One night, Anne dreams about her best school friend, Lies, and she is shot through with guilt at living in comfort and being unable to help Lies in any way. In her dream, Anne sees Lies “clothed in rags, her face thin and worn. Her eyes were very big” (November 27, 1943). This is an accurate description of the appearance of most of the concentration camp inmates, although Anne did not know—and could not have known—Lies’ condition (sadly, ironically, Lies really was in a concentration camp).
The Dutch Festival of Saint Nicholas Day is celebrated with little poems that Anne and her father have written for everybody, and Christmas is marked by the exchange of small gifts. Anne has re-covered from a bad bout of flu and comments that they “are all getting on well together for a change! There’s no quarrelling—we haven’t had such peace in the home for at least half a year” (December 22, 1943).
Anne’s account of her feelings is extremely, almost achingly, honest in the entry for December 24, 1943, when she writes at length about her longing to go outside, to walk about freely, to do the things that young people all over the world do and, above all, to simply “have fun.” This futile wish leads her once again to the sad topic of what she considers to be the inadequacies of her mother, and Anne vows to behave differently when she has children of her own. Anne seems to have expected too much of her mother, who would probably have functioned well enough in normal circumstances, but here—in this horrible situation—Mrs. Frank appears to be almost unable to under-stand her mercurial daughter, a girl of high intelligence and sensitivity. Remember that these are exceptional and dangerous conditions in which the Franks are trying to survive, and Mrs. Frank is just an ordinary, middle-class person with, perhaps, a limited imagination.
Anne mentions the fact that the mere act of writing her thoughts down in her diary has improved her mood a little. She also refers to her father’s phrase “the love of his youth” (December 25, 1943), realizing that her father had confided in her concerning this person the previous year, but then she had not been able to understand “the meaning of his words” because he had to “express his own feelings for once” rather than coping with those of others. Anne adds that her father “has become very tolerant. I hope that I shall grow a bit like him, without having to go through all that [suffering].” This entry reveals Anne’s sensitive awareness of her own faults and her desire to improve herself, as well as showing us Anne’s acute consciousness of the feelings of others.
Anne’s moods continue to swing back and forth between grief, compassion, and guilt. She grieves for the past and for loved ones who are gone, and there is also Anne’s ever-growing compassion for those Jews whose suffering is greater than hers; in particular, she thinks about her girl friend Lies (December 29, 1943). She also feels guilty for having negative feelings about her mother (January 2, 1944). Anne seems to be becoming more aware of what it is that she believes that her mother lacks (January 5, 1944)—namely, a certain sensitivity to the feelings of her lively, moody adolescent daughter, and although this does not really ease Anne’s pain at being misunderstood, it does help her to cope with it.
Anne’s longing for a girl friend (January 5, 1944) is partly fulfilled when, on January 6, 1944, Anne decides to go up to Peter Van Daan’s room and talk to him. Peter is a rather shy boy, two years older than Anne, and it seems that he is not averse to having Anne come and talk to him. Anne, however, is torn between her need for someone to confide in and her fear of seeming to be “too forward,” but she concludes, “Don’t think I’m in love with Peter—not a bit of it! If the Van Daans had had a daughter instead of a son, I should have tried to make friends with her too.”
That night, Anne dreams about a former boyfriend, also called Peter, dreaming about him in a rather romantic way, and she feels certain, upon waking, that “Peter was still the chosen one.” This leads her, in her next diary entry, on January 7, 1944, to relate the history of all her boyfriends at the various stages of her life. We realize here that her relationship with Peter Van Daan compensates for many of the difficulties of her daily life, for Anne writes, “What do I care about the lot of them! Peter belongs to me and no one knows anything about it. This way I can get over all the snubs I receive. Who would ever think that so much can go on in the soul of a young girl?” (January 12, 1944).
After writing rather antagonistically about the faults of the Van Daans, Anne comes to realize that the faults which she sees in them might not necessarily be theirs alone. It is a very perceptive and mature Anne who writes, “Until now I was immovable! I always thought the Van Daans were in the wrong, but we too are partly to blame. We have certainly been right over the subject matter; but handling of others from intelligent people (which we consider ourselves to be!) one expects more insight. I hope that I have acquired a bit of insight and will use it well when the occasion arises” (January 22, 1944).
