Analysis and Exile: Boyhood, Loss, and the Lessons of Anna Freud

'When my father was a little boy in Vienna, he told Anna Freud this dream: He is walking on the rim of the white gravel path that leads around the oval pond in the upper part of the Belvedere Gardens. The birds are singing, the sun is out ... Then a blue-black machine with a brilliant array of handles and shafts comes into sight ... The machine comes closer and closer ... He calls out for help as loud as he can, but no one comes to rescue him. There is nothing he can do; the machine grinds ...