Theory of Attraction, According to Freud (Fiction)
27.8.15
This is a piece of writing I did for a uni theory subject. It's a combined creative/research piece about psychoanalytic criticism. I haven't made any changes to spelling mistakes, inconsistencies etc since submitting the piece (and there were many such mistakes/inconsistencies according to the tutor's comments), so please keep that in mind as you read.
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| Psychoanalysis [Image by David, Creative Commons] |
I’m adrift on a sea of sound, surrounded
by other students, yet at the same time, alone. Even after a few weeks into
semester only strangers sit beside me. I dig my elbows into the table to keep myself
steady against the waves. I keep my head down and pretend I belong, that I
understand, hoping that the tutor won’t call on me. Nothing he says registers
in my brain as he drones on about Foucault this and Jameson that.
The
class break offers a brief respite from the onslaught of theory and the
students disperse. A male voice from my right saying, “Hi” interrupts me from
my brain rest. I stop myself from looking up. He can’t mean me, and I’d be
embarrassing myself by looking up and confirming this. But I feel a poke in my
shoulder and turn.
“Is
that your topic for the essay?” he asks.
I
look down to where he’s pointing, my exercise book open to a page devoid of any
notes other than just two dot points of pink text in the top margin: the
questions I had thought up for my class presentation.
- With the Hamlet example of Hamlet’s situation
reflecting that of Shakespeare’s, could Freud have come to the same
conclusion without benefit of prior knowledge about Shakespeare?
- If the author’s own mind is reflected in the writing, do we have no choice but to give ourselves away through our writing?
“I’m
Luke,” he says and holds out his right hand.
I
have no choice then but to lift my right hand from the page. After a quick wipe
on my jeans leg to rub off the sweat, I put my hand in Luke’s.
“What
about you?” he asks as he shakes my hand and I realise that I’ve committed the
faux pas of failing to introduce myself.
“Um,
s-sorry. I’m Anna,” I stammer. Flustered, I bring my right hand back on my lap
to join my left hand in a prayer, for I don’t know what.
“About
those questions you had written down, what’s your opinion on them?”
“I
don’t know,” I answer. And I really don’t know. They were just questions I had
thought of because I had to have questions. I really have no opinion either way
but I don’t want him to know that so I continue, “I guess that’s why I’m asking
that question, although I suppose the fact that Freud is so famous and that we
have to learn about him in class probably says a lot for his abilities in that
area.”
“That’s
your final opinion?”
I
nod, hesitantly.
“I
don’t think Freud could have thought that about Shakespeare without prior
knowledge.”
“Well
you’re entitled to your opinion,” I respond, as if I had one of my own.
Luke
thinks for a moment and says with a mischievous smile, “What do you say, we
embark on an experiment?”
“What
do you mean?”
“I
try to prove that fictional writing doesn’t always reflect the author and you
try to do the opposite.”
I
frown. “How?”
“Let’s
see, since I don’t have any story written down right now…” He drums his fingers
on the table, in deep thought. Then he rips out a page from his notes and hands
it to me. “Here. This is my dream which I wrote down today for class. You
psychoanalyse that as practice and from next week I’ll bring some creative
pieces for you to analyse. Hmm?”
It
takes me a moment to realise that the ‘hmm’ is his request for my answer. Then
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s his hazel eyes gazing expectantly
into my own. Maybe it’s the fact that he was the first person to actually talk
to me. Maybe it’s really because if I agreed, that would mean I would have
someone to talk to in class every week and on top of that, I would get to learn
about him.
This
is exactly the kind of thing I usually hate, creating extra work for myself,
but I take up the challenge. I was thinking of writing my essay on Freud
anyway. I reply, “Okay, why not?”
In
the five remaining minutes of the break, Luke asks some questions about me and
I answer them. He doesn’t offer any information about himself though, nor does
he provide any answers to my questions. According to him, it would be cheating
if I knew too much about him even before I psychoanalysed his writing.
When
Luke waves at me and says, “See you next week,” as he leaves after class, I’m
left giddy with excitement. If someone had told me that a day would come when I
couldn’t wait to get home and begin researching theory of all things, I would
have pronounced them mad, but that’s how I feel now. And when I get home,
that’s exactly what I do.
* * *
On
a gloomy day I’m walking through University Square. Someone appears from behind
the old drinking fountain, which doesn’t work anymore. It’s my grandfather. We
keep walking and once we’re only a few steps away from each other, he snaps in
half at the waist. In slow motion, his legs fall lifelessly to the ground but
my father appears suddenly in front of me and catches the torso before it falls.
I just stand there frozen. My father cries and this surprises me.
It’s break time. I’m Freud and Luke is my
patient. We sit at the student lounge facing each other, me nervously
dog-earing my notes and him with his arms crossed. The low hum of conversation
around us camouflages our own voices and offers more privacy than we would ever
find in our quiet classroom.
“Sit
back and relax,” I say to Luke. It’s really what I want to tell myself.
He
nods at me to begin my analysis.
I
try not to look at him and instead just read straight off my notes, as fast as
I can. I don’t know if I’m doing this right and I just want to get it over
with. “I tried to follow the steps taken by Freud in his ‘Interpretation of
Dreams’,[1]
analysing sentence by sentence. With the weather being gloomy, that’s your own
mood, maybe about the other things expressed in the dream. Walking through
University Square means you were either walking to the main buildings or
walking towards the Law School. You bring up the fountain. That’s closer to the
Law School so I think that was where you were heading. Maybe you studied law
before, considered studying law before, or had a class held in the building. Maybe
you have a family member who’s a lawyer. Some kind of connection to law or the
building itself.
“The
fountain. I haven’t seen it specifically mentioned by Freud but I think because
of the shape and function it could by a symbol for male, umm, genitals and
therefore a metaphor for masculinity, romance or the like. Dreams are like
poetry in that they employ similes, metaphors and images.[2]
The fountain doesn’t work anymore so maybe there’s some uncertainty there. It
could be a sign of psychical impotence but don’t worry, it’s very widespread.[3]
Quite normal in fact.
“Next,
your grandfather. I thought, why would he be here at university? He has no
reason to be here in reality. So this must be a metaphor as well. Maybe he
somehow interferes with your studies: pressures you to study harder or always
asks you how your studies are going when you meet.
“He
snaps in half. Freud himself dreams of a patient named Irma who has a problem
in her shoulder and he realises that this points to his own rheumatism.[4]
This made me think that maybe you suffer from back pain or some kind of spinal
condition. The fact that this happens to your grandfather perhaps points to a
genetic factor in the condition as well.
“You
stand there frozen. Inhibition of movement in dreams represents conflict of
will.[5]
There could be several things you could be conflicted about here. Could be your
studies, feelings towards your grandfather, your father.
“Your
father suddenly appears and cries and you’re surprised by your father’s
actions. It seems like his relationship with his father isn’t so good at the
moment. The fact that you’re dreaming about them though might be kind of a
mirroring effect, meaning that your relationship with your own father might be
somewhat strained as well.
“Then
finally, looking at your dream as a whole, dreams are fulfilments of repressed wishes.[6] It’s
possible that you resent your grandfather for pressuring you about your studies
and maybe whatever spinal condition you have if you have one. So the dream is a
fulfilment of your repressed (but unrealistic of course) wish for him to die as
punishment and you want him to suffer in the same way you’re suffering. Another
factor in the dream could be that you want your father to be on better terms
with your grandfather, and you also regret that you’re on bad terms with your
father. The end.” I finish breathlessly and look up at Luke’s inscrutable face.
I can’t tell whether he fully understood what I said, which was just a big
jumble of words really. I’m not even sure myself if I made sense.
“You’re
spot on with the law and the spinal condition,” he says. “I considered studying
law and I have scoliosis.”
“Really?”
I ask back as a smile forms on my face. I’ve surprised myself.
He
frowns. “Yeah. But I don’t agree with the rest of your analysis, especially the
impotence bit.”
My
smile drops off and I look back at him nervously. Did I offend him? Was it a
mistake to begin this game?
He
notices my reaction and chuckles. “No need to be so tense. You gave me
something to think about. Thanks. Can I have your notes so I can read them at
home?”
“Sure,
of course.” I let out a silent sigh of relief as I rip out my notes from my
book.
“And
this is for you. My next piece of writing.” He holds out a piece of paper and
we swap papers.
We walk
back to class together, Luke seemingly lost in thought.
As I silently
trail behind Luke, and wonder. Was my analysis really wrong? Could it possibly
be that his strong denial was a case of negation? Of him wanting to keep his
unconscious thoughts repressed.[7] Should
I tell this to Luke himself then? Maybe I should ask him about it. But no. It’s
not as if I’m really a psychoanalyst and neither is he one of the nervous
patients Freud treated. The scoliosis and law connection are enough to prove
that the analysis works. No need to go deeper than that.
The only thing
I need to worry about is going home and analysing his next piece of writing.
And I can’t wait.
* * *
To
be, is to be perceived, said a boy.
You will cease to be unless you clean your room, said his mother.
I won’t need to clean my room if I cease to be right now, said the boy.
With that he ran off into the distance
until he could neither be seen nor heard.
He reflexively answered his phone when it rang,
only to hear his mother say,
I can hear you, I can perceive you,
you better come back now or else.
You will cease to be unless you clean your room, said his mother.
I won’t need to clean my room if I cease to be right now, said the boy.
With that he ran off into the distance
until he could neither be seen nor heard.
He reflexively answered his phone when it rang,
only to hear his mother say,
I can hear you, I can perceive you,
you better come back now or else.
The next week we’re sitting at the same spot in the
student lounge again. We have a little chitchat while I get my notes ready,
eager to begin. I can’t believe how much I’m looking forward to the theory
class nowadays, just because of this ten-minute breaks.
“I
liked your poem. Short and whimsical. It was hard to analyse though because it
was so short. I think this would be one case where knowing a little about the
author would be quite useful. I’ve done the analysis but at the point it’s hard
to tell which parts would be relevant.” I don’t know how I should bring it up. I’m
babbling and I can’t stop myself.
“Anna,
can you get to the point?”
“Sorry.”
I smile sheepishly. “I just have one question I want to ask. I don’t want to be
rude or anything, but ... has your … mother passed away by any chance?” I
search Luke’s face for any trace of emotion but it’s as inscrutable as he’s
been the last couple of weeks. Strange. He seemed so nice and easy-going when we
first met. What’s changed?
“Actually,
yes. Yes, she has. It was a long time ago though. I don’t really think about
it.” He shrugs it off as if it doesn’t bother him.
“Well,
I’ll get on with my analysis then. I used analysed the poem in a similar way to
how I analysed the dream last time, thinking of it as wish fulfilment. I’ll
explain why. The pleasure principle is the idea that people strive for
pleasure, that’s natural.[8] But
reality gets in the way, what gives you pleasure might not be what’s
acceptable, that’s the reality principle.[9] The
events which arouse pleasure, also arouse unpleasure at the same time. This
conflict between the two principles leads to repression, which is a desire to
escape from unpleasure.[10] Such
things as dreams, fantasying, day-dreaming and art, including creative writing
of course, reconcile the two principles by providing an outlet of these desires
which don’t need to undergo reality testing.[11] So
it happens to be that creative writing, like dreams, is also a fulfilment of a
wish.[12]
“What
I did a little differently here was that I focused on the story as a whole
rather than at sentence level. I thought the meanings on the micro level
wouldn’t be as significant as they would be for dreams. Doesn’t mean there
wouldn’t be any meaning at that level of course, just that I found my method
easier.
“Anyway,
on with the analysis. The first thing I asked myself was, what is the story? A
boy tries to get out of cleaning his room but is caught out by his mother. What
kind of wish fulfilment would this be then? Do you want to get out of cleaning
your room? Do you want to clean your room? Is the protagonist being a little
boy (and I assume it’s a little boy) important? That’s why I asked about your
mother. Maybe you want to be that boy and want a mother too, even one who makes
you clean your room. More importantly, you want your mother back and the last
line of the poem is what you want to tell her.
“But
it can’t be that simple, can it? Freud said, “repressed infantile sexual wishes
provide the most frequent and strongest motive-forces for the construction of
dreams”[13] and
I expect the same applies to creative writing. I mean, we can’t have a discussion
about Freudian psychoanalysis without mentioning the Oedipus complex.
“How someone
enters and leaves Oedipus complex is significant.[14] In
boys the complex is eventually destroyed due to painful disappointments from
the relationship with the mother, [15] and
the threat of castration[16]
which comes mostly from women. [17] For you, since your mother passed away when
you were young, the disappointments and the threat weren’t there for you. It
could be possible that the Oedipus complex hasn’t been destroyed for you but
merely repressed, or even if it has been destroyed, it wasn’t done so in the
normal way. So this might be why you wrote about this boy and his mother.
“Men who
continue to be affected by Oedipus complex after puberty tend to be attracted
to women who are similar to their mothers or sisters. But because of the barrier
against incest,[18]
which would be the reality principle, having any kind of sexual relationship
with such women is seen to be wrong. So these men fall into relationships with
exactly the opposite kind. Something you should keep in mind, maybe.
“Another point
of interest. I mentioned masculinity before with the fountain in your dream and
I’m sorry to bring that up again but it fits nicely here as well. Freud says
that the dissolution of the Oedipus complex consolidates the masculinity in a
boy’s character.[19]
So it could be that this consolidation hasn’t quite happened with you,
therefore the uncertainty in your masculinity… Maybe… What do you think?”
“I
did mention that I’m not in any way uncertain about my masculinity,” Luke
waggles his eyebrows as he says the m word, “but it’s an interesting theory.
Can I see your notes?”
He
near-snatches the paper from my hand and walks off to class, not waiting for
me. I have to hurry and gather my things in order to catch up. Is he angry? But
then, he notices me and smiles.
* * *
This
story is set in a fantasy world similar to England around the time of the
regency era. The Fletcher is a boy who begins attending a boarding school. His
roommate Avery doesn’t socialise much with his peers and leaves his room some
nights while the main character is sleeping. Fletcher finds Avery very
suspicious and mysterious and decides to find out more about him. It turns out
that Avery is from an old royal family and the Fletcher becomes his ally in a
quest to restore Avery’s family to power. Here’s an excerpt:
After supper I didn’t tarry. Instead I
hurried back to my room in order to arrive before Avery. After the couple of
weeks we had spent together I knew that he was hiding something and I just had
to find out for myself what it was. Once back in my room, I made sure the
corridors were empty.
With the satisfying click of the lock, I
got to work. I checked Avery’s suitcase, under his bed, under his mattress,
inside his wardrobe, behind his wardrobe, his underwear drawer, under the
drawers, but I found nothing unusual. I was sure that I’d looked absolutely
everywhere inside the room, so wherever could Avery’s secrets be hidden? Think,
Fletcher, think. Was it merely that Avery hadn’t left any tangible traces of
his secrets? I scanned the room, trying to find all the dark shadows that I’d
overlooked. Then something hit me. How could I have missed it?
I rushed towards the window and opened the
sashes. A strong gust of winter wind slapped my cheeks and ears. I stuck my
head out and looked around, up to the lintel, down on the ledge. I couldn’t see
anything, but I just knew it had to be here, whatever it was. I reached down beneath the window ledge and blindly felt
about, the rough stone grazing my fingers. Then my fingernails clicked on
something hard. With some effort I removed the thing from the ledge (it was
quite heavy and seemed to have been held there with some magic help), which
turned out to be a book. I freed the casebound book from its hard sleeve and
eagerly opened its mouth to delve into its insides. A diary. Of course.
The diary entries were quite normal,
nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing stood out. But the entries for the days
that I had found Avery missing from our room, they were different. They didn’t
reveal why he had been missing, but a single word at the bottom of the pages
set them apart. Obinence. A word now obsolete, a word used among worthy men. He
was one of the noble kindred, of royal blood.
“Fletcher
enters a room and locks the door When interpreting dreams, rooms represent
women,[20] and
entrances and exits represent openings of the body[21] so the
two. The two together and the locking of the door could mean the desire to have
a long-term relationship, possibly sexual, with a woman. The search inside the
room could mean that you want to learn about women, how they think, their
secrets, things like that.
“Avery
is from an old royal family and Fletcher helps Avery restore his family to
power. This would require overthrowing the current king, or whoever the ruler
is, in the story. These persons of authority such as kings and emperors can be
symbols for parents,[22]
therefore it means that you want to be free from the authority of your own
parents. This could literally mean wanting to be free from the pressure you
feel from your father, or it can be more figurative in that you want to finally
overcome and destroy your Oedipus complex for good. Personally I think the word
obinence you used looks like
obedience and symbolises you being weight down by the need to obey your elders.
That fits with the previous point as well.
“When looking
at the story as a whole, you want to be independent. You yearn for adventure or
some change in your life, possibly by meeting a girl. Fletcher is a bystander
or an ally to the more interesting Avery, so you welcome any kind of adventure,
even if it’s through someone else. And … that’s it.”
“That’s all?”
Luke asks incredulously. “Shorter than the other times. I like this week’s
analysis the most though.”
“Sorry’ it’s so
short. This week’s story has so many things going on, it was actually hard to
pick out what was relevant. There could be a lot that I’ve missed.”
“Don’t worry.
Leaves us plenty of time to have a chat before going back to class.”
So in the short
five minutes we have left together, we chat. About the class mostly – talking
about Luke still counts as cheating. Strangely, I enjoy the conversation,
loaded as it is with theory. Quite different to that conversation we had when
we decided to begin the game. I can respond to his questions, I actually have
opinions. I’ve changed somehow. And what about Luke? Has he changed?
Luke does seem
a little different now – more intense, somehow. Is the change evidence of his
transference[23]
onto me, the same as Freud’s own patients? How similar would these
psychoanalysing sessions be to Freud’s own? Is transference actually a
possibility? And would it be positive or negative transference? In the form of
passionate love or embittered hatred? I don’t know if I would want transference
to happen even if it were possible. After all, although common, it’s not a
desirable outcome in psychoanalytic treatments, being a resistance mechanism in
order to maintain repression. But as I keep telling myself, I’m not Freud and
Luke is not my patient. Is it just wishful thinking on my part? Am I the one
developing counter-transference?
Just
as Luke takes one step into the theory classroom, I tug at his sleeve. He turns
around to face me, his expression questioning.
“Maybe
we can have lunch together after class?” I ask, in an unintentional whisper.
“Maybe after the
last week’s class. No cheating, remember?”
I nod and look
down, trying not to show my disappointment. He can’t talk about himself and if
we have a meal together he’ll probably end up saying things without meaning to.
I do remember. What I don’t remember though is that I’m still holding on to
Luke’s sleeve. Luke pulls away and continues walking to his desk (which happens
to be across the room from mine this week, as I was late for class). I’m left
behind, holding on to nothing but air.
We never get to
have that lunch, because Luke doesn’t come to class the next week. Or the week
after that. I never see him again.
* * *
I can’t stop thinking about Luke. It’s not that I’m
infatuated. Not at all. It’s just that my essay is based on the research I did
for the game. I guess I have him to thank for that, for getting me interested.
And the process of rereading and organising my notes comforts me a bit. Now
that I’m detached from the subject and can consider things completely neutrally
and unemotionally, I can see that the idea of going out with him is not even
worth chewing over. What did I learn from his stories?
He’s still a
boy who hasn’t gotten over his infantile complexes. Is he even capable of really
loving someone? “Where they love they do not desire and where they desire they
cannot love”[24]
would probably describe Luke perfectly. He is exactly the kind of person who
would prefer women who are attached or of bad repute.[25]
I
finish my essay exactly one hour before it is due and I am completely refreshed,
even with my lack of sleep. I feel confident, ready to take on the world. This
was better than a therapy session. And with the click of the submit button on
Turnitin I am ready to put he who should
not be named out of my mind forever.
But
things don’t turn out the way I want or the way I expect them to. Things never
do. I have to name him again, because Luke comes back to haunt me like a
vengeful ghost. What wrong did I ever do him?
I’m just
enjoying my holiday and feeling both nervous and hopeful about the upcoming
grade release date when I receive a letter in the mail as unexpected as
lightening on a fine sunny day. A letter from university disciplinary committee,
calling me out for plagiarism/collusion. Immediately, I know Luke is the cause
of this. I think back to all those psychoanalysing sessions. He never forgot to
ask for me for my notes. Now I know why.
Why would he do
this to me? Then I remember the last story he left behind. The one I hadn’t had
a chance to talk to him about because he stopped coming to class. The one
relegated to the bottom of the bottommost darkest drawer of my desk. Would it
provide some clue?
This
is a story I abandoned because I spent too long on the intro so it was too long
to be a short story:
In an empty classroom, silhouetted against
the window by the rising sun, a boy stands at one of his classmates’ desks. His
right hand is a mere centimetre away from a wallet that has been accidentally
left behind. It forms a menacing shadow across the desk and onto the floor, like
the claws of a predator hunting for its prey. He remains in that position for a
while, his eyes nervously darting left and right, considering his next course
of action. Then he suddenly twitches, as if he felt someone watching him. He
flexes his fingers, pulls back his hand and returns to his own desk. Just as
his thighs make contact with his chair, the door to the classroom opens.
When did the boy come to realise that he
was invisible? It must have been the first day of term two, the day the
students found a hole in the confiscated snacks box, seemingly chewed through
by a mouse… [omitted]
- Students realise there is a hole in the box made by a mouse
- Students try to catch the mouse and meanwhile the boy tests his
newfound skill of invisibility by playing tricks on classmates and
stealing their things then returning them right under their noses
- Students catch the mouse using a mouse trap, keep it in a cage or
something like that and play around with the mouse (maybe doing cruel
things to it)
- The boy steals a classmate’s wallet but before he can return it
without being noticed the wallet owner reports the loss and a search of
the room and students’ belongings happens
- The boy is afraid he will be caught but the wallet has disappeared
from its hiding place
- The wallet owner later approaches the boy and shows him the wallet,
the search was a trap for the boy and the wallet owner (who is also the
narrator) has been aware of the boy’s doings from the beginning
- The narrator asks the boy to do something for her
The boy in the story is Luke. He believes himself
invincible and enjoys playing games on other people. He thinks he is in charge
but he’s wrong. He feels used and manipulated, by women especially, and wants
to turn this around. The same way the positions of the boy as the hunter and
the girl as the hunter come to be reversed in the story. He wants to be the
girl in the story, the real predator, the one who controls the game.
Through the idea of
doubling, the mouse in the story is a reflection of the boy, and therefore Luke
as well. The mouse tears through the snack box, which symbolises a woman’s uterus.[26]
An example of the magnitude of Luke’s animosity towards women perhaps?
But this is only a story. They
are repressed desires based on Luke’s long-standing Oedipus complex, not
necessarily his actual intentions. So what brought this on? Did he feel
humiliated by my analysis but just did not let on? [27]
Is he my Dora, the patient who deserted Freud as revenge?[28]
A case of negative transference, his way of resistance?[29]
Did my analysis force him to face his most secret, most hated, repressed
desires? Was this the inevitable end to our game?
* * *
I stand in front of the closed door to the committee
meeting. The sea is calm and silent, with gentle waves. I’m no longer drifting,
but anchored by my confidence. I’m no longer the hunted, but the hunter, armed
with my notes on Freudian psychoanalysis. I open the door, to begin a new game.
[1] 129, “Interpretation of Dreams.” The Freud Reader
[2] 157, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[3] 397, “On the Universal Tendency to Debasement in the Sphere of Love
(Contribution to the Psychology of Love II).” The Freud Reader
[4] 136, “Interpretation of Dreams.” The Freud Reader
[5] 159, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[6] 140, “Interpretation of Dreams.” The Freud Reader
[7] 667, “Negation.” The Freud
Reader
[8] 302, “Formulations on the Two Principles of Mental Functioning.” The Freud Reader
[9] 303, “Formulations on the Two Principles of Mental Functioning.” The Freud Reader
[10] 302, “Formulations on the Two Principles of Mental Functioning.” The Freud Reader
[11] 303-5, “Formulations on the Two Principles of Mental Functioning.” The Freud Reader
[12] 443, “Creative Writers and Day-Dreaming.” The Freud Reader
[13] 170, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[14] 677, “Some Psychical Consequences of the Anatomical Distinction
Between the Sexes.” The Freud Reader
[15] 661, “The Dissolution of the Oedipus Complex.” The Freud Reader
[16] 663, “The Dissolution of the Oedipus Complex.” The Freud Reader
[17] 662, “The Dissolution of the Oedipus Complex.” The Freud Reader
[18] 290, “Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality.” The Freud Reader
[19] 640, “The Ego and the Id.” The
Freud Reader
[20] 170, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[21] 170, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[22] 170, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[23] 26, “An Autobiographical Study.” The Freud Reader
[24] 397, “On the Universal Tendency to Debasement in the Sphere of Love
(Contribution to the Psychology of Love II).” The Freud Reader
[25] 388, “A Special Type of Choice of Object Made by Men (Contributions
to the Psychology of Love I).” The Freud
Reader
[26] 170, “On Dreams.” The Freud
Reader
[27] 382, “Observations on Transference-Love.” The Freud Reader
[28] 236, “Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria (‘Dora’).” The Freud Reader
[29] 26, “An Autobiographical Study.” The Freud Reader
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