I awake this morning from a melancholy dream, utterly shaken and suffering. — I dreamed that, for the sake of the two little girls, I had agreed with R. to remarry Hans; correspondence with the latter, wedding in a white dress edged with bright flowers carried out to the strains of Riedel’s choral society, at last the double doors opened, and R., pale, silent, strangely transported, had to leave, convulsively I held him fast, screaming loudly, until I awoke!
— R. says he has often had such dreams—of how I left him, turned back toward him, he with my spectacles in his hand saying, “She is short-sighted, she can no longer see you.” — Domestic cares—but R. works. In the evening read Moltke’s book.