I looked for this out of print book on Amazon. Â Its price is nearly $1500.
The New Yorker 11.7.2019
When the Nazis came to power, the writer Charlotte Beradt began collecting dreams. What did she learn?
Not long after Hitler came to power, in 1933, a thirty-year-old woman in Berlin had a series of uncanny dreams.
In one, her neighborhood had been stripped of its usual signs, which were replaced with posters that listed twenty verboten words; the first was âLordâ and the last was âI.â In another, the woman found herself surrounded by workers, including a milkman, a gasman, a newsagent, and a plumber. She felt calm, until she spied among them a chimney sweep. (In her family, the German word for âchimney sweepâ was code for the S.S., a nod to the tradeâs blackened clothing.) The men brandished their bills and performed a Nazi salute. Then they chanted, âYour guilt cannot be doubted.â
These are two of about seventy-five dreams collected in âThe Third Reich of Dreams,â a strange, enthralling book by the writer Charlotte Beradt. Neither scientific study nor psychoanalytic text, âThe Third Reich of Dreamsâ is a collective diary, a witness account hauled out of a nationâs shadows and into forensic light.

The book was released, in Germany, in 1966; an English translation, by Adriane Gottwald, was published two years later but has since fallen out of print. (Despite ongoing interest from publishers, no one has been able to find Beradtâs heir, who holds the rights.) But the book deserves revisiting, not just because we see echoes today of the populism, racism, and taste for surveillance that were part of Beradtâs time but because thereâs nothing else like it in the literature of the Holocaust. âThese dreamsâthese diaries of the nightâwere conceived independently of their authorsâ conscious will,â Beradt writes. âThey were, so to speak, dictated to them by dictatorship.â
Beradtâwho was born Charlotte Aron, in Forst, a town near the German-Polish borderâwas a Jewish journalist. She was based in Berlin when Hitler became Chancellor, in 1933. That year, she was barred from publishing her work, and she and her husband, Heinz Pol, were arrested during the mass roundups of Communists that followed the passage of the Reichstag Fire Decree. After her release, she began secretly recording the dreams of her fellow-Germans. For six years, as German Jews lost their homes, their jobs, and their rights, Beradt continued making notes. By 1939, sheâd gathered three hundred dreams. The project was risky, not least because she was known to the regime. Pol, who once worked for Vossische Zeitung, Germanyâs leading liberal newspaper, soon fled to Prague, and Beradt eventually moved in with her future husband, the writer and lawyer Martin Beradt.
The Beradts lived in Charlottenburgâa largely Jewish suburb of Berlin, which was home to figures such as Walter Benjamin and Charlotte Salomonâand the dreams Beradt gathered reflect the areaâs secular, middle-class milieu. âEnthusiastic âyes menâ or people who drew some advantage from the regime were not readily accessible to me,â Beradt writes. âI asked a dressmaker, neighbor, aunt, milkman, friendâgenerally without revealing my purpose, for I wanted the most candid and unaffected responses possible.â Her friends included a doctor who âunobtrusivelyâ canvassed patients in his large practice.
To protect herself and those she interviewed, Beradt hid her transcripts inside bookbindings and then shelved them in her private library. She disguised political figures, turning dreams of Hitler, Göring, and Goebbels into âfamily anecdotesâ about Uncles Hans, Gustav, and Gerhard. Once book burnings and home searches became fixtures of state control, Beradt mailed her notes to friends overseas. In 1939, she and Martin left Germany and eventually arrived in New York, as refugees. They settled on West End Avenue, and their apartment became a gathering place for fellow-Ă©migrĂ©s, such as Hannah Arendt (for whom Beradt translated five political essays), Heinrich BlĂŒcher, and the painter Carl Heidenreich. In 1966, after retrieving her transcripts, Beradt finally published the dreams, in Germany, as âDas Dritte Reich des Traums.â
âThe Third Reich of Dreamsâ unfolds over eleven chapters, arranged by recurring symbols and preoccupations. Epigraphs from Arendt, Himmler, Brecht, and Kafka give ballast to the surreal material that follows, and chapters are titled with emblematic figuresââThe Non-Hero,â âThose Who Actââand gnomic quotes such as âNothing Gives Me Pleasure Anymore.â These headings reinforce the bookâs premise: that the links between waking life and dreams are indisputable, even evidentiary. In an afterword, the Austrian-born psychologist Bruno Bettelheim notes the collectionâs many prophetic dreams, in which, as early as 1933, âthe dreamer can recognise deep down, what the system is really like.â
Like Svetlana Alexievichâs oral histories of postwar Soviet citizens, Beradtâs work uncovers the effects of authoritarian regimes on the collective unconscious. In 1933, a woman dreams of a mind-reading machine, âa maze of wiresâ that detects her associating Hitler with the word âdevil.â Beradt encountered several dreams about thought control, some of which anticipated the bureaucratic absurdities used by the Nazis to terrorize citizens. In one dream, a twenty-two-year-old woman who believes her curved nose will mark her as Jewish attends the âBureau of Verification of Aryan Descentâânot a real agency, but close enough to those of the time. In a series of âbureaucratic fairy talesâ that evoke the regimeâs real-life propaganda, a man dreams of banners, posters, and barracks-yard voices pronouncing a âRegulation Prohibiting Residual Bourgeois Tendencies.â In 1936, a woman dreams of a snowy road strewn with watches and jewelery. Tempted to take a piece, she senses a setup by the âOffice for Testing the Honesty of Aliens.â
These dreams reveal how German Jews and non-Jews grappled with collaboration and compliance, paranoia and self-disgust, even as, in waking life, they hid these struggles from others and themselves. The accounts are interwoven with Beradtâs sharp, unembellished commentary, which is deepened by her own experience of Nazism and emigration. By foregrounding dreams, instead of relegating them to colorful secondary material in a more conventional history, Beradt allows the fantastical details to speak louder than any interpretation. Her book recalls the photomontages of Hannah Höch, in which objects, text, and images from the German media are scissored up and juxtaposed, producing unexpected scenarios that feel all the more truthful for their strangeness.
At times, âThe Third Reich of Dreamsâ also echoes Hannah Arendt, who saw totalitarian rule as âtruly total the moment it closes the iron vice of terror on its subjectsâ private social lives.â Beradt seems to agree with this premiseâshe understood dreams as continuous with the culture in which they occurâbut she also presents dreams as the one realm of free expression that endures when private life falls under state control. Under such conditions, the dreamer can clarify what might be too risky to describe in waking life. Beradt recounts the dream of a factory owner, Herr S., who is unable to muster a Nazi salute during a visit from Goebbels. After he struggles for half an hour to lift his arm, his backbone breaks. The dream needs little elaboration, Beradt writes; itâs âdevastatingly clear and almost vulgar.â In a period during which the individual was reduced either to a parasite or to a member of a faceless mob (âI dreamt I was no longer able to speak except in chorus with my groupâ), dreams offered a rare opportunity to restore a sense of agency.
Beradtâs book does not include any dreams with religious content, and there are no dreams from the Eastern European Jews who lived across town, on Grenadierstrasse and Wiesenstrasseâthat is, the Jews who had already survived pogroms. But these absences do not detract from Beradtâs vivid, indelible details, which deepen our understanding of life during Nazismâs early yearsâa period still overshadowed in the literature by accounts of mass murder and war. Especially novel is Beradtâs study of the many urban womenâJewish and non-Jewishâwho narrate their own (dream) lives. Here is Göring trying to grope a salesgirl at the movies; here is Hitler, in evening clothes, on the KurfĂŒrstendamm, caressing a woman with one hand and distributing propaganda with the other. âThere can be no neater description of Hitlerâs influence on a large sector of Germanyâs female population,â Beradt writes, noting the numbers of women who voted for him and his partyâs calculated manipulation of his supposed âeroticâ power. But the dreams also depict womenâreduced to obedient wives and child-bearers in Nazi propagandaâseeking greater social authority. In one instance, a woman has just been classified by the race laws as one-quarter Jewish. And yet, in a dream, she is led by Hitler down a grand staircase. âThere was a throng of people below, and a band was playing, and I was proud and happy,â she told Beradt. âIt didnât bother our FĂŒhrer at all to be seen in public with me.â

The final chapter of âThe Third Reich of Dreamsâ is reserved for those whoâin their dreams, at leastâresisted the regime (âI dreamed that it was forbidden to dream, but I did anywayâ) and those who were Jewish. Beradt writes that such dreams âconstitute a separate category, just as the Jews themselves were a separate category under the Nazi regimeâ and were the focus of âdirect, not indirect terrorization.â A Jewish doctor dreams heâs the only physician in the Reich who can cure Hitler. When he offers to donate his services, a blond youth in Hitlerâs entourage cries, âWhat! You crooked Jewâno money?â Later, a Jewish lawyer dreams of travelling through icy Lapland to reach âthe last country on earth where Jews are still toleratedââbut a customs official, ârosy as a little marzipan pig,â throws the manâs passport onto the ice. Ahead, unreachable, the promised land shimmers âgreen in the sun.â It is 1935. Six years later, the mass deportations would begin.
In Germany, âThe Third Reich of Dreamsâ was reviewed as âsurprising and gripping evidenceâ and an âimportant historical document.â As the psychoanalyst Frances Lang has noted, itâs strange, then, that Beradtâs book has gone âvirtually unrecognisedâ in America. Perhaps it was difficult for such an idiosyncratic history to compete with the more urgent, straightforward accounts that appeared in the nineteen-sixties. (The book is contemporaneous with both Arendtâs âEichmann in Jerusalemâ and Raul Hilbergâs âThe Destruction of the European Jews.â) And yet there is still time for the collection to enter the canon of Third Reich literature, and perhaps for it to gain wider circulation. Lang, who practices in Boston, learned of Beradtâs work via a footnote in Freudâs âThe Interpretation of Dreamsâ and wrote about it in the Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association. In her own practice, she has noticed a widespread uneasiness following Trumpâs election. She has asked her friends and colleagues to begin collecting dreams.





















