The first person in the dream-thoughts behind the ego was my friend who had been so scandalously treated. "I now attempted to clear up the chronological relation." My friend’s book deals with the chronological relations of life, and, amongst other things, correlates Goethe’s duration of life with a number of days in many ways important to biology.  The ego is, however, represented as a general paralytic ("I am not certain what year we are actually in").  The dream exhibits my friend as behaving like a general paralytic, and thus riots in absurdity.  But the dream thoughts run ironically.  “Of course he is a madman, a fool, and you are the genius who understands all about it.  But shouldn’t it be the other way round?” This inversion obviously took place in the dream when Goethe attacked the young man, which is absurd, whilst any one, however young, can to-day easily attack the great Goethe.

I am prepared to maintain that no dream is inspired by other than egoistic emotions.  The ego in the dream does not, indeed, represent only my friend, but stands for myself also.  I identify myself with him because the fate of his discovery appears to me typical of the acceptance of my own.  If I were to publish my own theory, which gives sexuality predominance in the aetiology of psychoneurotic disorders (see the allusion to the eighteen-year-old patient—­"Nature, Nature!"), the same criticism would be leveled at me, and it would even now meet with the same contempt.

When I follow out the dream thoughts closely, I ever find only scorn and contempt as correlated with the dream’s absurdity.  It is well known that the discovery of a cracked sheep’s skull on the Lido in Venice gave Goethe the hint for the so-called vertebral theory of the skull.  My friend plumes himself on having as a student raised a hubbub for the resignation of an aged professor who had done good work (including some in this very subject of comparative anatomy), but who, on account of decrepitude, had become quite incapable of teaching.  The agitation my friend inspired was so successful because in the German Universities an age limit is not demanded for academic work. Age is no protection against folly. In the hospital here I had for years the honor to serve under a chief who, long fossilized, was for decades notoriously feebleminded, and was yet permitted to continue in his responsible office.  A trait, after the manner of the find in the Lido, forces itself upon me here.  It was to this man that some youthful colleagues in the hospital adapted the then popular slang of that day:  “No Goethe has written that,” “No Schiller composed that,” etc.