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Mina Harker’s Journal

           Notathingseemedtobestirring,butalltobegrimandfixedasdeathorfate,sothatathinstreakofwhitemist,thatcreptwithalmostimperceptibleslownessacrossthegrasstowardsthehouse,seemedtohaveasentienceandavitalityofitsown. Ithinkthatthedigressionofmythoughtsmusthavedonemegood,forwhenIgotbacktobedIfoundalethargycreepingoverme. Ilayawhile,butcouldnotquitesleep,soIgotoutandlookedoutofthewindowagain. Themistwasspreading,andwasnowcloseuptothehouse,sothatIcouldseeitlyingthickagainstthewall,asthoughitwerestealinguptothewindows. Thepoormanwasmoreloudthanever,andthoughIcouldnotdistinguishawordhesaid,Icouldinsomewayrecognizeinhistonessomepassionateentreatyonhispart. Thentherewasthesoundofastruggle,andIknewthattheattendantsweredealingwithhim. IwassofrightenedthatIcreptintobed,andpulledtheclothesovermyhead,puttingmyfingersinmyears. Iwasnotthenabitsleepy,atleastsoIthought,butImusthavefallenasleep,forexceptdreams,Idonotrememberanythinguntilthemorning,whenJonathanwokeme. IthinkthatittookmeaneffortandalittletimetorealizewhereIwas,andthatitwasJonathanwhowasbendingoverme. Mydreamwasverypeculiar,andwasalmosttypicalofthewaythatwakingthoughtsbecomemergedin,orcontinuedin,dreams. 

           IthoughtthatIwasasleep,andwaitingforJonathantocomeback. 

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