It would not be easy to describe the wild and phantastical incongruities that pestered me.
My uncle, Wieland, Pleyel and Carwin were successively and momently discerned amidst the storm.

Sometimes I was swallowed up by whirlpools, or caught up in the air by half-seen and gigantic forms, and thrown upon pointed rocks, or cast among the billows.

Sometimes gleams of light were shot into a dark abyss, on the verge of which I was standing, and enabled me to discover, for a moment, its enormous depth and hideous precipices.

Anon, I was transported to some ridge of AEtna, and made a terrified spectator of its fiery torrents and its pillars of smoke.
However strange it may seem, I was conscious, even during my dream, of my real situation.

I knew myself to be asleep, and struggled to break the spell, by muscular exertions.