struck the windows of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly 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 darkness. The 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 them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe
something for me which would make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm them.
Such a dream at the present time would become woven into their fears for me.
Tonight I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If 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 sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not slept at all.
2 October 10 P.M.--Last night I slept, but did not dream. I 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 spiritless. I spent all yesterday
trying to read, or lying down dozing. In the afternoon, Mr. Renfield asked if he
might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed
my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much. I am crying
when I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful.
Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the others
were out till dinner time, and they all came in tired. I did what I could to brighten
them up, and I suppose that the effort did me good, for I forgot how tired I was.
After 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 day. I could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something
important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before
they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not
slept well the night before. He 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 aloof. I 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. I might want it.
Here comes sleep. Goodnight.