Psychoanalytic Social Work

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Linking Metaphor and Dreams in Clinical Practice

Brian M. Rasmussen PhD, RSW

To cite this article: Brian M. Rasmussen PhD, RSW (2002) Linking Metaphor and Dreams in
Clinical Practice, Psychoanalytic Social Work, 9:2, 71-87, DOI: 10.1300/J032v09n02_08

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 Linking Metaphor
and Dreams in Clinical Practice
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Brian M. Rasmussen

ABSTRACT. This paper is an attempt to weave together selected as-

pects from the theoretical domains of metaphor and dreams. With re-
spect to dreams, the paper draws on theorists who argue for the
continuity hypothesis of dreaming. Of particular interest is the symbolic
value that may be placed on the manifest dream. Establishing the signifi-
cance of the manifest dream is an important step toward linking its imag-
ery with our daytime figurative language in a meaningful way. Further,
the notion that dreams symbolically capture our self-state lends support
to the idea that there may be thematic correspondence between our
dreams and metaphors. This may be most apparent when we compare
dominant metaphors with recurring dreams. [Article copies available for a
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© 2002 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved.]

KEYWORDS. Metaphor, dreams, psychotherapy, manifest dreams, re-

curring dreams

INTRODUCTION

A growing literature on metaphor in psychotherapy and the vast literature

on dreams have largely remained separate. This paper is an attempt to connect

Brian M. Rasmussen, PhD, RSW, is a member of the Faculty in the School of Social
Work at Okanagan University College, 1000 K.L.O. Road, Kelowna, British Colum-
bia, Canada V1Y 4X8.
Psychoanalytic Social Work, Vol. 9(2) 2002
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© 2002 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. 71
 72 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

the two by weaving together selected aspects from both theoretical domains.
With respect to dreams, the paper draws on theorists who argue for the conti-
nuity hypothesis of dreaming (Hill, 1996). That is to say that dreams represent
our daytime concerns, anxieties, conflicts, and sense of self. Of particular in-
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terest in this paper is the symbolic value that may be placed on the manifest
dream. Establishing the significance of the manifest dream is an important step
toward linking its imagery with our daytime figurative language in a meaning-
ful way. Further, the notion that dreams symbolically capture our “self state”
lends support to the idea that there may be thematic correspondence between
our dreams and metaphors. This may be most apparent when we compare
dominant metaphors with recurring dreams. In both cases, it is argued that an
underlying metaphorical thought process mediates our experience. Also, in the
case of dreams and metaphors, bodily awareness, and the significance of our
sense of self are thought to be important vehicles of symbolic expression.
Theorizing the link between metaphor and dreams has significant implica-
tions for the clinical situation. Establishing thematic correspondence between
the use of dominate metaphors and the manifest imagery of dreams, particu-
larly recurring dreams, provides a valuable blueprint for the therapist to build
therapeutic interventions. Further, it holds promise in contributing to a coher-
ent and comprehensive understanding of the client’s conflicts and concerns.
Case examples are presented to highlight the clinical application of these
views.

DREAMS

It is now a century since Freud published The Interpretation of Dreams

(1900), work that he later considered amongst his greatest achievements. As is
well-known, Freud proposed that dreams served the dual purpose of preserv-
ing sleep and providing an outlet for unacceptable wishes. These infantile
wishes, which are repressed during our waking hours, find expression through
disguised and distorted means at night. In this way a compromise is formed be-
tween the need for sleep and the gratification of these repressed wishes. Freud
described how the distortions of these wishes occurred through the mecha-
nisms of condensation, displacement, secondary elaboration, dramatization,
and symbolism. Accordingly, Freud argued that here was an important distinc-
tion between the manifest and latent content of the dream. It was the latent con-
tent that provided the royal road to the unconscious conflicts and the
unresolved infantile wishes. Working from an archeological metaphor,
whereby the mind is analyzed layer by layer, the examination of the latent con-
 Brian M. Rasmussen 73

tent would reveal the unconscious elements through free association to the
dream and the day residue.
However, it is clear that Freud did not alter his theory of dreams, written
within the topographical model, in line with his later structural theory
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(Brenner, 1955). Consistent with the structural theory, Arlow and Brenner
(1964) developed the idea that every manifest dream must be viewed as the
consequence of the interaction between the id, ego, and superego. In particu-
lar, they thought that the dream is a compromise between the conflicting agen-
cies of the mind. They argued that the structural theory offered a superior view
of dream functioning to the topographical model. Arlow and Brenner believed
that structural theory better explained (a) the dreamer’s experience of believ-
ing the dream is real while dreaming it, (b) punishment dreams, (c) censorship
and the need for secondary revision, and (d) selective and variable regression
in mental functioning in dreams.
While Freud was cautious about attributing a wider adaptive function to
dreams, Flanders (1993), French (1954) and French and Fromm (1964) ad-
vanced the idea that dreams are an attempt to discover solutions to interper-
sonal problems or “focal conflicts.” French (1954) wrote that, “we study the
dream work not as a tangled network of chains of association but as a reaction
to the total situation created by the dreamer’s conflict” (p. 11). They consid-
ered dream work to involve practical, empathic thinking, rather than verbal
thinking, and they theorized that the thought processes that underlie dreaming
have great similarity to rational waking behavior (French & Fromm, 1964).
Further, they thought that the cognitive structure of the dream resembles the
cognitive patterns that guide behavior (French, 1954). French and Fromm ex-
plain:

We use the term “cognitive structure” to designate the way in which the
meanings of a dream fit together and the way that they fit into the context
of the dreamer’s situation in real life. We think of the cognitive structure
of a dream as a constellation of related problems. In this constellation,
there is usually one problem on which deeper problems converge and
from which more superficial problems radiate. This was the dreamer’s
focal problem at the moment of dreaming. Every focal conflict is a reac-
tion to some event or emotional situation of the preceding day which
served as a “precipitating stimulus.” As a check on our whole reconstruc-
tion, it is most important to find the dreamer’s focal conflict and the pre-
cipitating stimulus which activated it. (p. 206)

In many ways, French and Fromm’s (1964) theorizing foreshadowed newer

models of dream formation. Models that emerged from self-psychology, ob-
ject relations, and information processing tend to highlight mastery, integration,
 74 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

and the synthetic function of dreams (Fosshage, 1983). For instance,

Fosshage’s (1983) view is that “the superordinate function of dreams is the de-
velopment, maintenance (regulation), and, when necessary, restoration of psy-
chic processes, structure and organization” (p. 262). Similarly, Stolorow and
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Atwood (1992) emphasized a phenomenological perspective. They took as a

starting point the motivational principle that “the need to maintain the organi-
zation of experience is a central motive in the patterning of human action”
(p. 219). Hence, dream symbolization is thought to maintain a coherent orga-
nization of experience, particularly through concrete symbols. Further, they
argue that the aim of disguise in dreams is less prominent when the need to re-
store or sustain the self is the prime motivator.
This perspective is consistent with Kohut’s (1977) view of “self-state
dreams.” Dreams of this nature reveal imagery that expresses tensions associ-
ated with traumatic states, particularly feelings that threaten the self. The
meanings of these dreams are not found in the free associations to the manifest
imagery but rather can be deduced from the manifest content itself.
Sanville (1991) provides an example of what she refers to as a self-state dream:

Emma, a young college woman, reports that she has been having some
“ups and downs” about her weight. For a time she had adhered to her diet
and exercise regime and had lost “eight pounds of fat and three pounds of
muscle,” but now she has put back on five of those pounds. She tells a
dream: I am in a school corridor, talking with another girl. A man comes
along and asks me to come up with him on the elevator, and I understand
that the purpose is to eat. I decline, but he seizes the other girl by the hand
and drags her into the elevator. I cling to the corner of the corridor, but it
is as though a magnet is pulling me. I am terribly frightened and wake
with my heart pounding. (p. 169)

Sanville (1991) suggested that her central conflict, while not being accepted
consciously, is nonetheless, apparent in an undisguised form. Of additional in-
terest in this brief vignette is the way the client’s metaphorical report of having
“ups and downs” is juxtaposed to a dream that is situated in an elevator.
Atwood and Stolorow (1984) suggest that when examining self-state
dreams which evidence concrete symbols, the distinction between the mani-
fest and latent content is less important. What is important is the way in which
the dream functions to “restore or sustain the structural integrity and stability
of a subjective world menaced with disintegration” (p. 220). Rycroft (1979)
arrives at similar conclusions about dreams and the function and interpretation
of dreams. He views dreaming as “imaginative activity” and suggests the
dream is to be understood metaphorically. Consequently, dream interpretation
involves “discovering what subject or theme the concrete imagery of dreams
metaphorically applies” (p. 71).
 Brian M. Rasmussen 75

MANIFEST CONTENT

Psychoanalytic views on the role of the manifest dream have produced con-
siderable debate since The Interpretation of Dreams was first published. Freud
was clearly disparaging of the value of the manifest dream and the impossibil-
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ity of interpreting a dream without the dreamer’s associations. In the New In-
troductory Lectures, Freud advised that after listening to the patient’s dream
we should “concern ourselves as little as possible with what we have heard,
with the manifest dream” (p. 10). This was a view that Freud never revised
(Spanjaard, 1993). Throughout his theorizing, Freud viewed the manifest
dream as a mere “conglomeration,” a “façade,” and a phenomena on par with
neurotic symptoms. However, this was not the case for Jung or Adler, both of
whom viewed the manifest dream as a valuable piece of communication in and
of itself. Jung viewed dreams as a creative expression of the unconscious and
focused on the manifest dream for what it revealed rather than concealed (Hill,
1996).
Others have since challenged Freud’s stance toward the manifest content of
dreams. Spanjaard (1969) summarized his thinking in this way: “My thesis is
that the manifest dream usually has a subjectively conflictual aspect, and that
this aspect offers us the opportunity to evaluate the most superficial layer of
the conflict and thus arrive at a construction of the potentially most useful in-
terpretation” (p. 158). Spanjaard observed how analysts would often interpret
a dream from only hearing the manifest content when they knew the patient
well. Similarly, Greenberg and Pearlman (1993) argued that the manifest
dream “provided a vivid subjective view of the patient’s current adaptive
tasks–an indication of what is active in the analysis” (p. 192). In their view, the
language of the dream can be seen as metaphorical and different but not infe-
rior to waking language. As noted above, Kohut’s (1977) view of self-state
dreams puts considerable value on the manifest content to reveal significant
aspects of the individual’s current emotional state.
Fosshage (1983) also took aim at the distinction between the manifest and
latent content in dreams, offering a revised psychoanalytic perspective. He ar-
gued that dreams served an organizing and synthetic function and found “no
theoretical necessity to posit the ubiquitous operation of disguise and transfor-
mation of latent into manifest content” (p. 257). REM research findings that
have shown emotionally stimulating experiences are directly integrated into
the manifest content of dreams bolsters support for this perspective. Dreams
are also thought to maintain, and when necessary, restore psychic processes.
Similarly, Stolorow and Atwood (1992) wrote that, “the thematic structure of
the dream’s manifest content can provide access to the prereflectively uncon-
scious principles organizing the dreamer’s subjective world . . . in addition to
 76 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

the discrete elements of a manifest dream, the distinctive thematic configura-

tions of self and other that structure the dream narrative may also serve as use-
ful points of departure for associative elaboration” (p. 276).
Hill (1996) contends that contemporary psychoanalytic theory, supported
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by empirical findings, holds that “manifest content is a direct representation of

waking life” (p. 35). Consistent with this perspective is the idea that dreams re-
flect unresolved emotional conflicts and are an attempt at problem solving. For
example, Cartwright, Lloyd, Knight, and Trenholme (1984) found that divorc-
ing women dreamed about divorce whereas nondivorcing individuals did not.
Zayas (1988) reported on the content analysis of dreams from ten first-time ex-
pectant fathers. He found that dreams showed specific references to preg-
nancy, childbirth and fatherhood, when compared to controls. Similarly, in
treatment, clinicians have observed that changes in the manifest content of
dreams often reflect change and progress over the course of therapy
(Glucksman, 1988). Finally, the importance of the manifest content of dreams
was observed by Wharff (1993) who noted that the client’s dreams near the
end of intensive psychoanalytic therapy were specifically related to the emo-
tional turmoil of ending treatment.

RECURRENT DREAMS

Perhaps the best evidence that the manifest dream reflects our current wak-
ing concerns is found in our recurring dreams. Assuming that many people go
through life struggling to resolve long-standing conflicts and emotional dilem-
mas, it is not surprising to find that a large percent of the population experience
one or more recurring dreams on a fairly frequent basis. In most cases a recur-
ring dream, which is distinguished by its complete repetition, involves disturb-
ing content, such as being attacked or being chased, and is centered around a
coherent theme (Tanck, 1992). Many of these recurring dreams begin in child-
hood. In one study of recurring dreams it was found that sixty-four percent of
female and fifty-five percent of males experience recurring dreams (Cart-
wright & Romanek, 1978). Another investigation of recurrent, past-recurrent,
and non-recurrent dreamers found that recurrent dreamers scored lower on
measures of psychological well-being (Brown & Donderi, 1986). Past-recur-
rent dreamers, that is those individuals who once experienced a recurring
dream but who have since stopped dreaming this dream, scored high on psy-
chological well-being and reported having more positive dreams. Findings
from this study were thought to support the idea that there is a relationship be-
tween dreaming and psychological adaptation. The current thinking, as sum-
marized by Domhoff (1993), is that recurrent dreams represent ongoing and
 Brian M. Rasmussen 77

perhaps unacknowledged conflicts and concerns in an individual’s life. Conse-

quently, until the person resolves these difficulties, the dream persists. As the
underlying psychological problems become resolved, the recurring dream
ceases to occur.
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Interestingly, Cavenar and Sullivan (1978) reported on a few cases where

the individual sought treatment because of a recurring dream. In one case, a
30-year-old man with a history of psychiatric hospitalizations following his
mother’s death when he was 22, had been asymptomatic for eight years. How-
ever, he sought help because of the following recurring dream: “I am in a hurri-
cane or tropical storm. The wind is blowing hard; it is raining. I realize I have
to find shelter, and I run into a nearby house. In the house is a rocking chair in
which my mother rocked me when I was a child. I feel safe, but then realize
that the house is made of glass. I think I would be safer in the storm, and run
back into the hurricane” (p. 379). Within a day of hospitalization he experi-
enced an overt psychosis.
Traumatic dreams are similar to recurrent dreams in their dysphoric affect
but differ in the sense that the former often involve the exact repetition of the
trauma. Domhoff (1993) speculated that recurrent dreams are watered-down
versions of nightmares and are more metaphoric in content. As Freud and oth-
ers have observed, traumatic dreams are actually failed dreams. In other
words, they fail to represent symbolically a disturbing experience and fail to
add new meaning to the event.

METAPHOR

In the past few decades, metaphor has attained increasing prominence as a

clinical variable and organizing construct. While the most common idea re-
garding metaphor is that it is a type of figurative expression where something
is described as analogous to something else, and consequently viewed as a po-
etic device, Lakoff and Johnson (1980) argue that everything we think and do
is based in metaphor. Through linguistic evidence, they demonstrate the ways
in which conceptual metaphors structure our perceptual processes, operating
outside our awareness. Conceptual metaphors are more fundamental struc-
tures of thought that give rise to metaphorical expressions. For instance, it is
interesting to me the ways in which sexual attraction is expressed as a danger-
ous, if not lethal, experience. If we examine the common metaphoric expres-
sions, “she is dressed to kill,” “he is drop-dead gorgeous,” “I love him to
death,” “she’s a knock-out,” “he’s a lady-killer,” they support an underlying
conceptual metaphor, “SEXUAL ATTRACTION IS LETHAL.” Each meta-
phoric expression suggests a positive quality while simultaneously, at an
 78 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

unconscious level, warns of a darker side. Taken together, they express a cul-
tural belief that romantic relationships are potentially dangerous, and conse-
quently structure our perceptions, thoughts and behavior. Not surprisingly,
concepts like love and other emotionally based experiences are frequently
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comprehended through metaphor.

Lakoff and Johnson (1980) further asserted that metaphor has the power to
create new realities rather than simply giving us ways to conceptualize pre-ex-
isting reality. Metaphoric entailments help to make our experience coherent
and may be “the only way to highlight and coherently organize exactly those
aspects of our experience” (p. 156). Further, they argue that metaphor plays a
central role in self-understanding and in the process of self-discovery in psy-
chotherapy.
In the field of psychotherapy, there is a burgeoning body of literature that
expounds upon the role of metaphor in clinical practice. (See Siegelman, 1990,
for an excellent overview of the role of metaphor in psychotherapy.) For the
purposes of this paper, I will focus on the role of metaphor in expressing our
body awareness and pre-verbal experience. Metaphor, in addition to dreams,
provides a means of representing unarticulated, felt experience. As Rycroft
(1979) argued, “metaphor, both in waking and imaginative activity, depends
on the existence of a store or network of images, at the core of which are those
of our body, its activities and sensations, all of which can, unless impeded by
inhibition, become metaphors one for another . . .” (p. 73).
Siegelman (1990) emphasized the relationship between metaphor and our
earliest experiences, especially our bodily awareness, suggesting that begin-
ning with our first breath, and perhaps in utero, our kinesthetic awareness be-
comes the most “real” thing about us. Consequently, the matrix of bodily
experiences defines our relationship to the world, in effect, where we begin
and end. Siegelman not only asserted that what is real is what is felt, with and
through the body, but also that true insight in psychotherapy is experienced in
and through the body. These bodily experiences form the basis of many so-
phisticated metaphoric extensions. The parallels between the use of bodily ex-
periences in dreams to metaphorically capture significant experiences must
also be noted. For example, anger is conceptually linked to heat: when anger is
physiologically experienced through an increased blood pressure, rapid heart
rate, and a flushness, we then speak of anger as akin to a hot fluid in a con-
tainer; that is, one’s anger “wells up,” “our blood boils,” and we “blow off
steam.” In this way, metaphor is thought to become a vehicle for apprehending
and expressing strong affect that otherwise does not have a “preconceptual
structure of its own.” Similarly, Wilson and Weinstein (1992b) theorized that
it is the affective which “drives the metaphoric” and, therefore, the hidden af-
 Brian M. Rasmussen 79

fective memory is in the word or phrase much like the manifest images of a
dream.
From a developmental perspective, Stern (1985) provides some insight into
this innate capacity. One of his basic assumptions holds that “senses of self”
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exist prior to the development of language and self-awareness through what

are termed “invariant patterns of awareness” which work to organize subjec-
tive experience. Stern suggests that infants experience the world through vari-
ous sensory modalities (sight, sound, touch, smell and taste) and that the sense
of emergent self involves, at least in part, the forming of relations between iso-
lated sensory experiences. For example, 3-week-old infants were able to match
the level of light intensity with levels of sound intensity and 6-week-old babies
were able to transfer information between visual and auditory modes. Further-
more, humans experience what Stern terms “vitality affects” which are better
captured by dynamic, kinetic terms, such as surging, fading away, fleeting, ex-
plosive, crescendo, decrescendo, bursting, drawn out, and so on (p. 54). Vital-
ity affects are distinguished from the traditional view of categorical affects,
such as anger, sadness, and joy. Infants experience the vitality affects both
with the self and in the behavior of others. In this way, shape, intensity, and
time can also be perceived amodally. Stern writes, “Therapists are so familiar
with this phenomenon that it is taken for granted as a way to communicate feel-
ings about important perceptions. When a patient says, ‘I was so anxious and
uptight about how she would greet me, but as soon as she spoke it was like the
sun came out–I melted,’ we understand directly. How could most metaphors
work without an underlying capacity for the transposition of amodal informa-
tion?” (1985, p. 155).

LINKING METAPHOR AND DREAMS

Linking our daytime use of metaphors and our nighttime dreams rests on the
assumption that there is a coherent unity of mind, whether asleep or awake.
Further, it rests on the assumption that the underlying structures of thought,
both asleep and awake, are fundamentally metaphorically based. This is not to
say that the language of dreams is the same as the language of everyday dis-
course. However, as Lakoff (1993) claims, not only do we employ our every-
day system of metaphor to interpret or understand a dream, but also we use it to
create dreams. Lakoff writes, “The metaphor system plays a generative role in
dreaming-mediating between the meaning of the dream to the dreamer and
what is seen, heard, and otherwise experienced dynamically in the act of
dreaming. Given a meaning to be expressed, the metaphor system provides a
means of expressing it concretely–in ways that can be seen and heard. That is,
 80 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

the metaphor system, which is in place for waking thought and expression, is
also available during sleep, and provides a natural mechanism for relating con-
crete images to abstract meanings” (p. 86). I will offer the following personal
example.
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At the end of a day-long meeting I reflected on my participation. I was criti-

cal and disappointed with myself. I was quite inarticulate and on a few key
points, missed the mark entirely. In a few instances, I found that what I had in-
tended to say was not the message that was received by others. In one situation,
I was embarrassed by one of my statements, knowing that it was off the mark
as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That night I had the following
dream: I am playing football. In the first sequence I am the quarterback. How-
ever, when I go to throw the ball I find that it is deflated, and consequently falls
short of the intended receiver. In the next sequence I am the receiver. I am run-
ning out to catch what appears to be a perfectly thrown ball. Unfortunately, I
timed my jump too early and failed to catch the ball.
Upon reflection, the apparent self-state dream seems to visually and
kinesically represent and reinforce a felt experience of not connecting with
others during that day. The concrete symbolization (Atwood & Stolorow,
1984) employed by the dream heightened the affective experience of the day.
The dream is comprehensible when amodal information is transposed from the
kinesthetic awareness to perceptual awareness. It further makes sense when
the metaphoric elements of the dream fall in line with the metaphoric language
that described the daytime experience. That language included phrases like
“not connecting,” “being off the mark,” and “having poor timing.” Further, the
dream did have “deeper” meaning gained through some of my associations to
aspects of the dream. For example, I recalled that during the previous day I had
been rummaging about the garage looking for something when I came across
my football. I briefly held it and thought of a friend whom I had not seen for
some time and who lives a great distance away. Evidently, my wish for con-
nection resonated with the latent content of the dream.
Drawing on the phenomenological perspective, however, States (1988) also
points out an important way in which dream metaphors differ from poetic met-
aphors. Poetic metaphors are thought to have three components: two signifiers
of the comparison and a tenor, or condition, that both terms hold in common.
For example, “love is a drug” is comprehensible if one supposes that being “in-
toxicated” (the tenor) is held in common with both experiences. However,
States suggests that dream images do not have three parts but rather “the tenor
has collapsed into the vehicle and is lost” (p. 134). The tenor can be “found”
upon reflection or with the help of a therapist, but that was not the mode in
which the dream was experienced. That is, only during waking moments can
we be aware that something is a metaphor. Upon waking from my football
 Brian M. Rasmussen 81

dream, my first impulse was to be disappointed with myself for having missed
the catch, for that is simply how the dream was experienced. The dream was
not experienced as a metaphor. From this perspective, dreams are literal meta-
phors. To discover the tenor in the dream is to examine recent life experience
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to understand in what ways dropping a football is like failing to connect in a

meeting, or other potentially metaphorical-based meanings. Similarly, Rycoft
(1979) wrote that: “metaphor in waking speech adds to or defines more pre-
cisely and vividly a meaning already and consciously intended; imagery in
dreaming lacks as yet the meaning that will turn it into metaphor. It is, as it
were, a thought that has yet to acquire the author who will give it metaphorical
meaning” (p. 71).
States (1988) also approach the issue from a literary perspective, noting the
similarities between the so-called “master tropes” and Freud’s theory of dream
process. That is, in literature and ordinary language, we express our selves
with metaphors (describing one thing in terms of another, e.g., my life is a cir-
cus), we use metonymy (substituting words for the names of things, e.g., “the
White House offered no comment”), we employ synecdoche (using expres-
sions where part of something is meant to represent the whole or vice versa,
e.g., “the hired hands” = workers) and we speak with irony (using words to ex-
press something contrary to the intended message, e.g., “my future is so bright
I have to wear shades”). In comparison, Freud’s dream work, whereby unac-
ceptable wishes are transformed into acceptable manifest content, is achieved
by condensation (where a number of latent thoughts are captured by a fusion of
dream elements), displacement (one image takes the place of another), second-
ary elaboration (in the recall of the dream events and images are revised to dis-
guise the objectionable meaning), dramatization (ideas, images are exagger-
ated), and symbolism (where an image represents something else). In noting
the parallels between the master tropes and Freud’s dream work, States writes
that “. . . we are coming about as close to the origins of dream formation as we
are likely to get, and it is suggestive that one of our more vigorous projects re-
mains the translation of Freud’s theory into tropological terms” (p. 7). For in-
stance, he suggests that it can be shown that metaphor = displacement;
synecdoche and metonymy = condensation.

CASE EXAMPLE 1

This example is taken from qualitative research that explored both the client
and therapist’s use of metaphor in an actual psychotherapy session (Rasmus-
sen & Angus, 1996; 1997). In an interview that followed the therapy session,
the client was asked about her experience of certain metaphors, both
 82 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

client-and-therapist-generated. As part of the semi-structured interviews, the

client was also asked about any recurring dreams. In this case, Mary (not her
real name) offered some fascinating reflections. She reported the following re-
curring dream: “The one is that kind of a bridge thing, the falling motif, cave at
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the edge of this really high mountain. There is water below and I am really
scared to fall off of that, but I keep falling and I keep climbing back up.” When
asked about themes and the recent focus of her therapy, she spoke of having
previously idealized her family and the impact of viewing them in a different
light. In her own words, she reflected: “In defending, I don’t know, I have that
problem of cutting them out because that is my foundation, taking that away,
well I am getting some really deep thoughts here now. Taking that away, takes
away your foundation. You could crumble and I want to say this, I think of fall,
maybe that is my fear of falling also. That bridge thing I mentioned, yes, that
might have something to do with that I suppose.” Mary was then prompted by
the researcher to expand on this connection. She commented, “ I don’t know if
making a connection doesn’t always make it go away, but I avoid bridges. I
can’t walk over bridges very easily without being conscious that I am walking
over a bridge, you know, and I know maybe it isn’t, but I have noticed that I
have said the word fall. What I was going to say if you take the foundation out,
it leaves you in the air and that is where the fall word clicked in and then the
bridges.”
In this case, the client was able to make a connection between her current
themes in therapy as captured in metaphoric language (“foundation,” “crum-
ble,” “falling”), and her symptom of avoiding bridges. The correspondence
with the manifest imagery of her recurring dream of falling off a high moun-
tain is also apparent. It is not known whether the therapist in this case, con-
sciously incorporated the symbolic aspects of these particular metaphors, or
sought out the client’s recurring metaphor. However, I suspect that most
psychodynamically inclined therapists would have little difficulty making
these symbolic connections when provided with such data. In fact, it is likely
that this sort of connecting happens quite regularly for therapists that attend to
the symbolic aspects of treatment.

CASE EXAMPLE 2

This case example highlights the ways in which metaphor and dreams are
linked. This therapy was published verbatim by James Mann (1973) in the
book Time Limited Psychotherapy. The case example was chosen for several
reasons: first, both therapist and patient make extensive use of metaphor
throughout the therapy; secondly, the patient reports a single dream in the
 Brian M. Rasmussen 83

ninth session; and thirdly, the case is a matter of public record and the reader
can examine the case and draw one’s own conclusions. The case example is
drawn from a twelve-session therapy with a 39-year-old married woman,
whom I will call Clara. She has six children. There was no previous history of
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psychiatric help or psychotherapy. Clara’s main complaint was that she was
“always afraid something was going to happen.” She experienced nightly epi-
sodes of waking from sleep with “hot and cold sweats.” She felt that “her head
was going to split” or that she might have a heart attack. She began to restrict
her outside activities, first reducing her church going because of claustropho-
bia, and later avoiding movie theaters. At the time of the consultation it was
felt that she was suffering from phobic symptoms. The symptoms were theo-
rized to function as “ego defenses operating against dangerous instinctual
drives in such a way as to externalize into an outer danger what is uncon-
sciously felt as an inner danger” (p. 89). However, rather than explore deeply
unconscious material, a therapeutic strategy was planned to “present a central
issue to the patient which she can understand, consciously, as pertinent to her
life, but which is still clearly related to the repressed conflicts and which is re-
current over time and, therefore, of both genetic and adaptive significance”
(p. 89). In this example, I will first highlight what appears to be the central
metaphors used by the therapeutic dyad and then review the dream as reported
in the ninth session.
In the first session Clara attempts to describe her nervous symptoms by stat-
ing that “the only way I can describe how I feel inside is my head is as if I had
seen an awful accident” (p. 95). Also, in this first session she exclaims that she
is “tied to her children.” This metaphor is repeated several times by the thera-
pist and is extended to being “tied to her house.” In the second session Clara
introduced a metaphor that served to organize much of the therapy. Referring
to her anxiety symptoms she stated, “if only I could conquer that–you
know–jumpy feelings.” The metaphor of being conquered was repeated many
times over by both therapist and patient and led to the case being titled “The
Conquered Woman.” In the fourth session, Clara evoked new imagery in her
efforts to describe her internal struggle when she stated that “it feels like you
are drowning and you can’t save yourself” (p. 123). Once again the therapist
follows the client’s lead and incorporates the metaphor of “a drowning per-
son” into his interventions. In the sixth session Clara introduces new, yet the-
matically similar, metaphors into the therapy. After a very difficult week,
Clara complains that “everything was going down the drain” (p. 136) and later
in the session states that “the floor just fell through this week” (p. 142). Once
again, another session is replete with therapist’s and patient’s use of the meta-
phor “to conquer.”
 84 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

In the ninth session, Clara reports a dream at the beginning of the session. It
is the only dream reported in this therapy. She later confirms that it is a recur-
ring dream. The dream: “I woke up perspiring and my heart was pounding. I
could see my children falling in a pit. They were getting a drink out of a
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bubbler, and the ground just sunk. I looked down and they were in water. I
could see one on the bottom. My brother happened to be there, and he jumped
in and saved her. Then I woke up and was perspiring” (p. 155).

DISCUSSION

The thematic correspondence between the metaphors and analogies used by

Clara and her recurrent dream is striking. The imagery evoked by her meta-
phors of the “floor falling through,” “like a drowning person,” and “going
down the drain,” seem to foreshadow the manifest imagery of the dream. Both
symbolic modes give expression to her felt experience of being overwhelmed
and perhaps the wish to be rescued. Recognition of her earlier metaphors,
some of which were recurring, potentially assists both the therapist and client
in grasping the meaning of this recurring dream. The dream, which is sugges-
tive of a self-state dream, further gives expression to her conflicted internal
state and interpersonal world.
From a phenomenological perspective it is interesting to note that Clara ex-
perienced the dream as a real event, as in fact, we all do. She reports: “I remem-
ber that I was trying to realize that it was a dream, and I was waking up. You sit
on the edge of the bed and you say, “Well, is it true or isn’t it?” And all of a sud-
den you are awake. Before I used to wake up my husband, and this would go on
for hours . . .” (p. 157). Consequently, Clara had yet to discover the metaphor
in the dream. It seems to me that for clients like Clara, who experience their
dreams not as symbolic manifestations of their daily trials and tribulations, but
rather as emotionally painful events in and of themselves, the necessary inter-
vention, prior to the exploration and interpretation of the dream material, is to
empathically validate the emotionally traumatic experience. This seems par-
ticularly important for clients who are not psychologically sophisticated, who
view dreams as bizarre experiences, or who only occasionally bring a dream to
therapy.

Implications for Practice

Clinically, I recommend that therapists ask clients in the assessment phase

of their work whether they have recurring dreams. As noted earlier, a large per-
centage of the population does, and it would also seem likely that an even
 Brian M. Rasmussen 85

larger percentage of those seeking help would as well. Even therapeutic work
that does not focus on the interpretation of dreams can benefit from the sym-
bolic meaning generated by a recurring dream. Actually, much of what I have
to say in this paper is applicable to work with individuals where dream analysis
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is not part of the therapeutic process, perhaps because the encounter is brief, or
the client is not psychologically minded, or would not benefit from this form of
clinical practice. Nonetheless, having a sense of the client’s issues as mani-
fested in the symbolic realm can inform any level of therapeutic work.
Further, it is important, early on in therapy, to listen for the dominant meta-
phors. Some of these metaphors may be apparent in the first session while oth-
ers emerge later on, or are co-created by the therapeutic dyad (Rasmussen,
2000). When there is thematic correspondence between the manifest imagery
of the recurring dream(s) and the dominant metaphors, the therapist can estab-
lish a symbolic blueprint from which to build therapeutic interventions.
Chances are that the recurring dream will seem much less bizarre when direct
links can be shown between it and the client’s repetitive use of figurative lan-
guage. Conversely, ordinary metaphoric language will hold greater signifi-
cance when linked with significant dream material.
Finally, my comments with regard to the value of the manifest content of
dreams are not meant to disregard or devalue the importance of the latent
meaning that can be derived from a more intensive examination of the dream,
based on associations to the dream material and the day residue. Likewise, it
may be useful to consider that there is latent meaning imbedded in some meta-
phors. In the final analysis, the same capacities for comprehending the latent
meaning of a dream or a metaphor rely on our metaphorical thought processes,
that ubiquitous ability to transpose meaning from one situation to another.

CONCLUSION

Listening for the symbolic is a search for the inchoate, and the act of psy-
chotherapy, is, in part, an attempt to render coherence, or as Orange (1995)
states “making sense together.” Two important elements of symbolic expres-
sion that aid in this process are metaphor and dreams. In this paper, I have ex-
plored the relationship between our daytime use of metaphors and our
nighttime dreams and have suggested that there are thematic links, perhaps
most apparent between recurring dreams and dominant metaphors. The evi-
dence for such a correspondence between dreams and metaphors is largely the-
oretical, descriptive, and anecdotal. To date, there have been no empirical
studies to support the relationship, particularly as evidenced in the context of
psychotherapy. Consequently, further theoretical refinement and empirical
 86 PSYCHOANALYTIC SOCIAL WORK

validation is required to advance theory and practice in this area. Further, the
field can benefit from detailed case examples that show the therapist’s integra-
tion of metaphor and dream work, and the client’s reaction to such interventions.
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Manuscript Submitted: June 18, 2001
Final Version Received: February 28, 2002