"Nina Kiriki Hoffman - Skeleton Key" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hoffman Nina Kiriki)

"Mom," I said. I took her spirit hands. They felt more solid than the door had, warm and dry.
"Mom. Take it easy."
"Is this a dream?" She looked down, saw her own sleeping form. "Yah!" She was still half inside it,
up to the waist. "This had better be a dream!"
I started to cry.
"What is it, baby?" she asked. She rose from her body and hugged me.
"Oh, Mom," I said, leaning into her embrace. I sniffled. Her warmth wrapped me up like a cocoon.
She stroked my back the way she had when I was little and hurt. "What is it?"
"Mom...I'm dead."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said in a soothing voice.
"I'm dead, and it doesn't hurt anymore. I wanted you to know that."
"This is a strange dream," she said.
"Please remember it. Write it down when you wake up. Promise?"
"How binding is a promise made in a dream?" she mused.
"Promise?"
"All right," she said.
"This is what you have to write: 'Tess is dead, but she feels good. She's happy. It doesn't hurt.' "
"That's so sappy, Tess, and on a symbolic level it's quite disturbing. Why should I dream that you're
dead?"
"Because it's not a dream. Mom, I love you. I have to tell Dad now." I reached around her and
turned the key, and she slipped out of my arms and back into her body. Her eyes popped open. She sat
up and turned on the light, then looked around the room, looked right through me.
I went to Dad, but before I could unlock him, Mom shook him awake. "Henry, I've just had the
strangest dream."
He came instantly awake. "What is it, May?"
"I dreamed that Tess was dead."
"What?"
"Wait a minute, I promised to write it down." She picked up the pen and steno pad she kept on the
bedside table, wrote the date: November 1, and, in quotes, "Tess is dead, but she feels good. She's
happy. It doesn't hurt." She showed it to Dad.
"What did we have for supper last night?" Dad said. He rubbed his eyes. He yawned. Then he
glanced at Mom and the steno pad again. "Hmm." He reached for the phone and dialed my number. The
phone rang and rang. "Oh, God," he said faintly. "She's not home."
"Last night was Halloween. Maybe she spent the night at a friend's house."
"May," said Dad. His voice trembled. "Tell me about your dream."

They called the police, who refused to get worked up about it. "Let us know when she's been missing
twenty-four hours."
They sat in the kitchen, wearing bathrobes and drinking instant coffee. "She didn't say how she
died?" Dad asked. He was doodling on Mom's steno pad. "Why? Where?"
"It was just a dream," said Mom.
It was six-thirty a.m. "I'm going to call her next-door neighbor," Dad said, and he did.
Abby wasn't thrilled to wake up so early. I could hear her hungover voice from across the room.
"Maybe she slept over at some guy's house, didja ever think of that? Don't call this number again, I've
already got a splitting headache!" she shrilled, and hung up.
"What guy?" Dad asked into the dead phone.
I didn't know what to do. I could answer all Dad's ques-tions if I used the skeleton key again, but
would that be right? The key hadn't come with instructions beyond basic use. Did it hurt people when I
used it?
Mom seemed to be okay.