ABSTRACT
I was already midway through the journey of my pilgrimage when one day at eventide, I found myself fatigued by the long road and desirous of shelter. 1 Since I had arrived here through a desire for sleep, after I had said grace and taken and received the nourishment necessary for human life, I recommended myself to the author of all things and betook myself to a bed of troubled rest. Soon thereafter, my senses bound by the weight of sleep, an amazing vision overcame me as a strange, prophetic sign. 2 Even though I am hardly Nebuchadnezzar, Scipio, or Joseph, the secrets of the Almighty are not denied to the more unsophisticated. 3
