… My analysis proceeds and remains my chief interest. Everything is still obscure, even the problems; but there is a comfortable feeling that one has only to rummage inone's own store-room to find, sooner or later, what one needs. The most disagreeable thing are the moods, which often completely hide reality from one. For someone like me, too, sexual excitation is no longer of use. But I am still cheerful with it all. As regards results, just now there is once more a lull.

Do you think that children's speeches in their sleep count as dreams? If so, I can present you with the very youngest of wishful dreams: Little Anna, aged one and a half. She had to starve one day at Aussee because she was sick in the morning, which was put down to a meal of strawberries. During the following night she called out a whole menu in her sleep: ‘Stwawbewwies, wild stwawbewwies, omblet, pudden!’ I may have told you this already.2