I am again a pupil at school and I am being conducted to confession along with the other school mates. We stand in a wide, round amphitheater scooped out of the ground. The natural wall rises to a height of about 2 meters, all around. Above it there stands a wonderful temple-like edifice. A monk points to the wet spots upon the earthen walls and compares them to the erotic thoughts, which are also not to be rooted out of the believer’s conscience. I notice a bunch of roots on the wall and involuntarily I think of pudendal hair. The monk condemns asceticism. A dream full of religious meaning. Already in some of the previous dreams the woman “upstairs,” or “above,” was perceived through religious over-determination as mother Mary to whom alone his love belongs and which he therefore must not squander on any earthly woman. He sees his grave which like a _memento mori_ admonishes him to regard this life as a preparation for the next. Woman seems to be here the quintessence of sinfulness. Now we understand why the woman upstairs had a little child by her. It was little Jesus. He has soiled his pure faith. The brain which holds his belief (the earthen wall!) is likewise stained with his sinful erotic thoughts. The great wall surrounding the place to a height of a couple of meters symbolizes all the inhibitions. He himself is the monk, he had a passing desire to become an ecclesiastic, he is a heterosexual ascete.... Last night many dreams of going through urinals. In one urinal he found a man who instead of a _phallus_ had a vagina. Dissolute dreams. Among others a dream that he _podicem lambit_ a friend. He also entertains consciously fancies of like character.... Further dreams of mutual masturbation with a strange man. Finally the scraps of dreams culminate in a lengthier one in which he finds himself in the company of the girl he was very fond of as a boy. The struggle against the heterosexual tendencies goes on throughout the night and finally he is conquered. Obvious resistance against the uncovering of the heterosexual tendencies. One dream out of a large number deserves to be reproduced: _I go on a walk with mother. We are tender with one another and she tells me sweet words. I pluck wonderful anemones from a river and want to make a garland to crown my mother with it. But the petals fall off and only the empty green stems remain in my hand._ Any one familiar with the symbolism of plucking flowers (_vid._ my _Dreams and Sex: The Language of Dreams_, translated by _Dr. James S. Van Teslaar_, Badger, Gorham Press, Boston, 1922, Publisher) will readily recognize that this is a reference to an indulgence of an erotic nature. These love pats lead to empty stems. The love cannot come to blossoms or fruition.