DREAM WORLD By R. A. LAFFERTY Illustrated by GAUGHAN [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine June 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] It was the awfullest dream in the world, no doubt about it. In fact, it seemed to be the only dream there was! He was a morning type, so it was unusual that he should feel depressed in the morning. He tried to account for it, and could not. He was a healthy man, so he ate a healthy breakfast. He was not too depressed for that. And he listened unconsciously to the dark girl with the musical voice. Often she ate at Cahill's in the mornings with her girl friend. Grape juice, pineapple juice, orange juice, apple juice ... why did people look at him suspiciously just because he took four or five sorts of juice for breakfast? * * * * * "Agnes, it was ghastly. I was built like a sack. A sackful of skunk cabbage, I swear. And I was a green-brown color and had hair like a latrine mop. Agnes, I was sick with misery. It just isn't possible for anybody to feel so low. I can't shake it at all. And the whole world was like the underside of a log. It wasn't that, though. It wasn't just one bunch of things. It was everything. It was a world where things just weren't worth living. I can't come out of it...." "Teresa, it was only a dream." * * * * * Sausage, only four little links for an order. Did people think he was a glutton because he had four orders of sausage? It didn't seem like very much. "My mother was a monster. She was a wart-hoggish animal. And yet she was still recognizable. How could my mother look like a wart-hog and still look like my mother? Mama's pretty!" "Teresa, it was only a dream. Forget it." * * * * * The stares a man must suffer just to get a dozen pancakes on his plate! What was the matter with people who called four pancakes a tall stack? And what was odd about ordering a quarter of a pound of butter? It was better than having twenty of those little pats each on its coaster. * * * * * "Agnes, we all of us had eyes that bugged out. And we stank! We were bloated, and all the time it rained a dirty green rain that smelled like a four letter word. Good grief, girl! We had hair all over us where we weren't warts. And we talked like cracked crows. We had crawlers. I itch just from thinking about it. And the dirty parts of the dream I won't even tell you. I've never felt so blue in my life. I just don't know how I'll make the day through." "Teresa, doll, how could a dream upset you so much?" * * * * *