He believed his subconscious was playing tricks on him, recalling in his sleep the captain’s unwavering hypnotic stare. He ceased struggling and sought to make out the face behind the eyes. He lay very still.

He stared into the depth of the darkness. An image of terror was vague but there! He made out a misshapen head with no distinguishable features, known yet unknown. He believed that the horror which had seemed a dream was not a dream but reality! The thought brought superhuman strength to his limbs and he tried to break the invisible bonds that held him to the bed while the misshapen head hovered directly above him. His lips moved but no sound came. A sweet, sickening odor filled his nostrils. He threw back his head, gasping from the overpowering scent and his efforts to break away. He twisted, squirmed, seeking escape.

Madness possessed him and he found that he had the strength to heave his body forward. His eyes bulged in their sockets as he sought to raise his hands from the bedsheets to strike back at whatever was above him. He succeeded in lifting his hands and, fighting for breath, tried to protect himself. Words poured forth from his lips for the first time. He did not know what he was saying, nor did he recognize his voice, which was distorted and unnatural. His hands sought to seize the fleshless face!

Suddenly, as if he had broken through a ghostly barrier, he was wide awake. The bedsheets were wringing wet and his breath came in great gasps as he gulped air into his lungs. He was alone in the room. The moonlight made it bright enough to enable him to see that no one was there.

He went to the washbasin and doused his head in cold water. There had been nothing, he told himself savagely.

It had been a dream, prompted by the stories of a man who believed in the supernatural. He had succumbed to them in his sleep, his own imagination giving way to what he had been told. It was an experience he never wanted to go through again.

Everyone dreamed, he told himself, and this one had been a nightmare to end all nightmares.

The room darkened as a cloud passed over the moon. He went to the window and looked out across the saw grass. A chill swept over him, which he attributed to the sudden cooling of the night and not to his fear. The moon emerged and once more the room was filled with ghostly light.

There was nothing to fear from a dream, even a nightmare, he told himself. Yet his heart continued thudding against his chest as he attempted to bring order to his thoughts.

Judging by the height of the moon, he had been asleep all of two hours. He had seen the frightening image in his dream because of the captain’s story of Koví and the horrible drawing. It made little difference whether or not he believed in Koví, he told himself. Known or unknown, real or not real, the monster now lived in his subconscious.

Alec’s heart thudded faster as he accepted this fact. He remained at the window, not wanting to go to bed lest he dream again. He wondered if it were possible to die of fear caused by a dream. Quickly he rid himself of such a thought by dousing his head in water again.