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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Tuesday, 12 September 1916
Woke after the hideous nightmare that I call the “Mislaid MSS.” It may have been too much Chianti, or too many Page and Shaw candies; I have applied the old-fashioned but well-tried and never-failing method—cold pork chops and hot chocolate. There were stories and plays—more wonderful than anything ever— and the MSS. were I didn’t know quite where, and I couldn’t quite remember the names and contents of the MSS. But they had that rich flavour that MSS. only have in dream.
8:30. Slept again several times. The same dream went on, this time with printed Thelema books, and then another small book of about that size, but full of dozens of weird novelettes and essays and dialogues.
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