The Journals of Barnabas Collins

Progress seems to be a near-impossibility.  Josette escaped once again, and so thorough was her confusion that I had to employ a physical jolt to revive her memory.  The lass hovers between my world and hers, and a tranquil sleep in my own coffin (I can make do in a separate one for the day) is just what’s necessary to rest her weary and confused mind.  I will check upon her after sunset, and the damage should be repaired.

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