As a matter of fact we have already met with a convincing example of the

significance of an absurd dream. The dream, interpreted without

analysis, of the Wagnerian performance lasting until 7.45 in the

morning, in which the orchestra is conducted from a tower, &c. (see p.

316) is apparently trying to say: It is a _crazy_ world and an _insane_

society. He who deserves a thing doesn’t get it, and he who doesn’t care

for anything has it—and in this she means to compare her fate with that

of her cousin. The fact that dreams concerning a dead father were the

first to furnish us with examples of absurdity in dreams is by no means

an accident. The conditions necessary for the creations of absurd dreams

are here grouped together in a typical manner. The authority belonging

to the father has at an early age aroused the criticism of the child,

and the strict demands he has made have caused the child to pay

particularly close attention to every weakness of the father for its own

extenuation; but the piety with which the father’s personality is

surrounded in our thoughts, especially after his death, increases the

censorship which prevents the expressions of this criticism from

becoming conscious.

IV. The following is another absurd dream about a dead father:

_I receive a notice from the common council of my native city concerning

the costs of a confinement in the hospital in the year 1851, which was

necessitated by an attack from which I suffered. I make sport of the

matter, for, in the first place, I was not yet alive in the year 1851,

and, in the second place, my father, to whom the notice might refer, is

already dead. I go to him in the adjoining room, where he is lying on a

bed, and tell him about it. To my astonishment he recalls that in that

year—1851—he was once drunk and had to be locked up or confined. It was

when he was working for the house of T——. “Then you drank, too?” I ask.

“You married soon after?” I figure that I was born in 1856, which

appears to me as though immediately following._

In view of the preceding discussion, we shall translate the insistence

with which this dream exhibits its absurdities as the sure sign of a

particularly embittered and passionate controversy in the dream

thoughts. With all the more astonishment, however, we note that in this

dream the controversy is waged openly, and the father designated as the

person against whom the satire is directed. This openness seems to

contradict our assumption of a censor as operative in the dream

activity. We may say in explanation, however, that here the father is

only an interposed person, while the conflict is carried on with another

one, who makes his appearance in the dream by means of a single

allusion. While the dream usually treats of revolt against other

persons, behind which the father is concealed, the reverse is true here;

the father serves as the man of straw to represent others, and hence the

dream dares thus openly to concern itself with a person who is usually

hallowed, because there is present the certain knowledge that he is not

in reality intended. We learn of this condition of affairs by

considering the occasion of the dream. Now, it occurred after I had

heard that an older colleague, whose judgment is considered infallible,

had expressed disapproval and astonishment at the fact that one of my

patients was then continuing psychoanalytical work with me for the fifth

year. The introductory sentences of the dream point with transparent

disguise to the fact that this colleague had for a time taken over the

duties which my father could no longer perform (_expenses, fees at the

hospital_); and when our friendly relations came to be broken I was

thrown into the same conflict of feelings which arises in the case of

misunderstanding between father and son in view of the part played by

the father and his earlier functions. The dream thoughts now bitterly

resent the reproach that I _am not making better progress_, which

extends itself from the treatment of this patient to other things. Does

this colleague know anyone who can get on faster? Does he not know that

conditions of this sort are usually incurable and last for life? What

are four or five years in comparison to a whole life, especially when

life has been made so much easier for the patient during the treatment?

The impression of absurdity in this dream is brought about largely by

the fact that sentences from different divisions of the dream thoughts

are strung together without any reconciling transition. Thus the

sentence, _I go to him in the adjoining room, &c._, leaves the subject

dealt with in the preceding sentences, and faithfully reproduces the

circumstances under which I told my father about my marriage engagement.

Thus the dream is trying to remind me of the noble disinterestedness

which the old man showed at that time, and to put it in contrast with

the conduct of another, a new person. I now perceive that the dream is

allowed to make sport of my father for the reason that in the dream

thought he is held up as an example to another man, in full recognition

of his merit. It is in the nature of every censorship that it permits

the telling of untruth about forbidden things rather than truth. The

next sentence, in which my father remembers having _once been drunk_,

and having been _locked up for it_, also contains nothing which is

actually true of my father. The person whom he covers is here a no less

important one than the great Meynert, in whose footsteps I followed with

such great veneration, and whose attitude towards me was changed into

undisguised hostility after a short period of indulgence. The dream

recalls to me his own statement that in his youth he was addicted to the

_chloroform_ habit, and that for this he had to enter a sanatorium. It

recalls also a second experience with him shortly before his death. I

carried on an embittered literary controversy with him concerning

hysteria in the male, the existence of which he denied, and when I

visited him in his last illness and asked him how he felt, he dwelt upon

the details of his condition and concluded with the words: “You know, I

have always been one of the prettiest cases of masculine hysteria.”

Thus, to my satisfaction, and _to my astonishment_, he admitted what he

had so long and so stubbornly opposed. But the fact that in this scene I

can use my father to cover Meynert is based not upon the analogy which

has been found to exist between the two persons, but upon the slight,

but quite adequate, representation of a conditional sentence occurring

in the dream thoughts, which in full would read as follows: “Of course

if I were of the second generation, the son of a professor or of a

court-councillor, I should have _progressed more rapidly_.” In the dream

I now make a court-councillor and a professor of my father. The most

obvious and most annoying absurdity of the dream lies in the treatment

of the date 1851, which seems to me to be hardly distinguishable from

1856, as though _a difference of five years would signify nothing

whatever_. But it is just this idea of the dream thoughts which requires

expression. _Four or five years_—that is the length of time which I

enjoyed the support of the colleague mentioned at the outset; but it is

also the time during which I kept my bride waiting before I married her;

and, through a coincidence that is eagerly taken advantage of by the

dream thoughts, it is also the time during which I am now keeping one of

my best patients waiting for the completion of his cure. “_What are five

years?_” ask the dream thoughts. “_That is no time at all for me—that

doesn’t come into consideration._ I have time enough ahead of me, and

just as what you didn’t want to believe came true at last, so I shall

accomplish this also.” Besides the number 51, when separated from the

number of the century, is determined in still another manner and in an

opposite sense; for which reason it occurs in the dream again. Fifty-one

is an age at which a man seems particularly exposed to danger, at which

I have seen many of my colleagues suddenly die, and among them one who

had been appointed to a professorship a few days before, after he had

been waiting a long time.

V. Another absurd dream which plays with figures, runs as follows:

_One of my acquaintances, Mr. M., has been attacked in an essay by no

less a person than Goethe, with justifiable vehemence, we all think. Mr.

M. has, of course, been crushed by this attack. He complains of it

bitterly at a dinner party; but he says that his veneration for Goethe

has not suffered from this personal experience. I try to find some

explanation of the chronological relations, which seem improbable to me.

Goethe died in 1832; since his attack upon M. must of course have taken

place earlier, Mr. M. was at the time a very young man. It seems

plausible to me that he was 18 years old. But I do not know exactly what

year it is at present, and so the whole calculation lapses into

obscurity. The attack, moreover, is contained in Goethe’s well-known

essay entitled “Nature.”_

We shall soon find means to justify the nonsense of this dream. Mr. M.,

with whom I became acquainted _at a dinner-party_, had recently

requested me to examine his brother, who showed signs of _paralytic

insanity_. The conjecture was right; the painful thing about this visit

was that the patient exposed his brother by alluding to his youthful

pranks when there was no occasion in the conversation for his doing so.

I had asked the patient to tell me the year of his birth, and had got

him to make several small calculations in order to bring out the

weakness of his memory—all of which tests he passed fairly well. I see

now that I am acting like a paralytic in the dream (_I do not know

exactly what year it is at present_). Other subject-matter in the dream

is drawn from another recent source. The editor of a medical journal, a

friend of mine, had accepted for his paper a very unfavourable, a

“_crushing_,” criticism of the last book of my friend Fl. of Berlin, the

author of which was a very _youthful_ reviewer, who was not very

competent to pass judgment. I thought I had a right to interfere, and

called the editor to account; he keenly regretted the acceptance of the

criticism, but would not promise redress. Thereupon I broke off

relations with the journal, and in my letter of resignation expressed

the hope that _our personal relations would not suffer from the

incident_. The third source of this dream is an account given by a

female patient—it was fresh in my memory at the time—of the mental

disease of her brother who had fallen into a frenzy, crying “Nature,

Nature.” The physicians in attendance thought that the cry was derived

from a reading of Goethe’s beautiful _essay_, and that it pointed to

overwork in the patient in the study of natural philosophy. I thought

rather of the sexual sense in which even less cultured people with us

use the word “Nature,” and the fact that the unfortunate man later

mutilated his genitals seemed to show that I was not far wrong. Eighteen

years was the age of this patient at the time when the attack of frenzy

occurred.

If I add further that the book of my friend so severely criticised (“It

is a question whether the author is crazy or we are” had been the

opinion of another critic) treats of the _temporal relations of life_

and refers the duration of Goethe’s life to the multiple of a number

significant from the point of view of biology, it will readily be

admitted that I am putting myself in the place of my friend in the

dream. (_I try to find some explanation of the chronological

relations._) But I behave like a paralytic, and the dream revels in

absurdity. This means, then, as the dream thoughts say ironically. “Of

course he is the fool, the lunatic, and you are the man of genius who

knows better. Perhaps, however, it is the other way around?” Now, this

other way around is explicitly represented in the dream, in that Goethe

has attacked the young man, which is absurd, while it is perfectly

possible even to-day for a young fellow to attack the immortal Goethe,

and in that I figure from the year of Goethe’s death, while I caused the

paralytic to calculate from the year of his birth.

But I have already promised to show that every dream is the result of

egotistical motives. Accordingly, I must account for the fact that in

this dream I make my friend’s cause my own and put myself in his place.

My rational conviction in waking thought is not adequate to do this.

Now, the story of the eighteen-year-old patient and of the various

interpretations of his cry, “Nature,” alludes to my having brought

myself into opposition to most physicians by claiming sexual etiology

for the psychoneuroses. I may say to myself: “The same kind of criticism

your friend met with you will meet with too, and have already met with

to some extent,” and now I may replace the “he” in the dream thoughts by

“we.” “Yes, you are right; we two are the fools.” That _mea res agitur_,

is clearly shown by the mention of the short, incomparably beautiful

essay of Goethe, for it was a public reading of this essay which induced

me to study the natural science while I was still undecided in the

graduating class of the Gymnasium.

VI. I am also bound to show of another dream in which my ego does not

occur that it is egotistic. On page 228 I mentioned a short dream in

which Professor M. says: “My son, the myopic ...”; and I stated that

this was only a preliminary dream to another one, in which I play a

part. Here is the main dream, omitted above, which challenges us to

explain its absurd and unintelligible word-formation.

_On account of some happenings or other in the city of Rome it is

necessary for the children to flee, and this they do. The scene is then

laid before a gate, a two-winged gate in antique style (the Porta Romana

in Siena, as I know while I am still dreaming). I am sitting on the edge

of a well, and am very sad; I almost weep. A feminine person—nurse,

nun—brings out the two boys and hands them over to their father, who is

not myself. The elder of the two is distinctly my eldest son, and I do

not see the face of the other; the woman who brings the boy asks him for

a parting kiss. She is distinguished by a red nose. The boy denies her

the kiss, but says to her, extending his hand to her in parting, “Auf

Geseres,” and to both of us (or to one of us) “Auf Ungeseres.” I have

the idea, that the latter indicates an advantage._

This dream is built upon a tangle of thoughts induced by a play I saw at

the theatre, called _Das neue Ghetto_ (“The New Ghetto.”) The Jewish

question, anxiety about the future of my children who cannot be given a

native country of their own, anxiety about bringing them up so that they

may have the right of native citizens—all these features may easily be

recognised in the accompanying dream thoughts.

“We sat by the waters of Babylon and wept.” Siena, like Rome, is famous

for its beautiful fountains. In the dream I must find a substitute of

some kind for Rome (_cf._ p. 163) in localities which are known to me.

Near the Porta Romana of Siena we saw a large, brightly illuminated

building, which we found to be the Manicomio, the insane asylum. Shortly

before the dream I had heard that a co-religionist had been forced to

resign a position at a state asylum which he had secured with great

effort.

Our interest is aroused by the speech: “_Auf Geseres_”—where we might

expect, from the situation maintained throughout the dream, “_Auf

Wiedersehen_” (_Au revoir_)—and by its quite meaningless opposite, “_Auf

Ungeseres_.”

According to information I have received from Hebrew scholars, _Geseres_

is a genuine Hebrew word derived from the verb _goiser_, and may best be

rendered by “ordained sufferings, fated disaster.” From its use in the

Jewish jargon one might think it signified “wailing and lamentation.”

_Ungeseres_ is a coinage of my own and first attracts my attention; but

for the present it baffles me. The little observation at the end of the

dream, that _Ungeseres_ indicates an advantage over _Geseres_ opens the

way to the associations and to an explanation. The same relation holds

good with caviare; the unsalted kind[EU] is more highly prized than the

salted. Caviare to the general, “noble passions”; herein lies concealed

a joking allusion to a member of my household, of whom I hope—for she is

younger than I—that she will watch over the future of my children; this,

too, agrees with the fact that another member of my household, our

worthy nurse, is clearly indicated in the nurse (or nun) of the dream.

But a connecting link is wanting between the pair, _salted_ and

_unsalted_, and _Geseres—ungeseres_. This is to be found in _soured and

unsoured_. In their flight or exodus out of Egypt, the children of

Israel did not have time to allow their bread to be leavened, and in

memory of the event to this day they eat unsoured bread at Easter time.

Here I can also find room for the sudden notion which came to me in this

part of the analysis. I remembered how we promenaded about the city of

Breslau, which was strange to us, at the end of the Easter holidays, my

friend from Berlin and I. A little girl asked me to tell her the way to

a certain street; I had to tell her I did not know it, whereupon I

remarked to my friend, “I hope that later on in life the little one will

show more perspicacity in selecting the persons by whom she allows

herself to be guided.” Shortly afterwards a sign caught my eye: “Dr.

_Herod_, office hours....” I said to myself: “I hope this colleague does

not happen to be a children’s specialist.” Meanwhile my friend had been

developing his views on the biological significance of _bilateral_

symmetry, and had begun a sentence as follows: “If we had but one eye in

the middle of our foreheads like _Cyclops_....” This leads us to the

speech of the professor in the preliminary dream: “My son, the

_myopic_.” And now I have been led to the chief source for _Geseres_.

Many years ago, when this son of Professor M., who is to-day an

independent thinker, was still sitting on his school-bench, he

contracted a disease of the eye, which the doctor declared gave cause

for anxiety. He was of the opinion that as long as it remained in one

eye it would not matter; if, however, it should extend to the other eye,

it would be serious. The disease healed in the one eye without leaving

any bad effects; shortly afterwards, however, its symptoms actually

appeared in the other eye. The terrified mother of the boy immediately

summoned the physician to the seclusion of her country resort. But he

took _another view_ of the matter. “_What sort of ‘Geseres’ is this you

are making?_” he said to his mother with impatience. “If one side got

well, the other side will get well too.” And so it turned out.

And now as to the connection between this and myself and those dear to

me. The school-bench upon which the son of Professor M. learned his

first lessons has become the property of my eldest son—it was given to

his mother-into whose lips I put the words of parting in the dream. One

of the wishes that can be attached to this transference may now easily

be guessed. This school-bench is intended by its construction to guard

the child from becoming shortsighted and one-sided. Hence, myopia (and

behind the Cyclops) and the discussion about _bilateralism_. The concern

about one-sidedness is of two-fold signification; along with the bodily

one-sidedness, that of intellectual development may be referred to. Does

it not seem as though the scene in the dream, with all its madness, were

putting its negative on just this anxiety? After the child has said his

word of parting _on the one side_, he calls out its opposite on the

_other side_, as though in order to establish an equilibrium. _He is

acting, as it were, in obedience to bilateral symmetry!_

Thus the dream frequently has the profoundest meaning in places where it

seems most absurd. In all ages those who had something to say and were

unable to say it without danger to themselves gladly put on the cap and

bells. The listener for whom the forbidden saying was intended was more

likely to tolerate it if he was able to laugh at it, and to flatter

himself with the comment that what he disliked was obviously something

absurd. The dream proceeds in reality just as the prince does in the

play who must counterfeit the fool, and hence the same thing may be said

of the dream which Hamlet says of himself, substituting an

unintelligible witticism for the real conditions: “I am but mad

north-north-west; when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a

handsaw.”[EV]

Thus my solution of the problem of the absurdity of dreams is that the

dream thoughts are never absurd—at least not those belonging to the

dreams of sane persons—and that the dream activity produces absurd

dreams and dreams with individual absurd elements if criticism,

ridicule, and derision in the dream thoughts are to be represented by it

in its manner of expression. My next concern is to show that the dream

activity is primarily brought about by the co-operation of the three

factors which have been mentioned—and of a fourth one which remains to

be cited—that it accomplishes nothing short of a transposition of the

dream thoughts, observing the three conditions which are prescribed for

it, and that the question whether the mind operates in the dream with

all its faculties, or only with a portion of them, is deprived of its

cogency and is inapplicable to the actual circumstances. But since there

are plenty of dreams in which judgments are passed, criticisms made, and

facts recognised, in which astonishment at some single element of the

dream appears, and arguments and explanations are attempted, I must meet

the objections which may be inferred from these occurrences by the

citation of selected examples.

My answer is as follows: _Everything in the dream which occurs as an

apparent exercise of the critical faculty is to be regarded, not as an

intellectual accomplishment of the dream activity, but as belonging to

the material of the dream thoughts, and it has found its way from them

as a finished structure to the manifest dream content_. I may go even

further than this. Even the judgments which are passed upon the dream as

it is remembered after awakening and the feelings which are aroused by

the reproduction of the dream, belong in good part to the latent dream

content, and must be fitted into their place in the interpretation of

the dream.

I. A striking example of this I have already given. A female patient

does not wish to relate her dream because it is too vague. She has seen

a person in the dream, and does not know whether it is her husband or

her father. Then follows a second dream fragment in which there occurs a

“manure-can,” which gives rise to the following reminiscence. As a young

housewife, she once jokingly declared in the presence of a young

relative who frequented the house that her next care would be to procure

a new manure-can. The next morning one was sent to her, but it was

filled with lilies of the valley. This part of the dream served to

represent the saying, “Not grown on your own manure.”[EW] When we

complete the analysis we find that in the dream thoughts it is a matter

of the after-effects of a story heard in youth, to the effect that a

girl had given birth to a child _concerning whom it was not clear who

was the real father_. The dream representation here goes over into the

waking thought, and allows one element of the dream thoughts to be

represented by a judgment expressed in the waking state upon the whole

dream.

II. A similar case: One of my patients has a dream which seems

interesting to him, for he says to himself immediately after awakening:

“_I must tell that to the doctor_.” The dream is analysed, and shows the

most distinct allusion to an affair in which he had become involved

during the treatment, and of which he had decided “_to tell me

nothing_.”[EX]

III. Here is a third example from my own experience:

_I go to the hospital with P. through a region in which houses and

gardens occur. With this comes the idea that I have already seen this

region in dreams several times. I do not know my way very well; P. shows

me a way which leads through a corner to a restaurant (a room, not a

garden); here I ask for Mrs. Doni, and I hear that she is living in the

background in a little room with three children. I go there, and while

on the way I meet an indistinct person with my two little girls, whom I

take with me after I have stood with them for a while. A kind of

reproach against my wife for having left them there._

The Interpretation of Dreams · 第 31 / 50 段