Between the primary stages of the prototaxic mode manifested in trance and gross somatic behaviors, expressing the dreadful and uncanny aspects of the numinous element, and the terminal cognitive levels of the syntaxic mode in meditation, peak experiences, and theophanies, all reflecting benign aspects of the numinous, there is certainly a great gulf fixed. This neutral area is occupied by the parataxic mode in which the "awful" aspects of the numinous element are veiled, and the syntaxic glories not yet unfolded. Although archetypes, dreams, myth, and ritual are also in the mode, in the popular mind these outlets are stereotyped as "art."

"Parataxic" according to Sullivan (1953:xiv) is a mode of representation using symbols and images in a private or idiosyncratic manner, similar to Bruner's "iconic" representation. Parataxic representation is identified by a presentational form or image, which has a hidden meaning or one not clearly evocated, and generally ambiguous in that it may often be understood in different ways or at several levels of meaning. The representation is not a reproduction of nature, but some transformation or interpretation of it. The form is figural and non-verbal and tends toward action, but the action is not definitive or a solution to the psychic tension; it is more like a rehearsal of it. The form may have numinous or uncanny qualities, but these are commonly more muted than in the prototaxic mode, as though they were veiled; and there is a gradual increase of ego control from the ASC and dim cognition of the procedures of archetype and dream,

(page 175)

surfacing in OSC in myth and ritual and finally expressed in the creative products of art.

In the parataxic mode, encounters with the numinous element are veiled. There is veiling first of the numinous element itself in archetype; there is veiling of the ego's cognition of the numinous element so that the product appears as an incompletely differentiated image, and finally there is veiling of the mysterium tremendum quality so that the numinous is gradually stripped of its awe-full-ness and hence appears in a more benign and aesthetic guise. The result is not ecstatic nor awe-inspiring, but is diminished to the human dimension. As art is nature transformed, so the parataxic mode represents the numinous element transformed. There is an element of magic in this change: representations of the parataxic are not so much gods, asuras, or demons, as they are fairies, sprites, and sylphs.

This veiling of the numinous element allows the ego to remain intact in the encounter, but it also decreases the possibility of paranormal effects, noticeable in the other modes. For these effects (like physical children) are engendered by the copula of the naked individual mind with the general numinous. But in this initial attempt to encounter the numinous with the emotions instead of with the body, we must expect indirect, rather than direct knowledge, and therefore be satisfied with intimations, allegory, implications, and transformations. These metamorphoses are as old as Ovid, as modern as the product dimension of Guilford's Structure of Intellect, as aesthetic as Coomoswarny's Transformation of Nature in Art and as mathematically rigorous as affine transforms in projective geometry,

A number of writers including Abell, Cassirer, Collier, Langer, Jung, and Sullivan have suggested at the relationship between the numinous element and the procedures of the parataxic mode, namely archetype, dream, myth, ritual, and art. Confirmation of this relationship is found in this passage from Sullivan, the inventor of the term "parataxic," (1953;342-3):
 

Both myth and dream represent a relatively valid parataxic operation for the relief of the insoluble problems of living. In the myth the problems concern many people, and it is this fact which keeps the myth going ... The dream has function for a person in an immediate situation. . . .

Sullivan is not the only writer who can testify to the validity of grouping archetype dreams, myth, ritual, and art into a common mode whose defining attribute is an ambiguous image.

Langer (Schilpp 1949:387)points out that language and myth are twin functions. She quotes Cassirer that the earliest product of mythic

(page 176)

thinking "are dream elements, objects endowed with daemonic import, haunted places" and identifies the quality common to early myth and language as numinous. Abell describes the origin of the tension-imagery process as due to the accumulation of psychic energy encountered when there are difficulties in usual action procedures. (Hamlet's vacillation is a good example). He continues, (1966:60):
 

These tensions stimulate our imaginations to form images embodying their emotional essence. The mental activity through which psychic tensions are translated into mental imagery we shall call the tension imagery process (i.o.). This process is the dynamic agency behind both individual fantasies and forms of cultural expression.

Because of his discovery of the archetypes, Jung had an excellent intuition about the numinous aspects of parataxic images (1964:4):
 

Thus a word or an image is symbolic when it implies something more than its obvious and immediate meaning. It has a wider "unconscious" aspect that is never precisely defined or fully explained. Nor can one hope to define or explain it. As the mind explores the symbol, it is led to ideas that lie beyond the grasp of reason.

 
There are historical reasons for this resistance to the idea of an unknown part of the human psyche. Consciousness is a very recent acquisition of nature, and it is still in an "experimental" state. . . . One of the most common mental derangements that occur among primitive people is what they call loss of soul, which means, as the name indicates, a noticeable disruption (or more technically a dissociation) of consciousness. One might compare these quotations from Jung with what Rogers said (Kepes 1966:242): "The image is always and of necessity the work of an ordering will."

But perhaps the clearest statement on the subject is that of Cassirer (1925:1125-6) who says of the procedures of the parataxic mode:
 

The mythical world is concrete ... because in it the two factors, thing and signification are undifferentiated ... The concrescence of name and thing in the linguistic consciousness of primitives and children might well be illustrated: striking examples: name tabus. But as language develops ... distinct from all merely physical existence . . . the word emerges in its own specificity, in its purely significatory function. Arid art leads us to still another stage of detachment . . . Here for the first time the image world acquires a purely imminent validity and truth . . . Thus for the first time the world of the image becomes a self-contained cosmos ... In severing its bonds with immediate reality, with material existence and efficacy, which constitute the world of magic and myth, it embodies a new step toward the truth.

It would be hard to summarize the procedures of the parataxic mode with more clarity and precision than this.

Table V illustrates the progression of parataxic procedures across five properties - state of consciousness, direction of action, modality, goodness/ badness, and numinous aspect. The prototaxic mode and the syntaxic mode are shown for comparison anchor points on either side.

(1) State of consciousness progresses from trance in the prototaxic, through REM states in the early parataxic to the normal state.
(2) Direction of action starts with action being impressed on the individual, and ends with action being expressed by the individual.
(3) The cognitive modality changes from being excursed in the prototaxic mode, through pictorial, oral, and then expression in enactive, iconic,

(page 177)

Table V Properties of Parataxic Procedures

(page 178)
 

and symbolic representation at the higher levels.
(4) Goodness / badness goes from very bad in the prototaxic to very good in the syntaxic through intermediate levels in the parataxic.
(5) Finally, the numinous aspect loses the dreadful characteristics of the prototaxic and in the parataxic evolves from worrisome in archetype, paranormal in dreams, religious in myth, magical in ritual, and finally creative in art.

3.2 ARCHETYPE¹

The concept archetype belongs to C. G. Jung. Ira Progoff in his book Jung's Psychology and Its Social Meaning presents an introductory statement to Jung's psychological theories and an interpretation of their significance for the social sciences. Progoff says about archetype (1973, 1952:58):
 

When psychic contents come up from the lower layers (referring to the preconscious structure of the psyche), they may become part of the conscious attitude of individual personality, but the first question is what these contents are in themselves. In this regard Jung has developed the concept of "archetype," by which he means "forms or images of a collective nature which occur practically all over the earth as constituents of myths and at the same time as autochthonous, individual products of unconscious origin" (C. G. Jung: Psychology and Religion (Terry Lectures, 1937), Yale University Press, New Haven, 1938, p. 63).

Archetypes are identified as "fundamental patterns of symbol formation." They have been present since ancient days "because they grow out of the nature of the psyche in its most rudimentary form." These primordial images, once they have occurred in human history are then passed on to future generations as "part of a collective inheritance"; a collective unconscious. Jung sees these as "inherited pathways" not "inherited ideas" (Progoff 1973, 1952:59).

 
What are inherited are the same tendencies . . . it is the underlying patterns of symbol formation and not their specific details that are always the same.

(page 179)
 

Archetypes gain life and meaning only when you try to take into account their numinosity (psychic energy) - their relationship to the living individual. . . . Their names mean very little . . . the way they are related to you is all important.

The fluidic character of the numinous element enables it to take on whatever characteristics are impressed upon it by passive will. Imagine this element as a great ocean of water. Since the property of our vivency produces in spirit a tendency to form, the interface or surface of the ocean will develop waves. These waves are as apersonal as the medium in which they are formed, nearly as enduring, and almost as hard to conceptualize. They are, of course, Jung's "archetypes of the collective unconscious." Others call them "generating entities" for they behave like a mathematical function which generates other functions (see Appendix). Blofeld (1970) calls them "gods of the mandala," and if one is religious they can be regarded as tutelary deities, but that is not necessary. We will use Jung's word "archetype"; as such they represent the first effort toward distinguishing form in an otherwise formless substance.

Being "presentational" (in Van Rhijn's sense - that is, cognized at less than the full symbolic level), such archetypes are most commonly seen during waking hours in art, which is also a creative legacy from the collective preconscious. Art is especially rich in dealing with the myth and folklore in a culture, and hence, with the archetype, is a symbol of the collective unconscious of a culture. Archetypes are also revealed in dreams, mandalas, tarot cards, ideographs, and glyphs, and indeed wherever the presentational form outweighs the idiographic.

Roberts (1970:x) states that her control "mentions the existence of symbolic figures which assume identifiable forms within the unconscious in order to communicate more effectively. . ."Jung noted the existence of what he called archetypal figures in the unconscious who often communicate to the conscious mind through the symbolic garb of mythical, religious, or great historical figures."

Jacobi quotes Jung (Jacobi 1959:31) writing in "The Psychology of the Child Archetype" (Works, 9:1:267):
 

"Archetypes are factors and motifs that arrange the psychic elements into certain images, but in such a way that they can
 

be recognized only by the effects they produce. They exist preconsciously, and presumably they form the structural dominants of the psyche in general."

Jacobi continues (1959:32) that from the study of archetypes we

. . . gain insight into the psyche of the archaic man who still lives within us, and whose ego as in mythical times is present only in germ, without fixed boundaries and still interwoven wholly with the world and nature.
 

Archetypes may be considered the fundamental elements of the conscious mind, hidden in the depths of the psyche . . . they are systems of readiness for action, and at the same time, images and emotions. They are inherited with the brain structure - indeed they are its psychic aspect.
 

 
It was Jung's understanding that the archetypes, as structural forming elements in the unconscious, give rise both to the fantasy lives in individual children and to the mythologies of a people (i.o.).

These archetypes represented certain regularities, consistently recurring types of situation and types of figures. Jung categorized them in such terms as "the hero's quest," "the battle for deliverance from mother," "the night-sea journey" and called them archetypal situations. He suggested designations for archetypal figures also, for example, the divine child, the trickster, the double, the old wise man, the primordial mother.

The numinous aspects of archetypes are well explicated in the following Jungian passages. Jung (1964:68) says:
 

One can perceive the specific energy of archetypes when we experience the peculiar fascination that accompanies them. They seem to hold a special spell. Such a peculiar quality is also characteristic of the personal complexes and just as personal complexes have their individual history so do social complexes of an archetypical character. But while personal complexes never produce more than a personal bias, archetype create myths, religions and philosophies that influence and characterize whole nations and epochs of history,
 

(page 181)
 

they are both emotions and images; it is through emotion that psychic energy or numinosity comes to the image. Franz (ibid;377) points out that the dynamic aspect of archetypes have great emotional impact on the individual. Since their arrangement relates to the integration or wholeness of the individual they can affect healing and even creativity.

Neumann (1954:xv) calls archetypes "pictorial forms of the instincts." Calling the archetypes "psychic organs" Neumann (1954:xvi) says that
 

. . . they are the main constituent of mythology, that they stand in an organic relation to one another, and that their stadial* succession determines the growth of consciousness.

Neumann sees the mythological state arising out of the archetypes as the primal state of consciousness. In this primordial state man is literally one with nature. But (1954:xxiii) "contents which are primarily transpersonal, are in the course of development taken to be personal." Thus does the ego emerge out of the uruboros in both evolutionary development of the species and (by recapitulation) in the individual development of each human. (The uruboros is the primitive world - womb or circle depicted by a snake biting its own tail).

Neumann (1954:5) puts it:
 

The mythological stages in the evolution of consciousness begin with the stage when the ego is contained in the unconscious, and lead up to a situation in which the ego not only becomes aware of its own position and defends it heroically, but it also becomes capable of broadening and relativizing its experiences through the changes effected by its own activity.
 

The myth, being a projection of the transpersonal collective unconscious depicts transpersonal events, and whether interpreted objectively or subjectively in no case is a personalistic interpretation adequate . . . Consequently the hero myth is never connected with the private history of an individual, but always with some prototype or transpersonal event of collective significance.

Neumann (1954:264) believes that much of the uruboros comes before the Great Mother, and she before the dragon fight. He believes that
----------------------------------------------
*stadial means "stage of development."

(page 182)

this shows their archetypal structure, and allows a method of comparing and dating different civilizations. The uruboroshe points out (1954:266)
 

... is a borderline experience being individually and collectively prehistoric in the sense that history only begins with a subject ... when an ego and consciousness are already present.¹⁵

The uruboros hence:
 

. . . corresponds to the psychological stage in man's prehistory when the individual and the group, ego and unconscious, man and the world were so indissolubly bound up with one another that the law of participation mystique, of unconscious identity, prevailed between them.
 

Man's original fusion with the world ... has its best known anthropological expression in totemism which regards a certain animal as an ancestor, a friend, or some kind of powerful and providential being ... The same phenomenon of fusion as originally existed between man and the world also obtains between the individual and the group ...

Neumann (1954:270) points out:
 

The cardinal discovery of transpersonal psychology is that the collective psyche, the deepest layer of the unconscious, is the living ground current from which is derived everything to do with a particularized ego possession consciousness.

Franz (Jung 1964:378) believes that the archetypes appear not only in clinical analysis, but in the gamut of cultural activities, mythological, religious, and artistic, by which man expresses himself. And they have purpose. She says:
 

One can often decipher in them as in dreams the message of some seemingly purposive, evolutionary tendency of the unconscious.

We conclude this section on archetypes with Table VI which gives some representative archetypes. These should be thought of as basic motifs, which are seen alike in the individual dream and personal unconscious, and in the social and racial unconscious of myth and ritual. They are often explicated in art forms. Since two of these archetypes have special relationships with creativity in individuals, they bear a bit more comment. These are

(page 183)

Table VI Examples of Archetypes

(page 184)

the anima in men and the animus in women, the psychic gender opposite number for each individual. Despite Jung's investigation, we know too little about them, but apparently the way they operate on the conscious ego is different for each sex.

In speaking about the animus Castillejo (1973:73) puts it thus:
 

The animus, who is indeed like the woman's male partner, is not only intimidating and destructive, but is of the utmost value and is essential for any creativeness on her part. The first thing to stress is the collective nature of this figure. Like the anima of a man, he is the personification of a function which belongs in the psyche of all women, and is not a personal idiosyncrasy.

And again, discussing creativity, she remarks (Ibid:76-7):

"The power to focus is the essential quality which makes man the creative creature he is. . . ." "The power to focus is man's greatest gift, but not man's prerogative; the animus plays this role for women."
 

 
The archetypes to be discovered and assimilated are precisely those which have inspired the basic images of ritual and mythology.

(page 185)
 

These "eternal ones of the dream" are not to be confused with the personally modified symbolic figures that appear in nightmares or madness to the tormented individual. Dream is personalized myth - myth is depersonalized dream.

3.31 Introduction

If the stars only appeared once in a hundred years instead of every night, they would be considered a magical phenomenon of surpassing beauty. If dreams were as infrequent, they would be accorded the same awe. Insufficient attention has been paid to the fact that all human beings spend one third of their lives in the two altered states of consciousness known as sleep and dreaming, Both states appear necessary for physical and mental health, and they are generally distinguished physiologically by the rapid-eye movements (REM) of dreams which are absent in deep sleep.

Krippner (1970) and Buck (1971) describe and distinguish about twenty different states of consciousness, several associated with sleep and dreaming. Among the latter are the hypnagogic (falling asleep) and the hypnopompic (waking up) states with their special openness to suggestibility, vivid imagery, and the collective preconscious. Tart also distinguishes the "high dream" or the "lucid dream" (1969:169ff) where the dreamer "witnesses" the fact that he is indeed dreaming.

Dreaming is also associated with its two contiguous procedures in the parataxic mode - archetypes and myth. Dreaming relates to archetypes, because they usually only appear in dreams. Dreaming indeed, contributes to mental health because it "ventilates" the archetypes and expresses psychic tension which would otherwise be bottled up. Research studies have shown that when volunteer subjects are kept from dreaming for prolonged periods their mental health suffers.

Campbell, the great explicator of myth, states the fundamental relationship between myth and dream as follows (1956:11-14):
 

It has always been the prime function of mythology and rite to supply the symbolic thrust that carries the human spirit forward. ... In the absence of an effective general mythology, each of us has a private, unrecognized and yet secretly potent pantheon of dreams. . . . There is something in these initiatory messages so necessary for the psyche that if they are not supplied from without through myth and ritual, they have to be announced again through dreams . . . .

(page 186)

Sullivan (1953:342) adds:
 

Both the myth and the dream represent a relatively valid parataxic operation for the relief of insoluble problems of living. ... In the myth the problems concern many people, and it is this fact which keeps the myth going and refines and polishes it. . . . The dream has that function for a person in an immediate situation. . . . The schizophrenic illness . . . is the situation into which one falls, when for a variety of reasons the intense handicaps of living are so great that they must be dealt with during a large part of one's waking life in the same dream-myth sort of way. . . . In all these cases the psychiatrist is dealing with the type of referential material which is not in the syntaxic mode, and one merely stultifies himself, to my way of thinking, by trying to make this kind of report syntaxic.

3.32 Physiology of Sleep and Dreaming

Jouvet (1967) in a review of the subject points to Klaue's pioneer work in distinguishing sleep from dreaming by brain wave analysis. Kleitman and Dement correlated this activity with eye movements, showing that REM activity coincided with periods of dreaming, and with paradoxical deep sleep. Both emerge from a delicate balance between the raphe system which (apparently fueled by serotonin) puts the individual to sleep, and the reticular formation which sustains wakefulness. Paradoxical (deep) sleep seems to occur only in the higher mammals, and appears to facilitate some chemical restoration necessary for human consciousness.

Dement (1974) points out that the REM state "occurs in every human six or seven times in each sleep period and takes two or three hours in every adult's day. It is a highly elaborate fantastic window into a hallucinatory world." However, Dement is convinced that "the dream world is a real world." In his view the process consists of (1) a hypnagogic period, (2) light sleep, (3) deep or paradoxical sleep, (4) several periods of REM sleep or dreaming, alternating with (3) but with sleep becoming

(page 187)

lighter, and finally (5) the hypnopompic state which just precedes wakening. Kleitman (1960) traced these stages in detail.

There has been a great deal of progress in sleep and dreaming research since 1960. The effect of stress on dreams was well researched by Breger, Hunter, and Lane in 1971 in a book of the same title in which they found that dreams were the primary means by which the individual deals with stress in his environmental life. Peterfreund and Schwartz (1972) presented a unified approach to the phenomena of sleep and dreaming in which differences were explained in terms of activation and deactivation of certain programs in the brain. Williams (1970) reviewed sleep and dream research, and concluded that the subject was complex and not fully understood. Ephron and Carrington (1971) did a similar study on sleep phases. French (1957) continued an early paper on the reticular formation as the physiological means of keeping us awake, something like the little dog that wakes up the big dog of the cortex. Stoyva and Kamiya (1968) recognized electrophysiological studies of dreaming as a new strategy in the study of consciousness. Bourguignon (1973) discusses REM dreaming, sleep, trance, and hallucinations in the cultural aspects of her research.

Hadfield (1954:117) quotes LeGros Clark on the group of cells in the thalamus and mid-brain which:

 
... comprises a series of relay stations through which most sensory impulses must pass before they reach the cerebral cortex. . . . These groups of cells are more than simply relay stations; they are sorting stations which allow for the sorting and resorting of the incoming impulses so that they are projected on to the cerebral cortex in a new kind of pattern.

The physiological function described is very nearly that assigned by psychiatrists such as Kubie to the preconscious.

3.33 Theories of Dreaming

Virgil told us that dreams came through two gates of horn and ivory, and that the former were fantasy and the latter true. Since Virgil's time there have been many theories about dreams:
 

1. that they represent a somatic response (too much food)
2. that they outlet repressions (Freudian)
3. that they are required for mental health to restore proper brain function (physiological)
4. that they involve some kind of symbolization (parataxic)
5. that they open the door to the preconscious (ESP, creativity)
6. that they come from outside (collective unconscious or precognitive warning).

(page 188)

Hadfield (1954:5-12) enumerates various theories of dreaming as follows:
 

a. the physiological or "heavy supper" theory
b. the personal reminiscence theory
c. the theory of racial reminiscence
d. the premonitory theory.

He also (1954:67ff) sees specific functions for dreams
 

a. to reproduce worrying situations through perseveration
b. to serve as a form of ideation
c. to stand for experience by the reproduction of the problem
d. to warn of the consequences of action
e. to point to the causes of our troubles, often by rehearsing them
f. to make us face a situation we are trying to avoid
g. to point to the solution to a problem
h. to relieve hidden potentials and repressed emotions so that we may be restored to health.

He points out (1954:104) that "whatever we worry about, we dream about." But the helpfulness of dreams (since they are parataxic) is hindered by their being characterized by primitive thinking (Hadfield, 1954:140)
 

a. which is concrete not abstract, and therefore takes the form of image or symbol;
b. which takes place on the plane of sensation and perception rather than idea; and
c. which is characterized by lack of ability to relate cause and effect.

Hartman (1973:13-17) cites research showing the large percentage of dream-time in sleep found in young animals and humans, leading to the belief that newborn primates need more stimulation to the cortex than can be provided by sensory stimulation during waking hours. He also cites research (1973:14) that dream-time has a role in dealing with learning and memory, and another theory that it is associated with reprogramming the brain. Other research (1973:15) holds that dreaming bears a special relationship to intellectual ability. Elsewhere Hartman (1973:30) cites research suggesting that "D-sleep is an especially primitive state," and he notes (1973:38) that "during D much of the forebrain is in a state similar to that of alert waking." Studies in D deprivation suggest (1973:48) that it produces interference with memory and learning, but the amount of time required for D-sleep is "far from constant" (1973:62).

Hartman (1973:67) notices personality relationships with dreaming. Worriers require more D-time sleep. But this is also true of "tortured geniuses" (1973:68) for "certain very creative, concerned persons, both

(page 189)

in art arid science, often are long sleepers." Psychotherapy and Transcendental Meditation appear to reduce sleep requirements by 1-2 hours (1973:77), especially D-time sleep, whereas "an increased sleep need is associated with intellectual and emotional work" (1973:78).

Hartman's own hypothesis is then given (1973:116):

 
. . . that there may be a feedback mechanism connecting catecholamines and D-sleep such that conditions characterized by low catecholamines produces increased D-time, and that D-time in some way restores the integrity of the catecholamine brain systems, which, as we have seen, play important roles during wakefulness ...
 

Jones (1962:43) (from a psychoanalytic stance) views a dream as the product of several psychodynamic forces:
 

1. a motivating repressed wish of infantile origin;
2. the defense ego which discharges the energy of the repressed wish so as to maintain a healthy state of sleep;
3. the synthesis ego which governs the setting, style, and rhythm ... as a preconscious process of redifferentiation and reintegration of pre-adaptive epigenetic successes and failures . . . under the . . . pressure of phase-specific readaptive crises.
 

Another mental health implication of dreaming is brought out by Moss (1967:57-8):

 
Psychoanalytic theory postulates that dreaming is a safety valve and that failure of this outlet can result in a compulsion to dream

(page 190)
 

(hallucinate) in the waking state. Fenichel (1945:432) aptly represents this psychoanalytic viewpoint that because the unconscious has become conscious, the psychotic is dominated by archaic modes of thinking. He writes: "The schizophrenic shows an intuitive understanding of symbolism. Interpretation of symbols, for instance, which neurotics find so difficult to accept in analysis, are made spontaneously and in a matter of course by the schizophrenic." The verbalizations of the schizophrenic are similar to the unconscious repressed thoughts of the normal or neurotic. Symbolic thinking for them is not merely a method of defensive distortion; it is an archaic pictorial mode of thinking that occurs in all regressive states.

Dream symbols appear to allow repressed impulses to be expressed in disguised form. Sweetland and Quay (1952, 1953) and Moss (1967:167ff) made a series of studies on the content of dreams, arranged by personality patterns in conscious waking life. Well adjusted subjects produced "integrated" dreams with a minimum of emotional affect and considerable elaboration of the motif, whereas maladjusted subjects produced less structured dreams with high emotional content. The MMPI was used as a measure of adjustment. Surprisingly, the K score (until then considered a defensive suppressor variable) had the highest correlation with mental health and integrated dreams. In one of his earlier efforts the author (1955) who was then studying the high K factor found in effective teachers, connected these studies of Sweetland and Quay, and concluded that the K score was a measure of ego-strength. Apparently the creative impulse in mentally healthy dreamers results in innovation and elaboration of their dreams as well as their waking thoughts.

Jung (1964:37) says;
 

For the sake of mental stability and even physiological health the unconscious and the conscious must be integrally connected and then move on parallel lines. If they are split apart or dissociated, psychological disturbance follows. In this respect, dream symbols are the essential message carriers from the instinctive to the rational parts of the human mind, and their interpretation enriches the poverty of consciousness so that it learns to understand again the forgotten language of the instincts.

Jung (1964:41) in noting the difference between a sign and a symbol, says:
 

The sign is always less than the concept it represents, while

(page 191)
 

a symbol always stands for something more than its obvious and immediate meaning.

Kubie (1953:59) sees the symbolic function as bridging man's inner and outer world. Symbolism represents a continuity of conscious and unconscious mental activity, in which the unconscious extends beyond the boundary of the individual.

Jung (1964:33) reinforces this when he says of dreams:
 

That is what dream language does; its symbolism has so much psychic energy that we are forced to pay attention to it.
 

 
So long as we admit only discursive symbolism as a bearer of ideas, thought in this restricted sense must be regarded as our only intellectual activity.

In this physical space-time world of our experience there are things which do not fit the grammatical schema of expression. But they are not necessarily blind, inconceivable mystical affairs; they are simply matters which require to be conceived through some symbolic schema other than discursive language ...

Tauber and Green (1959:27) point up the difficulty of conveying the presentational form of a dream in the discursive language of everyday life when they say:
 

Dreams, as we know, are usually presented in the form of visual imagery. Therefore, in order to communicate a dream to a listener, one has to translate its visual imagery into a language. They continue that since a large proportion of man's experience in the dream is presentational, the psychotherapeutic session can be greatly handicapped by such a restriction as verbal discourse only.

Tauber and Green (1959:33) echo this concept when they say:
 

There is a fallacy in identifying the prelogical processes with infancy, a chronological condition. Prelogical thinking is part of the basic endowment of man throughout his life.

Jones (1962:19-20) declares:
 

The psychological function of dreaming for Jung is that of

(page 192)
 

compensation- for a kind of conscious myopia by a kind of unconscious vision. Each life, says Jung, is guided by a "private myth" grounded in both individual instinctual patterns, and the history of mankind, and mediated by the "archetypes" which are deployed by both. The function of dreaming is to restore connection between the profound awarenesses of the unconscious and the conscious with its "lopsided attention to superficialities."

Silberer is noted by Jones (1970:23) as believing that dreams perform a restorative function in permitting the (parataxic) symbolization of psychic tensions.

Tauber and Green (1959:ix) say:
 

Our general thesis will be that these prelogical processes are an inherent part of man's symbolizing equipment and that they illuminate and present his inner experience of himself and his relation to others. . . .
 

Dreams are the manifestations in consciousness, during sleep, of the workings not only of the unconscious ... but of the subconscious mind. They are more than the mere reproductions of problems left during the day; they sift out the material and work out the problems by their own methods, and on principles different from those of the conscious mind ... instead ... they use the function of analogy, of simile, or parable, and of symbolism. It is for that reason ... that the subconscious mind is manifested in dreams and is able to solve problems which the conscious mind by its reasoning has failed to solve.

But not only are dreams "restorative" to the individual in that they permit the outletting of psychic tension from the subconscious, and idiosyncratic in that, as Jung (1964:viii) notes: "The dreamer's unconscious is communicating with the dreamer alone, and is selecting symbols which have meaning to the dreamer and no one else . . ."' they also involve the collective unconscious whose expressions may be social rather than personal.

As Deveraux says in the introduction of Lincoln (1970:vi):

 
He highlighted with great clarity a process which might be called the "socialization" of the dream; its integration into the institutional culture of the dreamer. . . . Expanding a hypothesis . . . that certain supernaturalistic beliefs are derived from dream experiences, Dr. Lincoln shows that other culture elements too
 

... may be inspired by dreams. In this connection he cites not only ritual acts, political decisions, and works of art, but three examples of scientific activity.

The psychological significance of this concept is that dreams may be interpreted equally well as due to the culture pattern of the collective preconscious, as well as the tensions in the individual unconscious.

This conclusion is reached by Lincoln (1970:26) when he says:
 

The structure of dreams and myths . . . in primitive cultures, can be regarded, therefore, as similar manifestations of the unconscious mind.

3.34 Nightmares

Nightmares (the word derives from a spirit not a horse) evoke the uncanny dread of an early and prototaxic exposure to the numinous. They are, hence, characteristic of rather immature individuals (children) or regressed and mentally unhealthy adults. They can be looked upon as severe "unstressing" experiences which are traumatic to the conscious ego, (see section 2.23).

As Hadfield (1954:176) explains:
 

The distinctive features of a nightmare in the more restricted sense of the term is that of a monster, whether animal or subhuman, which visits us during sleep and produces a sense of dread.

Hadfield (1954:177) quotes Ernest Jones that there are:
 

...three cardinal features of the malady: (a) agonizing dread, (b) a sense of oppression or weight at the chest which alarmingly interferes with respiration, (c) a conviction of helpless paralysis, together with other subsidiary symptoms such as palpitation.
 

But all of these are the accompaniments of any intense fear; any severe enough dread will affect our respiration, produce sweating and palpitation, and the sense of paralysis as when we say we are paralyzed by fear.

Regarding dreams of devouring animals such as wolves, Hadfield (1954:195) says:
 

So too with the nightmare and myths of "devouring wolves" where the emphasis is upon the same sadistic desires in relation to food.We are the devouring wolves. In the stories of the werewolf,
 

 
men turn into wolves, this being a reproduction and representation of what happens to a man under the dominance of an overwhelming passion. . . .

3.35 Hypnotic Investigation of Dreams

One of the favorite (though not the most fruitful) methods of psychological study of dreams has been through hypnotic investigation. The most comprehensive material on this is the book by Moss (1967) of the same title as the heading. It is both a book of facts, and a compendium of readings.

As Moss tells us (1967:3-4):
 

The central proposition of the psychoanalytic theory of dreams is that dream formation is an unconscious event.... It was in his attempt to understand the language of the dream that Freud first differentiated between a primary and a secondary mode of thinking. . . . Thus in psychoanalysis the dream has both a manifest content, and a latent or repressed meaning, and the interpretation of the latter appears to be resisted by powerful forces. . . . Dreams were regarded as a distorted, perceptual-hallucinatory form of direct wish fulfillment, vis-a-vis the logical orderly manner of thinking of normal waking life. In later formulations Freud recognized the dream as a regressive or primitive mode of thought.

And Moss adds (1967:5):
 

Freud, then, did not regard symbols as exclusively or even primarily a problem of dream interpretation, but basically a problem of the understanding of unconscious or primary thought processes. . . .

Besides Moss' (1967) book, two reviews of the subject of hypnotic dreams, one by Barber (1962a), and the other by Tart (1965) are worthy of note. Both have continued their investigations since then. Barber's work is well represented in the Aldine Annuals Biofeedback and Self Control(1970,1971, 1972). Whereas Barber tends to a position which discredits the genuineness of hypnotism and the hypnotic dream, Tart (1969), using new techniques, tends to support the reality of the phenomena.

Honorton (1971) discusses a number of methodological problems, and suggests that future studies in the area should be directed toward:
(a) further exploration of electrophysiological concommitants of nocturnal and induced dreams, and
(b) comparison of nocturnal and hypnotic dreams from the same Ss.

(page 195)

Silberer, the pioneer researcher on hypnagogic phenomena, analyzed the image-making ability of the dreamer and concomitant conditions. As Tauber and Green (1959:42) tell us:
 

In analyzing this experience Silberer states that it consisted really of two conditions - drowsiness and an effort to think. Silberer called this effect "the autosymbolic phenomenon."

Moss (1967:2-3) points out that the central proposition of the psychoanalytic theory of dreams is that dream formation is an unconscious event in which the dream is a distorted, hallucinatory form of wish-fulfillment, and a regressive, or primitive mode of thought. Furthermore, dreams involve symbolization which, in Freudian terms, disguise meaning as well as represent it.

The structure and function of hypnotically induced dreams has been a general method of focus in research. Schnek (1967) reviewed the literature on this subject. Brady and Bosner (1967) investigated rapid eye movement during such dreams. Sacerdote (1968) discussed induced dreams and pointed out their therapeutic value.

Some miscellaneous studies deserve mention. Suttcliffe and others (1971) found a curvilinear relationship between hypnotic suggestibility and vividness of imagery. Stross and Seevrin (1967) did an interesting study which connected recall of dreams with susceptibility to hypnosis, thereby verifying that hypnosis opens up the recall channel in some manner. Tart and Dick (1971) reported on the posthypnotic dream.

One of the peculiar aspects of hypnotic research on dreams is that there is lots of it, but no clarifying overall theories. It almost looks as though this method, while appealing to the psychologist, is not in the main stream of the underlying variables. Perhaps this situation is due to the fact that generally hypnosis does not give enough weight to dreams as the avenue to the numinous.

3.36 Dreams and Creativity

If creativity results from psychological openness to the preconscious, then dreams, reveries, and fantasies should be prime channels to creative insight. There are, in fact, many testimonies from creative people that this is the manner by which they have made their discoveries, (see below). Dreaming still seems to be one of the easiest methods of contact with the numinous through the preconscious. This encounter usually results in an image, not always clear at first, capable of different interpretations, and presentational not verbal, hence a symbol in its emergent sense.

Silberer's "autosymbolic phenomena" closely approximate creative intuition. Both are products of the hypnagogic state when the contact

(page 196)

between the conscious mind and the generalized preconscious is most easily effected. Since this juncture is fraught with some dissociation of the ego and loss of command over ideas, images or signs are used as a substitute. Silberer notes the corresponding process in the development of the race (Rapaport 1951:217):
 

Generation after generation, man pursues knowledge through a series of images and mythologies - then the symbol as a substitute for ideas of which humanity has no command as yet. . . .

One of the functions of dreams, according to Lincoln (1970:27), is that "the soul wanders while the body sleeps and undergoes experiences in a supposedly real world." The dream experience is regarded as having a reality of its own, cognate with the reality of waking. Dreams are especially important in this view as they furnish experience for the spirit in sleep, as nature does for the body while awake.

In many cultures dreams are accounted to be communications from on High to the individual, giving knowledge important for his safety or welfare. This concept leads to the modern psychological view of the dream as irruptions of internal psychic tensions from the personal unconscious. Dreams may also concern social as well as personal problems, and such dreams, which tap the collective unconscious, are not (as Sir Edward Tylor first noted) the womb of creativity in the individual, but of collective myth and religion in the tribe. Cures, magic, totems, ritual, ceremonies, and many other aspects of culture result from such information. As Lincoln (1970:95) notes:
 

Much of primitive culture is derived from the ancestor spirit who communicated through the culture pattern dream, the dream image being accepted as the real ancestor (i.i.o.).
 

In the creative activity of individual man, as in the creative activity of the race, the image plays an equally significant role. Poets and artists throughout the ages have told of the image that comes as a step in the creative experience.... Language itself has its origin in man's inherent tendency to give form and appearance to his feelings and thoughts. . . .
 

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are used in creative behavior. Hamilton (1971) studied dreams in the creativity of the poet Keats. Garcia-Barroso (1972) discusses the relationship between dreams, reveries, and unconscious fantasies, noting that they are all aspects of desire which may or may not be explicated in creative performance.

Several systems have been developed to use dreams and fantasy to solve creatively problems too baffling for the conscious mind. Mention may be made of the autogenic system of Shultz, the dream programming for creative response of Cora Flagg (sect.3.38) the hypnoprojective technique of Moss, the guided fantasy of Desoille, and several others.

Dreams also constitute an excellent avenue to projection. The hypnoprojective fantasy technique, as Moss (1967:25) reminds us, bears a close resemblance to the waking guided dream or fantasy of Desoille (1961), developed in France and popularized in the U.S.A. by Gil Repaille at the Buffalo Creative Problem-Solving Workshop. The subject after being relaxed, is given the suggestion that he "prepare for imaginary trips into the realm of creative imagination: an object may be presented, and the person is then asked, "What might you do with it?" This quickly allows the healthy subject to exhibit creative innovation, which is the aim of the fantasy technique. Van Berg (1962) points out that whereas under these conditions, the healthy person can cooperate in these descents into the preconscious, the neurotic always encounters hindrances, embodied in a figure (the keeper of the threshold) which prohibits exploration. These activities are similar to the Jungian technique of "active imagination."

Moss (1967:27) reports that Desoille believes that his client is in a hypnagogic state intermediate between true hypnosis and dreaming: "In this hypnagogic state ... the imagination, accompanied by imagery of a hallucinatory intensity is dissociated from the critical facilities."

And Moss (1967:26-7) concludes his analysis by pointing out that like "Jung, Desoille believes that when the patient can relate himself to the archetypes of the "Collective Unconscious" he has attained an appropriate basis for resolving the problems of life."

Moss (1970) has since developed a new study on dreams, images, and fantasy using the Semantic Differential technique.

In commenting on this matter, Green et. al. (1971a) say:
 

From these experiments it appears that there is a relationship or link between alpha and theta rhythms, reverie, and hypnagogic-like imagery. That there is also a link between (them) and creativity is revealed by the many true creative or intuitive
 

creative ideas and solutions (in contradistinction to logical problem-solving solutions) that have come to consciousness out of or during reverie and dream-like states.

After a discussion of this type of creative experience of Cocteau, Stevenson, Kekule, Loewi, and others, they go on:
 

There are literally hundreds of anecdotes that show in some way not yet clearly understood, hypnagogic imagery . . . dreaming, and creativity are associated. The terminology used to describe the state we have called reverie is extremely varied, as for instance the "fringe" of consciousness (James 1959), the "preconscious" (Kubie 1958), the off-conscious and the transliminal mind: (Rugg, 1963), and the "transliminal experience" (MacKinnon 1964).

Lincoln (1970:90) quotes Seafield as follows:
 

The Divina Comedia was inspired by a dream; Hermas wrote his "Pastor" to the dictation of a voice heard in sleep; Condorcet saw in a dream the final stages of a difficult calculation, and Condillac frequently developed and finished a subject in his dreams.
But the most complete summary of the use of dreams for discoveries and inventions by scientists is by Krippner (1972):

There are records of many instances of artistic, scientific, and philosophical insights occurring during dreams. However, an important question has never been resolved: Does the creative dream represent a consolidation of ideas attained while one is awake (and in ordinary reality), or does it represent insights gained from experiences attained within the non-ordinary reality of the dream itself?

Robert Louis Stevenson (cited by Woods, 1947:871-879) wrote that he learned early in his life that he could dream complete stories and that he could even go back to the same dreams on succeeding nights to give them a different ending. Later he trained himself to remember his dreams and to dream plots for his books. He wrote that his dreams were produced by "little people" who "labor all night long," and set before him "truncheons of tales upon their lighted theatre." Stevenson described how he obtained the plot for his short story, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde:"

 
For two days I went about racking my brains for a plot of any sort; and on the second night I dreamed the scene at the

(page 199)
 

window, and a scene afterwards split in two, in which Hyde, pursued for some crime, took the powder and underwent the change in the presence of his pursuers. All the rest was made awake, and consciously ... All that was given me was the matter of three scenes, and the central idea of a voluntary change becoming involuntary . . . "
 

Jean Cocteau (1952) dreamed he was watching a play about King Arthur; he later noted that it was "an epoch and characters about which I had no documentary information." The dream was so challenging that Cocteau was led to write his "The Knights of the Round Table". He concluded, "The poet is at the disposal of his night. He must clean his house and await its visitation."

Do these creative dreams of artists consolidate old material or do they find and explore a new reality? It appears that these dreams do both; they find and give expression to non-ordinary reality by giving better insight into people and events, and they do so by consolidating or integrating past material. Conversely, we can also say that by giving expression to a non-ordinary reality these dreams synthesize a great deal of material.²
 

Since the most ancient times dreams are reputed to have paranormal associations. Examples are found in the Bible, (e.g. Moses, Joseph) and in the sacred writings of nearly every high culture. Impressively, precognition is frequent in such dreams, which indicates a reality outside time, that is, the numinous element. Telepathic dreams are also found, as are dreams of monition and advice, and even those of assurance from beyond the grave. A dream may incorporate several or all aspects.

Hill (1968) has compiled accounts of precognitive dreams. Cicero dreamt that a fair young man would become emperor, and later recognized Octavius as the lad when he was introduced (p. 7). William II of England had a precognitive death warning the night before he was shot (p. 9). A Kentish father wrote his son at Oxford about a coming robbery, which was instrumental in the culprit's apprehension (p. 14). A British M.P. dreamed about the coming assassination of Lord Perceval, the Chancellor (p. 21). Lincoln dreamed of his own assassination (pp. 28-9). Dickens dreamed of a certain woman the day before he met her (p. 30). Similar material can also be found in Prince (1963). Ullman, Krippner, and Vaughan (1973:178-189) devote an entire chapter to precognitive dreams.

Hadfield (1954:218ff) discusses three types of precognitive dreams:
 

a. those apparently precognitive but capable of a simpler explanation;

(page 200)
 

b. veridictical information of contemporary events explainable by telepathy;
c. apparently precognitive dreams, explainable by neither of the above.

Jung (1964:36) notes the precognitive aspect of such dreams in declaring:
 

Thus dreams may sometimes announce certain situations long before they actually happen. This is not necessarily a miracle. ... Many crises in our lives have a long unconscious history. We move toward them step by step unaware of the dangers that are accumulating. But what we consciously fail to see is frequently perceived by our unconscious, which can pass the information on through dreams.
 

Precognitive dreams have been baffling because until now there has been no rationale to explain the time distortion. Most people find this distortion difficult to accept because to them it demands a deterministic universe. But contact with the numinous (sect. 1.32, 4.13, 4.72) evokes its posture of being outside time and space, and this concept should help us to see the reasons for these stubborn and unusual facts. If precognitive dreams are monitions of a probable but not certain future, which may be avoided if we take action (as did Scrooge), they are precognitive only if we ignore them.

Telepathic dreams are easier to understand, although what is a time distortion in precognition has become a space distortion in telepathy. The most common telepathic dream is death-bed telepathy which is sometimes experienced in a dream, and sometimes in a waking vision. Both Hill (1968) and French (1963) are full of such accounts in which a person wakes up in the morning and announces that a distant relative or friend is dead, only receiving verification of the matter later. Our earlier book (1974:12-25) has several such accounts which are rather common even in the general literature. Apparently the lapse of the agent into the hypnagogic state preceding death brings his mind (still freighted with the desire to communicate his plight) into contact with the numinous element, and that is all that is required.

(page 201)

Unfortunately, research on telepathic dreams must be content with much less motivated circumstances than death-bed agonies: what usually results is the calling of Zener cards or the targeting of pictures from a distance. Of all the research in this area the best and most extensive in this country has been done at the Maimonides Hospital Dream Study Laboratory by Ullman, Krippner, and their associates. In general, results have been evidential, but rationale hard to find. Honorton (1973) investigating dream recall and ESP reported results at p = .002; Krippner (1970) reported transmission of artistic stimuli telepathically during sleep (p - .004). Krippner (1971) investigated sex differences; and he (1972) also reported a long distance (fourteen miles) dream telepathic success (p - .004). Krippner, Honorton and Ullman (1972) reported on the dream telepathy of art prints. Previously Krippner and Ullman showed that telepathic communication can appear in dreams. (See Table II, page 112.)

Ullman (1968) reported early on the dream laboratory research. In 1972 he recounted some of the studies suggesting telepathy in dreaming. Ullman, Krippner and Feldstein earlier (1967) demonstrated that dream telepathy was feasible. Ullman and Krippner (1970) reported three studies indicating the effect; in 1971 they did a popular article on ESP in dreams; in 1972, using REM monitoring techniques, they were able to prove dream telepathy (p = .001). Ullman, Krippner, and Vaughan (1973) finally published the bulk of the dream laboratory studies in a book Dream Telepathy.

The explanation, of course, for this well-designed and replicated research is that contact with the numinous element during the REM dream state allows the transmission of the message through space, as well as through time.

Several other kinds of paranormal dreams certainly suggest a beneficent view of the cosmos. One is the accident warning precognitive dream, which indicates the possibility of an accident and contains information which, if properly used, can help to prevent it. (A precognitive dream of a determined future would not have this feature). Another kind of dream has assurance or hope purportedly communicated from a dead agent who passes knowledge which can be of advantage but is unknown to anyone living. Hill (1968:33) gives a classic example of a dead father appearing in a dream to tell where he has secreted money unknown to anyone alive. Note that the hypothesis that this knowledge is in the numinous element does not require the belief in a returning spirit.

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3.38 High Dreams, Lucid Dreams, Programming Dreams

It is now time to look at some anomalous types of dreams whicha lso appear to have relationships with the numinous. First is the "high dream" described by Tart (1970) as "a new state of consciousness." The abstract reads:
 

Three distinct types of mental activity are described as occurring during sleep:

(a) dreaming associated with a Stage 1, EEG pattern with intense effects, visual imagery and activity;
(b) sleep thinking, associated with a Stage 2, 3, or 4 pattern somewhat resembling the waking reverie; and
(c) the lucid dream in which a sort of overlap occurs, during which the dreamer seems to possess normal waking consciousness interwoven with the sleeping phase of his dream.

Tart (1969:169) also describes similar unusual dreams, which can hardly be distinguished from a waking revery or vision. They are psychedelic in that the sensations are intensely strong, - colors vivid, sounds vibrant. Satprem (1964:122) distinguishes between dreams and "vivid experiences" of a dream-like nature, which are "infinitely more real than physical scenes."

Similar experiences are recounted in the nature mystic experiences of section 4.71.

The "lucid dream" is an interesting phenomenon that appears more often with those advanced in the syntaxic stages. It consists of "witnessing" to the fact that one is dreaming. Such persons begin to acquire will about dreaming, which hitherto has been absent from this ASC. Some authors posit that this achievement represents the gradual purification of the subconscious as a side effect of meditation or the higher jhanas.

In regard to programming of dreams, the late Kilton Stewart did extensive study of the dream training of Senoi children (Tart 1969:159ff) in which he showed how the Senoi improved the mental health of their children by systematic training in removing the traumatic aspects from children's dreams. This consisted in hearing a recitation of the night's dreams at breakfast, in which the father might say to the child: "The monster who chased you was just your friend in a disguise; next time step up to him and be friendly, and all will be well." Stewart's interesting work is comparatively unknown, the most accessible article (other than Tart) being one in 1962. But even this piece does not give the full flavor of his teaching about programming dreams to accomplish whatever we wish, such as "Tomorrow, I will wake up with a new, creative idea about how to solve this problem." This work is now carried on by Stewart's widow,

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Clara Flagg, at the Kilton Stewart Foundation for Creative Psychology 144 E 36th St. New York.

Stewart writes: "The sleep mind is the total mind, and the "I" of the dream is the primary central self"; in further writing, he equates this self to the Kahuna "low mind" (section 4.54) or to the collective preconscious, attributing to it thereby powers verging on the numinous. His thesis is that by a kind of autogenic training we can program this "computer" to work for us while we are asleep. Stewart's work in this field was ahead of his time; consequently his research was ignored; we are now beginning to see that it deserves much more attention.

3.39 Conclusion

This section has given careful attention to an important and neglected subject - dreaming - which is the most natural altered state of consciousness in which the numinous element can be contacted. Dreaming is common, safe, cheap, usually not scary or traumatic, neither addictive nor fattening, and can easily be practiced in bed. It is a wonder that more people have not payed more attention to it. But few of us keep a record of our dreams; fewer still attempt a scientific study of them. Dreams are, however, the road to creativity, and the genie of the Aladdin's lamp who can disclose the hidden cave of treasure. When people ask how they can become psychic, there is no better response than to reply "First examine your dreams, then use them to become creative." For as we become more aware of our dreams, preconscious material becomes more accessible to the ego; hence we become more spontaneous and as a result, more creative.

Dreams also have a mental health and restorative function. They contain the symbolization of feelings, ideas, memories, and experiences in the preconscious. They provide access to these elements as a result of which creative ideas can express themselves. They also offer an entrance toward the paranormal, and by virtue of this easy contact with the numinous, they offer both intuitive experiences with this primary source of energy and its initial non-traumatic relationship with the ego.

Dreams can be considered the highest form of the prototaxic mode, for they are the last procedure which takes place in an altered state of consciousness from the prototaxic end. As the highest procedure they have unique functions which already have become greatly humanized in comparison with some of the earlier prototaxic effects of Chapter 11. But having paid our respects here, we must now move to consider myth, - the first procedure in the normal state of consciousness.

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3.4 MYTH

3.41 General Introduction

True myth is defined by Graves (1955:10) as "the reduction to narrative shorthand of ritual mime performed on public festivals. ... Their subjects were archaic magic-makings that promoted the fertility or stability of a sacred queendom, . . ."  Graves goes on to point out that magic, supernatural or totem calendar-beasts figured in these rituals, and that to understand Greek mythology we must appreciate the matriarchal and totemistic system which held sway there before incursion of patriarchal invaders. An example of such a mythical beast was the chimera, with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail.

While Jung believes that myths are original revelations of the preconscious psyche, Graves holds that a "true science of myth should begin with a study of archaeology, history, and comparative religion" (1955:22).

Eliade concludes that the value of myth lies in its ability to evoke a numinous relationship through a priest or by proxy for a believer who is otherwise, however, incapable of any other relationship with the ground of being. He says (1969:59):
 

The myth continually reactualizes the Great Time and in so doing raises the listener to a superhuman and suprahistorical plane; which among other things, enables him to approach a Reality that is inaccessible at the level of profane, individual existence.

It may be seen that this indeed is the function of all parataxic representation, not only with myth, but also with archetypes, dreams, art, and especially ritual. For whether we consider ritual magic or the Mass of the Church, it is obvious that ritual has the common purpose of gaining merit and personal advantage for the celebrant and his constituency, through approach to the numinous element or some manifestation of it.

The archeology of man's developing social thought is preserved in myth. Recently acquired is the "loose and separate" consciousness of Western man which separates him from the continuum of nature in time, space, and personality. More primitive consciousness was not so differentiated; it was more dreamy and less clear. In myth we find remnants of images now less than precise, whose equivocal ambivalence was once an asset. In the dawning of consciousness, wherein myth abounded, it was easier to believe that man might

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be metamorphosed into an animal or vice versa, that magical flight could conquer space, and that precognition could reverse time. The vestiges of these motifs in myth is testimony to the development of a conscious ego from a primal self which did not know itself as distinct from nature. The periodic developmental stage theory (Gowan 1972,1974) presents an ontogenic recapitulation of evolutionary phylogeny. The differentiation of ego functioning culminates in stage 5, (the Eriksonian identity crisis), as the individual correlate of the evolution of the personal ego in the species.

Eliade (1969:14) points out that this mythical repository in modern man has been relegated to the attic of the unconscious:
 

For the unconscious is not haunted by monsters only: the gods, goddesses, the heroes, and the fairies dwell there too; moreover, the monsters of the unconscious are themselves mythological, seeing that they continue to fulfill the same functions that they fulfilled in all the mythologies - in the last analysis that of helping man liberate himself. . . .
 

 
Images by their very nature are multivalent (i.o.). If the mind makes use of images to grasp the ultimate reality of things, it is just because reality manifests itself in contradictory ways, and therefore cannot be expressed in concepts.

Eliade (1969:57) tells us:
 

Myth is an account of events which took place in principio, that is "in the beginning," in a primordial and non-temporal instant, a moment of sacred time (i.o.). The mythic or sacred time is qualitatively different from profane time, from continuous and irreversible time of our everyday de- sacralized existence. In narrating a myth one reactualizes in some sort the sacred time in which the events narrated took place.

Myth, therefore is a way of bringing the numinous to the common man without involving him in an altered state of consciousness. Its sacramental character veils an inner numinous truth which is explicated by the ritual which the myth demands, and which action reaffirms the relationship between the present which is in time, and the numinous which is out of time.

Eliade (1963:18) says:
 

Myth as experienced in archaic societies:
 

(1) constitute the history and acts of the supernaturals;
(2) this history is considered to be absolutely true ... and sacred;
(3) that myth is always related to creation (it tells how something came into existence);
(4) that by knowing the myth one knows the origin of things, and hence can control and manipulate them at will (by) a knowledge that one "experiences" ritually, either by ceremonially recounting the myth, or by performing the ritual for which it is the justification;
(5) that in one way or another one "lives" the myth, in the sense that one is "seized" by the sacred exalting power of the events recollected or re-enacted.

Gaster (1950:11) traces the origin of myth as "a sequence of ritual acts, which ... have characterized major seasonal festivities." These as he explains (1950:9) are "derived from a religious ritual designed to ensure the rebirth of a dead world." He elaborates on the central thesis (1950:17) as follows:
 

Seasonal rituals are functional in character. Their purpose is to revive the topocosm (i.o.), that is, the entire complex of any given locality conceived as a living organism. But this topocosm possesses a ... durative aspect, representing not only actual and present community, but also the ideal of community, an entity, of which the latter is but the current manifestation. Accordingly, seasonal rituals are accompanied by myths which are designed to present the purely functional acts in terms of ideal and durative situations. The impenetration of myth and ritual creates drama. ... What the King does on the punctual plane, the God does on the durative. . . . The pattern is based on the conception that life is vouchsafed in a series of leases which have annually to be renewed.³

It would be difficult to state more clearly and concisely the central motivating elements of myth than has here been done. The concept that the topocosm needs to be renewed like an annual lease, and that since it exists on the transcendental (durative) level, it can be affected as if in sympathetic magic on the temporal (punctual) level, and finally that it is a living organism amenable to the efforts of man, is both good anthropology and excellent psychology regarding man's parataxic relationship to the numinous element.

In contrast to the void of the numinous element, but in no wise the antithesis of it, stands a conceptualization identified by Gaster (1950) as the "durative topocosm." It would be easy to say that this represents nature, seen in her anthropomorphic aspects, but that is too simple; another partial view would equate this conceptualization

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to the goddess Ceres with all her manifestations of bounty, but even this does not capture the full "durative" aspect. For it embraces not merely the progression of the seasons, and the fecundation of nature, processes which eventuate at a given time and place, but the generative element in these processes which continues as in a procession or ceremony to provide the continual source and origin of what man merely sees as an outcome at a given time and place. It is the numinous clothed and housed in forms which we perceive as natural.

Thus Malinowski (1928:23) says:
 

We can find among the most primitive peoples and throughout the lower savagery a belief in a supernatural impersonal force, moving all those agencies which are relevant to the savage and causing all the really important events in the domain of the sacred. Thus mana (i.o.) not animism is the essence of "pre-animistic religion," and is also the essence of magic. . . .

The durative topocosm is generally celebrated as Sir James Frazer noted in "The Golden Bough"in cults and ceremonies of vegetation and fertility. As in totemism (Malinowski 1968:45) "This ritual leads to acts of a magical nature, by which plenty is brought about" and man by his rites certifies the renewal of the annual lease of the potential bounty of the topocosm.

Malinowski (1968:73) quotes Codrington as saying:
 

This mana is not fixed in anything, and can be conveyed in almost anything. (It) acts in all ways for good and evil . . ., shows itself in physical force or in any kind of power or excellence which a man possesses.

Ultimate reality, in the guise of the durative topocosm, cannot adequately present itself through a language of tensed verbs. Hence it must do so through a metaphor of continual recurrence; we should learn to recognize such usage in myth and fable as signifying the advent of the "spacious present" in which clock time is transcended. Such fables as Sisyphus rolling up the stone, which rolls down again, the Medusa which grows two heads when one is cut off, Brigadoon which keeps appearing one day every hundred years, ghosts which keep haunting a castle on an anniversary, are alike examples of an incident which "occur" in durative time, and which, therefore, seem to keep repeating in ours. A second example of the durative nature of this reality is the fact that mortals immersed in it (in fable) are apt to find that a shorter duration in it amounts to a

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much longer elapse of clock time. Examples which come to mind include Brigadoon, Rip Van Winkle, and many fairy tales.¹⁰
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Myth involves explication of psychic tensions which activate archetypes and dreams, but are now expressed in the ordinary state of consciousness in terms of images. Cassirer (1955:11:25-36) points out the development of image in the parataxic mode as follows:

 
The mythical world is concrete ... because in it the two main factors, thing and signification are undifferentiated. . . . The concresence of name and thing in the linguistic consciousness of primitives and children might be illustrated ... (striking example: name tabus).... But as language develops, distinct from all mere physical existence and all physical efficacy, the word emerges in its own specificity, in its purely ideal significatory function. And art leads us to still another stage of development. . . . Here for the first time the image world acquires a purely immanent validity and truth. . . . Thus for the first time the world of images becomes a self-contained cosmos ... severing its bonds with immediate reality, with material existence and efficacy which constitute the world of magic and myth; it embodies a new step.

Psychic tensions exist in a society as well as in individuals. The parataxic outlet for these tensions in the individual is art; in society it is myth and ritual. Myth of course is an example of the outletting of such tensions: Abell explains (1966:94):
 

Similarly a myth has not only its "active period of psychic eruption and imaginative overflow, but also its subsequent period of extinction and disintegration." A later form of extinct myth will differ greatly from the earlier expression of the active period and may retain little of the tension-imagery.

He continues (1966:96):
 

The action of eruptive and erosive forces in the sphere of the near myth can be observed in the phases through which every artistic movement seems destined to pass. An exploratory or "creative" phase is eventually succeeded by a stereotyped or "academic" phase. Artists, participating in the exploratory phase,
 

... work with feverish intensity and bring forth results that are dazzling, often bewildering and seemingly unreasonable to those who witness their cultural emergence.
 

Hall (1960: 10) points out that from an occult point of view mythologies and mythological characters may have developed from racial memories of super-identities who helped our species become human.

3.42 Examples of Myth¹¹

Henderson (Jung 1964:101) points out that the "hero myth" is the most common and popular in the world. He says:
 

Over and over again one hears a tale describing a hero's miraculous but humble birth, his early proof of superhuman strength, his rapid rise to prominence or power, his triumphant struggle with the forces of evil, his fallibility to the sin of pride (hubris) and his fall through betrayal or a heroic sacrifice that ends in death.

Radin (1948) in Hero Cycles of the Winnebago notes four cycles in the evolution of the hero myth, calling them (1) the trickster cycle, (2) the hare cycle, (3) the red horn cycle, and (4) the twin cycle. The trickster sees his environment as a giver or withholder of good things, and craftily exploits it or appeases it to get what he wants. The hare represents a socialization of the trickster for he cooperates with his group instead of exploiting them. The third cycle Red Horn, is a younger brother who has envious brethren and who proves himself through endurance, thus raising his self-esteem. Finally, the twins are a pair of superhuman brothers who conquer heaven and earth, but finally sicken of their power, and either fall out or one betrays the other, and the death of one ensures. It is very easy to see in this hero myth parallels to the development of self-concept in the growing boy from a solitary exploiter of the world (in the third stage), through socialization in the fourth stage to identification with a brother in the fifth stage. Thus does ontogeny in the individual parallel phylogeny in the species.¹²

Henderson (Jung 1964:130) points out another universal myth that is often found in dreams of adolescent girls who are having difficulty accepting their feminine role as wife and mother. He says:
 

A universal myth expressing this kind of awakening is found in the fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast. The best known version

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of this story related how Beauty, the youngest of four daughters, becomes her father's favorite because of her unselfish goodness. When she asks her father for only a white rose, she is aware only of her inner sincerity of feeling. She does not know that she is about to endanger her father's life and her ideal relation with him. For he steals the white rose from the enchanted garden of the Beast, who is stirred to anger by this theft, and requires him to return in three months for his punishment, presumably death.

As Henderson points out, the rose is the (sublimated) sexual love between daughter and father, a love which really belongs to a younger rival (the Beast), whose bestial aspects personify the rejected overt sex from which Beauty is free as long as she is "daddy's little girl." But as the tale tells us, Beauty is required to make an overt sexual advance (kiss the beast), and when she does so, she finds that he is transformed into a wonderful prince.

A third example of universal myth comes from tribal Africa. In Hahn's book on Africa (1961) "Ntu" is the numinous element, never seen but in its manifestations which are Muntu (man), Nommo (the power of the word) Kuntu (Modes and Styles), and Hantu (culture). All of these are part of the topocosm, that durative world of which our own series of events in space and time is only a shadow.

These three examples of myth account for bravery in males, beauty and charm in females, and the numinous quality found in man and indeed in nature.

3.43 Myth and Animals

Because primitive man lived much closer to the animals than we do and had reason to fear and totemize some of them, it is natural to find that animals play a great part in his myths. Myths about animals fall into three categories: (1) the transformation of man into animal or vice versa, (2) the totemization of a feared animal, and (3) the nagual or animal-twin of individual men. These categories are of course interconnected. They all represent attempts to extract the numinous quality from the animal and incorporate it into the individual (in character) or in society (in totem).

One of the environmental penalties of modern urban life is the estrangement of mankind from the animals. We do not realize this until we revert to the farm in the country or visit a game park. Man in simpler times, whether hunter or agriculturalist, lived on intimate terms with the animals in his habitat. He hunted them, he was hunted by them, he used them, he had them round and often

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in his dwelling, he played with them, lived close to them, and used anecdotes about them in his songs and dances. The importance of animals in the thinking of primitive man can scarcely be exaggerated; it is seen in myth and legend. The importance of animals in the farm life of man during the last millenium can be seen even in the different etymology and plurals of such ancient words as oxen, geese, mice, kine, deer.

One of the most important relationships of man to the animals in the hunting stage was success in finding game upon which sustanence and perhaps life itself might depend. Myth and ritual of the great hunter and the successful hunt thereby came to be very important.

Baumann (1954:149-50) explains the Lascaux Caves hunting magic dance pictures as follows:
 

These dances seem incredibly wild and grotesque. To an outsider the dancers appear to be quite beside themselves. And that is exactly what they are. Their burning desire carries them away while they are still dancing on the trail of the beast on which their thoughts are concentrated. In the dance their souls reach the utmost height of tension. Suddenly they let themselves go as the hunters' hand lets the arrow speed from the taut bow. They fall down; their bodies lie soulless, while their souls which have become arrows ... fly out and strike the beast.

But man was not only the hunter, he was sometimes the hunted. The universality of fear produced psychic tension which gave expression in myth. The prevalence of wolves as the primary predators upon our European ancestors is nowhere more noticeable than in the myth of lycanthropy as a projective defense mechanism. Wedeck (1961:171) tells us: "The werewolf appears in every culture and in every age. The ancients from Homer to Mela, from Varro and Virgil to Apuleius, Stabo, and Solinus testify to the prevalence of lycanthropy." The major predator explanation is reinforced again by Wedeck (1971:171) who points out that while werewolves are confined to Europe,
 

in some countries the change from man to animal involves another creature. In Malaya, for example, the human being changes into a tiger; in Iceland a bear; in Africa a tiger, hyena, or leopard; in India a tiger or leopard.

Let us remember that this fear of the supernatural animal is itself a totemization of an even more irrational fear of demons and monsters which plagued primitive man and is revealed in myth. But if animals

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were first invested with these magic properties of transformation, the fear of them could also be totemized by making the animal a blood brother ("I won't hunt you, and you won't hunt me), and this process eventually led to the myth of nagualism. Let us trace this syndrome in detail.

Abell asks (1966:155):
 

Was belief in the monster myths a useless though spontaneous result of the tensions of Neolithic life or did it perform some positive psychic function? . . . . Freud observes that "the dream relieves the mind like a safety valve, and that as Roberts has put it, all kinds of harmful material are rendered harmless by representation in dreams." No doubt the same could be said about myth.
 

 
The myth centered tribal fears in a being so formidable that no man could be condemned for fearing him; an indirect way of granting the fears a social sanction.

Abell opines that the positive note in religious belief is a developing function in culture, little seen in early man. He states (1966:158):
 

It seems evident that the positive aspects of Neolithic tension imagery were relatively little developed, offering nothing comparable in vividness or intensity to the monsters who swarmed around the negative pole.

According to Salar (1964) a nagual has two definitions; (1) the animal alter ego of an individual, a "guardian-spirit" or "destiny animal" (Middleton 1967:71, who gives many other cites), sometimes with astrological significance. Saler states that some believe in an affinity between the human and animal in regard to character traits and destiny; and (2) that of a transforming witch (akin to our werewolf) who is able to change into animal form in order to do evil at night.

Oakes (1951:170ff) reports that the Guatemalan Indians of the highlands show traces of a belief in nagualism (animal co-spirits for humans). According to this belief each child has a nagual animal and their lives are closely connected. From this it is easy to go to the ability of chimans (shamans) to change at will into animal form, and she relates tales of this sort given by the natives. Whereas the animal form in Europe is generally the wolf (werewolves), the animal form in this location is the coyote. For more on nagualism see Brinton (1894).

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Radin (1927:343) describes how the bear totem affects ceremonial treatment of the captured animal:
 

When a bear is caught, it is treated with all imaginable veneration and respect. First the hunter addresses a few words of apology and explanation to the animal. Then it is killed and dressed up in all the finery obtainable. . . . When a dead bear is dressed up, this is done as an offering or prayer to the chief of the bears, that he may send the Indians more of his children. ... In gratitude for the treatment accorded him, the bear forgives his slayers and enters their traps a willing and fascinated sacrifice.
 

And just as every Red Indian felt he was bound in some special way to some animal, so also did every ice-age hunter. The guardian spirit dwelled in this one animal. Among the Red Indians the animal is called the totem. The ice-age hunter too had his totem animal, and he also tattooed the picture of his animal on his breast.

This process of "totemizing" the fearsome aspects of experience whether found in the natural world or in the numinous is extremely important as it shows how myth was used to reduce fear and irrational dread and to bring the experience into rational consciousness from the trauma with which it was first associated. It is hence necessary to discuss the totemization of myth.

3.44  Totemization of Myth
3.441 General

For a definition of "totem" we go to Malinowski (1928:24-5):
 

Totemism, to quote Frazer's classical definition: is an inanimate relation which is supposed to exist between a group of kindred people on the one side and a spec