[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
low
the temporal sequence which we have described, viz. that there is fi
rst
the transferred dream-wish, then the distortion of the censor, and
consequently the change of direction to regression, and so on. We we
re
forced to form such a succession for the sake of _description_; in
reality, however, it is much rather a matter of simultaneously tryin
g
this path and that, and of emotions fluctuating to and fro, until
finally, owing to the most expedient distribution, one particular
grouping is secured which remains. From certain personal experiences
, I
am myself inclined to believe that the dream-work often requires mor
e
than one day and one night to produce its result; if this be true, t
he
extraordinary art manifested in the construction of the dream loses
all
its marvels. In my opinion, even the regard for comprehensibility as
an
occurrence of perception may take effect before the dream attracts
consciousness to itself. To be sure, from now on the process is
accelerated, as the dream is henceforth subjected to the same treatm
ent
as any other perception. It is like fireworks, which require hours o
f
preparation and only a moment for ignition.
Through the dream-work the dream process now gains either sufficient
intensity to attract consciousness to itself and arouse the
foreconscious, which is quite independent of the time or profundity
of
sleep, or, its intensity being insufficient it must wait until it me
ets
the attention which is set in motion immediately before awakening. M
ost
dreams seem to operate with relatively slight psychic intensities, f
or
they wait for the awakening. This, however, explains the fact that w
e
regularly perceive something dreamt on being suddenly aroused from a
sound sleep. Here, as well as in spontaneous awakening, the first gl
ance
strikes the perception content created by the dream-work, while the
next
strikes the one produced from without.
But of greater theoretical interest are those dreams which are capab
le
of waking us in the midst of sleep. We must bear in mind the expedie
ncy
elsewhere universally demonstrated, and ask ourselves why the dream
or
the unconscious wish has the power to disturb sleep, _i.e._ the
fulfillment of the foreconscious wish. This is probably due to certa
in
relations of energy into which we have no insight. If we possessed s
uch
insight we should probably find that the freedom given to the dream
and
the expenditure of a certain amount of detached attention represent
for
the dream an economy in energy, keeping in view the fact that the
unconscious must be held in check at night just as during the day. W
e
know from experience that the dream, even if it interrupts sleep,
repeatedly during the same night, still remains compatible with slee
p.
We wake up for an instant, and immediately resume our sleep. It is l
ike
driving off a fly during sleep, we awake _ad hoc_, and when we resum
e
our sleep we have removed the disturbance. As demonstrated by famili
ar
examples from the sleep of wet nurses, &c., the fulfillment of the w
ish
to sleep is quite compatible with the retention of a certain amount
of
attention in a given direction.
But we must here take cognizance of an objection that is based on a
better knowledge of the unconscious processes. Although we have
ourselves described the unconscious wishes as always active, we have
,
nevertheless, asserted that they are not sufficiently strong during
the
day to make themselves perceptible. But when we sleep, and the
unconscious wish has shown its power to form a dream, and with it to
awaken the foreconscious, why, then, does this power become exhauste
d
after the dream has been taken cognizance of? Would it not seem more
probable that the dream should continually renew itself, like the
troublesome fly which, when driven away, takes pleasure in returning
again and again? What justifies our assertion that the dream removes
the
disturbance of sleep?
That the unconscious wishes always remain active is quite true. They
represent paths which are passable whenever a sum of excitement make
s
use of them. Moreover, a remarkable peculiarity of the unconscious
processes is the fact that they remain indestructible. Nothing can b
e
brought to an end in the unconscious; nothing can cease or be forgot
ten.
This impression is most strongly gained in the study of the neuroses
,
especially of hysteria. The unconscious stream of thought which lead
s to
the discharge through an attack becomes passable again as soon as th
ere
is an accumulation of a sufficient amount of excitement. The
mortification brought on thirty years ago, after having gained acces
s to
the unconscious affective source, operates during all these thirty y
ears
like a recent one. Whenever its memory is touched, it is revived and
shows itself to be supplied with the excitement which is discharged
in
a motor attack. It is just here that the office of psychotherapy beg
ins,
its task being to bring about adjustment and forgetfulness for the
unconscious processes. Indeed, the fading of memories and the flaggi
ng
of affects, which we are apt to take as self-evident and to explain
as a
primary influence of time on the psychic memories, are in reality
secondary changes brought about by painstaking work. It is the
foreconscious that accomplishes this work; and the only course to be
pursued by psychotherapy is the subjugate the Unc, to the domination
of
the Forec. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
low
the temporal sequence which we have described, viz. that there is fi
rst
the transferred dream-wish, then the distortion of the censor, and
consequently the change of direction to regression, and so on. We we
re
forced to form such a succession for the sake of _description_; in
reality, however, it is much rather a matter of simultaneously tryin
g
this path and that, and of emotions fluctuating to and fro, until
finally, owing to the most expedient distribution, one particular
grouping is secured which remains. From certain personal experiences
, I
am myself inclined to believe that the dream-work often requires mor
e
than one day and one night to produce its result; if this be true, t
he
extraordinary art manifested in the construction of the dream loses
all
its marvels. In my opinion, even the regard for comprehensibility as
an
occurrence of perception may take effect before the dream attracts
consciousness to itself. To be sure, from now on the process is
accelerated, as the dream is henceforth subjected to the same treatm
ent
as any other perception. It is like fireworks, which require hours o
f
preparation and only a moment for ignition.
Through the dream-work the dream process now gains either sufficient
intensity to attract consciousness to itself and arouse the
foreconscious, which is quite independent of the time or profundity
of
sleep, or, its intensity being insufficient it must wait until it me
ets
the attention which is set in motion immediately before awakening. M
ost
dreams seem to operate with relatively slight psychic intensities, f
or
they wait for the awakening. This, however, explains the fact that w
e
regularly perceive something dreamt on being suddenly aroused from a
sound sleep. Here, as well as in spontaneous awakening, the first gl
ance
strikes the perception content created by the dream-work, while the
next
strikes the one produced from without.
But of greater theoretical interest are those dreams which are capab
le
of waking us in the midst of sleep. We must bear in mind the expedie
ncy
elsewhere universally demonstrated, and ask ourselves why the dream
or
the unconscious wish has the power to disturb sleep, _i.e._ the
fulfillment of the foreconscious wish. This is probably due to certa
in
relations of energy into which we have no insight. If we possessed s
uch
insight we should probably find that the freedom given to the dream
and
the expenditure of a certain amount of detached attention represent
for
the dream an economy in energy, keeping in view the fact that the
unconscious must be held in check at night just as during the day. W
e
know from experience that the dream, even if it interrupts sleep,
repeatedly during the same night, still remains compatible with slee
p.
We wake up for an instant, and immediately resume our sleep. It is l
ike
driving off a fly during sleep, we awake _ad hoc_, and when we resum
e
our sleep we have removed the disturbance. As demonstrated by famili
ar
examples from the sleep of wet nurses, &c., the fulfillment of the w
ish
to sleep is quite compatible with the retention of a certain amount
of
attention in a given direction.
But we must here take cognizance of an objection that is based on a
better knowledge of the unconscious processes. Although we have
ourselves described the unconscious wishes as always active, we have
,
nevertheless, asserted that they are not sufficiently strong during
the
day to make themselves perceptible. But when we sleep, and the
unconscious wish has shown its power to form a dream, and with it to
awaken the foreconscious, why, then, does this power become exhauste
d
after the dream has been taken cognizance of? Would it not seem more
probable that the dream should continually renew itself, like the
troublesome fly which, when driven away, takes pleasure in returning
again and again? What justifies our assertion that the dream removes
the
disturbance of sleep?
That the unconscious wishes always remain active is quite true. They
represent paths which are passable whenever a sum of excitement make
s
use of them. Moreover, a remarkable peculiarity of the unconscious
processes is the fact that they remain indestructible. Nothing can b
e
brought to an end in the unconscious; nothing can cease or be forgot
ten.
This impression is most strongly gained in the study of the neuroses
,
especially of hysteria. The unconscious stream of thought which lead
s to
the discharge through an attack becomes passable again as soon as th
ere
is an accumulation of a sufficient amount of excitement. The
mortification brought on thirty years ago, after having gained acces
s to
the unconscious affective source, operates during all these thirty y
ears
like a recent one. Whenever its memory is touched, it is revived and
shows itself to be supplied with the excitement which is discharged
in
a motor attack. It is just here that the office of psychotherapy beg
ins,
its task being to bring about adjustment and forgetfulness for the
unconscious processes. Indeed, the fading of memories and the flaggi
ng
of affects, which we are apt to take as self-evident and to explain
as a
primary influence of time on the psychic memories, are in reality
secondary changes brought about by painstaking work. It is the
foreconscious that accomplishes this work; and the only course to be
pursued by psychotherapy is the subjugate the Unc, to the domination
of
the Forec. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]