Ship of the Damned by James F. David Read Free Book Online

change was remarkable,” Monica said. “A portable version of this machine could change his life.”
    “That’s an interesting idea,” Len said, coming to stand by Monica. “We could talk about it over coffee?”
    “You can’t let someone walk around with a liquid nitrogen backpack,” Wes said. “Besides, the program isn’t self-monitoring.”
    “We thought at first schizophrenics like Ron would benefit from repeated sessions,” Elizabeth added, “but they always revert. It’s as if their systems can’t be trained to process in any other way.”
    “Or something external is forcing that pattern on them,” Monica said.
    “You told her, didn’t you?” Wes glared at Elizabeth.
    “You can trust Monica,” Elizabeth assured him, smiling.
    “If I understand it,” Monica said, “you’ve identified a small group of schizophrenics who are anomalous. They don’t respond to drug therapy or psychotherapy and they are characterized by peculiar perceptions. You’re pursuing the hypothesis that they are receiving psychic transmissions from somewhere—maybe another solar system.”
    “I know it sounds crazy,” Wes apologized.
    “Not at all,” Monica said.
    “It sounds nuts to me,” Len said, “and I’m part of the project.”
    “It’s creative,” Monica said. “Elizabeth said you were open to new ideas.”
    Now Elizabeth and Monica exchanged looks, and Wes steeled himself for what was coming.
    “Do you know much about dreaming, Wes?” Monica asked.
    “He never dreamed someone as good-looking as Elizabeth would ever go out with him,” Len said.
    “I understand the neurology of dreaming,” Wes said quickly, to stop the chuckling.
    “What about dream interpretation?” asked Monica.
    “It’s nonsense,” Wes said, not caring if he offended Monica. Something was coming and he didn’t care if he discouraged her. “I’ve read Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams, and I don’t accept the idea of manifest and latent content of dreams. If you dream of walking upstairs you’re not dreaming about sex, you’re dreaming about walking upstairs. An umbrella is an umbrella, not a penis.”
    “You said penis,” Len said, then snorted and laughed.
    “Most dreams reflect day-to-day worries and are made up of people you know and everyday events,” Wes continued. “Nothing mysterious about them.”
    “Do you dream, Wes?” Monica asked.
    “Of course.”
    “Ever dream the same dream more than once?”
    “Yes.”
    “How often?”
    “Several times, I suppose.”
    “What would you think about someone who dreams the same dream every night?”
    Now Wes paused, looking for the trap.
    “I don’t know if that’s unusual—”
    “It’s very unusual,” Monica said. “I’ve analyzed dreams as part of my practice for years and I’ve never met anyone who dreams the same dream night after night without variation.”
    “There must be some stressful event in the person’s life that is causing the dream,” Wes said.
    “Not that I can find,” Monica said.
    “You think there’s a neurological cause?” Wes asked.
    “I think the source of the dream is external, just like Ron’s confused perceptions.”
    “Someone dreaming the same dream over and over is interesting, but—”
    “It’s not just one person,” Monica said. “It’s seven.”
    “Then it’s not as unique as you led me to believe,” Wes said, feeling the mystery slip away.
    “You don’t understand. I have identified seven people who dream the same dream every night.”
    Shamita and Len were staring in wonder, and Wes knew he had missed the significance.
    “So they dream the same thing over and over. What leads you to believe the source is external?”
    “You’re not getting it, Wes,” Elizabeth said. “All seven people dream exactly the same dream every night. It’s one dream they all share.”
    “Well, there are many common dreams,” Wes said. “Most people have dreamed of forgetting they have a test at school or a