the woman from the woods clasped me more closely than before, pressing
her warm lips on mine; and it was as if her long hair fell round us
both, spreading over my eyes like a veil, to hide from them the fair
hill-tops, and the woman who was walking onward to the bright clouds
above.

I was drawn along in the arms of the dark woman, with my blood burning
and my breath failing me, until we entered the secret recesses that
lay amid the unfathomable depths of trees. There, she encircled me in
the folds of her dusky robe, and laid her cheek close to mine, and
murmured a mysterious music in my ear, amid the midnight silence and
darkness of all around us. And I had no thought of returning to the
plain again; for I had forgotten the woman from the fair hills, and
had given myself up, heart, and soul, and body, to the woman from the
dark woods.

Here the dream ended, and I awoke.

It was broad daylight. The sun shone brilliantly, the sky was
cloudless. I looked at my watch; it had stopped. Shortly afterwards I
heard the hall clock strike six.

My dream was vividly impressed on my memory, especially the latter
part of it. Was it a warning of coming events, foreshadowed in the
wild visions of sleep? But to what purpose could this dream, or indeed
any dream, tend? Why had it remained incomplete, failing to show me
the visionary consequences of my visionary actions? What superstition
to ask! What a waste of attention to bestow it on such a trifle as a
dream!