Free What Dreams May Come by Richard Matheson

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