INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
33
CHAPTER FOUR
Distortion in Dreams
If I now declare that wish-fulfilment is the meaning of every dream, so that
there cannot
be any dreams other than wish-dreams, I know beforehand that I shall meet with
the most
emphatic contradiction. My critics will object: `The fact that there are dreams
which are
to be understood as fulfilments of wishes is not new, but has long since been
recognised
by such writers as Radestock, Volkelt, Purkinje, Griesinger and others.1 That
there can be
no other dreams than those of wish-fulfilments is yet one more unjustified
generalisation;
which, fortunately, can be easily refuted. Dreams which present the most painful
content,
and not the least trace of wish-fulfilment, occur frequently enough. The
pessimistic
philosopher, Eduard von Hartmann, is perhaps most completely opposed to the
theory of
wish-fulfilment. In his Philosophy of the Unconscious, Part II (Stereotyped
German
edition, s. 344), he says: ``As regards the dream, with it all the troubles of
waking life
pass over into the sleeping state; all save the one thing which may in some
degree
reconcile the cultured person with life -- scientific and artistic enjoyment.. .
.'' But even
less pessimistic observers have emphasised the fact that in our dreams pain and
disgust
are more frequent than pleasure (Scholz, p. 33; Volkelt, p. 80, et al.). Two
ladies, Sarah
Weed and Florence Hallam, have even worked out, on the basis of their dreams, a
numerical value for the preponderance of distress and discomfort in dreams. They
find
that 58 per cent of dreams are disagreeable, and only 28.6 per cent positively
pleasant.
Besides those dreams that convey into our sleep the many painful emotions of
life, there
are also anxiety-dreams, in which this most terrible of all the painful emotions
torments
us until we wake. Now it is precisely by these anxiety-dreams that children are
so often
haunted (cf. Debacker on Pavor nocturnus); and yet it was in children that you
found the
wish-fulfilment dream in its most obvious form.'
The anxiety-dream does really seem to preclude a generalisation of the thesis
deduced
from the examples given in the last chapter, that dreams are wish-fulfilments,
and even to
condemn it as an absurdity.
Nevertheless, it is not difficult to parry these apparently invincible
objections. It is merely
necessary to observe that our doctrine is not based upon the estimates of the
obvious
dream-content, but relates to the thought-content, which, in the course of
interpretation, is
found to lie behind the dream. Let us compare and contrast the manifest and the
latent
dream-content. It is true that there are dreams the manifest content of which is
of the
most painful nature. But has anyone ever tried to interpret these dreams -- to
discover
their latent thought-content? If not, the two objections to our doctrine are no
longer valid;
for there is always the possibility that even our painful and terrifying dreams
may, upon
interpretation, prove to be wish-fulfilments.2
In scientific research it is often advantageous, if the solution of one problem
presents
difficulties, to add to it a second problem; just as it is easier to crack two
nuts together
instead of separately. Thus, we are confronted not only with the problem: How
can
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
34
painful and terrifying dreams be the fulfilments of wishes? but we may add to
this a
second problem which arises from the foregoing discussion of the general problem
of the
dream: Why do not the dreams that show an indifferent content, and yet turn out
to be
wish-fulfilments, reveal their meaning without disguise? Take the exhaustively
treated
dream of Irma's injection: it is by no means of a painful character, and it may
be
recognised, upon interpretation, as a striking wish-fulfilment. But why is an
interpretation
necessary at all? Why does not the dream say directly what it means? As a matter
of fact,
the dream of Irma's injection does not at first produce the impression that it
represents a
wish of the dreamer's as fulfilled. The reader will not have received this
impression, and
even I myself was not aware of the fact until I had undertaken the analysis. If
we call this
peculiarity of dreams -- namely, that they need elucidation -- the phenomenon of
distortion in dreams, a second question then arises: What is the origin of this
distortion in
dreams?
If one's first thoughts on this subject were consulted several possible
solutions might
suggest themselves: for example, that during sleep one is incapable of finding
an
adequate expression for one's dream-thoughts. The analysis of certain dreams,
however,
compels us to offer another explanation. I shall demonstrate this by means of a
second
dream of my own, which again involves numerous indiscretions, but which
compensates
for this personal sacrifice by affording a thorough elucidation of the problem.
Preliminary Statement -- In the spring of 1897 I learnt that two professors of
our
university had proposed me for the title of Professor extraordinarius (assistant
professor). The news came as a surprise to me, and pleased me considerably as an
expression of appreciation on the part of two eminent men which could not be
explained
by personal interest. But I told myself immediately that I must not expect
anything to
come of their proposal. For some years past the Ministry had disregarded such
proposals,
and several colleagues of mine, who were my seniors, and at least my equals in
desert,
had been waiting in vain all this time for the appointment. I had no reason to
suppose that
I should fare any better. I resolved, therefore, to resign myself to
disappointment. I am
not, so far as I know, ambitious, and I was following my profession with
gratifying
success even without the recommendation of a professorial title. Whether I
considered
the grapes to be sweet or sour did not matter, since they undoubtedly hung too
high for
me.
One evening a friend of mine called to see me; one of those colleagues whose
fate I had
regarded as a warning. As he had long been a candidate for promotion to the
professorate
(which in our society makes the doctor a demigod to his patients), and as he was
less
resigned than I, he was accustomed from time to time to remind the authorities
of his
claims in the hope of advancing his interests. It was after one of these visits
that he called
on me. He said that this time he had driven the exalted gentleman into a corner,
and had
asked him frankly whether considerations of religious denomination were not
really
responsible for the postponement of his appointment. The answer was: His
Excellency
had to admit that in the present state of public opinion he was not in a
position, etc. `Now
at least I know where I stand', my friend concluded his narrative, which told me
nothing
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
36
I have still no idea for what purpose I have worked out this relationship. It is
certainly
one to which I must unreservedly object. Yet it is not very profound, for my
uncle was a
criminal, and my friend R. is not, except in so far as he was once fined for
knocking
down an apprentice with his bicycle. Can I be thinking of this offence? That
would make
the comparison ridiculous. Here I recollect another conversation, which I had
some days
ago with another colleague, N.; as a matter of fact, on the same subject. I met
N. in the
street; he, too, has been nominated for a professorship, and having heard that I
had been
similarly honoured he congratulated me. I refused his congratulations, saying:
`You are
the last man to jest about the matter, for you know from your own experience
what the
nomination is worth.' Thereupon he said, though probably not in earnest: `You
can't be
sure of that. There is a special objection in my case. Don't you know that a
woman once
brought a criminal accusation against me? I need hardly assure you that the
matter was
put right. It was a mean attempt at blackmail, and it was all I could do to save
the plaintiff
from punishment. But it may be that the affair is remembered against me at the
Ministry.
You, on the other hand, are above reproach.' Here, then, I have the criminal,
and at the
same time the interpretation and tendency of my dream. My uncle Joseph
represents both
of my colleagues who have not been appointed to the professorship -- the one as
a
simpleton, the other as a criminal. Now, too, I know for what purpose I need
this
representation. If denominational considerations are a determining factor in the
postponement of my two friends' appointment, then my own appointment is likewise
in
jeopardy. But if I can refer the rejection of my two friends' to other causes,
which do not
apply to my own case, my hopes are unaffected. This is the procedure followed by
my
dream: it makes the one friend, R., a simpleton, and the other, N., a criminal.
But since I
am neither one nor the other, there is nothing in common between us. I have a
right to
enjoy my appointment to the title of professor, and have avoided the distressing
application to my own case of the information which the official gave to my
friend R.
I must pursue the interpretation of this dream still farther; for I have a
feeling that it is not
yet satisfactorily elucidated. I still feel disquieted by the ease with which I
have degraded
two respected colleagues in order to clear my own way to the professorship. My
dissatisfaction with this procedure has, of course, been mitigated since I have
learned to
estimate the testimony of dreams at its true value. I should contradict anyone
who
suggested that I really considered R. a simpleton, or that I did not believe
N.'s account of
the blackmailing incident. And of course I do not believe that Irma has been
made
seriously ill by an injection of a preparation of propyl administered by Otto.
Here, as
before, what the dream expresses is only my wish that things might be so. The
statement
in which my wish is realised sounds less absurd in the second dream than in the
first; it is
here made with a skilful use of actual points of support in establishing
something like a
plausible slander, one of which one could say `that there is something in it'.
For at that
time my friend R. had to contend with the adverse vote of a university professor
of his
own department, and my friend N. had himself, all unsuspectingly, provided me
with
material for the calumny. Nevertheless, I repeat, it still seems to me that the
dream
requires further elucidation.
I remember now that the dream contained yet another portion which has hitherto
been
ignored by the interpretation. After it occurred to me that my friend R. was my
uncle, I
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
37
felt in the dream a great affection for him. To whom is this feeling directed?
For my
uncle Joseph, of course, I have never had any feelings of affection. R. has for
many years
been a dearly loved friend, but if I were to go to him and express my affection
for him in
terms approaching the degree of affection which I felt in the dream, he would
undoubtedly be surprised. My affection, if it was for him, seems false and
exaggerated, as
does my judgment of his intellectual qualities, which I expressed by merging his
personality in that of my uncle; but exaggerated in the opposite direction. Now,
however,
a new state of affairs dawns upon me.
The affection in the dream does not belong to the latent content, to the
thoughts behind
the dream; it stands in opposition to this content; it is calculated to conceal
the knowledge
conveyed by the interpretation. Probably this is precisely its function. I
remember with
what reluctance I undertook the interpretation, how long I tried to postpone it,
and how I
declared the dream to be sheer nonsense. I know from my psychoanalytic practice
how
such a condemnation is to be interpreted. It has no informative value, but
merely
expresses an affect. If my little daughter does not like an apple which is
offered her, she
asserts that the apple is bitter, without even tasting it. If my patients behave
thus, I know
that we are dealing with an idea which they are trying to repress. The same
thing applies
to my dream. I do not want to interpret it because there is something in the
interpretation
to which I object. After the interpretation of the dream is completed, I
discover what it
was to which I objected; it was the assertion that R. is a simpleton. I can
refer the
affection which I feel for R. not to the latent dream-thoughts, but rather to
this
unwillingness of mine. If my dream, as compared with its latent content, is
disguised at
this point, and actually misrepresents things by producing their opposites, then
the
manifest affection in the dream serves the purpose of the misrepresentation; in
other
words, the distortion is here shown to be intentional -- it is a means of
disguise. My
dream-thoughts of R. are derogatory, and so that I may not become aware of this
the very
opposite of defamation -- a tender affection for him -- enters into the dream.
This discovery may prove to be generally valid. As the examples in Chapter Three
have
demonstrated, there are, of course, dreams which are undisguised wish-fulfilments.
Wherever a wish-fulfilment is unrecognisable and disguised there must be present
a
tendency to defend oneself against this wish, and in consequence of this defence
the wish
is unable to express itself save in a distorted form. I will try to find a
parallel in social life
to this occurrence in the inner psychic life. Where in social life can a similar
misrepresentation be found? Only where two persons are concerned, one of whom
possesses a certain power while the other has to act with a certain
consideration on
account of this power. The second person will then distort his psychic actions;
or, as we
say, he will mask himself. The politeness which I practise every day is largely
a disguise
of this kind; if I interpret my dreams for the benefit of my readers, I am
forced to make
misrepresentations of this kind. The poet even complains of the necessity of
such
misrepresentation: Das Beste, was du wissen kannst, darfst du den Buben doch
nicht
sagen; `The best that thou canst know thou mayst not tell to boys.'
The political writer who has unpleasant truths to tell to those in power finds
himself in a
like position. If he tells everything without reserve, the Government will
suppress them --
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
38
retrospectively in the case of a verbal expression of opinion, preventively if
they are to be
published in the press. The writer stands in fear of the censorship; he
therefore moderates
and disguises the expression of his opinions. He finds himself compelled, in
accordance
with the sensibilities of the censor, either to refrain altogether from certain
forms of
attack, or to express himself in allusions instead of by direct assertions; or
he must
conceal his objectionable statement in an apparently innocent disguise. He may,
for
instance, tell of a contretemps between two Chinese mandarins, while he really
has in
mind the officials of his own country. The stricter the domination of the
censorship, the
more thorough becomes the disguise, and, often enough, the more ingenious the
means
employed to put the reader on the track of the actual meaning.
The detailed correspondence between the phenomena of censorship and the
phenomena
of dream-distortion justifies us in presupposing similar conditions for both. We
should
then assume that in every human being there exist, as the primary cause of dream
formation, two psychic forces (tendencies or systems), one of which forms the
wish
expressed by the dream, while the other exercises a censorship over this
dream-wish,
thereby enforcing on it a distortion. The question is, what is the nature of the
authority of
this second agency by virtue of which it is able to exercise its censorship? If
we
remember that the latent dream-thoughts are not conscious before analysis, but
that the
manifest dream-content emerging from them is consciously remembered, it is not a
farfetched assumption that admittance to the consciousness is the prerogative of
the
second agency. Nothing can reach the consciousness from the first system which
has not
previously passed the second instance; and the second instance lets nothing pass
without
exercising its rights, and forcing such modifications as are pleasing to itself
upon the
candidates for admission to consciousness. Here we arrive at a very definite
conception
of the `essence' of consciousness; for us the state of becoming conscious is a
special
psychic act, different from and independent of the process of becoming fixed or
represented, and consciousness appears to us as a sensory organ which perceives
a
content proceeding from another source. It may be shown that psychopathology
simply
cannot dispense with these fundamental assumptions. But we shall reserve for
another
time a more exhaustive examination of the subject.
If I bear in mind the notion of the two psychic instances and their relation to
the
consciousness, I find in the sphere of politics a perfectly appropriate analogy
to the
extraordinary affection which I feel for my friend R., who is so disparaged in
the dreaminterpretation.
I refer to the political life of a State in which the ruler, jealous of his
rights,
and an active public opinion are in mutual conflict. The people, protesting
against the
actions of an unpopular official, demand his dismissal. The autocrat, on the
other hand, in
order to show his contempt for the popular will, may then deliberately confer
upon the
official some exceptional distinction which otherwise would not have been
conferred.
Similarly, my second instance, controlling the access to my consciousness,
distinguishes
my friend R. with a rush of extraordinary affection, because the wish-tendencies
of the
first system, in view of a particular interest on which they are just then
intent, would like
to disparage him as a simpleton.4
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
39
We may now perhaps begin to suspect that dream-interpretation is capable of
yielding
information concerning the structure of our psychic apparatus which we have
hitherto
vainly expected from philosophy. We shall not, however, follow up this trail,
but shall
return to our original problem as soon as we have elucidated the problem of
dreamdistortion.
The question arose, how dreams with a disagreeable content can be analysed
as wish-fulfilments. We see now that this is possible where a dream-distortion
has
occurred, when the disagreeable content serves only to disguise the thing wished
for.
With regard to our assumptions respecting the two psychic instances, we can now
also
say that disagreeable dreams contain, as a matter of fact, something which is
disagreeable
to the second instance, but which at the same time fulfils a wish of the first
instance.
They are wish-dreams in so far as every dream emanates from the first instance,
while the
second instance behaves towards the dream only in a defensive, not in a
constructive
manner.5 Were we to limit ourselves to a consideration of what the second
instance
contributes to the dream we should never understand the dream, and all the
problems
which the writers on the subject have discovered in the dream would have to
remain
unsolved.
That the dream actually has a secret meaning, which proves to be a wish-fulfilment,
must
be proved afresh in every case by analysis. I will therefore select a few dreams
which
have painful contents, and endeavour to analyse them. Some of them are dreams of
hysterical subjects, which therefore call for a long preliminary statement, and
in some
passages an examination of the psychic processes occurring in hysteria. This,
though it
will complicate the presentation, is unavoidable.
When I treat a psychoneurotic patient analytically, his dreams regularly, as I
have said,
become a theme of our conversations. I must therefore give him all the
psychological
explanations with whose aid I myself have succeeded in understanding his
symptoms.
And here I encounter unsparing criticism, which is perhaps no less shrewd than
that
which I have to expect from my colleagues. With perfect uniformity my patients
contradict the doctrine that dreams are the fulfilments of wishes. Here are
several
examples of the sort of dream-material which is adduced in refutation of my
theory.
`You are always saying that a dream is a wish fulfilled,' begins an intelligent
lady patient.
`Now I shall tell you a dream in which the content is quite the opposite, in
which a wish
of mine is not fulfilled. How do you reconcile that with your theory? The dream
was as
follows: I want to give a supper, but I have nothing available except some
smoked
salmon. I think I will go shopping, but I remember that it is Sunday afternoon,
when all
the shops are closed. I then try to ring up a few caterers, but the telephone is
out of order.
Accordingly I have to renounce my desire to give a supper.'
I reply, of course, that only the analysis can decide the meaning of this dream,
although I
admit that at first sight it seems sensible and coherent and looks like the
opposite of a
wish-fulfilment. `But what occurrence gave rise to this dream?' I ask. `You know
that the
stimulus of a dream always lies among the experiences of the preceding day.'
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
40
Analysis -- The patient's husband, an honest and capable meat salesman, had told
her the
day before that he was growing too fat, and that he meant to undergo treatment
for
obesity. He would rise early, take physical exercise, keep to a strict diet, and
above all
accept no more invitations to supper. -- She proceeds jestingly to relate how
her husband,
at a table d'hôte, had made the acquaintance of an artist, who insisted upon
painting his
portrait, because he, the painter, had never seen such an expressive head. But
her husband
had answered in his downright fashion, that while he was much obliged, he would
rather
not be painted; and he was quite convinced that a bit of a pretty young girl's
posterior
would please the artist better than his whole face.6 -- She is very much in love
with her
husband, and teases him a good deal. She has asked him not to give her any
caviar. What
can that mean?
As a matter of fact, she had wanted for a long time to eat a caviar sandwich
every
morning, but had grudged the expense. Of course she could get the caviar from
her
husband at once if she asked for it. But she has, on the contrary, begged him
not to give
her any caviar, so that she might tease him about it a little longer.
(To me this explanation seems thin. Unconfessed motives are wont to conceal
themselves
behind just such unsatisfying explanations. We are reminded of the subjects
hypnotised
by Bernheim, who carried out a post-hypnotic order, and who, on being questioned
as to
their motives, instead of answering `I do not know why I did that', had to
invent a reason
that was obviously inadequate. There is probably something similar to this in
the case of
my patient's caviar. I see that in waking life she is compelled to invent an
unfulfilled
wish. Her dream also shows her the non-fulfilment of her wish. But why does she
need an
unfulfilled wish?)
The ideas elicited so far are insufficient for the interpretation of the dream.
I press for
more. After a short pause, which corresponds to the overcoming of a resistance,
she
reports that the day before she had paid a visit to a friend of whom she is
really jealous
because her husband is always praising this lady so highly. Fortunately this
friend is very
thin and lanky, and her husband likes full figures. Now of what did this thin
friend speak?
Of course, of her wish to become rather plumper. She also asked my patient:
`When are
you going to invite us again? You always have such good food.'
Now the meaning of the dream is clear. I am able to tell the patient: `It is
just as though
you had thought at the moment of her asking you that: ``Of course, I'm to invite
you so
that you can eat at my house and get fat and become still more pleasing to my
husband! I
would rather give no more suppers!'' The dream then tells you that you cannot
give a
supper, thereby fulfilling your wish not to contribute anything to the rounding
out of your
friend's figure. Your husband's resolution to accept no more invitations to
supper in order
that he may grow thin teaches you that one grows fat on food eaten at other
people's
tables.' Nothing is lacking now but some sort of coincidence which will confirm
the
solution. The smoked salmon in the dream has not yet been traced. -- `How did
you come
to think of salmon in your dream?' -- `Smoked salmon is my friend's favourite
dish,' she
replied. It happens that I know the lady, and am able to affirm that she grudges
herself
salmon just as my patient grudges herself caviar.
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
41
This dream admits of yet another and more exact interpretation -- one which is
actually
necessitated only by a subsidiary circumstance. The two interpretations do not
contradict
one another, but rather dovetail into one another, and furnish an excellent
example of the
usual ambiguity of dreams, as of all other psychopathological formations. We
have heard
that at the time of her dream of a denied wish the patient was impelled to deny
herself a
real wish (the wish to eat caviar sandwiches). Her friend, too, had expressed a
wish,
namely, to get fatter, and it would not surprise us if our patient had dreamt
that this wish
of her friend's -- the wish to increase in weight -- was not to be fulfilled.
Instead of this,
however, she dreamt that one of her own wishes was not fulfilled. The dream
becomes
capable of a new interpretation if in the dream she does not mean herself, but
her friend,
if she has put herself in the place of her friend, or, as we may say, has
identified herself
with her friend.
I think she has actually done this, and as a sign of this identification she has
created for
herself in real life an unfulfilled wish. But what is the meaning of this
hysterical
identification? To elucidate this a more exhaustive exposition is necessary.
Identification
is a highly important motive in the mechanism of hysterical symptoms; by this
means
patients are enabled to express in their symptoms not merely their own
experiences, but
the experiences of quite a number of other persons; they can suffer, as it were,
for a
whole mass of people, and fill all the parts of a drama with their own
personalities. It will
here be objected that this is the well-known hysterical imitation, the ability
of hysterical
subjects to imitate all the symptoms which impress them when they occur in
others, as
though pity were aroused to the point of reproduction. This, however, only
indicates the
path which the psychic process follows in hysterical imitation. But the path
itself and the
psychic act which follows this path are two different matters. The act itself is
slightly
more complicated than we are prone to believe the imitation of the hysterical to
be; it
corresponds to an unconscious end-process, as an example will show. The
physician who
has, in the same ward with other patients, a female patient suffering from a
particular
kind of twitching, is not surprised if one morning he learns that this peculiar
hysterical
affection has found imitators. He merely tells himself: The others have seen
her, and have
imitated her; this is psychic infection. -- Yes, but psychic infection occurs
somewhat in
the following manner: As a rule, patients know more about one another than the
physician knows about any one of them, and they are concerned about one another
when
the doctor's visit is over. One of them has an attack today: at once it is known
to the rest
that a letter from home, a recrudescence of lovesickness, or the like, is the
cause. Their
sympathy is aroused, and although it does not emerge into consciousness they
form the
following conclusion: `If it is possible to suffer such an attack from such a
cause, I too
may suffer this sort of an attack, for I have the same occasion for it.' If this
were a
conclusion capable of becoming conscious, it would perhaps express itself in
dread of
suffering a like attack; but it is formed in another psychic region, and
consequently ends
in the realisation of the dreaded symptoms. Thus identification is not mere
imitation, but
an assimilation based upon the same etiological claim, it expresses a `just
like', and refers
to some common condition which has remained in the unconscious.
In hysteria identification is most frequently employed to express a sexual
community.
The hysterical woman identifies herself by her symptoms most readily -- though
not
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
42
exclusively -- with persons with whom she had had sexual relations, or who have
had
sexual intercourse with the same persons as herself. Language takes cognisance
of this
tendency: two lovers are said to be `one'. In hysterical fantasy, as well as in
dreams,
identification may ensue if one simply thinks of sexual relations; they need not
necessarily become actual. The patient is merely following the rules of the
hysterical
processes of thought when she expresses her jealousy of her friend (which, for
that
matter, she herself admits to be unjustified) by putting herself in her friend's
place in her
dream, and identifying herself with her by fabricating a symptom (the denied
wish). One
might further elucidate the process by saying: In the dream she puts herself in
the place of
her friend, because her friend has taken her own place in relation to her
husband, and
because she would like to take her friend's place in her husband's esteem.7
The contradiction of my theory of dreams on the part of another female patient,
the most
intelligent of all my dreamers, was solved in a simpler fashion, though still in
accordance
with the principle that the non-fulfilment of one wish signified the fulfilment
of another. I
had one day explained to her that a dream is a wish-fulfilment. On the following
day she
related a dream to the effect that she was travelling with her mother-in-law to
the place in
which they were both to spend the summer. Now I knew that she had violently
protested
against spending the summer in the neighbourhood of her mother-in-law. I also
knew that
she had fortunately been able to avoid doing so, since she had recently
succeeded in
renting a house in a place quite remote from that to which her mother-in-law was
going.
And now the dream reversed this desired solution. Was not this a flat
contradiction of my
theory of wish-fulfilment? One had only to draw the inferences from this dream
in order
to arrive at its interpretation. According to this dream, I was wrong; but it
was her wish
that I should be wrong, and this wish the dream showed her as fulfilled. But the
wish that
I should be wrong, which was fulfilled in the theme of the country house,
referred in
reality to another and more serious matter. At that time I had inferred, from
the material
furnished by her analysis, that something of significance in respect to her
illness must
have occurred at a certain time in her life. She had denied this, because it was
not present
in her memory. We soon came to see that I was right. Thus her wish that I should
prove
to be wrong, which was transformed into the dream that she was going into the
country
with her mother-in-law, corresponded with the justifiable wish that those things
which
were then only suspected had never occurred.
Without an analysis, and merely by means of an assumption, I took the liberty of
interpreting a little incident in the life of a friend, who had been my
companion through
eight classes at school. He once heard a lecture of mine, delivered to a small
audience, on
the novel idea that dreams are wish-fulfilments. He went home, dreamt that he
had lost
all his lawsuits -- he was a lawyer -- and then complained to me about it. I
took refuge in
the evasion: `One can't win all one's cases'; but I thought to myself: `If, for
eight years, I
sat as primus on the first bench, while he moved up and down somewhere in the
middle
of the class, may he not naturally have had the wish, ever since his boyhood,
that I too
might for once make a fool of myself?'
Yet another dream of a more gloomy character was offered me by a female patient
in
contradiction of my theory of the wish-dream. This patient, a young girl, began
as
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
43
follows: `You remember that my sister has now only one boy, Charles. She lost
the elder
one, Otto, while I was still living with her. Otto was my favourite; it was I
who really
brought him up. I like the other little fellow, too, but, of course, not nearly
so much as his
dead brother. Now I dreamt last night that I saw Charles lying dead before me.
He was
lying in his little coffin, his hands folded, there were candles all about; and,
in short, it
was just as it was at the time of little Otto's death, which gave me such a
shock. Now tell
me, what does this mean? You know me -- am I really so bad as to wish that my
sister
should lose the only child she has left? Or does the dream mean that I wish that
Charles
had died rather than Otto, whom I liked so much better?'
I assured her that this latter interpretation was impossible. After some
reflection, I was
able to give her the interpretation of the dream, which she subsequently
confirmed. I was
able to do so because the whole previous history of the dreamer was known to me.
Having become an orphan at an early age, the girl had been brought up in the
home of a
much older sister, and had met, among the friends and visitors who frequented
the house,
a man who made a lasting impression upon her affections. It looked for a time as
though
these barely explicit relations would end in marriage, but this happy
culmination was
frustrated by the sister, whose motives were never completely explained. After
the
rupture the man whom my patient loved avoided the house; she herself attained
her
independence some time after the death of little Otto, to whom, meanwhile, her
affections
had turned. But she did not succeed in freeing herself from the dependence due
to her
affection for her sister's friend. Her pride bade her avoid him, but she found
it impossible
to transfer her love to the other suitors who successively presented themselves.
Whenever
the man she loved, who was a member of the literary profession, announced a
lecture
anywhere, she was certain to be found among the audience; and she seized every
other
opportunity of seeing him unobserved. I remembered that on the previous day she
had
told me that the Professor was going to a certain concert, and that she too was
going, in
order to enjoy the sight of him. This was on the day before the dream; and the
concert
was to be given on the day on which she told me the dream. I could now easily
see the
correct interpretation, and I asked her whether she could think of any
particular event
which had occurred after Otto's death. She replied immediately: `Of course; the
Professor
returned then, after a long absence, and I saw him once more beside little
Otto's coffin.' It
was just as I had expected. I interpreted the dream as follows: `If now the
other boy were
to die, the same thing would happen again. You would spend the day with your
sister; the
Professor would certainly come to offer his condolences, and you would see him
once
more under the same circumstances as before. The dream signifies nothing more
than this
wish of yours to see him again -- a wish against which you are fighting
inwardly. I know
that you have the ticket for today's concert in your bag. Your dream is a dream
of
impatience; it has anticipated by several hours the meeting which is to take
place today.'
In order to disguise her wish she had obviously selected a situation in which
wishes of the
sort are commonly suppressed -- a situation so sorrowful that love is not even
thought of.
And yet it is entirely possible that even in the actual situation beside the
coffin of the
elder, more dearly loved boy, she had not been able to suppress her tender
affection for
the visitor whom she had missed for so long.
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
44
A different explanation was found in the case of a similar dream of another
patient, who
in earlier life had been distinguished for her quick wit and her cheerful
disposition, and
who still displayed these qualities, at all events in the free associations
which occurred to
her during treatment. In the course of a longer dream, it seemed to this lady
that she saw
her fifteen year-old daughter lying dead before her in a box. She was strongly
inclined to
use this dream-image as an objection to the theory of wish-fulfilment, although
she
herself suspected that the detail of the box must lead to a different conception
of the
dream.8 For in the course of the analysis it occurred to her that on the
previous evening
the conversation of the people in whose company she found herself had turned on
the
English word `box', and upon the numerous translations of it into German such as
Schachtel (box), Loge (box at the theatre), Kasten (chest), Ohrfeige (box on the
ear), etc.
From other components of the same dream it was now possible to add the fact that
the
lady had guessed at the relationship between the English word `box' and the
German
Büchse, and had then been haunted by the recollection that Büchse, is used in
vulgar
parlance to denote the female genitals. It was therefore possible, treating her
knowledge
of topographical anatomy with a certain indulgence, to assume that the child in
the box
signified a child in the mother's womb. At this stage of the explanation she no
longer
denied that the picture in the dream actually corresponded with a wish of hers.
Like so
many other young women, she was by no means happy on finding that she was
pregnant,
and she had confessed to me more than once the wish that her child might die
before its
birth; in a fit of anger, following a violent scene with her husband, she had
even struck
her abdomen with her fists, in order to injure the child within. The dead child
was,
therefore, really the fulfilment of a wish, but a wish which had been put aside
for fifteen
years, and it is not surprising that the fulfilment of the wish was no longer
recognised
after so long an interval. For there had been many changes in the meantime.
The group of dreams (having as content the death of beloved relatives) to which
belong
the last two mentioned will be considered again under the head of `Typical
Dreams'. I
shall then be able to show by new examples that in spite of their undesirable
content all
these dreams must be interpreted as wish-fulfilments. For the following dream,
which
again was told me in order to deter me from a hasty generalisation of my theory,
I am
indebted, not to a patient, but to an intelligent jurist of my acquaintance. `I
dream,' my
informant tells me, `that I am walking in front of my house with a lady on my
arm. Here a
closed carriage is waiting; a man steps up to me, shows me his authorisation as
a police
officer, and requests me to follow him. I ask only for time in which to arrange
my affairs.'
The jurist then asks me: `Can you possibly suppose that it is my wish to be
arrested?' --
`Of course not,' I have to admit. `Do you happen to know upon what charge you
were
arrested?' -- `Yes; I believe for infanticide.' -- `Infanticide? But you know
that only a
mother can commit this crime upon her new-born child?' -- `That is true.'9 --
`And under
what circumstances did you dream this? What happened on the evening before?' --
`I
would rather not tell you -- it is a delicate matter.' -- `But I need it,
otherwise we must
forgo the interpretation of the dream.' -- `Well, then, I will tell you. I spent
the night, not
at home, but in the house of a lady who means a great deal to me. When we awoke
in the
morning, something again passed between us. Then I went to sleep again, and
dreamt
what I have told you.' -- `The woman is married?' -- `Yes.' -- `And you do not
wish her to
conceive?' -- `No; that might betray us.' -- `Then you do not practice normal
coitus?' -- `I
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
45
take the precaution to withdraw before ejaculation.' -- `Am I to assume that you
took this
precaution several times during the night, and that in the morning you were not
quite sure
whether you had succeeded?' -- `That might be so.' -- `Then your dream is the
fulfilment
of a wish. By the dream you are assured that you have not begotten a child, or,
what
amounts to the same thing, that you have killed the child. I can easily
demonstrate the
connecting-links. Do you remember, a few days ago we were talking about the
troubles
of matrimony, and about the inconsistency of permitting coitus so long as no
impregnation takes place, while at the same time any preventive act committed
after the
ovum and the semen meet and a foetus is formed is punished as a crime? In this
connection we recalled the medieval controversy about the moment of time at
which the
soul actually enters into the foetus, since the concept of murder becomes
admissible only
from that point onwards. Of course, too, you know the gruesome poem by Lenau,
which
puts infanticide and birth-control on the same plane.' -- `Strangely enough, I
happened, as
though by chance, to think of Lenau this morning.' -- `Another echo of your
dream. And
now I shall show you yet another incidental wish-fulfilment in your dream. You
walk up
to your house with the lady on your arm. So you take her home, instead of
spending the
night at her house, as you did in reality. The fact that the wish-fulfilment,
which is the
essence of the dream, disguises itself in such an unpleasant form, has perhaps
more than
one explanation. From my essay on the etiology of anxiety neurosis, you will see
that I
note coitus interruptus as one of the factors responsible for the development of
neurotic
fear. It would be consistent with this if, after repeated coitus of this kind,
you were left in
an uncomfortable frame of mind, which now becomes an element of the composition
of
your dream. You even make use of this uncomfortable state of mind to conceal the
wishfulfilment.
At the same time, the mention of infanticide has not yet been explained. Why
does this crime, which is peculiar to females, occur to you?' -- `I will confess
to you that I
was involved in such an affair years ago. I was responsible for the fact that a
girl tried to
protect herself from the consequences of a liaison with me by procuring an
abortion. I
had nothing to do with the carrying out of her plan, but for a long time I was
naturally
worried in case the affair might be discovered.' -- `I understand. This
recollection
furnished a second reason why the supposition that you had performed coitus
interruptus
clumsily must have been painful to you.'
A young physician, who heard this dream related in my lecture-room, must have
felt that
it fitted him, for he hastened to imitate it by a dream of his own, applying its
mode of
thinking to another theme. On the previous day he had furnished a statement of
his
income; a quite straightforward statement, because he had little to state. He
dreamt that
an acquaintance of his came from a meeting of the tax commission and informed
him that
all the other statements had passed unquestioned, but that his own had aroused
general
suspicion, with the result that he would be punished with a heavy fine. This
dream is a
poorly disguised fulfilment of the wish to be known as a physician with a large
income. It
also calls to mind the story of the young girl who was advised against accepting
her suitor
because he was a man of quick temper, who would assuredly beat her after their
marriage. Her answer was: `I wish he would strike me!' Her wish to be married
was so
intense that she had taken into consideration the discomforts predicted for this
marriage;
she had even raised them to the plane of a wish.
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
46
If I group together the very frequent dreams of this sort, which seem flatly to
contradict
my theory, in that they embody the denial of a wish or some occurrence obviously
undesired, under the head of `counter-wish-dreams', I find that they may all be
referred to
two principles, one of which has not yet been mentioned, though it plays a large
part in
waking as well as dream-life. One of the motives inspiring these dreams is the
wish that I
should appear in the wrong. These dreams occur regularly in the course of
treatment
whenever the patient is in a state of resistance; indeed, I can with a great
deal of certainty
count on evoking such a dream once I have explained to the patient my theory
that the
dream is a wish-fulfilment.10 Indeed, I have reason to expect that many of my
readers will
have such dreams, merely to fulfil the wish that I may prove to be wrong. The
last dream
which I shall recount from among those occurring in the course of treatment once
more
demonstrates this very thing. A young girl who had struggled hard to continue my
treatment, against the will of her relatives and the authorities whom they had
consulted,
dreamt the following dream: At home she is forbidden to come to me any more. She
then
reminds me of the promise I made to treat her for nothing if necessary, and I
tell her: `I
can show no consideration in money matters.'
It is not at all easy in this case to demonstrate the fulfilment of a wish, but
in all cases of
this kind there is a second problem, the solution of which helps also to solve
the first.
Where does she get the words which she puts into my mouth? Of course, I have
never
told her anything of the kind; but one of her brothers, the one who has the
greatest
influence over her, has been kind enough to make this remark about me. It is
then the
purpose of the dream to show that her brother is right; and she does not try to
justify this
brother merely in the dream; it is her purpose in life and the motive of her
illness.
A dream which at first sight presents peculiar difficulties for the theory of
wishfulfilment
was dreamed by a physician (Aug. Stärcke) and interpreted by him: `I have
and see on the last phalange of my left forefinger a primary syphilitic
affection.'
One may perhaps be inclined to refrain from analysing this dream, since it seems
clear
and coherent, except for its unwished-for content. However, if one takes the
trouble to
make an analysis, one learns that `primary affection' reduces itself to `prima
affectio'
(first love), and that the repulsive sore, in the words of Stärke, proves to be
`the
representative of wish-fulfilments charged with intense emotion.'11
The other motive for counter-wish-dreams is so clear that there is a danger of
overlooking
it, as happened in my own case for a long time. In the sexual constitution of
many
persons there is a masochistic component, which has arisen through the
conversion of the
aggressive, sadistic component into its opposite. Such people are called `ideal'
masochists
if they seek pleasure not in the bodily pain which may be inflicted upon them,
but in
humiliation and psychic chastisement. It is obvious that such persons may have
counterwish-
dreams and disagreeable dreams, yet these are for them nothing more than
wishfulfilments,
which satisfy their masochistic inclinations. Here is such a dream: A young
man, who in earlier youth greatly tormented his elder brother, toward whom he
was
homosexually inclined, but who has since undergone a complete change of
character, has
the following dream, which consists of three parts: (1) He is `teased' by his
brother. (2)
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
47
Two adults are caressing each other with homosexual intentions. (3) His brother
has sold
the business, the management of which the young man had reserved for his own
future.
From this last dream he awakens with the most unpleasant feelings; and yet it is
a
masochistic wish-dream, which might be translated: It would serve me right if my
brother
were to make that sale against my interests. It would be my punishment for all
the
torments he has suffered at my hands.
I hope that the examples given above will suffice -- until some further
objection appears -
- to make it seem credible that even dreams with a painful content are to be
analysed as
wish-fulfilments.12 Nor should it be considered a mere matter of chance that in
the course
of interpretation one always happens upon subjects about which one does not like
to
speak or think. The disagreeable sensation which such dreams arouse is of course
precisely identical with the antipathy which would, and usually does, restrain
us from
treating or discussing such subjects -- an antipathy which must be overcome by
all of us
if we find ourselves obliged to attack the problem of such dreams. But this
disagreeable
feeling which recurs in our dreams does not preclude the existence of a wish;
everyone
has wishes which he would not like to confess to others, which he does not care
to admit
even to himself. On the other hand, we feel justified in connecting the
unpleasant
character of all these dreams with the fact of dream-distortion, and in
concluding that
these dreams are distorted, and that their wish-fulfilment is disguised beyond
recognition,
precisely because there is a strong revulsion against -- a will to repress --
the subjectmatter
of the dream, or the wish created by it. Dream-distortion, then, proves in
reality to
be an act of the censorship. We shall have included everything which the
analysis of
disagreeable dreams has brought to light if we reword our formula thus: The
dream is the
(disguised) fulfilment of a (suppressed, repressed) wish.13
Now there still remain to be considered, as a particular suborder of dreams with
painful
content, the anxiety-dreams, the inclusion of which among the wish-dreams will
be still
less acceptable to the uninitiated. But I can here deal very cursorily with the
problem of
anxiety-dreams; what they have to reveal is not a new aspect of the
dream-problem; here
the problem is that of understanding neurotic anxiety in general. The anxiety
which we
experience in dreams is only apparently explained by the dream-content. If we
subject
that content to analysis, we become aware that the dream-anxiety is no more
justified by
the dream-content than the anxiety in a phobia is justified by the idea to which
the phobia
is attached. For example, it is true that it is possible to fall out of a
window, and that a
certain care should be exercised when one is at a window, but it is not obvious
why the
anxiety in the corresponding phobia is so great, and why it torments its victims
more than
its cause would warrant. The same explanation which applies to the phobia
applies also to
the anxiety-dream. In either case the anxiety is only fastened on to the idea
which
accompanies it, and is really derived from another source.
On account of this intimate relation of dream-anxiety to neurotic anxiety, the
discussion
of the former obliges me to refer to the latter. In a little essay on Anxiety
Neurosis,14
written in 1895, I maintain that neurotic anxiety has its origin in the sexual
life, and
corresponds to a libido which has been deflected from its object and has found
no
employment. The accuracy of this formula has since then been demonstrated with
everINTERPRETATION
OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
48
increasing certainty. From it we may deduce the doctrine that anxiety-dreams are
dreams
of sexual content, and that the libido appertaining to this content has been
transformed
into anxiety. Later on I shall have an opportunity of confirming this assertion
by the
analysis of several dreams of neurotics. In my further attempts to arrive at a
theory of
dreams I shall again have occasion to revert to the conditions of anxiety-dreams
and their
compatibility with the theory of wish-fulfilment.
1 Already Plotinus, the neo-Platonist, said: `When desire bestirs itself, then
comes fantasy,
and presents to us, as it were, the object of desire' (Du Prel, p. 276).
2 It is quite incredible with what obstinacy readers and critics have excluded
this
consideration and disregarded the fundamental differentiation between the
manifest and
the latent dream-content. Nothing in the literature of the subject approaches so
closely to
my own conception of dreams as a passage in J. Sully's essay: Dreams as a
Revelation
(and it is not because I do not think it valuable that I allude to it here for
the first time). `It
would seem then, after all, that dreams are not the utter nonsense they have
been said to
be by such authorities as Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton. The chaotic
aggregations of
our night-fancy have a significance and communicate new knowledge. Like some
letter in
cipher, the dream-inscription when scrutinised closely loses its first look of
balderdash
and takes on the aspect of a serious, intelligible message. Or, to vary the
figure slightly,
we may say that, like some pamphlets the dream discloses beneath its worthless
surfacecharacters
traces of an old and precious communication' (p. 364).
3 It is astonishing to see how my memory here restricts itself -- in the waking
state! -- for
the purposes of analysis. I have known five of my uncles and I 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.'
4 Such hypocritical dreams are not rare, either with me or with others. While I
have been
working at a certain scientific problem I have been visited for several nights,
at quite
short intervals, by a somewhat confusing dream which has as its content a
reconciliation
with a friend dropped long ago. 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 remnant of consideration still surviving for the person in question, to make
myself
quite free from him, but it hypocritically disguised itself in its antithesis. I
have recorded
a `hypocritical Oedipus dream' in which the hostile feelings and death-wishes of
the
dream-thoughts were replaced by manifest tenderness (`Typisches Beispiel eines
verkappten Oedipusträumes,' Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse, Bd. I, Heft 1-11,
1910).
Another class of hypocritical dreams will be recorded in another place (see
Chap. vi, The
Dream-Work).
5 Later on we shall become acquainted with cases in which, on the contrary, the
dream
expresses a wish of this second instance.
6 To sit for the painter. Goethe: `And if he has no backside, How can the
nobleman sit?'
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
49
7 I myself regret the inclusion of such passages from the psychopathology of
hysteria,
which, because of their fragmentary presentation, and because they are torn out
of their
context, cannot prove to be very illuminating. If these passages are capable of
throwing
any light upon the intimate relations between dreams and the psychoneuroses,
they have
served the intention with which I have included them.
8 As in the dream of the deferred supper and the smoked salmon.
9 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, when
subsequently
fitted in, invariably furnish the key to the interpretation. cf. Chapter Seven,
on forgetting
in dreams.
10 Similar `counter-wish-dreams' have been repeatedly reported to me within the
last few
years, by those who attend my lectures, as their reaction to their first
encounter with the
`wish-theory of dreams.'
11 Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse, Jahrg. II, 1911-12.
12 I will here observe that we have not yet disposed of this theme; we shall
discuss it again
later.
13 A great contemporary poet, who, I am told, will hear nothing of
psychoanalysis and
dream-interpretation, has nevertheless derived from his own experience an almost
identical formula for the nature of the dream: `Unauthorised emergence of
suppressed
yearnings under false features and names' (C. Spitteler, Meine frühesten
Erlebnisee, in
Süddeutsche Monatshefte, October, 1913). I will here anticipate by citing the
amplification and modification of this fundamental formula propounded by Otto
Rank:
`On the basis of and with the aid of repressed infantile-sexual material, dreams
regularly
represent as fulfilled current, and as a rule also erotic, wishes in a disguised
and symbolic
form' (Ein Traum, der sich selbst deutet). Nowhere have I said that I have
accepted this
formula of Rank's. The shorter version contained in the text seems to me
sufficient. But
the fact that I merely mentioned Rank's modification was enough to expose
psychoanalysis to the oftrepeated reproach that it asserts that all dreams have
a sexual
content. If one understands this sentence as it is intended to be understood, it
only proves
how little conscientiousness our critics are wont to display, and how ready our
opponents
are to overlook statements if they do not accord with their aggressive
inclinations. Only a
few pages back I mentioned the manifold wish-fulfilment of children's dreams (to
make
an excursion on land or water, to make up for an omitted meal, etc.). Elsewhere
I have
mentioned dreams excited by thirst and the desire to evacuate, and mere comfort-
or
convenience-dreams. Even Rank does not make an absolute assertion. He says `as a
rule
also erotic wishes,' and this can be completely confirmed in the case of most
dreams of
adults. The matter has, however, a different aspect if we employ the word
`sexual' in the
sense of `Eros', as the word is understood by psychoanalysts. But the
interesting problem
of whether all dreams are not produced by `libidinal' motives (in opposition to
`destructive' ones) has hardly been considered by our opponents.
INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS
Get any book for free on: http://www.v84u.com
50
14 Selected Papers on Hysteria and other Psychoneuroses, p. 133, translated by
A. A.
Brill, Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases, Monograph Series.
