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Vienna, May 1, 1898
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear Wilhelm,
What you said about the two hands of the clock of life again sounds so familiar and self-evident that it must be a fabulous novelty and a marvelous truth. May has come, and so at the end of May I shall hear about it. I feel parched; some spring within me has gone dry and all sensibilities are withering. I do not want to give you too detailed a description lest it sound too much like complaining. You will tell me whether it is old age or just one of the many periodic fluctuations.
I have the impression that you might have determined the sex of your next child, so that this time Paulinchen may well become a reality.
Apparently the book by Schenk has already been published;1 I expect so little of it that I did not try to read it. According to some hints that were dropped in my presence, it is a piece of shortsighted rubbish.
I fancied I knew the date of the birthday better than those who told it to me — which proves that I cannot retain any numbers.
I thank you very much for having been so kind to my old lady. As a result, she came back in high spirits. I always knew that with all your apparent energy, you are one of the most good-natured among all the children of men. You really need not give a thought to Paschkis. The matter deserves nothing better. Nor do I believe that I shall ever regret it. Incidentally, Oscar too spontaneously followed my example.
Enclosed “Caput 3” of the dream. You will find me somewhat unpalatable; I am completely involved in the dream book and completely stupid about it. I have now written the section on psychology in which I had gotten stuck, but I do not like it, nor will it remain. The chapter you have now is stylistically still quite crude and bad in some parts, that is, written without much liveliness. I have left some gaps in regard to the somatic stimuli, which still need to be brought out more sharply. Naturally I expect you to make various vigorous pronouncements about it when we see each