The Dreams by Naguib Mahfouz
Indeed, they were models of cleanliness, prestige, and respectability. Each time one of them appeared, they jumped with terror of the rod in my hand. Following this, I became utterly convinced that the sun would rise tomorrow over a world of greenery and pristine air.
Dream 77
I turned onto the quiet side street carrying my overnight bag. Instantly I met memories and passions, encircled by peril and trepidation.
I expected to be scolded for my long absence; hence I’d prepared the appropriate excuses.
Reaching the building’s entrance, I saw the flat on the ground floor, four steps away from the staircase. Grinning broadly, I pressed the buzzer eagerly. The peep window opened to reveal a strange man dressed in a house robe who seemed to be the place’s owner. Suddenly my burning passion plunged to the bottom of a freezing lake. Quickly I concocted a phoney story to extricate myself from this impasse. I said I was looking for the residence of the schoolteacher, So-and-So Effendi, but had come to the wrong building.
Searching my face with wary suspicion, the man said, “This is his flat—he’s inside. What’s your name, sir, so that I may tell him you’re here?”
I realized that I had been found out and had lost face. Raising his voice, the man shouted, “You’re nothing but a vicious liar, like all who’ve come here before you!”
Not able to bear more, I scurried away in defeat, nearly losing my balance. The bag dropped from my hand, exposing a bottle of wine and a kilogram of kabab on a paper plate. But I could think of one thing only: to vanish with lightning speed.
Dream 78
Such a gigantic funeral—I didn’t know how to join the procession. I didn’t know anyone walking in it, not even the man who had died. The strangest thing is that the funeral took a route not used before, heading off toward a network of railroad tracks. We crossed over them into the wasteland, then paused for rest.
During this time, the trains heading north and south arrived. This sparked an argument among those gathered around the bier. One group wanted to carry it to the south, and the other to the north. Both claimed that they were carrying out the wish of the deceased. One of the wise men called out to remind them that the dearly departed was among the righteous friends of God—and would never permit anyone to carry him in an unsatisfactory direction.
We all contemplated the sanctity of what he said. The southern-bound troupe tried to carry the bier, but was unable, while the northerners also hazarded their luck, only to meet with failure, too. At that point everyone realized that the saint didn’t want to leave the place where he was, lying between south and north.
Dream 79
I sat on the balcony of the little hotel overlooking the sea, so absorbed in waiting for my girlfriend that I was oblivious to the gorgeous view. As the waiting dragged on, the hotel manager, who happened to be a childhood friend, came over to suggest that I cure myself of my worry by taking a walk.
I went to the shore where I kept marching back and forth, until I spotted my lover in a swimming race with a group of young men. One of them went with her out of sight behind a rock. I felt a stabbing pain in my heart and an unfathomable frustration. Sensing this, the manager said, “That’s the way of the world—don’t surrender to sadness.”
“You know, I know many things,” I replied, “but I don’t know how to swim.” So he took me to a quiet corner of the hotel garden, where I spent a distressed and anxious hour. Then, to my complete surprise, my girlfriend came toward me, her face grinning with happiness. I leapt up to pour out the weight of my anger, and in so doing encountered yet another surprise—completely unexpected, and incomprehensible, too, defying any explanation. For I was suddenly overcome with limitless joy as the grief was wiped out of my breast altogether, as if it had never been there. And so we greeted each other, in the way we always had in the past.
We walked around the city, as we usually did. Passing a gift shop, we went inside without wavering, heading straight for the department devoted to engagements and weddings.
My lover’s eyes studied the innumerable items. Finally she said, “We don’t have enough time.”
“We have all time,” I innocently replied.
Dream 80
We gathered in the old room: my mother, my four sisters, and me. No sooner had we closed the door upon ourselves than complaints arose about times past and people we knew.
My mother turned toward me apprehensively, swearing an oath that all she had ever done or said was out of the purest love. At this, voices were raised, demanding, “If that’s true, then how do you explain what happened?”
Scoldingly, my mother replied, “You have to account for yourselves, as well: don’t try to tell me it was all written and decreed.”
Dream 81
At long last I went to the mansion. I asked the doorman to inform the eminent woman that the winner of her literary prize had come to present his thanks in person, if only she would permit him.
The man soon returned to bring me into the reception hall, whose beauty and vastness dazzled me. Before long a musical tune signaling welcome was played for me—and I spied the enchanting figure of the madam moving gracefully to its rhythm. I undertook to present my letter of thanks—but she, with a chic sweep of her hands, opened up her breasts, drawing from between them a neat little gun.
She pointed it at me. I forgot the letter—fainting away before she could pull the tiny pistol’s trigger.
Dream 82
I was pleased that the new director had taken over the institute’s affairs—though I had not taken part in his selection. Yet every time I spoke appreciatively of him, my colleagues attacked me with sarcasm. This left me confused between approval on one side, and derision on the other. But I refused absolutely ever to despair.
Dream 83
I watched the cart carrying the enchantress of Crimson Lane coming, and drawing it was a winged stallion. I got in and sat at the rear. The steed responded by spreading its wings, and the cart began to fly until we were higher than the rooftops and minarets—and in seconds we arrived at the Great Pyramid’s pinnacle. We started to pass over it from an arm’s height above it. But then I rashly leapt down onto the pyramid’s summit, my eyes never parting from the seductive girl as she soared upward and upward—and the nightfall descended, the darkness ever deepening, until she was fixed in the heavens as a luminous star.
Dream 84
I dreamed I was on the Street of Love, as I used to call it in my hopeful youth. I dreamed that I sauntered between grand houses and gardens perfumed with flowers. But where was the mansion of my worshipped one? Gone without a trace, its place had been taken by a huge mosque of majestic dimensions, of magnificent design, with the tallest and most graceful of minarets. I was shocked. As I stood there in a stupor, the muezzin started the call for the sunset prayer. Without tarrying I went into the mosque, praying with the worshippers. When the prayers were finished, I moved slowly, as though not wanting to leave. Hence I was the last one departing to reach the door. There I discovered that my shoes had gone missing—and I had to find my own way out.
Dream 85
A tram station—and I was confused as to where in it I should wait for mine to arrive. But I was really awaiting the radiant face of the beauty in the window overlooking the stop, at which I kept on staring and staring.
My longing went on and on, and how many of my friends had asked me how long my torture would continue? Yet I was going on a trip that I could not avoid, as though it were Fate or Destiny. In truth, it was a strenuous, debilitating journey, much longer that I thought it would be. And on my return, the only thing that I could make out was a square-shaped enclosure, which was the window.
I spotted her within it, but she appeared to be mute, neither asking questions, nor answering them. As in the past, I stood beneath the aperture indifferent to the passers-by, until finally the sound of a conversation drifted down, like a whisper mingled with discreet laughter.
I heard a voice wonder, “What’s th
“He’s blubbering over the memory of a sweetheart—and her house,” came her giggling reply.
Dream 86
I was entrusted with carrying a letter to the late Dr. Husayn Fawzi. I told him that I had brought with me a proposal to restore him to the service with a significant increase in salary. He would also receive a luxurious office.
The doctor laughed, saying that the pay didn’t interest him, nor did the office. What mattered was respect for his ideas and his dignity.
I backed away, secure in the knowledge that my mission had failed.
Dream 87
The crime was discovered early in the morning. Before long, the story of its beastliness was on every tongue. Yet I couldn’t find anywhere to hide because the whole place was crisscrossed with policemen and female psychiatrists. I was in total panic until the greatest of the lady shrinks invited me to her office.
She told me that the majority of her colleagues attributed the crime’s brutality to the latent cruelty in the perpetrator’s character. She, however, thought it was due to the killer’s inexperience, as well as his ignorance of the modern scientific bases for the art of murder. For this reason she had decided to enroll him in the Institute for Contemporary Criminality—and may God grant him success!
Dream 88
In our village, every individual was waiting for the letter that would settle their personal destiny. One day, I received my own letter—and read it to find I had been condemned to death by hanging.
Word spread far and wide, as was customary among us. The members of our village club met and decided to celebrate the event when it happened.
In my house, where I lived with my mother, brothers, and sisters, breasts were gladdened and all were pleased. On the much-anticipated day, the drums pounded in the club. I came out of my house wearing my finest clothes, surrounded by the members of my family.
But then my mother, separating herself from our state of mind, began to cry. If only my father had lived long enough, she wailed, to see for himself this glorious day.
Dream 89
From my position in the garden I could see a lady of sixty coming toward me, her face frowning. Angrily, she snarled, “Because of you, I lost the prize.”
I recalled the woman and her upset face—but I couldn’t get the meaning of what she was saying. She kept repeating, “The committee disqualified my story on the pretext that it was a copy of your story published forty years ago.”
Suddenly everything became clear. I could see that bad luck still plagued her as she told me, “I swore to them my story could not be so accused, simply because it’s my own biography.”
Exasperated, I replied, “I certainly agree: I lifted bits from the events of your life in which I played a despicable role.”
The woman answered, laughing sarcastically, “Here’s a chance for me to be your victim in real life—and not just in fiction.”
Dream 90
The building of the house was finished: an architectural marvel, people from all over gathered around it, each hoping to possess it. The haggling increased and the arguments intensified until a giant cut through the crowd, roaring in a ringing voice, “Force is the answer.”
The people fell silent—except for one man, who answered the challenge. A feverish battle raged between them until the giant dealt a blow to his opponent’s head, knocking him unconscious. Then the giant broke into the house and locked it up completely after him.
The hours passed without the door opening to provide a chance for vengeance. Those standing outside took no useful action, while seeming as though they would not disperse.
Dream 91
In the beginning was the wagon. I was pushing it before me with power and mirth. One day I found a little girl atop it, and became even more active and gay. Then more people kept coming until they covered the whole wagon, sapping away all my strength and merriment. The riders sensed my sufferings. I determined to abandon the wagon as soon as a good opportunity arose. With the passage of days, the wagon emptied, returning to the way it was before. As for me, I didn’t go back, but grew weaker and weaker, until finally I became indifferent to the wagon, and collapsed beside it.
Dream 92
There I was in a radiant reception hall. In my hands was a golden platter filled with all manner of delectable delights.
I was reminded of the brilliant evening companions among our lifelong friends who had left this world. I began to see them approaching, their resonant laughter preceding them. We traded salaams of greeting, as they began to praise the platter and what it presented. Yet my happiness was suddenly extinguished when I exclaimed that I could not partake with them, for the doctors had categorically forbidden me ever to smoke.
Surprise showed on their faces as they scrutinized me intensely. They asked dismissively, “Are you still afraid of Death?”
Dream 93
On top of a nearby home I spied furniture, wrapped and decorated. Then I remembered that I’d heard the house’s owner had turned the place into a cultural institute for which he charged no admission: he was content to live on the roof.
Pleased by this, I admired him for it, and was invited to attend some of his lessons. I found the place crammed with humanity. The man said today’s lesson would be about the bull that bore the world on his horn. His speech struck me as odd, and a derisory laugh escaped me. Faces glazed with anger turned toward me.
The man himself fixed me with a glowering stare, silently pointing to the door.
Dream 94
Five men wielding switchblades seized me: I gave them my money and they fled with confusing speed. Yet some of their features remained imprinted in my memory.
Since that incident, I have avoided walking alone on the side streets, though the main road is never devoid of its own ordeals. One day I found the traffic stopped and the people gathered on either side.
Before long came a convoy of many cars. As the last part of it passed before me, I saw a face that made my heart leap, and began to mutter, “There must be so many who look the same.”
Dream 95
The journey’s start was agreed. The family met the news contentedly, hastening to advance me money.
I went immediately to the tailor to be fitted for a suit in the latest fashion, and the man truly did an outstanding job. Still, he wasn’t satisfied.
Producing an elegant turban, he thrust it on my head. “Now,” he said, “the suit’s in the current style.”
Dream 96
The fighting grew fiercer along the roads until its rattle and ruckus brought all means of transport to a complete halt. I returned exhausted to my home—where I longed to lighten my tiredness under the water of my shower. When I went into the bath, I found my girl inside, drying off her nude body. Completely transformed, I rushed toward her, but she pushed me far away from her—warning that the warring in the streets was growing closer to my house.
Dream 97
Here was the office of the Secretariat, where I spent a lifetime before going on pension. Here, too, I had been companion to the cream of employees, in all of whose funerals Fate decreed that I take part.
I stared inside the room to see the youths who had succeeded us, and was nearly felled by the shock—for I found no one there but my old colleagues. I rushed inside, shouting, “God’s peace upon my dear ones!” with anticipation, confusion, and unease. Yet not one of them raised his head from his papers, and I withdrew back unto myself in frustration and despair.
When the time came to go, they left their places without any of them turning to look at me—not even the lovely lady translator. And so I found myself alone in the empty chamber.
Dream 98
From my prospect on the sidewalk, I cast my gaze onto the garden enclosed by the iron fence. There I saw the queen of my heart as she dispensed chocolates to lovers gathered there.
I raced toward the fence’s gate until I reached the entrance, pa
I wanted to return whence I came, but exhaustion, prolonged reflection, and the lost opportunity would not let me.
Dream 99
This was a circular field in whose center was a slender date palm, and around which little houses were clustered. In the afternoon, the doors would open and women would come out to chat under the palm. Usually the conversation was about marriage and their daughters. I would withdraw far away to follow what they were saying with zeal.
When the sun set I would be devoured by hunger. No one would know of my condition except for my childhood girlfriend who would slink up to me carrying a small plate, one half of it filled with white cheese, the other smothered in parsley.