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Psychoanalysis was Freud's dream—in every sense of the word. A validation of his creative powers and a worldly achievement he considered on a par with the conquests of military leaders such as Alexander the Great, Cromwell, or Napoleon. A dreamboat of an idea. But it was initially something he literally dreamed, night after night, and transcribed by day in convoluted structures of imagery and word play—a product of his sleeping, unconscious mind and, as such, resistant to full elucidation. Unavoidably, Freud's own interpretations seem incomplete, leading one to speculate about lines of association that he either fails to recognize or deliberately avoids; the richer the dream, the more opportunity it offers for further analysis.
Such is the case with the dream of Irma's injection, which Freud referred to as his “specimen dream,” the centerpiece of his new theory of interpretation. Freud's insistence that the dream represents his wish to exonerate himself from blame for Irma's physical complaints fails to satisfy most contemporary readers, who make use of Freud's own hermeneutic methods to arrive at a variety of different conclusions. The line of interpretation I wish to pursue builds on the work of Max Schur (1966), Erik Erikson (1954), and Jim Swan (1974), all of whom emphasize Freud's latent identification with his patient—an association that Freud himself assiduously avoids, preferring instead to focus on his role as conscientious physician.1
Freud's insistence that the dream represents his wish not to be held responsible for Irma's condition reveals his preoccupation with issues of mastery and competence—both “masculine” or phallic concerns. Aspects of the dream that associate him with Irma herself, however, emphasize vulnerability and helplessness, traits Freud consistently regarded as “feminine.”