Teaching the Dog to Read by Jonathan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

bad heart into his dreams. And anyway, who dreams about having a heart condition?
    “Who’s that?”
    Back to the door, Tony Day didn’t know who Night was talking about. “Who’s who ?”
    Tony Night gestured with his chin toward the door. “ Him .”
    Day turned halfway around in his chair. Standing a few feet away was one of the handsomest men he had ever seen. Movie star handsome with long black hair combed straight back, sharply chiseled features like a 1930’s Fascist statue, and eyes that would make any soul sigh, male or female. The tall man was dressed in a gunmetal gray suit tailored so perfectly to his thin body that it looked like it had been poured onto him. In his hand he held a short fat lit cigar but strangely no smoke came from it, even when he took a puff and exhaled. The end glowed bright orange when he drew on the cigar but not one thread or curl of smoke came off it.
    The guy checked the time on his wristwatch. Tony Day recognized it immediately—a Lichtenberg ‘Figure’. Instinctively Tony looked down at his wrist but his Lichtenberg was still there.
    “Len Fischman.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “My name is Len Fischman.” Another puff on the cigar. Fischman squinted one eye almost closed, as if smoke had gotten into it. But there was no smoke.
    “Who are you? I mean, besides Len Fischman?”
    “Number 43 or 44, I’m not really sure which because I never checked. I didn’t care, you know what I mean?”
    The Tonys glanced at each other, as if one might know what this Len was talking about and could fill the other in.
    “What is—” both of them spoke this at the same time. Tony Day shut up and let his counterpart finish the sentence.
    Tony Night said, “What is 43 or 44?”
    “Incarnation. I came right before you. Sometimes it happens immediately after someone dies, sometimes it can be millennia. You came immediately. Don’t ask me why.”
    When neither Tony said anything and looked baffled by what he had said, Fischman continued with noticeable exasperation at their confusion “ Reincarnation ? Past lives? Come on boys, you can’t be that dense.”
    Still the Tonys remained silent.
    Fischman rolled his eyes, put the cigar out on the floor and slid both hands into his pockets. “When were you born?”
    “March 7.”
    “What year?”
    “1973.”
    “Exactly. Well, on March 6, 1973 I was driving a brand new Porsche I had picked up at the factory in Stuttgart along the Dalmatian Coast with my fiancée Alice—”
    “ Alice , did you say?” Tony Day didn’t like hearing that name of his dream woman coming from this Len Fischman.
    “Yes Tony, Alice . We were supposed to get married in Dubrovnik the next week. We had spent a fine Spring afternoon drinking way too much of a tasty regional wine called Grk and were driving back to our hotel when a large orange truck coming towards us blew a tire and drove right into us. Boys, the next day you were born. Now do you capite?”
    “I’m you, reincarnated?” Tony Day asked incredulously.
    “That is correct. And that is why you have been dreaming about a lovely woman named Alice.”
    “Why are you here?” Tony Night asked. Tony Day was too stunned to say anything.
    “To accompany you over to the other side. It’s a nice system— Whoever preceded you comes back to guide you.” Fischman smirked at the joke he was about to make. “Anyway, you’d have a hard time understanding Gorbog if he came for you.”
    Both Tonys remembered the strange name—it was written on the box that held the can opener in Tony Night’s dream.
    “Who is Gorbog?”
    “The great granddaddy of us all, brother—the first in our blood line. 27,000 years ago Gorbog was born in what is now Russia. You’ll meet him eventually. By then, after you’ve acclimated, you’ll understand him. He’s actually quite chatty. ”
    “But I don’t want to die. I’m not ready.” Tony Day wailed.
    “Me neither,” Tony Night agreed, shooting a hurt look over at Tony Day