With an admirable sense of self-awareness, Anne writes, "If you were to read my pile of letters one after another, you would certainly be struck by the many different moods in which they are written. It annoys me that I am so dependent on the atmosphere here, but I'm certainly not the only one — we all find it the same" (November 8, 1943). She also gives us a very vivid account of her fears and nightmares, remarking that although she talks about the concept of "after the war," ". . . it is only a castle in the air, something that will never really happen." In this, she is being prophetic without even realizing it. Anne's diary entries now begin to show an increasing sense of sadness, desperation, and, occasionally, the loss of hope, although there is an entertaining interlude entitled "Ode to my Fountain Pen: In Memoriam," in which Anne recounts how she received her fountain pen as a gift from her grandmother when she was nine and how it was accidentally burned in the stove that day (November 11, 1943).
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).
