Read Online The Glimpsing by James L. Black, Mary Byrnes - Free Book Online Page A

that’s still going on.   You know you’re dreaming, while you’re dreaming.”
    “That’s exactly what it was.”
    “Some people try to make themselves dream lucidly, feeling that if they know they’re dreaming they can take control of it.   Can you imagine it?   Being able to turn a nightmare into some more pleasant, or fly, or even make things appear out of thin air?   Of course, I’ve never heard of it working.   Still, it’s fascinating the way the mind can pluck something from the real world, in your case the woman in this painting, and make an entire story out of it.”   She moved off to the dresser and carefully placed the painting back on top.
    “Yes well, nothing about it seemed made up to me.   It wasn’t hazy or ethereal in any way.   In fact, all Rose kept trying to do was convince me that it was actually happening, that all of it was real.”
    Janice had resumed dusting the photographs in the gallery.   “Oh?   And how was she trying to do that?”
    “By getting me to drink wine.”
    “Wine.   That’s novel.   What was that supposed to prove?”
    “She thought my tasting it would prove I wasn’t dreaming.”
    “And did you?”
    “ What, taste it?”
    “Yes.”
    Jack shrugged. “I suppose so.”
    Janice’s dusting slowed.   She then turned and looked over her shoulder.   “You did?”
    “Yes, why ?. ”
    “You do know that’s impossible, don’t you.   Your senses don’t work in a dream.   You can’t taste, smell, even feel pain.”
    “Well apparently that’s not true because I’m pretty sure I tasted something.   Strangest part was when she slapped me.   It was so hard she could have dislodged a tooth.”
    “And did you feel that too?”
    “Oh,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows, “there’s no question about that.”
    Janice peered at him, studying his face for a moment.   She made her way to him, put a hand to his chin, and nudged it left.   There, on his cheek, was what appeared to be the pinkish imprint of a woman’s hand.   She frowned, stupefied.   “What in heaven’s name went on in here last night, Jack?”
    “Nothing,” Jack said uncertainly.
    “Something.   There are marks on your face.”
    Jack went to the mirror, looked up, and turned his head to the side.   Seeing them, he ran his hand over his cheek, marveling.
    Noticing the wine glass, Janice had made her way to the wet bar.   She picked it up and sniffed inside, immediately catching the odor of wine.   “Is this the glass you drank from in your dream?”
    Jack stared at it.   “Yes, I guess so.”
    Janice grimaced.
    “What is it?   What’s wrong?”
    She hesitated, seemed about to speak, then hesitated again.
    “What is it?” Jack repeated agitatedly.
    “Nothing.   It’s just that… well, I’m not so sure you were dreaming last night.”
    “Then… what was I doing?”
    “Glimpsing.”
    “What?”
    “Glimpsing, Jack.”
    “What’s… glimpsing?”
    “It’s momentarily seeing the world that surrounds our own.”
    “What world?”
    “The invisible one.   The one we’re not normally permitted to see.”
    Jack was shaking his head.   “What are you saying, that I saw a ghost?”
    “Not exactly.   There are different forms of glimpsing, seeing a ghost or some other strange phenomenon is just one of them.”
    “Then what kind of glimpsing was I doing?”
    “The worst kind.   The kind where you not only see an entity, you physically interact with it.”
    “What do you mean physically interact?”
    “I mean you can touch the entity.” She paused.   “And more disturbingly, the entity can touch you back.”
    Jack turned his head sideways at her.   “That’s what you think was going on in here last night: that I was being visited by some damned entity?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don't believe that.”
    “What you believe means nothing. Look at your face.   Something very strange happened here last night.”
    “You’re being ridiculous, Janice.   I’m