“Perhaps it doesn’t make any difference, in a theoretic fiction. But if you mean that the primary apparatus is real, the idea that it can come first and stand alone seems to imply that it really comes first and really stands alone, not only in the individual but in the universe. That would mean that the universe was built from the bottom upwards.” The Freudian dream-image nodded. “Of course--just the way we build a house.” “But,” I objected, “if we build a house _we_ build it--the house does not build itself. Therefore the house begins with something even higher than its roof. So it is really built from the top down. So is the cosmos, if you will admit that its builder and maker was God. But if I let you build a man from his primary psychic apparatus up, you will be saying next that the universe was built from _its_ primary apparatus up--that is, from a theoretic fiction.” Freud lighted a dream-cigar and sat down. “I’m no worse than the theologians,” he smiled. “They say the universe was created out of nothing.” “What theologian,” I retorted, “ever said that the universe created itself out of nothing? Your own Old Testament suggests that God created the universe out of nothing but Himself.” “And you profess to understand that?” “Certainly not. The beginning and the end are postulated together in one great mystery. But it isn’t a mystery which we invented. We found it here. It is a mystery with force in it--something which goes.” “We are such stuff as dreams are made of,” said Freud. “And dreams come from a suppressed libido.” “So? How about a dog’s dream?” I suddenly asked. “Does that, too, come from a suppressed libido--a suppressed puppy libido? Or is it due to a super-morality restraining a mother-fixation?” “How do you know that dogs dream?” “In the same way I know that you dream. I infer it from the way you act.” “To dream of a dog,” he responded heavily, paraphrasing one of his own pages, “is to dream of the major function--French, _chien_; German, _Chier_.” He had willfully missed the point.