And now, a tale well calculated to keep you in...
...suspense.
I know. I know, according to all natural laws, it's impossible.
Completely, utterly impossible.
But I tell you, and I swear to it,
that I and I alone am guilty of this murder.
As guilty as though I'd killed him with my own two hands.
So you must tell them, the police. You must tell them.
Because they'd never believe me.
Because it is impossible.
But it happened.
Listen now to Act One of Dreams, starring Philip Sterling.
And written especially for suspense by Jack Bundy.
Coming, coming.
Yes?
Dr. Harris.
Yes?
Yes.
Yes, you are Dr. Harris. I know, because I saw you.
I heard you make that speech last week at the Civic Auditorium
about the supernatural and premonitions and telepathy
and about dreams, doctor, about dreams.
And I should have told you about it then.
I was...
I was so worried.
Tell me about what, young man?
These dreams, these terrible dreams that I have that...
If only I'd come to you before.
Who are you, young man? And please, please get hold of yourself.
Now, well...
I'm sorry, doctor, I'm sorry. My name is Kingman.
Robert Kingman.
Yes?
I live here in the village and I work at Blake Electronics.
And I... Please, sir, let me come in, because I think you can help me.
Well, I don't know. I'm not a medical doctor, Kingman.
I'm only a student of the supernatural, extrasensory perception.
Yes, yes, and you know about dreams and premonitions and things.
Well, I...
That's why I've come to you.
And listen, your speech, your lecture the other night,
you talked about dreams coming true.
Now, I talked about the possibility of such things, yes.
Oh, if I'd only talked to you then, there at your lecture, and told you about this,
perhaps you could have helped me before it was too late.
But I hope to heaven that even now you can help me.
If you will, Dr. Harris.
Well, well, perhaps you'd better come in.
Thank you. Thank you.
All right in here, Kingman.
Thank you, sir.
A little drink, perhaps, to calm your nerves.
No, no, no.
Just let me tell you about these...
These terrible things that I have.
If I don't tell somebody, I'll go crazy.
Oh, no, come on. We can sit right down here.
Thank you.
Now.
Like I said, it's these...
It's these dreams of mine, these fantastic dreams I have.
They've nearly driven me out of my mind.
And you know why?
Because they made a killer out of me.
Do you understand, sir? I'm...
I'm a murderer. I've murdered a man.
Now, I'm sorry, but I'm sorry.
I'm a murderer. I've murdered a man.
Now, now, wait a minute, Mr. Kingman.
Yes.
If you have killed someone...
And I have, doctor. I've killed him.
Then why do you come to me?
The police are the ones you must go to.
The police?
Of course.
But what would they do?
What could they do?
Don't you see, doctor?
They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't believe me.
Nonetheless, my boy, if there actually has been a murder...
But don't you see?
It isn't as though I actually killed him with my own two hands,
as though I actually struck him down.
But I might as well have. Don't you see that?
No, I'm afraid I don't.
But it's true.
I'm responsible.
I'm wholly and totally responsible.
No one else.
But I can't tell the police about it.
No, Kingman...
Don't you see?
Because you know about such things, you can make them understand.
And then if they say I'm legally guilty...
All right, yes.
Yes, then I'll take the consequences, even if I have to die for it.
Now, Robert...
But my wife says I'm not responsible.
Janet says I can't be. It's impossible.
And yet, after all that happened...
I don't know. I don't know what to do.
Please, you've got to help me, Dr. Harris.
Well, you can hardly expect me to help you...
until you calm down enough to start at the beginning...
and tell me just what this is all about.
So far, you've really told me nothing.
I'm sorry, doctor.
I'm sorry. It's just that...
Well, I'm sorry, but...
But listen, please.
Yes?
It was only last month.
One morning last month.
My wife, Janet, and I were sitting having breakfast together.
Darling, why aren't you eating your breakfast?
Isn't everything all right?
What?
Oh, sure, sure. Of course it is, honey.
Then why aren't you eating?
The way you've been sitting there, staring into space.
Something wrong, darling?
Wrong? No, no, of course not, Janet.
I guess I'm just not hungry this morning. That's all.
Is it?
Sure.
That isn't true, dear. Something is wrong.
Now, what is it, Bob?
Janet, do you remember that funny dream I had about a week ago?
You mean about my brother, Walter, falling down the steps and breaking his wrist?
Yes.
Well, I'd... I'd hardly call it funny.
I know, because that's exactly what happened to him the very next day.
I dreamed it, and then it happened.
Uh-huh. It was a real strange coincidence.
Only it wasn't. It wasn't coincidence, Janet.
But it must have been.
No, dear.
Had I ever before told you about a dream of mine?
No, I guess not.
Honey, that was the first dream I'd had since I was just a little kid.
When I was a kid, I had dreams all the time that came true,
like the one about Joey Prentiss, the boy next door,
just before he drowned in Parvin's pond,
like the one of my father before he died.
I dreamed only when something like that was going to happen.
Even so, darling...
So don't you see, Janet, the one about your brother was far more than just a dream.
It was a definite premonition.
Well, maybe it was, and probably it wasn't.
Anyhow, you and I know better than to believe in premonitions,
so just forget it, dear, and eat this nice breakfast I've fixed for you.
No. It's not that easy, I'm afraid.
Why not?
Last night, dear, I had another dream.
And if it comes true...
Oh, now, honey, don't sit there and tell me you've actually lost your appetite
just because of a dream you had.
Yes.
But, darling, that's silly.
Unless it was a horrible nightmare.
No, no, it wasn't a nightmare.
But the dream was also clear.
I had a fight with Stanley Bolton.
Bolton?
Yes.
He's not only head of research, but a vice president, too.
And the one man who could block the promotion promised me by Mr. Blake.
Oh.
Yes.
But just a dream, dear.
That promotion means everything to me, Janet.
To both of us.
Of course it does.
You've worked for it, and you've earned it.
But surely something you happen to dream about
isn't going to keep you from getting it.
I wonder.
Well, just stop wandering right this minute, Robert Kingman,
and eat your breakfast.
It is kind of silly, you know.
Isn't it?
Really?
If you take the time?
Well, I certainly hope your wife is right, but go on, Kingman.
Doctor, at the office that day, I watched my step every minute
to make sure that nothing could possibly go wrong.
And I carefully avoided Mr. Bolton.
But then as the day wore on and nothing out of the way happened,
well, I began to breathe more easily and decided I'd worried about nothing at all.
But a few minutes after five, as I finished things up for the day...
I'll have this finished for you in just a second, Mr. Kingman.
Oh, good, Miss Rackard.
And you might as well run along home.
There, now.
Here you are.
Oh, fine.
Let's see.
If you'll sign it, I'll have the envelope all ready,
and I'll mail it on the way out.
Here you are.
Thank you.
Well, good night, Mr. Kingman.
Good night, Miss Rackard.
Oh, my way, Rackard.
Excuse me.
All right now, Kingman.
Yes, Mr. Bolton.
Why haven't I received the foreign sales records for last month?
Well, today is only the eighth, Mr. Bolton,
and we don't usually put together these reports until we have...
Today is only the eighth.
Well, how nice of you to tell me.
But, Kingman, if Scoville is to take those records with him
to the Toronto office tomorrow,
he's got to have them immediately and in perfect order.
Scoville? Toronto?
I didn't know anything about a trip.
You didn't know.
You think that's any excuse?
But I'm usually notified if someone needs material like that.
Negligent, that's the trouble with you.
Utterly irresponsible.
Well, Mr. Bolton...
And you're the one that Mr. Blake was considering for promotion, hmm?
Well, I'll soon put a stop to that.
Mr. Bolton, I...
Scoville is leaving on the 2.40 tomorrow,
and if those figures aren't ready for him,
you'd better look for another job.
And then, Kingman, what happened then?
The next morning, Mr. Blake called me in
and politely told me the promotion would have to wait.
Perhaps another year
until Mr. Bolton was better satisfied with my work.
Well, I'm sorry, but now, look, my boy,
if that one incident, that coincidence about the dream...
Coincidence?
Yes, if that's all that brought you here to see me,
so upset and so worried...
Didn't you hear me?
Don't you understand?
That was only the beginning of the dreams that have made me a killer.
And when you hear the rest of the terrible things
I've dreamed about that have happened...
Heaven forgive me for what I've done.
In a moment, we'll return for Act Two of...
Suspense.
If you leave your car outside at night
and hope in the morning it'll be all right,
if your car's in a garage that has no heat,
you want antifreeze protection that's real complete.
Don't ask for trouble.
Ask for DuPont Xyrex antifreeze.
For dependable protection against sudden drops in temperature
all winter long, use DuPont Xyrex antifreeze.
Even during a warm spell, Xyrex won't boil away.
It outlasts winter.
And to guard against damaging rust and corrosion,
Xyrex has MR8 rust inhibitor,
an exclusive DuPont development that protects all engine metals,
including aluminum.
So for safe dependable protection,
due as millions of motorists have done for over 20 years,
ask for Xyrex antifreeze.
It's made by DuPont.
Remember...
For cars left out at night
or in unheated garages
Don't ask for trouble.
Ask for DuPont Xyrex antifreeze.
You had more of these so-called promontory dreams, then?
Yes, doctor.
Because I wanted to.
Because I wanted to get even.
I'd banked a lot on that promotion.
Now I've lost any chance for it, thanks to Mr. Bolton.
I knew it wasn't right,
but I couldn't help hating him almost viciously.
And I couldn't get him or my hatred for him
or what he'd done to us.
I couldn't get it out of my mind.
I couldn't get him out of my mind.
And then a few nights later, I dreamed about him again.
It was a weird, a crazy, a fantastic sort of dream.
What do you want with me, Kingman? What do you want?
And why do you have me penned up in this place?
Like a jail, isn't it, Mr. Bolton?
These high walls of heavy concrete blocks
Well? I built this place myself, Mr. Bolton, just for you.
There's no door, no windows. There's no way out for you.
You can't get away from me.
And now I'm going to pay you back, Mr. Bolton,
for what you've done to me.
You're crazy, Kingman. You can't hurt me.
This is only a dream. Only a dream, do you hear me?
But it's my dream.
It's my dream, Mr. Bolton.
Now, Kingman... And that's why you can't help yourself.
When I beat you, you'll be the last person
when I beat you and beat you the way you deserve.
Are you ready? Stop!
Are you ready? Stop! Stay away from me!
Am I ready? No! No!
Get away from me! Help! Get away from me! Help!
And you did beat him in this dream of yours?
Unmercifully. Until he fell unconscious.
Well, I ought to see anything about it, a warrior king.
But wait. I can hardly picture anything like that
actually happening, dream or no dream.
Wait, wait, Doctor.
When I woke up in the morning, my hands were sore.
My knuckles were all bruised.
And I imagine you've done a pretty good job
of tearing up the bedclothes too, then, haven't you?
Doctor. Mr. Kingman.
Now, Robert, you must understand something.
After what had happened at the office between you and Mr. Bolton,
a dream like that was the most natural thing in the world.
Dreams spring from the unconscious.
And so far as this man Bolton is concerned,
in your subconscious mind...
No, wait, please. You've got to hear me out.
Very well. Go on.
When I got to the office the next morning,
everybody was commiserating with Mr. Bolton
because of the terrible bumps and bruises all over his head.
Really? Well, how did he explain them?
He said that he'd fallen out of his bed during the night.
But with all those bruises, he'd have to have fallen out a dozen times.
And then when he saw me, Doctor, it was just as though he knew.
It was just as though he knew that I had somehow made it happen to him.
And from that point on, he never let up on me.
Day after day, everything I did was wrong.
No, now wait a minute.
No, Doctor. I began to hate him more bitterly
than anything or any person I'd ever hated before.
It became an obsession. I couldn't shake off.
And then suddenly it dawned on me.
All my dreams had come true.
And that meant my dreams would come true.
Whatever I dreamed would have to come true.
So from that moment on, I knew what I had to do.
I knew that I would never have any peace until I dreamed about
and therefore brought about the death of Stanley Bolton.
Yes, Doctor.
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced,
the more I knew that anything I dreamed about would have to come to pass.
Not exactly as I dreamed it, perhaps.
But the result would be the same.
And so every night before I dropped off to sleep,
I thought of nothing but Stanley Bolton,
of all the hatred I had for him.
I concentrated all my thoughts on him and nothing else, Doctor.
And I focused my thoughts on his murder.
But it didn't work.
I couldn't seem to dream again, try as I might.
Perhaps that's for the best.
Not until three nights ago.
Oh?
And again, Doctor.
It was a wild, crazy, utterly fantastic dream.
It was a big empty square, a city block or more,
with a high, thick wall around it,
much bigger than the place I'd dreamed about before.
And there was a car, a sports car, a sort of racing car,
a very fast one, driving around in this place
as though it were hunting for something.
All of a sudden, the way it can happen only in a dream.
I was in that car. I was driving it.
I was hunting for something, or something, frantically.
And then as I wildly spun and swerved the car about,
then I saw him.
Bolton.
And he knew me. And he knew I was after him.
And he knew that this time he wouldn't get away alive.
Stop! Stop, you fool! You run me down!
Run! Go ahead and run, Bolton!
You think you can outrun me in this?
Try it! Try it!
No, help! You'll kill me!
But it's only a dream, remember?
So run your legs off, Bolton, and see what good it will do you.
Please, please, go back!
Are you ready? Are you ready?
Well, I'm ready...
now!
Well, well, Kingman?
The next morning, when I got to the office, I learned that Mr. Bolton had been killed.
What?
Yes.
By some hit-and-run driver in a sports car.
Good heavens.
Yes.
And do you know why, Doctor?
Because of my dream.
Because it's what I wanted to dream.
So I'm guilty of Stanley Bolton's murder.
No, no, you aren't.
You had nothing to do with the car that ran him down.
Of course I didn't, but I'm still to blame.
How can you be?
Because I am.
Because now, now I have proof that I am.
Proof?
Yes.
Because last night I dreamed again.
Yes.
I dreamed that for what I had done, I was electrocuted.
What can I do?
Doctor, what can I do?
I don't know.
I must have time to think about this.
But you believe me.
You believe me, what I've told you.
Yes, yes, Robert, I believe you.
And I believe you need help.
If I go to the police, if they believe me, it can mean only one thing.
The death penalty.
Electrocution.
Now, now, now, Robert, listen to me.
You may feel any way you wish about this whole gruesome affair.
And because of the strain that's imposed on you, I can understand why you're, why you're
so upset about it.
But we've got to be realistic about this.
Now, legally, there is no possible way in which you could be found guilty of Bolton's
murder.
So first we have to think about you, about how to ease your mind, your conscience of
this...
Oh, wait now.
What?
Of course, I should have thought of him when you came here.
Yes, doctor?
Someone who can help me?
Robert, I know it's late, but I want you to go and see an old friend of mine.
His name is Thaddeus Hagen.
Hagen?
You know him?
The psychiatrist?
Yes.
Well, I've heard of him, but, doctor...
I want you to go to him alone.
I want you to tell him exactly what you've told me.
I'll phone him that you're coming, in spite of the hour, and I promise that I'll tell
him nothing whatever about the case.
I'll only ask him that he call me after he's talked with you.
You think I've gone crazy?
No.
No, not by any means, but this whole experience has upset you badly, as it would anyone.
And the most important thing at the moment is to get you back into the frame of mind
where you can, where you can face this thing with your fullest capacity for sound judgment.
Because you must work this out for yourself, Robert, but not in your present state of mind.
Will you go and see Hagen?
For your own sake, Robert.
Yes.
Now?
Now.
Good.
I'll give you his address.
It's only a few miles from here, and you must tell him that I'll be waiting to hear from
him.
Dr. Harris speaking.
Harris.
Harris, this is Tadeus Hagen.
Hagen, oh yes, yes, but I'm, I'm surprised to hear from you so soon.
Harris, that young man you said you were sending out here to see me.
Yes.
Robert Kingman?
Yes.
Hagen, you talked to him?
No.
No, I didn't.
Oh, but why not?
A terrible thing has happened.
Well, well what is it, man?
What is it?
Harris, the new high tension power line, the electric company strung across my property.
Oh.
22,000 volts.
Hagen.
Yes.
One of those lines broke.
It fell across my front walk, and there in the darkness, he couldn't see it.
He stumbled into it.
Good Lord.
He was killed immediately, Harris, electrocuted.
Suspense.
You've been listening to Dreams, starring Philip Sterling and written especially for
Suspense by Jack Bundy.
Suspense is produced and directed by Bruno Zarratto Jr., music supervision by Ethel Huber.
Part in tonight's story were Edgar Staley as Dr. Harris, Connie Lemke as Janet, Richard
Kendrick as Mr. Bolton, Raymond Edward Johnson as Thaddeus Hagen, and Barbara Cassar as the
girl.
Listen again next week when we return with Seeds of Disaster written by David Hill, another
tale well calculated to keep you in.
Suspense.
Carelessness causes forest fires.
The you can prevent them.
This is the CBS Radio Network.