, while, on - the other hand, we display the keenest judgments and the most - consequential chains of reasoning, and can make the most virtuous and - sacred resolutions. Lack of orientation is the whole secret of the - flight by which our phantasy moves in the dream, and lack of critical - reflection and mutual understanding with others is the main source of - the reckless extravagances of our judgments, hopes, and wishes in the - dream (p. 18). - -Footnote M: - - _Cf._ Haffner[32] and Spitta[64]. - -Footnote N: - - _Grundzüge des Systems der Anthropologie._ Erlangen, 1850 (quoted by - Spitta). - -Footnote O: - - _Das Traumleben und seine Deutung_, 1868 (cited by Spitta, p. 192). - -Footnote P: - - H. Swoboda, _Die Perioden des Menschlichen Organismus_, 1904. - -Footnote Q: - - In a novel, _Gradiva_, of the poet W. Jensen, I accidentally - discovered several artificial dreams which were formed with perfect - correctness and which could be interpreted as though they had not been - invented, but had been dreamt by actual persons. The poet declared, - upon my inquiry, that he was unacquainted with my theory of dreams. I - have made use of this correspondence between my investigation and the - creative work of the poet as a proof of the correctness of my method - of dream analysis (“Der Wahn und die Träume,” in W. Jensen’s - _Gradiva_, No. 1 of the _Schriften zur angewandten Seelenkunde_, 1906, - edited by me). Dr. Alfred Robitsek has since shown that the dream of - the hero in Goethe’s _Egmont_ may be interpreted as correctly as an - actually experienced dream (“Die Analyse von Egmont’s Träume,” - _Jahrbuch_, edited by Bleuler-Freud, vol. ii., 1910.) - -Footnote R: - - After the completion of my manuscript, a paper by Stumpf[65] came to - my notice which agrees with my work in attempting to prove that the - dream is full of meaning and capable of interpretation. But the - interpretation is undertaken by means of an allegorising symbolism, - without warrant for the universal applicability of the procedure. - -Footnote S: - - Dr. Alfred Robitsek calls my attention to the fact that Oriental dream - books, of which ours are pitiful plagiarisms, undertake the - interpretation of dream elements, mostly according to the assonance - and similarity of the words. Since these relationships must be lost by - translation into our language, the incomprehensibility of the - substitutions in our popular “dream books” may have its origin in this - fact. Information as to the extraordinary significance of puns and - punning in ancient Oriental systems of culture may be found in the - writings of Hugo Winckler. The nicest example of a dream - interpretation which has come down to us from antiquity is based on a - play upon words. Artemidoros[2] relates the following (p. 225): “It - seems to me that Aristandros gives a happy interpretation to Alexander - of Macedon. When the latter held Tyros shut in and in a state of - siege, and was angry and depressed over the great loss of time, he - dreamed that he saw a Satyros dancing on his shield. It happened that - Aristandros was near Tyros and in the convoy of the king, who was - waging war on the Syrians. By disjoining the word Satyros into σα and - τύρος, he induced the king to become more aggressive in the siege, and - thus he became master of the city. (Σα τύρος—thine is Tyros.) The - dream, indeed, is so intimately connected with verbal expression that - Ferenczi[87] may justly remark that every tongue has its own dream - language. Dreams are, as a rule, not translatable into other - languages.” - -Footnote T: - - Breuer and Freud, _Studien über Hysterie_, Vienna, 1895; 2nd ed. 1909. - -Footnote U: - - The complaint, as yet unexplained, of pains in the abdomen, may also - be referred to this third person. It is my own wife, of course, who is - in question; the abdominal pains remind me of one of the occasions - upon which her shyness became evident to me. I must myself admit that - I do not treat Irma and my wife very gallantly in this dream, but let - it be said for my excuse that I am judging both of them by the - standard of the courageous, docile, female patient. - -Footnote V: - - I suspect that the interpretation of this portion has not been carried - far enough to follow every hidden meaning. If I were to continue the - comparison of the three women, I would go far afield. Every dream has - at least one point at which it is unfathomable, a central point, as it - were, connecting it with the unknown. - -Footnote W: - - “Ananas,” moreover, has a remarkable assonance to the family name of - my patient Irma. - -Footnote X: - - In this the dream did not turn out to be prophetic. But in another - sense, it proved correct, for the “unsolved” stomach pains, for which - I did not want to be to blame, were the forerunners of a serious - illness caused by gall stones. - -Footnote Y: - - Even if I have not, as may be understood, given account of everything - which occurred to me in connection with the work of interpretation. - -Footnote Z: - - The facts about dreams of thirst were known also to Weygandt,[75] who - expresses himself about them (p. 11) as follows: “It is just the - sensation of thirst which is most accurately registered of all; it - always causes a representation of thirst quenching. The manner in - which the dream pictures the act of thirst quenching is manifold, and - is especially apt to be formed according to a recent reminiscence. - Here also a universal phenomenon is that disappointment in the slight - efficacy of the supposed refreshments sets in immediately after the - idea that thirst has been quenched.” But he overlooks the fact that - the reaction of the dream to the stimulus is universal. If other - persons who are troubled by thirst at night awake without dreaming - beforehand, this does not constitute an objection to my experiment, - but characterises those others as persons who sleep poorly. - -Footnote AA: - - The dream afterwards accomplished the same purpose in the case of the - grandmother, who is older than the child by about seventy years, as it - did in the case of the granddaughter. After she had been forced to go - hungry for several days on account of the restlessness of her floating - kidney, she dreamed, apparently with a transference into the happy - time of her flowering maidenhood, that she had been “asked out,” - invited as a guest for both the important meals, and each time had - been served with the most delicious morsels. - -Footnote AB: - - A more searching investigation into the psychic life of the child - teaches us, to be sure, that sexual motive powers in infantile forms, - which have been too long overlooked, play a sufficiently great part in - the psychic activity of the child. This raises some doubt as to the - happiness of the child, as imagined later by the adults. _Cf._ the - author’s “Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory,” translated by A. - A. Brill, _Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases_ Publishing Company. - -Footnote AC: - - It should not be left unmentioned that children sometimes show complex - and more obscure dreams, while, on the other hand, adults will often - under certain conditions show dreams of an infantile character. How - rich in unsuspected material the dreams of children of from four to - five years might be is shown by examples in my “Analyse der Phobie - eines fünfjährigen Knaben” (_Jahrbuch_, ed. by Bleuler & Freud, 1909), - and in Jung’s “Ueber Konflikte der kindlichen Seele” (ebda. ii. vol., - 1910). On the other hand, it seems that dreams of an infantile type - reappear especially often in adults if they are transferred to unusual - conditions of life. Thus Otto Nordenskjold, in his book _Antarctic_ - (1904), writes as follows about the crew who passed the winter with - him. “Very characteristic for the trend of our inmost thoughts were - our dreams, which were never more vivid and numerous than at present. - Even those of our comrades with whom dreaming had formerly been an - exception had long stories to tell in the morning when we exchanged - our experiences in the world of phantasies. They all referred to that - outer world which was now so far from us, but they often fitted into - our present relations. An especially characteristic dream was the one - in which one of our comrades believed himself back on the bench at - school, where the task was assigned him of skinning miniature seals - which were especially made for the purposes of instruction. Eating and - drinking formed the central point around which most of our dreams were - grouped. One of us, who was fond of going to big dinner parties at - night, was exceedingly glad if he could report in the morning ‘that he - had had a dinner consisting of three courses.’ Another dreamed of - tobacco—of whole mountains of tobacco; still another dreamed of a ship - approaching on the open sea under full sail. Still another dream - deserves to be mentioned. The letter carrier brought the mail, and - gave a long explanation of why he had had to wait so long for it; he - had delivered it at the wrong place, and only after great effort had - been able to get it back. To be sure, we occupied ourselves in sleep - with still more impossible things, but the lack of phantasy in almost - all the dreams which I myself dreamed or heard others relate was quite - striking. It would surely have been of great psychological interest if - all the dreams could have been noted. But one can readily understand - how we longed for sleep. It alone could afford us everything that we - all most ardently desired.” - -Footnote AD: - - A Hungarian proverb referred to by Ferenczi[87] states more explicitly - that “the pig dreams of acorns, the goose of maize.” - -Footnote AE: - - It is quite incredible with what stubbornness readers and critics - exclude this consideration, and leave unheeded the fundamental - differentiation between the manifest and the latent dream content. - -Footnote AF: - - It is remarkable how my memory narrows here for the purposes of - analysis—while I am awake. I have known five of my uncles, and have - loved and honoured one of them. But at the moment when I overcame my - resistance to the interpretation of the dream I said to myself, “I - have only one uncle, the one who is intended in the dream.” - -Footnote AG: - - The word is here used in the original Latin sense _instantia_, meaning - energy, continuance or persistence in doing. (Translator.) - -Footnote AH: - - Such hypocritical dreams are not unusual occurrences with me or with - others. While I am working up a certain scientific problem, I am - visited for many nights in rapid succession by a somewhat confusing - dream which has as its content reconciliation with a friend long ago - dropped. After three or four attempts, I finally succeeded in grasping - the meaning of this dream. It was in the nature of an encouragement to - give up the little consideration still left for the person in - question, to drop him completely, but it disguised itself shamefacedly - in the opposite feeling. I have reported a “hypocritical Oedipus - dream” of a person, in which the hostile feelings and the wishes of - death of the dream thoughts were replaced by manifest tenderness. - (“Typisches Beispiel eines verkappten Oedipustraumes,” _Zentralblatt - für Psychoanalyse_, Bd. 1, Heft 1–11, 1910.) Another class of - hypocritical dreams will be reported in another place. - -Footnote AI: - - To sit for the painter. Goethe: “And if he has no backside, how can - the nobleman sit?” - -Footnote AJ: - - I myself regret the introduction of such passages from the - psychopathology of hysteria, which, because of their fragmentary - representation and of being torn from all connection with the subject, - cannot have a very enlightening influence. If these passages are - capable of throwing light upon the intimate relations between the - dream and the psychoneuroses, they have served the purpose for which I - have taken them up. - -Footnote AK: - - Something like the smoked salmon in the dream of the deferred supper. - -Footnote AL: - - It often happens that a dream is told incompletely, and that a - recollection of the omitted portions appears only in the course of the - analysis. These portions subsequently fitted in, regularly furnish the - key to the interpretation. _Cf._ below, about forgetting in dreams. - -Footnote AM: - - Similar “counter wish-dreams” have been repeatedly reported to me - within the last few years by my pupils who thus reacted to their first - encounter with the “wish theory of the dream.” - -Footnote AN: - - We may mention here the simplification and modification of this - fundamental formula, propounded by Otto Rank: “On the basis and with - the help of repressed infantile sexual material, the dream regularly - represents as fulfilled actual, and as a rule also erotic, wishes, in - a disguised and symbolic form.” (“Ein Traum, der sich selbst deutet,” - _Jahrbuch_, v., Bleuler-Freud, II. B., p. 519, 1910.) - -Footnote AO: - - See _Selected Papers on Hysteria and other Psychoneuroses_, p. 133, - translated by A. A. Brill, _Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases_, - Monograph Series. - -Footnote AP: - - It is clear that the conception of Robert, that the dream is intended - to rid our memory of the useless impressions which it has received - during the day, is no longer tenable, if indifferent memories of - childhood appear in the dream with some degree of frequency. The - conclusion would have to be drawn that the dream ordinarily performs - very inadequately the duty which is prescribed for it. - -Footnote AQ: - - As mentioned in the first chapter, p. 67, H. Swoboda applies broadly - to the psychic activity, the biological intervals of twenty-three and - twenty-eight days discovered by W. Fliess, and lays especial emphasis - upon the fact that these periods are determinant for the appearance of - the dream elements in dreams. There would be no material change in - dream interpretation if this could be proven, but it would result in a - new source for the origin of the dream material. I have recently - undertaken some examination of my own dreams in order to test the - applicability of the “Period Theory” to the dream material, and I have - selected for this purpose especially striking elements of the dream - content, whose origin could be definitely ascertained:— - - - I.—_Dream from October 1–2, 1910_ - - (Fragment).... Somewhere in Italy. Three daughters show me small - costly objects, as if in an antiquity shop. At the same time they sit - down on my lap. Of one of the pieces I remark: “Why, you got this from - me.” I also see distinctly a small profile mask with the angular - features of Savonarola. - - When have I last seen a picture of Savonarola? According to my - travelling diary, I was in Florence on the fourth and fifth of - September, and while there thought of showing my travelling companion - the plaster medallion of the features of the fanatical monk in the - Piazza Signoria, the same place where he met his death by burning. I - believe that I called his attention to it at 3 A.M. To be sure, from - this impression, until its return in the dream, there was an interval - of twenty-seven and one days—a “feminine period,” according to Fliess. - But, unfortunately for the demonstrative force of this example, I must - add that on the very day of the dream I was visited (the first time - after my return) by the able but melancholy-looking colleague whom I - had already years before nicknamed “Rabbi Savonarola.” He brought me a - patient who had met with an accident on the Pottebba railroad, on - which I had myself travelled eight days before, and my thoughts were - thus turned to my last Italian journey. The appearance in the dream - content of the striking element of Savonarola is explained by the - visit of my colleague on the day of the dream; the twenty-eight day - interval had no significance in its origin. - - - II.—_Dream from October 10–11_ - - I am again studying chemistry in the University laboratory. Court - Councillor L. invites me to come to another place, and walks before me - in the corridor carrying in front of him in his uplifted hand a lamp - or some other instrument, and assuming a peculiar attitude, his head - stretched forward. We then come to an open space ... (rest forgotten). - - In this dream content, the most striking part is the manner in which - Court Councillor L. carries the lamp (or lupe) in front of him, his - gaze directed into the distance. I have not seen L. for many years, - but I now know that he is only a substitute for another greater - person—for Archimedes near the Arethusa fountain in Syracuse, who - stands there exactly like L. in the dream, holding the burning mirror - and gazing at the besieging army of the Romans. When had I first (and - last) seen this monument? According to my notes, it was on the - seventeenth day of September, in the evening, and from this date to - the dream there really passed 13 and 10, equals 23, days-according to - Fliess, a “masculine period.” - - But I regret to say that here, too, this connection seems somewhat - less inevitable when we enter into the interpretation of this dream. - The dream was occasioned by the information, received on the day of - the dream, that the lecture-room in the clinic in which I was invited - to deliver my lectures had been changed to some other place. I took it - for granted that the new room was very inconveniently situated, and - said to myself, it is as bad as not having any lecture-room at my - disposal. My thoughts must have then taken me back to the time when I - first became a docent, when I really had no lecture-room, and when, in - my efforts to get one, I met with little encouragement from the very - influential gentlemen councillors and professors. In my distress at - that time, I appealed to L., who then had the title of dean, and whom - I considered kindly disposed. He promised to help me, but that was all - I ever heard from him. In the dream he is the Archimedes, who gives me - the πήστω and leads me into the other room. That neither the desire - for revenge nor the consciousness of one’s own importance is absent in - this dream will be readily divined by those familiar with dream - interpretation. I must conclude, however, that without this motive for - the dream, Archimedes would hardly have got into the dream that night. - I am not certain whether the strong and still recent impression of the - statue in Syracuse did not also come to the surface at a different - interval of time. - - - III.—_Dream from October 2–3, 1910._ - - (Fragment) ... Something about Professor Oser, who himself prepared - the menu for me, which served to restore me to great peace of mind - (rest forgotten). - - The dream was a reaction to the digestive disturbances of this day, - which made me consider asking one of my colleagues to arrange a diet - for me. That in the dream I selected for this purpose Professor Oser, - who had died in the summer, is based on the recent death (October 1) - of another university teacher, whom I highly revered. But when did - Oser die, and when did I hear of his death? According to the newspaper - notice, he died on the 22nd of August, but as I was at the time in - Holland, whither my Vienna newspapers were regularly sent me, I must - have read the obituary notice on the 24th or 25th of August. This - interval no longer corresponds to any period. It takes in 7 and 30 and - 2, equals 39, days, or perhaps 38 days. I cannot recall having spoken - or thought of Oser during this interval. - - Such intervals as were not available for the “period theory” without - further elaboration, were shown from my dreams to be far more frequent - than the regular ones. As maintained in the text, the only thing - constantly found is the relation to an impression of the day of the - dream itself. - -Footnote AR: - - _Cf._ my essay, “Ueber Deckerinnerungen,” in the _Monatsschrift für - Psychiatrie und Neurologie_, 1899. - -Footnote AS: - - Ger., _blühend_. - -Footnote AT: - - The tendency of the dream function to fuse everything of interest - which is present into simultaneous treatment has already been noticed - by several authors, for instance, by Delage,[15] p. 41, Delbœuf,[16] - _Rapprochement Forcé_, p. 236. - -Footnote AU: - - The dream of Irma’s injection; the dream of the friend who is my - uncle. - -Footnote AV: - - The dream of the funeral oration of the young physician. - -Footnote AW: - - The dream of the botanical monograph. - -Footnote AX: - - The dreams of my patients during analysis are mostly of this kind. - -Footnote AY: - - _Cf._ Chap. VII. upon “Transference.” - -Footnote AZ: - - Substitution of the opposite, as will become clear to us after - interpretation. - -Footnote BA: - - The Prater is the principal drive of Vienna. (Transl.) - -Footnote BB: - - I have long since learned that it only requires a little courage to - fulfil even such unattainable wishes. - -Footnote BC: - - In the first edition there was printed here the name Hasdrubal, a - confusing error, the explanation of which I have given in my - _Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens_. - -Footnote BD: - - A street in Vienna. - -Footnote BE: - - _Fensterln_ is the practice, now falling into disuse, found in rural - districts of the German Schwarzwald, of lovers wooing at the windows - of their sweethearts, bringing ladders with them, and becoming so - intimate that they practically enjoy a system of trial marriages. The - reputation of the young woman never suffers on account of _fensterln_, - unless she becomes intimate with too many suitors. (Translator.) - -Footnote BF: - - Both the emotions which belong to these childish scenes—astonishment - and resignation to the inevitable—had appeared in a dream shortly - before, which was the first thing that brought back the memory of this - childhood experience. - -Footnote BG: - - I do not elaborate plagiostomi purposely; they recall an occasion of - angry disgrace before the same teacher. - -Footnote BH: - - _Cf._ Maury’s dream about kilo-lotto, p. 50. - -Footnote BI: - - Popo = backside in German nursery language. - -Footnote BJ: - - This repetition has insinuated itself into the text of the dream - apparently through my absent-mindedness, and I allow it to remain - because the analysis shows that it has its significance. - -Footnote BK: - - Not in _Germinal_, but in _La Terre_—a mistake of which I became aware - only in the analysis. I may call attention also to the identity of the - letters in _Huflattich_ and _Flatus_. - -Footnote BL: - - Translator’s note. - -Footnote BM: - - In his significant work (“Phantasie und Mythos,” _Jahrbuch für - Psychoanalyse_, Bd. ii., 1910), H. Silberer has endeavoured to show - from this part of the dream that the dream-work is able to reproduce - not only the latent dream thoughts, but also the psychic processes in - the dream formation (“Das functionale Phänomen”). - -Footnote BN: - - Another interpretation: He is one-eyed like Odin, the father of the - gods ... Odin’s consolation. The consolation in the childish scene, - that I will buy him a new bed. - -Footnote BO: - - I here add some material for interpretation. Holding the urinal - recalls the story of a peasant who tries one glass after another at - the opticians, but still cannot read (peasant-catcher, like - girl-catcher in a portion of the dream). The treatment among the - peasants of the father who has become weak-minded in Zola’s _La - Terre_. The pathetic atonement that in his last days the father soils - his bed like a child; hence, also, I am his sick-attendant in the - dream. Thinking and experiencing are here, as it were; the same thing - recalls a highly revolutionary closet drama by Oscar Panizza, in which - the Godhead is treated quite contemptuously, as though he were a - paralytic old man. There occurs a passage: “Will and deed are the same - thing with him, and he must be prevented by his archangel, a kind of - Ganymede, from scolding and swearing, because these curses would - immediately be fulfilled.” Making plans is a reproach against my - father, dating from a later period in the development of my critical - faculty; just as the whole rebellious, sovereign-offending dream, with - its scoff at high authority, originates in a revolt against my father. - The sovereign is called father of the land (_Landesvater_), and the - father is the oldest, first and only authority for the child, from the - absolutism of which the other social authorities have developed in the - course of the history of human civilisation (in so far as the - “mother’s right” does not force a qualification of this thesis). The - idea in the dream, “thinking and experiencing are the same thing,” - refers to the explanation of hysterical symptoms, to which the male - urinal (glass) also has a relation. I need not explain the principle - of the “Gschnas” to a Viennese; it consists in constructing objects of - rare and costly appearance out of trifles, and preferably out of - comical and worthless material—for example, making suits of armour out - of cooking utensils, sticks and “salzstangeln” (elongated rolls), as - our artists like to do at their jolly parties. I had now learned that - hysterical subjects do the same thing; besides what has actually - occurred to them, they unconsciously conceive horrible or extravagant - fantastic images, which they construct from the most harmless and - commonplace things they have experienced. The symptoms depend solely - upon these phantasies, not upon the memory of their real experiences, - be they serious or harmless. This explanation helped me to overcome - many difficulties and gave me much pleasure. I was able to allude to - it in the dream element “male urinal” (glass) because I had been told - that at the last “Gschnas” evening a poison chalice of Lucretia Borgia - had been exhibited, the chief constituent of which had consisted of a - glass urinal for men, such as is used in hospitals. - -Footnote BP: - - _Cf._ the passage in Griesinger[31] and the remarks in my second essay - on the “defence-neuropsychoses”—_Selected Papers on Hysteria_, - translated by A. A. Brill. - -Footnote BQ: - - In the two sources from which I am acquainted with this dream, the - report of its contents do not agree. - -Footnote BR: - - An exception is furnished by those cases in which the dreamer utilises - in the expression of his latent dream thoughts the symbols which are - familiar to us. - -Footnote BS: - - “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” - -Footnote BT: - - The child also appears in the fairy tale, for there a child suddenly - calls: “Why, he hasn’t anything on at all.” - -Footnote BU: - - Ferenczi has reported a number of interesting dreams of nakedness in - women which could be traced to an infantile desire to exhibit, but - which differ in some features from the “typical” dream of nakedness - discussed above. - -Footnote BV: - - For obvious reasons the presence of the “whole family” in the dream - has the same significance. - -Footnote BW: - - A supplementary interpretation of this dream: To spit on the stairs, - led me to “esprit d’escalier” by a free translation, owing to the fact - that “Spucken” (English: spit, and also to act like a _spook_, to - haunt) is an occupation of ghosts. “Stair-wit” is equivalent to lack - of quickness at repartee (German: _Schlagfertigkeit_—readiness to hit - back, to strike), with which I must really reproach myself. Is it a - question, however, whether the nurse was lacking in “readiness to - hit”? - -Footnote BX: - - _Cf._ “Analyse der Phobie eines fünfjährigen Knaben” in the _Jahrbuch - für psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen_, vol. i., - 1909, and “Ueber infantile Sexualtheorien,” in _Sexualprobleme_, vol. - i., 1908. - -Footnote BY: - - The three-and-a-half-year-old Hans, whose phobia is the subject of - analysis in the above-mentioned publication, cries during fever - shortly after the birth of his sister: “I don’t want a little sister.” - In his neurosis, one and a half years later, he frankly confesses the - wish that the mother should drop the little one into the bath-tub - while bathing it, in order that it may die. With all this, Hans is a - good-natured, affectionate child, who soon becomes fond of his sister, - and likes especially to take her under his protection. - -Footnote BZ: - - The three-and-a-half-year old Hans embodies his crushing criticism of - his little sister in the identical word (see previous notes). He - assumes that she is unable to speak on account of her lack of teeth. - -Footnote CA: - - I heard the following idea expressed by a gifted boy of ten, after the - sudden death of his father: “I understand that father is dead, but I - cannot see why he does not come home for supper.” - -Footnote CB: - - At least a certain number of mythological representations. According - to others, emasculation is only practised by Kronos on his father. - - With regard to mythological significance of this motive, _cf._ Otto - Rank’s “Der Mythus von der Geburt des Helden,” fifth number of - _Schriften zur angew. Seelenkunde_, 1909. - -Footnote CC: - - Act. i. sc. 2. Translated by George Somers Clark. - -Footnote CD: - - Another of the great creations of tragic poetry, Shakespeare’s - _Hamlet_, is founded on the same basis as the _Oedipus_. But the whole - difference in the psychic life of the two widely separated periods of - civilisation—the age-long progress of repression in the emotional life - of humanity—is made manifest in the changed treatment of the identical - material. In _Oedipus_ the basic wish-phantasy of the child is brought - to light and realised as it is in the dream; in _Hamlet_ it remains - repressed, and we learn of its existence—somewhat as in the case of a - neurosis—only by the inhibition which results from it. The fact that - it is possible to remain in complete darkness concerning the character - of the hero, has curiously shown itself to be consistent with the - overpowering effect of the modern drama. The play is based upon - Hamlet’s hesitation to accomplish the avenging task which has been - assigned to him; the text does not avow the reasons or motives of this - hesitation, nor have the numerous attempts at interpretation succeeded - in giving them. According to the conception which is still current - to-day, and which goes back to Goethe, Hamlet represents the type of - man whose prime energy is paralysed by over-development of thought - activity. (“Sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought.”) According - to others the poet has attempted to portray a morbid, vacillating - character who is subject to neurasthenia. The plot of the story, - however, teaches us that Hamlet is by no means intended to appear as a - person altogether incapable of action. Twice we see him asserting - himself actively, once in headlong passion, where he stabs the - eavesdropper behind the arras, and on another occasion where he sends - the two courtiers to the death which has been intended for - himself—doing this deliberately, even craftily, and with all the lack - of compunction of a prince of the Renaissance. What is it, then, that - restrains him in the accomplishment of the task which his father’s - ghost has set before him? Here the explanation offers itself that it - is the peculiar nature of this task. Hamlet can do everything but take - vengeance upon the man who has put his father out of the way, and has - taken his father’s place with his mother—upon the man who shows him - the realisation of his repressed childhood wishes. The loathing which - ought to drive him to revenge is thus replaced in him by - self-reproaches, by conscientious scruples, which represent to him - that he himself is no better than the murderer whom he is to punish. I - have thus translated into consciousness what had to remain unconscious - in the mind of the hero; if some one wishes to call Hamlet a hysteric - subject I cannot but recognise it as an inference from my - interpretation. The sexual disinclination which Hamlet expresses in - conversation with Ophelia, coincides very well with this view—it is - the same sexual disinclination which was to take possession of the - poet more and more during the next few years of his life, until the - climax of it is expressed in _Timon of Athens_. Of course it can only - be the poet’s own psychology with which we are confronted in _Hamlet_; - from a work on Shakespeare by George Brandes (1896), I take the fact - that the drama was composed immediately after the death of - Shakespeare’s father—that is to say, in the midst of recent mourning - for him—during the revival, we may assume, of his childhood emotion - towards his father. It is also known that a son of Shakespeare’s, who - died early, bore the name of Hamnet (identical with Hamlet). Just as - _Hamlet_ treats of the relation of the son to his parents, _Macbeth_, - which appears subsequently, is based upon the theme of childlessness. - Just as every neurotic symptom, just as the dream itself, is capable - of re-interpretation, and even requires it in order to be perfectly - intelligible, so every genuine poetical creation must have proceeded - from more than one motive, more than one impulse in the mind of the - poet, and must admit of more than one interpretation. I have here - attempted to interpret only the most profound group of impulses in the - mind of the creative poet. The conception of the _Hamlet_ problem - contained in these remarks has been later confirmed in a detailed work - based on many new arguments by Dr. Ernest Jones, of Toronto (Canada). - The connection of the _Hamlet_ material with the “Mythus von der - Geburt des Helden” has also been demonstrated by O. Rank.—“The - _Oedipus_ Complex as an Explanation of _Hamlet’s_ Mystery: a Study in - Motive” (_American Journal of Psychology_, January 1910, vol. xxi.). - -Footnote CE: - - Likewise, anything large, over-abundant, enormous, and exaggerated, - may be a childish characteristic. The child knows no more intense wish - than to become big, and to receive as much of everything as grown-ups; - the child is hard to satisfy; it knows no _enough_, and insatiably - demands the repetition of whatever has pleased it or tasted good to - it. It learns to practise moderation, to be modest and resigned, only - through culture and education. As is well known, the neurotic is also - inclined toward immoderation and excess. - -Footnote CF: - - While Dr. Jones was delivering a lecture before an American scientific - society, and speaking of egotism in dreams, a learned lady took - exception to this unscientific generalisation. She thought that the - lecturer could only pronounce such judgment on the dreams of - Austrians, and had no right to include the dreams of Americans. As for - herself she was sure that all her dreams were strictly altruistic. - -Footnote CG: - - According to C. G. Jung, dreams of dental irritation in the case of - women have the significance of parturition dreams. - -Footnote CH: - - _Cf._ the “biographic” dream on p. 235. - -Footnote CI: - - As the dreams of pulling teeth, and teeth falling out, are interpreted - in popular belief to mean the death of a close friend, and as - psychoanalysis can at most only admit of such a meaning in the above - indicated parodical sense, I insert here a dream of dental irritation - placed at my disposal by Otto Rank[109]. - - Upon the subject of dreams of dental irritation I have received the - following report from a colleague who has for some time taken a lively - interest in the problems of dream interpretation: - - _I recently dreamed that I went to the dentist who drilled out one of - my back teeth in the lower jaw. He worked so long at it that the tooth - became useless. He then grasped it with the forceps, and pulled it out - with such perfect ease that it astonished me. He said that I should - not care about it, as this was not really the tooth that had been - treated; and he put it on the table where the tooth (as it seems to me - now an upper incisor) fell apart into many strata. I arose from the - operating chair, stepped inquisitively nearer, and, full of interest, - put a medical question. While the doctor separated the individual - pieces of the strikingly white tooth and ground them up (pulverised - them) with an instrument, he explained to me that this had some - connection with puberty, and that the teeth come out so easily only - before puberty; the decisive moment for this in women is the birth of - a child. I then noticed (as I believe half awake) that this dream was - accompanied by a pollution which I cannot however definitely place at - a particular point in the dream; I am inclined to think that it began - with the pulling out of the tooth._ - - _I then continued to dream something which I can no longer remember, - which ended with the fact that I had left my hat and coat somewhere - (perhaps at the dentist’s), hoping that they would be brought after - me, and dressed only in my overcoat I hastened to catch a departing - train. I succeeded at the last moment in jumping upon the last car, - where someone was already standing. I could not, however, get inside - the car, but was compelled to make the journey in an uncomfortable - position, from which I attempted to escape with final success. We - journeyed through a long tunnel, in which two trains from the opposite - direction passed through our own train as if it were a tunnel. I - looked in as from the outside through a car window._ - - As material for the interpretation of this dream, we obtained the - following experiences and thoughts of the dreamer:— - - I. For a short time I had actually been under dental treatment, and at - the time of the dream I was suffering from continual pains in the - tooth of my lower jaw, which was drilled out in the dream, and on - which the dentist had in fact worked longer than I liked. On the - forenoon of the day of the dream I had again gone to the doctor’s on - account of the pain, and he had suggested that I should allow him to - pull out another tooth than the one treated in the same jaw, from - which the pain probably came. It was a ‘wisdom tooth’ which was just - breaking through. On this occasion, and in this connection, I had put - a question to his conscience as a physician. - - II. On the afternoon of the same day I was obliged to excuse myself to - a lady for my irritable disposition on account of the toothache, upon - which she told me that she was afraid to have one of her roots pulled, - though the crown was almost completely gone. She thought that the - pulling out of eye teeth was especially painful and dangerous, - although some acquaintance had told her that this was much easier when - it was a tooth of the lower jaw. It was such a tooth in her case. The - same acquaintance also told her that while under an anæsthetic one of - her false teeth had been pulled—a statement which increased her fear - of the necessary operation. She then asked me whether by eye teeth one - was to understand molars or canines, and what was known about them. I - then called her attention to the vein of superstitions in all these - meanings, without however, emphasising the real significance of some - of the popular views. She knew from her own experience, a very old and - general popular belief, according to which _if a pregnant woman has - toothache she will give birth to a boy_. - - III. This saying interested me in its relation to the typical - significance of dreams of dental irritation as a substitute for - onanism as maintained by Freud in his _Traumdeutung_ (2nd edition, p. - 193), for the teeth and the male genital (Bub-boy) are brought in - certain relations even in the popular saying. On the evening of the - same day I therefore read the passage in question in the - _Traumdeutung_, and found there among other things the statements - which will be quoted in a moment, the influence of which on my dream - is as plainly recognisable as the influence of the two above-mentioned - experiences. Freud writes concerning dreams of dental irritation that - ‘in the case of men nothing else than cravings for masturbation from - the time of puberty furnishes the motive power for these dreams,’ p. - 193. Further, ‘I am of the opinion that the frequent modifications of - the typical dream of dental irritation—that _e.g._ of another person - drawing the tooth from the dreamer’s mouth—are made intelligible by - means of the same explanation. It may seem problematic, however, how - “dental irritation” can arrive at this significance. I here call - attention to the transference from below to above (in the dream in - question from the lower to the upper jaw), which occurs so frequently, - which is at the service of sexual repression, and by means of which - all kinds of sensations and intentions occurring in hysteria which - ought to be enacted in the genitals can be realised upon less - objectionable parts of the body,’ p. 194. ‘But I must also refer to - another connection contained in an idiomatic expression. In our - country there is in use an indelicate designation for the act of - masturbation, namely: To pull one out, or to pull one down,’ p. 195, - 2nd edition. This expression had been familiar to me in early youth as - a designation for onanism, and from here on it will not be difficult - for the experienced dream interpreter to get access to the infantile - material which may lie at the basis of this dream. I only wish to add - that the facility with which the tooth in the dream came out, and the - fact that it became transformed after coming out into an upper - incisor, recalls to me an experience of childhood when I myself easily - and painlessly pulled out one of my wobbling front teeth. This - episode, which I can still to this day distinctly remember with all - its details, happened at the same early period in which my first - conscious attempts at onanism began—(Concealing Memory). The reference - of Freud to an assertion of C. G. Jung that dreams of dental - irritation in women signify parturition (footnote p. 194), together - with the popular belief in the significance of toothache in pregnant - women, has established an opposition between the feminine significance - and the masculine (puberty). In this connection I recall an earlier - dream which I dreamed soon after I was discharged by the dentist after - the treatment, that the gold crowns which had just been put in fell - out, whereupon I was greatly chagrined in the dream on account of the - considerable expense, concerning which I had not yet stopped worrying. - In view of a certain experience this dream now becomes comprehensible - as a commendation of the material advantages of masturbation when - contrasted with every form of the economically less advantageous - object-love (gold crowns are also Austrian gold coins). - - Theoretically this case seems to show a double interest. First it - verifies the connection revealed by Freud, inasmuch as the ejaculation - in the dream takes place during the act of tooth-pulling. For no - matter in what form a pollution may appear, we are obliged to look - upon it as a masturbatic gratification which takes place without the - help of mechanical excitation. Moreover the gratification by pollution - in this case does not take place, as is usually the case, through an - imaginary object, but it is without an object; and, if one may be - allowed to say so, it is purely autoerotic, or at most it perhaps - shows a slight homosexual thread (the dentist). - - The second point which seems to be worth mentioning is the following: - The objection is quite obvious that we are seeking here to validate - the Freudian conception in a quite superfluous manner, for the - experiences of the reading itself are perfectly sufficient to explain - to us the content of the dream. The visit to the dentist, the - conversation with the lady, and the reading of the _Traumdeutung_ are - sufficient to explain why the sleeper, who was also disturbed during - the night by toothache, should dream this dream, it may even explain - the removal of the sleep-disturbing pain (by means of the presentation - of the removal of the painful tooth and simultaneous over-accentuation - of the dreaded painful sensation through libido). But no matter how - much of this assumption we may admit, we cannot earnestly maintain - that the readings of Freud’s explanations have produced in the dreamer - the connection of the tooth-pulling with the act of masturbation; it - could not even have been made effective had it not been for the fact, - as the dreamer himself admitted (‘to pull one off’) that this - association had already been formed long ago. What may have still more - stimulated this association in connection with the conversation with - the lady is shown by a later assertion of the dreamer that while - reading the _Traumdeutung_ he could not, for obvious reasons, believe - in this typical meaning of dreams of dental irritation, and - entertained the wish to know whether it held true for all dreams of - this nature. The dream now confirms this at least for his own person, - and shows him why he had to doubt it. The dream is therefore also in - this respect the fulfilment of a wish; namely, to be convinced of the - importance and stability of this conception of Freud. - -Footnote CJ: - - A young colleague, who is entirely free from nervousness, tells me in - this connection: “I know from my own experience that while swinging, - and at the moment at which the downward movement had the greatest - impetus, I used to get a curious feeling in my genitals, which I must - designate, although it was not really pleasant to me, as a voluptuous - feeling.” I have often heard from patients that their first erections - accompanied by voluptuous sensations had occurred in boyhood while - they were climbing. It is established with complete certainty by - psychoanalyses that the first sexual impulses have often originated in - the scufflings and wrestlings of childhood. - -Footnote CK: - - This naturally holds true only for German-speaking dreamers who are - acquainted with the vulgarism “_vögeln_.” - -Footnote CL: - - _Sammlung kl. Schriften zur Neurosenlehre_, zweite Folge, 1909. - -Footnote CM: - - _Cf._ the author’s _Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory_, - translated by A. A. Brill. - -Footnote CN: - - W. Stekel, _Die Sprache des Traumes_, 1911. - -Footnote CO: - - Alf. Adler, “Der Psychische Hermaphroditismus im Leben und in der - Neurose,” _Fortschritte der Medizin_, 1910, No. 16, and later works in - the _Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, 1, 1910–1911. - -Footnote CP: - - I have published a typical example of such a veiled Oedipus dream in - No. 1 of the _Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_; another with a detailed - analysis was reported in the same journal, No. IV., by Otto Rank. - Indeed the ancients were not unfamiliar with the symbolic - interpretation of the open Oedipus dream (see O. Rank,[108] p. 534); - thus a dream of sexual relations with the mother has been transmitted - to us by Julius Cæsar which the oneiroscopists interpreted as a - favourable omen for taking possession of the earth (Mother-earth). It - is also known that the oracle declared to the Tarquinii that that one - of them would become ruler of Rome who should first kiss the mother - (_osculum, matri tulerit_), which Brutus conceived as referring to the - mother-earth (_terram osculo contigit, scilicet quod ea communia mater - omnium mortalium esset_, Livius, I., lxi.). These myths and - interpretations point to a correct psychological knowledge. I have - found that persons who consider themselves preferred or favoured by - their mothers manifest in life that confidence in themselves and that - firm optimism which often seems heroic and brings about real success - by force. - -Footnote CQ: - - It is only of late that I have learned to value the significance of - fancies and unconscious thoughts about life in the womb. They contain - the explanation of the curious fear felt by so many people of being - buried alive, as well as the profoundest unconscious reason for the - belief in a life after death which represents nothing but a projection - into the future of this mysterious life before birth. _The act of - birth, moreover, is the first experience with fear, and is thus the - source and model of the emotion of fear._ - -Footnote CR: - - For such a dream see Pfister: “Ein Fall von Psychoanalytischer - Seelensorge und Seelenheilung,” _Evangelische Freiheit_, 1909. - Concerning the symbol of “saving” see my lecture, “Die Zukünftigen - Chancen der psychoanalytischen Therapie,” _Zentralblatt für - Psychoanalyse_, No. I., 1910. Also “Beiträge zur Psychologie des - Liebeslebens, I. Ueber einen besonderen Typus der objektwahl beim - Manne,” _Jahrbuch_, Bleuler-Freud, vol. ii., 1910. - -Footnote CS: - - _Cf._ the works of Bleuler and of his pupils Maeder, Abraham, and - others of the Zürich school upon symbolism, and of those authors who - are not physicians (Kleinpaul and others), to which they refer. - -Footnote CT: - - In this country the President, the Governor, and the Mayor often - represent the father in the dream. (Translator.) - -Footnote CU: - - I may here repeat what I have said in another place (“Die Zukünftigen - Chancen der psychoanalytischen Therapie,” _Zentralblatt für - Psychoanalyse_, I., No. 1 and 2, 1910): “Some time ago I learned that - a psychologist who is unfamiliar with our work remarked to one of my - friends that we are surely over-estimating the secret sexual - significance of dreams. He stated that his most frequent dream was of - climbing a stairway, and that there was surely nothing sexual behind - this. Our attention having been called to this objection, we directed - our investigations to the occurrence of stairways, stairs, and ladders - in the dream, and we soon ascertained that stairs (or anything - analogous to them) represent a definite symbol of coitus. The basis - for this comparison is not difficult to find; under rhythmic intervals - and with increasing difficulty in breathing one reaches to a height, - and may come down again in a few rapid jumps. Thus the rhythm of - coitus is recognisable in climbing stairs. Let us not forget to - consider the usage of language. It shows us that the “climbing” or - “mounting” is, without further addition, used as a substitutive - designation of the sexual act. In French the step of the stairway is - called “_la marche_”; “_un vieux marcheur_” corresponds exactly to our - “an old climber.”” - -Footnote CV: - - In this country where the word “necktie” is almost exclusively used, - the translator has also found it to be a symbol of a burdensome woman - from whom the dreamer longs to be freed—“necktie—something tied to my - neck like a heavy weight—my fiancée,” are the associations from the - dream of a man who eventually broke his marriage engagement. - -Footnote CW: - - In spite of all the differences between Scherner’s conception of dream - symbolism and the one developed here, I must still assert that - Scherner[58] should be recognised as the true discoverer of symbolism - in dreams, and that the experience of psychoanalysis has brought his - book into honourable repute after it had been considered fantastic for - about fifty years. - -Footnote CX: - - From “Nachträge zur Traumdeutung,” _Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, - I., No. 5 and 6, 1911. - -Footnote CY: - - “Beiträge zur Traumdeutung,” _Jahrbuch für Psychoanalyt. und psychop. - Forsch._, Bd. I., 1909, p. 473. Here also (p. 475) a dream is reported - in which a hat with a feather standing obliquely in the middle - symbolises the (impotent) man. - -Footnote CZ: - - _Cf._ _Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, I. - -Footnote DA: - - Or chapel-vagina. - -Footnote DB: - - Symbol of coitus. - -Footnote DC: - - Mons veneris. - -Footnote DD: - - Crines pubis. - -Footnote DE: - - Demons in cloaks and capucines are, according to the explanation of a - man versed in the subject, of a phallic nature. - -Footnote DF: - - The two halves of the scrotum. - -Footnote DG: - - See _Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse_, vol. i., p. 2. - -Footnote DH: - - This Hebrew word is well known in German-speaking countries, even - among non-Jews, and signifies an unlucky, awkward person. - (Translator.) - -Footnote DI: - - In estimating this description of the author one may recall the - significance of stairway dreams, referred to on p. 246. - -Footnote DJ: - - The fantastic nature of the situation relating to the nurse of the - dreamer is shown by the objectively ascertained circumstance that the - nurse in this case was his mother. Furthermore, I may call attention - to the regret of the young man in the anecdote (p. 172), that he had - not taken better advantage of his opportunity with the nurse as - probably the source of the present dream. - -Footnote DK: - - This is the real inciter of the dream. - -Footnote DL: - - By way of supplement. Such books are poison to a young girl. She - herself in youth had drawn much information from forbidden books. - -Footnote DM: - - A further train of thought leads to _Penthesileia_ by the same author: - cruelty towards her lover. - -Footnote DN: - - Given by translator as author’s example could not be translated. - -Footnote DO: - - The same analysis and synthesis of syllables—a veritable chemistry of - syllables—serves us for many a jest in waking life. “What is the - cheapest method of obtaining silver? You go to a field where - silver-berries are growing and pick them; then the berries are - eliminated and the silver remains in a free state.” The first person - who read and criticised this book made the objection to me—which other - readers will probably repeat—“that the dreamer often appears too - witty.” That is true, as long as it applies to the dreamer; it - involves a condemnation only when its application is extended to the - interpreter of the dream. In waking reality I can make very little - claim to the predicate “witty”; if my dreams appear witty, this is not - the fault of my individuality, but of the peculiar psychological - conditions under which the dream is fabricated, and is intimately - connected with the theory of wit and the comical. The dream becomes - witty because the shortest and most direct way to the expression of - its thoughts is barred for it: the dream is under constraint. My - readers may convince themselves that the dreams of my patients give - the impression of being witty (attempting to be witty), in the same - degree and in a greater than my own. Nevertheless this reproach - impelled me to compare the technique of wit with the dream activity, - which I have done in a book published in 1905, on _Wit and its - Relation to the Unconscious_. (Author.) - -Footnote DP: - - Lasker died of progressive paralysis, that is of the consequences of - an infection caught from a woman (lues); Lasalle, as is well known, - was killed in a duel on account of a lady. - -Footnote DQ: - - In the case of a young man who was suffering from obsessions, but - whose intellectual functions were intact and highly developed, I - recently found the only exception to this rule. The speeches which - occurred in his dreams did not originate in speeches which he had - heard or had made himself, but corresponded to the undisfigured - wording of his obsessive thoughts, which only came to his - consciousness in a changed state while he was awake. - -Footnote DR: - - Psychic intensity, value, and emphasis due to the interest of an idea - are, of course, to be kept distinct from sensational intensity, and - from intensity of that which is conceived. - -Footnote DS: - - Since I consider this reference of dream disfigurement to the censor - as the essence of my dream theory, I here insert the latter portion of - a story “Traumen wie Wachen” from _Phantasien eines Realisten_, by - Lynkus, Vienna, (second edition, 1900), in which I find this chief - feature of my theory reproduced:— - - “Concerning a man who possesses the remarkable quality of never - dreaming nonsense....” - - “Your marvellous characteristic of dreaming as you wake is based upon - your virtues, upon your goodness, your justice, and your love for - truth; it is the moral clearness of your nature which makes everything - about you intelligible.” - - “But if you think the matter over carefully,” replied the other, “I - almost believe that all people are created as I am, and that no human - being ever dreams nonsense! A dream which is so distinctly remembered - that it can be reproduced, which is therefore no dream of delirium, - _always_ has a meaning; why, it cannot be otherwise! For that which is - in contradiction with itself can never be grouped together as a whole. - The fact that time and space are often thoroughly shaken up detracts - nothing from the real meaning of the dream, because neither of them - has had any significance whatever for its essential contents. We often - do the same thing in waking life; think of the fairy-tale, of many - daring and profound phantastic creations, about which only an ignorant - person would say: ‘That is nonsense! For it is impossible.’” - - “If it were only always possible to interpret dreams correctly, as you - have just done with mine!” said the friend. - - “That is certainly not an easy task, but the dreamer himself ought - always to succeed in doing it with a little concentration of - attention.... You ask why it is generally impossible? Your dreams seem - to conceal something secret, something unchaste of a peculiar and - higher nature, a certain mystery in your nature which cannot easily be - revealed by thought; and it is for that reason that your dreaming - seems so often to be without meaning, or even to be a contradiction. - But in the profoundest sense this is by no means the case; indeed it - cannot be true at all, for it is always the same person, whether he is - asleep or awake.” - -Footnote DT: - - I have since given the complete analysis and synthesis of two dreams - in the _Bruchstueck einer Hysterieanalyse_, 1905. - -Footnote DU: - - From a work of K. Abel, _Der Gegensinn der Urworte_, 1884 (see my - review of it in the Bleuler-Freud _Jahrbuch_, II., 1910), I learned - with surprise a fact which is confirmed by other philologists, that - the oldest languages behaved in this regard quite like the dream. They - originally had only one word for both extremes in a series of - qualities or activities (strong—weak, old—young, far—near, to tie—to - separate), and formed separate designations for the two extremes only - secondarily through slight modifications of the common primitive word. - Abel demonstrated these relationships with rare exceptions in the old - Egyptian, and he was able to show distinct remnants of the same - development in the Semitic and Indo-Germanic languages. - -Footnote DV: - - If I do not know behind which of the persons which occur in the dream - I am to look for my ego, I observe the following rule: That person in - the dream who is subject to an emotion which I experience while - asleep, is the one that conceals my ego. - -Footnote DW: - - The hysterical attack sometimes uses the same device—the inversion of - time-relations—for the purpose of concealing its meaning from the - spectator. The attack of a hysterical girl, for example, consists in - enacting a little romance, which she has unconsciously fancied in - connection with an encounter in the street car. A man, attracted by - the beauty of her foot, addresses her while she is reading, whereupon - she goes with him and experiences a stormy love scene. Her attack - begins with the representation of this scene in writhing movements of - the body (accompanied by motions of the lips to signify kissing, - entwining of the arms for embraces), whereupon she hurries into - another room, sits down in a chair, lifts her skirt in order to show - her foot, acts as though she were about to read a book, and speaks to - me (answers me). - -Footnote DX: - - Accompanying hysterical symptoms: Failure to menstruate and profound - depression, which was the chief ailment of the patient. - -Footnote DY: - - A reference to a childhood experience is after complete analysis shown - to exist by the following intermediaries: “The Moor has done his duty, - the Moor _may go_.” And then follows the waggish question: “How old is - the Moor when he has done his duty? One year. Then he may go.” (It is - said that I came into the world with so much black curly hair that my - young mother declared me to be a Moor.) The circumstance that I do not - find my hat is an experience of the day which has been turned to - account with various significations. Our servant, who is a genius at - stowing away things, had hidden the hat. A suppression of sad thoughts - about death is also concealed behind the conclusion of the dream: “I - have not nearly done my duty yet; I may not go yet.” Birth and death, - as in the dream that occurred shortly before about Goethe and the - paralytic (p. 345). - -Footnote DZ: - - Cf. _Der Witz und seine Beziehung zum Unbewussten_, 2nd edit. 1912, - and “word-bridges,” in the solutions of neurotic symptoms. - -Footnote EA: - - In general it is doubtful in the interpretation of every element of - the dream whether it— - - (_a_) is to be regarded as having a negative or a positive sense - (relation of opposition); - - (_b_) is to be interpreted historically (as a reminiscence); - - (_c_) is symbolic; or whether - - (_d_) its valuation is to be based upon the sound of its verbal - expression. - - In spite of this manifold signification, it may be said that the - representation of the dream activity does not impose upon the - translator any greater difficulties than the ancient writers of - hieroglyphics imposed upon their readers. - -Footnote EB: - - For the interpretation of this preliminary dream, which is to be - regarded as “casual,” see p. 292. - -Footnote EC: - - Her career. - -Footnote ED: - - High birth, the wish contrast to the preliminary dream. - -Footnote EE: - - A composite image, which unites two localities, the so-called garret - (German _Boden_—floor, garret) of her father’s house, in which she - played with her brother, the object of her later fancies, and the - garden of a malicious uncle, who used to tease her. - -Footnote EF: - - Wish contrast to an actual memory of her uncle’s garden, to the effect - that she used to expose herself while she was asleep. - -Footnote EG: - - Just as the angel bears a lily stem in the Annunciation. - -Footnote EH: - - For the explanation of this composite image, see p. 296; innocence, - menstruation, Camille. - -Footnote EI: - - Referring to the plurality of the persons who serve the purpose of her - fancy. - -Footnote EJ: - - Whether it is permitted to “pull one off,” _i.e._ to masturbate. - -Footnote EK: - - The bough has long since been used to represent the male genital, and - besides that it contains a very distinct allusion to the family name - of the dreamer. - -Footnote EL: - - Refers to matrimonial precautions, as does that which follows. - -Footnote EM: - - An analogous “biographical” dream was reported on p. 252, as the third - of the examples of dream symbolism; a second example is the one fully - reported by Rank[106] under the title “Traum der sich selbst deutet”; - for another one which must be read in the “opposite direction,” see - Stekel[114], p. 486. - -Footnote EN: - - Given by translator as author’s example could not be translated. - -Footnote EO: - - The neurosis also proceeds in the same manner. I know a patient who - involuntarily—contrary to her own wishes—hears (hallucinatory) songs - or fragments of songs without being able to understand their meaning - to her psychic life. She is surely not a paranoiac. Analysis showed - that she wrongly utilised the text of these songs by means of a - certain license. “Oh thou blissful one, Oh thou happy one,” is the - beginning of a Christmas song. By not continuing it to the word - “Christmas time” she makes a bridal song out of it, &c. The same - mechanism of disfigurement may take place also without hallucinations - as a mere mental occurrence. - -Footnote EP: - - As a contribution to the over-determination: My excuse for coming late - was that after working late at night I had in the morning to make the - long journey from Kaiser Josef Street to Waehringer Street. - -Footnote EQ: - - In addition Cæsar—Kaiser. - -Footnote ER: - - I have forgotten in what author I found a dream mentioned that was - overrun with unusually small figures, the source of which turned out - to be one of the engravings of Jacques Callot, which the dreamer had - looked at during the day. These engravings contained an enormous - number of very small figures; a series of them treats of the horrors - of the Thirty Years’ War. - -Footnote ES: - - The frequency with which in the dream dead persons appear as living, - act, and deal with us, has called forth undue astonishment and given - rise to strange explanations, from which our ignorance of the dream - becomes strikingly evident. And yet the explanation for these dreams - lies very close at hand. How often we have occasion to think: “_If_ - father were still alive, what would he say to it?” The dream can - express this _if_ in no other way than by present time in a definite - situation. Thus, for instance, a young man, whose grandfather has left - him a great inheritance, dreams that his grandfather is alive and - demands an accounting of him, upon an occasion when the young man had - been reproached for making too great an expenditure of money. What we - consider a resistance to the dream—the objection made by our better - knowledge, that after all the man is already dead—is in reality a - consolation, because the dead person did not have this or that - experience, or satisfaction at the knowledge that he has nothing more - to say. - - Another form of absurdity found in dreams of deceased relatives does - not express folly and absurdity, but serves to represent the most - extreme rejection; as the representation of a repressed thought which - one would gladly have appear as something least thought of. Dreams of - this kind are only solvable if one recalls that the dream makes no - distinction between things desired and realities. Thus, for example, a - man who nursed his father during his sickness, and who felt his death - very keenly, sometime afterward dreamed the following senseless dream: - _The father was again living, and conversed with him as usual, but_ - (the remarkable thing about it) _he had nevertheless died, though he - did not know it_. This dream can be understood if after “he had - nevertheless died,” one inserts _in consequence of the dreamer’s wish, - and_ if after “but he did not know it” one adds _that the dreamer has - entertained this wish_. While nursing his father, the son often wishes - his father’s death; _i.e._ he entertained the really compassionate - desire that death finally put an end to his suffering. While mourning - after his death, this very wish of compassion became an unconscious - reproach, as if it had really contributed to shorten the life of the - sick man. Through the awakening of early infantile feelings against - the father, it became possible to express this reproach as a dream; - and it was just because of the world-wide contrast between the dream - inciter and day thought that this dream had to come out so absurdly - (_cf._ with this, “Formulierungen über die zwei Prinzipien des - seelischen Geschehens,” _Jahrbuch_, Bleuler-Freud, III, 1, 1911). - -Footnote ET: - - Here the dream activity parodies the thought which it designates as - ridiculous, in that it creates something ridiculous in relation to it. - Heine does something similar when he tries to mock the bad rhymes of - the King of Bavaria. He does it in still worse rhymes: - - “Herr Ludwig ist ein grosser Poet - Und singt er, so stuerzt Apollo - Vor ihm auf die Knie und bittet und fleht, - ‘Halt ein, ich werde sonst toll oh!’” - -Footnote EU: - - Note the resemblance of _Geseres_ and _Ungeseres_ to the German words - for salted and unsalted—_gesalzen_ and _ungesalzen_; also to the - German words for soured and unsoured—_gesauert_ and _ungesauert_. - (Translator.) - -Footnote EV: - - This dream also furnishes a good example for the general thesis that - dreams of the same night, even though they be separated in memory, - spring from the same thought material. The dream situation in which I - am rescuing my children from the city of Rome, moreover, is disfigured - by a reference to an episode belonging to my childhood. The meaning is - that I envy certain relatives who years ago had occasion to transplant - their children to another soil. - -Footnote EW: - - This German expression is equivalent to our saying “You are not - responsible for that,” or “That has not been acquired through your own - efforts.” (Translator.) - -Footnote EX: - - The injunction or purpose contained in the dream, “I must tell that to - the doctor,” which occurs in dreams that are dreamed in the course of - psychoanalytical treatment, regularly corresponds to a great - resistance to the confession involved in the dream, and is not - infrequently followed by forgetting of the dream. - -Footnote EY: - - A subject about which an extensive discussion has taken place in the - volumes of the _Revue Philosophique_—(Paramnesia in the Dream). - -Footnote EZ: - - These results correct in several respects my earlier statements - concerning the representation of logical relations (p. 290). The - latter described the general conditions of dream activity, but they - did not take into consideration its finest and most careful - performances. - -Footnote FA: - - Stanniol, allusion to _Stannius_, the nervous system of fishes; _cf._ - p. 325. - -Footnote FB: - - The place in the corridor of my apartment house where the baby - carriages of the other tenants stand; it is also otherwise several - times over-determined. - -Footnote FC: - - This description is not intelligible even to myself, but I follow the - principle of reproducing the dream in those words which occur to me - while I am writing it down. The wording itself is a part of the dream - representation. - -Footnote FD: - - Schiller was not born in one of the Marburgs, but in Marbach, as every - graduate of a Gymnasium knows, and as I also knew. This again is one - of those errors (_cf._ p. 165) which are included as substitutes for - an intended deception at another place—an explanation of which I have - attempted in the _Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens_. - -Footnote FE: - - As analogy to this, I have since explained the extraordinary effect of - pleasure produced by “tendency” wit. - -Footnote FF: - - It is this fancy from the unconscious dream thoughts which - peremptorily demands _non vivit_ instead of _non vixit_. “You have - come too late, he is no longer alive.” The fact that the manifest - situation also tends towards “non vivit” has been mentioned on page - 334. - -Footnote FG: - - It is striking that the name Joseph plays such a large part in my - dreams (see the dream about my uncle). I can hide my ego in the dream - behind persons of this name with particular ease, for Joseph was the - name of the _dream interpreter_ in the Bible. - -Footnote FH: - - Rêve, petit roman—day-dream, story. - -Footnote FI: - - I have analysed a good example of a dream of this kind having its - origin in the stratification of several phantasies, in the _Bruchstück - einer Hysterie Analyse_, 1905. Moreover I undervalued the significance - of such phantasies for dream formation, as long as I was working - chiefly with my own dreams, which were based rarely upon day dreams, - most frequently upon discussions and mental conflicts. With other - persons it is often much easier to prove the _full analogy between the - nocturnal dream and the day dream_. It is often possible in an - hysterical patient to replace an attack by a dream; it is then obvious - that the phantasy of day dreams is the first step for both psychic - formations. - -Footnote FJ: - - See the _Psychopathology of Everyday Life_, 4th ed., 1912. (English - translation in preparation.) - -Footnote FK: - - Concerning the object of forgetting in general, see the - _Psychopathology of Everyday Life_. - -Footnote FL: - - Translated by A. A. Brill, appearing under the title _Selected Papers - on Hysteria_. - -Footnote FM: - - Jung has brilliantly corroborated this statement by analyses of - Dementia Praecox. (_The Psychology of Dementia Praecox_, translated by - F. Peterson and A. A. Brill.) - -Footnote FN: - - The same considerations naturally hold true also for the case where - superficial associations are exposed in the dream, as, _e.g._, in both - dreams reported by Maury (p. 50, _pélerinage_—_pelletier_—_pelle_, - _kilometer_—_kilogram_—_gilolo_, _Lobelia_—_Lopez_—_Lotto_). I know - from my work with neurotics what kind of reminiscence preferentially - represents itself in this manner. It is the consultation of - encyclopædias by which most people pacify their desire for explanation - of the sexual riddle during the period of curiosity in puberty. - -Footnote FO: - - The above sentences, which when written sounded very improbable, have - since been justified experimentally by Jung and his pupils in the - _Diagnostische Assoziationsstudien_. - -Footnote FP: - - _Selected Papers on Hysteria and Other Psychoneuroses_, p. 165, - translated by A. A. Brill (_Journal Mental and Nervous Disease_ - Publishing Co.). - -Footnote FQ: - - The German word “Dutzendmensch” (a man of dozens) which the young lady - wished to use in order to express her real opinion of her friend’s - fiancé, denotes a person with whom figures are everything. - (Translator.) - -Footnote FR: - - They share this character of indestructibility with all psychic acts - that are really unconscious—that is, with psychic acts belonging to - the system of the unconscious only. These paths are constantly open - and never fall into disuse; they conduct the discharge of the exciting - process as often as it becomes endowed with unconscious excitement. To - speak metaphorically they suffer the same form of annihilation as the - shades of the lower region in the _Odyssey_, who awoke to new life the - moment they drank blood. The processes depending on the foreconscious - system are destructible in a different way. The psychotherapy of the - neuroses is based on this difference. - -Footnote FS: - - Le Lorrain justly extols the wish-fulfilment of the dream: “Sans - fatigue sérieuse, sans être obligé de recourir à cette lutte opiniâtre - et longue qui use et corrode les jouissances poursuivies.” - -Footnote FT: - - This idea has been borrowed from _The Theory of Sleep_ by Liébault, - who revived hypnotic investigation in our days. (_Du Sommeil - provoqué_, etc.; Paris, 1889.) - -Footnote FU: - - The German of the word _bird_ is “Vogel,” which gives origin to the - vulgar expression “vöglen,” denoting sexual intercourse. (Trans. - note.) - -Footnote FV: - - The italics are my own, though the meaning is plain enough without - them. - -Footnote FW: - - The italics are mine. - -Footnote FX: - - _Cf._ the significant observations by J. Breuer in our _Studies on - Hysteria_, 1895, and 2nd ed. 1909. - -Footnote FY: - - Here, as in other places, there are gaps in the treatment of the - subject, which I have left intentionally, because to fill them up - would require on the one hand too great effort, and on the other hand - an extensive reference to material that is foreign to the dream. Thus - I have avoided stating whether I connect with the word “suppressed” - another sense than with the word “repressed.” It has been made clear - only that the latter emphasizes more than the former the relation to - the unconscious. I have not entered into the cognate problem why the - dream thoughts also experience distortion by the censor when they - abandon the progressive continuation to consciousness and choose the - path of regression. I have been above all anxious to awaken an - interest in the problems to which the further analysis of the - dream-work leads and to indicate the other themes which meet these on - the way. It was not always easy to decide just where the pursuit - should be discontinued. That I have not treated exhaustively the part - played in the dream by the psychosexual life and have avoided the - interpretation of dreams of an obvious sexual content is due to a - special reason which may not come up to the reader’s expectation. To - be sure, it is very far from my ideas and the principles expressed by - me in neuropathology to regard the sexual life as a “pudendum” which - should be left unconsidered by the physician and the scientific - investigator. I also consider ludicrous the moral indignation which - prompted the translator of Artemidoros of Daldis to keep from the - reader’s knowledge the chapter on sexual dreams contained in the - _Symbolism of the Dreams_. As for myself, I have been actuated solely - by the conviction that in the explanation of sexual dreams I should be - bound to entangle myself deeply in the still unexplained problems of - perversion and bisexuality; and for that reason I have reserved this - material for another connection. - -Footnote FZ: - - The dream is not the only phenomenon tending to base psychopathology - on psychology. In a short series of unfinished articles - (“Monatsschrift für Psychiatrie und Neurologie” entitled _Über den - psychischen Mechanismus der Vergesslichkeit_, 1898, and _Über - Deckerinnerungen_, 1899) I attempt to interpret a number of psychic - manifestations from everyday life in support of the same conception. - These and other articles on “Forgetting,” “Lapse of Speech,” &c., have - since been published collectively under the title of _Psychopathology - of Everyday Life_, 1904 and 1907, of which an English translation will - shortly appear. - -Footnote GA: - - “The Conception of the Unconscious in Psychology”: Lecture delivered - at the Third International Congress of Psychology at Munich, 1897. - -Footnote GB: - - _Cf._ here (p. 82) the dream (Σα-τυρος) of Alexander the Great at the - siege of Tyrus. - -Footnote GC: - - Professor Ernst Oppenheim (Vienna) has shown me from folk-lore - material that there is a class of dreams for which even the people - drop the expectation of future interpretation, and which they trace in - a perfectly correct manner to wish feelings and wants arising during - sleep. He will in the near future fully report upon these dreams, - which for the most part are in the form of “funny stories.” - - - Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - Edinburgh & London. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - 3. Not all numbered items in the Literary Index have corresponding - crossreferences in the text. - 4. Footnotes were re-indexed using letters and collected together at - the end of the last chapter. - 5. 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