What Dreams May Come by Richard Matheson Read Free Book Online

asked.
    “You said we’d see him,” Richard said.
    “A drink of water, Richard?” Perry asked.
    I looked at him closely as Richard stood and moved toward the kitchen. What was wrong with him? How could he have been so right, then so completely wrong?
    I turned toward the kitchen, hearing the gurgle of the Sparklett’s bottle being tapped. Why had Richard become involved with Perry in the first place? I wondered. I knew he’d only meant to help but now things were worse than ever.
    Turning back, I sat beside Perry. “Listen,” I said. He didn’t move, hunched over, looking ill. I reached out and touched his arm but he didn’t react.
    “Perry, what’s the matter with you?” I demanded. He stirred uncomfortably. An idea struck me and I repeated the question in my mind.
    He frowned. “Get away from me,” he muttered. “It’s over.”
    “Over?” If I could have throttled him, I would have. “What about my wife? Is it over for her?” Remembering, I repeated my words in thought.
    “It’s over,” he said through clenching teeth. “That’s it.”
    I started to think a further message but, the instant I began, I stopped. He had shut himself off, enclosing his awareness in a carapace of will.
    I looked around as Richard returned and handed Perry a glass of water. Perry drank it in a long, continuous swallow, then sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.”
    Richard gazed at him bleakly. “What about my mother?” he asked.
    “We can try again,” Perry told him. “I’m sure—“
    Richard stopped him with an angry sound. “She’ll never try again,” he said. “No matter what you tell her now, she won’t believe you.”
    I rose and walked away from them. I had to leave; abruptly, that was clear to me. There was nothing more I could do. The thought came overwhelmingly:
    From this moment on, my presence is invalid.
    There is more
    I TRIED TO move away from the house, to go on; somewhere, anywhere. Yet, even though the heaviness was gone, even though I felt immeasurably stronger, I was still unable to break free. There was no way I could leave: Ann’s despair held me in a vise. I had to stay.
    In the instant of my thinking that, I found myself inside the house again. The living room was empty. Time had passed. I couldn’t tell how long though; chronology was beyond my grasp.
    I walked into the family room. Ginger was lying on the sofa in front of the fireplace. I sat beside her. She didn’t even stir. I tried to stroke her head in vain. She slept on heavily. The contact had been broken and I didn’t know how.
    Standing with a defeated sigh, I walked to our bedroom. The door was open and I went inside.
    Ann was lying on the bed, Richard sitting next to her.
    “Mom, why won’t you, at least, allow for the possibility that it might have been Dad?” he was asking her. “Perry swears he was there.”
    “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said. I saw that she’d been crying again, her eyes red, the flesh around them swollen.
    “Is it so impossible?” Richard asked. “I don’t believe it, Richard,” she told him. “That’s all there is to it.”
    Seeing the look on his face, she added, “Perry may have certain powers; I’m not denying that. But he hasn’t convinced me that there’s anything after death. I know there isn’t, Richard. I know your father’s gone and we have to—“
    She couldn’t finish, her voice breaking off with a sob. “Please let’s not talk about it anymore,” she murmured.
    “I’m sorry, Mom.” Richard lowered his head. “I was only trying to help.”
    She took his right hand and held it; kissed it gently, pressed it to her cheek. “I know that,” she murmured. “It was very dear of you but…” Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes. “He’s dead, Richard,” she said after a few moments. “Gone. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
    “Ann, I’m here!” I cried. I looked around in wretched anger. Was