This nightmare struck him so forcibly that he wrote it down later on.
It is one of the papers in his own handwriting which he has bequeathed to us.
We think that we have here reproduced the thing in strict accordance with the text.
Of whatever nature this dream may be, the history of this night would be incomplete if we were to omit it:
it is the gloomy adventure of an ailing soul.
Here it is.
On the envelope we find this line inscribed, "The Dream I had that Night."
"I was in a plain; a vast, gloomy plain, where there was no grass. It did not seem to me to be daylight nor yet night.
"I was walking with my brother, the brother of my childish years, the brother of whom, I must say, I never think, and whom I now hardly remember.
"We were conversing and we met some passers-by. We were talking of a neighbor of ours in former days, who had always worked with her window open from the time when she came to live on the street. As we talked we felt cold because of that open window.
"There were no trees in the plain.
We saw a man passing close to us. He was entirely nude, of the hue of ashes, and mounted on a horse which was earth color.
The man had no hair; we could see his skull and the veins on it.
In his hand he held a switch which was as supple as a vine-shoot and as heavy as iron.
This horseman passed and said nothing to us.
"My brother said to me, `Let us take to the hollow road.'
"There existed a hollow way wherein one saw neither a single shrub nor a spear of moss.
Everything was dirt-colored, even the sky. After proceeding a few paces, I received no reply when I spoke: I perceived that my brother was no longer with me.
"I entered a village which I espied.
I reflected that it must be Romainville.