INTRODUCTION

Psycho-analysis has a two-fold value which places it in the front ranks of the modern constructive sciences. First, it offers untold possibilities, which are only beginning to be realized, as a therapeutic or curative agency for many baffling diseases. The ailments to which it affords cure or relief are not only of the mind, for it has been found that a great number of physical disorders, which heretofore have been considered purely of an organic or functional character, are merely physical reflexes of a neurosis. Relieve the mind of these all-pervading neurotic troubles, and serious physical disturbances are frequently removed.

The mental disorders alone that respond to proper psycho-analytic treatment range all the way from trifling hysterical cases (which, however, tend to become more severe as the individual weakens under the increasing influence of the neurosis) to “dementia praecox,” a severe form of insanity, which the old school psychiatrists have considered hopeless.

Of course, insanity that is due to disintegration of the brain structure, as sometimes happens in the tertiary (third) stage of syphilis, etc., is incurable. Only the charlatan makes all-embracing claims. And psycho-analysis is not magic or alchemy, but a rational science based on very definite natural laws.

The second, and in a way the greater, function of psycho-analysis is as a cultural study for the self-improvement and development of the individual. I emphasize its possible greater usefulness in this respect because, after all, only a very small percentage of the population is insane, and while the victims of neurotic disturbances make up a more important element of society, numerically, than is generally imagined, there is still the great mass of people who may be classed as “normal.”

Psycho-analysis has revolutionized our former conception of human behavior. It has re-interpreted, and thrown a vastly different light on the passions, loves, hates, fears and other primitive emotions of man.

It has revealed in a startling way many of the heretofore inexplicable motives and actions of individuals. The deeper, underlying significance of seemingly inconsequential actions is often disclosed to the analytic observer at its true value—so far removed from surface indications.

To the student of human problems, whether social, economic, industrial, psychical, physical, educational, or what not, psycho-analysis is of incalculable worth. It leads the way to fundamental causes that hitherto have shielded themselves behind an impenetrable screen, and whose existence we have only guessed at in the misleading light of superficial appearances.

There is scarcely any field of human endeavor to which this science cannot be made an invaluable aid. It is the key to an unexplored region whose portals we have just entered. It is the new Lamp of Aladdin, whose light will guide us on the way to a better understanding and re-evaluation of human possibilities.

In the following pages, I shall endeavor to give the psycho-analytic interpretation of some of the most common and interesting revelations that the science offers.

People realize in an indefinite way that they “take to” certain individuals—that they tend to love or esteem persons of a certain type, and to dislike and sometimes even hate another type, without themselves knowing the reason why.

Most of us are cognizant of the fact that there are unfortunate people, homosexuals or perverts, that society has very ignorantly gone out of its way to persecute and penalize because it has not understood the cause of their affliction. Their failure to experience sexual desire in the normal, prescribed manner has been considered a deliberately cultivated or inherently vicious trait, instead of a pathological condition. When the cause of an abnormality remains unknown, there is invariably an irrational reaction to it.

There was a time when insanity was considered a state of being “possessed by devils,” and the victim was flogged and otherwise punished for his indiscretion in harboring the damned. Conventional society has modified its views, and now takes it for granted that there are two kinds of people in the world—the sane and insane—that the latter class is hopeless and must be confined to the asylums until released by death. Psycho-analysis shatters this romantic theory.

It has been an enigma to the student of human behavior why the great masses of people remain so long in self-satisfied contentment often under the most oppressive conditions. It has likewise been a puzzle why a certain few individuals—almost an infinitesimal minority—have always resisted authority and oppression, regardless of personal sacrifices. The pioneers in the radical and feminist movements, etc., illustrate this type. The martyrs of history who have died for various causes and ideals are the best known examples of this phenomenon.

Dreams have been the subject of controversy, speculation and unlimited commentary throughout the ages. The real meaning and profound importance of dreams were never realized until Freud’s discoveries demonstrated their vast significance, and intimate relation to our life, awake as well as asleep.

Our forgetfulness, or absent-mindedness, particularly when it involves a subject or details with which we are quite familiar, is very embarrassing at times. Yet, that there is an unconscious “motive” in forgetting these things that we know so well, or that causes us to suffer from slips of the tongue, and to read words that are not there in sentences, is now established.

Everybody enjoys wit and gets satisfaction out of a joke, particularly when it is on the other fellow. The significance of this psychic manifestation is deeper and more involved than our matter-of-fact acceptance of it has permitted us to comprehend.

The atrocities of war, committed by people who are believed to have been uplifted by the influence of twenty centuries of Christianity, and many more centuries of cultural civilization, are astounding to the casual observer. The ease with which a group of people, individually peaceful and law-abiding, is transformed into a destructive, even murderous mob, is seemingly incomprehensible. Still, there are very plausible reasons for these phenomena, which an understanding of the new psychology enables us to perceive.

And by understanding all of these and other important factors, which a knowledge of psycho-analysis offers, we are better able to check and overcome our individual and social shortcomings, and to re-direct our course along constructive lines.

I. THE THEORY OF PSYCHO-ANALYSIS Before taking up the various questions about which psycho-analysis offers so much food for thought, acting as a stepping-stone to goals formerly unattainable, it is desirable briefly to outline the theory of our subject. This will enable the elementary student better to understand the new and sometimes unique terminology that has been evolved with the progress of the science, and to follow more closely the logical course of the analytic procedure. While this treatise will not be based solely on the orthodox Freudian viewpoint—which would weaken rather than strengthen it—it is necessary to emphasize the original contributions of Freud. For without the findings of this great pathfinder, the science of psycho-analysis might have lain dormant in the background of a slowly evolving psychology for another century or more. However, the theories of Jung, Adler and other analytic pioneers will be duly considered, and the vital contributions of all correlated and reduced to a workable, harmonious whole. It was along about 1890 that Prof. Sigmund Freud of Vienna, a pupil of Breuer and Charcot, made public his theories, developed from psychic discoveries in the realm of the neuroses. The Unconscious.—The seat of operations of psycho-analysis is the unconscious mind. This is the field upon which it works, and the more we know of the unconscious mind the more we are awed by its vastness. To the uninitiated, this may seem paradoxical, basing a highly intricate science on the unconscious mind—which possibly suggests a condition of mental passiveness, inaction or an unknowing quantity. But the Unconscious is the unknown rather than the unknowing. In reality, there is no such thing as an unknowing part of the mind, because the mind is essentially that part of the personality that is knowing. In contradistinction to this fact, the definition of mind generally accepted before the time of analytic psychology had made mind co-extensive with consciousness. But the psycho-analysts have demonstrated not only that thinking takes place, but that it goes on all the time, whether we are awake or asleep. The importance and vastness of the Unconscious as a psychic content may be realized when we use the simile of Dr. G. Stanley Hall, who compares the mind to an iceberg floating with one-eighth visible above the water and seven-eighths below—the one-eighth above representing the Conscious and the seven-eighths below the Unconscious. The influence and controlling power of the unconscious desires over our thoughts and actions are in this relative proportion. Thus, the saying, “he does not know his own mind,” is literally true of all of us. In the past, people who suffered from disturbances of this unknown psychic region—and they are among the most common of all human ailments—were without prospect of relief, unless some happy and haphazard circumstance should intervene and unwittingly favor them. Because of the unfathomed depths from which these disorders emanated, they were beyond the range of our understanding, and consequently not subject to effective treatment. These psychic disturbances, which are capable of indelibly affecting and warping the personality, and causing wounds and conflicts that are painful to the mind and torturous to the soul, also react in definite physical ailments and symptoms of the most varied character. Psycho-analysis brings to the sufferer from psychic hurts and soul wounds his first opportunity for scientific diagnosis and curative treatment, and renders to him a similar service that surgery does to the physical body. That it should always be successful is no more to be expected than the invariable success of surgery; in fact, less so, as the analytic treatment requires much more of the individual. The relation of the unconscious mind to the conscious mind is that the former is the psychic reservoir which receives all the accumulations of experiences and impressions of the personality that pass through, often without notice, the conscious mind. The Unconscious is that region of the mind where are deposited, and have been since birth, every sight, or sound that we have perceived, and every feeling that we have had; in fact, everything that has happened to us, however trivial. The first five years of our lives, for instance, are the most fertile in receiving impressions and gaining new experiences. It is by far the most impressionable period of life. The new and wonderful things that we have constantly observed and the sensations, joys and primitive hates felt, are beyond calculation. And yet, in the lapse of time, we forget practically all but a few outstanding incidents that we had experienced during that period. They are lost to the conscious mind—but not to the Unconscious. As Dr. E. Hitschmann (Freud’s Theory of the Neuroses) has expressed it: And still we know that our memory can be fully reviewed and reproduced at no time of life; on the other hand, psycho-analysis has shown that the very impressions which we have forgotten leave behind the deepest traces in our mental life and have become determining for our whole later development. The unconscious mental processes are divided into two classes, those that are “forgotten” on account of their lack of interest, and those that are “repressed” on account of their painful, or even shocking nature. The psychic processes of the first group contain all as yet unsettled thoughts, or those not yet brought to a conclusion, and while really “unconscious,” they may often readily be brought into the conscious mind. Those of the second class, however, are in the highest degree unconscious, or, as it has been stated, they are “unavailable for consciousness.” This characteristic led Freud to divide the Unconscious into the “Fore-conscious” and the “Absolutely Unconscious.” The term “unavailable for consciousness,” however, is only a relative one, as it is the function of psycho-analysis to bring to consciousness the processes that are normally unavailable for consciousness. Some of the natural freaks of the Fore-conscious are readily observed in our own mental operations. How often we “forget” proper names, dates and general facts that are quite familiar to us! In the Freudian sense, they simply slip into the upper stratum of the Unconscious, to be released again when some association of ideas in that region brings them to the conscious mind, or as we have so often noticed in our own experiences, when they return to memory spontaneously as it appears. The Complexes.—The storm centers around which so many psychic disturbances fasten themselves, with frequent serious physical reactions in the form of chronic disorders and pathological symptoms, are the complexes. A complex is an outstanding idea that dominates in the realm of the Unconscious, and around which is grouped a phalanx of primitive, repressed emotions. It may consist of painful memories that have been banished into the Unconscious. Such complexes invariably assert themselves in dreams, and form the underlying mechanism of a neurosis. Some of these, like hysteria and obsessions (“Psycho-neurosis”) are traced back by Freud to erotic experiences in childhood, hence to the influence of unconscious or repressed idea-complexes. Neurasthenia and anxiety-neuroses (“true neuroses”) are referred to the present abnormal condition of the sexual functions of the individual. Hysteria is more psychic, and neurasthenia is more toxic—but both have a sexual basis. The most devasting of the complexes is the Oedipus-complex. This has its origin in earliest childhood and consists of an over-attachment of the son to the mother, which in its true form is accompanied by a feeling of jealousy toward the father, whose claim upon the mother’s affections is resented by the young would-be rival. These tendencies are often noticed by parents, to whom this display of infantile jealousy is amusing. Of course, they are unaware of the possibilities of future consequences of a dire nature that are bound up in the situation if it is not normally outgrown with the approach of puberty, rather than repressed. Considering our modern customs which sanction much coddling of the child by its mother, there is a trace of the Oedipus-complex in all children, but in normal cases, as they develop into adolescence, there is a breaking away from these childhood attachments. Other children, however, never put aside these childish or infantile feelings and attachments, but carry them throughout life repressed in the Unconscious. These persons become neurotic, as the repressed complex furnishes an underlying basis for psycho-neuroses and many abnormal sexual inversions. It is always the Oedipus-complex, or a characteristic trace of it, which in adult life gives rise to dreams of death of one of the parents usually the opposite parent to that of the infantile attachment. Freud calls this archaic desire in the soul of the male child the Oedipus-complex in recognition of its analogy to the tragedy of King Oedipus of Sophocles, who was led by his fate to kill his father, Laius, and win his mother, Jocasta, for a wife. The importance of the Oedipus-complex warrants a brief review of the early Greek myth, from which Freud has taken the name as a symbolic term. Laius, son of Labdacus, King of Thebes, was warned by Apollo’s oracle at Delphi that he would die at the hands of his son. When the child, Oedipus, was born, the father, to protect himself against the prophetic fate, fastened the ankles of the infant and gave him to a faithful herdsman to be exposed on Mount Cithaeron. The herdsman, ignorant of the oracle, took pity on the child and gave him to a shepherd of Polybus, King of Corinth, and that ruler, who was childless, brought him up as his own son. Oedipus never doubted his Corinthian nativity until the taunt of a drunken companion aroused his suspicions, and he fled from the man and woman he had looked to as his actual father and mother. In a narrow highway he met an old man, Laius, disputed his right of way, and killed him. Continuing his journey he reached Thebes, which was harassed by the Sphinx. Oedipus answered the riddle of the Sphinx and thus slew the monster. Thebes rewarded him by offering him the hand of the widowed queen, Jocasta, his mother, whom he married, not knowing the relationship. Later a terrible pestilence visited the city, and the oracle which was consulted declared that the murderer of Laius must be expelled to bring relief. Oedipus, beginning the search in good faith, discovered the truth, and put out his eyes. Jocasta, the mother wife, hanged herself. The over-attachment of the daughter to the father, which involves a more or less latent jealousy toward the mother, is termed the Electra-complex, from the myth of Electra of Euripides, who took revenge on her mother for the murder of the husband because she was in this way deprived of her father. It will be noted that the Electra complex is for women quite analogous to the Oedipus complex in men—so much so in fact that the latter term is often used interchangeably for both situations, it being understood that the sex of the parent is the opposite to that of the child. In the theory of psycho-analysis, the dream is the true language and most natural medium of expression of the Unconscious, although it should be emphasized that it is not the only means of expression. It is also the chief means by which the Unconscious may be penetrated. Freud calls it the royal road to the unconscious. Among other characteristic manifestations of the Unconscious are phantasying—or day-dreaming, as it is commonly called; absent-mindedness, which causes us to forget names, dates and facts with which we are really thoroughly conversant; mistakes in speech and writing, and reading words that are not there into sentences. Wit and laughter are also manifestations of the unconscious mind, and are recognized by Freud as the medium through which the Unconscious obtains the greatest amount of pleasure within the shortest space of time. The psychological structure of a joke, in fact, greatly resembles the psychological structure of a dream. As our civilization is based upon the suppression of instincts—which is, or should be, compensated for by the advantages of cultural and intellectual development—we find countless numbers of people who have been unable to successfully transform their accumulations of bound-up energy from self-centered to social ends. The Libido.—The energy or prime mover of human action which Freud calls the Libido, is termed by Henri Bergson the élan vital, and by Dr. Carl Jung, the horme. Other names have been proposed, one of the best English equivalents, suggested by Putnam, being the Craving. It is the Craving for Life, for Love, for Action. When the libido (to adhere to the terminology of Freud) is not adequately transformed into channels that are serviceable to society or sublimated, as this process of socialization is called, the result is a derangement of the nervous system and the psychic structure—a neurosis in one of its several forms of variations. The anxiety-neurosis may be the result of sexual repression, or of some sudden confronting with the facts of sex (a strong argument for some general common-sense instruction of what the continuance of life implies), or of impotent husbands, frigid wives, or of diminishing potency associated with increasing lust, and so on. The libido, or life force, must have an outlet, or play havoc with the psychic structure, and as the rules of modern society necessarily forbid as an outlet the natural, crude expressions of sensuousness which served the purpose of primitive peoples in so many of their activities, the energy turns within, so to speak, and works on the ego. As Dr. Hitschmann remarks, a dammed-up libido hunts out a weak place and breaks through, expressing itself in neurotic “substitute gratification.” Primitive man, like the child, is much interested in the sensations he produces with his own body; he is auto-erotic. He squanders enormous amounts of vitality in specific sensuality, wasted energy that results in no benefit to the group. One of the essential objects of civilization is to convert this dissipated personal power from the sensual to activities that are useful to the herd. But by turning wasted energy from the sensual to social uses, we do not mean to imply that the sex-life of normal adulthood should or can be ignored. This, as we shall see, frequently leads to unfortunate, or even disastrous consequences. As Freud says, “the struggle against sensuality consumes all of a young man’s available energy at the precise moment when he needs it to win for himself a place in the social organization.” And, again, in alluding to the irrational, ascetic tendency of over-sublimation, he warns: Experience teaches us that there is for the majority of men, a limit beyond which their constitution cannot comply any more with the “cultural” demands. Those who are trying to be better than their constitution permits them to be succumb to a neurosis; they would have been better off if it had been possible for them to be worse. Sexuality.—Interpreted in the strictly Freudian sense, nearly all of our instincts, emotions and actions are motivated primarily by an unconscious sexual urge. It should be emphasized that Freud used the word “sexual” in a very broad sense; much broader than the conventionally educated are capable of comprehending until after diligent and painstaking study of psycho-analytic literature, they finally perceive the meaning of this term at its true value. In a word, sexuality is not the equivalent of sensuality, but denotes the fundamental instinct which is the very root of the emotional life, called the libido. It thus refers to the yearning for love, for marriage, for children, for the affection of a parent, etc.—all of a most commendable type, which have as their unconscious biological aim the perpetuation of the race. The child’s sexuality is at first auto-erotic (a term which the analysts have taken from Havelock Ellis), or turned on itself; then it transfers or fixes itself to those nearest him, usually the mother or some member of the family, or the nurse; and finally, in the normal course of development, as adult life is approached, it transfers it to a person outside the family group—constituting what is termed falling in love. Freud emphasizes the point that the infant enjoys in the taking of nourishment a sexual pleasure which it frequently seeks to obtain throughout childhood by sucking, with rhythmic movements, independent of the taking of food. This sometimes grows to a fixed childish fault that continues even up into later years. Often there is associated with the “pleasure-sucking,” a rubbing of certain sensitive parts of the body, the breast, the external genitals, etc. In this way many children proceed automatically from sucking to masturbation. Jung, in The Psychology of the Unconscious, remarks: Sucking still belongs to the function of nutrition, but passes beyond it, however, in that it is no longer the function of nutrition, but rhythmic activity, with pleasure and satisfaction as a goal, without the taking of nourishment.... In the period of the displaced rhythmic activity, the hands appear still more clearly as an auxiliary organ; the gaining of pleasure leaves the mouth zone and turns to the other regions.... As a rule, other openings of the body become objects of the libido interest; then the skin and special portions of that. The activity expressed in these parts, which can appear as rubbing, boring, picking, and so on, follows a certain rhythm and serves to produce pleasure. After longer or shorter tarryings of the libido at these stations, it passes onward until it reaches the sexual (genital) zone, and there, for the first time, can be occasion for the beginning of onanistic attempts. The theory of sucking as a sexual pleasure is strengthened by the fact that the mouth and lips are known as erogenous (love creating) zones, a significance they retain through normal life in the kiss. It is also a natural tendency of the infant, as well as the young child, to take a keen satisfaction in the sight of its nude body, and in feeling and playing with many or almost all of the surface parts. This manifestation is perfectly understandable when it is taken into consideration that the erogenous zones are very diversified in childhood; including, besides the more sensitive places, practically the whole surface of the body. As the child approaches puberty, the erogenous zones normally tend to concentrate to the regions of the reproductive organs. The inclination of the child to glory in its nakedness (termed Narcissism) is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is the existence of an unconscious sexual motive a matter to be horrified over. The child should not be scolded for this propensity, as such treatment leaves an indelible impression on the infant mind, and tends to set up repressions in the unconscious that may lead to future mental conflicts. Undue erotic concentration may be prevented by directing the mind of the child to various constructive activities suitable to its age and development. This is the beginning of the process of sublimation. In regard to sexuality in childhood, Wilfrid Lay (Man’s Unconscious Conflict), states: The repugnance against seeing anything of the quality or intensity of adult sexual feeling attributed to children under five years of age is so strong in most people that they have accused the Freudians of reading sex into everything. The reply to this accusation is that it is true that all excitement is primarily sexual, but the word sexual is to be understood in a very broad sense, and that, viewed from the purely scientific standpoint, and freed from all ideas of prurience or prudery, there is no reproach in regarding what is admitted as the prime mover in human life and activity as an essential characteristic of all ages of human life, even of infancy. When looking at it in a rational light, free from prudish notions, there is nothing about this predominant sexual urge to feel ashamed of or to apologize for. It has as its basis the one great object of race preservation, which, biologically speaking, is ALL IMPORTANT. But as we have evolved beyond the need of using practically all our instincts and activities toward the reproductive end, it follows that while the immediate and concrete urge of sex life must normally find expression and gratification, the numerous secondary impulses that now have only a vestigial sexual significance, should express themselves in some other than sensuous ways. These are the qualities of the libido that can be sublimated, and diverted from erotic to socially useful fields of activity. It should not be assumed that because these natural instincts have no longer a specific sexual function to perform that they are not even now sensually employed. Indeed, unless weaned into constructive channels by the process of sublimation, their constant tendency is to seek erotic satisfaction. Proof of this can be found on every hand, not only in the records of serious crimes and petty misdemeanors, but in all sorts of human impulses that are so common in every-day life, and have such varied ways of manifesting themselves, that their very universality causes us to take them for granted as a matter of course, without reflecting on their real significance. A very apt elucidation of this principle is given by Dr. William A. White (Principles of Mental Hygiene): The way in which this bound-up energy is freed is by the process known as sublimation. Of course, the possible illustrations are almost infinite, for they include every activity of man. For example, according to this theory, the curiosity which makes a man a scientist—let us say microscopist—is traceable to that early curiosity in looking—peeping, which has its object in seeing forbidden sexual objects or acts. The immediate sexual element in the curiosity is sublimated into a socially useful purpose to which the original pleasure is still attached, and for which it furnishes the drive. We know, too, the “Peeping Toms,” who still show this same form of pleasure-seeking, but have been unable to advance their way of obtaining pleasure to a socially accepted means. Despite the formidable obstacles that stand in the way of a more normal sex life for the great masses of people, Freud sounds the hopeful note of all those who have worked toward an increased control of life, maintaining that degeneration and nervousness are not in any way inevitable results of cultural progress, but excrescences that are to be avoided.

II. DREAMS—THEIR PROFOUND SIGNIFICANCE Interest in dreams has been manifested in all ages and by all races of people. Dreams have profoundly influenced the lives of individuals and the destinies of nations. There have been numerous books written on the subject and countless theories, ideas and superstitions formulated with reference to dream phenomena. But notwithstanding this vast field that has been so long open for exploration, study and research, it is only within comparatively recent years—beginning with the epochal disclosures of Freud—that any real substantial progress has been made in getting at a true understanding of the nature of dreams and their processes. The reason for this is the same as may be given for the slow progress in all friends of scientific research. While dreams in the past have been generally associated with the fantastic, the unreal, the supernormal, when, indeed, not the supernatural, they are now nevertheless connected with a definite science, and consequently great strides have been made in recent years in understanding them. The dream is always the fulfillment of a wish or craving of the Unconscious. On the surface, this may seem like a rash statement, if not an utter impossibility, as we have all experienced dreams that were the very antithesis of our conscious desires and repugnant to our feelings. But this involves a dual consideration; first, that the dream represents a wish fulfillment of the Unconscious—the crude, primitive, chaotic element of our personality, and is most frequently influenced by long-forgotten infantile impressions and repressions; secondly, that it is always highly symbolic, and does not express itself in the language of the conscious mind. To these essential points may be added the fact that the dream is seldom remembered as it was actually dreamed. The version that is remembered is termed the manifest content, and the wish concealed in the underlying thoughts which produced the dream is known as the latent content. The concealing of this latent content, as well as the lapse of memory which accompanies it, is the result of a psychic resistance or an attempt of the “endo-psychic” censor to prevent the true motive from revealing itself. Hence we have the symbolic dreams, which actually have to be translated to enable us to arrive at their real meaning. This is the function of psycho-analysis. The basic foundation of dreams lies in the wishes of childhood which being unattainable were stored away in the Unconscious. The long-forgotten wishes have normally disappeared into the unconscious mind because of psycho-sexual development and social inhibitions. The manifest content of the dream is produced by four chief processes which are called condensation, displacement, dramatization and secondary elaboration. Briefly, these four terms may be described as follows: Condensation, as the name implies, is the constant tendency of the dream, as remembered, to be a very condensed version of the subject-matter that arose from the depths of our unconscious mind. This also includes the fusing together of dream-thoughts often resulting in a fantastic, ludicrous effect. Displacement, like condensation, acts as a potent distorting mechanism. It signifies the process by which psychic importance is transferred to a given element in the manifest content from quite different unrelated elements in the latent content. This causes us to place undue stress on comparatively unimportant details in the dream, and to overlook as trivial other things that are really of basic importance in the latent content of the dream. Dramatization, refers to the symbolic properties of dream phenomena. All dreams are more or less symbolized—most of them highly so. The primary visual nature of dreams readily lends itself to this characteristic which has been called “regard for presentability.” Secondary elaboration is that situation in which our consciousness contributes to this extent: When experiencing an unpleasant dream, the thought sometimes occurs to us, “This is only a dream; why worry?” Nevertheless, despite this prompting of our Conscious, we still continue dreaming—harassed on one side by the unpleasant factor of the dream, and reassured on the other that it is not real. The savage in the child, the archaic in man, still survives in us, but is confined to that part called the Unconscious. It has not been replaced or supplanted, but in most persons has been more or less slightly veneered by the processes of civilization. One of the characteristics of dreams is their apparent absurdity or triviality. However, psycho-analysis has proven that there are no absurd or trivial dreams. Every dream reflects a definite desire, wish, or fear on the part of the person’s unconscious mind, which has an untold influence over his thoughts and actions, notwithstanding his conscious ideals when expressed in language. Coriat (What Is Psycho-Analysis?) sums up the significance of dreams and other manifestations of the Unconscious, and their value as interpreting agencies, when he says: Psycho-analysis presupposes that there is no mental effect without its cause and consequently nervous symptoms are not chance and haphazard products, but are related to definite mental processes which are repressed in the patient’s Unconscious. This relation of mental cause and effect is called determinism. By means of the study of dreams and symptomatic actions and sometimes by use of association tests, psycho-analysis traces out each symptom in the patient’s life history. Sometimes these symptoms are found to be deeply buried in the earliest years of childhood. Without going extensively into the ramifications of dream phenomena, it might be well to refer to certain typical dreams, which are the common lot of practically every individual. These are also notable because they usually have their origin in infantile impressions or sexual motives, although the dream may be so thoroughly couched in symbolic expressions that no actual sexual idea is apparent. There is the dream of injury to, or death of, a parent or relative near and dear to us. To suggest that we wish them harm is unthinkable. This common type of dream has its basis in a temporary childish anger, directed against the person in question, and which was accompanied by the ill-wish that for ethical reasons was repressed. It should be added that a child has a different conception of death than an adult has. To the former it merely denotes an interruption of the disturbing presence of a person, or of his being out of the way for the time being. A dream of this kind invariably has its root, if not in a true nuclear complex, then in an Oedipus tendency which survives in the Unconscious. Some trace of this can be found in every individual, and in it Freud sees a definite incest wish toward the mother which lacks only the attribute of consciousness. Moral reactions subject this wish to repression through the functioning of the “incest barrier,” a hypothesis that is compared to the “incest taboo” found among primitive and inferior peoples. One of the most common dreams is the so-called embarrassment dream of nakedness. Freud has been led to consider this nakedness dream as an exhibitionist quality revived in the Unconscious, and traces it back to the universal tendency of children to disrobe, which affords them great enjoyment and pleasure. There is another type of dream that is not uncommon, and in a pronounced form is called the anxiety dream or nightmare. Perhaps the characteristics peculiar to this can best be described by Dr. Hitschmann (Freud’s Theory of the Neuroses): The dream picture accompanied by anxiety represents the patient (usually female) oppressed by a great and dangerous beast which threatens to throw itself on the dreamer; characteristically, it is often a stallion or bull, thus, animals which have ever stood as symbols of the potent strength of animal masculinity. It is easy to see in these animal figures the symbolized givers of sexual gratification forbidden by conscious thinking. A still plainer symbol aiming at this end appears in dreams of burglars who, armed with revolvers, daggers or similar instruments, press on upon the dreaming lady. The starting up from sleep because of such anxiety-dreams, one finds frequently in widows and ungratified women as a characteristic kind of disturbance of sleep. It has been remarked that the field of sexual symbolism is an astonishingly rich and varied one, and that a great number are definitely recognized as belonging to this category. Dr. Ernest Jones, the Canadian analyst, maintains that “there are probably more symbols of the male genital organ than all other symbols put together.” Thus the dreamer who dreams of a snake, a dagger, a fish, or a bird, in no way consciously regards these objects as a phallic symbol, and is usually most unwilling, until the logic of the dream analysis forces him, to accept this conclusion. The symbolic expression of dream language bears remarkable likeness to the symbolism of ancient mythology. This signifies to the student of psycho-analysis that the Unconscious not only gets many of its deepest impressions from early infancy, but that it has also inherited race impressions that have been passed down through countless generations, and that cause us to live over again in our dreams the ineffaceable experiences of prehistoric ancestors. One of the most typical of this class is the falling dream, an heritage of the ape-man who lived in the trees. It is notable in these falling dreams that we always catch ourselves, land safely or wake up in the excitement which indicates that our progenitor who originally experienced the shock that caused this indelible mental impression that has become a biological fixture, also caught himself or fell to comparative safety, else the impression could not have been carried down. The Unconscious dwells in a realm of phantasy, shuns the reality, constructs its indomitable and superhuman heroes (Gods), and deals summarily and mercilessly with its enemies. All the themes of mythology and folk-lore have these common characteristics. Authorities have attributed the origin of myths and fables to dream conceptions and other manifestations of the Unconscious among primitive peoples. Thus, Dr. Karl Abraham (Dreams and Myths) says: “The myth is a fragment of the infantile soul life of the people, and the dream is the myth of the individual.” Freud has stated this conclusion from his vast experience in dream interpretations: The investigation of this folk-psychologic formation, myths, etc., is by no means finished at present. To take an example of this, however, it is probable that the myths correspond to the distorted residue of wish phantasies of whole nations, the secularized dreams of young humanity. Even earlier philosophers have sensed this great truth, as we observe from Nietzsche (Human All Too Human): In our sleep and in our dreams we pass through the whole thought of early humanity. I mean, in the same way that man reasons in his dreams, he reasoned when in the waking state many thousands of years. The first causa which occurred to his mind in reference to anything that needed explanation, satisfied him, and passed for truth. In the dream this atavistic relic of humanity manifests its existence within us, for it is the foundation upon which the higher rational faculty developed, and which is still developing in every individual. The dream carries us back into earlier states of human culture, and affords us a means of understanding them better.... The symbol as an expression of our unconscious desires is not by any means confined to dreams. We do many things in our waking hours of a symbolical nature, which satisfy our Unconscious without consciously understanding their real significance. For instance, we throw rice and old shoes at newlyweds without comprehending the true meaning of the act. Consciously, we are following an old established custom; but unconsciously we are doing something more important. We are giving expression in a symbolical way to a wish that is quite appropriate for the occasion, and which our standard of ethics would not permit us to express in a more direct way. During all ages and in folklore of all races, shoes have been a symbol of the female genitals, and rice (or wheat or other common cereal) the symbol of the male fructifying seed. Hence, we unconsciously indicate the sexual character of the new relationship with the normal outcome of fruitfulness or prolificacy, which the conventions of modern civilization would not permit us to openly allude to in a direct manner. Everyone Dreams.—Many people taking exception to the Freudian contention regarding dreams, assert that they rarely, if ever, dream. There are very good scientific grounds for believing, not only that everyone does dream, but that we dream continuously during our period of sleep. However, in the process of waking up in the normal manner, as we slowly gain consciousness, the “censor” that figuratively stands at the gate of our Unconscious subtly draws the veil over what has been transpiring and we open our eyes with a feeling that our mind during the night has been free from all thought or effort. Our conscious mind, of course, has; our unconscious mind has not. It has been proven by experimenting with persons who claimed they “never dreamed,” that they do dream, and with a little practice they can soon learn to remember their dreams. One of the best ways of testing the accuracy of the “dreamless” sleeper is to wake him up suddenly in the middle of the night or at a time he is unaccustomed to be awakened. Invariably, it will be found, if immediately questioned, that he has either a more or less distinct recollection of dreaming. This is true if the sudden waking-up process occurs once in the night—or twenty times. If a multiple of times, then it may be found that the sleeper has experienced a different dream each time before awakening. This gives strength to the theory that we are constantly dreaming of something; the themes of the dream often rapidly changing from one thing to another, sometimes blending into each other in an incoherent mass—or constantly changing picture without apparent sense or reason. The fact, too, that dreams are highly symbolized, as before stated, further emphasizes this impression. When analyzed, it is usually found that the most important features or characters in the dream, as remembered, are of little relative importance. On the other hand, some minor detail or insignificant factor proves upon investigation to be of prime importance. Another deceiving feature of dream phenomena, which makes us believe that we do not dream, is that immediately upon waking we are slightly conscious of some disturbing feeling or annoying mental trend, but with a slight effort pass it off. Instead of attributing it to a dream, we offer ourselves the excuse that it was a noise we may have heard outside the room or that we had just dismissed from mind an unpleasant episode of the day before—just what, we cannot (or do not care to) recall. By this half conscious, semi-deliberate action, we bow to the will of the censor and “forget” the dream. The very fact of the universal “forgetting” of dreams confirms the existence of an agency which, for the want of a better term, is called the censor. If we had exercised sufficient determination or will power to pick up the thread as it passed the outskirts of our consciousness, we could have resurrected perhaps a little of what had preceded. And by practice, it would gradually become possible to get more or less of a logical mental picture of what had been transpiring in our Unconscious. It is important to remember that the first waking impression of a dream is the only reliable or trustworthy recollection we are able to get of it. If a person, immediately upon waking, jots down the import of the dream as he remembers it, and then later in the day recurs to the dream of the night before, he will find not only that he has forgotten a good part of it, but quite likely that he will even give a different version of it. This is another evidence of the efficiency of the censor in covering up the evidence of unconscious psychic activity. The victims of anxiety-dreams (nightmares), however, experience no doubt about their having dreams. In fact, until the cause of the neurosis is removed, they suffer much from disturbances that result from this manifestation of the Unconscious. The paradoxical feature of these dreams is that they are a form of gratification—offering a substitute means of gratification of the Unconscious for the lack or denial of a normal form of obtaining pleasure or satisfaction. In this connection, it may be said that relief is frequently obtained from these anxiety-dreams or nightmares if the subject is made aware of their true import. By understanding their symbolical meaning, the shock is removed, even if the dreams continue in a milder form. It often happens that when the person becomes conversant with the symbolic significance of these dreams, the symbolism no longer recurs and dreams of a sexual nature to the ungratified take place in an undisguised form. Consequently, if the subject is enlightened and encouraged, there is little distress felt, and the shock of the after-anxiety is largely removed. Freud maintains that the primary function of the dream is to protect sleep by giving pleasurable activities to the unconscious psychic processes that otherwise would tend to interfere with sleep. This is appreciated when we consider that the unconscious processes are perpetually in action, only prevented from entering consciousness by the influence of the censorship. In sleep, therefore, this censorship is lifted, allowing the unconscious wishes to take the field, and express themselves with abandon, making up for the repressions to which they are subjected during waking hours. The dreams of children, in particular, afford easy access to the workings of the Unconscious, because with young people, being less sophisticated, and laboring under fewer social inhibitions, the dreams are not so distorted by an excess of symbolization as is the case with the adult. Nevertheless, there are still countless inhibitions to which children are subjected, as we know from the constant admonitions: “Johnny, don’t do this; Johnny, don’t do that,” etc. Dreams are the removal of sleep-disturbing psychic stimuli by way of hallucinated satisfaction. Day-Dreams.—Day-dreams, or phantasying, like their prototype of our sleep, are also wish-fulfillments. They represent a tendency on the part of the primitive side of our personality to retreat or get away from reality; to realize and enjoy for a few brief moments the unattainable. We have all “built castles in the air.” Some of us have soared to untold heights—if only to come down with a crash! Wishes are as common to the beggar as to the king—perhaps more so, as the former has more to wish for that would enhance his condition of life. Unlike the dreams of our sleep, day-dreams are usually accompanied by some effort; we tend to guide them, although this tendency in many instances may be more apparent than real, as there is also the influence of our Unconscious leading us on, whereas we may believe we are directing it. Day-dreams have both good and bad influences. If we develop the power to co-operate with the unconscious psychic forces and to “exploit” them through occasional use of the day-dream, we are on the way to accomplishing some worth while work in life. As a result of reveries or day-dreams, combined with some directed thinking, the poet and the artist create their immortal works; and the inventor gives to the world his epoch-making mechanical devices; the scientist discovers natural laws of the universe and utilizes the knowledge so gained for human progress; the ambitious student is inspired and spurred on to reach some goal of constructive effort. Such dreams have resulted in imperishable works of art and literature, and great scientific and mechanical achievements, etc. The evil side of day-dreaming is in letting the dreams run completely away with us, which in the nature of themselves they tend to do, instead of harnessing them to an object, or conquering them for a purpose. Day-dreamers of this type are represented by the loafer of all types and degrees. All lazy, indolent people work incessantly at this unproductive occupation. The immature youth, until he is taught by example and precept, or forced by circumstances, is inclined to dream when not occupied with play or work. Naturally the work is usually of a light, diverting nature, and as play is an expression of the unconscious wishes, we see how the Unconscious dominates the child almost completely. In most cases it is merely a question of environmental conditions whether he will dream himself down into a loafer, or up into communion with the gods and become a creator of something worth while. In other words, day-dreaming in moderation is desirable under proper conditions. Its abuse is the abomination. The chronic day-dreamer who becomes a victim of his fault is usually a person who avoids social intercourse. He finds his pleasures in dreaming, and he prefers to be alone so that his dreams may not be disturbed. Thus, he becomes anti-social. He flees from reality whenever the occasion presents itself—and he is always willing to make such occasions—and finds refuge in the unreal world of his dreams. As a result, no matter how shiftless or lazy, no matter how low he has fallen in the social scale, his dreams enable him to realize his goal of superiority. In his dreams he is again in the fairy-land of his childhood longings. The most absurd desires come true, and the dreamer is invariably the favored fairy prince. This is true, whether the motif of his dreams is clothed in the scenery of the early fairy tales—most often they are not—or in the pictorial effects of contemporary life. In any event, he is regressing to the infantile level.

III. THE UNCONSCIOUS BASIS OF WIT There are few people so devoid of an innate sense of humor that they do not respond to wit, although often they may manage to successfully conceal the outward appearances of the response. Sometimes, in fact, the reaction to the stimuli of wit may not be conscious at all. There is reason to believe, however, that every person who approaches what may be called a normal mental plane experiences an unconscious, if not a conscious response, to wit, humor, the comic, the naive, caricature, etc. And in those of abnormal psychic tendencies who may not react to these stimuli, it will be found that they accomplish the same result by other means—that is, their unconscious mind is relaxed by other forms of expression or diversion. The manifestations of the various neuroses in themselves constitute an unconscious means of relief—although of the most unnatural and irrational form. They act as a substitute means of gratification. In behalf of wit, it may be said that, within bounds, it is the most social type of unconscious gratification. Most other forms are egotistical, such as day-dreaming, phantasying, dreaming in sleep, etc., involving only the single individual. They are purely self-centered means of satisfying the unconscious mind. Wit, however, has a decided social value, unless of course, it is carried to unwarranted extremes. And it is primarily among those whose Unconscious exercises a predominating influence over their actions who are apt to indulge in wit that tends to be destructive or extremely unpleasant. In the first place, wit usually requires a second or third person, and may involve a large audience, as in the case with professional story tellers, vaudeville performers, and certain other forms of organized amusement. Of course, there are plenty of instances where we smile to ourselves at jokes that come to mind, or upon reflecting on a witticism that we had once heard. But this, in reality, is an example of day-dreaming into which we lapse momentarily, perhaps in the midst of conscious mental effort. Thus the social value of wit is in making life pleasant and agreeable—sometimes even when it would be quite unbearable. It is frequently invoked under very trying or even tragic circumstances. We have all heard of instances when a grim joke has been passed by some one in a perilous position. It invariably relieves the tension in a crisis or at a serious climax. Notwithstanding our realization of the desperateness or even hopelessness of the situation, the unconscious relief or satisfaction which we experience in a joke under these circumstances often lifts us out of an agonizing suspense. If only temporary, the relief is nevertheless real and may be a valuable psychic bracer to sustain us in a time of need. Even in the presence of death or of some inescapable fate impending, this tendency is quite universal. Soldiers before battle, and in the thick of the fight, are known to relieve the suspense by some expression of wit, however grim. And it is an established fact in psychiatry that soldiers who are capable of so relaxing their unconscious tension are less susceptible to shell-shock. Shell-shock, indeed, is a form of neurosis produced by the abnormal environment, in which the victim is unable to get relief of the psychic tension over a more or less prolonged period. As a consequence, he develops shell-shock, which is a neurosis or type of insanity that may be almost any degree of intensity, as a substitute form of gratification of the self-preservation urge. Furthermore, it is usually successful to this extent: The attack makes the victim useless for military service, and sometimes any other kind, so he is sent to a hospital or other institution. But even if not at once removed he no longer suffers from the agonizing suspense of bombardment. By a very abnormal process he has been relieved. Another example of relieving the tension in the midst of death is the old custom of the Irish wake. This ancient folk tradition of the Irish race makes full allowance for the psychic needs of the occasion by permitting light story telling and other expressions of a diverting nature. The practices of this function unconsciously recognize a basic requirement of the psyche. Wit, in substance, is a form of mental relaxation because invariably it is illogical. And as logic is a development of the conscious mind, the interruption of concentration, or the deviation from logical reasoning, affords momentary relaxation. Among those of so primitive a mentality that the faculty of logic is at low stage of development or practically non-existent, then what we consider wit would not to them have the same significance. For instance, children two or three years of age are prone to make very “funny” remarks. The expressions sound humorous to us because of their absolutely illogical construction. But to the child, they are not funny or humorous, because the infantile mind lacks the perception to realize that the utterance is illogical. This is the case of an unintentional misuse of words, resulting in a ludicrous effect. The child or person of primitive, undeveloped mind laughs at what he believes to be a joke when he is placed in a position of apparent superiority. When I get down on the floor on all fours, and my three-year-old youngster grabs my coat-tails or rides on my back and bids me assume the lowly function of the quadruped, he is conscious of a feeling of superiority—as we are in driving a horse. The infant becomes a very superior person in his mind, and this to him is the real kind of a joke. Wit is a diverting short-cut from the stiffness and sober conventionality so constantly demanded in civilized life. The whole evolution of civilization has been the history of repressing primitive instincts. With this constant repression and inhibition there develops in our unconscious personality a tension of greater or lesser degree. The ever present tendency of the Unconscious is to relieve this tension. And anything that contributes to this form of relaxation is a mental tonic. Of course, an excess of tonic, like an excess of any good thing, is useless. Besides wit, petty mischief offers a favorite outlet to the youth and adolescent. It is the unconscious prompting and striving for some vogue, indefinite goal of satisfaction which makes gang-companionship, with all its evil potentialities, so alluring to the boy entering upon the age of puberty. A working knowledge of adolescent psychology has taught us that a substitute form of gratification for the destructive tendencies of the gang can be obtained by the youth in athletic activities, country hikes, woodcraft, etc. These diversions offer a healthy outlet for the pent-up psychic steam that accumulates so rapidly during this critical period of the boy’s life when he is undergoing profound physical and psychological changes. Wit, humor and fun are strikingly in evidence during the adolescent period. It is conceded for instance that the leading college comic papers, conducted entirely by youths, many quite inexperienced, contain better examples of real, spontaneous wit and humor than the national comic publications, which have a nation-wide field of professional “humorists” to draw from. When a semi-civilized being or a person of very low mental status sees calamity befall another, he may sense a huge joke. It is a joke, not because the accident or misfortune is illogical, but because it raises him to a position of greater comparative importance. It amounts to saying: “You are down and I am up.” The victim is now inferior. This is immensely pleasing to the unconscious which does not discriminate as to how the measure of superiority is attained. This quality is typical, in some pronounced degree, among neurotics, as it is to a lesser extent among more normal persons. We have all seen examples of the busy-body type of person who goes around his or her circle of acquaintances, bringing the latest news of misfortune that has befallen some one. Notwithstanding the conscious lamentations that are forced upon us, the eagerness with which the oracle unfolds his story of somebody’s trouble carries a connotation of pleasure which the student of psycho-analysis readily perceives. A very primitive Unconscious is being gratified. The characteristic of wit is its brevity; its quick action; its spontaneity. “A flash of wit” in its true sense is as well phrased as “a flash of lightning.” Attempted wit, that results in long, studied dissertations, no matter how carefully gotten up, is rarely, if ever, wit. While it may sometimes involve humorous situations, there is seldom present the characteristic of wit. The psychology of wit takes into account the intellectual standard of both speakers and the listeners. Subtle jokes that are appreciated by persons of keen mind go over the heads of those with less perception. This tendency is often observed in vaudeville audiences, which are apt to comprise people of all types and degrees of intellectual development. A particularly subtle joke is uttered by the performer, and here and there is an individual in the audience who will “get it.” A few seconds later quite a large number will begin to snicker and finally the balance of the audience will start to laugh—for the most part because they have caught the spirit of the occasion, even if they have missed the point made by the comedian. The mother-in-law motive in jokes, which is so universally invoked, is given a deeply vital significance by Freud in his book, “Totem and Taboo.” Among men and women who have had few cultural advantages, wit becomes less and less subtle and descends to a lower and lower intellectual scale. Persons under the influence of alcohol, that is, where the conscious inhibitions are partially lifted, may consider any lewd remark as quite humorous. Sex and ego, as in dreams, form the underlying themes for most jokes. So either of these tendencies may easily veer into the questionable under the stimuli of their basic sources, especially when the conscious repressions are relaxed by convivial associations or the influence of Bacchus. Some examples of wit are so outstanding in their excellence that they remain classics for a long time—not for current usage in lieu of the spontaneous variety, but for better illustrating the characteristics of a prominent person. These are usually the jokes of faulty logic. Those associated with the name of Lincoln are almost legion. One attributed to Wendell Phillips was good enough to stand the test of time, as we occasionally hear it referred to at this late day. When asked by a minister why he did not go right into the heart of the South to save the Negroes from slavery, the abolitionist, in turn, asked the clergyman why in his search for souls he did not go straight to hell. The comparison between the South and Hell can hardly stand the test of logic. My old school master was a ready wit and a man of unusual intellectual attainments, although some of his personal habits were rather slovenly, making him quite a picturesque character of more than local prominence. One of his petty vices was chewing tobacco, in which he indulged himself out of school and in. One day the local Methodist preacher, a close personal friend, chided him for indulging in so unbecoming a habit, saying, “even a hog wouldn’t chew tobacco.” Instantly the school master asked him if he wouldn’t chew tobacco. The negative reply brought the retort, “then you are a hog.” The idea of putting the dignified parson in the same category as the hog because they had one evident dislike in common was ludicrous because illogical. There is the Hungarian folk tale which tells of a blacksmith in a village who had committed a crime punishable by death; the Burgomaster, however, decreed that not the smith, but a tailor, must be hanged, as there were two tailors in the village, but only one blacksmith, and the crime had to be expiated. This displacement of guilt from one person to another is contrary to all laws of conscious logic, but not to the psychic operations of the Unconscious. So consciously, this ridiculous idea amuses us. The natural sequel of wit or a joke is to laugh. We have all experienced the almost unbearable situation wherein our sense of humor had been touched very strongly, but the proprieties of the occasion made it imperative that we should not give way visibly or audibly to our feelings. As a consequence, we have had the painful sensation of being choked up with something that should come out or express itself. Thus, we are under a nerve-racking tension, quite ready to “explode.” Laughter is the physical demonstration which accompanies the response to the stimuli of wit, jokes, humor, etc. It is the means of a free and quick discharge of psychic energy. Besides the common (or uncommon) variety of good-natured wit, there is also the well-known brand of wit which causes pain or chagrin to the person at whom the shaft of witticism is aimed. The cynic, or perpetrator of this kind of joke, thus exhibits a strong sadist tendency, which is present in all of us, but in widely varying degrees. He causes pain to another—and gets pleasure or satisfaction out of it. On the other hand, those who good-naturedly laugh or pass off a joke of this kind, are demonstrating a well defined masochistic tendency, which also is inherent in everyone. Certain jokes, especially the so-called “practical jokes” are frequently of an intensely irritating or even destructive character. The unconscious mind is fundamentally primitive and uncultured, and takes a positive delight in causing pain and misfortune to others. It craves excitement. And it is only our hundreds of thousands of years of human progress, with the consequent development of the social instincts and the sublimation of the primitive forces in our individual lives, which overcomes to a large degree the destructive tendencies of the Unconscious.