1
The psycho-analyst doctor was little and dark and while he was talking he looked not at Mrs. Hilary but down at a paper whereon he drew or wrote something she tried to see and couldn't. She came to the conclusion after a time that he was merely scribbling for effect.
"Insomnia," he said. "Yes. You know what that means?"
She said, foolishly, "That I can't sleep," and he gave her a glance of contempt and returned to his scribbling.
"It means," he told her, "that you are afraid of dreaming. Your unconscious self won't let you sleep.... Do you often recall your dreams when you wake?"
"Sometimes."
"Tell me some of them, please."
"Oh, the usual things, I suppose. Packing; missing trains; meeting people; and just nonsense that means nothing. All the usual things, that everyone dreams about."
At each thing she said he nodded, and scribbled with his pencil. "Quite," he said, "quite. They're bad enough in meaning, the dreams you've mentioned. I don't suppose you'd care at present to hear what they symbolise.... The dreams you haven't mentioned are doubtless worse. And those you don't even recall are worst of all. Your unconscious is, very naturally and properly, frightened of them.... Well, we must end all that, or you'll never sleep as you should. Psycho-analysis will cure these dreams; first it will make you remember them, then you'll talk them out and get rid of them."
"Dreams," said Mrs. Hilary. "Well, they may be important. But it's my whole life...."