I reversed this time-honoured mental exercise; and for some months, noted down what I could remember of the transactions of the mind, during its sleeping hours.
So wild and strange were these records, so eccentric the vagaries of the soul during its nocturnal wanderings, that I was induced to abandon the task, lest some friend hereafter, might examine, the mystic scroll, and conclude that it was written by a maniac.
It happened, that on the present night, I was haunted by a dream of more than ordinary wildness.
I dreamt that I stood in the centre of a boundless plain of sand, which undulated beneath my feet like the waves of the sea.

Presently, I heard the rushing of a mighty wind, and as the whirl-blast swept over the desert, clouds of sand were driven before it, and I was lifted off my feet, and carried along the tide of dust as lightly as a leaf is whirled onward through the air.

All objects fled as I advanced, and each moment increased the velocity of my flight.
A vast forest extended its gloomy arms athwart the horizon; but did not arrest my aerial journey.

The thick boughs groaned and crashed beneath me, as I was dragged through their matted foliage; my limbs lacerated and torn, and my hair tangled amid the thorny branches.

Vainly I endeavoured to cling to the twigs which impeded my passage, but they eluded my frenzied grasp, or snapped in my hands, while my cries for help were drowned in the thundering sweep of the mighty gale.
Onward--onward.