The Dreams by Naguib Mahfouz
As fate would have it, I found myself in the waiting room of a government department, in my hand the service file of an employee who had been following in my footsteps, and who demanded a promotion. From experience I knew that the subject fell within the purview of the personnel department.
I looked for this office, but found no trace of it anywhere. As I passed before the storerooms, the door opened and out of it came a colleague whom God had taken from us a good month before. He seized the file from my hand and returned to the magazines, claiming that the subject was really his specialty.
His apparition made me forget what I had come there to do.
Dream 63
This green land was surrounded by a wall of medium height, enough to conceal what was happening within from those outside. From behind the wall projected an obelisk with a flag on its pinnacle, while the ground around it was covered with young people and their commotion.
At first I imagined this was an athletic club. But after looking about more carefully I became convinced it was a circus—for here was a group marching four abreast, and there was a troupe whose members traded shouts and kicks, while another group exchanged insults with every move. As for the rest of the youths, they sang anthems such as had never been heard before.
Wanting to learn more, I found myself beyond the great wall of the city, which a gigantic street sliced through. On both sides of the road, the crowds gathered outside the wall, their cheers rising up to the flag on top of the obelisk. Finally, the great door opened, from which issued a procession, car after car. In each car a young man sat in regal attitude, looking down at the people from on high, returning their greetings with arrogance and scorn.
Dream 64
In horrific terror, my feet were nailed to the ground—for at only an arm’s length from me, three huge, savage dogs were rearing up on their hind legs, ready to leap and tear me to pieces—if a woman hadn’t daringly grabbed their tails.
On my right stood a female dog in the full splendor of youth, with a wondrously smooth, white coat, watching what was going on with an anxiety that showed in the constant twitchings of her short-cropped tail.
The three dogs’ barking rose higher in a thunderous crescendo, the burning lust to destroy me gleaming in their eyes. Unable to get at me, they turned suddenly and pounced on the woman—and my heart was gripped by panic. Then the dogs threw themselves at me. As for the beautiful bitch, she stared at me for a while—then hesitated a fleeting moment before heedlessly plunging into the fray.
Dream 65
The academic year was done, and the date for the examination was declared. We hadn’t once cracked a book nor memorized a sentence—and now we had to think about what to do.
A few of us still retained some respect for rationality, and so decided not to sit for the exam. The rest, however—afire with derision and mockery—seized the chance to show off by choosing to take the test anyway. On the famous morning we formed ourselves into lines and donned masks of seriousness and concern. Then the head of the committee stood up, announcing in a booming voice that he would hand out two papers to us. One of them contained the questions and the other the correct answers.
With this, we practically lost our minds—for we had not dreamed that any of our professors could possibly surpass us in the love of absurdity and the bizarre.
Dream 66
The owner and I came to an agreement—and the man invited me to inspect what we had reached agreement about. He showed me his beautiful apartment, his stunning wife, and her three-year-old son. I was pleased with what I saw and so made an appointment for nine o’clock the next morning when the property would become mine.
An irresistible force drove me to the flat. The door opened—and it was the owner himself. Seeing me, he became enraged and slammed the door in my face, rattling the walls. I spent the night without sleeping, wondering with great agitation about Destiny and the slamming of the door.
Dream 67
A huge building—you wouldn’t miss it. Originally it housed the ministry that employed me. When I saw young people going back to it, I too wanted to visit it.
Inside I ran into a group of old colleagues and I was glad to see them. We walked from room to room and through memory after memory until we had made the past rise from its musty tomb. We passed a huge, amazing staircase and I immediately ascended to the third floor. There I found many young men. Whenever one of them would notice me, his face would frown at me disapprovingly.
My heart pounded. I felt the need to urinate. I looked here and there until my eyes settled upon an opening that led to a W.C. in a passage between the rooms. I scurried toward it to find workmen laboring diligently on the site—the project was not yet finished.
Going back whence I came, I quickly discovered there was no escape but by way of the street.
Dream 68
Such a gorgeous place. The sky and the ground and all between them were the color of white roses. The people were miracles of grace and serenity.
But its true miracle was that all the friends I’ve had in my life were gathered there, not only the living, but also the dead—though no one seemed the least bit surprised about those. We did not ask them what they had found in the other world, nor did they query us about what has happened on earth since their demise.
We all enjoyed this state so much, we wished it could go on and on. But it did not last—for black clouds descended from the heavens until darkness spread everywhere, separating us from each other. Rain poured down in waterfalls, followed by thunder and lightning, without any respite—until our hearts were in our throats.
Then some of our friends’ voices began to penetrate our ears.
One called out, “This is the end!”
A second shouted, “I see the gleam of an exit on the horizon!”
A third declared, “No matter what, there’s no escaping the final reckoning.”
Dream 69
In the center of this forest rose a hill in the shape of a pyramid. One climbed it through terraced stone passageways decorated with rows of date palms, beds of flowers, and shelters for lovers. I secluded myself with my sweetheart in one of these hideaways.
We swam together in a secret dialogue which removed all awareness of existence from our minds. Suddenly my companion stood up—and in the blink of an eye abandoned our refuge. I got up to catch her and to make sure that she was all right, when a voice like thunder came at me. Projected by an amplifier, it warned people of the presence of a time bomb, urging them to leave the hill immediately and without delay. Everyone rushed toward the rocky passageways. As I glanced around, a group of security forces joined us at a safe distance away.
I looked for my lover, but could find no trace of her anywhere: where could she have gone? Was there, then, any relationship between her and this crime? Would that not subject me, as well, to such an accusation, despite my innocence?
I heard the closest one of those who had stopped me say to his girlfriend that his heart told him, “The whole thing is false.” I wondered if God believed the man’s intuition, while I lingered—torn between thinking about my lost companion, and the expected explosion!
Dream 70
The longing to see my dear ones called to me, and I set off in the direction of the ancient quarter. As usual, I took a short cut on foot until the old house appeared, along with my memories.
I wasted no time in starting to climb toward the third and final floor. But halfway up the stairs, I was stricken by an exhaustion that would not pass, and which made me think about putting off the journey. If it weren’t for my stubborn character—which hates to go back on a commitment—as well as for the intensity of my effort, I would not have made it until I reached the third-floor landing.
From my new vantage point, I could see the apartment door immersed in quiet and calm, and I realized that there were only ten more steps before the end of the staircase. Yet I did not see a single stair, finding in their place a deep pit. My heart pounded with fear fo
Though it was now impossible to reach my goal, I did not look behind me. I did not think of going back, nor did I lose hope. I kept my eyes fixed on the door drowning in silence and tranquillity—as I cried out, and cried out, and cried out again from somewhere deep within me.
Dream 71
He was the best in our young days, a truly rare kind of friend. Wondrously light of spirit, bright of repartee, elegant of riposte, brilliant at trading jibes, with a rich fund of stories, he was unusually gifted in all these fields. And he was always ready to join us whenever the occasion called for singing, dancing, or any form of amusement.
This is how we enjoyed our time together until he was chosen for a prestigious position known in our country for its gravitas and majesty. We watched apprehensively and soon our fears were realized, for he told us, as though replying to our anxiety, that he had decided to change his life from A to Z. No one questioned him on this as he bid us goodbye, commending us to God.
He would encounter us on public occasions, greeting us with an intense formality that deepened our feelings of estrangement and despair. Our old intimacy waned and practically disappeared, and we no longer heard of him except in the announcements of transfers and promotions. He began to fade from our consciousness until we nearly forgot him altogether. Time furthered our separation, until Fate decreed that we should meet by chance as our country was fêting its new national day—and we all came out to take part in the fun.
The drums were beaten as the brass band played. The army’s troupe led the way, followed by that of the police, then the cars carrying the elite. Right ahead of them was our old friend, but in a state we would never have imagined—for we beheld him riding an ass. The clash between the inanity of his mount and the grandiosity of his dress was screamingly clear: the people laughed when he appeared.
Yet, it may truly be said, he looked neither to right or left, nor did he surrender a hair of his dignity.
Dream 72
The old house in Abbasiya was filled with the migratory birds—my brothers and sisters—on the day we had agreed to visit our mother. They asked me to have a meal of seafood prepared from the famous fish restaurant nearby.
Immediately I went to the restaurant and placed the order, and found that all of the tables were full except for the one nearest the door. I went over to it, sat down at one end of it and waited. Then a woman of about sixty, accompanied by a younger woman of around twenty, approached and sat down at the table. The waiter came with plates of tagin.
Unexpectedly, the older woman invited me to share their repast. Just as unexpectedly, I silently accepted the invitation and began to eat their food. No sooner had the waiter brought the meal wrapped up for the people at our house than I grabbed it, got up, and left without thanks or excuse. As I exited the restaurant I saw at but an arm’s length away my departed friend, A. Sh., and was enormously pleased. Out of excessive courtesy I offered him the package. Without uttering a word he took it eagerly, before stepping through an open door—which he closed and locked behind him.
Astonished at his behavior, I had no choice but to return to the restaurant and make the order again. As the waiter brought sweets to the lady and her young companion, they invited me to share this with them; I did so without hesitation.
The woman told me that she wished to go to Shari’ Bayn al-Sarayat, but did not know how to get there. I consented to take her and the three of us walked through the streets of Abbasiya. We became acquainted through the exchange of thanks and various kinds of conversation until we passed Shari’ Bayn al-Sarayat without my noticing it.
I also forgot the food that was readied for me at the restaurant—just as I forgot the men and women waiting for me at the old house in Abbasiya.
Dream 73
Back in the old house in Abbasiya, I’m evidently annoyed because nothing came of my criticism, such as painting the walls or fixing the woodwork, the floors, and the furniture.
Then, from the far end of the flat, my mother’s voice calls out in a sweet, pleasant tone that it’s time I went out looking for a new apartment that would please me.
At this, the time and the place switch as I find myself in a reception hall, with many rooms and people. The way it looks reminds me of a government agency. This is confirmed by the arrival of my departed colleague, Mr. H.A., who informs me that the minister had sent a request to see me. Immediately I dashed to the minister’s office, and, excusing myself, entered it—to find the man in other than his usual smiling state. He said that he had dreamed about my criticism of the revolution and its leader, which had wounded him grievously. I told him that I considered myself blindly infatuated with the principles of the revolution rather than being among those who opposed it—though I also always wished for its perfect completion, and for the avoidance of stumbles and setbacks.
Again I was taken through other times and places until I was a little boy meandering through Bayt al-Qadi Square. A friend my own age invited me to the wedding of his older brother. He said that his brother had invited Sa’d Zaghlul to officiate at the party and to give it his blessings—and that the great man had accepted, promising to attend. Utterly astounded, I told him, “Even more important than currently being prime minister, Sa’d Zaghlul is our nation’s leader. What’s more, you aren’t among his relatives, or his comrades in the struggle.”
“Sa’d truly is the nation’s leader,” the boy rejoined, “and singles out the simple people for his affection”—adding that I would see for myself.
At the appointed time I went to the feast in Crimson Lane, where my friend guided me into a room. There—in the place of honor—I saw Sa’d Zaghlul, wearing the suit of the master of ceremonies, sitting down with him. The two were engrossed in conversation, laughing hard together. I was so dazzled by what I saw that it rooted itself in my depths forever.
Dream 74
The giant playing field sat in the place of the neighbors’ houses on the opposite side of the street, filled with British soldiers singing and dancing about. Disturbed and uneasy, we followed them, then they scattered down our street and those branching off from it.
We thought the matter over, fixing our attention on the move from one part of town to another. Not finding a proper house we contented ourselves with a stately apartment, sparing no effort until it was worthy to live in. We had just about settled comfortably into the place when we heard a rustling sound of the sort usually made by mice. Our leisure was spoiled. But before we could think of what to do, we heard someone banging on the outside door.
Opening the door, I saw many men armed with sticks. They said they were residents of the building who were chasing a thief—which, they thought, had fled into our flat. Forcing their way into our apartment, they ransacked the rooms, making a dreadful racket—only to announce that they had not found the fugitive.
After having turned our home upside down, they left without having caught the vanished crook. As we exchanged looks of irritation and rage, we once again heard the same rustling sound. Furious, I declared that—whether a mouse, a thief, or a demon—I would not open the door for anyone banging again.
Dream 75
My mother greeted our dear neighbor and her beautiful daughter in the living room on the third floor of our old house. I was invited to sit with them out of trust in the friendship between our two families.
During all the chatter I stared at the daughter and she stared at me—this was not lost on her mother. As she left the room, the neighbor woman whispered to me, “You two should go down together to the floor below as is customary among members of the family.” I accepted the invitation with perplexity and perfect joy. No sooner had we entered the floor below when I drew her close—but before I could go the next step I heard a strange commotion as the place was overrun with women and men and teenagers, splitting off into different rooms.
Then a man from State Security came and stood before the door, declaring that he would uphold the law, and I nearly we
At that, I decided to flee—but found the security man at the exit. I was stuck there motionless, a prey to befuddlement, and dashed by despair.
Dream 76
Beneath this leafy tree sat my friend from my early days who was martyred for love of country. Though it had been decades since his death, he looked quite elegant and in the pink of health and cheer.
The sight of him made my chest flutter as I rushed toward him—but he halted me with a wave of his walking stick. I reminded him of our time as friends, but he paid no heed to my words—saying that he had run out of patience regarding the neighborhood rubbish heap.
After this speech, he threw down his stick and went away, leaving me sad. Yet I swelled up with a new spirit and hurried immediately to the trash pile, raining a hail of blows all over it with his cane. Each blow cut a gap in it: from each gap men and women emerged whose general appearance was unlike garbage.