Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
PREFACE
CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4-5-6-7
CHAPTER-8-9
CHAPTER-10-11
CHAPTER-12-13-14-15
CHAPTER-16-17
CHAPTER-18-19
CHAPTER-20-21-22
CHAPTER-23-24-25
CHAPTER-26-27-28
CHAPTER-29-30
CHAPTER-31.1
CHAPTER-31.2
CHAPTER-31.3
CHAPTER-32
CHAPTER-33
CHAPTER-34-35-36-37-38
CHAPTER-39-40-41-42
CHAPTER-43-44-45
CHAPTER-46-47
CHAPTER-48
CHAPTER-49-50
CHAPTER-51
CHAPTER-52-53
The Sex Life of the Gods. Michael Knerr. CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4
CHAPTER-5-6
CHAPTER-7-8
CHAPTER-9-10
CHAPTER-11-12
CHAPTER-13-14
CHAPTER-15-16
CHAPTER-17-18

revolution ... they killed my driver. I was alone and they were all 

around me..." 

 

"Science fiction," she cooed and stroked his hair. "I think it's a good 

sign. All you ever read, for relaxation, was science fiction. Your dream 

was probably a story you once read and your mind put you in the hero's 

place." 

 

He sat up and looked at her. "Did I cry out?" 

 

"You were mumbling. I couldn't hear what you said. Then you began 

sobbing and thrashing about." 

 

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck, the 

reality of the dream almost too much for him. It wasn't an ordinary 

nightmare where he would be running, with a huge monster panting in 

pursuit. This was frightening. Like a memory. Like some damned fantastic 

memory. 

 

He stood up and patted her shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Beth," he told 

her gently. "I'm going downstairs." 

 

"Shall I turn on a light?" 

 

"No. It might cause the neighbors to wonder." He walked to the door of 

the bedroom. "The moon is bright enough." 

 

He walked into the hall, feeling his way in the dark places, and down 

the stairs into the living room. As he sat in the chair near the window, 

he thought about the dream. It bothered him, because it was unlike a 

dream; it had the weird consistency and logic of a memory, yet seemed 

almost supernatural ... Hell, what kind of thing had huge, yellow eyes 

and stood nine feet tall? What sort of a world had a violet sky and 

grey-green rocks? The whole damned thing had the scent of a Walt Disney 

movie, the colors vivid and sharp, the landscape seemingly done by a 

watercolor brush. 

 

_Thista._ 

 

Apparently it was some kind of planet and he hoped that Beth was right. 

Would it be possible for a man to get so confused via a crack on the 

head, that he believed he had lived through the literature he'd once 

read? What would he dream about next? _Macbeth?_ _Treasure Island?_ 

Christ, what a world! 

 

If he could get to a doctor, a headshrinker, it might all be ironed out. 

They would get things squared away in a short while, but hell ... 

suppose I'm Public Enemy Number One, or something. Thirteen months! In 

thirteen months kings have been broken, dynasties crushed ... What had 

happened to him in the thirteen months that he had been out of touch? 

One thing he was sure of; he hadn't been laying around. In a stretch of 

time like that, he had worked, eaten, slept, loved ... Maybe he had 

married again! An almost comical thought, compared to the possibility 

that he could be a killer, a bank robber; there were a million things 

he could have done. 

 

A psychologist? Nope. That was out of the question, until he knew more 

about Nicholas Danson. And learning more about himself would be a real 

problem. The cabin that Beth had spoken of would probably show him 


Page 4 from 6:  Back   1   2   3  [4]  5   6   Forward