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

right. Don't be afraid. I love you, Ann. Where are you?

That instant, I was home. It was Sunday evening. All of us were in the family room, talking and
laughing. Ann was next to me, Ian beside her. Richard next to Ian, Marie on the other end of the
sofa. I had my arm around Ann, she was cuddled against me. She was warm and I kissed her cheek. We
smiled at each other. It was Sunday evening, peaceful and idyllic, all of us together.


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I felt myself begin to rise from darkness. I was lying on a bed. The pain was back again, all
through me. I had never known such pain before I knew that I was slipping. Yes, the word is
slipping.

Now I heard a ghastly sound. A rattling in my throat. I prayed that Ann and the children were not
around to hear it. It would terrify them. I asked God not to let them hear that horrible noise,
protect them from that horrible noise.

The thought came to my mind then: Chris, you're dying. I strained to draw in breath but fluids in
my windpipe kept the air from passing through. I felt thick and sluggish, trapped in density.

There was someone by the bed. That form again. "Don't fight it, Chris," it told me. I grew angry
at the words. Whoever it was, they wanted me to die. I fought against that. I would not be taken.
Ann! I called to her in thought. Hold on to me! Don't let me go!

Still, I slipped. My body is too badly hurt, I thought in sudden dread. I felt the weakness of it.
Then a strange sensation. Tickling. Odd, I know. Ridiculous. But that was it. All over me.

Another change. It was not a bed I lay on but a cradle. I could feel it rocking back and forth,
back and forth. Slowly, I began to understand. I wasn't in a cradle and the bed was still. My body
was rocking back and forth. There were tiny, crackling noises deep inside me. Sounds you hear when
pulling off a bandage slowly. Less pain now. The pain was fading.

Afraid, I fought to re-establish pain. In seconds, it was back, worse than ever. Agonized, I clung
to it. It meant I was alive. I would not be taken. Ann! My mind cried out, pleading. Hold on to
me!

It was no use. I could feel life draining from me, heard the sounds again, much louder now; the
tearing of a hundred tiny threads. I had no sense of taste or smell. Sensation left my toes, my
feet. Numbness started up my legs. I struggled to recapture feeling but I couldn't. Something cold
was drifting through my stomach, through my chest. It stopped and gathered icily around my heart.
I felt my heart thump slowly, slowly, like a funeral procession drum.

I knew, abruptly, what was happening in the next room. I could see an aged woman lying there, gray
strands of hair across her pillow. Yellow skin and hands like bird claws; cancer of the stomach.
Someone sat beside her, speaking softly. Daughter. I don't want to see this, I decided.

Instantly, I left that room and was in mine again. The pain was almost gone now. I could not