I could not get away from him, for although he left me in peace for days together, I was still bound to him.
In my dreams he lived as my shadow, and thus my fantasy credited him with actions which he did not, in reality, do;
so that in dreams I was absolutely his slave.
I lived in these dreams—I was always a deep dreamer—more than in reality.
These shadowy conceptions wasted my strength and my life force.
I often dreamed, among other things, that Kromer ill-treated me, that he spat on me and knelt on me
and, what was worse, that he led me to commit grave crimes—
or rather I was not led, but simply forced, through his powerful influence.
The most terrible of these dreams, from which I woke up half mad, presented itself as a murderous attack on my father.
Kromer whetted a knife and put it in my hand, as we were standing behind the trees of a lane, and lying in wait for someone—whom I knew not;
but when someone came along and Kromer through a pressure of the arm informed me that this was the man,
whom I was to stab, it turned out to be my father!
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