I can’t quite remember how I fell asleep last night.  I remember hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield’s room, which is somewhere under this.  And then there was silence over everything, silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out of the window.  All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own.  Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate, so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own.  I think that the digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me.  I lay a while, but could not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again.  The mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to the windows.  The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could not distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognize in his tones some passionate entreaty on his part.  Then there was the sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing with him.  I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears.  I was not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought, but I must have fallen asleep, for except dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when Jonathan woke me.  I think that it took me an effort and a little time to realize where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was bending over me.  My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams.

I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come back.  I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act, my feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed at the usual pace.  And so I slept uneasily and thought.  Then it began to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold.  I put back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was dim around.  The gaslight which I had left lit for Jonathan, but turned down, came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidently grown thicker and poured into the room.  Then it occurred to me that I had shut the window before I had come to bed.  I would have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will.  I lay still and endured, that was all.  I closed my eyes, but could still see through my eyelids. (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