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Weird Tales


A Dream of Death


Strange was the vision that haunted Raymond in his sleep, and stranger
still was its weird denouement

A PIERCING flow of light which caused fantastic shadows to dance grotesquely within his slumber-burdened mind roused Blaine from his sleep. The reading-lamp beside his bed had been switched on and in the outer rim of its glow he saw the pale, haggard face of his nephew.

"What is it, Raymond?" he asked. "Is anything wrong?"

At the sound of Blaine's voice Raymond's lips moved nervously.

"I didn't know you were awake," he mumbled. "I was thinking, trying to decide... that is, perhaps I should tell you."

Raymond ceased speaking for a moment. He was sitting in a chair near the bed, making nervous, clawing motions with his hands. His strained face showed clearly how strenuously he was trying to become calm. Gradually he gained control over his agitation. At last he said quite composedly, "I want to tell you about a dream I had."

"So that's your reason for awakening me in the middle of the night!" exclaimed Blaine irately. "Get bade to your bed. You can tell me about your dream in the morning."

"But I can't wait until tomorrow," insisted Raymond as he leaned forward and thrust his pale face closer to Blaine's. "This dream," he said. "I have dreamt it often lately. It is hideous. Always the same. I am looking at a room, in the center of which I see a man and woman seated at a cable. On the table stands a burning oil lamp. Frequently the man and woman look toward me, and whenever that happens the woman's eyes are filled with a soft and glorious light. She smiles at the man; he at...

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