The Interpretation of Dreams

considerations. "Tout psychologiste," writes Delboeuf, "est
oblige de faire l'aveu meme de ses faiblesses s'il croit par la
jeter du jour sur quelque probleme obscur." * And I may assume for the
reader that his initial interest in the indiscretions which I must
commit will very soon give way to an exclusive engrossment in the
psychological problems elucidated by them.' *(2)
{II ^paragraph 30}
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* Every psychologist is obliged to admit even his own weaknesses, if
he thinks by that he may throw light on a difficult problem.
*(2) However, I will not omit to mention, in qualification of the
above statement, that I have practically never reported a complete
interpretation of a dream of my own. And I was probably right not to
trust too far to the reader's discretion.
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I shall therefore select one of my own dreams for the purpose of
elucidating my method of interpretation. Every such dream necessitates
a preliminary statement; so that I must now beg the reader to make
my interests his own for a time, and to become absorbed, with me, in
the most trifling details of my life; for an interest in the hidden
significance of dreams imperatively demands just such a transference.
{II ^paragraph 35}
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PRELIMINARY STATEMENT
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In the summer of 1895 I had treated psycho-analytically a young lady
who was an intimate friend of mine and of my family. It will be
understood that such complicated relations may excite manifold
feelings in the physician, and especially the psychotherapist. The
personal interest of the physician is greater, but his authority less.
If he fails, his friendship with the patient's relatives is in
danger of being undermined. In this case, however, the treatment ended
in partial success; the patient was cured of her hysterical anxiety,
but not of all her somatic symptoms. At that time I was not yet
quite sure of the criteria which denote the final cure of an
hysterical case, and I expected her to accept a solution which did not
seem acceptable to her. In the midst of this disagreement, we
discontinued the treatment for the summer holidays. One day a
younger colleague, one of my most intimate friends, who had visited
the patient- Irma- and her family in their country residence, called
upon me. I asked him how Irma was, and received the reply: "She is
better, but not quite well." I realize that these words of my friend
Otto's, or the tone of voice in which they were spoken, annoyed me.
I thought I heard a reproach in the words, perhaps to the effect
that I had promised the patient too much, and- rightly or wrongly- I
attributed Otto's apparent taking sides against me to the influence of
the patient's relatives, who, I assumed, had never approved of my
treatment. This disagreeable impression, however, did not become clear
to me, nor did I speak of it. That same evening I wrote the clinical
history of Irma's case, in order to give