There is another adaptation to a want that cannot be realized that is as faulty, at least in so far as health is concerned, as that just described. This consists in the absolute repression of the want. After a temporary conscious entertaining of it, the individual will think of it no more, possibly because it is forbidden, or because the mere thought of its being impossible causes pain. Every thought struggles for expression. Since the conscious mind will not entertain the thought, even in a daydream, it finds lodgment in the unconscious. There it lives an independent existence. It associates with itself other ideas, for example, anything that has a relation to it in any way. Thus, if the want were riches, and if it were a strong desire, anything entailing dealing with money might cause the individual unrest, as silverware, the colour green, banks. The individual might not know the cause of the unrest, however, since the incident with which it was associated, by reason of constant repression, no longer comes to consciousness, and is forgotten as far as recall is concerned. If other wants, the conscious thought of which is painful, have likewise been repressed these; too, may become unconscious, associate other ideas with themselves, and thus tend to destroy the individual's peace. We could understand how all this might occur if we have mastered the points mentioned in the chapter on Night Terrors. Further, the repressed wish may find expression in the shape of physical illness which may be found symbolic of the wish.

Open confession is good for the soul. If we do not or cannot make known our desires to others and obtain either encouragement in going ahead with them or logical sympathy, coupled with a thorough understanding of the matter, then we should at least thresh out the subject with ourselves. Repression is harmful; this applies to sorrows as well as to joys. He is far more apt to be healthy who vents his anger and his laughter than the one who hides them. It may not be polite or otherwise possible at all times to give vent to our feelings, yet the statement holds good. As regards a want which we cannot have realized, instead of refusing to think about it the best thing to do is to force ourselves to think of it. If one does not do so now it may become unconscious, and to bring it to light the services of a medical-psychologist may be necessary, years after, maybe, when one is the victim of fears and whatnot. Experience shows that the mere bringing of these repressed wishes to consciousness, and a little advice by the psychologist, are all that is necessary to cure the individual Incidentally it is worthy of repetition that some people who suffer from definite physical ills, as indigestion, do not get well in spite of treatment; they have a fear of cancer probably, which has once been entertained but, because it is painful to think about, is repressed. Thoughts cannot be hidden else we suffer from them. It is as if the mind realized that one feared certain thoughts; like the dog which growls as long as we show fear but runs away when we take no notice, so with thoughts. Let them come out into the open, and their content be analysed. Once they are properly understood they may then be forgotten without danger of further trouble.

Still another faulty adaptation to a want impossible of attainment, or possible if the individual put forth the effort he is unwilling to give, is to realize attainment by mere imagination, day-dreaming. This requires no work, no self-denial, no struggle. It is the easiest way; and it gives pleasure, temporary maybe, yet while vivid imagination holds its sway the individual is as happy as if the desire were actually true. Possibly he is made more happy, since we all know that our anticipations are often more joyful, than our realizations. However, the dreamer pays the price for his joy, though he may not be conscious of it. We are here referring, of course, to the habitual day-dreamer, one whose days are filled with countless reveries. As before stated, we all have our day-dreams, our castles in the air, but, for many of us they serve to stimulate our achieving what we desire; again, they do not crowd in upon us so often that they detract from our work, our habits, our power to think logically. It is something like taking a cap of tea or coffee at meals. Most people can use one cup at each meal without harm, if the beverage is properly prepared. However, these beverages are not necessary for life; they have no food value other than the cream and sugar added to them; they are used simply because of their drug effects and the sense of warmth and comfort they produce by their heat. But we meet with some people to whom these beverages are distinctly harmful in any amount. Likewise, occasional day-dreams may not particularly harm most of us, if they are properly prepared. The latter means that if they are at all logical, possible of being realized, if they spur to action, if they are moral. Like tea and coffee they are not necessary for life; they give comfort and a sense of well-being; their effects, too, wear away; their food value, so to speak, lies only in whatever worth they may have in making life a little more endurable, in keeping up courage. If, in place of using them occasionally, we use them twice as much, then we are apt to suffer, to continue the metaphor, as if we took the beverages too freely. And like the beverages, there are some people to whom day-dreams are harmful in any amount.

The possible ill effects of habitual day-dreaming are many and varied. It is possible for those so addicted to live in harmony with their fellows, but since the more they dream the more they are apt to feel that actual realization is necessary for their happiness, and to feel that, for no fault of their own, their wish has been denied them, their tendency is to be bitter toward their fellows, especially those who apparently have achieved their desires. The chronic day-dreamer is, also, a person who avoids social intercourse; he finds his pleasures in dreaming, and he prefers to be alone so that his dreams may not be disturbed. Progress is practically impossible without social contact; he who retires into a shell, who avoids his fellows, robs himself of the great education received in the society of others. The same thoughts are constant; at least the imagination rules, and so the imagination becomes hypertrophied while other parts of the brain atrophy from disuse. The fact that the individual has frequent recourse to reveries means, on its face, that he is unable to adequately adjust himself to the world; the hard places are too much for him. Such hard places as he meets in actual life wound him poignantly, for the more he dreams the more sensitive does he become. One who cannot face bravely the trials the world forces one to meet surely can never be a leader; the school of hard knocks is the first school from which every one should hold a diploma. In the dream-world there are no hard knocks, no trials, and the day-dreamer visits it often, especially when things go wrong. Somewhat like the child, he imagines his wishes true, and consequently becomes like a child in thought, word, and act. Furthermore, in time, since a mere flight of the imagination is sufficient to overcome obstacles, the habitual day-dreamer finally comes to think that obstacles met with in real life should be overcome as easily; indeed, that there should be no obstacles to his happiness. This leads to irritability, anger at the slightest impediment to his onward march, and other disagreeable mental features. Added to weak judgment as the result of lack of proper use of the brain, an inability to get along successfully with one's fellows eventually renders him a misanthrepe, a failure, a neurotic. These are but a few general effects; others, that apply to particular cases, we will note later. While most of us look upon day-dreams as being happy, this is not always the case. Sometimes they are employed to picture an unhappy future; in such a case their effects are identical with those of constant worry which, as we know, eventually and surely saps away health and vitality. More often, when they deal with the unhappy, they go backward; they picture "what might have been," the sorrows of the past. These day-dreams bespeak that the individual has adequately adjusted himself only to the point where his day-dreams were founded. Progress is forward, not backward. And as long as one lives in the past there will be no progress. The past is dead; its mistakes cannot be corrected, though we may profit by the mistakes. If we think of the past mistakes in order to prevent future similar ones, all well and good, but it is usually the habit of the day-dreamer who lives in the past to brood over it. By so living he is harming himself, physically and mentally, practically as much as if the sad affair were being re-enacted in reality. Unpleasant thoughts depress mental and physical health; this applies whether or not the thoughts deal with the present, future, or past. Further, when unpleasant scenes occupy the mind the person subjects himself to emotional shocks; if we were able to examine the pulse rate, the respirations, etc., we would find that these showed the changes which accompany fear. The day-dreamer who broods constantly is living in a state of fear, and hence is very apt to suffer mentally and physically. As regards day-dreams which deal with the past, even though these are pleasant, the fact that one frequently indulges in them shows that, mentally at least, he has made little progress. The day-dreams signify that the individual wishes to return to the past, where things; were more to his liking, where there were no hardships, He has left the family circle physically but not mentally. As before stated, progress is forward, not backward. The remembrance of happy days is, of course, something that affords joy to all of us at times, but chronic dwelling upon them steals away from the value of present and future joys. And, usually, we overrate the pleasures of the past, just as we render its sorrows more poignant.

As should be evident, day-dreams may concern themselves with many things. Representing wishes they deal with all such desires as are possible for humans to entertain. They may be moral or immoral, stimulating to success or depressing, happy or unhappy. We can study their effects and their nature best, probably, by considering them at the various periods of one's life, and by noting to what they lead.