besides," Ritchie said, somewhat too loudly, "it's plain ridiculous. He says—what? We're a dream he's having, right? Okay—then what about our parents, and their parents, everybody who never heard of the kid?"

"First thing I thought of. And you know his answer."

Ritchie snorted.

"Well, think it over, for God's sake. He says every dream is a complete unit in itself. You—haven't you ever had nightmares about people you'd never seen before?"

"Yes, I suppose so, but—"

"All right, even though they were projections of your subconscious—or whatever the hell it's called—they were complete, weren't they? Going somewhere, doing something, all on their own?"

Ritchie was silent.

"Where were they going, what were they doing? See? The kid says every dream, even ours, builds its own whole world—complete, with a past and—as long as you stay asleep—a future."

"Nonsense! What about us, when we sleep and dream? Or is the period when we're unconscious the time he's up and around? And keep in mind that everybody doesn't sleep at the same time—"

"You're missing the point, Hank. I said it was complete, didn't I? And isn't sleeping part of the pattern?"

"Have another drink, Max. You're slipping."

"What will you wake up to?"

"My home. You would not understand."

"Then what?"

"Then I sleep again and dream another world."

"Why did you kill George Sanderson?"

"It is my eternal destiny to kill and suffer punishment."

"Why? Why?"

 Prev. P 5/7 next