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The Interpretation of Dreams Chapter 5 - D. Typical Dreams Psychology
V. THE MATERIAL AND SOURCES OF DREAMS (continued)
D. Typical Dreams -
(1) THE EMBARRASSMENT-DREAM OF NAKEDNESS
In a dream in which one is naked or scantily clad in the presence of strangers,
it sometimes happens that one is not in the least ashamed of one's condition.
But the dream of nakedness demands our attention only when shame and
embarrassment are felt in it, when one wishes to escape or to hide, and when one
feels the strange inhibition of being unable to stir from the spot, and of being
utterly powerless to alter the painful situation. It is only in this connection
that the dream is typical; otherwise the nucleus of its content may be involved
in all sorts of other connections, or may be replaced by individual
amplifications. The essential point is that one has a painful feeling of shame,
and is anxious to hide one's nakedness, usually by means of locomotion, but is
absolutely unable to do so. I believe that the great majority of my readers will
at some time have found themselves in this situation in a dream.
The nature and manner of the exposure is usually rather vague. The dreamer will
say, perhaps, "I was in my chemise," but this is rarely a clear image; in most
cases the lack of clothing is so indeterminate that it is described in narrating
the dream by an alternative: "I was in my chemise or my petticoat." As a rule
the deficiency in clothing is not serious enough to justify the feeling of shame
attached to it. For a man who has served in the army, nakedness is often
replaced by a manner of dressing that is contrary to regulations. "I was in the
street without my sabre, and I saw some officers approaching," or "I had no
collar," or "I was wearing checked civilian trousers," etc.
The persons before whom one is ashamed are almost always strangers, whose faces
remain indeterminate. It never happens, in the typical dream, that one is
reproved or even noticed on account of the lack of clothing which causes one
such embarrassment. On the contrary, the people in the dream appear to be quite
indifferent; or, as I was able to note in one particularly vivid dream, they
have stiff and solemn expressions. This gives us food for thought.
The dreamer's embarrassment and the spectator's indifference constitute a
contradition such as often occurs in dreams. It would be more in keeping with
the dreamer's feelings if the strangers were to look at him in astonishment, or
were to laugh at him, or be outraged. I think, however, that this obnoxious
feature has been displaced by wish-fulfilment, while the embarrassment is for
some reason retained, so that the two components are not in agreement. We have
an interesting proof that the dream which is partially distorted by wish-fulfilment
has not been properly understood; for it has been made the basis of a fairy-tale
familiar to us all in Andersen's version of The Emperor's New Clothes, and it
has more recently received poetical treatment by Fulda in The Talisman. In
Andersen's fairy-tale we are told of two impostors who weave a costly garment
for the Emperor, which shall, however, be visible only to the good and true. The
Emperor goes forth clad to this invisible garment, and since the imaginary
fabric serves as a sort of touchstone, the people are frightened into behaving
as though they did not notice the Emperor's nakedness.
But this is really the situation in our dream. It is not very venturesome to
assume that the unintelligible dream-content has provided an incentive to invent
a state of undress which gives meaning to the situation present in the memory.
This situation is thereby robbed of its original meaning, and made to serve
alien ends. But we shall see that such a misunderstanding of the dream- content
often occurs through the conscious activity of a second psychic system, and is
to be recognized as a factor of the final form of the dream; and further, that
in the development of obsessions and phobias similar misunderstandings- still,
of course, within the same psychic personality- play a decisive part. It is even
possible to specify whence the material for the fresh interpretation of the
dream is taken. The impostor is the dream, the Emperor is the dreamer himself,
and the moralizing tendency betrays a hazy knowledge of the fact that there is a
question, in the latent dream-content, of forbidden wishes, victims of
repression. The connection in which such dreams appear during my analysis of
neurotics proves beyond a doubt that a memory of the dreamer's earliest
childhood lies at the foundation of the dream. Only in our childhood was there a
time when we were seen by our relatives, as well as by strange nurses, servants
and visitors, in a state of insufficient clothing, and at that time we were not
ashamed of our nakedness. * In the case of many rather older children it may be
observed that being undressed has an exciting effect upon them, instead of
making them feel ashamed. They laugh, leap about, slap or thump their own
bodies; the mother, or whoever is present, scolds them, saying: "Fie, that is
shameful- you mustn't do that!" Children often show a desire to display
themselves; it is hardly possible to pass through a village in country districts
without meeting a two-or three-year-old child who lifts up his or her blouse or
frock before the traveller, possibly in his honour. One of my patients has
retained in his conscious memory a scene from his eighth year, in which, after
undressing for bed, he wanted to dance into his little sister's room in his
shirt, but was prevented by the servant. In the history of the childhood of
neurotics, exposure before children of the opposite sex plays a prominent part;
in paranoia, the delusion of being observed while dressing and undressing may be
directly traced to these experiences; and among those who have remained
perverse, there is a class in whom the childish impulse is accentuated into a
symptom: the class of exhibitionists.
* The child appears in the fairy-tale also, for there a little child suddenly
cries out: "But he hasn't anything on at all!" -
This age of childhood, in which the sense of shame is unknown, seems a paradise
when we look back upon it later, and paradise itself is nothing but the mass-phantasy
of the childhood of the individual. This is why in paradise men are naked and
unashamed, until the moment arrives when shame and fear awaken; expulsion
follows, and sexual life and cultural development begin. Into this paradise
dreams can take us back every night; we have already ventured the conjecture
that the impressions of our earliest childhood (from the prehistoric period
until about the end of the third year) crave reproduction for their own sake,
perhaps without further reference to their content, so that their repetition is
a wish-fulfilment. Dreams of nakedness, then, are exhibition-dreams. *
* Ferenczi has recorded a number of interesting dreams of nakedness in women
which were without difficulty traced to the infantile delight in exhibitionism,
but which differ in many features from the typical dream of nakedness discussed
above. -
The nucleus of an exhibition-dream is furnished by one's own person, which is
seen not as that of a child, but as it exists in the present, and by the idea of
scanty clothing which emerges indistinctly, owing to the superimposition of so
many later situations of being partially clothed, or out of consideration for
the censorship; to these elements are added the persons in whose presence one is
ashamed. I know of no example in which the actual spectators of these infantile
exhibitions reappear in a dream; for a dream is hardly ever a simple
recollection. Strangely enough, those persons who are the objects of our sexual
interest in childhood are omitted from all reproductions, in dreams, in hysteria
or in obsessional neurosis; paranoia alone restores the spectators, and is
fanatically convinced of their presence, although they remain unseen. The
substitute for these persons offered by the dream, the number of strangers who
take no notice of the spectacle offered them, is precisely the counter- wish to
that single intimately-known person for whom the exposure was intended. "A
number of strangers," moreover, often occur in dreams in all sorts of other
connections; as a counter-wish they always signify a secret. * It will be seen
that even that restitution of the old state of affairs that occurs in paranoia
complies with this counter-tendency. One is no longer alone; one is quite
positively being watched; but the spectators are a number of strange, curiously
indeterminate people.
* For obvious reasons the presence of the whole family in the dream has the same
significance.
Furthermore, repression finds a place in the exhibition-dream. For the
disagreeable sensation of the dream is, of course, the reaction on the part of
the second psychic instance to the fact that the exhibitionistic scene which has
been condemned by the censorship has nevertheless succeeded in presenting
itself. The only way to avoid this sensation would be to refrain from reviving
the scene.
In a later chapter we shall deal once again with the feeling of inhibition. In
our dreams it represents to perfection a conflict of the will, a denial.
According to our unconscious purpose, the exhibition is to proceed; according to
the demands of the censorship, it is to come to an end.
The relation of our typical dreams to fairy-tales and other fiction and poetry
is neither sporadic nor accidental. Sometimes the penetrating insight of the
poet has analytically recognized the process of transformation of which the poet
is otherwise the instrument, and has followed it up in the reverse direction;
that is to say, has traced a poem to a dream. A friend has called my attention
to the following passage in G. Keller's Der Grune Heinrich: "I do not wish, dear
Lee, that you should ever come to realize from experience the exquisite and
piquant truth in the situation of Odysseus, when he appears, naked and covered
with mud, before Nausicaa and her playmates! Would you like to know what it
means? Let us for a moment consider the incident closely. If you are ever parted
from your home, and from all that is dear to you, and wander about in a strange
country; if you have seen much and experienced much; if you have cares and
sorrows, and are, perhaps, utterly wretched and forlorn, you will some night
inevitably dream that you are approaching your home; you will see it shining and
glittering in the loveliest colours; lovely and gracious figures will come to
meet you; and then you will suddenly discover that you are ragged, naked, and
covered with dust. An indescribable feeling of shame and fear overcomes you; you
try to cover yourself, to hide, and you wake up bathed in sweat. As long as
humanity exists, this will be the dream of the care-laden, tempest-tossed man,
and thus Homer has drawn this situation from the profoundest depths of the
eternal nature of humanity."
What are the profoundest depths of the eternal nature of humanity, which the
poet commonly hopes to awaken in his listeners, but these stirrings of the
psychic life which are rooted in that age of childhood, which subsequently
becomes prehistoric? Childish wishes, now suppressed and forbidden, break into
the dream behind the unobjectionable and permissibly conscious wishes of the
homeless man, and it is for this reason that the dream which is objectified in
the legend of Nausicaa regularly develops into an anxiety-dream.
My own dream of hurrying upstairs, which presently changed into being glued to
the stairs, is likewise an exhibition-dream, for it reveals the essential
ingredients of such a dream. It must therefore be possible to trace it back to
experiences in my childhood, and the knowledge of these should enable us to
conclude how far the servant's behaviour to me (i.e., her reproach that I had
soiled the carpet) helped her to secure the position which she occupies in the
dream. Now I am actually able to furnish the desired explanation. One learns in
a psycho- analysis to interpret temporal proximity by material connection; two
ideas which are apparently without connection, but which occur in immediate
succession, belong to a unity which has to be deciphered; just as an a and a b,
when written in succession, must be pronounced as one syllable, ab. It is just
the same with the interrelations of dreams. The dream of the stairs has been
taken from a series of dreams with whose other members I am familiar, having
interpreted them. A dream included in this series must belong to the same
context. Now, the other dreams of the series are based on the memory of a nurse
to whom I was entrusted for a season, from the time when I was still at the
breast to the age of two and a half, and of whom a hazy recollection has
remained in my consciousness. According to information which I recently obtained
from my mother, she was old and ugly, but very intelligent and thorough;
according to the inferences which I am justified in drawing from my dreams, she
did not always treat me quite kindly, but spoke harshly to me when I showed
insufficient understanding of the necessity for cleanliness. Inasmuch as the
maid endeavoured to continue my education in this respect, she is entitled to be
treated, in my dream, as an incarnation of the prehistoric old woman. It is to
be assumed, of course, that the child was fond of his teacher in spite of her
harsh behaviour. *
* A supplementary interpretation of this dream: To spit (spucken) on the stairs,
since spuken (to haunt) is the occupation of spirits (cf. English, "spook"), led
me by a free translation to espirit d'escalier. "Stairwit" means unreadiness at
repartee, (Schlagfertigkeit = literally: "readiness to hit out") with which I
really have to reproach myself. But was the nurse deficient in Schlagfertigkeit?
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