Richard Matheson - What Dreams May Come

Nearby, I saw a man in blue talking to a woman on a couch. She looked confused and angry and kept trying to sit up but couldn’t. The man patted her on the shoulder and spoke to her reassuringly.

I looked across the hall in startlement as a man began to shout. “I’m a Christian and a follower of my Savior! I demand to be taken to my Lord! You have no right to keep me here! No right!”

I saw a man in blue gesture to several of his associates and they gathered around the furious man to touch him. In seconds, he was heavily asleep.

“You should be resting,” said a voice.

I looked around and saw a young man in a blue robe smiling at me. I tried to answer but my tongue felt thick and weighted. All I could do was stare at him.

“Come,” he said. I felt his hand on my arm and, with the touch, that sense of silken comfort once again. Everything began to blur around me. I knew that he was walking me but couldn’t see. What was this subtle narcotic in their touch? I wondered as I felt the soft couch under me once more and sank into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, Albert was sitting on the edge of the couch, smiling at me.

“You’re better now,” he said.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“The Hall of Rest.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Quite a while,” he told me.

“Those people in the next-” I pointed.

“Those who’ve died suddenly and violently, waking for the first time,” he said. “Refusing to believe that their bodies are gone but they still exist.”

“That man . . . ”

“One of many who expect to sit at the right hand of God and believe that those who fail to share their ideas are doomed to eternal torment. In many ways, these are the most backward souls of all.”

“You didn’t come before,” I said.

“I couldn’t until you were adequately rested,” he replied. “I received your calls but wasn’t permitted to answer them.”

“I thought you were still-” I broke off, reaching out to grip his arm. “Albert, where is she ?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

“She’s not still in that awful place.”

He shook his head. “No,” he told me. “You spared her that.”

“Thank God!” I felt a burst of joy.

“By going there and staying with her of your own free will, you gave her just enough awareness to escape.”

“Then she’s here,” I said.

“You were with her for some time,” he told me. “That’s why you’ve been here, regaining your strength.” He put a hand on my arm and squeezed it. “I really didn’t think it could be done, Chris,” he said. “I never foresaw what you were able to do for her. I thought in terms of logic. I should have realized that only love could reach her.”

“She is safe,” I said.

“Safe from where she was.”

I felt a tremor of uneasiness. “She’s here?” I asked. “In Summerland?”

He seemed reluctant to answer.

“Albert.” I looked at him anxiously. “Can I see her?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid not, Chris.”

I stared at him in blank dismay.

“You see,” he said, “although the love of someone close can, on occasion, elevate a soul to Summerland-though I’ve never seen it done with a suicide-that soul is, rarely, if ever, able to remain here.”

“Why?” I asked. That I was back in Summerland seemed, suddenly, a hollow victory.

“There are a hundred different answers to that question,” he said. “A thousand. The simplest of which is that Ann just isn’t ready for it yet.”

“Where is she then?” I was sitting up now, gazing at him apprehensively.

He seemed to brace himself. Was that a smile ? “Well,” he started, “the answer to that brings up a subject so immense I don’t know where to begin. You haven’t been in Summerland long enough to have been exposed to it.”

“What subject?” I asked.

“Rebirth,” he said.

I felt dazed and lost. The more I learned of afterlife, the more confusing it became.

“Rebirth?”

“You’ve actually survived death many times,” he said. “You remember the identity of the life you just departed but you’ve had-we’ve all had-a multitude of past lives.”

A memory surfaced from the darkness in my mind. A cottage and an old man lying on a bed, two people nearby, a white-haired woman and a middle-aged man, their dress foreign, the woman’s accent unfamiliar as she said, “I think he’s gone.”

That old man had been me?

“ Are you telling me that Ann is back on earth again?” I asked.

He nodded and I couldn’t restrain a groan of despair.

“Chris, would you rather she was still where you found her?”

“No, but-”

“Because you helped her understand what she’d done,” he said, “she was able to replace her self-imprisonment with immediate rebirth. Surely, you can see the vast improvement in that.”

“Yes, but-” Again, I couldn’t finish. Of course, I was grateful that she was free of that dreadful place.

Still, now, we were separated again.

“Where?” I asked.

He answered quietly. “India.”

AT LAST, I SPOKE. ONE WORD.

“India?”

“It was immediately available,” he said, “as well as offering a challenge to her soul; a handicap to overcome which can counterbalance the negative effect of her suicide.”

“Handicap?” I asked uneasily.

“The body she’s chosen will, in later years, contract an illness which will cause severe sleep deprivation.”

Ann had taken her life with sleeping pills. To balance the scales, she’d acquire a condition which would not permit her to sleep normally.

“And she chose this?” I asked, wanting to be sure of that.

“Absolutely,” Albert said. “Rebirth is always a matter of choice.”

I nodded slowly, staring at him. “What about-the rest?” I asked.

“The rest is good,” he said. “In compensation for the pain she endured and the progress she achieved in her last life. Her new parents are intelligent, attractive people, the father in local government, the mother a successful artist. Ann-she’ll have another name, of course-will be given much love and opportunity for creative and intellectual growth.”

I thought about it for a while before I spoke. Then I said, “I want to go back too.”

Albert looked distressed.

“Chris,” he said, “unless one has to, one should never choose rebirth until one has studied and improved the mind so that the next life is an improvement over the last.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” I conceded. “But I have to be with her and help her if I can. I feel guilty for not having helped her enough in our past life together. I want to try again.”

“Chris, think ,” he said. “Do you really want to return so soon to a world where masses are robbed and cheated by a few? Where food is destroyed while millions starve? Where service to state is a brute hypocrisy? Where killing is a simpler solution than loving?”

His words were harsh but I knew he spoke them for my benefit, hoping to convince me to remain in Summerland and grow.

“I know you’re right,” I said. “And I know you have my best interests at heart. But I love Ann and I have to be with her, helping her as best I can.”

His smile was sad but accepting. “I understand.” He nodded. “Well, I’m not surprised,” he said. “I’ve seen you both together.”

I started. “When?”