PRESERVATION PHOTOCOPY: ORIGINAL MATERIAL RESTRICTED

Dictated February 7, 1925.

Dreamt during night of February 6 - 7

In trying to remember the dream I have the not unusual impression
that a good deal, perhaps a good many incidents, took place before the earli-
est incidents in the dream which I can remember. I remember being between
two bath-houses, and indeed, I think, in a bath-house at a public bathing beach.
I am in a house or between houses at the back of the beach, that is to say, a
good way from the sea and from the beach itself. This public beach is a large
one. I have several difficulties in trying to get ready for my bath. I cannot
now remember what all these difficulties were. I merely believe that among
them was some difficulty with my bathing-suit. I believe that I had/someone
else's suit and had some difficulty in getting my own suit. After that I re-
member starting out from my bath-house hurried, realizing that it was late,
that I would be one of the last to take my bath, and that it was getting colder -
and discovering suddenly that I had on my boots and socks with garters, and hav-
ing to return to my house to remove these. I remember my mother coming to in-
quire when I was coming into the water and to rather carp at me for my delays.
on
My impression is that she had/a black conventional woman's bathing suit. I can
remember finally issuing from my house, and observing upon my right a young man
and a young woman, I think in bathing-suits, reclining on the beach. The young
man I do not remember that I recognized. The young woman appears to be a cross
between Eleanora Grannis and her older sister (not the one who paints). They
seem to look at me and perhaps to speak to me, but I pass them by. In this
connection I remember seeing the older Grannis girl lying not wholly otherwise
upon the beach at Edgartown with a young man who was the Grannis' guest, and
who I either knew or guessed was the betrothed of this Grannis girl.

2

I then remember finding some other people on the sand and being
again impeded by them from going on to the front beach, for these people
were sitting on the sand between bath-houses near my own bath-house. I
rather remember these people making fun of me, but cannot remember what
occurred. At this point I seem to remember two things almost simultan-
eously. I am walking from these people toward the front beach when I
observe, as I say, two things almost at once or so nearly simultaneously
that I cannot remember which came first. I observed that it was raining,
and that I was wearing my winter overcoat and was thus protected from the
rain. Indeed in my befogged dream state this overcoat seemed to make it
possible for me to go on to my bath, though one would hardly suppose an
overcoat would facilitate the bath itself. I arrive on the beach, and on
arriving there remember seeing someone returning from her bath. She is a
rather thin, rather genteel young woman in the thirties. I notice that the
beach is almost empty. I also notice at this moment or later in the dream
(I am not sure) that it is ebb tide, and that for that reason it will
scarcely be possible for me to take my bath. I seem to note that one reason
why everyone was bathing earlier was that it was then high tide. Previously
I had the feeling that they bathed earlier only to avoid the chill of the
water. But then at the beach I saw a little pavilion on the right hand facing
to the sea. I thought it was very fine, and found myself at last going to
Lido, Venice. In this connection I might mention that I dined several
nights ago with a young girl at the Lido Venice, and that I was reminded a
day or two later of the existence of a night club called the Lido, and that
I thought of taking this girl to supper there, possibly to dance, or possibly
some other girl. From the character of the Lido Venice, I gathered that
the Lido Club would be chic. I have only walked a few steps in the direction

3

of this pavilion, which is about one hundred yards away, when I find myself
walking past and indeed over diggings in the sand made by some young people.
I recognize them as a family with whom I was acquainted by the name of von
Weringen. I do not remember how many there were in the group, but I do re-
member the presence of Mr. von Weringen, of two daughters, aged sixteen or
eighteen, and of one son aged about ten or fourteen. The girls are on my
left, perhaps ten feet away, as I walk through the embankments and sand cas-
tles the family have been building. Their bathing-suits, or whatever they
wear, are loose, and in the case of one girl I see her right breast (the
breast which is upon my left) and note that the breast is rather small and
immature and to me attractive. As I think of it now, it reminds me of the
breast of a girl I saw when the Grete Wiesenthal School gave a public dancing
evening in the Conzerthaus in Vienna. The faces of both sisters remind me
of the face of the daughter of Joseph Walker, often candidate for governor
of Massachusetts and other state offices, and always defeated. He and his
wife and daughter and son-in-law had occupied the table next to mine at dinner
the evening preceding this dream. I had dined with my uncle, William Scofield,
who had pointed out the Walkers to me, and would perhaps have spoken to them
if I had not dissuaded him from doing so. This girl had looked about twenty,
and her husband about the same age, and the girl attractive, although I had
not thought of the girl as at all provocative. In this connection I remember
that my mother relates how surprised she and my father were when I came to them
in bed one morning, carrying a copy of The Worcester Spy and reading aloud from
the front page: "Joseph Walker Defeated." My family had not known that I could
read and this was the first evidence they had had of my knowledge. I believe
I was abnormally young at the time. This Joseph Walker was the father of the
Joseph Walker who was candidate for governor of Massachusetts, the elder

4

Joseph Walker having been congressman from Worcester for a great many years, and having been eventually defeated. It is perhaps not beside the point to mention my unusual attraction to Joseph Shirk, the son of Mrs. Shirk, who was the daughter of the same elder Walker, Congressman Walker. I still remember so clearly being asked to guess his age (or now I cannot be sure whether it was his age or that of his brother Albert) when both Shirk boys were at the Worcester Academy and were at our house for Sunday dinner. I was only four or five or six years of age. I think I can remember looking at Joseph's face and eyes and thinking how beautiful he was and guessing his age as sixteen and his saying to me: "You hit the nail on the head that time." I had never heard this expression and did not know what it meant, and I remember that it was explained to me by the Shirk boys and by the family that that was a way of saying I had guessed right. But, as I say, I can remember the eyes and face of Joseph Shirk and thinking how much more beautiful he was than his two year older brother. Nevertheless I cannot be sure that it was not Albert whose age I guessed and who made the remark: "You hit the nail on the head that time."

The family von Weringen, or some member of the family, seems to salute me, or rather to address me, as I pass by, as "Joseph", and I seem to realize that I am Joseph, and that I am indeed (this I realize vaguely, but the word comes to me immediately upon awaking) that I am indeed Joseph of Aramathhea. The "Aramathhea" which is not wholly conscious in the dream is suggested partly by a feeling towards those sounds, and partly by a feeling of wrinkled or wizened quality of face, which now seems to me an aesthetic quality similar to the aesthetic quality of the word "Aramathhea" with its "r" and its "th." I also feel immediately after the dream, and perhaps while still asleep, that this wrinkled or wizened quality was something which was in my face or was going to

5

be in my own face or in the face of Joseph, the husband of Mary, as portrayed
by Rafael in the painting showing the marriage of Mary and Joseph, in which
Joseph is putting a ring on Mary's hand. And I believe that a reproduction
of this picture hung in the room which my mother and I shared. I remember
that in "The Brook Kerith", from which I know most about Joseph of Aramathia,
there is a particularly beautiful description of his early childhood, and of
his being told by his mother that there are no prophets nowadays. He, being a
religious minded child, was unwilling to accept this statement. I might also
mention that, while friendly to Jesus, he never wholly accepted the doctrines
of Jesus, and remained a spectator, not only of Jesus in his adventures, but
also of life in general. I also remember in this connection coming across
the word "polymathy" a couple of days before the dream, and looking it up, and
finding that it came from "poly" meaning "many" and "manthano" meaning "to know."
And I had a month or so previously, while in Bermuda, come across the word
"ara", and had at that time, considering this word "ara", remembered that "ara"
is Latin for "altars." By the assimilation of "polymathy" and "ara", we may
get "ara" or "ari" "math". The "ea" would be a natural ending. Joseph of
Arimathea would then signify "Joseph who knew the altars." This is the easier
to understand because the father of Joseph Walker, that is to say the elder
Joseph Walker, Joseph Walker the Congressman, was the first deacon, I believe,
of the Baptist church where I went as a child, and was anyhow the chief pillar
of that church and the most conspicuous person in it.

I remember that Mr. von Weringen had a small moustache, but I did not,
in so far as I now remember, connect him with any particular individual. Anyhow
I am not now able to describe him further than to say he was middle-aged and
aggressive looking.

The von Weringen boy seemed to attack me in some way, or trip me up in
the sand. In falling I noticed his agreeably freckled face. I think his hair

6

was tawny. He did not seem to do me any great harm, but I felt gêné and irritable
without being able to express my irritation. I might mention that I had thought,
for a moment or two, upon the day preceding, of a young girl whose face and eyes and
hair would be like those of the boy, although in her case the hair is more pro-
nouncedly red, and although she is older than this boy. I now feel that it was
the boy, and not the family in general, who called me "Joseph" in derision, and
that he also called me "Rienzi." This of course is immediately associated with
Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes, and so with one who lived among ruins, and so
tried to resuscitate the past in vain. Also, in leaving off the "zi" one gets
the French word "rien" - a man of nothing. In relation to "Joseph" I should mention
that I received a letter two days before the dream from Trixie Glaser, of Vienna,
and that I had taken her to see Fritzi Massary in "Madame Pompadour," in which play
gccurs the song "O Josef, O Josef!" Perhaps I should also mention that I had seen
this play with Fritzi Massary in it a few month earlier in Berlin in other company.

Of course the sea is one of the best known symbols for the mother,
and, less particularly, for woman in general. In the dream we have an obvious il-
lustration of one part of the nature desiring to come to the mother or woman, and
a deeper stratum impeding this constantly, making fun of it, and emphasizing the
opposite value in life, the value of asceticism, of non-participation, of religion,
and, in the case of the boy attacking me, the turning toward man, homosexualism.
But I seemed not to fall over the boy, but to go on evading him.

or 5

Six weeks before the dream I had seen Earl Carrol's Vanities of 1924,
and there a young chorus girl had been revolved upon a revolving stand with only
a small pinafore on before and nothing on behind, although some threads must have
been about the waist to support the pinafore. The first time I saw this play I was
using my opera glasses and completely missed seeing this girl, as I was watching
the other chorus girls dancing about the revolving stand. I had, however, already
noticed her earlier in the play, and had been rather pleased with myself for

7

finding so attractive in every way, someone who was so definitely a young woman, and not a young girl. I remember my mother when I was a child as being not wholly dissimilar in appearance from this girl, although probably not so monumental, although, of course, to me as a child, she would have appeared at least as monumental as this young woman to me a young man. The fact that she had my mother's complexion and blue eyes and same kind of hair made this apparent to me. I now think that the reason I did not catch with my glasses this exposed female was that I did not desire to see the exposed mother. Anyhow, I went back to the play a night or two later, and saw the girl completely. Since the play then left New York, I had no opportunity to see it again. I now find that it is opening in Newark on Monday, February ninth, and have obtained tickets to go with a friend on Tuesday, February tenth. Last night I noticed a driness and soreness in my throat, and a general indisposition, and awoke this morning to find myself absolutely abimé, and indeed feel so as I dictate this.

In regard to the von Weringen family, I could mention that the man now suggests to my memory the father of two boys who went about the beach at Westerland nude. From my bath chair where I sat reading "Women in Love" in the afternoon, I could see their heads and shoulders and the legs below. the thighs as they walked along the beach, wading in the water, and towing a boat. They were nine or ten or eleven years old. I thought that they were girls and was seized with a fit of trembling, and walked over to find who they were, and was disappointed when I discovered that they were indubitably boys. But I remember how beautifully formed and how attractive they were. I noticed the father sitting in his deck chair holding a toy shovel. And I should mention that, the evening before the dream, immediately before going to bed, I had talked with Mr. McCoomb, who mentioned not caring particularly for "Women in Love." This undoubtedly facilitated my memory of this particular man on the beach at Westerland.

Dictated February 7, 1925.

Dreamt during night of February 4 - 5.

house, or
I seem to emerge from a very high school, or public building. I am now reminded of the exit or the entrance of the school house in Lübeck, which was pointed out to me by Dr. von Erdberg as the one where Thomas Mann went, and which is supposed to have been the school described by him in "Buddenbrooks." I now think it must have been that school. I saw a copy of "Buddenbrooks" (Kenneth Burke's translation) on Miss McMillan's desk the other day, and noted in the biographical note on the inside of the jacket that the publisher wrongly implied that Thomas Mann's mother came from Southern Germany, instead of stating that she was a South American. But the feeling as I emerge from this house is of a large ramshackle one, like the house in which Pelle lives, after coming to Coper in "Pelle the Conqueror." I open the door, which opens in, and Immediately I do so a rather large, very disreputable, and very ragged man pushes right into me, so that I have to avoid being pushed against, strikes at me boldly, and passes down a corridor, turning to his left from the door after entering. This immediately sets the tone of the dream, which is one in which I move in a condition varying between inquietude and extreme terror. I then pass out of the door, and pass through court yards and squares. I seem to relax, perhaps to be told, that everybody is acting out the world of Dostoyevsky, so that everything is in a play by Dostoyevsky. I see about me many children, very pale and thin. Yet these children are of an age to attract me sexually. Yet I feel conspicuous passing among them, so I look askance. I have a feeling that possibly later in the dream bugs or beetles or toys replace the children. I remember the criminal in Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment" being tempted by a young fifteen-year old girl whom he sees naked in his dream. I am not now sure whether it was the man who committed the crime who has this dream or whether it was some other character in the book.

Either earlier in the dream than my exit from the house, through the

2

or later on,
door in question, I seemed to be in a cellar of a house, a cellar not dissimilar
to the one described in the newspapers a few months ago, when a woman's body was
found in the furnace. Her husband was suspected of having killed her, but this
was never proved. I seem to be in fear in this cellar. I seem to be aware of
old overshoes in a barrel by the furnace. I seem to be aware before leaving the
cellar of a woman's head and shoulder coming out of the rubbish. She seems to
be lying on her side. The face reminds me of that of Madame Avis, the wife of
Monsieur Avis. I lived with them in Mentoni studying French for the winter. I
lived with them when I first went abroad a year and a half after my father's
death. Monsieur Avis was very red-faced, and used to say "Dis donc" all the
time, that is to say, he used to quote some friend as saying "Dis donc" to him.
I misunderstood this phrase for "dandon" and thought that perhaps he was called
"Dandon." He was very rude to his wife who was a very nice woman, and who looked
very worn and tired, and seemed to have very little freedom or chance to get
fresh air. I sympathized with Madame Avis, although relishing the more amusing
natural flow of spirits in her more rubicund husband. The fact that in the dream
the face of Madame Avis was chosen certainly shows that not only she as a human
being was needed by the dream symbolism, but also her name, Avis, Warning. Appar-
ently I see in the rubbish this woman's head as a warning, and I feel in the
dream as a criminal and am assimilated to the criminal in "Crime and Punishment"
who kills the old woman. There is apparently the underlying idea that I have
misused my mother and therefore cannot love woman, but can only have unsatisfactory
relationships with children, and must live in constant fear of retribution and in
a neurotic and Dostoyevsky atmosphere.

A couple of days after dictating the above I recall that there is a
scene in either one or the other of these dreams wherein I am walking along a
beach and wherein sand dunes play a part, and wherein I seem to be addressed or
seem to know myself as The or A Sand Witch. This would appear to fit better into

3

the dream which I first dictated and which was the second dream dreamt, but I believe
may have been in the other dream. I cannot now remember. One association to
sand witch is that a man was arrested for molesting, or being suspected of molest-
ing, young boys in Staten Island last year, and it was said that he lived alone
on the beach and did not seem to be quite in his right mind. He was called by
some name, thought—I don't believe the name was Sand Witch. Of course there is a
possible sexual connotation in the name Sand Witch. There is the Sandwitch on
Cape Cod, with the significance of Cape Cod, but without any particular signifi-
cance to the place Sandwitch itself which I would immediately note as fitting into
the dream.

2

I then remember finding some other people on the sand and being
again impeded by them from going on to the front beach, for these people
were sitting on the sand between bath-houses near my own bath-house. I
rather remember these people making fun of me, but cannot remember what
occurred. At this point I seem to remember two things almost simultan-
eously. I am walking from these people toward the front beach when I
observe, as I say, two things almost at once or so nearly simultaneously
that I cannot remember which came first. I observed that it was raining,
and that I was wearing my winter overcoat and was thus protected from the
rain. Indeed in my befogged dream state this overcoat seemed to make it
possible for me to go on to my bath, though one would hardly suppose an
overcoat would facilitate the bath itself. I arrive on the beach, and on
arriving there remember seeing someone returning from her bath. She is a
rather thin, rather gentel young woman in the thirties. I notice that the
beach is almost empty. I also notice at this moment or later in the dream
(I am not sure) that it is ebb tide, and that for that reason it will
scarcely be possible for me to take my bath. I seem to note that one reason
why everyone was bathing earlier was that it was then high tide. Previously
I had the feeling that they bathed earlier only to avoid the chill of the
late afternoon. A good many aspects of the beach suggested the beach at the
Lido, Venice. In this connection I might mention that I dined several
nights ago with a young girl at the Lido Venice, and that I was reminded a
day or two later of the existence of a night club called the Lido, and that
I thought of taking this girl to supper there, possibly to dance, or possibly
some other girl. From the character of the Lido Venice, I gathered that
the Lido Club would be chighe I have only walked a few steps in the direction

3

of this pavilion, which is about one hundred yards away, when I find myself
walking past and indeed over diggings in the sand made by some young people.
I recognize them as a family with whom I was acquainted by the name of von
Weringen. I do not remember how many there were in the group, but I do re-
member the presence of Mr. von Weringen, of two daughters, aged sixteen or
eighteen, and of one son aged about ten or fourteen. The girls are on my
left, perhaps ten feet away, as I walk through the embankments and sand cas-
tles the family have been building. Their bathing-suits, or whatever they
wear, are loose, and in the case of one girl I see her right breast (the
breast which is upon my left) and note that the breast is rather small and
immature and to me attractive. As I think of it now, it reminds me of the
breast of a girl I saw when the Grete Wiesenthal School gave a public dancing
evening in the Conzerthaus in Vienna. The faces of both sisters remind me
of the face of the daughter of Joseph Walker, often candidate for governor
of Massachusetts and other state offices, and always defeated. He and his
wife and daughter and son-in-law had occupied the table next to mine at dinner
the evening preceding this dream. I had dined with my uncle, William Scofield,
who had pointed out the Walkers to me, and would perhaps have spoken to them
if I had not dissuaded him from doing so. This girl had looked about twenty,
and her husband about the same age, and the girl attractive, although I had
not thought of the girl as at all provocative. In this connection I remember
that my mother relates how surprised she and my father were when I came to them
in bed one morning, carrying a copy of The Worcester Spy and reading aloud from
the front page: "Joseph Walker Defeated." My family had not known that I could
read and this was the first evidence they had had of my knowledge. I believe
I was abnormally young at the time. This Joseph Walker was the father of the
Joseph Walker who was candidate for governor of Massachusetts, the elder
has been

4

Joseph Walker having been congressman from Worcester for a great many years, and having been eventually defeated. It is perhaps not beside the point to mention my unusual attraction to Joseph Shirk, the son of Mrs. Shirk, who was the daughter of the same elder Walker, Congressman Walker. I still remember so clearly being asked to guess his age (or no) I cannot be sure whether it was his age or that of his brother Albert) when both Shirk boys were at the Worcester Academy and were at our house for Sunday dinner. I was only four or five or six years of age. I think I can remember looking at Joseph's face and eyes and thinking how beautiful he was and guessing his age as sixteen and his saying to me: "You hit the nail on the head that time." I had never heard this expression and did not know what it meant, and I remember that it was explained to me by the Shirk boys and by the family that that was a way of saying looking at I had guessed right. But, as I say, I can remember a eyes and face of Joseph Shirk and thinking how much more beautiful he was than his two year older brother. Nevertheless I cannot be sure that it was not Albert whose age I guessed and who made the remark: "You hit the nail on the head"

The family of Weringen or some member of the family, seems to salute me, or rather to address me, as I pass by, as "Joseph", and I seem to realize that I am Joseph, and that I am indeed (this I realize vaguely, but the word comes to me immediately upon awaking) that I am indeed Joseph of Aramathæa. The "Aramæa" which is not wholly conscious in the dream is suggested partly by a feeling towards those sounds, and partly by a feeling of wrinkled or wizened quality of face, which now seems to me an aesthetic quality similar to the aesthetic quality of the word "Aramæan" with its "r" and its "th." I also feel immediately after the dream, and perhaps while still asleep, that this wrinkled or wizened quality was something which was in my face or was going to

5

be in my own face or in the face of Joseph, the husband of Mary, as portrayed
by Rafael in the painting showing the marriage of Mary and Joseph, in which
Joseph is putting a ring on Mary's hand, And I believe that a reproduction
of this picture hung in the room which my mother and I shared. I remember
that in 'The Brook Kerith', from which I know most about Joseph of Aramathia,
there is a particularly beautiful description of his early childhood, and of
his being told by his mother that there are no prophets nowadays. He, being a
religious minded child, was unwilling to accept this statement. I might also
mention that, while friendly to Jesus, he never wholly accepted the doctrines
of Jesus, and remained a spectator, not only of Jesus in his adventures, but
also of life in general. I also remember in this connection coming across
the word "polymathy" a couple of days before the dream, and looking it up, and
finding that it came from "poly" meaning "many" and "manthano" meaning "to know.
And I had a month or so previously, while in Bermuda, come across the word
"ara", and had at that time, considering this word "ara", remembered that "ara"
is Latin for "altars." By the assimilation of "polymathy" and "ara", we may
get "ara" or "ari" "math". The "ea" would be a natural ending. Joseph of
Aramathia would then signify "Joseph who knew the altars." This is the easier
to understand because the father of Joseph Walker, that is to say the elder
Joseph Walker, Joseph Walker the Congressman, was the first deacon. I believe,
of the Baptist church where I went as a child, and was anyhow the chief pillar
of that church and the most conspicuous person in it.

I remember that Mr. von Weringen had a small moustache, but I did not,
in so far as I now remember, connect him with any particular individual. Anyhow
I am not now able to describe him further than to say he was middle-aged and
aggressively looking.

6

or 5

Six weeks before the dream I had seen Earl Carrol's "Vanities of 1924,
and there a young chorus girl had been revolved upon a revolving stand with only
a small pinafore on before and nothing on behind, although some threads must have
been about the waist to support the pinafore. The first time I saw this play I was
using my opera glasses and completely missed seeing this girl, as I was watching
the other chorus girls dancing about the revolving stand. I had, however, already
noticed her earlier in the play, and had been rather pleased with myself for

Dictated February 7, 1925.

I seem to emerge from a very high school or public building. I am now reminded of the exit or the entrance of the school house in Lübeck, which was pointed out to me by Dr. von Erdberg as the one where Thomas Mann went, and which is supposed to have been the school described by him in "Buddenbrooks." I now think it must have been that school. I saw a copy of "Buddenbrooks" (Kenneth Burke's translation) on Miss Macmillan's desk the other day, and noted in the biographical note on the inside of the jacket that the publisher wrongly implied that Thomas Mann's mother came from Southern Germany, instead of stating that she was a South American. But the feeling as I emerge from this house is of a large ranshackle one, like the house in which Pelle lives, after coming to Joper in "Pelle the Conqueror." I open the door, which opens in, and immediately I do so a rather large, very disreputable, and very ragged man, pushes right into me, so that I have to avoid being pushed against, strikes at me boldly, and passes down a corridor turning to his left from the door after entering. This immediately sets the tone of the dream, which is one in which I move in a condition varying between inquietude and extreme terror. I then pass out of the door, and pass through court yards and squares. I seem to relax, perhaps to be told, that everybody is acting out the world of Dostoyevsky, so that everything is in a play by Dostoyevsky. I see about me many children, very pale and thin. Yet these children are of an age to attract me sexually. Yet I feel conspicuous passing among them, so I look askance. I have a feeling that possibly later in the dream bugs or beetles or toys replace the children. I remember the criminal in Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment" being tempted by a young fifteen-year old girl whom he sees naked in his dream. I am not now sure whether it was the man who committed the crime who has this dream or whether it was some other character in the book.

Either earlier in the dream than my exit from the house, or through the

3

the dream which I first dictated and which was the second dream dreamt, but I believe
may have been in the other dream. I cannot now remember. One association to
sand witch is that a man was arrested for molesting or being suspected of molest-
ing young boys in Staten Island last year, and it was said that he lived alone
on the beach and did not seem to be quite in his right mind. He was called by
some name, though— I don't believe the name was Sand Witch. Of course there is a
possible sexual connotation in the name Sand Witch. There is the Sand witch on
Cape Cod, with the significance of Cape Cod, but without any particular signifi-
cance to the place Sandwitch itself, which I would immediately note as fitting into
the dream.

I am standing upon the left forward side of a sailing
vessel which is advancing quietly through a fairly calm sea. The
bulwark is between me and the water. Looking over the bulwark I
see coming from behind the ship in a curve, as though this curve if
continued would make a complete circle about the ship, several hun-
dred gray cats bounding lightly along upon the surface of the water.
I am aware of their soft paws which strike so lightly upon the surface
of the sea that the surface texture is not broken through and merely
gives slightly and pneumatically to their weight. The water is thus
as water is under the feet of some insects and as ice or old milling
ice is under the feet of boys running so-called teeter. I take
aesthetic pleasure in the bodies and movements of these cats and not
less in the harmony of grays in them, in the somewhat dark gray of the
sea, and the somewhat lighter gray of the silvery and completely quiet
waves, and should say the sea is gunmetal gray, the cats mouse gray,
the sky pearly gray. The cats continue in their curving direction
until they have come nearly opposite me and are bounding parallel
to the vessel. I am then aware that the sea is becoming rough and
that a stiff wind is blowing and that white capa are everywhere. I
am simultaneously aware that the cats have become sheep and that now
as they jump along their hooves in distinction to the soft paws of the
cats, each time break through the surface of the sea to a distance
of about half the length of their legs. They thus appear to floun-
der as a dog flounders running through soft new fallen snow. The

-2-

curly wool of the sheep and their somewhat awkward, angular and
irregular movements match with the new aspect of the sea. And
perhaps the still gray of the sky is now also broken up into jumb-
led clouds. The thin stick-like legs of the sheep remind me of the
small wooden sheep with bodies pasted with wool and with such small
match-like legs which, in my childhood, we stood upon branches of the
Christmas tree.

I undergo a sensation of imperative need that I should mount
upon the bulwark and dive into the sea. This impulse is as a moral
command. I seem to have the feeling that some sacred object, prob-
ably some sacred animal as for example a sacred wolf or a sacred fox
which we were transporting in this vessel has escaped from it and must
be pursued through the water. I am conscious of fear of the sea
but the feeling of duty triumphs and I do mount upon the bulwark and
dive into the sea. I swim more or less in the same direction as
the sheep, somewhat off the left bow. But I swim under water,
watching the escaped sacred animal. After long exertion and al-
most completely exhausted, I see before me and still in the water
a rusty iron ring about two feet in diameter. Under this ring is
clinging by his teeth the sacred wolf or fox. By him, also clinging
to the ring by his teeth, is a flounder-like fish which I seem to
recognize as a faithful being who has pursued the sacred animal and
at length succeeded in attaching it, as itself, to this ring of sal-
vation. I myself grasp the ring with my hands. The ring appears

-3-

to be drawn up through the water and we are drawn up with it. As we reach the surface, we are drawn through the tumbled, bloated, and bloody bodies of the sheep, some of whom are already drowned and others of whom are in the throes of drowning. The fish may be partly occasioned by the phrase "good skate". The wolf may be partly occasioned by the wolf which nursed Romulus and Remus. The ship suggests the large toy schooner constructed for me and presented to me by Captain Pressy which has such wooden bulwarks.

Am with Auernheimer talking, and feeling tenderness and
pity for this unhappy husband, in a small room in his house. As
the house is not really the apartment of Auernheimer so he himself
is quickly made over into Schnitzler. Neither is the house that
of Schnitzler. We go from the reception room where we were stand-
ing talking, into the hall which is large and has, facing the entrance
doorway of the house, a marble stairway mounting to the first floor.
We stand talking in the middle of this hall and I observe three large
paintings hanging upon the wall facing the entrance doorway of the
house and to the right of the stairway. I observe first the pic-
ture upon the left, that is next to the stairway. There is repre-
sented a man in a long brown mantle not wholly dissimilar to that of
the Pied Piper in my poster. His back is to the spectator and he
appears to be walking away from a walled town, the wall of which is
visible upon the right of the picture and only a few metres behind
the man. He is walking at once away from the wall on the right of
the picture and towards the background of the picture. He seems to
follow a path through vivid green grass in which are small flowers.
I take this path to stand for the "Primrose Path" of which I recall
that R.L. Stevenson said that he had chosen "the Primrose way", but
of R.L. Stevenson I best recall the Requiem and the poem beginning
"In the Highlands" and the poem to T.H. Crossland about the "graves
of the Martyrs". Thus at the very beginning of the individual
revolt is present as overtone the sentiment of loyalty to the dead in
which the dream closes.
The figure of the man in this picture is

-2-

grave and almost bleak. There is in him also a suggestion of the
Lepsius portrait of Stefan George. As the dream occurred soon after
I had knowledge of the death of Lepsius, there seems in this resem-
blance to be a suggestion of the following pictures indicating the
death of the father as the creator of the picture had died. "Reinhold",
the first name of the painter would also be appropriate for the father.
To the left and in the background of the picture is open country and
the picture seems to stand for a title of Schnitzler's novel "Der Weg
ins Freie".

To the right of this picture I then see another painting
of similar size. Here is represented a large male figure, again
clad in a long robe. This seems to be Paul Wegener whom I had seen
in the rôle of Othello in Schnitzler's company a couple of days be-
fore the dream. He is playing the violin and suggests the figure
of Der Tod in Hofmannsthal's Der Tor und der Tod, as seen by me
with von Erdberg in Munich in 1910. The shift from the first pic-
ture to this picture was perhaps made more easy by the resemblance
of the figure in the first picture to the figure resembling Death at
the opening of Thomas Mann's Der Tod in Venedig, where this figure
symbolizes not only Death but also the desire for new environment.
The fact that Der Tod in Hofmannsthal's play comes to reprove the un-
faithful youth shows that still in this picture is present the senti-
ment of tenderness dominating at the opening of the dream and also
present in the first picture.

-3-

To the right of this picture, I now see a third, represent-
ing a bull ring. The bull is in the act of tossing a man. The
body is flimsy as though filled with sawdust and suggests an etching
of Goya where a human sized doll is being tossed upon a sheet. The
bull is furious and impressive and black and rather small than large.
The doll or puppet character of the tossed figure seems to be connect-
ed with the line in Chaucer where the Wife of Bath ejaculates upon
seeing a very large fat man (I think the miller) "O what a poppet to
embrace!". Thus is the slain further degraded as a mere puppet
and plaything for women. The bull has something about its small
energetic form with its large vehement head which suggests Randolph
Crompton, who, having been the bad boy of the Crompton-Thayer Loom
Company and being notorious for his independant and anti-social manner
of life, suits him as being the militant and victorious eagle. There
is also obviously reference through the name of Randolph to Lord Ran-
dolph Churchill as referred to in my review of Mrs. Asquith - "that
bad and petulant boy", - "Randolphus Africanus". This introduc-
tion to the idea Africa, with the further allusion to the Masai of
Africa who subsist on raw blood, further emphasizes the here dominant
material egoism and prepares for the next scene. But here also there
is present as an unheard overtone the abnegation to be dominant at the
close of the dream. "From healthy passion willy-nilly cut off" -
"impotent though it be to excite among the rulers intelligent animos-
ity".

-4-

I am standing upon a quay rather high above the sea. There
is attached to the quay immediately below me a vessel of medium size
and of rather an out-moded design. - probably a sailing vessel and
perhaps with allusion to "Chinese" through similarity to Chinese junk.
Also perhaps a suggestion to the ships of Columbus with him chained
and with the Spanish names. The vessel is full of negroes and I
begin to fear that it may be overcrowded. They seem to swarm all
about, on the decks and even in the rigging. I seem to be standing
with several other people looking down at the vessel. There may be
other ships tied up along the pier also. I seem to be aware of a
blond young woman standing near me, perhaps B.B. The ship appears
to cast off the hawsers preparatory to departure. I seem to know
that it is setting out for Liberia in Africa, that is for freedom.
Here is obviously a reminiscence of an account read by me in a New
York Sunday paper of the movement to return to Liberia of the negroes
after the Civil War and of the unseaworthy ships and of the high rate
of mortality among the adventurers. The fact that I read that many
of the negroes after going into the veldt to live with their race,
returned disillusioned to the settlements to live a semi-European life
there, suggests that here again as an overtone is present the mood of
the end of the dream. The sea became turbulent and I fear for the
safety of the over-crowded and topheavy vessel. Just as it swings
clear of the pier I, in terror over the occupants, seem to throw
some object like a tennis ball at the ship. I seem to have the
feeling that there is enclosed in this ball a message which it is im-

perative

-5-

those sailing away should receive before they go. It is as though
this message were one of warning against some impending danger. The
ball seems to be attached to a thread as a rubber ball may be attach-
ed to an elastic band for a child to bounce it on the floor or side-
walk. The throw falls short and the ball, missing the deck, falls
in the water between the ship and myself. I appear to feel the
hopelessness of the quest. The use of this tennis ball seems to
have as an overtone memory of the scene between Tremont Street and
Washington Street in Boston in my freshman year at Harvard, and the
question "Are you going to play tennis ?".

I seem to be going along an avenue with promenade in the middle between the two chaussées. I seem to be going away from the waterfront into the town. I seem to be walking with B.B. and A. The feeling is rather as of Sunday and we are dressed in Sunday clothes and are stiff. I see coming towards us a negro, also dressed up for Sunday in a Prince Albert and a top hat. I believe he carries also a walking stick. As he is about to pass us he starts to greet us with rather aggressively dignified courtesy, but A. looks at him with such violent scorn as if to recall him to himself and to the proprieties that he breaks together, doubles up and gibbers, hat in hand, most obsequious and slavish excuses and greetings. The first appearance of this negro had suggested that of one of the waiters at Harvard Union who was an usher in the negro Baptist church and whom I had heard compared, because of his physionomy, to a monkey. We walk along this alley between trees and see before us upon the left of the avenue an apparently modern stone Gothic church. I enter, following the ladies. As we start down the aisle, the ladies leading, I seem to hesitate whether to follow them to sit with them in their pew in front or whether I should allow them to sit alone and myself sit in the rear. I seem to expect, walking behind B.B., a sign from her to follow. As no sign is forthcoming and as I receive the impression that the absence of invitation is intentional, I turn in to a pew on the left and sit beside Professor Seligmann who, with silk top hat beside him, is already seated in this pew of which the feeling seems to be that it is "the seat of the mourners". The allusion in the name Seligmann is obvious. He is further appropriate to personate

I am standing upon the left forward side of a sailing
vessel which is advancing quietly through a fairly calm sea. The
bulwark is between me and the water. Looking over the bulwark I
see coming from behind the ship in a curve, as though this curve if
continued would make a complete circle about the ship, several hun-
dred gray cats bounding lightly along upon the surface of the water.
I am aware of their soft paws which strike so lightly upon the surface
of the sea that the surface texture is not broken through and merely
gives slightly and pneumatically to their weight. The water is thus
as water is under the feet of some insects and as ice or old milling
ice is under the feet of boys running so-called teeter. I take
aesthetic pleasure in the bodies and movements of these cats and not
less in the harmony of grays in them, in the somewhat dark gray of the
sea, and the somewhat lighter gray of the silvery and completely quiet
waves, and should say the sea is gunmetal gray, the cats mouse gray,
the sky pearly gray. The cats continue in their curving direction
until they have come nearly opposite me and are bounding parallel
to the vessel. I am then aware that the sea is becoming rough and
that a stiff wind is blowing and that white caps are everywhere. I
am simultaneously aware that the cats have become sheep and that now
as they jump along their hooves in distinction to the soft paws of the
cats, each time break through the surface of the sea to a distance
of about half the length of their legs. They thus appear to floun-
der as a dog flounders running through soft new fallen snow. The

-2-

I undergo a sensation of imperative need that I should mount
upon the bulwark and dive into the sea. This impulse is as a moral
command. I seem to have the feeling that some sacred object, prob-
ably some sacred animal as for example a sacred wolf or a sacred fox
which we were transporting in this vessel has escaped from it and must
be pursued through the water. I am conscious of fear of the sea
but the feeling of duty triumphs and I do mount upon the bulwark and
dive into the sea. I swim more or less in the same direction as
the sheep, somewhat off the left bow. But I swim under water,
watching the escaped sacred animal. After long exertion and al-
most completely exhausted, I see before me and still in the water
a rusty iron ring about two feet in diameter. Under this ring is
clinging by his teeth the sacred wolf or fox. By him, also cling-
ing to the ring by his teeth, is a flounder-like fish which I seem to
recognize as a faithful being who has pursued the sacred animal and
at length succeeded in attaching it, as itself, to this ring of sal-
vation. I myself grasp the ring with my hands. The ring appears

-3-

Am with Auernheimer talking, and feeling tenderness and
pity for this unhappy husband, in a small room in his house. As
the house is not really the apartment of Auernheimer so he himself
is quickly made over into Schnitzler. Neither is the house that
of Schnitzler. We go from the reception room where we were stand-
ing talking, into the hall which is large and has, facing the entrance
doorway of the house, a marble stairway mounting to the first floor.
We stand talking in the middle of this hall and I observe three large
paintings hanging upon the wall facing the entrance doorway of the
house and to the right of the stairway. I observe first the pic-
ture upon the left, that is next to the stairway. There is repr-
sented a man in a long brown mantle not wholly dissimilar to that of
the Pied Piper in my poster. His back is to the spectator and he
appears to be walking away from a walled town, the wall of which is
visible upon the right of the picture and only a few metres behind
the man. He is walking at once away from the wall on the right of
the picture and towards the background of the picture. He seems to
follow a path through vivid green grass in which are small flowers.
I take this path to stand for the "Primrose Path" of which I recall
that R.L. Stevenson said that he had chosen "the Primrose way", but
of R.L. Stevenson I best recall the Requiem and the poem beginning
"In the Highlands" and the poem to T.H. Crossland about the"graves
of the Martyrs". Thus at the very beginning of the individual
revolt is present as overtone the sentiment of loyalty to the dead in
which the dream closes. The figure of the man in this picture is

-2-

-3-

To the right of this picture, I now see a third, represent-
ing a bull ring. The bull is in the act of tossing a man. The
body is flimsy as though filled with sawdust and suggests an etching
of Goya where a human sized doll is being tossed upon a sheet. The
bull is furious and impressive and black and rather small than large.
The doll or puppet character of the tossed figure seems to be connect-
ed with the line in Chaucer where the Wife of Bath ejaculates upon
seeing a very large fat man (I think the miller) "O what a poppet to
embrace!". Thus is the slain further degraded as a mere puppet
and plaything for women. The bull has something about its small
energetic form with its large vehement head which suggests Randolph
Crompton, who, having been the bad boy of the Crompton-Thayer Loom
Company and being notorious for his independent and anti-social manner
of life, suits him as being the militant and victorious eagle. There
is also obviously reference through the name of Randolph to Lord Ran-
dolph Churchill as referred to in my review of Mrs. Asquith - "that
bad and petulant boy", - "Randolphus Africanus". This introduc-
tion to the idea Africa, with the further allusion to the Masai of
Africa who subsist on raw blood, further emphasizes the here dominant
material egoism and prepares for the next scene. But here also there
is present as an unheard overtone the abnegation to be dominant at the
close of the dream. "From healthy passion willy-nilly cut off" -
"impotent though it be to excite among the rulers intelligent animos-
ity".

-4-

I am standing upon a quay rather high above the sea. "Here is attached to the quay immediately below me a vessel of medium size and of rather an out-moded design. - probably a sailing vessel and perhaps with allusion to "Chinese" through similarity to Chinese junk. Also perhaps a suggestion to the ships of Columbus with him chained and with the Spanish names. The vessel is full of negroes and I begin to fear that it may be overcrowded. They seem to swarm all about, on the decks and even in the rigging. I seem to be standing with several other people looking down at the vessel. There may be other ships tied up along the pier also. I seem to be aware of a blond young woman standing near me, perhaps B.B. The ship appears to cast off the hawsers preparatory to departure. I seem to know that it is setting out for Liberia in Africa, that is for freedom. Here is obviously a reminiscence of an account read by me in a New York Sunday paper of the movement to return to Liberia of the negroes after the Civil War and of the unseaworthy ships and of the high rate of mortality among the adventurers. The fact that I read that many of the negroes after going into the veldt to live with their race, returned disillusioned to the settlements to live a semi-European life there, suggests that here again as an overtone is present the mood of the end of the dream. The sea became turbulent and I fear for the safety of the over-crowded and topheavy vessel. Just as it swings clear of the pier I, in terror over the occupants, seem to throw some object like a tennis ball at the ship. I seem to have the feeling that there is enclosed in this ball a message which it is im-

perative

-5-

Entering apparently a side, perhaps transept entrance to
large church. Crowd seems to be entering with me. Apparently a
marriage or funeral or other special service is to take place. Ob-
serve large mosaic - like frescos high up on wall upon my left. I
am standing in what might be a transept. Fresco depicts large
brown nude figures, rather Egyptian in feeling. Observe that upon
my right are seats banked from the middle of the transom to about
three quarters of the way up the right wall. Walk up over these
wooden seats the better to observe from one of the higher seats the
frescos which will then be opposite me and not so high above my head
as to be difficult to envisage. The seats are of new cut pine and
have apparently recently been built up that spectators may from them
the better observe the procession which will presumably enter the
church by this entrance and pass through this transept to the altar.
I stand or sit alone in a seat near the top but not quite at the
top. From there I observe not only the frescos opposite me and
somewhat to my left, since I, in mounting the seats, have advanced
somewhat further away from the altar to near the entrance near which
the frescos are. To the right and in front of me I look from the
transept into the central part of the church, seeing to the right of
this opening into the central part of the church the entire drum of
the cupola, enormous and imposing. I believe I am even aware of
the shafts of light passing from the windows in this drum down into
the church. The church which may at first have been Gothic is now

-2-

obviously Renaissance and suggests the Renaissance church in Pistoia by, I believe, Bramante. But this is indefinite and the suggestion is also that of the Duomo in Florence or of St. Peter in Rome. I should say that later the impression of the size of the church grows and it becomes more like St. Peter. I see therefore at the right of the opening into the church this dome. At the left I see the majestic nave leading away from me towards what must be the main entrance which I cannot see because the wall of the transept opposite me cuts off my view of the nave at this end.

A sort of grand stand where I sit is partially filled, I believe entirely by men. There continues to be a stream of people entering the church through the entrance through which I have come. Of this stream some seem to pass on towards the main of the church and others to themselves mount this grand stand or to be shown up by ushers who stand at the foot of each aisle as at football games in the Harvard stadium. These ushers indeed seem to wear a sort of badge such as such ushers at football games wear. Standing as the ushers stand and a little apart and farther away from the grand stand in the transept and also somewhat to my right, I see my Father and General Shafter in conversation. Fewer people are now coming by and these two men seem to be dignitaries or officers functioning at this solemn function. The figure of General Shafter is vague and might equally be that of Congressman Winslow, - anyhow a large, fat, pompous, middle-aged man. I observe a couple of seats in front of me Francis Butler-Thwing, also Jean Talbot and other such who seem

-3-

to greet me coolly and with restraint and before whom I feel some
controlled embarrassment.

The scene shifts and I am standing upon the ruin or top
of a city wall, as in the Middle Age or in an antique city. I seem
to be standing over one of the gates or entrances through this city
wall into the city. I see before me, looking out from the city
to the country, ruins, deserted houses, streets. I am aware that
the city has shrunk in size and that this wall upon which I stand
now encloses a much smaller city than previously existed here. The
feeling of the place is that the city is now about the size of Flor-
ence and was previously of the size and importance of ancient Rome.
Yet the feeling is also that the city is New York and that I have
returned to it centuries in the future when it has decreased in size.
Thus some of the deserted buildings that I see are rather modern and
American in type, although nothing stands so high as to suggest a
skyscraper. I have observed nearly opposite me but somewhat to
the left, about half a mile away, an enormous, rather delapidated
stone or marble arch which suggests the Arch of Titus in Rome. I
myself here have the feeling that I am standing upon the Arch of
Constantine. This Arch of Titus now stands beyond the ruins and
in almost what is open country. I seem to be aware that this was
the former entrance to the city upon this side and that walls pre-
viously extended from it around the whole city, walls gigantic in

-4-

size, of a piece with the arch itself. I am aware of rolling country beyond the arch and perhaps of some sheep there grazing and tended by shepherds. I am next aware of snow covering the ground a foot or two deep. This is not freshly fallen since footpaths are already made through the snow. I see a man of slight build, of medium size, coming through the Arch of Titus towards me. I perceive that he, instead of following the beaten path which bows somewhat, walks directly as the crow flies, towards me, thus having to walk through the snow. As I watch him coming towards me not without difficulty, floundering in the incipient deep snow, I perceive that he is not walking straight towards me but that he bows to the te-t-e left about as much as the beaten path bows to the right, thus having to go about as far as though following the path and having the additional difficulty of having to walk through un-pathed snow.

The scene fades and my whole consciousness is absorbed in the clearly enunciated sentence: "We ride our fates as monkeys in a circus their horses, with small control."

The Etruscan or Egyptian quality of the frescos sets the note of religious conservatism for the dream. The criticism of self incorporated in the figures of Butler-Thwing, Talbot and Shafter is obvious. The size of Shafter seems not so much a criticism of him and of his Father as an acceptance of the fact that the church and dome suggest the domes of Bramante recalls that von Erdberg pointed out in Florence that the first work of art in a new genre was usually the most completely satisfying in that genre, the reason being that after

-5-

its creation the same artist or other artists are undoubtedly in-
fluenced by its infringement upon their imagination. They thus
either fall deleteriously under its influence or else rebel against
its psychological influence created into something different but not
wholly unprejudiced by the necessity the artist has had to execute
from it all that was in the previous conception. Thus the fact
the time suggests the dome of Bramante implies the first belief or
Weltanschauung is the largest and most worthy and enduring. The
church in Pistoia is appropriate because I entered this church dur-
ing some religious ceremony and against the order of the Suisse.
Thus the association with it in dream amplifies Schuldgefühl. The
suggestion of the arch of Constantine upon which I took my stand is
obvious. The arch of Titus implies that the man coming through
that arch is identical with or like Tito in Romola and of an inferior
nature. He possesses originality yet in the end diverges as much
from the straight line as does the beaten path, and so wastes his
exertion. The fact that I was generally taken to the circus by
my Father and mounted such grand stand seats, not without terror,
and from there observed from the end of the circus and with particu-
lar pleasure the little miserable, squealing, monkeys with their
scarlet jackets and round scarlet caps, mounted terrifiedly upon
enormous muscular horses racing about the arena and with only the
pretence of controlling the horse, is in point. Horse is, of
course, the symbol for Father. I remember a New Year's Eve with
Rex Carey in a Café in New York where from a cracker I extracted a

-6-

pink round paper cap similar in shape and colour as those worn by
the monkeys and put it on the side of my head as the monkeys wore
theirs. Carey said to my pleasure that I looked like the Prince
of Luxemburg. This associates myself with the monkeys and from
the word Luxemburg with luxury and the Lachsenburg recommended by
Hatvany.

-2-

A sort of grand stand where I sit is partially filled. I believe entirely by men. There continues to be a stream of people entering the church through the entrance through which I have come. Of this stream some seem to pass on towards the main of the church and others to themselves mount this grand stand or to be shown up by ushers who stand at the foot of each aisle as at football games in the Harvard stadium. These ushers indeed seem to wear a sort of badge such as such ushers at football games wear. Standing as the ushers stand and a little apart and farther away from the grand stand in the transept and also somewhat to my right, I see my Father and General Shafter in conversation. Fewer people are now coming by and these two men seem to be dignitaries or officers functioning at this solemn function. The figure of General Shafter is vague and might equally be that of Congressman Winslow. - anyhow a large, fat, pompous, middle-aged man. I observe a couple of seats in front of me Francis Butler-Thwing, also Jean Talbot and other such who seem

-3-

-4-

size, of a piece with the arch itself. I am aware of rolling country beyond the arch and perhaps of some sheep there grazing and tended by shepherds. I am next aware of snow covering the ground a foot or two deep. This is not freshly fallen since footpaths are already made through the snow. I see a man of slight build, of medium size, coming through the Arch of Titus towards me. I perceive that he, instead of following the beaten path which bows somewhat, walks directly as the crow flies, towards me, thus having to walk through the snow. As I watch him coming towards me not without difficulty, floundering in the increasingly deep snow, I perceive that he is not walking straight towards me but that he bows to the one to the left about as much as the beaten path bows to the right, thus having to go about as far as though following the path and having the additional difficulty of having to walk through un-pathed snow.

The Etruscan or Egyptian quality of the frescos sets the note of religious conservatism for the dream. The criticism of self-incorporated in the figures of Butler-Thwing, Talbot and Shafter is obvious. The size of Shafter seems not so much a criticism of him and of his Father as an acceptance of the fact that the church and dome suggest the domes of Bramante recalls that von Erdberg pointed out in Florence that the first work of art in a new genre was usually the most completely satisfying in that genre, the reason being that after

-5-

-6-