13

V. THE PSYCHOLOGIST'S STONE

By Stephen Palmquist (stevepq@hkbu.edu.hk)

13. Encountering the Unconscious

The unconscious is like a stone. Just as every stone was originally part of a larger rock formation, so also each person's unconscious has roots that go far beyond our individual personality. Here are two stones that I keep in my office (see photo). Like the unconscious, these stones have a story to tell, but cannot express their story without the help of a conscious interpreter. This smooth one used to be part of "Logic Lane", a cobblestone street in Oxford that leads from High Street to the Philosophy Faculty Library. One day in 1986 when I was on my way home after visiting that library, my foot happened to step on a loose cobblestone. I decided to pick it up and keep it, as a reminder of all the great philosophers who must have walked down that same lane as they were thinking deep thoughts. To me this was a moment of "synchronicity", when my story "just happened" to intersect with this stone's story; ever since then, the stone has therefore served as a symbol reminding me of the importance of my tradition in shaping who I am today.

This rough stone has a very different story. When I first came to
Hong Kong I lived in a very noisy place. To rekindle a sense of inner silence, I used to take a hike in the mountains on the way to work about once a month. I would walk about halfway to the top of Lion Rock, and stop at a quiet, secluded place where I could put my bare feet in a cool stream. One day in 1988 I did this, just before the beginning of the semester when I first taught this course. As I sat there meditating, with my feet in the water, I saw a pile of rough stones at the bottom of the stream. Knowing that "polishing a stone" is a traditional way of symbolizing "working on personal growth", I decided I to collect a bag of stones to give my students. In the first class session, I asked each student to select one stone and keep it in a safe place. I encouraged them to imagine the stone being in their heart, and their eye being inside the stone. (Each stone was between an eye and a heart in size.) After each student had taken a stone, there was one left. I decided to keep this one for myself, as a symbol of my future students: it reminds me of my responsibility to become part of a tradition that shows love and care for rough young souls.

When you first saw me bring these stones to class today, you probably wondered what I was doing. When I placed them on the podium, they were meaningless to each of you. Why? Because you did not know their story. Notice how different they appear now, after I have shared with you my interpretation of just a small part of their story. In the same way, our dreams are meaningless to others (and often to ourselves) until we share them. Likewise, another person's actions may seem crazy or meaningless to you; but when you learn the story behind such actions, they almost always take on a completely new meaning. This week I shall be telling you more about the story of the "unconscious", as Jung saw it. So if this term has seemed meaningless to you up to now, I hope you will soon begin to see how it relates to your own story.

Jung acknowledged the important connection between the small "stone" and the larger "rock" out of which it comes by distinguishing between two aspects of the unconscious: the "personal" and the "collective". The personal unconscious consists of all the aspects of a person's unconscious that are unique to that individual. The various desires I have repressed, the memories I have forgotten, the detailed content of my dreams -these are all aspects of my personal unconscious. Relating a particular dream image to the various associations it conjures up from the dreamer's daily life is a form of dialogue between the conscious mind and the personal unconscious of the dreamer. Each person's unconscious will choose symbols that are appropriate to that person's waking life. The personal unconscious is somewhat like Freud's "preconscious", in that it can (and should) become conscious; indeed, "clearing up" the personal unconscious is one of the main tasks of dream interpretation (DA 73-75).

The collective unconscious, by contrast, consists of deeper layers of a person's psyche that are common to all human beings: cultural repressions, ancestral memory traces (as Freud called them) and a general form that is common to all dreams. Just as language has developed over "thousands or perhaps a million years" in order to serve the conscious mind as it does today, so also the collective unconscious has "a sort of eternal, imperishable language" of its own (DA 71). As we saw last week, the language of the unconscious is the language of symbolism. Thus, just as the personal unconscious utilizes particular symbolic images to carry out its compensatory work in the psyche, so also the collective unconscious utilizes general symbols that carry out a deeper form of compensation. Jung names these general symbols "archetypes".

Archetypes are primordial symbols that have an "objective" character (i.e., they are equally real for all human beings); accordingly, Jung sometimes refers to the collective unconscious as the "objective psyche". In contrast to Freud, who regarded the id as almost entirely subjective, with the more objective "ancestral memory traces" added almost as an afterthought, Jung regarded this objective part of the unconscious as much larger and more important than the subjective ("personal") part. Its contents can be found in their most objective form in the myths, rituals and symbols of each culture; and the many similarities between different cultural traditions can be regarded as the result of the influence of the collective unconscious on each individual. Jungian therapists are required to learn a great deal about the collective unconscious and its archetypes, so that they can help their patients become aware of connections between their personal unconscious and its collective roots (e.g., dreams that have close similarities to ancient myths). All of next week's lectures will therefore be devoted to an examination of the archetypes. Today I shall merely give a general description of the collective unconscious and how it relates to the personal unconscious, and then focus on examples of personal symbols and how they can be interpreted when they appear in our dreams.

Jung regarded archetypes as spontaneous (i.e., self-generating) images that have an independent reality. That is, their way of functioning and the patterns they follow are not primarily determined by an individual's personal unconscious. Rather, our personal unconscious is influenced by the typical patterns that are passed on to us through the collective unconscious. The archetypes are "charged" with "psychic energy", so our experience of them tends to be very emotional. Although their form can be defined fairly precisely (as we shall see next week), their content is unpredictable: they are little "pieces of life itself" (MHS 87). As such, Jung sometimes depicts the archetypes as mini-personalities that "live" in a person's unconscious. (Here Jung may have been influenced by Kant's definition of the term "archetype" as a "personified idea" in Book Two of Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason.) These personalities generate psychic energy because they are made up of opposites. Just as both the positive and negative poles of a battery must be connected in order for its electricity to be discharged, so also the unconscious generates energy only when the archetypes hold together a tension between opposites. In so doing, the archetypes are as important to unconscious processes as logical laws are to conscious thought.

Jung's theory of the collective unconscious is difficult to grasp, but is an essential component of his claim that his psychology is scientific. Two comparisons may help us to understand the distinction between the personal and collective unconscious more clearly. First, if we think of mankind as being like a forest, then each separate tree would represent an individual psyche (for a similar analogy, see TP, Ch.16). The leaves on all the trees could represent human consciousness. When the leaves fall to the ground, they rot, becoming the soil that feeds the whole forest. If we liken the collective unconscious to the soil, the personal unconscious would be like the roots of each tree. Just as the roots enable the tree to be nourished by the soil, so also the personal unconscious is the bridge that connects us to the objective psyche shared by all mankind.

Jung calls his study of archetypes a "comparative anatomy of the psyche" (MHS 57). This suggests a second analogy that reveals more explicitly the scientific character of the collective unconscious. If the collective unconscious is like human anatomy, then the personal unconscious would be like an individual's physical appearance. In both cases, science studies only the former, not the latter. There is and can be no science of the personal unconscious for the same reason there can be no science of facial appearance: science looks for general regularity; yet no two individuals are the same in the details of their physical or mental appearance. Science overlooks personal idiosyncrasies and searches for formal patterns that apply to all (or nearly all) cases. No book on human anatomy will be able to tell you what my face looks like; but it will tell you that my face, if "normal", should have two eyes, one nose, one mouth, etc. The standard for "normality" is determined entirely on the basis of empirical observation: generalizations are made on the basis of collecting data from numerous individual cases.

Jung constructed his theory of the collective unconscious in exactly the same way. Whereas Freud invented a hypothesis about human sexuality and then imposed it upon his patients' dreams in order to explain them, Jung first observed thousands of dreams and gradually learned to recognize general tendencies. Freud erred in trying to develop a science of the personal unconscious that would explain the content of each dream; the scientific aspect of psychology's task should focus instead, according to Jung, on observing the psyche's universal form. Just as an anatomy textbook can help us to understand our own body better, so also an understanding of the archetypes, as we shall see next week, can provide us with a "map" that will keep us from getting lost in the infinite variety of the personal unconscious.

Like the archetypes, the symbols that give the personal unconscious its great diversity carry with them psychic energy. This is because they, too, are characterized by the tension of opposites. We saw in lecture 11 that symbols operate according to synthetic logic (i.e., the logic of paradox, based on the laws A≠A and A=-A), and that this form of logic is itself the language of the unconscious (see also DA 132). Synthetic logic holds opposites together in tension, without forcing the opposition to be resolved, for our unconscious energy thrives on the difference. Let us now look at a few examples of how our psychic energy can be enhanced, and our psyche balanced, by interpreting the symbols that relate to our personal unconscious.

If you have located images in your dreams that you think might have a special symbolic meaning, but you are not sure what "hidden reality" they are pointing to (cf. Figure IV.1), try thinking of the characteristics and purposes (or functions) of the symbol in the role it ordinarily plays in waking life. For example, if I have a dream that takes place in a kitchen, I should begin by asking what the purpose of a kitchen is. Usually, it is to cook food. What, then, are the characteristics of cooking? What happens when we cook something? Something that is "raw" and not ready for eating is converted into something that is ready to eat. Such a change is likely to remind anyone taking this course of the fundamental purpose of dreamwork: the transformation of the raw into cooked can be a symbol of the transformation of our souls from immature to mature.

There are numerous dream books available that are filled with suggestions like the above for interpreting symbols. A dream that is set in a previous home, where the dreamer lived as a child, for example, could be taken to symbolize certain concepts or beliefs that were familiar at that stage of life, or perhaps some "habitual or inherited attitude" (DA 39). Flying or floating in the air can symbolize the dreamer's self-image, being a compensation for having a self-image that is either too high or too low in waking life. But these and the many other symbols that appear in your dreams might mean something else when they become a part of your personal unconscious. So it is important not to treat explanations of symbols in dream books (including this book) as a fixed code that can just be copied directly into your own dream diary. The examples I cite are intended only to describe tendencies or probabilities, not to give absolute answers.

When you find a meaningful symbol in a dream, be sure to explain the symbolism fully in your dream diary. Don't just say, for instance, "I think losing my tooth in this dream symbolizes a change that is about to happen". Instead, explain why it has this symbolic meaning. This usually involves relating the symbol to whatever associations you think are relevant to its meaning. If you cannot think of any meaningful interpretations when you are recording your dream text, it is a good idea just to make a list of the words or objects that you feel have some symbolic value. This makes it easier to go back over your whole dream diary looking for similar symbols that might form a series of dreams on a given topic. We'll talk more about dream series later this week. For now, let's consider how this view of symbols can be applied to the two sample dreams I quoted in the first week.

In my short sample dream ("sleep has a structure"), the word "sleep" is the primary symbol. Regarded as a symbol, it refers not only to sleep itself (i.e., to literal sleep), but also to something else that is in some way like sleep. To determine a list of possible symbolic meanings, I can ask myself what characteristics and purposes I associate with sleep. (What matters here are my associations, not a dictionary definition or someone else's opinion.) The main characteristic of sleep, for me, is that I am (my psyche is) unconscious. And its purpose is to renew my body's energy for the coming day. This suggests that my dream could be interpreted as conveying a symbolic message about either my unconscious or about my energy level in daily life, rather than a literal message about sleep.

In order to decide which of these interpretations is best, the principle of compensation should be taken into consideration. Which one serves to compensate for an imbalanced conscious attitude? Was my dream telling me that my unconscious has a structure, or that my energy level in daily life has a structure? Since I already firmly believe that the unconscious has a formal structure based on Jung's theory of archetypes, this interpretation would have no compensatory effect. The dream is therefore more likely to be compensating for a rather poorly organized waking life I had been experiencing during the days prior to the dream.

My longer sample dream contains far too many potential symbols to consider here. In the next lecture, however, I shall choose one pair of related symbols to examine in further detail: the camera and the tripod. For now, let's come back to these two rocks-themselves symbols of the two ways we have of encountering our unconscious. Like these rocks, whose stories I told you at the beginning of this lecture, every symbol has both past and future implications, according to Jung. With this in mind, you can ask yourself the following two questions whenever you are attempting to interpret any dream: (1) What is the dream telling me about who I have been, in the past? and (2) What is the dream telling me about who I could (or ought to) be, in the future? These correspond to the causal and teleological views on the psyche, as developed by Freud and Jung, respectively. Answering the first question can help us to alleviate neurotic symptoms from our life; answering the second can introduce us to new directions of meaning in life.

When my wife was in college one of her teachers assigned a dream diary as an extra credit project. Recording and interpreting her dreams was a major factor in her decision, later that year, to change majors from engineering to fine arts! This is because her dreams had encouraged her to think about why she had chosen to study engineering (in the past) and about what subject she would really enjoy studying. Your dream diary might not lead you to make any decisions that are quite this drastic. But nevertheless, if you treat it seriously, I am confident that you will reach significant and perhaps surprising conclusions about who you really are.

14. The Amplification Cycle

Remember last week when I talked about how the "resonance" of an interpretation is a good indicator of its value to the dreamer? I compared the sound waves reverberating in a guitar to the "meaning waves" bouncing around in your soul. Now I'd like to discuss Jung's use of another sound-related metaphor. Freud and Jung agree that one of the first steps to interpreting a dream is for the dreamer to relate the dream images to his or her waking experiences and ideas. Jung sometimes follows Freud in calling this process "association"; but elsewhere he calls it "amplification". Just as a guitar's sounding box amplifies the sound of the guitar string (i.e., makes it louder), so also the act of interpreting a dream should enlarge, expand, and beautify the dream's meaning.

Jung advises therapists to "[l]earn as much as you can about symbolism; then forget it all when you are analyzing a dream." As I explained in Lecture 3, this does not mean we can simply ignore all the standard methods of dream interpretation proposed by psychologists. That would be disastrous. His meaning was rather that a therapist (or anyone who helps another person understand a dream) should never presuppose that a particular dream must be interpreted in terms of a given theory. Jung repeatedly demonstrates that interpreters must "keep as close as possible to the dream itself" (MHS 12) in order to receive guidance as to which interpretations are most appropriate. To impose a theory onto a dream, a priori, could have the effect of inhibiting the discovery of a meaningful interpretation; the therapist's goal, by contrast, should be to amplify the dream images on their own terms, appealing to theories only when they are suggested by the dream's own content.

The principle that the dream speaks for itself is the necessary starting-point of Jungian amplification, for only by humbly assuming we are (at first) ignorant of the dream's hidden meaning is it likely to be revealed. (Incidentally, this corresponds directly to Kant's presupposition of the thing in itself as the unknowable starting-point of epistemology, and to the role of recognizing ignorance as the first stage in the process of learning to do philosophy [see TP, Part One].) Instead of following Freud's method of allowing associations to be "free" (a method that often "lures one away from [the dream] material in a kind of zigzag line"), Jung repeatedly directs the dreamer to return to the images actually presented in the dream: amplification "is more like a circumambulation whose center is the dream picture" (MHS 14). During this process, the interaction between therapist and dreamer takes on two distinct aspects, corresponding to the two divisions of the unconscious: personal and collective amplification (see Figure V.1).

Like the revolutions of a spiral, these two aspects of amplification are not necessarily distinct stages, but may occur at the same time or repeatedly, one cycle after another. Normally, the first thing that happens after we begin to listen to a dream and observe the images it presents to us is that we relate the dream to our personal associations. The therapist's chief aim here is to encourage the dreamer to locate those symbols that have a special meaning when interpreted in the context of waking

Figure V.1: The Cycle of Amplification

life. This "personal amplification" does not require much special training, and can be done fairly easily by anyone who learns how symbolism works. The second aspect of amplification, however, is more complex and may require the expertise of a trained therapist in order to proceed fruitfully. It involves relating the dream images to the contents of the collective unconscious. This is where Jungian therapists utilize the details they have learned about the myths, rituals, and symbols of numerous primitive and traditional cultures. By relating this information to images from their patient's dreams, therapists can help clarify how the dreamer's personal unconscious is rooted in the collective unconscious.

Unless you have an unusually deep knowledge of your own and other cultures, collective amplification is unlikely to play a very large role in your dreamwork. The one exception is that I will expect each of you to learn something about how archetypes work, and to get to know some of the characteristics of your own archetypes. This will be the main focus of next week's lectures, so I shall not go into any detail here. Instead, I'll simply note that ideally, collective amplification (especially relating to the archetypes) should shed more light on the dream's personal symbols, with the cycle of amplification continuing (alternating between personal and collective) until the dream image is understood.

Let's now review the various types of dream interpretation we've studied so far, and add a few new methods to the list. Keep in mind that the following methods are not exclusive. They can and often do overlap with each other, with the best interpretation making use of whichever methods apply most meaningfully to each particular dream. The main distinction throughout this course has been between Freudian and Jungian methods. Freud regarded dreams as the ego's tool for fulfilling a wish (an unconscious desire) that the ego is unable to keep repressed during sleep. Jung regarded dreams as the psyche's primary tool for self-regulation; by compensating for imbalances in a person's conscious life (including unfulfilled wishes, but going well beyond this limit), dreams can help a person discover the "meaning of life" by pointing toward his or her "true Self" (a concept we'll examine further in Week VII).

Four other interpretive methods mentioned (or alluded to) in previous lectures can be described in terms of the literal-symbolic and subjective-objective distinctions. On one level, a literal method treats a particular detail in a dream (e.g., a person, event, or object) as representing itself, as it actually is in waking life. A symbolic method, by contrast, treats each detail as pointing beyond itself to something else (e.g., another person, event, or object) that shares some similarities with the dream image. On another level (see e.g., DA 29), a subjective method interprets the details of a dream as conveying a message about the dreamer's own personality (i.e., the persons, events, and objects in the dream represent aspects of the dreamer). An objective method interprets such details as conveying a message relating to something other than the dreamer's personality (e.g., a future prediction relating to the dream image or to something it symbolizes).

Figure V.2: Four Types of Dream Interpretation

To illustrate how these two distinctions combine together to make four distinct perspectives for interpreting dreams (see Figure V.2), let's take as an example the "camera and tripod" image in my longer sample dream (quoted in Lecture 3). Notice how in each case a different form of wish-fulfillment and/or compensation comes into play. A comprehensive discussion of this dream image might look something like this in my dream diary:

Camera and tripod:

Literal-objective: Associations. I really do own a camera and tripod very similar to (perhaps the same as) the ones that appears in this dream. My father lent the camera to me in 1983, just before Daniel (my first son) was born, and I've never returned it. I enjoy photography very much, but have had very little time to develop this hobby in recent years.

Day residue. These images remind me that I need to buy a new roll of film for my camera, since I forgot to do it yesterday. Also, the dream could be compensating for the fact that my camera equipment is out-of-date: I operate the camera using a remote control, but don't actually have such a device in waking life. Should I be upgrading my equipment?

Literal-subjective: This dream fulfills my long-standing wish to have more time to spend taking pictures. Devoting more attention to this "artistic" side of my personality appears to be the solution to the problems raised in the earlier parts of the dream. For example, the kitchen scene raises the problem of how to "cook" the "turkey" [explained earlier in the Interpretation section as an objective symbol for changing Dr. M's mind on a specific administrative issue]. The dream compensates for my overly confrontative approach to this situation by depicting a more indirect, artistic approach.

Symbolic-subjective: To me cameras are ways of creating images or impressions, either for the technical purpose of preserving accurate memories or else in order to distort reality for an artistic purpose. As such, the camera is a symbol of my persona (since personas are like snapshots of our true self that we show to people in order to make a certain kind of impression [see Lecture 16 for details]). In the dream, the artistic persona is compensating for the overly technical persona I have been adopting in waking life recently.

Tripods are used to hold cameras steady for a timed exposure. This suggests that the change of persona being recommended by the dream may need to be "held steady" while a long-term change takes place. The tripod thus compensates for my conscious desire to find a quick solution, suggesting that this hope may be unrealistic (i.e., a quick solution would be an unstable one).

[Note. Nine months after this dream occurred, I did, in fact, begin work on a film project that provided a partial solution to some of the problems addressed by this dream. I had forgotten about this dream when I decided to participate in that project; but apparently, my unconscious had not forgotten!]

Symbolic-objective: Cameras and tripods are recent inventions, so they do not appear in traditional myths and stories. However, the words are much older. The word "camera" means "arched roof" or "vault" in Latin and Greek. And the word "tripod" means "three-footed". So the archaic connotations of the dream image suggest a large building with a triangular base and a curved ceiling, or possibly a triangular pyramid housing a "vault" in its apex (the way a camera sits on top of a tripod). The number "three" suggests incompleteness, and raises the question as to the identity of the "missing fourth" [see Lecture 21].

You certainly do not need to provide such a comprehensive analysis for each image that appears in all of your dreams. Collective interpretations are likely to be especially difficult. But whenever you come across a dream image that feels particularly significant, try to interpret it in as many of the above ways as possible.

Jung provides a handy rule for deciding whether a given dream figure can be taken literally or merely symbolically (see e.g., DA 9,29-31). If the figure is actively related to your current or recent waking-life experiences, then a meaningful literal interpretation is likely to be evident. That is, if a person you saw yesterday appears in your dream tonight, the dream figure can be regarded on one level as representing that person. If, on the other hand, you have not had active contact with the dream figure for several years (or if you have never met or do not know the person at all), then an exclusively symbolic interpretation is preferable. When I interpreted my longer sample dream in Lecture 12, the fact that I had never met Bill and Hillary Clinton therefore suggested a symbolic interpretation would be most appropriate. Once again, though, be careful not to treat this as a hard and fast rule, so much as a preliminary guideline that must be tested anew with every dream. For as Jung points out (31): "Even where the objective interpretation is advisable, it is well to consider also a subjective possibility." For example (32), "if you dream that your best friend is a black sheep, it means that either you are a black sheep, or the friend is, or there is dirt between you."

Occasionally a dream might have such clear collective implications that it seems to carry a message not only for the dreamer but for an entire city or culture. This is a special type of objective interpretation that applies to what Jung calls "big dreams" (see e.g., CJBW 373). If one of your dreams strikes you as conveying a profound message about world events, or events that will effect everyone in your society, then think of it as a "big dream" and explain its relevance to your culture or society. But keep in mind that dreams can have many layers of meaning, so even a big dream may also have a personal message to convey to the dreamer.

The purpose of amplification, to enlarge our understanding of dream images, can often be thwarted by the dreamer's inability to remember the details of the dream being interpreted. In response to this common problem, Jung encouraged his patients to use a method he called "active imagination" to enlarge their actual perception of dream images. The dreamer is asked to relax his or her mind and body completely and to imagine something from the dream as vividly as possible. Without inventing anything, the dreamer attempts to re-experience the dream while awake. When doing this, new details will often come to light. As Bosnak explains, active imagination is an "art" that can greatly improve our ability to "let the dream figure speak for himself", instead of imposing the prejudices of our waking life onto the people who appear in our dreams (LCD 39,41). If you make use of this method, you can include these new details as part of your dream text if you are certain they genuinely stem from the dream itself. In many cases, however, active imagination ends up being an experiment in fantasy, to see how the dream might have developed (but did not). Such fantasies may give rise to interesting insights; but these should be treated as a supplement to personal associations, and included in the Interpretation section of your dream diary, not in the main text.

The easiest time to allow your imagination to enlarge your perception of a dream is just after you wake up (i.e., before you get out of bed). If you allow your mind to relax and focus your imagination on your dream, many otherwise forgotten details can become clear once again. After an interval of time has elapsed since having the dream, you may find it very difficult to return to a clear imagination of the dream. If so, I suggest you find a friend who can assist you with this. Find a quiet, relaxing place, and tell your friend everything you can remember about your dream. If your friend then has you picture a certain part of the dream in your imagination, and asks specific questions about other details, you may be surprised to find that clear answers sometimes come to mind. Of course, you must carefully resist the temptation to invent such details; the point of active imagination is to amplify the dream by reestablishing contact with its reality, not simply to "fill in the gaps" of your memory with guesswork that might have no basis in your unconscious.

Finally, active imagination can also be applied to other art forms. The most obvious example is drawing a picture of the scene that appears in a dream. As you draw, think of this as an exercise for expanding your awareness of what occurred in the dream, rather than just as a mechanical recording of what your memory has already registered. If you are feeling very creative, you might even choose to experiment with art forms such as sculpture, dance, poetry, etc. Although you may not be able to include some of these in your dream diary, you might find that applying active imagination in such ways will stimulate insights about the meaning of a dream; and these insights, of course, could be a valuable addition to your project.

15. Dream Series and Life Stages

Now that you've been working on your dream diary for about four weeks, you should have recorded enough dream texts to begin to see some connections emerging. Jung emphasizes the importance of this task in DA 127: "In the interpretation of dreams it is always our first duty to link the dream up to the dream before." At several points during these ten weeks (or at least twice: once sometime in the coming week and once again just before completing the project), you should read over all the dreams you have recorded so far, looking for one or more series of dreams that all focus on (or at least refer to) similar themes. A theme might be based on a particular person or object that repeatedly appears, or on a more general similarity, such as dreams expressing some strong emotion or dreams that all relate to a certain aspect of your personal growth. At some point in your dream diary (e.g., in the Table of Contents), give each series a title; then provide a brief summary of all the relevant dreams in the series.

My longer sample dream (Lecture 3) was part of a series of 12 dreams on the theme of leadership. I don't have time here to go into the detail of each dream. Instead, here is a brief summary of the main points in the dreams that occurred in this series (with slightly more detail given for the first dream). Notice how the series reveals a gradual transformation in this aspect of my own personal growth. The terms "persona", "shadow" and "anima", incidentally, refer to archetypes that will be discussed in full next week (see also Figure V.3).

Dream Series II: Leadership

Dream 4 (A Presidential Visit-At a Price) poses the problem of weak leadership, especially in the home. My wish to "make [a] change" in my personality (symbolized by the bank) fails, and is followed by a warning (the parking fine) that a careless attempt to change will be penalized. As a female authority figure, the "meter maid" suggests that the needed change relates to a negative anima complex. Hillary represents the positive anima who is "trapped" by the shadow (Bill) of weak leadership. The setting of §§II-III suggests that home leadership is the main issue. Also, the Chinese word for turkey (fo-gie), is similar to the name of the place I live (Fo-tan). But instead of facing the challenge of how to prevent the "turkey" (home life) from going "dry" (developing too long without a change), I escape to take photos of the scenery. This appears to symbolize a tendency to focus on past memories instead of future possibilities.

Dream 10 (Not Dressed for the President) is a persona dream, reflecting my need to change my social image (once again, at home) before my leadership potential can be realized. I arrive early at a restaurant to meet with another (male) president, but realize I am not properly dressed. In the taxi on the way home (to change clothes) I am worried that this side trip will make me too late.

Dream 15 (Cooperation on the Computer) is a shadow dream, warning me not to be too rational. I am sitting with a Dr. Q (an administrator who has repeatedly refused to engage in rational debates with me). We are working together on a laptop, using a Chinese program to piece together a map of the world.

Dream 16 (Hitler's Bug) is another shadow dream, representing frustration in leadership. I want to buy a VW Bug; but the car has no seats and Hitler (a displacement for Dr. Q, who appeared earlier in the dream) is standing in the driver's seat. The price is too high, so I don't buy it. But I ride in it with a very pretty girl. Later my son drives a VW Campervan down a hill and loses control.

Dream 17 (Interview with Dr. K: Anger over Corrections) is based on day residue, but also compensates for my conscious tendency to be too self-consistent. Dr. K (an administrator with whom I had met two days earlier) and I both get angry while he is interviewing me, because I keep changing my answers.

Dream 19 (Broken Lift & a Language Lesson) is a wise old man dream, highlighting the need for wise use of language in leadership. After riding a broken lift, I lead a seminar with an older person. Peter Strawson (a leading analytic philosopher, now retired) is attending. The topic is language.

Dream 20 (Dr. Q's "Voice") is a shadow dream, compensating for my overly vocal approach to certain leadership problems. In a department meeting, Dr. Q says: "A voice is given to the whole congregation." I claim that each individual should have a voice; but nobody else pays attention to my pleas.

Dream 21 (Dr. Q Supervises My Doctorate) is based on day residue, but also compensates for my inflated self-image with respect to Dr. Q I am a doctoral student, considering changing supervisors from Dr. H to Dr. Q.

Dream 25 ("You're Not a Leader") is an anima dream, compensating for my inflated self-image at church, but also pointing toward the source of leadership potential in my anima. Ms. I (leader of a church group) says to me: "You're not a leader." I protest that I do, in fact, have strong leadership qualities.

Dream 26 ("She's Not the Leader") is another anima dream, showing that a process of integration has begun. A man registering me for a conference in a church tells me that Dorothy (my wife) will not be allowed to be the speaker.

Dream 27 (Sideboard Cut) is a shadow dream, warning me of the danger of being unintentionally inconsiderate. A group of students visit my home. Mr. C (a student leader) cuts some pepperoni on the sideboard, making deep knife-marks. Dorothy is upset about his lack of consideration.

Dream 28 (The Church Needs Bigger Windows) symbolizes the progress that has been made thus far, and makes a recommendation for how to move to the next higher stage. At first I am helping a former female student teach a secondary school class. Then I'm walking outside a church hall, commenting on how dark it must be inside, with such long narrow windows and thick curtains. The first part is evidence that my leadership qualities are beginning to be guided by my anima; the second may be compensating for my conscious tendency to believe total openness is the most desirable leadership style.

This example shows how the first dream in a given series (sometimes the first one in the dream diary itself) will often set out a problem or a situation that ends up being the major (or a frequently repeated) topic of the whole series, while the last one often depicts the progress made so far, bringing the dreamer's personal growth to a new level of maturity.

Just as the dreams you are able to remember and record in a short course such as this can reveal some clear patterns of transformation that are developing in your psyche, so also your entire life can be regarded as one long series of transformations that (ideally) all work together to promote personal growth. This is the main idea behind Jung's theory of "individuation". Whereas Freud focused most of his attention on the stages of life that occur in childhood, Jung's most significant contributions come in his study of the stages we pass through during adulthood, mainly through interacting with our archetypes. As we shall see, these two theories of life-stages are to a large extent complementary.

Jung makes a sharp distinction between what he called the "morning of life" and the "evening of life". Each period operates according to its own proper "law": during the former period (Jung says up to about age 36 [e.g., CJBW 374]) we should be expanding and differentiating ourselves more and more from the world; the latter period (the second half of life) should then become a time of contraction and integration, as we gradually unify the various opposites that divide the psyche from itself (see e.g., DA 85-86,95-96). Notice the striking resemblance Jung's distinction has to Freud's distinction between the sex drive (the drive that promotes our expansion and the propagation of life) and the death wish (the drive that promotes our contraction and the concluding of human life). Thus Jung's focus on how the afternoon of life can be meaningful is essentially a series of proposed remedies to the psychological obstacles Freud found to be strewn across our path during life's morning.

"Individuation" refers to this whole process of expansion and contraction, of setting up oppositions and then overcoming them. It just is the slow process of personal growth that lasts throughout one person's life. Jung's theory of the archetypes of the collective unconscious is the key to his theory of how individuation operates during the afternoon of life. (This is why the archetypes play such an important role in my comments on the dream series given above.) Figure V.3 (adapted from JC 27) shows how the typical order for confronting the archetypes corresponds directly (though in reverse) to the order of Freud's account of childhood development. Next week's lectures will focus on the details of the three most important collective symbols, explaining how each is a response to

Figure V.3: The Stages of Individuation

its childhood counterpart. Keep in mind, though, that this map only describes the typical pattern of psychic development, just as an anatomy book would describe a human being's typical physical development; in reality, we struggle over and over again with each archetype, and each of us must fill in the details of that struggle in our own way, by connecting our own personal symbols with these archetypal symbols.

Jung believes one of the biggest dangers in life is to mix up the proper order of these two periods: "The afternoon of life is just as full of meaning as the morning; only, its meaning and purpose are different" (PW 39). Being too self-enclosed, too concerned with "contraction", during our youth will prevent us from realizing the full potential of our personal growth. Being too "carefree", too concerned with "expansion", during old age will, by contrast, lead to a meaningless life. For it is the contraction of our fully expanded psyche that reveals our life's meaning. As Jung puts it (37):

A human being would certainly not grow to be seventy or eighty years old if this longevity had no meaning ... The afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be merely a pitiful appendage to life's morning. The significance of the morning undoubtedly lies in the development of the individual, our entrenchment in the outer world, the propagation of our kind, and the care of our children.... But when this purpose has been attained ... shall the earning of money, the extension of conquests, and the expansion of life go steadily on beyond the bounds of reason and sense? Whoever carries over into the afternoon the law of the morning ... must pay for it with damage to his soul, just as surely as a growing youth who tries to carry over his childish egoism into adult life must pay for the mistake with social failure.

With this in mind, Jung might have encouraged young people not to worry too much about discovering their archetypes. A 20-year-old should still be experimenting with the psychic "expansion" associated with trying on new roles; distracting young people with an over-emphasis on finding meaning might bog them down with an overly self-reflective disposition. To this I would reply by saying that it is never too early to start becoming aware of our archetypes. When we begin to look at the archetypes in detail next week, keep in mind that these collective symbols will require years of observation and dialogue before you really come to know their true character in depth. Along these lines, Chetwynd says facing the shadow is one of the struggles typically faced in youth, so that by mid-life a person is ready to begin integrating the anima/us (DS 25). So don't feel you have to discover everything there is to know about yourself in just twelve weeks! As long as you recognize that your archetypes are still in the process of developing, you can benefit by reflecting upon them-regardless of your age.

One of the most important insights to be drawn from Jung's theory of the stages of life is that anyone who is properly progressing along the path of individuation will inevitably experience a major psychological transition in mid-life. Although Jung says "the onset of middle age" typically happens between ages 36 and 40 (CJBW 373), I have increased this range in Figure V.3 to include ages 25-45. This is to indicate that, although the "zenith" may typically occur "at about age thirty-six" (374), the issues leading up to and following upon the actual turning-point are likely to cover a much longer period of time. Thanks to popular books such as Gail Sheehy's Passages, which recounts numerous stories about people who experienced a so-called "mid-life crisis" (often involving radical changes in life-style, profession, etc.-factors usually associated with what Jung calls the "persona" [see Lecture 16]), this aspect of Jung's theory is now taken for granted by many Westerners.

At any point during the process of individuation, a complex may arise. Jung defines a complex as an interrelated set of personal associations that share a similar (strong) "feeling tone". Freud's "Oedipus complex" (see Lecture 8) is no doubt the most famous example, though the term was coined by Jung. One of the reasons for interpreting dreams is to help us recognize, understand, and (if necessary) change such emotional patterns. The process of free association is, to a large extent, controlled by the dreamer's complexes; so Freud's focus on this method has the advantage of directing the therapist's attention to the dreamer's complexes. But in so doing, it can also lead away from other meanings a dream might have, including important hints as to how a given complex might need to be transformed.

In Man and His Symbols Jung says an archetype is a "social complex" (MHS 68). In other words, each archetype is a constellation of strong feelings that relate to certain types of personal associations. Next week we shall devote all of our attention to the exploration of several of the most basic archetypes human beings are bound to experience. But in the meantime, I'd like to conclude this week's lectures by providing you with a systematic summary of the logical relationships between the different aspects of dream interpretation we have examined in this course. The twelve aspects listed in Figure V.4 should not be regarded as setting out an absolute order that must be followed, step-by-step in your dream interpretation; instead, you should read the map as depicting an organic whole, like a tree with four main branches. The Roman numerals are specified only to clarify the logical priority of certain aspects. (This way of using "+", "-" and "x" signs to denote logical relations is explained in TP, Chs.11-12.)

Figure V.4: 12 Aspects of Dream Interpretation

We began this week by looking at two little stones, hearing a small part of their story, and comparing them to the two aspects of the unconscious. Let's conclude by looking at a dream that depicts the power of a stone to change seemingly permanent aspects of human life that go far beyond the dreamer. The Bible tells a story (Dan. 2:29-45) of how Daniel miraculously remembered King Nebuchadnezzar's dream of a statue made of gold, silver, bronze, iron, and clay: the statue was smashed to pieces by a "rock cut out of a mountain, but not by human hands" (2:34,44). "The wind swept [the pieces of the statue] away without leaving a trace. But the rock that struck the statue became a huge mountain and filled the whole earth" (2:35). Daniel interprets this dream as a "big dream", symbolically depicting how the kingdoms of the earth will some day be destroyed by God and replaced by an everlasting theocratic (God-ruled) kingdom (2:44-45; cf. BT 39,42n).

Nebuchadnezzar's famous dream can also be interpreted as a very appropriate symbol of the nature and function of the unconscious. The "rock" that smashes the "statue" is reminiscent of the stone David used to kill Goliath (see 1 Sam. 17:40,49). Although it may have been a boulder rather than just a stone, the fact that this rock was "cut out of a mountain" makes it a perfect symbol of the personal unconscious-the part of the psyche that was "cut" from the "mountain" of the collective unconscious. With this metaphor in mind, the psychological meaning of this classical dream is that the power of the unconscious cannot be ignored. If the "statue" of our psyche is constructed merely out of a set of conscious characteristics, then the personal unconscious will break in and smash us with its "psychologist's stone"-i.e., with the rock that is our true story (cf. MDR 138). Such an experience, like all personal growth, is bound to be painful. But the destruction in this dream is balanced by a message of hope: in place of the broken and disintegrated pieces of our personality will arise a "mountain" that overcomes all oppositions and integrates our personality into a higher unity. Over the next two weeks we shall see how the archetypes function in just this way to bring about the wholeness of the Self.

QUESTIONS/TOPICS FOR GROUP DISCUSSION

1. Do you believe the collective unconscious actually connects people together, or is it just a myth Jung invented?

2. Can all twelve of the steps given in Figure V.4 be used to interpret every dream?

3. Think of a fragment from one of your dreams, and have a friend assist you in using active imagination to perceive the details more clearly.

4. Select a theme that has appeared in several of your dreams so far, and share any development or pattern you can see operating.