But even that failed to convince her entirely that the dream was a thing of imagination.

It seemed so real, that several times before she fell asleep she laid her hands against her face to make sure that her fingers had not developed claws, and that no fur had started to grow on them.
The dreams told around the breakfast-table next morning seemed tame in comparison to Mary's recital the night before.

Rob had had none at all, which was interpreted to mean that he would live and die an old bachelor.

Miles Bradford had a dim recollection of being in an automobile with a girl who seemed to be a sort of a human kaleidoscope, for her face changed as the dream progressed, until she had looked like every woman he ever knew.

They could think of no interpretation for that dream.