t to mean a wish-fulfilment dream; in it she got free from her
neurosis.

The following night she dreamt that she was being driven in a motor car
by a swanky chauffeur. They came to the bottom of a hill, and the car
stopped, and she got out and walked. Her first association was: "The
chauffeur had a big green coat on, one just like the coat you wear."

"So I was the chauffeur?" I asked.

She brightened at once.

"I see it!" she cried. "The car is the analysis; you are driving me
away from my old life!"

"Excellent!" I said, "but don't forget that the car stopped at the
bottom of the hill. What does the word hill give you?"

"Something difficult to climb. I hated climbing it and thought it a
shame that the motor didn't take me up."

"Well?"

"I've got to climb to get better, haven't I?"

"That's right," I said. "I told you the other night that no analyst
should give advice, and I refused when you asked me for it. In your
unconscious you realise that the chauffeur is not going to take you up
the hill; in other words you've got to do most of the work."

Freud holds that there is a censor standing between the conscious and
the unconscious. Primitive wishes seek to come from the unconscious,
but the censor holds up his hand. "No," he says, "that's too
disgusting; the conscious mind couldn't stand that; it would be
shocked. You must disguise yourself in harmless form!" And so the
infantile sex wish is changed into a harmless dog or cycle. But if
this is the case why should my little girl dream of me as a chauffeur?
There was nothing disgusting about me, nothing that her conscious mind
could not face.

I prefer Jung's theory. He says that we dream in symbols because
symbolism is the oldest language in the world, and, as the unconscious
is primitive it uses this language. We all dream of shocking things,
and if the endopsychic censor were really on duty he would never allow
these disgusting dreams to get through.

If I dream that my father is dead the Freudians declare that I either
wish or, in the past, have wished unconsciously for my father's death.
But surely so alarming a wish would be changed into a harmless form if
there were a censor. One night I dreamt that an acquaintance, Murray,
was dead. The first association to Murray was: "He's a lazy sort of
chap." I think that all he stood for was laziness, and he was merely
my own laziness symbolised. The dream was a hint to me to be up and
do