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The Interpretation of Dreams Chapter 6 - E. Representation in Dreams by Symbols: Some Further Typical Dreams Psychology
VI. THE DREAM-WORK (continued)
F. Examples- Arithmetic and Speech in Dreams
Before I proceed to assign to its proper place the fourth of the factors
which control the formation of dreams, I shall cite a few examples from my
collection of dreams, partly for the purpose of illustrating the co-operation of
the three factors with which we are already acquainted, and partly for the
purpose of adducing evidence for certain unsupported assertions which have been
made, or of bringing out what necessarily follows from them. It has, of course,
been difficult in the foregoing account of the dream-work to demonstrate my
conclusions by means of examples. Examples in support of isolated statements are
convincing only when considered in the context of an interpretation of a dream
as a whole; when they are wrested from their context, they lose their value; on
the other hand, a dream-interpretation, even when it is by no means profound,
soon becomes so extensive that it obscures the thread of the discussion which it
is intended to illustrate. This technical consideration must be my excuse if I
now proceed to mix together all sorts of things which have nothing in common
except their reference to the text of the foregoing chapter.
We shall first consider a few examples of very peculiar or unusual methods of
representation in dreams. A lady dreamed as follows: A servant-girl is standing
on a ladder as though to clean the windows, and has with her a chimpanzee and a
gorilla cat (later corrected, angora cat). She throws the animals on to the
dreamer; the chimpanzee nestles up to her, and this is very disgusting. This
dream has accomplished its purpose by a very simple means, namely, by taking a
mere figure of speech literally, and representing it in accordance with the
literal meaning of its words. Monkey, like the names of animals in general, is
an opprobrious epithet, and the situation of the dream means merely to hurl
invectives. This same collection will soon furnish us with further examples of
the employment of this simple artifice in the dream-work.
Another dream proceeds in a very similar manner: A woman with a child which has
a conspicuously deformed cranium; the dreamer has heard that the child acquired
this deformity owing to its position in its mother's womb. The doctor says that
the cranium might be given a better shape by means of compression, but that this
would injure the brain. She thinks that because it is a boy it won't suffer so
much from deformity. This dream contains a plastic representation of the
abstract concept: Childish impressions, with which the dreamer has become
familiar in the course of the treatment.
In the following example the dream-work follows rather a different course. The
dream contains a recollection of an excursion to the Hilmteich, near Graz: There
is a terrible storm outside; a miserable hotel- the water is dripping from the
walls, and the beds are damp. (The latter part of the content was less directly
expressed than I give it.) The dream signifies superfluous. The abstract idea
occurring in the dream-thoughts is first made equivocal by a certain abuse of
language; it has perhaps been replaced by overflowing, or by fluid and
super-fluid (-fluous), and has then been brought to representation by an
accumulation of like impressions. Water within, water without, water in the beds
in the form of dampness- everything fluid and super fluid. That for the purposes
of dream-representation the spelling is much less considered than the sound of
words ought not to surprise us when we remember that rhyme exercises a similar
privilege.
The fact that language has at its disposal a great number of words which were
originally used in a pictorial and concrete sense, but are at present used in a
colourless and abstract fashion, has, in certain other cases, made it very easy
for the dream to represent its thoughts. The dream has only to restore to these
words their full significance, or to follow their change of meaning a little way
back. For example, a man dreams that his friend, who is struggling to get out of
a very tight place, calls upon him for help. The analysis shows that the tight
place is a hole, and that the dreamer symbolically uses these very words to his
friend: "Be careful, or you'll get yourself into a hole." * Another dreamer
climbs a mountain from which he obtains an extraordinarily extensive view. He
identifies himself with his brother, who is editing a review dealing with the
Far East.
* English Example.- TR.
In a dream in Der Grune Heinrich, a spirited horse is plunging about in a field
of the finest oats, every grain of which is really "a sweet almond, a raisin and
a new penny" wrapped in red silk and tied with a bit of pig's bristle." The poet
(or the dreamer) immediately furnishes the meaning of this dream, for the horse
felt himself pleasantly tickled, so that he exclaimed: "The oats are pricking
me" ("I feel my oats").
In the old Norse sagas (according to Henzen) prolific use is made in dreams of
colloquialisms and witty expressions; one scarcely finds a dream without a
double meaning or a play upon words.
It would be a special undertaking to collect such methods of representation and
to arrange them in accordance with the principles upon which they are based.
Some of the representations are almost witty. They give one the impression that
one would have never guessed their meaning if the dreamer himself had not
succeeded in explaining it.
1. A man dreams that he is asked for a name, which, however, he cannot recall.
He himself explains that this means: "I shouldn't dream of it."
2. A female patient relates a dream in which all the persons concerned were
singularly large. "That means," she adds, "that it must deal with an episode of
my early childhood, for at that time all grown-up people naturally seemed to me
immensely large." She herself did not appear in the dream.
The transposition into childhood is expressed differently in other dreams- by
the translation of time into space. One sees persons and scenes as though at a
great distance, at the end of a long road, or as though one were looking at them
through the wrong end of a pair of opera-glasses.
3. A man who in waking life shows an inclination to employ abstract and
indefinite expressions, but who otherwise has his wits about him, dreams, in a
certain connection, that he reaches a railway station just as a train is coming
in. But then the platform moves towards the train, which stands still; an absurd
inversion of the real state of affairs. This detail, again, is nothing more than
an indication to the effect that something else in the dream must be inverted.
The analysis of the same dream leads to recollections of picture-books in which
men were represented standing on their heads and walking on their hands.
4. The same dreamer, on another occasion, relates a short dream which almost
recalls the technique of a rebus. His uncle gives him a kiss in an automobile.
He immediately adds the interpretation, which would never have occurred to me:
it means auto-erotism. In the waking state this might have been said in jest.
5. At a New Year's Eve dinner the host, the patriarch of the family, ushered in
the New Year with a speech. One of his sons-in- law, a lawyer, was not inclined
to take the old man seriously, especially when in the course of his speech he
expressed himself as follows: "When I open the ledger for the Old Year and
glance at its pages I see everything on the asset side and nothing, thank the
Lord, on the side of liability; all you children have been a great asset, none
of you a liability." On hearing this the young lawyer thought of X, his wife's
brother, who was a cheat and a liar, and whom he had recently extricated from
the entanglements of the law. That night, in a dream. he saw the New Year's
celebration once more, and heard the speech, or rather saw it. Instead of
speaking, the old man actually opened the ledger, and on the side marked assets
he saw his name amongst others, but on the other side, marked liability, there
was the name of his brother-in-law, X. However, the word liability was changed
into Lie-Ability, which he regarded as X's main characteristic. *
* Reported by Brill in his Fundamental Conceptions of Psychoanalysis.
6. A dreamer treats another person for a broken bone. The analysis shows that
the fracture represents a broken marriage vow, etc.
7. In the dream-content the time of day often represents a certain period of the
dreamer's childhood. Thus, for example, 5:15 a.m. means to one dreamer the age
of five years and three months; when he was that age, a younger brother was
born.
8. Another representation of age in a dream: A woman is walking with two little
girls; there is a difference of fifteen months in their ages. The dreamer cannot
think of any family of her acquaintance in which this is the case. She herself
interprets it to mean that the two children represent her own person, and that
the dream reminds her that the two traumatic events of her childhood were
separated by this period of time 3 1/2 and 4 3/4 years).
9. It is not astonishing that persons who are undergoing psycho- analytic
treatment frequently dream of it, and are compelled to give expression in their
dreams to all the thoughts and expectations aroused by it. The image chosen for
the treatment is as a rule that of a journey, usually in a motor-car, this being
a modern and complicated vehicle; in the reference to the speed of the car the
patient's ironical humour is given free play. If the unconscious, as an element
of waking thought, is to be represented in the dream, it is replaced,
appropriately enough, by subterranean localities, which at other times, when
there is no reference to analytic treatment, have represented the female body or
the womb. Below in the dream very often refers to the genitals, and its
opposite, above, to the face, mouth or breast. By wild beasts the dream-work
usually symbolizes passionate impulses; those of the dreamer, and also those of
other persons of whom the dreamer is afraid; or thus, by means of a very slight
displacement, the persons who experience these passions. From this it is not
very far to the totemistic representation of the dreaded father by means of
vicious animals, dogs, wild horses, etc. One might say that wild beasts serve to
represent the libido, feared by the ego, and combated by repression. Even the
neurosis itself, the sick person, is often separated from the dreamer and
exhibited in the dream as an independent person.
One may go so far as to say that the dream-work makes use of all the means
accessible to it for the visual representation of the dream-thoughts, whether
these appear admissible or inadmissible to waking criticism, and thus exposes
itself to the doubt as well as the derision of all those who have only hearsay
knowledge of dream-interpretation, but have never themselves practised it.
Stekel's book, Die Sprache des Traumes, is especially rich in such examples, but
I avoid citing illustrations from this work as the author's lack of critical
judgment and his arbitrary technique would make even the unprejudiced observer
feel doubtful.
10. From an essay by V. Tausk ("Kleider und Farben in Dienste der
Traumdarstellung," in Interna. Zeitschr. fur Ps. A., ii [1914]):
(a) A dreams that he sees his former governess wearing a dress of black lustre,
which fits closely over her buttocks. That means he declares this woman to be
lustful.
(b) C in a dream sees a girl on the road to X bathed in a white light and
wearing a white blouse.
The dreamer began an affair with a Miss White on this road.
11. In an analysis which I carried out in the French language I had to interpret
a dream in which I appeared as an elephant. I naturally had to ask why I was
thus represented: "Vous me trompez," answered the dreamer (Trompe = trunk).
The dream-work often succeeds in representing very refractory material, such as
proper names, by means of the forced exploitation of very remote relations. In
one of my dreams old Brucke has set me a task. I make a preparation, and pick
something out of it which looks like crumpled tinfoil. (I shall return to this
dream later.) The corresponding association, which is not easy to find, is
stanniol, and now I know that I have in mind the name of the author Stannius,
which appeared on the title- page of a treatise on the nervous system of fishes,
which in my youth I regarded with reverence. The first scientific problem which
my teacher set me did actually relate to the nervous system of a fish- the
Ammocoetes. Obviously, this name could not be utilized in the picture-puzzle.
Here I must not fail to include a dream with a curious content, which is worth
noting also as the dream of a child, and which is readily explained by analysis:
A lady tells me: "I can remember that when I was a child I repeatedly dreamed
that God wore a conical paper hat on His head. They often used to make me wear
such a hat at table, so that I shouldn't be able to look at the plates of the
other children and see how much they had received of any particular dish. Since
I had heard that God was omniscient, the dream signified that I knew everything
in spite of the hat which I was made to wear."
What the dream-work consists in, and its unceremonious handling of its material,
the dream-thoughts, may be shown in an instructive manner by the numbers and
calculations which occur in dreams. Superstition, by the way, regards numbers as
having a special significance in dreams. I shall therefore give a few examples
of this kind from my collection.
1. From the dream of a lady, shortly before the end of her treatment:
She wants to pay for something or other; her daughter takes 3 florins 65 kreuzer
from her purse; but the mother says: "What are you doing? It costs only 21
kreuzer." This fragment of the dream was intelligible without further
explanation owing to my knowledge of the dreamer's circumstances. The lady was a
foreigner, who had placed her daughter at school in Vienna, and was able to
continue my treatment as long as her daughter remained in the city. In three
weeks the daughter's scholastic year would end, and the treatment would then
stop. On the day before the dream the principal of the school had asked her
whether she could not decide to leave the child at school for another year. She
had then obviously reflected that in this case she would be able to continue the
treatment for another year. Now, this is what the dream refers to, for a year is
equal to 365 days; the three weeks remaining before the end of the scholastic
year, and of the treatment, are equivalent to 21 days (though not to so many
hours of treatment). The numerals, which in the dream- thoughts refer to periods
of time, are given money values in the dream, and simultaneously a deeper
meaning finds expression- for time is money. 365 kreuzer, of course, are 3
florins 65 kreuzer. The smallness of the sums which appear in the dream is a
self- evident wish-fulfilment; the wish has reduced both the cost of the
treatment and the year's school fees.
2. In another dream the numerals are involved in even more complex relations. A
young lady, who has been married for some years, learns that an acquaintance of
hers, of about the same age, Elise L, has just become engaged. Thereupon she
dreams: She is sitting in the theatre with her husband and one side of the
stalls is quite empty. Her husband tells her that Elise L and her fiance had
also wished to come to the theatre, but that they only could have obtained poor
seats; three for 1 florin 50 kreuzer, and of course they could not take those.
She thinks they didn't lose much, either.
What is the origin of the 1 florin 50 kreuzer? A really indifferent incident of
the previous day. The dreamer's sister-in- law had received 150 florins as a
present from her husband, and hastened to get rid of them by buying some
jewellery. Let us note that 150 florins is 100 times 1 florin 50 kreuzer. But
whence the 3 in connection with the seats in the theatre? There is only one
association for this, namely, that the fiance is three months younger than
herself. When we have ascertained the significance of the fact that one side of
the stalls is empty we have the solution of the dream. This feature is an
undisguised allusion to a little incident which had given her husband a good
excuse for teasing her. She had decided to go to the theatre that week; she had
been careful to obtain tickets a few days beforehand, and had had to pay the
advance booking-fee. When they got to the theatre they found that one side of
the house was almost empty; so that she certainly need not have been in such a
hurry.
I shall now substitute the dream-thoughts for the dream: "It surely was nonsense
to marry so early; there was no need for my being in such a hurry. From Elise
L's example I see that I should have got a husband just the same- and one a
hundred times better- If I had only waited (antithesis to the haste of her
sister-in- law), I could have bought three such men for the money (the dowry)!"-
Our attention is drawn to the fact that the numerals in this dream have changed
their meanings and their relations to a much greater extent than in the. one
previously considered. The transforming and distorting activity of the dream has
in this case been greater- a fact which we interpret as meaning that these
dream-thoughts had to overcome an unusual degree of endo- psychic resistance
before they attained to representation. And we must not overlook the fact that
the dream contains an absurd element, namely, that two persons are expected to
take three seats. It will throw some light on the question of the interpretation
of absurdity in dreams if I remark that this absurd detail of the dream-content
is intended to represent the most strongly emphasized of the dream-thoughts: "It
was nonsense to marry so early." The figure 3, which occurs in a quite
subordinate relation between the two persons compared (three months' difference
in their ages), has thus been adroitly utilized to produce the idea of nonsense
required by the dream. The reduction of the actual 150 florins to 1 florin 50
kreuzer corresponds to the dreamer's disparagement of her husband in her
suppressed thoughts.
3. Another example displays the arithmetical powers of dreams, which have
brought them into such disrepute. A man dreams: He is sitting in the B's house
(the B's are a family with which he was formerly acquainted), and he says: "It
was nonsense that you didn't give me Amy for my wife." Thereupon, he asks the
girl: "How old are you?" Answer: "I was born in 1882." "Ah, then you are 28
years old."
Since the dream was dreamed in the year 1898, this is obviously bad arithmetic,
and the inability of the dreamer to calculate may, if it cannot be otherwise
explained, be likened to that of a general paralytic. My patient was one of
those men who cannot help thinking about every woman they see. The patient who
for some months came next after him in my consulting-room was a young lady; he
met this lady after he had constantly asked about her, and he was very anxious
to make a good impression on her. This was the lady whose age he estimated at
28. So much for explaining the result of his apparent calculation. But 1882 was
the year in which he had married. He had been unable to refrain from entering
into conversation with the two other women whom he met at my house- the two by
no means youthful maids who alternately opened the door to him- and as he did
not find them very responsive, he had told himself that they probably regarded
him as elderly and serious.
Bearing in mind these examples, and others of a similar nature (to follow), we
may say: The dream-work does not calculate at all, whether correctly or
incorrectly; it only strings together, in the form of a sum, numerals which
occur in the dream-thoughts, and which may serve as allusions to material which
is insusceptible of representation. It thus deals with figures, as material for
expressing its intentions, just as it deals with all other concepts, and with
names and speeches which are only verbal images.
For the dream-work cannot compose a new speech. No matter how many speeches; and
answers, which may in themselves be sensible or absurd, may occur in dreams,
analysis shows us that the dream has taken from the dream-thoughts fragments of
speeches which have really been delivered or heard, and has dealt with them in
the most arbitrary fashion. It has not only torn them from their context and
mutilated them, accepting one fragment and rejecting another, but it has often
fitted them together in a novel manner, so that the speech which seems coherent
in a dream is dissolved by analysis into three or four components. In this new
application of the words the dream has often ignored the meaning which they had
in the dream-thoughts, and has drawn an entirely new meaning from them. * Upon
closer inspection, the more distinct and compact ingredients of the dream-speech
may be distinguished from others, which serve as connectives, and have probably
been supplied, just as we supply omitted letters and syllables in reading. The
dream-speech thus has the structure of breccia, in which the larger pieces of
various material are held together by a solidified cohesive medium.
* Analyses of other numerical dreams have been given by Jung, Marcinowski and
others. Such dreams often involve very complicated arithmetical operations,
which are none the less solved by the dreamer with astonishing confidence. Cf.
also Ernest Jones, "Uber unbewusste Zahlenbehandlung," Zentralb. fur
Psychoanalyse, 4, ii, [1912], p. 241).
Neurosis behaves in the same fashion. I know a patient who- involuntarily and
unwillingly- hears (hallucinates) songs or fragments of songs without being able
to understand their significance for her psychic life. She is certainly not a
paranoiac. Analysis shows that by exercising a certain license she gave the text
of these songs a false application. "Oh, thou blissful one! Oh, thou happy one!"
This is the first line of Christmas carol, but by not continuing it to the word,
Christmastide, she turns it into a bridal song, etc. The same mechanism of
distortion may operate, without hallucination, merely in association.
Strictly speaking, of course, this description is correct only for those
dream-speeches which have something of the sensory character of a speech, and
are described as speeches. The others, which have not, as it were, been
perceived as heard or spoken (which have no accompanying acoustic or motor
emphasis in the dream) are simply thoughts, such as occur in our waking life,
and find their way unchanged into many of our dreams. Our reading, too, seems to
provide an abundant and not easily traceable source for the indifferent
speech-material of dreams. But anything that is at all conspicuous as a speech
in a dream can be referred to actual speeches which have been made or heard by
the dreamer.
We have already found examples of the derivation of such dream- speeches in the
analyses of dreams which have been cited for other purposes. Thus, in the
innocent market-dream (chapter V., A.) where the speech: That is no longer to be
had serves to identify me with the butcher, while a fragment of the other
speech: I don't know that, I don't take that, precisely fulfils the task of
rendering the dream innocent. On the previous day, the dreamer, replying to some
unreasonable demand on the part of her cook, had waved her aside with the words:
I don't know that, behave yourself properly, and she afterwards took into the
dream the first, indifferent-sounding part of the speech in order to allude to
the latter part, which fitted well into the phantasy underlying the dream, but
which might also have betrayed it.
Here is one of many examples which all lead to the same conclusion:
A large courtyard in which dead bodies are being burned. The dreamer says, "I'm
going, I can't stand the sight of it." (Not a distinct speech.) Then he meets
two butcher boys and asks, "Well, did it taste good?" And one of them answers,
"No, it wasn't good." As though it had been human flesh.
The innocent occasion of this dream is as follows: After taking supper with his
wife, the dreamer pays a visit to his worthy but by no means appetizing
neighbour. The hospitable old lady is just sitting down to her own supper, and
presses him (among men a composite, sexually significant word is used jocosely
in the place of this word) to taste it. He declines, saying that he has no
appetite. She replies: "Go on with you, you can manage it all right," or
something of the kind. The dreamer is thus forced to taste and praise what is
offered him. "But that's good!" When he is alone again with his wife, he
complains of his neighbour's importunity, and of the quality of the food which
he has tasted. "I can't stand the sight of it," a phrase that in the dream, too,
does not emerge as an actual speech, is a thought relating to the physical
charms of the lady who invites him, which may be translated by the statement
that he has no desire to look at her.
The analysis of another dream- which I will cite at this stage for the sake of a
very distinct speech, which constitutes its nucleus, but which will be explained
only when we come to evaluate the affects in dreams- is more instructive. I
dream very vividly: I have gone to Brucke's laboratory at night, and on hearing
a gentle knocking at the door, I open it to (the deceased) Professor Fleischl,
who enters in the company of several strangers, and after saying a few words
sits down at his table. Then follows a second dream: My friend Fl has come to
Vienna, unobtrusively, in July; I meet him in the street, in conversation with
my (deceased) friend P, and I go with them somewhere, and they sit down facing
each other as though at a small table, while I sit facing them at the narrow end
of the table. Fl speaks of his sister, and says: "In three-quarters of an hour
she was dead," and then something like "That is the threshold." As P does not
understand him, Fl turns to me, and asks me how much I have told P of his
affairs. At this, overcome by strange emotions, I try to tell Fl that P (cannot
possibly know anything, of course, because he) is not alive. But noticing the
mistake myself, I say: "Non vixit." Then I look searchingly at P, and under my
gaze he becomes pale and blurred, and his eyes turn a sickly blue- and at last
he dissolves. I rejoice greatly at this; I now understand that Ernst Fleischl,
too, is only an apparition, a revenant, and I find that it is quite possible
that such a person should exist only so long as one wishes him to, and that he
can be made to disappear by the wish of another person.
This very pretty dream unites so many of the enigmatical characteristics of the
dream-content- the criticism made in the dream itself, inasmuch as I myself
notice my mistake in saying Non vixit instead of Non vivit, the unconstrained
intercourse with deceased persons, whom the dream itself declares to be dead,
the absurdity of my conclusion, and the intense satisfaction which it gives me-
that "I would give my life" to expound the complete solution of the problem. But
in reality I am incapable of doing what I do in the dream, i.e., of sacrificing
such intimate friends to my ambition. And if I attempted to disguise the facts,
the true meaning of the dream, with which I am perfectly familiar, would be
spoiled. I must therefore be content to select a few of the elements of the
dream for interpretation, some here, and some at a later stage.
The scene in which I annihilate P with a glance forms the centre of the dream.
His eyes become strange and weirdly blue, and then he dissolves. This scene is
an unmistakable imitation of a scene that was actually experienced. I was a
demonstrator at the Physiological Institute; I was on duty in the morning, and
Brucke learned that on several occasions I had been unpunctual in my attendance
at the students' laboratory. One morning, therefore, he arrived at the hour of
opening, and waited for me. What he said to me was brief and to the point; but
it was not what he said that mattered. What overwhelmed me was the terrible gaze
of his blue eyes, before which I melted away- as P does in the dream, for P has
exchanged roles with me, much to my relief. Anyone who remembers the eyes of the
great master, which were wonderfully beautiful even in his old age, and has ever
seen him angered, will readily imagine the emotions of the young transgressor on
that occasion.
But for a long while I was unable to account for the Non vixit with which I pass
sentence in the dream. Finally, I remembered that the reason why these two words
were so distinct in the dream was not because they were heard or spoken, but
because they were seen. Then I knew at once where they came from. On the
pedestal of the statue of the Emperor joseph in the Vienna Hofburg are inscribed
the following beautiful words:
Saluti patriae vixit
non diu sed totus. *
* The inscription in fact reads:
Saluti publicae vixit
non diu sed totus.
[He lived for the safety of the public, not for a long time, but always.] The
motive of the mistake: patriae [fatherland] for publicae, has probably been
correctly divined by Wittels.
From this inscription I had taken what fitted one inimical train of thought in
my dream-thoughts, and which was intended to mean: "That fellow has nothing to
say in the matter, he is not really alive." And I now recalled that the dream
was dreamed a few days after the unveiling of the memorial to Fleischl, in the
cloisters of the University, upon which occasion I had once more seen the
memorial to Brucke, and must have thought with regret (in the unconscious) how
my gifted friend P, with all his devotion to science, had by his premature death
forfeited his just claim to a memorial in these halls. So I set up this memorial
to him in the dream; Josef is my friend P's baptismal name. *
* As an example of over-determination: My excuse for coming late was that after
working late into the night, in the morning I had to make the long journey from
Kaiser-Josef-Strasse to Wahringer Strasse.
According to the rules of dream-interpretation, I should still not be justified
in replacing non vivit, which I need, by non vixit, which is placed at my
disposal by the recollection of the Kaiser Josef memorial. Some other element of
the dream-thoughts must have contributed to make this possible. Something now
calls my attention to the fact that in the dream scene two trains of thought
relating to my friend P meet, one hostile, the other affectionate- the former on
the surface, the latter covered up- and both are given representation in the
same words: non vixit. As my friend P has deserved well of science, I erect a
memorial to him; as he has been guilty of a malicious wish (expressed at the end
of the dream), I annihilate him. I have here constructed a sentence with a
special cadence, and in doing so I must have been influenced by some existing
model. But where can I find a similar antithesis, a similar parallel between two
opposite reactions to the same person, both of which can claim to be wholly
justified, and which nevertheless do not attempt to affect one another? Only in
one passage which, however, makes a profound impression upon the reader-
Brutus's speech of justification in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "As Caesar
loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
valiant. I honour him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him." Have we not here
the same verbal structure, and the same antithesis of thought, as in the
dream-thoughts? So I am playing Brutus in my dream. If only I could find in my
dream-thoughts another collateral connection to confirm this! I think it might
be the following: My friend Fl comes to Vienna in July. This detail is not the
case in reality. To my knowledge, my friend has never been in Vienna in July.
But the month of July is named after Julius Caesar, and might therefore very
well furnish the required allusion to the intermediate thought- that I am
playing the part of Brutus. * -
* And also, Caesar = Kaiser.
Strangely enough, I once did actually play the part of Brutus. When I was a boy
of fourteen, I presented the scene between Brutus and Caesar in Schiller's poem
to an audience of children: with the assistance of my nephew, who was a year
older than I, and who had come to us from England- and was thus a revenant- for
in him I recognized the playmate of my early childhood. Until the end of my
third year we had been inseparable; we had loved each other and fought each
other and, as I have already hinted, this childish relation has determined all
my later feelings in my intercourse with persons of my own age. My nephew John
has since then had many incarnations, which have revivified first one and then
another aspect of a character that is ineradicably fixed in my unconscious
memory. At times he must have treated me very badly, and I must have opposed my
tyrant courageously, for in later years I was often told of a short speech in
which I defended myself when my father- his grandfather- called me to account:
"Why did you hit John?" "I hit him because he hit me." It must be this childish
scene which causes non vivit to become non vixit, for in the language of later
childhood striking is known as wichsen (German: wichsen = to polish, to wax,
i.e., to thrash); and the dream-work does not disdain to take advantage of such
associations. My hostility towards my friend P, which has so little foundation
in reality- he was greatly my superior, and might therefore have been a new
edition of my old playmate- may certainly be traced to my complicated relations
with John during our childhood. I shall, as I have said, return to this dream
later on.
The Interpretation of Dreams Chapter 6 - G. Absurd Dreams- Intellectual Performances in Dreams
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