张律师欢迎您的访问。
The Interpretation of Dreams Chapter 5 - B. Infantile Experiences as the Source of Dreams Psychology
V. THE MATERIAL AND SOURCES OF DREAMS (continued)
C. The Somatic Sources of Dreams
If we attempt to interest a cultured layman in the problems of dreams, and if,
with this end in view, we ask him what he believes to be the source of dreams,
we shall generally find that he feels quite sure he knows at least this part of
the solution. He thinks immediately of the influence exercised on the formation
of dreams by a disturbed or impeded digestion ("Dreams come from the stomach"),
an accidental position of the body, a trifling occurrence during sleep. He does
not seem to suspect that even after all these factors have been duly considered
something still remains to be explained.
In the introductory chapter we examined at length the opinion of scientific
writers on the role of somatic stimuli in the formation of dreams, so that here
we need only recall the results of this inquiry. We have seen that three kinds
of somatic stimuli will be distinguished: the objective sensory stimuli which
proceed from external objects, the inner states of excitation of the sensory
organs, having only a subjective reality, and the bodily stimuli arising within
the body; and we have also noticed that the writers on dreams are inclined to
thrust into the background any psychic sources of dreams which may operate
simultaneously with the somatic stimuli, or to exclude them altogether. In
testing the claims made on behalf of these somatic stimuli we have learned that
the significance of the objective excitation of the sensory organs- whether
accidental stimuli operating during sleep, or such as cannot be excluded from
the dormant relation of these dream-images and ideas to the internal bodily
stimuli and confirmed by experiment; that the part played by the subjective
sensory stimuli appears to be demonstrated by the recurrence of hypnagogic
sensory images in dreams; and that, although the broadly accepted relation of
these dream-images and ideas to the internal bodily stimuli cannot be
exhaustively demonstrated, it is at all events confirmed by the well-known
influence which an excited state of the digestive, urinary and sexual organs
exercises upon the content of our dreams.
Nerve stimulus and bodily stimulus would thus be the anatomical sources of
dreams; that is, according to many writers, the sole and exclusive sources of
dreams.
But we have already considered a number of doubtful points, which seem to
question not so much the correctness of the somatic theory as its adequacy.
However confident the representatives of this theory may be of its factual
basis- especially in respect of the accidental and external nerve stimuli, which
may without difficulty be recognized in the dream-content- nevertheless they
have all come near to admitting that the rich content of ideas found in dreams
cannot be derived from the external nerve-stimuli alone. In this connection Miss
Mary Whiton Calkins tested her own dreams, and those of a second person, for a
period of six weeks, and found that the element of external sensory perception
was demonstrable in only 13.2 per cent and 6.7 percent of these dreams
respectively. Only two dreams in the whole collection could be referred to
organic sensations. These statistics confirm what a cursory survey of our own
experience would already, have led us to suspect.
A distinction has often been made between nerve-stimulus dreams which have
already been thoroughly investigated, and other forms of dreams. Spitta, for
example, divided dreams into nervestimulus dreams and association-dreams. But it
was obvious that this solution remained unsatisfactory unless the link between
the somatic sources of dreams and their ideational content could be indicated.
In addition to the first objection, that of the insufficient frequency of the
external sources of stimulus, a second objection presents itself, namely, the
inadequacy of the explanations of dreams afforded by this category of
dream-sources. There are two things which the representatives of this theory
have failed to explain: firstly, why the true nature of the external stimulus is
not recognized in the dream, but is constantly mistaken for something else; and
secondly, why the result of the reaction of the perceiving mind to this
misconceived stimulus should be so indeterminate and variable. We have seen that
Strumpell, in answer to these questions, asserts that the mind, since it turns
away from the outer world during sleep, is not in a position to give the correct
interpretation of the objective sensory stimulus, but is forced to construct
illusions on the basis of the indefinite stimulation arriving from many
directions. In his own words (Die Natur und Entstehung der Traume, p. 108).
"When by an external or internal nerve-stimulus during sleep a feeling, or a
complex of feelings, or any sort of psychic process arises in the mind, and is
perceived by the mind, this process calls up from the mind perceptual images
belonging to the sphere of the waking experiences, that is to say, earlier
perceptions, either unembellished, or with the psychic values appertaining to
them. It collects about itself, as it were, a greater or lesser number of such
images, from which the impression resulting from the nerve-stimulus receives its
psychic value. In this connection it is commonly said, as in ordinary language
we say of the waking procedure, that the mind interprets in sleep the
impressions of nervous stimuli. The result of this interpretation is the
socalled nerve-stimulus dream- that is, a dream the components of which are
conditioned by the fact that a nerve-stimulus produces its psychical effect in
the life of the mind in accordance with the laws of reproduction."
In all essential points identical with this doctrine is Wundt's statement that
the concepts of dreams proceed, at all events for the most part, from sensory
stimuli, and especially from the stimuli of general sensation, and are therefore
mostly phantastic illusions- probably only to a small extent pure
memoryconceptions raised to the condition of hallucinations. To illustrate the
relation between dream-content and dream-stimuli which follows from this theory,
Strumpell makes use of an excellent simile. It is "as though ten fingers of a
person ignorant of music were to stray over the keyboard of an instrument." The
implication is that the dream is not a psychic phenomenon, originating from
psychic motives, but the result of a physiological stimulus, which expresses
itself in psychic symptomatology because the apparatus affected by the stimulus
is not capable of any other mode of expression. Upon a similar assumption is
based the explanation of obsessions which Meynert attempted in his famous simile
of the dial on which individual figures are most deeply embossed.
Popular though this theory of the somatic dream-stimuli has become, and
seductive though it may seem, it is none the less easy to detect its weak point.
Every somatic dream-stimulus which provokes the psychic apparatus in sleep to
interpretation by the formation of illusions may evoke an incalculable number of
such attempts at interpretation. It may consequently be represented in the
dream- content by an extraordinary number of different concepts. * But the
theory of Strumpell and Wundt cannot point to any sort of motive which controls
the relation between the external stimulus and the dream-concept chosen to
interpret it, and therefore it cannot explain the "peculiar choice" which the
stimuli "often enough make in the course of their productive activity" (Lipps,
Grundtatsachen des Seelen-lebens, p. 170). Other objections may be raised
against the fundamental assumption behind the theory of illusions- the
assumption that during sleep the mind is not in a condition to recognize the
real nature of the objective sensory stimuli. The old physiologist Burdach shows
us that the mind is quite capable even during sleep of a correct interpretation
of the sensory impressions which reach it, and of reacting in accordance with
this correct interpretation, inasmuch as he demonstrates that certain sensory
impressions which seem important to the individual may be excepted from the
general neglect of the sleeping mind (as in the example of nurse and child), and
that one is more surely awakened by one's own name than by an indifferent
auditory impression; all of which presupposes, of course, that the mind
discriminates between sensations, even in sleep. Burdach infers from these
observations that we must not assume that the mind is incapable of interpreting
sensory stimuli in the sleeping state, but rather that it is not sufficiently
interested in them. The arguments which Burdach employed in 1830 reappear
unchanged in the works of Lipps (in the year 1883), where they are employed for
the purpose of attacking the theory of somatic stimuli. According to these
arguments the mind seems to be like the sleeper in the anecdote, who, on being
asked, "Are you asleep?" answers "No," and on being again addressed with the
words: "Then lend me ten florins," takes refuge in the excuse: "I am asleep."
* I would advise everyone to read the exact and detailed records (collected in
two volumes) of the dreams experimentally produced by Mourly Vold in order to
convince himself how little the conditions of the experiments help to explain
the content of the individual dream, and how little such experiments help us
towards an understanding of the problems of dreams.
The inadequacy of the theory of somatic dream-stimuli may be further
demonstrated in another way. Observation shows that external stimuli do not
oblige me to dream, even though these stimuli appear in the dream-content as
soon as I begin to dream- supposing that I do dream. In response to a touch or
pressure stimulus experienced while I am asleep, a variety of reactions are at
my disposal. I may overlook it, and find on waking that my leg has become
uncovered, or that I have been lying on an arm; indeed, pathology offers me a
host of examples of powerfully exciting sensory and motor stimuli of different
kinds which remain ineffective during sleep. I may perceive the sensation during
sleep, and through my sleep, as it were, as constantly happens in the case of
pain stimuli, but without weaving the pain into the texture of a dream. And
thirdly, I may wake up in response to the stimulus, simply in order to avoid it.
Still another, fourth, reaction is possible: namely, that the nervestimulus may
cause me to dream; but the other possible reactions occur quite as frequently as
the reaction of dream-formation. This, however, would not be the case if the
incentive to dreaming did not lie outside the somatic dream-sources.
Appreciating the importance of the above-mentioned lacunae in the explanation of
dreams by somatic stimuli, other writers- Scherner, for example, and, following
him, the philosopher Volkelt- endeavoured to determine more precisely the nature
of the psychic activities which cause the many-coloured images of our dreams to
proceed from the somatic stimuli, and in so doing they approached the problem of
the essential nature of dreams as a problem of psychology, and regarded dreaming
as a psychic activity. Scherner not only gave a poetical, vivid and glowing
description of the psychic peculiarities which unfold themselves in the course
of dream-formation, but he also believed that he had hit upon the principle of
the method the mind employs in dealing with the stimuli which are offered to it.
The dream, according to Scherner, in the free activity of the phantasy, which
has been released from the shackles imposed upon it during the day, strives to
represent symbolically the nature of the organ from which the stimulus proceeds.
Thus there exists a sort of dream-book, a guide to the interpretation of dreams,
by means of which bodily sensations, the conditions of the organs, and states of
stimulation, may be inferred from the dream-images. "Thus the image of a cat
expressed extreme ill-temper; the image of pale, smooth pastry the nudity of the
body. The human body as a whole is pictured by the phantasy of the dream as a
house, and the individual organs of the body as parts of the house. In
toothache-dreams a vaulted vestibule corresponds to the mouth, and a staircase
to the descent from the pharynx to the oesophagus; in the headache-dream a
ceiling covered with disgusting toad-like spiders is chosen to denote the upper
part of the head." "Many different symbols are employed by our dreams for the
same organ: thus the breathing lung finds its symbol in a roaring stove, filled
with flames, the heart in empty boxes and baskets, and the bladder in round,
bag-shaped or merely hollow objects. It is of particular significance that at
the close of the dream the stimulating organ or its function is often
represented without disguise and usually on the dreamer's own body. Thus the
toothache-dream commonly ends by the dreamer drawing a tooth out of his mouth."
It cannot be said that this theory of dream-interpretation has found much favour
with other writers. It seems, above all, extravagant; and so Scherner's readers
have hesitated to give it even the small amount of credit to which it is, in my
opinion, entitled. As will be seen, it tends to a revival of
dream-interpretation by means of symbolism, a method employed by the ancients;
only the province from which the interpretation is to be derived is restricted
to the human body. The lack of a scientifically comprehensible technique of
interpretation must seriously limit the applicability of Scherner's theory.
Arbitrariness in the interpretation of dreams would appear to be by no means
excluded, especially since in this case also a stimulus may be expressed in the
dream-content by several representative symbols; thus even Scherner's follower
Volkelt was unable to confirm the representation of the body as a house. Another
objection is that here again the dream-activity is regarded as a useless and
aimless activity of the mind, since, according to this theory, the mind is
content with merely forming phantasies around the stimulus with which it is
dealing, without even remotely attempting to abolish the stimulus.
Scherner's theory of the symbolization of bodily stimuli by the dream is
seriously damaged by yet another objection. These bodily stimuli are present at
all times, and it is generally assumed that the mind is more accessible to them
during sleep than in the waking state. It is therefore impossible to understand
why the mind does not dream continuously all night long, and why it does not
dream every night about all the organs. If one attempts to evade this objection
by positing the condition that special excitations must proceed from the eye,
the ear, the teeth, the bowels, etc., in order to arouse the dream-activity, one
is confronted with the difficulty of proving that this increase of stimulation
is objective; and proof is possible only in a very few cases. If the dream of
flying is a symbolization of the upward and downward motion of the pulmonary
lobes, either this dream, as has already been remarked by Strumpell, should be
dreamt much oftener, or it should be possible to show that respiration is more
active during this dream. Yet a third alternative is possible- and it is the
most probable of all- namely, that now and again special motives are operative
to direct the attention to the visceral sensations which are constantly present.
But this would take us far beyond the scope of Scherner's theory.
The value of Scherner's and Volkelt's disquisitions resides in their calling our
attention to a number of characteristics of the dream-content which are in need
of explanation, and which seem to promise fresh discoveries. It is quite true
that symbolizations of the bodily organs and functions do occur in dreams: for
example, that water in a dream often signifies a desire to urinate, that the
male genital organ may be represented by an upright staff, or a pillar, etc.
With dreams which exhibit a very animated field of vision and brilliant colours,
in contrast to the dimness of other dreams, the interpretation that they are
"dreams due to visual stimulation" can hardly be dismissed, nor can we dispute
the participation of illusion-formation in dreams which contain noise and a
medley of voices. A dream like that of Scherner's, that two rows of fair
handsome boys stood facing one another on a bridge, attacking one another, and
then resuming their positions, until finally the dreamer himself sat down on a
bridge and drew a long tooth from his jaw; or a similar dream of Volkelt's, in
which two rows of drawers played a part, and which again ended in the extraction
of a tooth; dream-formations of this kind, of which both writers relate a great
number, forbid our dismissing Scherner's theory as an idle invention without
seeking the kernel of truth which may be contained in it. We are therefore
confronted with the task of finding a different explanation of the supposed
symbolization of the alleged dental stimulus.
Throughout our consideration of the theory of the somatic sources of dreams, I
have refrained from urging the argument which arises from our analyses of
dreams. If, by a procedure which has not been followed by other writers in their
investigation of dreams, we can prove that the dream possesses intrinsic value
as psychic action, that a wish supplies the motive of its formation, and that
the experiences of the previous day furnish the most obvious material of its
content, any other theory of dreams which neglects such an important method of
investigation- and accordingly makes the dream appear a useless and enigmatical
psychic reaction to somatic stimuli- may be dismissed without special criticism.
For in this case there would have to be- and this is highly improbable- two
entirely different kinds of dreams, of which only one kind has come under our
observation, while the other kind alone has been observed by the earlier
investigators. It only remains now to find a place in our theory of dreams for
the facts on which the current doctrine of somatic dream-stimuli is based.
We have already taken the first step in this direction in advancing the thesis
that the dream-work is under a compulsion to elaborate into a unified whole all
the dream-stimuli which are simultaneously present (chapter V., A, above). We
have seen that when two or more experiences capable of making an impression on
the mind have been left over from the previous day, the wishes that result from
them are united into one dream; similarly, that the impressions possessing
psychic value and the indifferent experiences of the previous day unite in the
dream-material, provided that connecting ideas between the two can be
established. Thus the dream appears to be a reaction to everything which is
simultaneously present as actual in the sleeping mind. As far as we have
hitherto analysed the dreammaterial, we have discovered it to be a collection of
psychic remnants and memory-traces, which we were obliged to credit (on account
of the preference shown for recent and for infantile material) with a character
of psychological actuality, though the nature of this actuality was not at the
time determinable. We shall now have little difficulty in predicting what will
happen when to these actualities of the memory fresh material in the form of
sensations is added during sleep. These stimuli, again, are of importance to the
dream because they are actual; they are united with the other psychic
actualities to provide the material for dream-formation. To express it in other
words, the stimuli which occur during sleep are elaborated into a
wish-fulfilment, of which the other components are the psychic remnants of daily
experience with which we are already familiar. This combination, however, is not
inevitable; we have seen that more than one kind of behaviour toward the
physical stimuli received during sleep is possible. Where this combination is
effected, a conceptual material for the dream-content has been found which will
represent both kinds of dream-sources, the somatic as well as the psychic.
The nature of the dream is not altered when somatic material is added to the
psychic dream-sources; it still remains a wish fulfilment, no matter how its
expression is determined by the actual material available.
I should like to find room here for a number of peculiarities which are able to
modify the significance of external stimuli for the dream. I imagine that a
co-operation of individual, physiological and accidental factors, which depend
on the circumstances of the moment, determines how one will behave in individual
cases of more intensive objective stimulation during sleep; habitual or
accidental profundity of sleep, in conjunction with the intensity of the
stimulus, will in one case make it possible so to suppress the stimulus that it
will not disturb the sleeper, while in another case it will force the sleeper to
wake, or will assist the attempt to subdue the stimulus by weaving it into the
texture of the dream. In accordance with the multiplicity of these
constellations, external objective stimuli will be expressed more rarely or more
frequently in the case of one person than in that of another. In my own case.
since I am an excellent sleeper, and obstinately refuse to allow myself to be
disturbed during sleep on any pretext whatever, this intrusion of external
causes of excitation into my dreams is very rare, whereas psychic motives
apparently cause me to dream very easily. Indeed, I have noted only a single
dream in which an objective, painful source of stimulation is demonstrable, and
it will be highly instructive to see what effect the external stimulus had in
this particular dream.
I am riding a gray horse, at first timidly and awkwardly, as though I were
merely carried along. Then I meet a colleague, P, also on horseback, and dressed
in rough frieze; he is sitting erect in the saddle; he calls my attention to
something (probably to the fact that I have a very bad seat). Now I begin to
feel more and more at ease on the back of my highly intelligent horse; I sit
more comfortably, and I find that I am quite at home up here. My saddle is a
sort of pad, which completely fills the space between the neck and the rump of
the horse. I ride between two vans, and just manage to clear them. After riding
up the street for some distance, I turn round and wish to dismount, at first in
front of a little open chapel which is built facing on to the street. Then I do
really dismount in front of a chapel which stands near the first one; the hotel
is in the same street; I might let the horse go there by itself, but I prefer to
lead it thither. It seems as though I should be ashamed to arrive there on
horseback. In front of the hotel there stands a page-boy, who shows me a note of
mine which has been found, and ridicules me on account of it. On the note is
written, doubly underlined, "Eat nothing," and then a second sentence
(indistinct): something like "Do not work"; at the same time a hazy idea that I
am in a strange city, in which I do not work.
It will not at once be apparent that this dream originated under the influence,
or rather under the compulsion, of a painstimulus. The day before, however, I
had suffered from boils, which made every movement a torture, and at last a boil
had grown to the size of an apple at the root of the scrotum, and had caused me
the most intolerable pains at every step; a feverish lassitude, lack of
appetite, and the hard work which I had nevertheless done during the day, had
conspired with the pain to upset me. I was not altogether in a condition to
discharge my duties as a physician, but in view of the nature and the location
of the malady, it was possible to imagine something else for which I was most of
all unfit, namely riding. Now it is this very activity of riding into which I am
plunged by the dream; it is the most energetic denial of the pain which
imagination could conceive. As a matter of fact, I cannot ride; I do not dream
of doing so; I never sat on a horse but once- and then without a saddle- and I
did not like it. But in this dream I ride as though I had no boil on the
perineum; or rather, I ride, just because I want to have none. To judge from the
description, my saddle is the poultice which has enabled me to fall asleep.
Probably, being thus comforted, I did not feel anything of my pain during the
first few hours of my sleep. Then the painful sensations made themselves felt,
and tried to wake me; whereupon the dream came and said to me, soothingly: "Go
on sleeping, you are not going to wake! You have no boil, for you are riding on
horseback, and with a boil just there no one could ride!" And the dream was
successful; the pain was stifled, and I went on sleeping.
But the dream was not satisfied with "suggesting away" the boil by tenaciously
holding fast to an idea incompatible with the malady (thus behaving like the
hallucinatory insanity of a mother who has lost her child, or of a merchant who
has lost his fortune). In addition, the details of the sensation denied and of
the image used to suppress it serve the dream also as a means to connect other
material actually present in the mind with the situation in the dream, and to
give this material representation. I am riding on a gray horse- the colour of
the horse exactly corresponds with the pepper-and-salt suit in which I last saw
my colleague P in the country. I have been warned that highly seasoned food is
the cause of boils, and in any case it is preferable as an aetiological
explanation to sugar, which might be thought of in connection with furunculosis.
My friend P likes to ride the high horse with me ever since he took my place in
the treatment of a female patient, in whose case I had performed great feats
(Kuntstucke: in the dream I sit the horse at first sideways, like a trick-rider,
Kunstreiter), but who really, like the horse in the story of the Sunday
equestrian, led me wherever she wished. Thus the horse comes to be a symbolic
representation of a lady patient (in the dream it is highly intelligent). I feel
quite at home refers to the position which I occupied in the patient's household
until I was replaced by my colleague P. "I thought you were safe in the saddle
up there," one of my few wellwishers among the eminent physicians of the city
recently said to me, with reference to the same household. And it was a feat to
practise psychotherapy for eight to ten hours a day, while suffering such pain,
but I know that I cannot continue my peculiarly strenuous work for any length of
time without perfect physical health, and the dream is full of dismal allusions
to the situation which would result if my illness continued (the note, such as
neurasthenics carry and show to their doctors): Do not work, do not eat. On
further interpretation I see that the dream activity has succeeded in finding
its way from the wish-situation of riding to some very early childish quarrels
which must have occurred between myself and a nephew, who is a year older than
I, and is now living in England. It has also taken up elements from my journeys
in Italy: the street in the dream is built up out of impressions of Verona and
Siena. A still deeper interpretation leads to sexual dream-thoughts, and I
recall what the dream allusions to that beautiful country were supposed to mean
in the dream of a female patient who had never been to Italy (to Italy, German:
gen Italien = Genitalien = genitals); at the same time there are references to
the house in which I preceded my friend P as physician, and to the place where
the boil is located.
In another dream, I was similarly successful in warding off a threatened
disturbance of my sleep; this time the threat came from a sensory stimulus. It
was only chance, however, that enabled me to discover the connection between the
dream and the accidental dream- stimulus, and in this way to understand the
dream. One midsummer morning in a Tyrolese mountain resort I woke with the
knowledge that I had dreamed: The Pope is dead. I was not able to interpret this
short, non-visual dream. I could remember only one possible basis of the dream,
namely, that shortly before this the newspapers had reported that His Holiness
was slightly indisposed. But in the course of the morning my wife asked me: "Did
you hear the dreadful tolling of the church bells this morning?" I had no idea
that I had heard it, but now I understood my dream. It was the reaction of my
need for sleep to the noise by which the pious Tyroleans were trying to wake me.
I avenged myself on them by the conclusion which formed the content of my dream,
and continued to sleep, without any further interest in the tolling of the
bells.
Among the dreams mentioned in the previous chapters there are several which
might serve as examples of the elaboration of so called nerve-stimuli. The dream
of drinking in long draughts is such an example; here the somatic stimulus seems
to be the sole source of the dream, and the wish arising from the sensation-
thirst- the only motive for dreaming. We find much the same thing in other
simple dreams, where the somatic stimulus is able of itself to generate a wish.
The dream of the sick woman who throws the cooling apparatus from her cheek at
night is an instance of an unusual manner of reacting to a pain-stimulus with a
wish fulfilment; it seems as though the patient had temporarily succeeded in
making herself analgesic, and accompanied this by ascribing her pains to a
stranger.
My dream of the three Parcae is obviously a hunger-dream, but it has contrived
to shift the need for food right back to the child's longing for its mother's
breast, and to use a harmless desire as a mask for a more serious one that
cannot venture to express itself so openly. In the dream of Count Thun we were
able to see by what paths an accidental physical need was brought into relation
with the strongest, but also the most rigorously repressed impulses of the
psychic life. And when, as in the case reported by Garnier, the First Consul
incorporates the sound of an exploding infernal machine into a dream of battle
before it causes him to wake, the true purpose for which alone psychic activity
concerns itself with sensations during sleep is revealed with unusual clarity. A
young lawyer, who is full of his first great bankruptcy case, and falls asleep
in the afternoon, behaves just as the great Napoleon did. He dreams of a certain
G. Reich in Hussiatyn, whose acquaintance he has made in connection with the
bankruptcy case, but Hussiatyn (German: husten, to cough) forces itself upon his
attention still further; he is obliged to wake, only to hear his wife- who is
suffering from bronchial catarrh- violently coughing.
Let us compare the dream of Napoleon I- who, incidentally, was an excellent
sleeper- with that of the sleepy student, who was awakened by his landlady with
the reminder that he had to go to the hospital, and who thereupon dreamt himself
into a bed in the hospital, and then slept on, the underlying reasoning being as
follows: If I am already in the hospital, I needn't get up to go there. This is
obviously a convenience-dream; the sleeper frankly admits to himself his motive
in dreaming; but he thereby reveals one of the secrets of dreaming in general.
In a certain sense, all dreams are convenience-dreams; they serve the purpose of
continuing to sleep instead of waking. The dream is the guardian of sleep, not
its disturber. In another place we shall have occasion to justify this
conception in respect to the psychic factors that make for waking; but we can
already demonstrate its applicability to the objective external stimuli. Either
the mind does not concern itself at all with the causes of sensations during
sleep, if it is able to carry this attitude through as against the intensity of
the stimuli, and their significance, of which it is well aware; or it employs
the dream to deny these stimuli; or, thirdly, if it is obliged to recognize the
stimuli, it seeks that interpretation of them which will represent the actual
sensation as a component of a desired situation which is compatible with sleep.
The actual sensation is woven into the dream in order to deprive it of its
reality. Napoleon is permitted to go on sleeping; it is only a dream-memory of
the thunder of the guns at Arcole which is trying to disturb him. * -
* The two sources from which I know of this dream do not entirely agree as to
its content. -
The wish to sleep, to which the conscious ego has adjusted itself, and which
(together with the dream-censorship and the "secondary elaboration" to be
mentioned later) represents the ego's contribution to the dream, must thus
always be taken into account as a motive of dream-formation, and every
successful dream is a fulfilment of this wish. The relation of this general,
constantly present, and unvarying sleep-wish to the other wishes of which now
one and now another is fulfilled by the dreamcontent, will be the subject of
later consideration. In the wish to sleep we have discovered a motive capable of
supplying the deficiency in the theory of Strumpell and Wundt, and of explaining
the perversity and capriciousness of the interpretation of the external
stimulus. The correct interpretation, of which the sleeping mind is perfectly
capable, would involve active interest, and would require the sleeper to wake;
hence, of those interpretations which are possible at all, only such are
admitted as are acceptable to the dictatorial censorship of the sleep-wish. The
logic of dream situations would run, for example: "It is the nightingale, and
not the lark." For if it is the lark, love's night is at an end. From among the
interpretations of the stimulus which are thus admissible, that one is selected
which can secure the best connection with the wish- impulses that are lying in
wait in the mind. Thus everything is definitely determined, and nothing is left
to caprice. The misinterpretation is not an illusion, but- if you will- an
excuse. Here again, as in substitution by displacement in the service of the
dream-censorship, we have an act of deflection of the normal psychic procedure.
If the external nerve-stimuli and the inner bodily stimuli are sufficiently
intense to compel psychic attention, they represent- that is, if they result in
dreaming at all, and not in waking- a fixed point for dream-formation, a nucleus
in the dream-material, for which an appropriate wish-fulfilment is sought, just
as (see above) mediating ideas between two psychical dream-stimuli are sought.
To this extent it is true of a number of dreams that the somatic element
dictates the dream-content. In this extreme case even a wish that is not
actually present may be aroused for the purpose of dream-formation. But the
dream cannot do otherwise than represent a wish in some situation as fulfilled;
it is, as it were, confronted with the task of discovering what wish can be
represented as fulfilled by the given sensation. Even if this given material is
of a painful or disagreeable character, yet it is not unserviceable for the
purposes of dream-formation. The psychic life has at its disposal even wishes
whose fulfilment evokes displeasure, which seems a contradiction, but becomes
perfectly intelligible if we take into account the presence of two sorts of
psychic instance and the censorship that subsists between them.
In the psychic life there exist, as we have seen, repressed wishes, which belong
to the first system, and to whose fulfilment the second system is opposed. We do
not mean this in a historic sense- that such wishes have once existed and have
subsequently been destroyed. The doctrine of repression, which we need in the
study of psychoneuroses, asserts that such repressed wishes still exist, but
simultaneously with an inhibition which weighs them down. Language has hit upon
the truth when it speaks of the suppression (sub-pression, or pushing under) of
such impulses. The psychic mechanism which enables such suppressed wishes to
force their way to realization is retained in being and in working order. But if
it happens that such a suppressed wish is fulfilled, the vanquished inhibition
of the second system (which is capable of consciousness) is then expressed as
discomfort. And, in order to conclude this argument: If sensations of a
disagreeable character which originate from somatic sources are present during
sleep, this constellation is utilized by the dreamactivity to procure the
fulfilment- with more or less maintenance of the censorship- of an otherwise
suppressed wish.
This state of affairs makes possible a certain number of anxiety dreams, while
others of these dream-formations which are unfavourable to the wish-theory
exhibit a different mechanism. For the anxiety in dreams may of course be of a
psychoneurotic character, originating in psycho-sexual excitation, in which
case, the anxiety corresponds to repressed libido. Then this anxiety, like the
whole anxiety-dream, has the significance of a neurotic symptom, and we stand at
the dividing-line where the wish- fulfilling tendency of dreams is frustrated.
But in other anxiety- dreams the feeling of anxiety comes from somatic sources
(as in the case of persons suffering from pulmonary or cardiac trouble, with
occasional difficulty in breathing), and then it is used to help such strongly
suppressed wishes to attain fulfilment in a dream, the dreaming of which from
psychic motives would have resulted in the same release of anxiety. It is not
difficult to reconcile these two apparently contradictory cases. When two
psychic formations, an affective inclination and a conceptual content, are
intimately connected, either one being actually present will evoke the other,
even in a dream; now the anxiety of somatic origin evokes the suppressed
conceptual content, now it is the released conceptual content, accompanied by
sexual excitement, which causes the release of anxiety. In the one case, it may
be said that a somatically determined affect is psychically interpreted; in the
other case, all is of psychic origin, but the content which has been suppressed
is easily replaced by a somatic interpretation which fits the anxiety. The
difficulties which lie in the way of understanding all this have little to do
with dreams; they are due to the fact that in discussing these points we are
touching upon the problems of the development of anxiety and of repression.
The general aggregate of bodily sensation must undoubtedly be included among the
dominant dream-stimuli of internal bodily origin. Not that it is capable of
supplying the dream-content; but it forces the dream-thoughts to make a choice
from the material destined to serve the purpose of representation in the dream-
content, inasmuch as it brings within easy reach that part of the material which
is adapted to its own character, and holds the rest at a distance. Moreover,
this general feeling, which survives from the preceding day, is of course
connected with the psychic residues that are significant for the dream.
Moreover, this feeling itself may be either maintained or overcome in the dream,
so that it may, if it is painful, veer round into its opposite.
If the somatic sources of excitation during sleep- that is, the sensations of
sleep- are not of unusual intensity, the part which they play in dream-formation
is, in my judgment, similar to that of those impressions of the day which are
still recent, but of no great significance. I mean that they are utilized for
the dream formation if they are of such a kind that they can be united with the
conceptual content of the psychic dream-source, but not otherwise. They are
treated as a cheap ever-ready material, which can be used whenever it is needed,
and not as valuable material which itself prescribes the manner in which it must
be utilized. I might suggest the analogy of a connoisseur giving an artist a
rare stone, a piece of onyx, for example, in order that it may be fashioned into
a work of art. Here the size of the stone, its colour, and its markings help to
decide what head or what scene shall be represented; while if he is dealing with
a uniform and abundant material such as marble or sandstone, the artist is
guided only by the idea which takes shape in his mind. Only in this way, it
seems to me, can we explain the fact that the dreamcontent furnished by physical
stimuli of somatic origin which are not unusually accentuated does not make its
appearance in all dreams and every night. * -
* Rank has shown, in a number of studies, that certain awakening dreams provoked
by organic stimuli (dreams of urination and ejaculation) are especially
calculated to demonstrate the conflict between the need for sleep and the
demands of the organic need, as well as the influence of the latter on the
dreamcontent. -
Perhaps an example which takes us back to the interpretation of dreams will best
illustrate my meaning. One day I was trying to understand the significance of
the sensation of being inhibited, of not being able to move from the spot, of
not being able to get something done, etc., which occurs so frequently in
dreams, and is so closely allied to anxiety. That night I had the following
dream: I am very incompletely dressed, and I go from a flat on the ground- floor
up a flight of stairs to an upper story. In doing this I jump up three stairs at
a time, and I am glad to find that I can mount the stairs so quickly. Suddenly I
notice that a servant-maid is coming down the stairs- that is, towards me. I am
ashamed, and try to hurry away, and now comes this feeling of being inhibited; I
am glued to the stairs, and cannot move from the spot.
Analysis: The situation of the dream is taken from an every-day reality. In a
house in Vienna I have two apartments, which are connected only by the main
staircase. My consultation-rooms and my study are on the raised ground-floor,
and my living-rooms are on the first floor. Late at night, when I have finished
my work downstairs, I go upstairs to my bedroom. On the evening before the dream
I had actually gone this short distance with my garments in disarray- that is, I
had taken off my collar, tie and cuffs; but in the dream this had changed into a
more advanced, but, as usual, indefinite degree of undress. It is a habit of
mine to run up two or three steps at a time; moreover, there was a
wish-fulfilment recognized even in the dream, for the ease with which I run
upstairs reassures me as to the condition of my heart. Further, the manner in
which I run upstairs is an effective contrast to the sensation of being
inhibited, which occurs in the second half of the dream. It shows me- what
needed no proof- that dreams have no difficulty in representing motor actions
fully and completely carried out; think, for example, of flying in dreams!
But the stairs up which I go are not those of my own house; at first I do not
recognize them; only the person coming towards me informs me of their
whereabouts. This woman is the maid of an old lady whom I visit twice daily in
order to give her hypodermic injections; the stairs, too, are precisely similar
to those which I have to climb twice a day in this old lady's house.
How do these stairs and this woman get into my dream? The shame of not being
fully dressed is undoubtedly of a sexual character; the servant of whom I dream
is older than I, surly, and by no means attractive. These questions remind me of
the following incident: When I pay my morning visit at this house I am usually
seized with a desire to clear my throat; the sputum falls on the stairs. There
is no spittoon on either of the two floors, and I consider that the stairs
should be kept clean not at my expense, but rather by the provision of a
spittoon. The housekeeper, another elderly, curmudgeonly person, but, as I
willingly admit, a woman of cleanly instincts, takes a different view of the
matter. She lies in wait for me, to see whether I shall take the liberty
referred to, and, if she sees that I do, I can distinctly hear her growl. For
days thereafter, when we meet she refuses to greet me with the customary signs
of respect. On the day before the dream the housekeeper's attitude was
reinforced by that of the maid. I had just furnished my usual hurried visit to
the patient when the servant confronted me in the ante-room, observing: "You
might as well have wiped your shoes today, doctor, before you came into the
room. The red carpet is all dirty again from your feet." This is the only
justification for the appearance of the stairs and the maid in my dream.
Between my leaping upstairs and my spitting on the stairs there is an intimate
connection. Pharyngitis and cardiac troubles are both supposed to be punishments
for the vice of smoking, on account of which vice my own housekeeper does not
credit me with excessive tidiness, so that my reputation suffers in both the
houses which my dream fuses into one.
I must postpone the further interpretation of this dream until I can indicate
the origin of the typical dream of being incompletely clothed. In the meantime,
as a provisional deduction from the dream just related, I note that the
dream-sensation of inhibited movement is always aroused at a point where a
certain connection requires it. A peculiar condition of my motor system during
sleep cannot be responsible for this dream-content, since a moment earlier I
found myself, as though in confirmation of this fact, skipping lightly up the
stairs.
The Interpretation of Dreams Chapter 5 - D. Typical Dreams
张律师感谢您的访问。