On Dreams1901-001/1914.2.en
  • S.

    I.

    In what we may term “prescientific days”
    people were in no uncertainty about the
    interpretation of dreams. When they were
    recalled after awakening they were regarded
    as either the friendly or hostile manifesta-
    tion of some higher powers, demoniacal and
    Divine. With the rise of scientific thought
    the whole of this expressive mythology was
    transferred to psychology; to-day there is
    but a small minority among educated per-
    sons who doubt that the dream is the
    dreamer’s own psychical act.

    But since the downfall of the mythologi-
    cal hypothesis an interpretation of the
    dream has been wanting. The conditions
    of its origin; its relationship to our psychical
    life when we are awake; its independence of
    disturbances which, during the state of
    sleep, seem to compel notice; its many pecu-
    I

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    2

    liarities repugnant to our waking thought;
    the incongruence between its images and
    the feelings they engender; then the dream’s
    evanescence, the way in which, on awaken-
    ing, our thoughts thrust it aside as some-
    thing bizarre, and our reminiscences muti-
    lating or rejecting it—all these and many
    other problems have for many hundred
    years demanded answers which up till now
    could never have been satisfactory. 1)Before
    all there is the question as to the meaning
    of the dream, a question which is in itself
    double-sided. 2)There is, firstly, the psychi-
    cal significance of the dream, its position
    with regard to the psychical processes, as
    to a possible biological function; secondly,
    has the dream a meaning—can sense be
    made of each single dream as of other
    mental syntheses ?

    Three tendencies can be observed in the
    estimation of dreams. Many philosophers
    have given currency to one of these ten-
    dencies, one which at the same time pre-
    serves something of the dream’s former

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    3

    over-valuation. The foundation of dream
    life is for them a peculiar state of psychical
    activity, which they even celebrate as
    elevation to some higher state. Schubert,
    for instance, claims: “The dream is the
    liberation of the spirit from the pressure of
    external nature, a detachment of the soul
    from the fetters of matter.” Not all go so
    far as this, but many maintain that dreams
    have their origin in real spiritual excita-
    tions, and are the outward manifestations
    of spiritual powers whose free movements
    have been hampered during the day
    (“Dream Phantasies,” Scherner, Volkelt).
    A large number of observers acknowledge
    that dream life is capable of extraordinary
    achievements—at any rate, in certain fields
    (“Memory”).

    In striking contradiction with this the
    majority of medical writers hardly admit
    that the dream is a psychical phenomenon
    at all. According to them dreams are pro-
    voked and initiated exclusively by stimuli
    proceeding from the senses or the body,

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    4

    which either reach the sleeper from without
    or are accidental disturbances of his internal
    organs. The dream has no greater claim
    to meaning and importance than the sound
    called forth by the ten fingers of a person
    quite unacquainted with music running his
    fingers over the keys of an instrument.
    The dream is to be regarded, says Binz,
    “as a physical process always useless, fre-
    quently morbid.” All the peculiarities of
    dream life are explicable as the incoherent
    effort, due to some physiological stimulus,
    of certain organs, or of the cortical elements
    of a brain otherwise asleep.

    But slightly affected by scientific opinion
    and untroubled as to the origin of dreams,
    the popular view holds firmly to the belief
    that dreams really have got a meaning, in
    some way they do foretell the future, whilst
    the meaning can be unravelled in some way
    or other from its oft bizarre and enigmatical
    content. The reading of dreams consists in
    replacing the events of the dream, so far as
    remembered, by other events. This is done

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    5

    either scene by scene, according to some
    rigid key, or the dream as a whole is replaced
    by something else of which it was a symbol.
    Serious-minded persons laugh at these
    efforts—‘‘ Dreams are but sea-foam !’’