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: