The Dreams

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Authors: Naguib Mahfouz
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

    S uch 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

    I n 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

    T he 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 for the people of the house.
    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

    H e was the best in our young days, a truly rare kind of friend. Wondrously light of

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