They’re right. This excerpt – from Gaiman’s contribution to a new collection of short stories paying tribute to Bradbury – is haunting:

‘My dreams. I do not know your dreams. Perhaps you do not dream of a veldt that is only wallpaper but that eats two children. Perhaps you do not know that Mars Is Heaven, where our beloved dead go to wait for us, then consume us in the night. You do not dream of a man arrested for the crime of being a pedestrian.’

Read it here.