"Professor Romney got here at dusk and lost no time going into a trance. Of course, he did not know that Louis had already opened the door when he dozed off at the bar, so his experience of Louis's dream was quite unexpected"
-0-
It was a riot of color and impossible shapes. Some were realistic figures other fully fantastical. Some were just shapes that clashed among themselves…
And they beckoned Louis.
Romney moved among the shifting shapes, aware that his body was stretching and twisting, becoming a children's scrawl, and then having his face become an African mask…And Louis was watching all that, smiling, with a palette in his hand.
"The door!" Romney shouted. "Where is the door?"
"The door? The door is behind me. I went through it. And now I am here."
"You opened the door?" He was now a distended snowman with long twig arms. "Did you open the door?"
His body was now stretching like a Gumby…
"The door… the door is behind me. I am here. And I will paint you now."
"Who was at the door? Who opened the door for you?'
Louis did not answer. "Keep your shape, so I can paint you." He told Romney.
Romney grabbed Louis' palette. "Tell me who was behind the door and I will let you have it."
"That woman, Heather Mattox,"
The figure was gone and Louis could keep painting.
In his motel room, Romney woke up "Heather Mattox"
-0-
"And I had the dream." Heather said.
"What did you dream?"
"What do you think? Bad memories of George Midler."
-0-
"You killed for Midler, Miss Mattox. There is blood on your hands."
"Please…"
John Lawson pointed an accusing finger at her. "You are a criminal; you should be in jail."
"I am sorry! I am sorry!
-0-
"Of course, I ran, of course I met the door, and of course it did not open. I woke up screaming in the middle of the night."