sk.theshining-第66章
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probably functions of the subconscious mind。 Freud said that the subconscious never speaks to us in literal language。 Only in symbols。 If you dream about being in a bakery where no one speaks English； you may be worried about your ability to support your family。 Or maybe just that no one understands you。 I've read that the falling dream is a standard outlet for feelings of insecurity。 Games； little games。 Conscious on one side of the net； subconscious on the other； serving some cockamamie image back and forth。 Same with mental illness； with hunches； all of that。 Why should precognition be any different？ Maybe Danny really did see blood all over the walls of the Presidential Suite。 To a kid his age； the image of blood and the concept of death are nearly interchangeable。 To kids； the image is always more accessible than the concept； anyway。 William Carlos Williams knew that； he was a pediatrician。 When we grow up； concepts gradually get easier and we leave the images to the poets 。 。 。 and I'm just rambling on。〃
〃I like to hear you ramble。〃
〃She said it； folks。 She said it。 You all heard it。〃
〃The marks on his neck； Jack。 Those are real。〃
〃Yes。〃 There was nothing else for a long time。 She had begun to think he must have gone to sleep and she was slipping into a drowse herself when he said：
〃I can think of two explanations for those。 And neither of them involves a fourth party in the hotel。〃
〃What？〃 She came up on one elbow。
〃Stigmata； maybe；〃 he said。
〃Stigmata？ Isn't that when people bleed on Good Friday or something？〃
〃Yes。 Sometimes people who believe deeply in Christ's divinity exhibit bleeding marks on their hands and feet during the Holy Week。 It was more mon in the Middle Ages than now。 In those days such people were considered blessed by God。 I don't think the Catholic Church proclaimed any of it as out…and…out miracles； which was pretty smart of them。 Stigmata isn't much different from some of the things the yogis can do。 It's better understood now； that's all。 The people who understand the interaction between the mind and the body…study it； I mean； no one understands it…believe we have a lot more control over our involuntary functions than they used to think。 You can slow your heartbeat if you think about it enough。 Speed up your own metabolism。 Make yourself sweat more。 Or make yourself bleed。〃
〃You think Danny thought those bruises onto his neck？ Jack； I just can't believe that。〃
〃I can believe it's possible； although it seems unlikely to me； too。 What's more likely is that he did it to himself。〃
〃To himself？〃
〃He's gone into these 'trances' and hurt himself in the past。 Do you remember the time at the supper table？ About two years ago； I think。 We were super…pissed at each other。 Nobody talking very much。 Then； all at once； his eyes rolled up in his head and he went face…first into his dinner。 Then onto the floor。
Remember？〃
〃Yes；〃 she said。 〃I sure do。 I thought he was having a convulsion。〃
〃Another time we were in the park；〃 he said。 〃Just Danny and I。 Saturday afternoon。 He was sitting on a swing； coasting back and forth。 He collapsed onto the ground。 It was like he'd been shot。 I ran over and picked him up and all of a sudden he just came around。 He sort of blinked at me and said； ‘I hurt my tummy。 Tell Mommy to close the bedroom windows if it rains。' And that night it rained like hell。〃
〃Yes； but…〃
〃And he's always ing in with cuts and scraped elbows。 His shins look like a battlefield in distress。 And when you ask him how he got this one or that one； he just says ‘Oh； I was playing；' and that's the end of it。〃
〃Jack； all kids get bumped and bruised up。 With little boys it's almost constant from the time they learn to walk until they're twelve or thirteen。〃
〃And I'm sure Danny gets his share；〃 Jack responded。 〃He's an active kid。 But I remember that day in the park and that night at the supper table。 And I wonder if some of our kid's bumps and bruises e from just keeling over。 That Dr。
Edmonds said Danny did it right in his office； for Christ's sake！〃
〃All right。 But those bruises were fingers。 I'd swear to it。 He didn't get them falling down。〃
〃He goes into a trance；〃 Jack said。 〃Maybe he sees something that happened in that room。 An argument。 Maybe a suicide。 Violent emotions。 It isn't like watching a movie； he's in a highly suggestible state。 He's right in the damn thing。 His subconscious is maybe visualizing whatever happened in a symbolic way 。 。 。 as a dead woman who's alive again； zombie； undead； ghoul； you pick your term。〃
〃You're giving me goose…bumps；〃 she said thickly。
〃I'm giving myself a few。 I'm no psychiatrist； but it seems to fit so well。
The walking dead woman as a symbol for dead emotions； dead lives； that just won't give up and go away 。 。 。 but because she's a subconscious figure； she's also him。 In the trance state； the conscious Danny is submerged。 The subconscious figure is pulling the strings。 So Danny put his hands around his own neck and…〃
〃Stop；〃 she said。 〃I get the picture。 I think that's more frightening than having a stranger creeping around the halls； Jack。 You can move away from a stranger。 You can't move away from yourself。 You're talking about schizophrenia。〃
〃Of a very limited type；〃 he said； but a trifle uneasily。 〃And of a very special nature。 Because he does seem able to read thoughts； and he really does seem to have precognitive flashes from time to time。 I can't think of that as mental illness no matter how hard I try。 We all have schizo deposits in us anyway。 I think as Danny gets older； he'll get this under control。〃
〃If you're right； then it's imperative that we get him out。 Whatever he has； this hotel is making it worse。〃
〃I wouldn't say that；〃 he objected。 〃If he'd done as he was told； he never would have gone up to that room in the first place。 It never would have happened。〃
〃My God； Jack！ Are you implying that being half…strangled was a 。 。 。 a fitting punishment for being off limits？〃
〃No 。 。 。 no。 Of course not。 But…〃
〃No buts；〃 she said； shaking her head violently。 〃The truth is； we're guessing。 We don't have any idea when he might turn a corner and run into one of those 。 。 。 air pockets； one…reel horror movies； whatever they are。 We have to get him away。〃 She laughed a little in the darkness。 〃Next thing we'll be seeing things。〃
〃Don't talk nonsense；〃 he said； and in the darkness of the room he saw the hedge lions bunching around the path； no longer flanking it but guarding it； hungry November lions。 Cold sweat sprang out on his brow。
〃You didn't really see anything； did you？〃 she was asking。 〃I mean； when you went up to that room。 You didn't see anything？〃 The lions were gone。 Now he saw a pink pastel shower curtain with a dark shape lounging behind it。 The closed door。 That muffled； hurried thump； and sounds after it that might have been running footsteps。 The horrible； lurching beat of his own heart as he struggled with the passkey。
〃Nothing；〃 he said； and that was true。 He had been strung tip； not sure of what was happening。 He hadn't had a chance to sift through his thoughts for a reasonable explanation concerning the bruises on his son's neck。 He had been pretty damn suggestible himself。 Hallucinations could sometimes be catching。
〃And you haven't changed your mind？ About the snowmobile； I mean？〃 His hands clamped into sudden tight fists （Stop nagging me！ ） by his sides。 〃I said I would； didn't I？ I will。 Now go to sleep。 It's been a long hard day。〃
〃And how；〃 she said。 There was a rustle of bedclothes as she turned toward him and kissed his shoulder。 〃I love you； Jack。〃
〃I love you too；〃 he said； but he was only mouthing the words。 His hands were still clenched into fists。 They felt like rocks on the ends of his arms。 The pulse beat prominently in his forehead。 She hadn't said a word about what was going to happen to them after they got down； when the party was over。 Not one word。 It had been Danny this and Danny that and Jack I'm so scared。 Oh yes； she was scared of a lot of closet boogeymen and jumping shadows； plenty scared。 But there was no lack of real ones； eithe
