"Richard Matheson - What Dreams May Come" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

sobbing. I felt a desperate need to turn and comfort them. To what avail though? In my dream, they
mourned my death. What good would it do for me to speak if they believed me dead?

I had to think of something else; it was the only answer. The dream would change, they always did.
I walked toward the altar, following the drone of a voice. The minister, I realized. I willed
myself to feel amused. That might be fun, I told myself. Even in a dream, how many men receive the
chance to listen to their own eulogy?

I saw his blurred, gray outline now, behind the pulpit. His voice sounded hollow and distant. I
hope he's giving me a royal send-off, I thought, bitterly.

"He is," said a voice.

I looked around. That man again; the one I'd seen in the hospital. Odd that, of everyone, he
looked most clear to me.

"Haven't found your own dream yet, I see," I told him. Odd, too, that I could speak to him without


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effort.

"Chris, try to understand," he said. "This isn't a dream. It's real. You've died."

"Will you get off that?" I began to turn away. тАв

His fingers on my shoulder once again; solid, nearly pinching my flesh. That was odd too.

"Chris, can't you see?" he asked. "Your wife and children dressed in black? A church? A minister
delivering your eulogy?"

"A convincing dream," I said.

He shook his head.

"Let go of me," I told him, threateningly. "I don't have to listen to this."

His grip was strong; I couldn't break it. "Come with me," he said. He led me to the platform where
I saw a casket resting on supports. "Your body is in there," he told me.

"Really?" I said. My tone was cold. The casket lid was shut. How could he know I was in there?

"You can see inside it if you try," he answered.

Unexpectedly, I felt myself begin to shake. I could look in the casket if I tried. Suddenly, I
knew that.

"But I won't," I told him. I twisted from his grip and turned away. "This is a dream," I said,