Songs of a Dead Dreamer and Grimscribe

by Thomas Ligotti

“When I went to check on her a little while ago, I felt, I don’t know, vulnerable in some way. She was hugging one of those stuffed security blankets of hers.” He took a sip of his drink. “It was a new one, I noticed. Did you buy it when you were out shopping today?” Leslie gazed blankly. “The only thing I bought was that,” she said, pointing at the box on the coffee table. “What ‘new one’ do you mean?” “The stuffed Bambi. Maybe she had it before and I just never noticed it,” he said, partially dismissing the issue. “Well, if she had it before, it didn’t come from me,” Leslie said quite resolutely. “Nor me.” “I don’t remember her having it when I put her to bed,” said Leslie. “Well, she had it when I looked in on her after hearing . . .” David paused. From the expression on his face, he seemed to be contemplating a thousand thoughts at once, as if he were engaged in some frantic, rummaging search within every cell of his brain. “What’s the matter, David?” Leslie asked, her voice weakening. “I’m not sure exactly. It’s as if I know something and don’t know it at the same time.” But Dr. Munck was beginning to know.