Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology

by C. G. Jung

We cannot in every case get so far as this on the simple principle of letting the patient talk; few patients have their psychic material so much on the surface. Furthermore, many persons have a positive resistance against speaking freely about what occurs to them on the spur of the moment; it is often too painful to tell the doctor whom perhaps they do not entirely trust; in other cases because apparently nothing occurs to them, they force themselves to speak of matters about which they are more or less indifferent. This habit of not talking to the point by no means proves that patients consciously conceal their unpleasant contents, for such irrelevant speaking can occur quite unconsciously. In such cases it sometimes helps the patient if he is told that he must not force himself, that he must only seize upon the very first thoughts that present themselves, no matter how unimportant or ridiculous they may seem. In certain cases even these instructions are of no use, and then the doctor is obliged to have recourse to other expedients. One of these is the employment of the association test, which usually gives excellent information as to the chief momentary tendencies of the individual.

A second expedient is dream analysis; this is the real instrument of psychoanalysis. We have already experienced so much opposition to dream analysis that a brief exposition of its principles is necessary. The interpretation of dreams, as well as the meaning given to them, is, as we know, in bad odour. It is not long since that oneirocritics were practised and believed in; nor is the time long past when even the most enlightened human beings were entirely under the ban of superstition. It is therefore comprehensible that our age should still retain a certain lively fear of those superstitions which have but recently been partially overcome. To this timidity in regard to superstition, the opposition to dream analysis is in a large measure due; but analysis is in no wise to blame for this. We do not select the dream as our object because we pay it the homage of superstitious admiration, but because it is a psychic product that is independent of the patient's consciousness. We ask for the patient's free thoughts, but he gives us little, or nothing; or at best something forced or irrelevant. Dreams are free thoughts, free phantasies, they are not forced, and they are psychic phenomena just as much as thoughts are.

It may be said of the dream that it enters into the consciousness as a complex structure, the connection between the elements of which is not conscious. Only by afterwards joining associations to the separate pictures of the dream, can the origin of these pictures, in certain recollections of the near and more remote past, be proved. One asks oneself: "Where have I seen or heard that?" And by the same process of free association comes the memory that one has actually experienced certain parts of the dream, some of them yesterday, some at an earlier date. This is well known, and every one will probably agree to it. Thus far the dream presents itself, as a rule, as an incomprehensible composition of certain elements which are not in the first instance conscious, but which are later recognised by the process of free association. This might be disputed on the ground that it is an a priori statement. I must remark, however, that this conception conforms to the only generally recognised working hypothesis as to the genesis of dreams, namely, the derivation of the dream from experiences and thoughts of the recent past. We are, therefore, upon known ground. Not that certain dream parts have under all circumstances been known to the individual, so that one might ascribe to them the character of being conscious; on the contrary, they are frequently, even generally, unrecognisable. Not until later do we remember having consciously experienced this or that dream part. We may therefore regard the dream from this point of view as a product that comes from a subconscious origin. The technical unfolding of these subconscious sources is a mode of procedure that has always been instinctively employed. One simply tries to remember whence the dream parts come. Upon this most simple principle the psychoanalytic method of solving dreams is based. It is a fact that certain dream parts are derived from our waking life and, indeed, from experiences which, owing to their notorious lack of importance, would frequently have been consigned to certain oblivion, and were therefore well on their way towards becoming definitely subconscious. Such dream parts are the results of subconscious representations (images).

The principles according to which psychoanalysis solves dreams are therefore exceedingly simple, and have really been known for a long time. The further procedure follows the same path logically and consistently. If one spends considerable time over a dream, which really never happens outside psychoanalysis, one can succeed in finding more and more recollections for the separate dream parts. It is, however, not always possible to discover recollections for certain other parts; and then one must leave them for the time being, whether one likes it or not. When I speak of "recollections" I naturally do not mean merely memories of certain concrete experiences, but also of their inter-related meanings. The collected recollections are known as the dream material. With this material one proceeds according to a scientific method that is universally valid. If one has any experimental material to work up, one compares its separate parts and arranges them according to their similarities. Exactly the same course is pursued in dealing with the dream material; one gathers together its common characteristics, whether these be formal or material. In doing this one must absolutely get rid of certain prejudices. I have always observed that the beginner expects to find some tendency or other according to which he endeavours to mould his material. I have noticed this particularly in the cases of colleagues who were previously more or less violent opponents of psychoanalysis, owing to their well-known prejudices and misunderstandings. When fate willed that I should analyse them, and they consequently gained at last an insight into the method of analysis, it was demonstrated that the first mistake which they had been apt to make in their own psychoanalytic practice was that they forced the material into accord with their own preconceived opinions; that is, they allowed their former attitude towards psychoanalysis, which they were not able to appreciate objectively, but only according to subjective phantasies, to have its influence upon their material. If one goes so far as to venture upon the task of examining the dream material, one must permit no comparison to frighten one away. The material consists, as a general rule, of very unequal images, from which it is under some circumstances most difficult to obtain the "tertium comparationis." I must forego giving you detailed examples of this, since it is quite impossible to introduce such extensive material into a lecture.

One pursues, then, the same method in classifying the unconscious content, as is used everywhere in comparing materials for the purpose of drawing conclusions from them. One objection has often been made, namely: why should the dream have a subconscious content at all? This objection is unscientific in my opinion. Every psychological moment has its own history. Every sentence that I utter has, besides the meaning consciously intended by me, a meaning that is historical; and this last may be entirely different from the conscious meaning. I am purposely expressing myself somewhat paradoxically. I certainly should not take it upon myself to explain each sentence according to its individual-historical meaning. That is easier in the case of larger and more complex formations. Every one is certainly convinced of the fact that a poem—in addition to its manifest contents—is also particularly characteristic of its author, in its form, subject-matter, and the history of its origin. Whereas the poet gave skilful expression to a fleeting mood in his song, the historian of literature sees in it and beyond it, things which the poet would never have suspected. The analysis which the literary critic makes of the subject-matter furnished by the poet may be compared with psychoanalysis in its method, even to the very errors which occur therein. The psychoanalytic method may be aptly compared with historical analysis and synthesis. Let us assume, for instance, that we do not understand the meaning of the rite of baptism as it is practised in our churches to-day. The priest tells us that baptism means the reception of the child into the Christian community. But we are not satisfied with this. Why should the child be sprinkled with water, etc.? In order that we may understand this rite we must gather together materials for comparison from the history of the rite, that is, from the memories of mankind appertaining to it; and this must be done from various points of view.

Firstly—Baptism is clearly a rite of initiation, a consecration. Therefore those memories, above all, must be assembled which preserve the rites of initiation.

Secondly—The act of baptism is performed with water. This especial form of procedure proves the necessity of welding together another chain of memories concerning rites in which water was used.

Thirdly—The child is sprinkled with water when it is christened. In this case we must gather together all the forms of the rite, where the neophyte is sprinkled or where the child is submerged, etc.

Fourthly—We must recollect all the reminiscences in mythology and all the superstitious customs which are in any respect similar to the symbolic act of baptism.

In this manner we obtain a comparative study of the act of baptism. Thus we ascertain the elements from which baptism is derived; we further ascertain its original meaning, and at the same time make the acquaintance of a world rich in religious mythology, which makes clear to us all the multifarious and derived meanings of the act of baptism. Thus the analyst deals with the dream. He gathers together historical parallels for each dream part, even though they be very remote and attempts to construct the psychological history of the dream and the meanings that underlie it. By this monographic elaboration of the dream one gains, exactly as in the analysis of the act of baptism, a deep insight into the wonderfully subtle and significant network of subconscious determinations; an insight which, as I have said, can only be compared with the historical understanding of an act that we used only to consider from a very one-sided and superficial point of view.