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LXIII. Night of 30th July.
A light supper and then at once to bed.
I am about to sit down to table for tea. I am at the head of the table, half bending to sit down and with my right hand I am inviting some invisible person to take a seat. I know that the invisible person is my mother. I am happy, but I still do not see her. Suddenly I see a beautiful white swan on the chair to my right. It is my mother. This seems to me quite natural, and I am very happy. The swan's long white neck and black bill arise proudly with gentle undulating movements. I admire and love him.
On awaking I at once make water. The dream seems inexplicable.
(Later the dreamer spontaneously suggested that this was a bladder dream. In writing down the dream on awakening she underlined the color of the bill, for it seemed to her wrong; but some time later she found that her sleeping memory was more correct than her waking memory, and that a swan's bill really is black.)
LXIV. Same night.
We had been shipwrecked (though I do not know who“we” includes) and I feel that we have had many adventures, which I have forgotten, before we reach a great wall, smooth and slippery, and a man who is drawing me by the hand causes me to slide and fall down into what seems the moat of a fortress. There is, however, no water there; it seems a green terrace; I do not know whether of grass. The descent is perilous; the man, whom I do not sec, is a sailor. I do not think he goes down with me, for I see him no more. I seem to be in the fortress, on the green terrace surrounded by crenellated walls, and at a sort of table is a woman like a school mistress I know; she approaches and says in a half-cold, half-friendly manner, seeing my rather pitiable air,“I am very sorry but we are not allowed to grant anyone the right of asylum here.” At this I exclaim,“Damn!” which seems greatly to scandalize her. I tell her I must inform my husband, who is at another table at the end of the terrace. He is quite unlike real life, very young, i