ABSTRACT
I have always had a very full and busy dream life, much too busy and too worrying for my taste, but to me, at least, interesting in retrospect. As a very young child I used now and then to walk in my sleep, and on the first of these occasions I cannot have been more than three or four years old, for I have only a dim memory of waking in the darkness of a stone-flagged passage a long way from the night nursery, roused no doubt by the coldness of the stones to my bare feet. My frightened screaming must have roused the household, for the next thing I recall is being carried upstairs in my father’s arms.
