d he was turned implacably
around to stare into that dead and purple face。
P A R T F O U R
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Snowbound
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》
DREAMLAND
Knitting made her sleepy。 Today even Bartok would have made her sleepy； and it
wasn't Bartok on the little phonograph； it was Bach。 Her hands grew slower and
slower； and at the time her son was making the acquaintance of Room 217's long…
term resident； Wendy was asleep with her knitting on her lap。 The yarn and
needles rose in the slow time of her breathing。 Her sleep was deep and she did
not dream。
* * *
Jack Torrance had fallen asleep too； but his sleep was light and uneasy；
populated by dreams that seemed too vivid to be mere dreams — they were certainly
more vivid than any dreams he had ever had before。
His eyes had begun to get heavy as he leafed through packets of milk bills； a
hundred to a packet； seemingly tens of thousands all together。 Yet he gave each
one a cursory glance； afraid that by not being thorough he might miss exactly
the piece of Overlookiana he needed to make the mystic connection that he was
sure must be here somewhere。 He felt like a man with a power cord in one hand；
groping around a dark and unfamiliar room for a socket。 If he could find it he
would be rewarded with a view of wonders。
He had e to grips with Al Shockley's phone call and his request； his
strange experience in the playground had helped him to do that。 That had been
too damned close to some kind of breakdown； and he was convinced th