Tip: To see statistics of the Most Popular Journal Articles on PEP-Web…
PEP-Web Tip of the Day
Statistics of the Most Popular Journal Articles on PEP-Web can be reviewed at any time. Just click the “See full statistics” link located at the end of the Most Popular Journal Articles list in the PEP Section.
For the complete list of tips, see PEP-Web Tips on the PEP-Web support page.
Ellis, H. (1925). The Synthesis of Dreams: A Study of a Series of One Hundred Dreams. Psychoanal. Rev., 12(4):429-459.
(1925). Psychoanalytic Review, 12(4):429-459
The Synthesis of Dreams: A Study of a Series of One Hundred Dreams
LXIII. Night of 30th July.
A light supper and then at once to bed.
I am about to sit down to table for tea. I am at the head of the table, half bending to sit down and with my right hand I am inviting some invisible person to take a seat. I know that the invisible person is my mother. I am happy, but I still do not see her. Suddenly I see a beautiful white swan on the chair to my right. It is my mother. This seems to me quite natural, and I am very happy. The swan's long white neck and black bill arise proudly with gentle undulating movements. I admire and love him.
On awaking I at once make water. The dream seems inexplicable.
(Later the dreamer spontaneously suggested that this was a bladder dream. In writing down the dream on awakening she underlined the color of the bill, for it seemed to her wrong; but some time later she found that her sleeping memory was more correct than her waking memory, and that a swan's bill really is black.)
LXIV. Same night.
We had been shipwrecked (though I do not know who“we” includes) and I feel that we have had many adventures, which I have forgotten, before we reach a great wall, smooth and slippery, and a man who is drawing me by the hand causes me to slide and fall down into what seems the moat of a fortress. There is, however, no water there; it seems a green terrace; I do not know whether of grass. The descent is perilous; the man, whom I do not sec, is a sailor. I do not think he goes down with me, for I see him no more. I seem to be in the fortress, on the green terrace surrounded by crenellated walls, and at a sort of table is a woman like a school mistress I know; she approaches and says in a half-cold, half-friendly manner, seeing my rather pitiable air,“I am very sorry but we are not allowed to grant anyone the right of asylum here.” At this I exclaim,“Damn!” which seems greatly to scandalize her. I tell her I must inform my husband, who is at another table at the end of the terrace.
[This is a summary or excerpt from the full text of the book or article. The full text of the document is available to subscribers.]