there are so many dreams of painful content, and especially dreams of
fear. We see here, for the first time, the problem of the affects in the
dream, a problem worthy of separate investigation, but which
unfortunately cannot be considered here. If the dream is a
wish-fulfillment, painful experiences ought to be impossible in the
dream; in that the lay-critics apparently are right. But three
complications, not thought of by them, must be taken into consideration.
First: It may be that the dream work has not been successful in creating
a wish-fulfillment, so that a part of the painful effect of the
dream-thought is left over for the manifest dream. Analysis should then
show that these thoughts were far more painful even than the dream which
was built out of them. This much may be proved in each instance. We
admit, then, that the dream work has not achieved its purpose any more
than the drink-dream due to the thirst-stimulus has achieved its purpose
of satisfying the thirst. One remains thirsty, and must wake up in order
to drink. But it was a real dream, it sacrificed nothing of its nature.
We must say: "Although strength be lacking, let us praise the will to
do." The clearly recognizable intention, at least, remains praiseworthy.
Such cases of miscarriage are not unusual. A contributory cause is this,
that it is so much more difficult for the dream work to change affect
into content in its own sense; the affects often show great resistance,
and thus it happens that the dream work has worked the painful content
of the dream-thoughts over into a wish-fulfillment, while the painful
affect continues in its unaltered form. Hence in dreams of this type the
affect does not fit the content at all, and our critics may say the
dream is so little a wish-fulfillment that a harmless content may be
experienced as painful. In answer to this unintelligible remark we say
that the wish-fulfillment tendency in the dream-work appears most
prominent, because isolated, in just such dreams. The error is due to
the fact that he who does not know neurotics imagines the connection
between content and affect as all too intimate, and cannot, therefore,
grasp the fact that a content may be altered without any corresponding
change in the accompanying affect-expression.
A second, far more important and more extensive consideration, equally
disregarded by the layman, is the following: A wish-fulfillment
certainly must bring pleasure--but to whom? Naturally, to him who has
the wish. But we know from the dreamer that he stands in a very special
relationship to his wishes. He casts them aside, censors them, he will
have none of them. Their fulfillment gives him no pleasure, but only the
opposite. Experience then shows that this opposite, which must still be
explained, appears in the form of fear. The dreamer in his relation to
his dream-wishes can be compared only to a combination of two persons
bound together by some strong common quality. Instead of further
explanations I shall give you a well-known fairy tale, in which you will
again find the relationships I have mentioned. A good fairy promises a
poor couple, husband and wife, to fulfill their first three wishes. They
are overjoyed, and determine to choose their three wishes with great
care. But the woman allows herself to be led astray by the odor of
cooking sausages emanating from the next cottage, and wishes she had a
couple of such sausages. Presto! they are there. This is the first
wish-fulfillment. Now the husband becomes angry, and in his bitterness
wishes that the sausages might hang from the end of her nose. This, too,
is accomplished, and the sausages cannot be removed from their new
location. So this is the second wish-fulfillment, but the wish is that
of the husband. The wife is very uncomfortable because of the
fulfillment of this wish. You know how the fairy tale continues. Since
both husband and wife are fundamentally one, the third wish must be that
the sausages be removed from the nose of the wife. We could make use of
this fairy tale any number of times in various connections; here it
serves only as an illustration of the possibility that the
wish-fulfillment for the one personality may lead to an aversion on the
part of the other, if the two do not agree with one another.
It will not be difficult now to come to a better understanding of the
anxiety-dream. We shall make one more observation, then we shall come to
a conclusion to which many things lead. The observation is that the
anxiety dreams often have a content which is entirely free from
distortion and in which the censorship is, so to speak, eluded. The
anxiety dream is ofttimes an undisguised wish-fulfillment, not, to be
sure, of an accepted, but of a discarded wish. The anxiety development
has stepped into the place of the censorship. While one may assert of
the infantile dream that it is the obvious fulfillment of a wish that
has gained admittance, and of the distorted dream that it is the
disguised fulfillment of a suppressed wish, he must say of the anxiety
dream that the only suitable formula is this, that it is the obvious
fulfillment of a suppressed wish. Anxiety is the mark which shows that
the suppressed wish showed itself stronger than the censorship, that it
put through its wish-fulfillment despite the censorship, or was about to
put it through. We understand that what is wish-fulfillment for the
suppressed wish is for us, who are on the side of the dream-censor, only
a painful sensation and a cause for antagonism. The anxiety which
occurs in dreams is, if you wish, anxiety because of the strength of
these otherwise suppressed wishes. Why this antagonism arises in the
form of anxiety cannot be discovered from a study of the dream alone;
one must obviously study anxiety from other sources.
What holds true for the undistorted anxiety dream we may assume to be
true also of those dreams which have undergone partial distortion, and
of the other dreams of aversion whose painful impressions very probably
denote approximations of anxiety. The anxiety dream is usually also a
dream that causes waking; we habitually interrupt sleep before the
suppressed wish of the dream has accomplished its entire fulfillment in
opposition to the censorship. In this case the execution of the dream is
unsuccessful, but this does not change its nature. We have likened the
dream to the night watchman or sleep-defender who wishes to protect our
sleep from being disturbed. The night watchman, too, sometimes wakes the
sleeper when he feels himself too weak to drive away the disturbance or
danger all by himself. Yet we are often able to remain asleep, even when
the dream begins to become suspicious, and begins to assume the form of
anxiety. We say to ourselves in our sleep: "It's only a dream," and we
sleep on.
When does it happen that the dream-wish is in a position to overpower
this censorship? The conditions for this may be just as easily furnished
by the dream-wish as by the dream-censorship. The wish may, for unknown
reasons, become irresistible; but one gets the impression that more
frequently the attitude of the dream censorship is to blame for this
disarrangement in the relations of the forces. We have already heard
that the censorship works with varying intensity in each single
instance, that it handles each element with a different degree of
strictness; now we should like to add the proposition that it is an
extremely variable thing and does not exert equal force on every
occasion against the same objectionable element. If on occasion the
censorship feels itself powerless with respect to a dream-wish which
threatens to over-ride it, then, instead of distortion, it makes use of
the final means at its disposal, it destroys the sleep condition by the
development of anxiety.
And now it occurs to us that we know absolutely nothing yet as to why
these evil, depraved wishes are aroused just at night, in order that
they may disturb our sleep. The answer can only be an assumption which
is based on the nature of the condition of sleep. During the day the
heavy pressure of a censorship weighs upon these wishes, making it
impossible, as a rule, for them to express themselves in any manner. At
night, evidently, this censorship is withdrawn for the benefit of the
single sleep-wish, in the same manner as are all the other interests of
psychic life, or at least placed in a position of very minor importance.
The forbidden wishes must thank this noctural deposition of the censor
for being able to raise their heads again. There are nervous persons
troubled with insomnia who admit that their sleeplessness was in the
beginning voluntary. They did not trust themselves to fall asleep,
because they were afraid of their dreams, that is, of the results due to
a slackening of the censorship. So you can readily see that this
withdrawal of the censor does not in itself signify rank carelessness.
Sleep weakens our power to move; our evil intentions, even if they do
begin to stir, can accomplish nothing but a dream, which for practical
purposes is harmless, and the highly sensible remark of the sleepers, a
night-time remark indeed, but not a part of the dream life, "it is only
a dream," is reminiscent of this quieting circumstance. So let us grant
this, and sleep on.
If, thirdly, you recall the concept that the dreamer, struggling against
his wishes, is to be compared to a summation of two separate persons, in
some manner closely connected, you will be able to grasp the further
possibility of how a thing which is highly unpleasant, namely,
punishment, may be accomplished by wish-fulfillment. Here again the
fairy tale of the three wishes can be of service to us: the sausages on
the plate are the direct wish-fulfillment of the first person, the
woman; the sausages at the end of her nose are the wish-fulfillment of
the second person, the husband, but at the same time the punishment for
the stupid wish of the woman. Among the neurotics we find again the
motivation of the third wish, which remains in fairy tales only. There
are many such punishment-tendencies in the psychic life of man; they are
very powerful, and we may make them responsible for some of our painful
dreams. Perhaps you now say that at this rate, not very much of the
famed wish-fulfillment is left. But upon closer view you will admit
that you are wrong. In contrast to the many-sided to be discussed, of
what the dream might be--and, according to numerous authors, is--the
solution (wish-fulfillment, anxiety-fulfillment, punishment-fulfillment)
is indeed very restricted. That is why anxiety is the direct antithesis
of the wish, why antitheses are so closely allied in association and why
they occur together in the unconscious, as we have heard; and that is
why punishment, too, is a wish-fulfillment of the other, the censoring
person.
On the whole, then, I have made no concessions to your protestation
against the theory of wish-fulfillment. We are bound, however, to
establish wish-fulfillment in every dream no matter how distorted, and
we certainly do not wish to withdraw from this task. Let us go back to
the dream, already interpreted, of the three bad theatre tickets for 1
Fl. 50 Kr. from which we have already learned so much. I hope you still
remember it. A lady who tells her husband during the day that her friend
Elise, only three months younger than herself, has become engaged,
dreams she is in the theatre with her husband. Half the parquet is
empty. Her husband says, "Elise and her fiance wanted to go to the
theatre, too, but couldn't because they could get only poor seats, three
for one gulden and a half." She was of the opinion that that wasn't so
unfortunate. We discovered that the dream-thought originated in her
discontent at having married too soon, and the fact that she was
dissatisfied with her husband. We may be curious as to the manner in
which these thoughts have been worked over into a wish-fulfillment, and
where their traces may be found in the manifest content. Now we know
that the element "too soon, premature" is eliminated from the dream by
the censor. The empty parquet is a reference to it. The puzzling "three
for 1 Fl. 50 Kr." is now, with the help of symbolism which we have since
learned, more understandable.[36] The "3" really means a husband, and
the manifest element is easy to translate: to buy a husband for her
dowry ("I could have bought one ten times better for my dowry"). The
marriage is obviously replaced by going into the theatre. "Buying the
tickets too soon" directly takes the place of the premature marriage.
This substitution is the work of the wish-fulfillment. Our dreamer was
not always so dissatisfied with her early marriage as she was on the day
she received news of the engagement of her friend. At the time she was
proud of her marriage and felt herself more favored than her friend.
Naive girls have frequently confided to their friends after their
engagement that soon they, too, will be able to go to all the plays
hitherto forbidden, and see everything. The desire to see plays, the
curiosity that makes its appearance here, was certainly in the beginning
directed towards sex matters, the sex-life, especially the sex-life of
the parents, and then became a strong motive which impelled the girl to
an early marriage. In this way the visit to the theatre becomes an
obvious representative substitute for being married. In the momentary
annoyance at her early marriage she recalls the time when the early
marriage was a wish-fulfillment for her, because she had satisfied her
curiosity; and she now replaces the marriage, guided by the old
wish-impulse, with the going to the theatre.
We may say that we have not sought out the simplest example as proof of
a hidden wish-fulfillment. We would have to proceed in analogous manner
with other distorted dreams. I cannot do that for you, and simply wish
to express the conviction that it will be successful everywhere. But I
wish to continue along this theoretical line. Experience has taught me
that it is one of the most dangerous phases of the entire dream science,
and that many contradictions and misunderstandings are connected
therewith. Besides, you are perhaps still under the impression that I
have retracted a part of my declaration, in that I said that the dream
is a fulfilled wish or its opposite, an actualized anxiety or
punishment, and you will think this is the opportunity to compel further
reservations of me. I have also heard complaints that I am too abrupt
about things which appear evident to me, and that for that reason I do
not present the thing convincingly enough.
If a person has gone thus far with us in dream-interpretation, and
accepted everything that has been offered, it is not unusual for him to
call a halt at wish-fulfillment, and say, "Granted that in every
instance the dream has a meaning, and that this meaning can be disclosed
by psychoanalytic technique, why must this dream, despite all evidence
to the contrary, always be forced into the formula of wish-fulfillment?
Why might not the meaning of this nocturnal thought be as many-sided as
thought is by day; why may not the dream in one case express a fulfilled
wish, in another, as you yourself say, the opposite thereof, an
actualized anxiety; or why may it not correspond to a resolution, a
warning, a reflection with its pro's and con's, a reproach, a goad to
conscience, an attempt to prepare oneself for a contemplated
performance, etc? Why always nothing more than a wish, or at best, its
opposite?"
One might maintain that a difference of opinion on these points is of no
great importance, so long as we are at one otherwise. We might say that
it is enough to have discovered the meaning of the dream, and the way to
recognize it; that it is a matter of no importance, if we have too
narrowly limited this meaning. But this is not so. A misunderstanding of
this point strikes at the nature of our knowledge of the dream, and
endangers its worth for the understanding of neuroses. Then, too, that
method of approach which is esteemed in the business world as genteel is
out of place in scientific endeavors, and harmful.
My first answer to the question why the dream may not be many-sided in
its meaning is the usual one in such instances: I do not know why it
should not be so. I would not be opposed to such a state of affairs. As
far as I am concerned, it could well be true. Only one small matter
prevents this broader and more comfortable explanation of the
dream--namely, that as a matter of fact it isn't so. My second answer
emphasizes the fact that the assumption that the dream corresponds to
numerous forms of thought and intellectual operations is no stranger to
me. In a story about a sick person I once reported a dream that occurred
three nights running and then stopped, and I explained this suppression
by saying that the dream corresponded to a resolution which had no
reason to recur after having been carried out. More recently I published
a dream which corresponded to a confession. How is it possible for me to
contradict myself, and maintain that the dream is always only a
fulfilled wish?
I do that, because I do not wish to admit a stupid misunderstanding
which might cost us the fruits of all our labors with regard to the
dream, a misunderstanding which confuses the dream with the latent
dream-thought and affirms of the dream something that applies
specifically and solely to the latter. For it is entirely correct that
the dream can represent, and be replaced by all those things we
enumerated: a resolution, a warning, reflection, preparation, an attempt
to solve a problem, etc. But if you look closely, you will recognize
that all these things are true only of the latent dream thoughts, which
have been changed about in the dream. You learn from the interpretation
of the dreams that the person's unconscious thinking is occupied with
such resolutions, preparations, reflections, etc., out of which the
dream-work then builds the dream. If you are not at the time interested
in the dream-work, but are very much interested in the unconscious
thought-work of man, you eliminate the dream-work, and say of the dream,
for all practical purposes quite correctly, that it corresponds to a
warning, a resolution, etc. This often happens in psychoanalytic
activity. People endeavor for the most part only to destroy the dream
form, and to substitute in its place in the sequence the latent thoughts
out of which the dream was made.
Thus we learn, from the appreciation of the latent dream-thoughts, that
all the highly complicated psychic acts we have enumerated can go on
unconsciously, a result as wonderful as it is confusing.
But to return, you are right only if you admit that you have made use of
an abbreviated form of speech, and if you do not believe that you must
connect the many-sidedness we have mentioned with the essence of the
dream. When you speak of the dream you must mean either the manifest
dream, i.e., the product of the dream-work, or at most the dream-work
itself--that psychic occurrence which forms the manifest dream out of
the latent dream thought. Any other use of the word is a confusion of
concept that can only cause trouble. If your assertions refer to the
latent thoughts back of the dream, say so, and do not cloud the problem
of the dream by using such a faulty means of expression. The latent
dream thoughts are the material which the dream-work remolds into the
manifest dream. Why do you insist upon confusing the material with the
work that makes use of it? Are you any better off than those who knew
only the product of this work, and could explain neither where it came
from nor how it was produced?
The only essential thing in the dream is the dream-work that has had
its influence upon the thought-material. We have no right to disregard
it theoretically even if, in certain practical situations, we may fail
to take it into account. Analytic observation, too, shows that the
dream-work never limits itself to translating these thoughts in the
archaic or regressive mode of expression known to you. Rather it
regularly adds something which does not belong to the latent thoughts of
waking, but which is the essential motive of dream-formation. This
indispensable ingredient is at the same time the unconscious wish, for
the fulfillment of which the dream content is rebuilt. The dream may be
any conceivable thing, if you take into account only the thoughts
represented by it, warning, resolution, preparation, etc.; it is also
always the fulfillment of an unknown wish, and it is this only if you
look upon it as the result of the dream-work. A dream is never itself a
resolution, a warning, and no more--but always a resolution, etc.,
translated into an archaic form of expression with the help of the
unconscious wish, and changed about for the purpose of fulfilling this
wish. The one characteristic, wish-fulfillment, is constant; the other
may vary; it may itself be a wish at times, so that the dream, with the
aid of an unconscious wish, presents as fulfilled a latent wish out of
waking hours.
I understand all this very well, but I do not know whether or not I
shall be successful in making you understand it as well. I have
difficulties, too, in proving it to you. This cannot be done without, on
the one hand, careful analysis of many dreams, and on the other hand
this most difficult and most important point of our conception of the
dream cannot be set forth convincingly without reference to things to
follow. Can you, in fact, believe that taking into consideration the
intimate relationship of all things, one is able to penetrate deeply
into the nature of one thing without having carefully considered other
things of a very similar nature? Since we know nothing as yet about the
closest relatives of the dream, neurotic symptoms, we must once again
content ourselves with what has already been accomplished. I want to
explain one more example to you, and propose a new viewpoint.