Richard Matheson - What Dreams May Come

“People on earth are never alone,” he explained. “There’s always someone as a guide for each individual.”

“You mean you were my- guardian angel? ” The phrase sounded trite but I could think of no other.

“Guide is a better word,” Albert said. “Guardian angel is a concept derived by ancient man. He sensed the truth about guides but misinterpreted their identity because of his religious beliefs.”

“Ann has one too?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Then can’t her guide let her know about me?”

“If she were open to it, yes, easily,” he answered and I knew there was no answer there. She was insulated by her skepticism.

Another thought; this one brought about by the discovery that Albert had been near me for decades: a sense of shame as I realized that he’d been witness to many less than admirable acts on my part.

“You were all right, Chris,” he said.

“Are you reading my mind?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he answered. “Don’t feel too badly about your life. Your flaws have been duplicated in the lives of millions of men and women who are, basically, good.”

“My flaws were mostly to do with Ann,” I said. “I always loved her but, too often, failed her.”

“Mostly when you were young,” he told me. “The young are too involved with themselves to really understand their mates. The making of a career alone is enough to subvert the capacity to understand. It was the same way in my life. I never got a chance to marry because I came across too young. But I failed to properly understand my mother, my father, my sisters. What’s the phrase from that play? It goes with the territory , Chris.”

It occurred to me that he had died before that play was written. I made no mention of it though, still concerned about Ann. “There’s really no way at all I can get through to her?” I asked.

“Perhaps something will develop in time,” he said. “At the moment, her disbelief is an impassable barrier.” He removed his arm from my shoulder and patted my back reassuringly. “She will be with you though,” he said. “Count on it.”

“She won’t have to go through what I did, will she?” I asked, uneasily.

“It isn’t likely,” he answered. “The circumstances are bound to be different.” He smiled. “And we’ll keep an eye on her.”

I nodded. “All right.” I wasn’t actually reassured by his words but forced my thoughts away from the problem for then. Looking around, I told him that he must be quite a gardener.

He smiled. “There are gardeners, of course,” he said. “But not for tending gardens. They require no tending.”

“None?” I was amazed again.

“There’s no lack of moisture,” he told me. “No extremes of heat or cold, no storms or winds, snow or sleet. No random growth.”

“Doesn’t the grass even have to be mowed ?” I asked, remembering our lawns in Hidden Hills and how often Richard, then Ian had to mow them.

“It never grows beyond this height,” Albert said.

“You say there are no storms,” I went on, making myself concentrate on other things besides my concern for Ann. “No snow or sleet. What about people who like snow? This wouldn’t be heaven to them. What about the colors of autumn? I love them. So does Ann.”

“And there are places were you can see them,” he said. “We have all the seasons in their own locations.”

I asked about the flow of energy I’d felt from the tree trunk, grass blade, flowers and water.

“Everything here emits a beneficial energy,” he answered.

The sight of Kate sitting contentedly beside me made me smile and kneel to pet her again. “Has she been here with you?” I asked.

Albert nodded, smiling.

I was about to say something about how much Ann missed her but held it back. Katie had been her inseparable companion. She adored Ann.

“But you haven’t seen my home yet,” Albert said.

I stood and, as we strolled toward the house, I commented on its lack of windows and door.

“There’s no need for them,” he said. “No one would intrude though everyone is welcome.”

“Does everyone live in houses like this?”

“They live as they did on earth,” he answered. “Or as they wished they had lived. I never had a home like this, as you know. I always dreamed about it though.”

“Ann and I did too.”

“Then you’ll have one like it.”

“Will we build it?” I asked.

“Not with tools,” he said. “I built this house with my life.” He gestured toward it. “Not that it was like this when I first arrived,” he said. “Like the rooms of my mind, the rooms of the house were not all that attractive. Some were dark and messy and the air in them was heavy. And, in this garden, mixed among the flowers and bushes were weeds I’d grown in life.

“It took a while to reconstruct,” he said, smiling at the memory. “I had to revise the image of it-the image of myself, that is-detail by detail. A section of wall here, a floor there, a doorway, a furnishing.”

“How did you do it?” I asked.

“With mind,” he said.

“Does everyone have a house waiting for them when they arrive?”

“No, most build their houses afterward,” he said. “With help, of course.”

“Help?”

“There are building circles,” he told me. “Groups of people skilled in construction.”

“By using their minds?”

“Always with mind,” he said. “All things start in thought.”

I stopped and looked up at the house which loomed above us. “It’s so . . . earthlike,” I said.

He nodded, smiling. “We’re not so distant from our memories of earth that we desire anything too novel in the way of dwelling places.” He made a welcoming gesture. “But come inside, Chris.”

We walked into Albert’s home.

MY FIRST IMPRESSION, AS I ENTERED, WAS ONE OF ABSOLUTE REALITY.

The room was immense, beamed and paneled, furnished with impeccable taste-and filled with light.

“We don’t have to worry about ‘catching’ the morning or afternoon sun,” Albert told me. “All rooms get the same amount of light at all times.”

I looked around the room. No fireplace, I thought. The room seemed made for one.

“I could have one if I wished,” Albert said as though I’d voiced the thought. “Some people do.”

I had to smile at the ease with which he read my mind. We’d have a fireplace, I thought. Like the pair of fieldstone fireplaces we had in our home. For atmosphere mostly; they provided little heat. But Ann and I liked nothing better than to lie in front of a crackling fire, listening to music.

I moved to a superbly crafted table and examined it. “Did you make this?” I asked, impressed.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Only an expert could create such a beautiful piece.”

Without thinking, I ran a finger over its surface, then tried to hide the movement. Albert laughed. “You won’t find any dust here,” he said, “since there’s no disintegration.”

“Ann would certainly like that,” I told him. She always liked our house to be immaculate and California being what it is, she always had to do a lot of dusting to keep the furniture polished.

Standing on the table was a vase of flowers-brilliant shades of red, orange, purple and yellow. I’d never seen such flowers. Albert smiled at them. “They weren’t here before,” he said. “Someone left them as a gift.”

“Won’t they die now that they’ve been picked?” I asked.

“No, they’ll stay fresh until I lose interest in them,” Albert said. “Then they’ll vanish.” He smiled at my expression. “For that matter, the entire house would, eventually, vanish if I lost interest in it and left.”