Maurice Sendak's Nightmare

What I Researched and Why:

After reading Sigmund Freud's "Wolf Man", I became very interested in researching psychological reviews/criticisms of Where the Wild Things Are. After all, if Freud was able to interpret so much from "Wolf Man's" dreams, just imagine what could be found when analyzing Where the Wild Things Are!

However, when I began to conduct research, one topic pushed its way towards the center of my attention. That topic, was dreams. I realized that dreams were and are a very crucial point of interest; that they are too important to be casually brushed aside. Take Freud's "Wolf Man", for example. Freud's defenses for his logic and analysis of the "Wolf Man" stemmed from the "Wolf Man's" dreams. Without the dreams to serve as his "ammo" and evidence, his psychological arguments could have proven much more difficult to persuade the reader. Where would have been the evidence that would support his claims? As any good debater knows, you should always be prepared to back up your argument, and not resort to dogmatic defenses.

But the field of dreams is rather extensive. What should I look for in such a sea of psychology? And then it dawned on me: Go to the source. I wanted to see if I could find a dream from Maurice Sendak himself. I wanted to take a look inside the mind that created Where the Wild Things Are.

What I found:

I found an interview with Maurice Sendak that was done in 2003 by Roger Sutton, Editor from The Horn Book Magazine. Under topics that they discussed, I just so happened to see "nightmares".

This should be the link:

http://www.hbook.com/magazine/articles/2003/nov03_sendak_sutton.asp

I'll post the nightmare also to save everyone from scrolling:

" I had a recurring nightmare when I was a kid — I must have been four-ish — a nightmare about being chased by a very frightening something and my heart is beating out of my chest. In the dream I'm desperate to get the cellar door open, but this thing is right behind me. And I finally turn. And it's my father. And his face is hot on my face and his hands are out: murder. That's all it is: he will kill me. And that went on and on and on. And then just this week, here I am seventy years later, and the dream came back, and even in the dream I was stunned to be dreaming this again! The same thing happened and — this sounds like a TV movie of the week; can't be helped — I did something I never did before. I turned around and there he was, but I stood my ground and his face was so close to mine and his nose was pressing my nose and then I saw that he was laughing — that it was a joke. He wasn't trying to kill me, he was playing with me. Now, does that reach all the way back — like that Gregory Peck movie with Ingrid Bergman, Spellbound — and say, "That's your answer" (seventy years too late, but what the fuck)? I don't think so. I don't think it's an answer to anything. It's probably just a release on my part. I can't claim now that my father really wanted to kill me and that he really hated me."

My interpretation:

Now it's my turn to be Sigmund Freud...

I find this dream very interesting, especially the role of the father. When he was a child, Sendak feared that his father wanted to murder him. How could a child possibly cope with that kind of trauma? As we've talked about in class, Children's Literature is the answer. Children were able to cope with the help of the stories they read. These books brought light to their worlds of darkness.

I'd like to argue that subconsciously, Maurice Sendak coped with his recurring nightmare when he created Where the Wild Things Are. As we read the text, notice how there is no mention of Max's father. We don't know where he is, who he is, or even if he exists (at least in the story world because Max logically has to at least have some father).

But why is there no father, and why is that important? I'd like to argue that Sendak did not mention a father for a psychological reason. Perhaps when he created Where The Wild Things Are, Sendak saw a little bit of himself in Max. Subconsciously, Sendak may not have wanted his "book version" of himself to go through the same nightmare that Sendak had as a child, possibly being murdered by his father. And so how would Sendak ease Max of this trauma? He would do it by not mentioning a father. If there is no father, then there is no one that can murder you. Max would be safe.

I also find the mentioning of the cellar door interesting. It's a pity we don't know where the cellar door would have led to. If that door would have led outside, then we can make a comparison to Max in Where the Wild Things Are. The comparison being that while Sendak wanted to escape his murderer by going outside, Max "escapes" his room and punishment by going/creating outside (the forest, the sea, and Where the Wild Things are) . The fact that Sendak couldn't escape in his dream while Max could is yet another example of Sendak helping the child escape (through transferrence).

Finally, there is the issue of Sendak having the dream again, seventy years later. However, this time, Sendak stood his ground and faced his father. Thanks to this, Sendak finally saw the truth of the dream that used to plague him so long ago. His father did not want to kill him. He was laughing. This was all a joke. His dad could have pretended to be a monster (or maybe a Wild Thing) and was chasing Maurice for fun.

The reason why Sendak stood his ground and faced his father could be that after venting and releasing his troubles in his literature, his mind (consciousness, subsconsious, whatever terms you choose) was finally ready to face its inner trauma. Writing his stories may have been the weapons that Sendak's mind needed to fight back. Nevertheless, even if Sendak only believes this is a release on his part and not "an answer", he can finally put that dream behind him.

What this adds to our discussion:

We've discussed in class that children use literature to help cope with their personal problems. Now we've been given a chance to look inside a child's mind that became a famous writer and illustrator. How do childrens' dreams play out in children's literature? Are they linked to the author? What do they mean? How have the problems of children changed throughout the ages? Are they different, or have they remained fundamentally the same?

Sorry for all the questions, but we should definitely keep all of them "in mind" (how could I not resist a bad psychology pun?) while reading and discussing children's literature. After all, who knows, sometime in the future, if some of us go on to write children's stories, we may do exactly what Sendak and authors have done, whether we know it or not.