The Dreams Page 2

  Evening fell, the darkness blotting the lights of the widely spaced lamps, and loneliness seized me. I wondered what was holding up Tram Number 3? All the other trams came in, each carrying away those who had been waiting for it—yet I had no idea what had happened to Tram Number 3. Movement in the square diminished as traffic slowly ground to a halt, until I was left nearly alone in the station. I glanced around and noticed to my left a girl who looked like a daughter of the night. My sense of isolation and despair only increased when she asked me, “Isn’t this the stop for Tram Number 3?”

  I answered that it was, and thought of leaving the place—when Tram Number 3 quietly pulled into the station. The only people aboard were the driver and the ticket conductor. Something inside me told me not to get on—so I turned my back to it, staying that way until the tram had gone.

  Looking about afterward, I saw the girl standing there. When she felt my eye upon her, she smiled and walked toward the nearest alley—and I followed her in train.

  Dream 8

  Approaching my flat, I found that both panels of the front door were open. This was most unusual. From inside came loud noises and echoes of people talking.

  My heart pounded in expectation of some evil, when I saw my dear ones smiling sympathetically. Yet just as I became fully aware of everything, the apartment was cleared of its contents, the furniture heaped at one end inside. At the same time, workmen of all different ages—wall painters, mortar mixers, and water carriers—bustled about. And so the plot had been carried out during my absence, while my question was lost in the air.… Was this coup deliberately executed when I was in such a state of complete exhaustion?

  “Who told you to do this?” I shouted at the workmen. But they kept on doing their jobs without paying me any mind. Overwhelmed by anger, I stepped out of the flat—feeling that I would never go back into it as long as I lived. At the building’s entrance I saw my mother coming, long after she had left this world. She seemed furious and indignant. “You’re the cause of all this!” she said to me.

  “No—you’re the cause of what’s happened here, and of the things to come!” I shot back.

  Then quickly she vanished, and I continued my flight.

  Dream 9

  On the couch in the little garden attached to the house my sister sat staring contemplatively at a frog swimming in the canal that flowed through the greenery. As she did so, she grew intoxicated on the tender breeze and the clusters of grapes dangling from the trellis.

  “What are you waiting for?” I asked my sister.

  Before she could answer, I said, “It’s better to sit inside where we can listen to the phonograph.” We exchanged consulting looks, then went into the room. There the silence became more intense until even the breeze abandoned us.

  I looked at my sister—and she had turned into the screen star Greta Garbo. She was my favorite actress, so I soared with happiness, though without any wings.

  I trembled with pleasure, yet the enchantment was brief. I wanted to bring the miraculous magic back once again—but my sister refused to help. I asked her why she had said no.

  “My mother …” she replied.

  I cut her off before she could finish.

  “She doesn’t know,” I told her.

  “She knows everything,” she declared confidently.

  I felt that sadness had blanketed everything, like a sudden fog.

  Dream 10

  Our friendship and our growing up together have brought us all here. We have grown used to this alley, and, as the coattails of night come down upon us, we have no goal but to delight in our gathering and surrender to jesting and laughter, and to compete in the art of telling rhyming jokes to each other.

  We trade our witty wisecracks as we turn little by little into ghosts in the gloom. We know each other by our voices, and do not pause in savoring our amusing competition. Our guffawing goes up against the four walls around us, waking those who are sleeping. The alley recedes as we draw closer to one another, while the darkness engulfing us fails to dissolve. As all of this happens, we continue as we were until confusion cramps our gaiety, and we begin to wonder if we might best finish our evening elsewhere—perhaps on a square, or on a main road.

  One of us tells the story of the pharaonic queen who wanted to take revenge on the priests who had killed her husband. She invited them to a place very much like the one in which we are now rejoicing—then the waters overcame them. He has not quite finished his tale when the heavens open upon us with unprecedented force. The thunder stills us as the water pours down, rising until it covers our feet and creeps up our calves, and we feel that we are drowning in the rain in the shadow of night. We forget all of our jokes and all of our laughter.

  In the end, there is no hope left for us—unless we fly into space.

  Dream 11

  In the shade of the date palm on the bank of the Nile, a girl of great height and succulent body lay upon her back. Her chest was open as countless children kept crawling toward her. They swarmed about her breasts and sucked from them with unimaginable greed. Each time one group of them finished, another would approach.

  The whole thing appeared to have gotten out of hand, overthrowing any system of order. To me it seemed that someone should raise an alarm and call for help. Yet the people were shrouded in sleep on the Nile’s shore. I tried to cry out, but no sound came from my mouth. My breast tightened with distress.

  As for the children with the woman, they had left her nothing but skin over bones. When they despaired of getting any more milk from her, they tore at her flesh with their teeth until they had rent her to a mere skeleton. I felt it my duty to do more than just attempt the scream that I couldn’t get out of me. It startled me that the children, after giving up on finding more milk and meat, had sunk into a beastly battle with each other. Their blood flowed as their flesh was torn.

  Some of them caught sight of me and began to come toward me—to do the unthinkable in the infinity of total terror.

  Dream 12

  Something in the air afflicted the nerves. From several directions, heads would pop out—then as suddenly vanish. Rumors of conflict spread with the speed of shooting stars. The word “war” was repeated on every tongue.

  Confusion and unease became widespread. I saw people hoarding essential supplies. In those worrisome days, I kept wondering—should we stay, or should we flee abroad? And then, where to?

  I savored being in a safe place, sheltered from danger, when a man from the security apparatus came to me. Straight away, he said, “The State wants to know the ability of families who already have lodgings to take in those in need of shelter, God permitting.”

  Everywhere the troubles kept doubling. My mother, who lived by herself in a huge house, declared that she was prepared to take in a whole family—while I resolved to give up one room to accept two persons. Meanwhile, I grew wary of any sound or of answering any question. An informer came to my door and invited me to the station. When asked the reason for my summons, he told me nastily that he didn’t know, before our converstion was cut off by the sound of the warning siren.

  Dream 13

  Here was the airport. Its atmosphere rumbled with sundry sounds and languages. The women, having finished all their procedures, stood waiting. I drew close to them, offering each one a rose in a silver wrapper.

  “Travel safely—with prayers for your success,” I said.

  They thanked me, smiling, as one of them said, “This is a strenuous mission, and it will take years and years for us to succeed.”

  I grasped what she meant, and pain gripped my heart. We traded silent looks of farewell, as the old times passed before our eyes. The airplane moved: my vision followed it until the vessel vanished over the horizon. When I returned to the reception hall, all I could recall was my desire to find the post office.

  It was as if I had come with only this goal. I heard a voice whisper, “Do you want the post office?” Puzzled, I peered in its direction—to find a g
irl whom I had never seen before. I asked her who she was.

  “I’m Rayya’s daughter. Maybe you remember Rayya and Sakina?”

  In mounting panic, I replied, “The memory frightens me!”

  “If you want the post office,” she advised, “then follow me.”

  So—with the fiercest trepidation—I did as she said.

  Dream 14

  I was walking along the green banks of the Nile. The night was damp as the secret dialogue continued between the moon and the river’s waters, on which the luminous rays rippled. My spirit wandered through the recesses of Abbasiya, suffused with the scent of love and jasmine.

  I found myself debating the question that had assailed me from time to time—why hadn’t she visited me in a dream even once since she died, at the very least to confirm that she was real, and not merely an adolescent fantasy? Was her picture imprinted in my mind really a true likeness? Then, with the sound of music blaring from the direction of the darkened street, ghosts appeared, their forms solidified by the light of the first lamp they happened to approach. To my astonishment, the brass band was not strange to me—I had listened to it often in my youth, as it marched in the wake of funerals. This tune I almost knew by heart.

  But the truly happy coincidence was the sight of my departed sweetheart walking behind the musicians: this was surely her, with her ravishing appearance, her sublime step, and her refined face. Finally she had blessed me with a visit. Leaving the burial procession, she stood in front of me to prove that life had not all been in vain. Standing breathlessly erect, I rushed toward her with all the strength of my soul, saying to myself that this chance—to touch the darling of my heart—would never come again.

  Moving a step toward her, I took her in my arms—then heard the crackle of something breaking. Her dress felt as though it was draped over empty space—and no sooner had I discovered this, than the marvelous head fell to the ground and rolled into the river. The waves bore it away like a Rose of the Nile—leaving me to eternal grief.

  Dream 15

  A great hallway along which offices were arrayed. A government department, or perhaps a commercial agency. The employees were either sitting quietly at their desks, or moving about between their offices.

  They were made up of both sexes, obviously working well together, lightly and openly flirting with each other. I seemed to be one of the newer functionaries here, with a suitably low salary, a fact that I felt profoundly. Yet this didn’t prevent me from asking for the hand of a beautiful young lady of higher rank, who had worked here longer than me. In the event, she thanked me, but declined my request.

  “We lack what we’d need for a happy life,” she explained.

  This pierced me with a wound in the seam of my psyche.

  From that day onward, I grew wary of broaching any such subject with my female colleagues, though I was attracted to more than one of them. I felt the bitter suffering of loneliness and dejection. Then a new girl joined our service—and for the first time, I found myself in a superior position. I was an auditor, while she was a typist: my salary was twice as large as hers. She was not good looking, and, even worse, people gossiped about her immoral behavior. Out of despair, I decided to break through my isolation—so I flirted with her. She flirted back. So happy was I that I lost my head and asked her to marry me.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied.

  Not believing my ears, I pressed on, “There’s nothing wrong with my salary, especially when added with yours.”

  “Money doesn’t concern me,” she said.

  I thought of asking what did matter to her, but she’d already walked away.

  Dream 16

  The assisting doctor congratulated me on the operation’s success. Awaking from the anaesthesia, I felt deep relief and happiness for my sheer survival. I’d gone into the recovery room, when a nurse came and sat on a chair, bringing her head close to mine. After staring at me thoughtfully for quite some time, she said with intense composure, “How long I’ve waited to see you lying weak and helpless like this.”

  I looked back at her and said with dismay, “But this is the first time I’ve seen you in my life—why would you wish me any harm?”

  With malice and resentment, she replied, “The time for vengeance has come.”

  She stood up and left the room, leaving me in a vortex of perplexity, fear, and anxiety. How could this woman imagine I had ever done her ill, when I had never seen her before? The surgeon came to check on me. I clung to him, saying, “Doctor, please understand—my life is in danger!”

  He listened as I told him what had happened. He ordered all the nurses serving in the ward to file in front of me—but the one I sought was not among them.

  As he left, the doctor assured me, “You’re under our complete protection here.”

  The evil forbodings did not forsake me. Everyone who entered the room peered at me strangely, as if I’d become an object of wonder and doubt—while I saw a long road full of hardships ahead.

  Dream 17

  The quarters of Gamaliya and Abbasiya passed before me, yet I seemed to be walking in only one place.

  I imagined that someone was tailing me. I turned to look behind me, but the rain poured down more intensely than it had in years—so I scurried back to my home. I wanted to take off my clothes, but then had the uncanny feeling that a strange man was hiding in my house. His audacity infuriated me—so I screamed at him to give himself up. The door to the foyer opened and there appeared a man whose equal in size and strength I had never before seen. “Give yourself up,” he said, in a quietly sarcastic voice.

  A sense of feebleness and fear gripped me: I was certain that one blow from his elephant-sized hand would flatten me completely. Then he ordered me to give up my wallet and my overcoat. The overcoat was more important to me—yet I hesitated but a little before handing him both items. He shoved me, and I hit the ground. When I regained my feet, he had disappeared—and I wondered if I should call out to raise an alarm.

  But what had happened was contemptible and shameful, and would make me an object of jokes and ridicule—so I did nothing.

  I thought about going to the police station, but one of my friends was an officer from the detective bureau. Hence the scandal would spread one way or another.

  I decided upon silence, but this didn’t save me from worry.

  I dreaded that I would run into the thief somewhere while he was walking happily about in my coat, and with my money.

  Dream 18

  We sat on both sides of the launch. Each man appeared singly, with no relation to the others—then the pilot came and started up the boat’s motor.

  The pilot was a beautiful young girl. My heart quivered at the sight of her. She looked out of the window as I stood beneath the tree: the time was somewhere between childhood and the first stirrings of early manhood. I fixed my eye on her noble head as she speedily steered us along the river, my heart pounding in harmony with the gusts of the breeze. I thought of going up to her to see how she would receive me.

  But then I found myself on a street in one of the poorer quarters—it might have been the Ghuriya—as it was jammed with humanity on the birth-feast of Husayn. I caught sight of her making her way with difficulty down one of the winding lanes, and resolved to catch up with her—while the group of chanting celebrants fêted the martyred saint.

  Just as quickly I returned to my seat on the boat, which had covered a great stretch of the river. I glanced at the bridge, and saw that the pilot was an elderly woman with a brooding face. I looked around and wondered about the absent young beauty—and saw nothing but empty seats.

  So I began to query the old hag about the missing, lovely girl.

  Dream 19

  I was dazzled by the new apartment after it was turned over to me. I inspected every corner—and it filled my soul with joy. “Now you need a regular job,” I told myself. “You’d better get cracking without delay.”

  I went to the market. Covering a vast ar
ea, it was surrounded by a formidable wall. I presented my deed of ownership for the flat, and they let me come inside.

  The place was packed with people. I saw a great many women I had loved in the past, but all were walking arm-in-arm with their men. I proceeded to the intended window and offered my papers, the first being my proof of possession for the new apartment. The man looked them over and told me, “We don’t have any vacant positions right now. We’ll get in touch with you at the appropriate time.”

  I felt my hopes frustrated—I would have to wait a long while. I returned to cutting my way through the crowd, contemplating the rush of gorgeous faces that I had loved before. I lingered alone in the flat, while on the street I heard a man say in a booming voice, “It’s nonsense for a man to own an apartment without holding down a job. He should give it up for someone else fortunate enough to be employed.”

  I was upset by what he said—and the longer I thought about it, the truer it seemed.

  Assailed by doubt and worry, I watched for what lay hidden behind the morrow with a troubled and sleepless eye.

  Dream 20

  We went out looking for a good place to pass the time. We gazed at the crescent moon, exchanging glances—and saw by the lamplight a giant whose like was never before seen by the human eye.