The labyrinth

I first read Dr Grotstein's paper (Grotstein 1997a) shortly before attending a meeting at the Institute of Psycho-Analysis in London, entitled, ‘The Oedipus Myth Before Sophocles’ [The discussants were Ettore Cinzano, Professor of Greek Literature of the University of Venice, and Dr Michael Parsons, psychoanalyst. Andrea Sabbadini, psychoanalyst, was in the chair]. Reading it then and subsequently, together with the meeting itself, have led me to consider both the meaning of particular myths-Oedipus, Theseus, and the labyrinth itself-as well as the whole nature of mythology, within the context of depth psychology.

The patient's dream, as recounted in Grotstein's paper, did not immediately make me think of a labyrinth. There were no twists, turns or divisions in the pathway, no ease of entry and difficulty of egress, neither any immediate similarity of the toothed, eel-like, creature with the bull-man Minotaur, nor the cave as a man-made prison for that beast. There are also, in the myth, no other creatures within the Cretan maze, such as trout with their eggs, as there were in the dream. I accept that the various paths, walkways, the plateau and the canyon onto which the cave opened as well as the meanderings do present a rather uncertain and labyrinthine image, as also do the dreamer's associations more importantly.

The dream does indeed have clear similarities to a hero's tale, of course, as well as to the ‘night-sea journey’ which such a man may undertake, while Theseus is a good example of such a person. All this is familiar country for someone who, like myself, was educated in a classical post-Jungian style at Zürich.

Taking the dream as Grotstein understands it, however, it is easily possible, in following the twists and turns of his telling, to recognize the pre-oedipal phases as described by Melanie Klein, where mother contains within her body, in the child's fantasy, not only the breast with its milk, but father's penis and all the other babies they have made