I had some trouble in getting any light on this dream, but suddenly much of
the meaning became clear and a whole group of associations came up.
Undoubtedly the trouble I experienced at first was caused by the resistance
of the censor. I will give the associated memories first and explain them
later.
I delight in fishing and have spent many happy hours fishing for trout In
the clear waters of the Colorado streams; but, strange as it may seem, it
was not a memory of any of these which come into consciousness. Instead,
there came up memories of three different instances, each accompanied with
definite visual imagery, and in such rapid succession that I could hardly
tell which came first.
Six years ago last summer, I crossed the Ohio River to spend a day in
Carrolton, Kentucky, and on the way back, I bought some fish of a fisherman
at the river's edge. This man was barefooted and wore a little greasy wool
hat and very ragged clothes. I remember thinking at the time that his work
must be very degrading, and that the river fisherman must be about the
lowest type in that part of the country. I especially noticed his feet and
legs, which were bare to the knees, and which were so sunburned that they
hardly looked like parts of a white man's body. In the analysis of this
dream, the image of the man as he stood there and the memory of the incident
came back with great vividness.
A year or two later, my brother and I were riding along the road at about
the same place, and we met a very miserable-looking specimen of humanity,
driving a poor limping horse to a rickety wagon in which were some pieces of
driftwood. My brother was in a "spell of the blues" at this time, and he
remarked that he was coming to just that condition as fast as he could. The
image and memory of this incident also came into consciousness as if it had
been waiting repressed just under the surface.
The other memory was one in which I did not figure personally. A year or so
ago, my brother was telling me how he and his boy had gone to the river
several times and gone fishing with an old fisherman who lived there. My
nephew, like most boys, had a desire to become a fisherman or hunter, and my
brother had suspected that a little close acquaintance with the way a
fisherman lived would cure him of this desire; in this he was entirely
right, and after a few trips to visit the old fellow, he had expressed
himself as cured of any desire to live the beautiful, pleasant life of a
river fisherman.
Without going any further, it can easily be seen that a fisherman symbolizes
for me everything that is synonymous with failure. Thus, when I stepped out
into the muddy water and began fishing I symbolically became a failure, a
no-account, a man who had failed in the struggle and had not achieved
success. The very fact that we came DOWN HILL to the place of fishing
shows, on the face of it, that a downhill career is symbolized. My brother
was with me, and that is easily explained as a dramatization of the fact
that I was accompanying him on that downhill road to the state of the man in
the rickety wagon which he had prophesied as his future. The water in the
shallow pools was muddy, and I stepped into it just after experiencing a
fear that I would get my shoes wet. Remembering the fisherman's bare brown
feet, this can be interpreted as nothing but a very strong symbolization of
a drop from a cultured and successful circle to a low and unsuccessful one.
I grasp a fish bigger than myself and struggle with it, but am compelled to
give it up. Another symbol: my work is plainly too big for me; this
question is too much for me to handle, and this thesis will ultimately have
to be given up as the big fish is. In fact, I cannot say that I succeeded in
getting ANY fish out of the water and, therefore, I shall never succeed at
anything I undertake, but will land figuratively, if not actually, in the
fisherman's hut.
The Mr. N. who was with us, was cross-eyed which, in itself, seemed to have
no special meaning; but it immediately called up an image of a cross-eyed
man standing at the river's edge at Vevay, Indiana. This fellow was the
picture of ignorance and want. He was telling another man about catching a
big fish a few days before and how he liked that kind of fish boiled so
well, but he could not wait for it to boil, but had fried part of it and
eaten it that way. As I heard him relate this and watched his face, the
whole event seemed to me to be most disgusting. As I was watching him, some
one at my side told me that, because of a drunken spree, he had been
disfranchised. He was also a fisherman and another typical specimen of the
class. Mr. N., having the same facial defect, though in a much less
noticeable way, became identified with him, and I am again found walking
down the hill to oblivion in company with this brother in distress. This is
bad for Mr. N., but it cannot be helped.
The rainbows seem bright enough, but they bring in another disquieting group
of associations. The rainbow is almost, if not quite, a universal symbol of
failure. We all know the old story of going to the end of the rainbow for a
pot of gold, and if we want to belittle any effort we say that the
individual is chasing the rainbow. So here I am again on the downhill road
between two failures, following the rainbow to a hopeless condition of muddy
uselessness. And if it were not bad enough to be following one rainbow, I am
following a great number which must mean that I shall always end in failure
whatever I undertake.
But, besides this, the rainbow has special associations for me. The first of
these associations which came into consciousness was a little booklet made
by a Latin student and handed her professor. I had several years of Greek
and Latin under this teacher and at a certain place in the course, he asked
each student to make a little booklet of some kind, using as much
originality as possible, copy some favorite quotations from De Senectute and
hand in the finished product. Every year he gets these out and exhibits them
as a kind of inspiration. One of them had a rainbow and a pot of gold on the
cover. I spent a great deal of time and work on mine and made a more
elaborate booklet than any other that had been made, but I purposely left it
unfinished and inscribed a statement that this was to typify the kind of
work I did in that department. Of course it was a joke, but I have often
thought that there was method in this madness, and that it really
approximated the true state of affairs. This seeming chance association,
then, is closely connected with my fear of making a failure which is so
clearly dramatized in this dream.
The fact that the dream is placed in Colorado is also important. Two years
ago, I spent the summer in Colorado and had a very delightful time, as was
natural, being on a wedding trip. But during this stay, I did make a total
failure at fishing. I had been a fairly successful trout fisher a few years
before, but I had forgotten the art and did not do enough fishing to
relearn. In other words, my dream gives me to understand that I cannot be
successful even in fishing. One evening my bride and I witnessed a most
beautiful sunset, a rainbow figuring largely in the scene. At this time we
were debating whether or not to go on farther West as I had originally
planned; but circumstances prevented this and instead of going on farther,
we came back East or toward the rainbow. This is just one more place where
the dream so clearly symbolizes a failure to do what I undertake. I will
not carry the analysis any further, though I could find associations by the
hundred which would strengthen the meaning given.
Of course I am not at all conscious of having any such fear as this. In fact
I am rather inclined to be over-confident; but this is, of course, due to
the repressing influence of the censor and only strengthens the analysis.
Examples could be given until the last trump is sounded and the world rolled
up like a scroll, but I do not want to keep any one so long. Whatever we
wish to make out of a dream--the dramatization of a fear, a joy, a joke
(really this is what the Freudians often do), a tragedy, anything that can
be suggested, the result can easily be accomplished if only we be allowed
the use of Freud's mechanisms and a moderate amount of symbolism.
I have tried to show: First, that any situation or experience can be
analyzed with as good success as a dream, and second, that a dream may be
made to mean anything. In other words, with Freud's method, one can
demonstrate anything to suit his taste or belief. Long ago, the saying was
formulated that all roads lead to Rome. This being true, it must also be
true that all roads lead everywhere else. Freud employs a wonderful figure
of a mystical sphere, with its layers and cross veins and other
mineralogical characteristics, to represent the part of consciousness with
the repressed factor at the center well guarded. It would be far more to the
point if he should represent the whole of past experience as the surface of
a country, with its various roads connecting the different centers. The
stations would then represent the experiences, and the roads the association
tracks between them. If one should travel at random over these roads, he
would in time pass through all kinds of towns and cities, but if he started
in quest of a certain type, say mountain villages, he would arrive at his
goal much more quickly than he would otherwise. The Freudians themselves
acknowledge that they have difficulty in knowing when to stop the analysis.
Their plan seems to be to travel until the landscape suits them and then get
off and camp.
Thus, while I have made no attempt to give positive proof or argument that
Freud's theory, in its extreme form is at fault, I have tried to
substantiate my argument that there has been no real argument on the other
side. And when a theory so spectacular and altogether out of the ordinary
is presented, the burden of the proof should very decidedly be thrown on the
positive side. We have no obligation or even excuse for accepting such a
theory on the mere presumption of the originator.
And that Freud's theory is weird and fantastic is a self-evident fact.
Perhaps the Clark University student who very carefully worked it up a few
years ago went a little too far when he said it was a chaotic inferno, but
at any rate, it is far removed from celestial harmony. Sidis takes about the
sanest attitude possible when he refers to certain Freudian writings as
being full of unconscious sexual humor. He observes further as does Prince
and others that the Freudian school is in reality a religious or
philosophical sect. He says that Freud's writings constitute the
psychoanalytic Bible and are quoted with reverence and awe. Kronfeld, in a
most valuable criticism, says that in comparison with Freud's conception of
the vorconscious and its work, Henroth's Demonomania appears a modest
scientific theory.
The attitude of the Freudians is, itself, worth noticing. They are very
prone to consider any criticism as very personal, and fly to the rescue with
all the fervor of a religious fanatic. A work on dreams, because it does not
bear out Freud in all details, calls forth thunderbolts from two continents.
This over-anxious attitude indicates that the belief in the theory is based
on an emotional condition rather than logical reasoning. Bernard Hart, who
is one of those happy individuals who get the best out of Freudianism, shows
the difference between the two kinds of belief by comparing our belief that
the earth goes around the sun and that the man who abuses a woman is a cad.
The cold, indifferent attitude toward the former is in marked contrast to
our warm lively interest in the latter, and the reason is that the belief in
the one is founded on scientific demonstration and in the other on our
feeling in the matter. If we allow this as a gauge by which to measure, it
is not difficult to place the Freudians.
We must not overlook the immense opportunity for suggestion in the work of
psychoanalysis, both on the subject and the one who is in the work. The
Freudians vehemently deny that any of the results of dream analysis are
suggested into the mind of the dreamer, but the evidences are all on the
other side. Freud, in referring to psychoanalysis of hysterical patients,
says, "It is not possible to press upon the patient things which he
apparently does not know, or to influence the results of the analysis by
exciting his expectations." Such an attitude is fatal when it comes to a
question of accurate work. And no less important is the self-suggestion
practiced by the Freudians. When we read of Freud's long struggle in an
attempt to find something which he felt surely was to be found, we see that
he had abundant opportunity to acquire almost an obsession. The long years
since, which he has spent in analyzing dreams and making them all come out
right some way, would serve to more firmly ground his conviction, and the
same is true of his disciples. Put a man to drawing square moons for ten
years, and at the end of the time he will swear that the moon is square.
A large portion of the scientific world seems to have gone mad over the term
"psychoanalysis." But this kind of work has been done by all peoples and
times under different names. There can be no objection to such an analysis
of a dream if it is done by the right person. The dream may be used to aid
the dreamer in finding out his own life, it is true, and when we understand
psychoanalysis as this process, and only this, it is not objectionable. But
if such is the case there is no need of all the mechanism and symbolism. The
preacher who uses the Old Testament stories of the wars with the Philistines
to illustrate a moral struggle is not to be criticised; but if he maintains
that they were written for that purpose, we should hardly feel inclined to
accept his position. A very inspiring message might be builded on the text,
"The ants are a people not strong, but they prepare their meat in the
summer"; but it is hardly possible that such thoughts were in the mind of
the writer. Just so, a dream or a story or any other situation may be used
to open the locked doors of a life, but to say that the dream has slipped
stealthily out of the keyholes and over the transoms and wonderfully,
mysteriously and magically clothed itself is quite another matter.