"Richard Paul Russo - Watching Lear Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russo Richard Paul)

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out of the dark and craggy mountains. Another hundred and fifty kilometers
further downstream, the river -- much wider and slower by that point -- emptied
into a vast inland sea. Neither Samuel nor Lear had ever seen the inland sea,
and Samuel was certain they never would. He and Lear would live out the rest of
their lives in this house, never going much farther than the village. They would
die here.

Three people stayed with them at the house, two men and a woman provided by
DivCom to cook and clean and garden and maintain the house, to accompany Samuel
and Lear on shopping trips into the village -- for food and supplies, books and
music, clothing and news capsules B and to go with them on those occasions when
Lear felt the need to spend an afternoon or evening or both in the local tavern
drinking himself into a stupor.

The day Lear dreamed Teresa back to life, Samuel was down by the river, dozing
in the shade of a dense tree. The summer air was still and hot, but in the
shade, so close to the river, it was cool. Samuel was half asleep, and he was
almost dreaming.

A normal dream, a human dream, one that would never manifest in the air above
him, never threaten to come to life. Fragmented and incoherent, the dream images
overlaid the thick and leafy branches above him: red and orange flames, a black
vehicle on fire in the snow .... And then he realized Lear was inside the
vehicle, screaming through the flames and the black smoke and Samuel knew Lear
would be burned alive...

The flames scattered, Lear's face dissolved, then coalesced into Carpentier
staring down at him.

"Wake up!" Carpentier was saying. A member of the DivCom contingent, he did most
of the cooking and cleaning a bit of gardening. Errand boy.

Samuel blinked, pushed at Carpentier's arm. "Go away," he said. He wanted his
dream back, even the awful dream of Lear burning alive. Any dream.

"It's Lear," Carpentier said. "He's dreaming."

"Now?"

"Now." Nodding his head. "He wanted to take a nap." A shrug. "He's an old man."

Then so am I, thought Samuel. Yet it was somehow more true of Lear.

"Hurry!" Carpentier insisted.


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