Richard Matheson - What Dreams May Come

I felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “It never crossed my mind that I was taking up time needed elsewhere.”

“Not at all.” He patted my back. “I’ll send someone to continue walking with you. And, while you’re waiting-you asked about water-take my hand.”

I did as he said. “Close your eyes,” he told me, picking up Katie.

The instant I did, I felt a sense of rapid motion. It was over so quickly it might have been imagined.

“You can open them now,” Albert said.

I did and caught my breath. We were standing on the shore of a magnificent, forest-rimmed lake. I looked in wonder at the huge expanse of it, its surface calm except for tiny wavelets, the water crystal clear, each ripple refracting light into spectrum colors.

“I’ve never seen a lake so beautiful,” I said.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, putting down Katie. “I’ll see you later at my house.” He gripped my arm. “Be at peace,” he told me.

I blinked and he was gone. Like that. No flash of light, no indication of departure. One instant, he was there, the next, he wasn’t. I glanced down at Katie. She didn’t seem at all surprised.

I turned to gaze at the lake. “It reminds me of Lake Arrowhead,” I said to Katie. “You remember the condominium we had up there?” She wagged her tail. “It was nice but nothing like this.” There, browning foliage was always visible among the green, debris marred the shoreline and, at times, a mist of smog hovered above the surface of the lake.

This lake was perfection and the forest and air, perfection. Ann would love this, I thought.

It disturbed me that, surrounded by such beauty, I should still be conscious of distress regarding her. Why was I unable to let go of it? Albert had told me repeatedly to do so. Why, then, did this anxiety persist?

I sat beside Katie and stroked her head. “What’s wrong with me, Kate?” I asked.

We looked into each other’s eyes. She did understand; I could doubt it no longer. I almost seemed to sense a wave of understanding sympathy from her.

She lay beside me and I tried to will distress from my mind by thinking of the times we had spent at Lake Arrowhead. Weekends during the year and, for as long as a month at a time during summers, we’d go there with the children. I was doing well in television at the time and, in addition to the condominium, we owned a speedboat, keeping it stored at the North Shore Marina.

Many a summer day was spent on the lake. In the morning, after breakfast, we’d make our lunches, put on bathing suits and drive to the Marina, Katie with us. We’d speed to a favorite cove of ours at the south end of the lake where the children-Richard and Marie, Louise when she and her husband visited-would put on water skis and be towed. Ian was too young at the time so we’d bought him a ski sled which he’d christened Captain Zip. Ann liked to ride it too because she had trouble skiing.

I thought about the sight of Ann lying on that sled, laughing breathlessly as she bounced across the dark, blue waters of the lake. I thought about Ian riding it, grinning with delight, especially when he was able to stand up on it.

For lunch, we’d anchor in the cove and eat our sandwiches and chips and cold soda from the ice chest. The sun would be warm on our backs and I’d take deep, unspoken pleasure watching Ann and our lovely, tanned children as we ate and talked and laughed together.

Happy memories weren’t helping. They made me feel more melancholy knowing those times could never be recaptured. I felt an aching loneliness inside me. I missed Ann so; missed the children so. Why hadn’t I told them, more often, how I loved them? If only we could share this lovely place. If only Ann and I-

I shook myself impatiently. Here I was in heaven, mind you- heaven !-and still brooding. I’d survived death; all my family would survive it. We would, all of us, be together again. What was the matter with me?

“Come on, Kate,” I said, standing quickly. “Let’s take a walk.” More and more, I was beginning to appreciate what Albert had said about the mind being all.

As we began to hike along the shore, I wondered, momentarily, if Albert had meant for me to stay where he’d brought me so this “someone” could locate me. Then, I realized that, whoever the someone was, he’d find me by thinking of me.

There was a beach before us and we started to walk along it. The sand was soft underfoot, no stones or pebbles anywhere in sight.

Stopping, I knelt and picked up a handful of the sand. It was without grit, firm in consistency yet soft to the touch; while undeniably cohesive, it felt like powder. I let some run between my fingers and observed the delicately multicolored granules as they fell. I lifted my hand and looked at them more closely. In form and color, they resembled miniature jewels.

I let the rest fall to the beach and stood. The sand didn’t stick to my palm or knee as it would have on earth.

Again, I had to shake my head in wonderment. Sand. A beach. Deep forest encompassing a lake. Blue sky overhead.

“And people doubt there’s afterlife,” I said to Katie. “I did myself. Incredible.”

I was to say and think that last word many times again; and not only with pleasure .

Moving to the edge of the lake, I stared at it closely, watching the delicate purl of surf. The water looked cold. Remembering the chill of Lake Arrowhead, I put my toes in gingerly.

I sighed as I felt the water. It was barely cool, emitting pleasant vibrations of energy. I looked down at Katie. She was standing in the water next to me. I had to smile. She’d never gone in water in her life; she always hated it. Here, she seemed completely content.

I walked into the lake until the level reached my shins; the bottom as smooth as the beach. Leaning over, I put my hand into the water and felt the energy flowing up my arm. “Feels good, huh, Kate?” I said.

She looked at me, wagging her tail and, once more, I felt a surge of happiness seeing her look as she had in her prime.

I straightened up, a palmful of water cupped in my hand. It shimmered with a delicate glow and I could feel its energy pulsing into my fingertips. As before, when it ran off my skin, it felt no dampness.

Wondering if it would do the same with my robe, I submerged until the water was up to my waist. Katie didn’t follow now but sat on the beach, watching me. I didn’t get the impression she was afraid to follow, simply that she chose to wait.

Now I was immersed in energy and kept walking until the water was up to my neck. It felt like a cloak around me, vibrating subtly. I wish I could describe the sensation in more detail. The best I can say is that it was as though an invigorating, low-watt electric charge were soothing every cell in my body.

Leaning back on impulse, I felt my feet and legs buoyed up and lay in the water, rocking gently, looking at the sky. Why was there no sun? I wondered. It didn’t disturb me; it was more pleasant to look at the sky without a glare to bother the eyes. I was just curious.

Another curiosity struck me. I couldn’t die; I was already dead. No, not dead, that word is the prime misnomer of the human language. What I mean is that I knew I couldn’t drown. What would happen if I put my face beneath the water?

Rolling over deliberately, I looked beneath the surface. It didn’t hurt my eyes to gaze through the water. Moreover, I could see everything clearly, the bottom immaculate, unmarred by stones or growths. At first, restrained by habit, I held my breath. Then, prevailing on myself, I took a cautious breath, expecting to gag.

Instead, my nose and mouth were bathed by a delicious coolness. I opened my mouth and the sensation spread to my throat and chest, invigorating me even further.