9–15 September 1861

Last night a pictorial dream fit for Dante. I read a discourse somewhere to an assembly, and rallied in the course of it to find that I had nearly or quite fallen asleep. Then presently I went into what seemed a new house, the inside wall of which had many shelves let into the wall, on which great and costly vases of Etruscan and other richly adorned pottery stood. The wall it- self was unfinished, and I presently noticed great clefts, intended to be filled with mortar or brick- work, but not yet filled, and the wall which held all these costly vases, threatening to fall. Then I noticed in the centre shelf or alcove of the wall a man asleep, whom I understood to be the architect of the house. I called to my brother William, who was near me, and pointed to this sleeper as the architect, when the man turned, and partly arose, and muttered something about a plot to expose him.