There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 11

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“Every dream, if it is really understood, not only with the intellect but really emotionally understood, has such a shot-like “Aha” effect upon one. If you do not have that, then you have not understood the dream yet…Every understood dream is like a slight electric shock into higher consciousness.” ~ Marie-Louise von Franz, Alchemical Active Imagination, pp. 55-56

via Carl Jung Psychology blog

Dreams: Portals to an Unfamiliar Realm! For centuries, dreams have captivated humans, acting as both a source of awe and enigma. Every night, when we sleep, we enter a realm beyond reality—a space where logic gives way to imagination and the impossible becomes normal. This mysterious world has its own rules, landscapes, and inhabitants, often reflecting our deepest fears, hopes, and desires.
The true essence of dreams remains unknown. Researchers and philosophers have long debated their origins and significance. Some believe dreams are the mind’s way of processing memories and emotions, while others see them as glimpses into the subconscious that reveal our innermost thoughts. Regardless of their purpose, dreams remind us that parts of ourselves—and possibly reality—are still unexplored and mysterious.
Dreams encourage us to explore our inner world and foster curiosity and self-awareness. Night after night, they show us that life is more intricate and fascinating than it appears during our waking hours. Through dreams, we glimpse a world beyond our understanding—one that often fills us with wonder or reminds us of things we’ve forgotten.

The psychological characteristics of dreams (Die psychologischen Besonderheiten des Traumes)

In this section of Freud’s book, Interpretation of Dreams, he examines the unique qualities and behaviors of dreams from a psychological viewpoint. Freud states that dreams possess distinctive characteristics that differentiate them from waking thoughts.

Since this section is lengthy, I will divide it into several parts in my translation. I hope you enjoy reading it. 🙏💖

In the scientific study of dreams, we proceed from the assumption that dreams are products of our own mental activity. Yet, the finished dream appears to us as something alien—something we feel so little urge to claim as our own creation that we are just as likely to say “Me had a dream” (mir hat geträumt) as “I dreamed” (ich habe geträumt). What is the source of this “mental alienness” of the dream? Based on our discussions regarding the sources of dreams, we might conclude that dreams do not stem from the material that finds its way into dream content; for the most part, this material is common to both dream and waking life. One might ask whether it is, in fact, alterations in the psychological processes occurring during the dream that give rise to this impression, and thus attempt to outline the dream’s psychological characteristics.

No one has emphasised the fundamental difference between dreaming and waking life more strongly, or drawn more far-reaching conclusions from it, than G. Th. Fechner in certain remarks within his Elements of Psychophysics (Vol. II, p. 520). He argues that “neither the simple depression of conscious mental life below the principal threshold nor the withdrawal of attention from external influences suffices to explain the distinctive characteristics of the dream state as opposed to waking life. Rather, he argues that the arena of dreams differs from that of waking mental imagery. “If the arena of psychophysical activity were the same during sleep and wakefulness, then, in my view, the dream could be nothing more than a continuation of waking mental imagery maintained at a lower level of intensity, and would necessarily share its content and form. But the reality is quite different.”

It has likely not become clear what Fechner meant by such a relocation of mental activity; nor, to my knowledge, has anyone else pursued the path whose trail he indicated in that remark. One would presumably have to rule out an anatomical interpretation in terms of physiological brain localisation, or even one referring to the histological layering of the cerebral cortex. Yet the idea might one day prove ingenious and fruitful if applied to a mental apparatus composed of several agencies arranged in sequence.

Other authors have contented themselves with highlighting one or another tangible psychological peculiarity of dream life and using it, for instance, as a starting point for more far-reaching attempts at explanation.
It has rightly been noted that one of the principal characteristics of dream life manifests itself as early as the process of falling asleep and can be described as a phenomenon that ushers in sleep. According to Schleiermacher (p. 351), the defining feature of the waking state is that the activity of thought proceeds in terms of concepts rather than images. Now, the dream thinks primarily in images, and one can observe that, as sleep approaches—and to the same extent that voluntary activities become difficult—involuntary mental images emerge, all of which belong to the class of visual images. The inability to perform the kind of mental work we perceive as intentional, combined with the emergence of images regularly associated with this state of mental drift—these are two characteristics that remain with the dream, and that we must recognise as essential features of dream life during psychological analysis. We have learned that these images—hypnagogic hallucinations—are identical in content to dream images.

Thus, the dream thinks predominantly in visual images, though not exclusively so. It also operates with auditory images and, to a lesser extent, with impressions from the other senses. Much is also simply thought or imagined in the dream (likely represented by traces of word-presentations), just as in the waking state. Yet the only elements of content characteristic of the dream are those that behave like images—that is, those that more closely resemble perceptions than memory-images. Setting aside the debates regarding the nature of hallucinations—discussions well known to psychiatrists—we can state, in agreement with all expert authors, that the dream hallucinates, that it replaces thoughts with hallucinations. In this respect, there is no difference between visual and auditory presentations; it has been observed that the memory of a sequence of notes with which one falls asleep transforms, as one drifts off, into a hallucination of that same melody, only to give way again—upon the return to consciousness (which may alternate several times with dozing)—to the quieter and qualitatively different memory-image.

The transformation of a mental image into a hallucination is not the only way in which a dream deviates from a corresponding waking thought.
From these images, the dream constructs a situation; it presents something as present and dramatises an idea—to use Spitta’s expression (p. 145). However, the characterisation of this aspect of dream life is only complete if one adds the fact that, while dreaming—as a rule (exceptions require special explanation)—one believes oneself to be experiencing events rather than thinking about them, and thus accepts the hallucinations with complete conviction. The critical realisation that one has not actually experienced anything, but merely thought—or dreamed—in a peculiar way, arises only upon waking. This characteristic distinguishes the genuine sleep dream from daydreaming, which is never confused with reality.

To be continued!

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Here is another quick health update: I visited my doctor—not just because I felt weak, but because my head would spin whenever I read or looked at anything online. I was experiencing vertigo. He ran blood tests and found high inflammation. I need to start antibiotics. We all must stay strong!
Looking forward to seeing what the next steps bring!

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 10

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Lenole Art (Instagram)

Dream Stimuli and Dream Sources (Traumreize und Traumquellen)

Hello, dear friends. I’m sharing another section of Freud’s book with my translation. I hope you find it interesting and insightful. This part discusses forgetting dreams—I usually forget mine, though the ones that endure seem to stay forever. I believe we forget dreams after waking because we don’t want to remember them right away, so we push them into the unknown for later.

Anyway, Dr Freud explains why we forget our dreams, and I think his research is worth exploring, especially since Dr Carl Jung admired Freud’s work. Here are some quotes from Carl Jung’s Depth Psychology, by my good friend Lewis Lafontaine. 🙏

It is Freud’s great achievement to have put dream-interpretation on the right track. ~Carl Jung, CW 8, Para 539

“Freud was kind to people and gave them his interest; that was what cured, and that is what always cures – the human contact.”
~Carl Jung, Meetings with Jung, Page 48

Let’s proceed with Freud’s arguments. The previous chapter is available here!

Why do we forget the dream after waking up? (Warum man den Traum nach dem Erwachen vergisst?)

It is proverbial that a dream “dissolves” in the morning. Yet it is certainly capable of being remembered. After all, we know the dream only through memory after waking; yet we very often believe that we recall it only incompletely, whereas more of it was present during the night; we can observe how a dream memory—vivid in the morning—fades over the course of the day until only small fragments remain; we often know that we have dreamt, but not what we dreamt; and we are so accustomed to the experience of dreams being subject to oblivion that we do not dismiss as absurd the possibility that a person who, in the morning, knows nothing of the content or even the fact of having dreamt, might nevertheless have dreamt during the night. On the other hand, it happens that dreams display extraordinary persistence in memory. I have analysed dreams of my patients that occurred twenty-five or more years ago, and I can recall a dream of my own separated from the present by at least thirty-seven years, yet it has lost nothing of its freshness in memory. All this is very strange and, at first glance, incomprehensible.

Strümpell discusses the forgetting of dreams at greatest length. This forgetting is evidently a complex phenomenon, for Strümpell attributes it not to a single cause but to a whole series of reasons.

To begin with, the same factors that cause forgetting in waking life are at work in the forgetting of dreams. When awake, we tend to quickly forget a vast number of sensations and perceptions because they were too weak—because the mental excitation associated with them was insufficiently intense. The same applies to many dream images: they are forgotten because they were too weak, whereas stronger images that occur alongside them are remembered. However, intensity alone is not the decisive factor in retaining dream images; Strümpell, like other authors (such as Calkins), acknowledges that we often quickly forget dream images known to have been very vivid, while many of the images retained in memory are shadowy and faint. Furthermore, in the waking state, we tend to forget events that occurred only once, while remembering better those we perceived repeatedly. However, most dream images are unique experiences (though recurring dreams have been noted; cf. Chabaneix’s collection); this characteristic inevitably contributes to the forgetting of all dreams. A third reason for forgetting is far more significant. For sensations, mental images, thoughts, and the like to attain a certain degree of memorability, they must not remain isolated but rather enter into appropriate connections and associations. If one breaks a short verse down into its constituent words and jumbles them, it becomes very difficult to commit it to memory. “When well-ordered and arranged in a logical sequence, one word supports another, and the whole remains firmly, easily, and enduringly in the memory. We generally find it just as difficult—and rare—to retain nonsensical material as we do material that is confused and disordered.”
Yet, in most cases, dreams lack coherence and order. Dream compositions inherently lack the basis for their own retention and are forgotten because they usually disintegrate almost immediately. – Admittedly, this view does not quite align with Radestock’s observation (p. 168) that it is precisely the strangest dreams we remember best.

Strümpell considers other factors, derived from the relationship between the dream and waking life, to be even more significant in causing dreams to be forgotten. The fact that dreams are forgotten by waking consciousness is evidently merely the counterpart to the previously mentioned fact that the dream (almost) never incorporates organised memories from waking life, but rather only isolated details torn from the familiar mental associations in which they are recalled during the waking state. Dream imagery thus finds no place within the array of mental sequences that fill the mind; it lacks all mnemonic aids. “In this way, the dream formation detaches itself, as it were, from the soil of our mental life and floats in the psychic realm like a cloud in the sky, quickly dispersed by a fresh breath of air” (p. 87). Working in the same direction is the fact that, upon waking, the encroaching sensory world immediately lays claim to one’s attention, so that very few dream images can withstand this force. They give way to the impressions of the new day just as the radiance of the stars fades before the light of the sun.

Sigmund Freud’s Letter to Carl Jung, September 19, 1907

Finally, a factor conducive to the forgetting of dreams is that most people show little interest in them to begin with. For instance, anyone who—perhaps as a researcher—takes an interest in dreams for a time will also dream more than usual during that period; this presumably means they recall their dreams more easily and more frequently.
Two other reasons for the forgetting of dreams—added by Bonatelli (cited in Benini) to those proposed by Strümpell—are arguably already implicit in the latter: namely, 1) that the shift in general bodily sensation between sleep and wakefulness is unfavourable to reciprocal recall, and 2) that the different arrangement of mental imagery in dreams renders them, so to speak, untranslatable for waking consciousness.

Given all these reasons for forgetting, it becomes—as Strümpell himself emphasises—all the more remarkable that so much of our dreams is nevertheless retained in memory. The persistent efforts of authors to formulate rules for recalling dreams amount to an admission that, here too, something remains enigmatic and unresolved. Certain peculiarities in the recollection of dreams have rightly attracted special attention of late—for instance, the fact that a dream one believes to have forgotten in the morning may be recalled later in the day, triggered by a perception that happens to touch upon the dream’s—supposedly forgotten—content (Radestock, Tissié). However, the entire phenomenon of dream recall is subject to an objection that could well lead a critical observer to devalue it significantly. One might question whether our memory—which omits so much of the dream—also distorts the fragments it has preserved.

Strümpell also voices doubts about the accuracy of dream reproduction: “It easily happens, then, that waking consciousness involuntarily inserts various elements into the memory of the dream: one imagines having dreamt all sorts of things that the actual dream did not contain.” Jessen expresses himself particularly emphatically on this point (p. 547):
“Moreover, when examining and interpreting coherent and logical dreams, one must give serious consideration to a circumstance that—it seems—has hitherto received little attention: namely, that the truth is almost always compromised in the process, because, when we recall a dream we have had, we—without noticing or intending to—fill in and supplement the gaps in the dream imagery. Rarely, and perhaps never, was a coherent dream actually as coherent as it appears to us in memory.
Even for the most truthful person, it is scarcely possible to recount a remarkable dream one has experienced without any additions or embellishments; the human mind’s drive to perceive everything as a coherent whole is so strong that, when recalling a somewhat disjointed dream, it involuntarily supplies the missing links in the narrative.”

V. Egger’s remarks, which were certainly conceived independently, sound almost like a translation of Jessen’s words: »… l’observation des rêves a ses difficultés spéciales et le seul moyen d’éviter toute erreur en pareille matière est de confier au papier sans le moindre retard ce que l’on vient d’éprouver et de remarquer; sinon, l’oubli vient vite ou total ou partiel; l’oubli total est sans gravité; mais l’oubli partiel est perfide; car si l’on se met ensuite à raconter ce que l’on n’a pas oublié, on est éxposé à compléter par imagination les fragments incohérents et disjoints fourni par la mémoire …; on devient artiste à son insu, et le récit periodiquement répété s’impose à la créance de son auteur, qui, de bonne foi, le présente comme un fait authentique, dûment établi selon les bonnes méthodes …« {Observing dreams poses particular difficulties, and the only way to avoid error in such matters is to commit to paper, without the slightest delay, what one has just experienced and noted; otherwise, forgetting—whether total or partial—quickly sets in. Total forgetting is of no consequence, but partial forgetting is treacherous; for if one subsequently sets out to recount what has not been forgotten, one risks filling in the gaps—using one’s imagination—within the incoherent, disjointed fragments supplied by memory… One becomes an artist unwittingly, and the story, through repeated telling, comes to be believed by its own author, who then—in good faith—presents it as an authentic fact, duly established according to sound methods…}

Spitta (p. 338) holds a very similar view; he seems to assume that it is only when we attempt to reproduce the dream that we introduce order into the loosely associated dream elements—”transforming the side-by-side arrangement into a sequence or a separation, thereby adding the process of logical connection that is absent in the dream.”
Now, since we possess no means of verifying the accuracy of our memory other than objective confirmation—which is impossible in the case of a dream, an experience of our own for which memory is the sole source—what value can we still attach to our memory of the dream?

_____________Stay tuned! More coming soon!_________________

Thank you all so much, dear friends. As for my condition, I was constantly bouncing around and acting without paying attention to my age. But after the recent surgery, I realise, and must admit, with my tired bones, that I am an old man now! This is the reality of life on this earth, and I accept it.
I may write an extra post about that.

Take care, everyone.🙏🤗

Ego, Egoistic, or Egoism, and How It Can Be Useful!

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Egoism is a philosophical concept and a term that carries significant weight in both ethics and psychology. Derived from the Latin word “ego,” meaning “I” or “self,” egoism centres on the self as the primary, and sometimes sole, motivator of human action. The suffix “-ism” denotes a doctrine or belief, so egoism essentially refers to a system of thought based on the self.

Historically, the term began to take shape in the 18th and 19th centuries, although its roots are much older. Philosophers in ancient Greece, such as Socrates and Epicurus, discussed ideas related to self-interest and personal happiness, but the formal conceptualisation of egoism came later. In the 17th century, thinkers like Thomas Hobbes argued that humans are fundamentally motivated by self-interest, a view that laid the groundwork for later theories. Nowadays—or indeed for quite some time—however, it is perceived as an insult or as offensive. (Egoist!)

In ethics, egoism is most often discussed in two forms: psychological egoism and ethical egoism. Psychological egoism holds that humans naturally act in their own self-interest, even when their actions appear altruistic. In contrast, ethical egoism holds that individuals ought to act in their own best interests. The concept became especially prominent in the works of philosophers such as Max Stirner and Ayn Rand, who advocated the primacy of the self in moral reasoning.

I’ve personally had many experiences with ego and egoism, noticing them in my environment, and I also learned to temper my ego and let it fade away while living with my brother Al. I wanted to support him in his success and, therefore, keep hidden the desires and motivations that would feed my ego.

Today, egoism remains a controversial yet influential idea. It challenges assumptions about morality, altruism, and social responsibility, and continues to spark debate among philosophers, psychologists, and everyday thinkers alike.

“We could all be mediums, and all have absolute knowledge, if the bright light of our ego-consciousness would not dim it.”

~Marie-Louise von Franz

In Carl Jung’s psychology, the ego is the necessary centre of conscious awareness and identity, and it serves as the basis for enduring, translating, and integrating the overwhelming forces of the unconscious.
“The first half of life is devoted to forming a healthy ego; the second half is going inward and letting go of it,” said Betty DeShong Meador, an American Jungian analyst. Carl Jung himself said something similar:
“But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning; for what was great in the morning will be little at evening, and what in the morning was true will at evening have become a lie.” (From ‘The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche’)

Here, I’d like to present an excerpt from Marie-Louise von Franz’s book, The Interpretation of Fairy Tales. A simple and remarkable explanation of why the ego is necessary.

Illustration at the top: Lágrima (Tear), Digital surrealist painting by Marcel Caram

The Interpretation of Fairy Tales (The Three Feathers, p. 61-62)

…Imagine, for instance, that your instinct tells you to run away in a dangerous situation. (You do not require a very conscious ego to tell you that.) If a bull chases you, you do not need to consult your ego; you had better consult your legs, which know what to do. But if the ego functions with your legs, so that while running away from the bull, you also look for a good hiding place or a fence to jump over, then the situation is perfect: your instincts and your ego function in accord with each other. If, on the other hand, you are a philosopher whose legs want to run away but who thinks: “Stop! I must first find out whether it is right to run away from a bull,” then the ego blocks the instinctual urge; it has become autonomous and anti-instinctive and then becomes a destructive nuisance, such as we see in every neurotic individual. A neurosis could even be defined as an ego formation no longer in harmony with the whole personality, whereas when the ego functions in accordance with the larger totality, it reinforces itself and improves the innate cleverness of the basic instinctive arrangement.

Naturally, sometimes the ego would also be useful in resisting instinct. Imagine, for instance, the North Arctic lemmings, which get an instinctual urge to make a migration into another country where they can start again with a new food supply. Driven by an instinctual urge, they collect together and then march on. If, by a piece of bad luck, they come to the sea or a river, they go into it and drown by the thousands. I am sure you know this story, which has always puzzled zoologists, for it shows the silly unadaptedness of some natural instinct. Konrad Lorenz once gave a lecture with many such examples; I remember one about a bird which, to please his mate in the mating season, produces an enormous red sack on his chest with which to enforce his mating songs. This red sack is so heavy that he can not fly, so his enemies gather and butcher that bird. So that is not a good invention. A beautiful red tail or a red behind like a baboon’s to please his wife would be much better and would not prevent him from flying away. So you see, instinctual patterns are not only positive. If a lemming could ask itself what it was doing and reflect that it did not want to drown, and could go back, that would be very useful for it. So that is probably why nature has invented the ego as a new instrument for us; we are a new experiment of nature, for we have an additional instrument for regulating the instinctual urges. We do not live only on our patterns of behaviour but have this strange addition known as the ego.

PS: While I’m still itching my way towards better health every day, I am not giving up hope. Next week, I will continue with the post on Freud’s work. Thank you all for being there. 🙏💖