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It is no more unnatural for a woman to be afraid of rape than for a man to be afraid of castration, or of any other injury that threatens the integrity of the body. Only when the fear of rape is excessive and morbid are we justified in assuming that it is conditioned by traumatic events.
Usually, such traumata are discovered in layers upon layers, going back as far as the primal scene in the parental bedroom which was inadvertently observed and misconstrued. Sometimes, however, sexual traumata well up from still greater depth and are of a more biological than personal nature.
A beautiful girl, twice unhappily married and about to make a hit-or-miss attempt at happiness for the third time, was discussing with a friend her mother's hysterectomy, which was necessitated by a tumor. That night she had a terrible dream:
“I was with my mother at a party in the country. I had to go to the bathroom very badly. I went up a long, narrow staircase and found myself in a peculiar room. It was round and had two small high windows, at one of which I saw a small dummy man, with a moustache, pointing a gun at the other window. The toilet was very white, but it had no seat. That did not bother me as I always stand over the toilet in a strange bathroom. I passed water very slowly and painfully. All of a sudden, I looked down and saw a white mass looking like discharge on the floor. It had come from me.
“Then I saw a tank full of water and floating in it was a tumor, as big as a coconut. The blood vessels stood out vividly. Suddenly, the tumor was sucked down to the bottom of the tank and I felt that something had been pulled out of me. It was very painful and frightening. I heard a voice: Let it come out; it is all over now, it is a tumor.”