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Bad Gastein, July 21, 1922
Dear friend,
Our formerly so lively correspondence has gone to sleep in the course of the last few years. You write only rarely, and I reply even more rarely. But that is in the spirit of Schiller's words in Wallenstein: That's not necessary between us.1 The practical needs are taken care of through the Rundbriefe, the emotional ones have come to rest in a safe harbor.
Today, on vacation and on a day when my head doesn't want to work, for a change, I gladly write to you again and am letting the letter be until it reaches you securely in your city apartment.
What I am doing here? Working more diligently than in Vienna, but in complete freedom. I am finally reacting to the billions of impressions that I have to take in from ten people, nine hours a day for nine months, naturally not appropriate, otherwise I would have to be able to produce volumes. So far they have become only two essays, which are already out of the house. One is called: Remarks on the Theory and Practice of Dream Interpretation,2 and is a collection of what hasn't found a home in consequence of the unaltered printing of the book;3 the second: Neurotic