preverteer2035's Journal

(It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us,...
(It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine The mist grew thicker and thicker and I could see now how it came in, for I could see it like smoke, or with the white energy of boiling water, pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of the doorIt got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it became concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room, through the top of which I could see the light of the gas shining like a red eyeThings began to whirl through my brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the room, and through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night Was it indeed such spiritual guidance that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was composed of both the day and the night guiding, for the fire was in the red eye, which at the thought got a new fascination for me, till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of StSuddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had seen those awful women growing into reality through the whirling mist in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became black darknessThe last conscious effort which imagination made was to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist

I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason if there were too much of themSeward to prescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm themSuch a dream at the present time would become woven into their fears for meTonight I shall strive hard to sleep naturallyIf I do not, I shall tomorrow night get them to give me a dose of chloral, that cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a good night's sleepLast night tired me more than if I had not slept at all

2 October 10 P-Last night I slept, but did not dreamI must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed, but the sleep has not refreshed me, for today I feel terribly weak and spiritlessI spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down dozingRenfield asked if he might see mePoor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless meSome way it affected me muchI am crying when I think of himThis is a new weakness, of which I must be carefulJonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been cryingHe and the others were out till dinner time, and they all came in tiredI did what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot how tired I wasAfter dinner they sent me to bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the dayI could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something important to communicateI was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before they went I asked DrSeward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the night beforeHe very kindly made me up a sleeping draught, which he gave to me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as it was very mild… I have taken it, and am waiting for sleep, which still keeps aloofI hope I have not done wrong, for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that I may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking

CHAPTER 20
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, evening-I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anythingThe very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected debauchI learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that he was only the assistant of Smollet, who of the two mates was the responsible personSo off I drove to Walworth, and found MrJoseph Smollet at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a saucerHe is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his ownHe remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful dog-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle about the seat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the boxesThere were, he said, six in the cartload which he took from Carfax and left at 197 Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he deposited at Jamaica Lane, shop Bermondsey