These unconscious wishes “suffer the same form of annihilation as [do] the shades of the lower region in the Odyssey, who awoke to new life the moment they drank blood.”[62] Shall we then keep them away from blood? That is not the programme. But for the moment Freud merely says:[63] “Nothing can be brought to an end in the unconscious; nothing can cease or be forgotten.” Adding:[64] “I believe that these unconscious wishes are always active and ready for expression--the as it were immortal wishes from the unconscious.” This implies that a wish cannot be deflected, but persists as a desire for its original object--which is totally contrary to reason and common sense, to experience, and to physical science. It is the same as saying that a boy who was looking forward to a Saturday afternoon visit to his grandmother’s grave and was induced to go to the circus instead, would--especially if he suppressed his cemeterial inclination to the point of not telling the fellows about it--straightway forget everything but the circus, and yet be haunted by an unconscious desire for the grave. Nor could anything but a conscious visit to the scene of interment (or to a psycho-analyst) ever set the desire at rest. Such a suppressed, abashed and forgotten but far-from-done-with desire is called a “complex.” There are many complexes, but they all reduce themselves to two, the Œdipus and the Inferiority. Let us pause to consider them before going on to other suppositions. 3. TWO OFT-THWARTED PASSIONS An inferiority complex originates in a blow to our self-love, to our sense of personal regard. And as Dr. McDougall is the most eminent godfather of this instinct, we had better go to him for a working example. A famous architect visits his alma mater after many years of successful post-graduate life. Suddenly he begins knocking men down right and left, shouting, and trying to climb over the head of the bed in spite of the efforts of three attendants to hold him within bounds. An old-fashioned expert would have pronounced him a paranoic, a megalomaniac, or something equally disagreeable. But Jung, McDougall’s one-time co-worker, was called in. He said that it was only a case of schizophrenia, and that what the patient needed was--not a straight-jacket but a quiz.