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. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.