seven in the morning
Staggering home in this temper , I undressed myself , went to bed with stupid composure , and felt like a wretch that had been stretched on the rack , and , having just been taken off , was suffered to sink into lifeless languor , because he could endure no more . I was mistaken . My sleeping sensations soon became turbulent , oppressive , fevered , terrific , yet cumbrous , and impossible to awake from and escape . It was seven in the morning , when I returned to my lodging . When I went to bed , my heaviness was so great that I seemed as if I could have slept for centuries ; and , so multifarious and torturing were the images that haunted me , that , the time actually appeared indefinitely protracted : a month , a year , an age : yet it was little more than two hours . The moment struggling nature had cast off her horrible night-mares , and I had once more started into identity , the anguish of the past day and night again seized me . Pains innumerable , and intolerable , rushed upon me .