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Page 140
Terry lay back and pressed the blanket to her eyes. She was shaking. Sobbing spasms wracked her insides.
A moment later the door opened. "Mom . . . Mom?"
His voice was like the flick of a switch. She sat upright, her mind cleared. "Matty, what happened?"
But he didn't hear her. He pushed his way into the room, his arms tight across his chest as if to protect himself. "Mommy," he cried, "he's coming."
"Who? Who's coming?"
Matty's eyes were open but he seemed locked in a trance.
"My God, what's wrong with him?" Terry grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Matty. Matty! Wake up."
Calvin sat him down on the bed. "Matty, you're dreaming. Wake up."
Matty's face was contorted, as if he were in awful pain or fear or both. "Don't do that! Leave me alone . . ."
Terry was frantic. "Calvin, do something." The next moment she reached over for the glass of water on the nighttable and splashed the contents in Matty's face. The effect was instant. Matty blinked in disbelief. "You were sleepwalking," she said, and pulled him to her. "We couldn't wake you up.''
Calvin dabbed him dry with the blanket and for a long moment Terry held him against her while he calmed down.
"You were in a bad dream, hon," Calvin said gently. "You're okay now."
"Mom?" Matty's voice was barely audible.
"Yes," she said, pressing him to her.
"I'm going to die."
"Matty, don't say that. You're not going to die."
"Yes, I am. I dream it every night."
"What do you dream?" Calvin asked him, but Matty buried his face against Terry's nightgown to say he didn't want to tell in front of him.
Calvin nodded to Terry. "I'll get breakfast ready," he said, and slipped out.
Terry propped up the pillows and pulled the covers over him, then turned on the lamp. "No. Turn it off," he said abruptly, and clapped his hands to his eyes.

 
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