Buku Sleep Disorder by Jack Ketchum

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Sleep Disorder by Jack Ketchum

Author:Jack Ketchum

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Jack Ketchum

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Sleep Disorder by Jack Ketchum

Sleep Disorder

Bill Dumont never dreamed.

Hadn’t for as long as he could remember. The popular wisdom was that you simply had to dream or you’d go crazy—you’d maybe already be crazy—so he assumed he did, really. He just couldn’t recall a thing. Not a single image. Practically speaking that was as good as not dreaming at all. Which was fine with him because he doubted that his dreams were going to enlighten him much.

 

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Sleep Disorder by Jack Ketchum

 

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Sleep Disorder by Jack Ketchum

Author:Jack Ketchum , Date: July 12, 2019

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Author:Jack Ketchum

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Jack Ketchum
Sleep Disorder

Bill Dumont never dreamed.

Hadn’t for as long as he could remember. The popular wisdom was that you simply had to dream or you’d go crazy—you’d maybe already be crazy—so he assumed he did, really. He just couldn’t recall a thing. Not a single image. Practically speaking that was as good as not dreaming at all. Which was fine with him because he doubted that his dreams were going to enlighten him much.

Bill Dumont was a Grade-A, All-American bastard and he damn well knew it. His father had been before him and probably his father before that. He got to live the life every day. He didn’t need to dream about it too.

But there had to be dreams. Or elsewhere would all this talking come from?

He talked in his sleep.

Pretty much every night if you were to believe Annie, his current live-in girlfriend. Or Laura, his soon-to-be-ex wife. Or any of the squeeze he got on the side. And he guessed it had started way back in college because he remembered he’d sure scared the hell out of Harry, his last roommate, the second night in their apartment together by sitting bolt upright in bed and saying, “I have come to you through space and time—but not through New Jersey.” And then going back to sleep again.

Harry was kind of leery of him for the next week or so. Couldn’t blame him.

New Jersey for god’s sake.

“What you dream,” he’d said, “is how you see others, seeing you.”

Well, Harry was a psych major so what could you expect? He could talk some mean Freudian, Jungian or Reichian dynamics but Bill was less interested in Harry’s analysis than in his wallet back in those penny-pinching college days. Harry was a rich kid. Harry also had a crush on the proverbial tall, dark and handsome Bill Dumont—and Bill didn’t want to fork out all that tuition money if he didn’t have to. And as the saying went, it was all pink on the inside.

Bill feigned a fervent affection for the entire senior year, secretly boffing cheerleaders and business majors on the side, taking them to nice expensive restaurants on Harry’s cash. Between the tuition and party money, Bill took the poor chump for a small fortune. When Harry got the gist, he blew his head off—day after graduation. Too bad. But hey, Harry’s mental problems weren’t Bill’s problem.

This dreaming business, though. From age thirty on, everybody complained about Bill’s talking in his sleep. Laura had even bought earplugs. Which he thought was pretty damn rude. But at least the bitch never really complained much after that, except occasionally about the earplugs bothering her. “Go sleep on the couch if you don’t like the damn things,” he’d suggested once but she never did. Laura was insecure and Bill was—well, proverbially tall, dark, and handsome. He loved to think about other women when he was putting the blocks to her, pretty fair lay though she had been.

But as for the talking, Bill supposedly spoke in

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