80

II

METHOD OF DREAM INTERPRETATION

THE ANALYSIS OF A SAMPLE DREAM

THE title which I have given my treatise indicates the tradition
which I wish to make the starting-
point in my discussion of
dreams. I have made it my task to show that dreams are
capable of interpre-
tation, and contributions to the solution
of the dream problems that have just been treated can only be
yielded as possible by-
products of the settlement of my own
particular problem. With the hypothesis that dreams are
interpretable, I at once come into contradiction with the
prevailing dream science, in fact with all dream theories except
that of Scherner, for to “interpret a dream” means to declare
its meaning, to replace it by something which takes its place
in the concatenation of our psychic activities as a link of full
importance and value. But, as we have learnt, the scientific
theories of the dream leave no room for a problem of dream
interpretation, for, in the first place, according to these, the
dream is no psychic action, but a somatic process which makes
itself known to the psychic apparatus by means of signs. The
opinion of the masses has always been quite different. It
asserts its privilege of proceeding illogically, and although it
admits the dream to be incomprehensible and absurd, it
cannot summon the resolution to deny the dream all significance.
Led by a dim intuition, it seems rather to assume that the
dream has a meaning, albeit a hidden one; that it is intended
as a substitute for some other thought process, and that it is
only a question of revealing this substitute correctly in order
to reach the hidden signification of the dream.

The laity has, therefore, always endeavoured to “interpret”
the dream, and in doing so has tried two essentially different
methods. The first of these procedures regards the dream
content as a whole and seeks to replace it by another content

81

METHOD OF INTERPRETATION

which is intelligible and in certain respects analogous. This
is symbolic dream interpretation; it naturally goes to pieces
at the outset in the case of those dreams which appear not only
unintelligible but confused. The construction which the
biblical Joseph places upon the dream of Pharaoh furnishes
an example of its procedure. The seven fat kine, after which
came seven lean ones which devour the former, furnish a
symbolic substitute for a prediction of seven years of famine
in the land of Egypt, which will consume all the excess which
seven fruitful years have created. Most of the artificial dreams
contrived by poets are intended for such symbolic interpreta-
tion, for they reproduce the thought conceived by the poet
in a disguise found to be in accordance with the characteristics
of our dreaming, as we know these from experience.^* The
idea that the dream concerns itself chiefly with future events
whose course it surmises in advance—a relic of the prophetic
significance with which dreams were once credited—now
becomes the motive for transplanting the meaning of the
dream, found by means of symbolic interpretation, into the
future by means of an “it shall.”

A demonstration of the way in which such symbolic inter-
pretation is arrived at cannot, of course, be given. Success
remains a matter of ingenious conjecture, of direct intuition,
and for this reason dream interpretation has naturally been
elevated to an art, which seems to depend upon extraordinary
gifts.^† The other of the two popular methods of dream
interpretation entirely abandons such claims. It might be

^* In a novel, Gradiva, of the poet W. Jensen, I accidentally discovered
several artificial dreams which were formed with perfect correctness and
which could be interpreted as though they had not been invented, but had
been dreamt by actual persons. The poet declared, upon my inquiry, that
he was unacquainted with my theory of dreams. I have made use of this
correspondence between my investigation and the creative work of the poet
as a proof of the correctness of my method of dream analysis (“Der Wahn
und die Träume,” in W. Jensen’s Gradiva, No. 1 of the Schriften zur
angewandten Seelenkunde, 1906, edited by me). Dr. Alfred Robitsek has
since shown that the dream of the hero in Goethe’s Egmont may be inter-
preted as correctly as an actually experienced dream (“Die Analyse von
Egmont’s Träume,” Jahrbuch, edited by Bleuler-Freud, vol. ii., 1910.)

^† After the completion of my manuscript, a paper by Stumpf (⁶⁵) came
to my notice which agrees with my work in attempting to prove that the
dream is full of meaning and capable of interpretation. But the interpre-
tation is undertaken by means of an allegorising symbolism, without warrant
for the universal applicability of the procedure.

82

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

designated as the “cipher method,” since it treats the dream
as a kind of secret code, in which every sign is translated into
another sign of known meaning, according to an established
key. For example, I have dreamt of a letter, and also of a
funeral or the like; I consult a “dream book,” and find that
“letter” is to be translated by “vexation,” and “funeral”
by “marriage, engagement.” It now remains to establish a
connection, which I again am to assume pertains to the future,
by means of the rigmarole which I have deciphered. An
interesting variation of this cipher procedure, a variation by
which its character of purely mechanical transference is to a
certain extent corrected, is presented in the work on dream
interpretation by Artemidoros of Daldis.¹ Here not only the
dream content, but also the personality and station in life of
the dreamer, are taken into consideration, so that the same
dream content has a significance for the rich man, the married
man, or the orator, which is different from that for the poor
man, the unmarried man, or, say, the merchant. The essential
point, then, in this procedure is that the work of interpretation
is not directed to the entirety of the dream, but to each portion
of the dream content by itself, as though the dream were a
conglomeration, in which each fragment demands a particular
disposal. Incoherent and confused dreams are certainly the
ones responsible for the invention of the cipher method.^*

^* Dr. Alfred Robitsek calls my attention to the fact that Oriental dream
books, of which ours are pitiful plagiarisms, undertake the interpretation of
dream elements, mostly according to the assonance and similarity of the
words. Since these relationships must be lost by translation into our
language, the incomprehensibility of the substitutions in our popular “dream
books” may have its origin in this fact. Information as to the extraordinary
significance of puns and punning in ancient Oriental systems of culture may
be found in the writings of Hugo Winckler. The nicest example of a dream
interpretation which has come down to us from antiquity is based on a play
upon words. Artemidoros² relates the following (p. 225): “It seems to me
that Aristandros gives a happy interpretation to Alexander of Macedon.
When the latter held Tyros shut in and in a state of siege, and was angry
and depressed over the great loss of time, he dreamed that he saw a Satyros
dancing on his shield. It happened that Aristandros was near Tyros and in
the convoy of the king, who was waging war on the Syrians. By disjoining
the word Satyros into σα and τῦρος, he induced the king to become more
aggressive in the siege, and thus he became master of the city. (Σα τῦρος—
Sa Tyros.) The dream, indeed, is so intimately connected with verbal
expression that Ferenczi³ may justly remark that every tongue has its
own dream language. Dreams are, as a rule, not translatable into other
languages.

83

METHOD OF INTERPRETATION

The worthlessness of both these popular interpretation
procedures for the scientific treatment of the subject cannot be
questioned for a moment. The symbolic method is limited
in its application and is capable of no general demonstration.
In the cipher method everything depends upon whether the
key, the dream book, is reliable, and for that all guarantees
are lacking. One might be tempted to grant the contention
of the philosophers and psychiatrists and to dismiss the
problem of dream interpretation as a fanciful one.

I have come, however, to think differently. I have been
forced to admit that here once more we have one of those not
infrequent cases where an ancient and stubbornly retained
popular belief seems to have come nearer to the truth of the
matter than the judgment of the science which prevails to-
day. I must insist that the dream actually has significance, and that
a scientific procedure in dream interpretation is possible. I
have come upon the knowledge of this procedure in the follow-
ing manner:—

For several years I have been occupied with the solution
of certain psychopathological structures in hysterical phobias,
compulsive ideas, and the like, for therapeutic purposes. I
have been so occupied since becoming familiar with an import-
ant report of Joseph Breuer to the effect that in those struc-
tures, regarded as morbid symptoms, solution and treatment
go hand in hand.^* Where it has been possible to trace such
a pathological idea back to the elements in the psychic life of
the patient to which it owes its origin, this idea has crumbled
away, and the patient has been relieved of it. In view of the
failure of our other therapeutic efforts, and in the face of the
mysteriousness of these conditions, it seems to me tempting, in
spite of all difficulties, to press forward on the path taken by
Breuer until the subject has been fully understood. We shall
have elsewhere to make a detailed report upon the form which
the technique of this procedure has finally assumed, and the
results of the efforts which have been made. In the course
of these psychoanalytical studies, I happened upon dream
interpretation. My patients, after I had obliged them to
inform me of all the ideas and thoughts which came to them in
connection with the given theme, related their dreams, and

^*Breuer and Freud, Studien über Hysterie, Vienna, 1895; 2nd ed. 1909.

84

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

thus taught me that a dream may be linked into the psychic
concatenation which must be followed backwards into the
memory from the pathological idea as a starting-
point. The
next step was to treat the dream as a symptom, and to apply
to it the method of interpretation which had been worked out
for such symptoms.

For this a certain psychic preparation of the patient is
necessary. The double effort is made with him, to stimulate
his attention for his psychic perceptions and to eliminate the
critique with which he is ordinarily in the habit of viewing
the thoughts which come to the surface in him. For the pur-
pose of self-observation with concentrated attention, it is
advantageous that the patient occupy a restful position and
close his eyes; he must be explicitly commanded to resign
the critique of the thought-formations which he perceives.
He must be told further that the success of the psychoanalysis
depends upon his noticing and telling everything that passes
through his mind, and that he must not allow himself to
suppress one idea because it seems to him unimportant or
irrelevant to the subject, or another because it seems non-
sensical. He must maintain impartiality towards his ideas ;
for it would be owing to just this critique if he were unsuccessful
in finding the desired solution of the dream, the obsession, or
the like.

I have noticed in the course of my psychoanalytic work
that the state of mind of a man in contemplation is entirely
different from that of a man who is observing his psychic
processes. In contemplation there is a greater play of psychic
action than in the most attentive self-observation ; this is
also shown by the tense attitude and wrinkled brow of
contemplation, in contrast with the restful features of self-
observation. In both cases, there must be concentration of
attention, but, besides this, in contemplation one exercises a
critique, in consequence of which he rejects some of the ideas
which he has perceived, and cuts short others, so that he does
not follow the trains of thought which they would open ;
toward still other thoughts he may act in such a manner that
they do not become conscious at all—that is to say, they are
suppressed before they are perceived. In self-observation,
on the other hand, one has only the task of suppressing the

85

critique; if he succeeds in this, an unlimited number of ideas,
which otherwise would have been impossible for him to grasp,
come to his consciousness. With the aid of this material,
newly secured for the purpose of self-observation, the inter-
pretation of pathological ideas, as well as of dream images, can
be accomplished. As may be seen, the point is to bring about
a psychic state to some extent analogous as regards the appor-
tionment of psychic energy (transferable attention) to the
state prior to falling asleep (and indeed also to the hypnotic
state). In falling asleep, the “undesired ideas” come into
prominence on account of the slackening of a certain arbitrary
(and certainly also critical) action, which we allow to exert
an influence upon the trend of our ideas; we are accustomed
to assign “fatigue” as the reason for this slackening; the
emerging undesired ideas as the reason are changed into visual
and acoustic images. (Cf. the remarks of Schleiermacher⁶¹⁾
and others, p. 40.) In the condition which is used for the
analysis of dreams and pathological ideas, this activity is
purposely and arbitrarily dispensed with, and the psychic
energy thus saved, or a part of it, is used for the attentive
following of the undesired thoughts now coming to the surface,
which retain their identity as ideas (this is the difference from
the condition of falling asleep). “Undesired ideas” are thus
changed into “desired” ones.

The suspension thus required of the critique for these
apparently “freely rising” ideas, which is here demanded
and which is usually exercised on them, is not easy for some
persons. The “undesired ideas” are in the habit of starting
the most violent resistance, which seeks to prevent them from
coming to the surface. But if we may credit our great poet-
philosopher Friedrich Schiller, a very similar tolerance must
be the condition of poetic production. At a point in his
correspondence with Koerner, for the noting of which we are
indebted to Mr. Otto Rank, Schiller answers a friend who
complains of his lack of creativeness in the following words :

“The reason for your complaint lies, it seems to me, in the
constraint which your intelligence imposes upon your imagina-
tion. I must here make an observation and illustrate it by an
allegory. It does not seem beneficial, and it is harmful for
the creative work of the mind, if the intelligence inspects too

86

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

closely the ideas already pouring in, as it were, at the gates.
Regarded by itself, an idea may be very trifling and very ad-
venturous, but it perhaps becomes important on account of
one which follows it ; perhaps in a certain connection with
others, which may seem equally absurd, it is capable of forming
a very useful construction. The intelligence cannot judge all
these things if it does not hold them steadily long enough to
see them in connection with the others. In the case of a
creative mind, however, the intelligence has withdrawn its
watchers from the gates, the ideas rush in pell-mell, and it is
only then that the great heap is looked over and critically
examined. Messrs. Critics, or whatever else you may call
yourselves, you are ashamed or afraid of the momentary and
transitory madness which is found in all creators, and whose
longer or shorter duration distinguishes the thinking artist
from the dreamer. Hence your complaints about barrenness,
for you reject too soon and dis-
criminate too severely ” (Letter
of December 1, 1788).

And yet, “ such a withdrawal of the watchers from the
gates of intelligence,” as Schiller calls it, such a shifting into
the condition of un-
critical self-observation, is in no way
difficult.

Most of my patients accomplish it after the first instructions ;
I myself can do it very perfectly, if I assist the operation by
writing down my notions. The amount, in terms of psychic
energy, by which the critical activity is in this manner reduced,
and by which the intensity of the self-observation may be
increased, varies widely according to the subject matter upon
which the attention is to be fixed.

The first step in the application of this procedure now
teaches us that not the dream as a whole, but only the parts
of its contents separately, may be made the object of our
attention. If I ask a patient who is as yet un-
practised :
“ What occurs to you in connection with this dream ? ” as
a rule he is unable to fix upon anything in his psychic field of
vision. I must present the dream to him piece by piece, then
for every fragment he gives me a series of notions, which
may be designated as the “ back-
ground thoughts ” of this
part of the dream. In this first and impor-
tant condition, then,
(the method of dream interpretation which I employ avoids

87

METHOD OF INTERPRETATION

the popular, traditional method of interpretation by symbolism
famous in the legends, and approaches the second, the “cipher
method.” (Like this one it is an interpretation in detail, not
en masse ; like this it treats the dream from the beginning as
something put together—as a conglomeration of psychic images.)

In the course of my psychoanalysis of neurotics, I have
indeed already subjected many thousand dreams to inter-
pretation, but I do not now wish to use this material in the
introduction to the technique and theory of dream interpreta-
tion. Quite apart from the consideration that I should expose
myself to the objection that these are dreams of neuropathic
subjects, the conclusions drawn from which would not admit
of reapplication to the dreams of healthy persons, another
reason forces me to reject them. The theme which is naturally
always the subject of these dreams, is the history of the disease
which is responsible for the neurosis. For this purpose there
would be required a very long introduction and an investiga-
tion into the nature and logical conditions of psychoneuroses,
things which are in themselves novel and unfamiliar in the
highest degree, and which would thus distract attention from
the dream problem. My purpose lies much more in the
direction of preparing the ground for a solution of difficult
problems in the psychology of the neuroses by means of the
solution of dreams. But if I eliminate the dreams of neurotics,
I must not treat the remainder too discriminatingly. Only
those dreams still remain which have been occasionally related
to me by healthy persons of my acquaintance, or which I find
as examples in the literature of dream life. Unfortunately
in all these dreams the analysis is lacking, without which I
cannot find the meaning of the dream. My procedure is, of
course, not as easy as that of the popular cipher method, which
translates the given dream content according to an established
key ; I am much more prepared to find that the same dream
may cover a different meaning in the case of different persons,
and in a different connection I must then resort to my own
dreams, as an abundant and convenient material, furnished
by a person who is about normal, and having reference to many
incidents of everyday life. I shall certainly be with doubts
as to the trustworthiness of these “self-analyses.” Arbitrari-
ness is here in no way avoided. In my opinion, conditions are

88

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

more likely to be favourable in self-observation than in the
observation of others; in any case, it is permissible to see how
much can be accomplished by means of self-analysis. I must
overcome further difficulties arising from inner self. One has
a readily understood aversion to exposing so many intimate
things from one’s own psychic life, and one does not feel safe
from the misinterpretation of strangers. But one must be
able to put one’s self beyond this. “Toute psychologiste,”
writes Delbœuf,²⁶ “est obligé de faire l’aveu même de ses
faiblesses s’il croit par là jeter du jour sur quelque problème
obscure.” And I may assume that in the case of the reader,
the immediate interest in the indiscretions which I must
commit will very soon give way to exclusive engrossment in
the psychological problems which are illuminated by them.

I shall, therefore, select one of my own dreams and use it to
elucidate my method of interpretation. Every such dream
necessitates a preliminary statement. I must now beg the
reader to make my interests his own for a considerable time,
and to become absorbed with me in the most trifling details
of my life, for an interest in the hidden significance of dreams
imperatively demands such transference.

Preliminary statement: In the summer of 1895 I had
psychoanalytically treated a young lady who stood in close
friendship to me and those near to me. It is to be understood
that such a complication of relations may be the source of
manifold feelings for the physician, especially for the psycho-
therapist. The personal interest of the physician is greater,
his authority is less. A failure threatens to undermine the
friendship with the relatives of the patient. The cure ended
with partial success, the patient got rid of her hysterical fear,
but not of all her somatic symptoms. I was at that time
not yet sure of the criteria marking the final settlement of a
hysterical case, and expected her to accept a solution which did
not seem acceptable to her. In this disagreement, we cut
short the treatment on account of the summer season. One
day a younger colleague, one of my best friends, who had
visited the patient—Irma—and her family in their country
resort, came to see me. I asked him how he found her, and
received the answer: “She is better, but not altogether well.”
I realise that those words of my friend Otto, or the tone of

89

METHOD OF INTERPRETATION

voice in which they were spoken, made me angry. I thought
I heard a reproach in the words, perhaps to the effect that I
had promised the patient too much, and rightly or wrongly
I traced Otto’s supposed siding against me to the influence
of the relatives of the patient, who, I assume, had never
approved of my treatment. Moreover, my disagreeable im-
pression did not become clear to me, nor did I give it ex-
pression. The very same evening, I wrote down the history
of Irma’s case, in order to hand it, as though for my justifica-
tion, to Dr. M., a mutual friend, who was at that time a leading
figure in our circle. During the night following this evening
(perhaps rather in the morning) I had the following dream,
which was registered immediately after waking:—

DREAM OF JULY 23–24, 1895

A great hall—many guests whom we are receiving—among
them Irma, whom I immediately take aside, as though to answer
her letter, to reproach her for not yet accepting the “solution.”
I say to her: “If you still have pains, it is really only your own
fault.” She answers: “If you only knew what pains I now
have in the neck, stomach, and abdomen; I am drawn together.”
I am frightened and look at her. She looks pale and bloated; I
think that after all I must be overlooking some organic affection.
I take her to the window and look into her throat. She shows
some resistance to this, like a woman who has a false set of teeth.
I think anyway she does not need them. The mouth then really
opens without difficulty and I find a large white spot to the right,
and at another place I see extended grayish-white scabs attached
to curious curling formations, which have obviously been formed
like the turbinated bone—I quickly call Dr. M., who repeats the
examination and confirms it. . . . Dr. M.’s looks are altogether
unusual; he is very pale, limps, and has no beard on his chin.
. . . My friend Otto is now also standing next to her, and my
friend Leopold percusses her small body and says: “She has
some dulness on the left below,” and also calls attention to an
infiltrated portion of the skin on the left shoulder (something
which I feel as he does, in spite of the dress). . . . M. says: “No
doubt it is an infection, but it does not matter; dysentery will
develop too, and the poison will be excreted. . . . We also have

90

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

immediate knowledge of the origin of the infection. My friend
Otto has recently given her an injection with a propyl preparation
when she felt ill, propyls. . . . Propionic acid . . . Trimethy-
lamine (the formula of which I see printed before me in heavy
type). . . . Such injections are not made so rashly. . . . Pro-
bably also the syringe was not clean.

This dream has an advantage over many others. It is
at once clear with what events of the preceding day it is con-
nected, and what subject it treats. The preliminary statement
gives information on these points. The news about Irma’s
health which I have received from Otto, the history of the
illness upon which I have written until late at night, have
occupied my psychic activity even during sleep. In spite of
all this, no one, who has read the preliminary report and has
knowledge of the content of the dream, has been able to guess
what the dream signifies. Nor do I myself know. I wonder
about the morbid symptoms, of which Irma complains in the
dream, for they are not the same ones for which I have treated
her. I smile at the consultation with Dr. M. I smile at
the nonsensical idea of an injection with propionic acid, and at
the consolation attempted by Dr. M. Towards the end the
dream seems more obscure and more terse than at the be-
ginning. In order to learn the significance of all this, I am
compelled to undertake a thorough analysis.

ANALYSIS

The hall—many guests, whom we are receiving.
We were living this summer at the Bellevue, in an isolated
house on one of the hills which lie close to the Kahlenberg.
This house was once intended as a place of amusement, and
on this account has unusually high, hall-like rooms. The
dream also occurred at the Bellevue, a few days before the
birthday of my wife. During the day, my wife had expressed
the expectation that several friends, among them Irma, would
come to us as guests for her birthday. My dream, then,
anticipates this situation: It is the birthday of my wife, and
many people, among them Irma, are received by us as guests
in the great hall of the Bellevue.

I reproach Irma for not having accepted the solution. I say:
“If you still have pains, it is your own fault.”

91

I might have said this also, or did say it, while awake. At
that time I had the opinion (recognised later to be incorrect)
that my task was limited to informing patients of the hidden
meaning of their symptoms. Whether they then accepted or
did not accept the solution upon which success depended—for
that I was not responsible. I am thankful to this error, which
fortunately has now been overcome, for making life easier for
me at a time when, with all my unavoidable ignorance, I
was to produce successful cures. But I see in the speech
which I make to Irma in the dream, that above all things I
do not want to be to blame for the pains which she still feels.
If it is Irma’s own fault, it cannot be mine. Should the
purpose of the dream be looked for in this quarter ?

Irma’s complaints; pains in the neck, abdomen, and stomach;
she is drawn together.

Pains in the stomach belonged to the symptom-
complex of
my patient, but they were not very prominent ; she com-
plained rather of sensations of nausea and disgust. Pains in
the neck and abdomen and constriction of the throat hardly
played a part in her case. I wonder why I decided upon this
choice of symptoms, nor can I for the moment find the reason.

She looks pale and bloated.

My patient was always ruddy. I suspect that another
person is here being substituted for her.

I am frightened at the thought that I must have overlooked some
organic affection.

This, as the reader will readily believe, is a constant fear
with the specialist, who sees neurotics almost exclusively,
and who is accustomed to ascribe so many manifestations,
which other physicians treat as organic, to hysteria. On the
other hand, I am haunted by a faint doubt—I know not whence
it comes—as to whether my fear is altogether honest. If
Irma’s pains are indeed of organic origin, I am not bound to
cure them. My treatment, of course, removes only hysterical
pains. It seems to me, in fact, that I wish to find an error in
the diagnosis ; in that case the reproach of being unsuccessful
would be removed.

I take her to the window in order to look into her throat. She
resists a little, like a woman who has false teeth. I think she does
not need them anyway.

92

I had never had occasion to inspect Irma’s aural cavity.
The incident in the dream reminds me of an examination,
made some time before, of a governess who at first gave an
impression of youthful beauty, but who upon opening her
mouth took certain measures for concealing her teeth. Other
memories of medical examinations and of little secrets which
are discovered by them, unpleasantly for both examiner and
examined, connect themselves with this case. “She does not
need them anyway,” is at first perhaps a compliment for
Irma; but I suspect a different meaning. In careful analysis
one feels whether or not the “background thoughts” which
are to be expected have been exhausted. The way in which
Irma stands at the window suddenly reminds me of another
experience. Irma possesses an intimate woman friend, of
whom I think very highly. One evening on paying her a visit
I found her in the position at the window reproduced in the
dream, and her physician, the same Dr. M., declared that she
had a diphtheritic membrane. The person of Dr. M. and the
membrane return in the course of the dream. Now it occurs
to me that during the last few months, I have been given every
reason to suppose that this lady is also hysterical. Yes, Irma
herself has betrayed this to me. But what do I know about
her condition? Only the one thing, that like Irma she
suffers from hysterical choking in dreams. Thus in the
dream I have replaced my patient by her friend. Now I
remember that I have often trifled with the expectation that
this lady might likewise engage me to relieve her of her
symptoms. But even at the time I thought it improbable,
for she is of a very shy nature. She resists, as the dream
shows. Another explanation might be that she does not need
it; in fact, until now she has shown herself strong enough to
master her condition without outside help. Now only a few
features remain, which I can assign neither to Irma nor to her
friend : Pale, bloated, false teeth. The false teeth lead me to
the governess ; I now feel inclined to be satisfied with bad
teeth. Then another person, to whom these features may
allude, occurs to me. She is not my patient, and I do not
wish her to be my patient, for I have noticed that she is not
at her ease with me, and I do not consider her a docile patient.
She is generally pale, and once, when she had a particularly

93

good spell, she was bloated.^* I have thus compared my
patient Irma with two others, who would likewise resist
treatment. What can it mean that I have exchanged her for
her friend in the dream? Perhaps that I wish to exchange
her ; either the one arouses in me stronger sympathies
or I have a higher opinion of her intelligence. For I consider
Irma foolish because she does not accept my solution. The
other one would be more sensible, and would thus be more
likely to yield. The mouth then really opens without difficulty ;
she would tell more than Irma.^†

What I see in the throat ; a white spot and scabby nostrils.
The white spot recalls diphtheria, and thus Irma’s friend,
but besides this it recalls the grave illness of my eldest daughter
two years before and all the anxiety of that unfortunate time.
The scab on the nostrils reminds me of a concern about my own
health. At that time I often used cocaine in order to suppress
annoying swellings in the nose, and had heard a few days before
that a lady patient who did likewise had contracted an ex-
tensive necrosis of the nasal mucous membrane. The re-
commendation of cocaine, which I had made in 1885, had also
brought grave reproaches upon me. A dear friend, already
dead in 1895, had hastened his end through the misuse of this
remedy.

I quickly call Dr. M., who repeats the examination.
This would simply correspond to the position which M.
occupied among us. But the word “quickly” is striking
enough to demand a special explanation. It reminds me of a
sad medical experience. By the continued prescription of a
remedy (sulfonal) which was still at that time considered
harmless, I had once caused the severe intoxication of a
woman patient, and I had turned in great haste to an older,

^* The complaint, as yet unexplained, of pains in the abdomen, may also
be referred to this third person. It is my own wife, of course, who is in
question ; the abdominal pains remind me of one of the occasions upon
which her shyness became evident to me. I must myself admit that I do
not treat Irma and my wife very gallantly in this dream, but let it be said
for my excuse that I am judging both of them by the standard of the
courageous, docile, female patient.

^† I suspect that the interpretation of this portion has not been carried
far enough to follow every hidden meaning. If I were to continue the
comparison of the three women, I would go far afield. Every dream has at
least one point at which it is unfathomable, a central point, as it were, con-
necting it with the unknown.

94

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

more experienced colleague for assistance. The fact that I
really had this case in mind is confirmed by an accessory
circumstance. The patient, who succumbed to the intoxica-
tion, bore the same name as my eldest daughter. I had never
thought of this until now; now it seems to me almost like a
retribution of fate—as though I ought to continue the replace-
ment of the persons here in another sense; this Matilda for
that Matilda; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It is as
though I were seeking every opportunity to reproach myself
with lack of medical conscientiousness.

Dr. M. is pale, without a beard on his chin, and he limps.

Of this so much is correct, that his unhealthy appearance
often awakens the concern of his friends. The other two
characteristics must belong to another person. A brother
living abroad occurs to me, who wears his chin clean-shaven,
and to whom, if I remember aright, M. of the dream on the
whole bears some resemblance. About him the news arrived
some days before that he was lame on account of an arthritic
disease in the hip. There must be a reason why I fuse the two
persons into one in the dream. I remember that in fact I
was on bad terms with both of them for similar reasons. Both
of them had rejected a certain proposal which I had recently
made to them.

My friend Otto is now standing next to the sick woman, and
my friend Leopold examines her and calls attention to a dulness
on the left below.

My friend Leopold is also a physician, a relative of Otto.
Since the two practise the same specialty, fate has made them
competitors, who are continually being compared with each
other. Both of them assisted me for years, while I was still
directing a public dispensary for nervous children. Scenes
like the one reproduced in the dream have often taken place
there. While I was debating with Otto about the diagnosis of
a case, Leopold had examined the child anew and had made
an unexpected contribution towards the decision. For there
was a difference of character between the two similar to that
between Inspector Brassig and his friend Charles. The one
was distinguished for his brightness, the other was slow,
thoughtful, but thorough. If I contrast Otto and the careful
Leopold in the dream, I do it, apparently, in order to extol

95

Leopold. It is a comparison similar to the one above between
the disobedient patient Irma and her friend who is thought to
be more sensible. I now become aware of one of the tracks
along which the thought association of the dream progresses ;
from the sick child to the children’s asylum. The dulness to
the left, below, recalls a certain case corresponding to it, in
every detail in which Leopold astonished me by his thorough-
ness. Besides this, I have a notion of something like a metastatic
affection, but it might rather be a reference to the lady patient
whom I should like to have instead of Irma. For this lady, as
far as I can gather, resembles a woman suffering from tuber-
culosis.

An infiltrated portion of skin on the left shoulder.

I see at once that this is my own rheumatism of the shoulder,
which I always feel when I have remained awake until late at
night. The turn of phrase in the dream also sounds ambiguous ;
something which I feel ... in spite of the dress. “Feel on
my own body” is intended. Moreover, I am struck with the
unusual sound of the term “infiltrated portion of skin.” “An
infiltration behind on the upper left” is what we are accus-
tomed to ; this would refer to the lung, and thus again to
tuberculosis patients.

In spite of the dream.

This, to be sure, is only an interpolation. We, of course,
examine the children in the clinic undressed ; it is some sort
of contradiction to the manner in which grown-up female
patients must be examined. The story used to be told of a
prominent clinician that he always examined his patients
physically only through the clothes. The rest is obscure to
me ; I have, frankly, no inclination to follow the matter
further.

Dr. M. says : “It is an infection, but it does not matter.
Dysentery will develop, and the poison will be excreted.”

This at first seems ridiculous to me ; still it must be care-
fully analysed like everything else. Observed more closely,
it seems, however, to have a kind of meaning. What I had
found in the patient was local diphtheritis. I remember the
discussion about diphtheritis and diphtheria at the time of
my daughter’s illness. The latter is the general infection
which proceeds from local diphtheritis. Leopold proves the

96

existence of such general infection by means of the dulness,
which thus suggests a metastatic lesion. I believe, however,
that just this kind of metastasis does not occur in the case of
diphtheria. It rather recalls pyæmia.

It does not matter, is a consolation. I believe it fits in as
follows : The last part of the dream has yielded a content to
the effect that the pains of the patient are the result of a serious
organic affection. I begin to suspect that with this I am only
trying to shift the blame from myself. Psychic treatment
cannot be held responsible for the continued presence of
diphtheritic affection. But now, in turn, I am disturbed at
inventing such serious suffering for Irma for the sole purpose
of exculpating myself. It seems cruel. I need (accordingly)
the assurance that the result will be happy, and it does not
seem ill-advised that I should put the words of consolation
into the mouth of Dr. M. But here I consider myself superior
to the dream, a fact which needs explanation.
But why is this consolation so nonsensical ?

Dysentery :

Some sort of far-
fetched theoretical notion that pathological
material may be removed through the intestines. Am I in
this way trying to make fun of Dr. M.’s great store of far-
fetched explanations, his habit of finding curious pathological
relationships ? Dysentery suggests something else. A few
months ago I had in charge a young man suffering from re-
markable pains during evacuation of the bowels, a case which
colleagues had treated as “anæmia with malnutrition.” I
realised that it was a question of hysteria ; I was unwilling
to use my psychotherapy on him, and sent him off on a sea
voyage. Now a few days before I had received a despairing
letter from him from Egypt, saying that while there he had
suffered a new attack, which the physician had declared to be
dysentery. I suspect, indeed, that the diagnosis was only an
error of my ignorant colleague, who allows hysteria to make a
fool of him ; but still I cannot avoid reproaching myself for
putting the invalid in a position where he might contract an
organic affection of the bowels in addition to his hysteria.
Furthermore, dysentery sounds like diphtheria, a word which
does not occur in the dream.

Indeed it must be that, with the consoling prognosis :

97

“Dysentery will develop, &c.,” I am making fun of Dr. M.,
for I recollect that years ago he once jokingly told a very similar
story of another colleague. He had been called to consult
with this colleague in the case of a woman who was very
seriously ill and had felt obliged to confront the other phy-
sician, who seemed very hopeful, with the fact that he found
albumen in the patient’s urine. The colleague, however, did
not let this worry him, but answered calmly: “That does not
matter, doctor; the albumen will without doubt be excreted.”
Thus I can no longer doubt that derision for those colleagues
who are ignorant of hysteria is contained in this part of the
dream. As though in confirmation, this question now arises
in my mind: “Does Dr. M. know that the symptoms of his
patient, of our friend Irma, which give cause for fearing
tuberculosis, are also based on hysteria? Has he recognised
this hysteria, or has he stupidly ignored it?”

But what can be my motive in treating this friend so badly?
This is very simple: Dr. M. agrees with my solution as little
as Irma herself. I have thus already in this dream taken
revenge on two persons, on Irma in the words, “If you still
have pains, it is your own fault,” and on Dr. M. in the wording
of the nonsensical consolation which has been put into his
mouth.

We have immediate knowledge of the origin of the infection.
This immediate knowledge in the dream is very remarkable.
Just before we did not know it, since the infection was first
demonstrated by Leopold.

My friend Otto has recently given her an injection when she
felt ill.

Otto had actually related that in the short time of his visit
to Irma’s family, he had been called to a neighbouring hotel
in order to give an injection to some one who fell suddenly ill.
Injections again recall the unfortunate friend who has poisoned
himself with cocaine. I had recommended the remedy to
him merely for internal use during the withdrawal of morphine,
but he once gave himself injections of cocaine.

With a propyl prepa-
ration … propyls … propionic acid.

How did this ever occur to me? On the same evening on
which I had written part of the history of the disease before
having the dream, my wife opened a bottle of cordial labelled
G

98

fleece

“Ananas,”^* (which was a present from our friend Otto.
For he had a habit of making presents on every possible
occasion ; I hope he will some day be cured of this by a wife).^†
Such a smell of fusel oil arose from this cordial that I refused
to taste it. My wife observed : “We will give this bottle to
the servants,” and I, still more prudent, forbade it, with the
philanthropic remark : “They mustn’t be poisoned either.” The
smell of fusel oil (amyl …) has now apparently awakened
in my memory the whole series, propyl, methyl, &c., which has
furnished the propyl preparation of the dream. In this, it is
true, I have employed a substitution ; I have dreamt of
propyl, after smelling amyl, but substitutions of this kind are
perhaps permissible, especially in organic chemistry.
Trimethylamin. I see the chemical formula of this substance
in the dream, a fact which probably gives evidence of a great
effort on the part of my memory, and, moreover, the formula is
printed in heavy type, as if to lay special stress upon something
of particular importance, as distinguished from the context. To
what does this trimethylamin lead, which has been so forcibly
called to my attention ? It leads to a conversation with
another friend who for years has known all my germinating
activities, as I have his. At that time he had just informed
me of some of his ideas about sexual chemistry, and had
mentioned, among others, that he recognised in tri-
methylamin one of the products of sexual metabolism. This
substance thus leads me to sexuality, to that factor which I
credit with the greatest significance for the origin of the nervous
affections which I attempt to cure. My patient Irma is a
young widow ; if I am anxious to excuse the failure of her
cure, I suppose I shall best do so by referring to this condition,
which her admirers would be glad to change. How remarkably,
too, such a dream is fashioned ! The other woman, whom I
take as my patient in the dream instead of Irma, is also a
young widow.

I suspect why the formula of trimethylamin has made

^* “Ananas,” moreover, has a remarkable assonance to the family name of
my patient Irma.

^† In this the dream did not turn out to be prophetic. But in another
sense, it proved correct, for the “unsolved” stomach pains, for which I did
not want to be to blame, were the forerunners of a serious illness caused by
gall stones.

99

METHOD OF INTERPRETATION

itself so prominent in the dream. So many important things
are gathered up in this one word : Trimethylamine is not only
an allusion to the overpowering factor of sexuality, but also
to a person whose sympathy I remember with satisfaction when
I feel myself forsaken in my opinions. Should not this friend,
who plays such a large part in my life, occur again in the chain
of thoughts of the dream ? Of course, he must ; he is par-
ticularly acquainted with the results which proceed from
affections of the nose and its adjacent cavities, and has re-
vealed to science several highly remarkable relations of the
turbinated bones to the female sexual organs (the three
curly formations in Irma’s throat). I have had Irma examined
by him to see whether the pains in her stomach might be
of nasal origin. But he himself suffers from suppurative
rhinitis, which worries him, and to this perhaps there is an
allusion in pyæmia, which hovers before me in the metastases
of the dream.

Such injections are not made so rashly. Here the reproach of
carelessness is hurled directly at my friend Otto. I am under
the impression that I had some thought of this sort in the
afternoon, when he seemed to indicate his siding against
me by word and look. It was perhaps : “How easily he
can be influenced ; how carelessly he pronounces judgment.”
Furthermore, the above sentence again points to my deceased
friend, who so lightly took refuge in cocaine injections. As
I have said, I had not intended injections of the remedy at
all. I see that in reproaching Otto I again touch upon the
story of the unfortunate Matilda, from which arises the same
reproach against me. Obviously I am here collecting examples
of my own conscientiousness, but also of the opposite.

Probably also the syringe was not clean. Another reproach
directed at Otto, but originating elsewhere. The day before I
happened to meet the son of a lady eighty-two years of age
whom I am obliged to give daily two injections of morphine.
At present she is in the country, and I have heard that she is
suffering from an inflammation of the veins. I immediately
thought that it was a case of infection due to contamination
from the syringe. It is my pride that in two years I have not
given her a single infection ; I am constantly concerned, of
course, to see that the syringe is perfectly clean. For I am

100

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS

conscientious. From the inflammation of the veins, I return
to my wife, who had suffered from emboli during a period of
pregnancy, and now three related situations come to the
surface in my memory, involving my wife, Irma, and the
deceased Matilda, the identity of which three persons plainly
justifies my putting them in one another’s place.

I have now completed the interpretation of the dream.^*
In the course of this interpretation I have taken great pains
to get possession of all the notions to which a comparison
between the dream content and the dream thoughts hidden
behind it must have given rise. Meanwhile, the “meaning”
of the dream has dawned upon me. I have become conscious
of a purpose which is realised by means of the dream, and which
must have been the motive for dreaming. The dream fulfils
several wishes, which have been actuated in me by the events
of the preceding evening (Otto’s news, and the writing down of
the history of the disease). For the result of the dream is
that I am not to blame for the suffering which Irma still has,
and that Otto is to blame for it. Now Otto has made me angry
by his remark about Irma’s imperfect cure; the dream avenges
me upon him by turning the reproach back upon himself.
The dream acquits me of responsibility for Irma’s condition
by referring it to other causes, which indeed furnish a great
number of explanations. The dream represents a certain
condition of affairs as I should wish it to be; the content of the
dream is thus the fulfilment of a wish; its motive is a wish.

This much is apparent at first sight. But many things in
the details of the dream become intelligible when regarded from
the point of view of wish-
fulfilment. I take revenge on Otto,
not only for hastily taking part against me, in that I accuse
him of a careless medical operation (the injection), but I am
also avenged on him for the bad cordial which smells like fusel
oil, and I find an expression in the dream which unites both
reproaches; the injection with a preparation of propyl. Still
I am not satisfied, but continue my revenge by comparing
him to his more reliable competitor. I seem to say by this:
“I like him better than you.” But Otto is not the only one
who must feel the force of my anger. I take revenge on the

^*Even if I have not, as may be understood, given account of everything
which occurred to me in connection with the work of interpretation.

101

disobedient patient by exchanging her for a more sensible,
more docile one. Nor do I leave the contradiction of Dr. M.
unnoticed, but express my opinion of him in an obvious
allusion, to the effect that his relation to the question is that of
an ignoramus (“dysentery will develop,” &c.).

It seems to me, indeed, as though I were appealing from him
to some one better informed (my friend, who has told me about
trimethylamin); just as I have turned from Irma to her
friend, I turn from Otto to Leopold. Rid me of these three
persons, replace them by three others of my own choice, and
I shall be released from the reproaches which I do not wish
to have deserved! The unreasonableness itself of these re-
proaches is proved to me in the dream in the most elaborate
way. Irma’s pains are not charged to me, because she herself
is to blame for them, in that she refuses to accept my solution.
Irma’s pains are none of my business, for they are of an
organic nature, quite impossible to be healed by a psychic
cure. Irma’s sufferings are satisfactorily explained by her
widowhood (trimethylamin !); a fact which, of course, I
cannot alter. Irma’s illness has been caused by an incautious
injection on the part of Otto, with an ill-suited substance—
in a way I should never have made an injection. Irma’s
suffering is the result of an injection made with an unclean
syringe, just like the inflammation of the veins in my old
lady, while I never do any such mischief with my injections.
I am aware, indeed, that these explanations of Irma’s illness,
which unite in acquitting me, do not agree with one another ;
they even exclude one another. The whole pleading—this
dream is nothing else—recalls vividly the defensive argument
of a man who was accused by his neighbour of having returned
a kettle to him in a damaged condition. In the first place,
he said, he had returned the kettle undamaged ; in the second,
it already had holes in it when he borrowed it ; and thirdly, he
had never borrowed the kettle from his neighbour at all. But
so much the better ; if even one of these three methods of
defence is recognised as valid, the man must be acquitted.

Still other subjects mingle in the dream, whose relation
to my release from responsibility for Irma’s illness is not so
transparent : the illness of my daughter and that of a patient
of the same name, the harmfulness of cocaine, the illness of

102

my patient travelling in Egypt, concern about the health of
my wife, my brother, of Dr. M., my own bodily troubles, and
concern about the absent friend who is suffering from sup-
purative rhinitis. But if I keep all these things in view, they
combine into a single train of thought, labelled perhaps :
Concern for the health of myself and others—professional con-
scientiousness. I recall an undefined disagreeable sensation
as Otto brought me the news of Irma’s condition. I should
like to note finally the expression of this fleeting sensation,
which is part of the train of thought that is mingled into the
dream. It is as though Otto had said to me : “You do not
take your physician’s duties seriously enough, you are not
conscientious, do not keep your promises.” Thereupon this
train of thought placed itself at my service in order that I
might exhibit proof of the high degree in which I am con-
scientious, how intimately I am concerned with the health
of my relatives, friends, and patients. Curiously enough, there
are also in this thought material some painful memories, which
correspond rather to the blame attributed to Otto than to
the accusation against me. The material has the appearance
of being impartial, but the connection between this broader
material, upon which the dream depends, and the more limited
theme of the dream which gives rise to the wish to be innocent
of Irma’s illness, is nevertheless unmistakable.

I do not wish to claim that I have revealed the meaning
of the dream entirely, or that the interpretation is flawless.

I could still spend much time upon it ; I could draw further
explanations from it, and bring up new problems which it
bids us consider. I even know the points from which further
thought associations might be traced ; but such considerations
as are connected with every dream of one’s own restrain me
from the work of interpretation. Whoever is ready to con-
demn such reserve, may himself try to be more straightforward
than I. I am content with the discovery which has been just
made. If the method of dream interpretation here indicated
is followed, it will be found that the dream really has meaning,
and is by no means the expression of fragmentary brain
activity, which the authors would have us believe. When the
work of interpretation has been completed the dream may be
recognised as the fulfilment of a wish.