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

twisted from her with a groan. To see my fingers sink into her flesh ...

"Ian, I'm afraid," Ann said.

I turned back quickly to her. The last time I'd seen such a look on her face was on a night when
Ian had been six and disappeared for three hours; a look of helpless, incapacitated dread. "Ann,


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I'm here," I said, "I'm here! Death isn't what you think!"



Terror caught me unaware. I didn't mean that! cried my mind. I couldn't take it back though. The
admission had been made.

I fought against it, straining to repress it by concentrating on Ann and Ian. But the question
came unbidden and I couldn't stop it. What if that man had told the truth? What if this wasn't a
dream?

I struggled to retreat. Impossible; the way was blocked. I countered with rage. So what if I had
thought it? What if I'd considered it? There was no proof of it beyond that brief consideration.

Better. I felt vengeful justification. I began to touch and prod my body. This is death? I
challenged scornfully. Flesh and bone? Ridiculous! It might not be a dreamтАФthat much I could
allow. But it was certainly not death.

The conflict seemed to drain me suddenly. Once more, my body felt like stone. Again? I thought.

Never mind. I thrust it from my mind. I lay down on my side on the bed and looked at Ann. It was
unnerving to lie beside her, face to face, her staring through me like a window. Close your eyes,
I thought. I did. Escape through sleep, I told myself. The evidence isn't in by any means. This
could still be a dream. But God, dear God in heaven, if it was, I hated everything about it.
Please, I begged whatever powers might attend me. Release me from this black, unending nightmare.

To know I still exist!

HOVERING, SUSPENDED, RISING inches, then descending in a silent, engulfing void. Was this the
feeling of prebirth; floating in liquid gloom?

No, there'd be no sound of crying in the womb. No sense of grief oppressing me. I murmured in my
sleep, wanting to rest, needing to rest, but wanting, too, to wake for Ann's sake. "Honey, it's
all right." I must have spoken those words a hundred times before waking.

My eyes dragged open, the lids feeling weighted.

She was lying by my side, asleep. I sighed and smiled at her with love. The dream had ended, we
were together again. I gazed at her face, sweetly childlike in repose. A tired child, a child