NAGUIB MAHFOUZ
THE DREAMS
Naguib Mahfouz was one of the most prominent writers of Arabic fiction in the twentieth century. He was born in 1911 in Cairo and began writing at the age of seventeen. His first novel was published in 1939. Throughout his career, he wrote nearly forty novel-length works and hundreds of short stories. In 1988 Mr. Mahfouz was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. He died in 2006.
Raymond Stock is writing a biography of Naguib Mahfouz. He is the translator of numerous works by Mahfouz, including Voices from the Other World, Khufu’s Wisdom, and The Seventh Heaven.
THE FOLLOWING TITLES BY NAGUIB MAHFOUZ
ARE ALSO PUBLISHED BY ANCHOR BOOKS
The Beggar, The Thief and the Dogs, Autumn Quail
(omnibus edition)
Respected Sir, Wedding Song, The Search
(omnnibus edition)
The Beginning and the End
The Time and the Place and Other Stories
Midaq Alley
The Journey of Ibn Fattouma
Miramar
Adrift on the Nile
The Harafish
Arabian Nights and Days
Children of the Alley
Echoes of an Autobiography
The Day the Leader Was Killed
Akhenaten, Dweller in Truth
Voices from the Other World
Khufu’s Wisdom
Rhadopis of Nubia
Thebes at War
Seventh Heaven
The Thief and the Dogs
Karnak Café
Morning and Evening Talk
The Cairo Trilogy
Palace Walk
Palace of Desire
Sugar Street
First Anchor Books Edition, July 2009
The Dreams, translation copyright © 2004 by Raymond Stock
Dreams of Departure, translation copyright © 2007 by Raymond Stock
Translator’s Afterword copyright © 2009 by Raymond Stock
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Anchor Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. The Dreams was originally published in hardcover in the United States by The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo and New York, in 2004, and Dreams of Departure was originally published in hardcover in the United States by The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo and New York, in 2007.
Anchor Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All of these stories, with the exception of Dreams I–VI, which appeared in the daily al-Ahram (Cairo: December 9, 2005), were originally published in Arabic in Egypt in the magazine Nisf al-dunya (Cairo: January 2000 to September 2006). Copyright © 2000–2006 by Naguib Mahfouz. This translation was first published as two separate works The Dreams and Dreams of Departure by The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo and New York, in 2004 and 2007 respectively. The numbering of these stories follows that of their original Arabic publication as Ahlam fatrat al-naqaha, with Dreams I–VI appearing between Dreams 176 and 177. Portions of the Afterword to this work were first published as the Introduction to The Dreams and the Afterword to Dreams of Departure.
Dreams 105, 106, 113, 117, 128, 148, 151, 155, 157, 161, 172, 179, and 188 originally appeared as “Thirteen Dreams” in the Southwest Review (Spring 2007) and were reprinted in Harper’s magazine (July 2007). An adapted version of the 2007 Translator’s Afterword by Raymond Stock appeared as “Naguib Mahfouz Dreams—and Departs” in this same issue of the Southwest Review.
The Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress.
eISBN: 978-0-307-80677-2
www.anchorbooks.com
v3.1
Contents
Cover
About the Author
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Note to the Reader
Dream 1
Dream 2
Dream 3
Dream 4
Dream 5
Dream 6
Dream 7
Dream 8
Dream 9
Dream 10
Dream 11
Dream 12
Dream 13
Dream 14
Dream 15
Dream 16
Dream 17
Dream 18
Dream 19
Dream 20
Dream 21
Dream 22
Dream 23
Dream 24
Dream 25
Dream 26
Dream 27
Dream 28
Dream 29
Dream 30
Dream 31
Dream 32
Dream 33
Dream 34
Dream 35
Dream 36
Dream 37
Dream 38
Dream 39
Dream 40
Dream 41
Dream 42
Dream 43
Dream 44
Dream 45
Dream 46
Dream 47
Dream 48
Dream 49
Dream 50
Dream 51
Dream 52
Dream 53
Dream 54
Dream 55
Dream 56
Dream 57
Dream 58
Dream 59
Dream 60
Dream 61
Dream 62
Dream 63
Dream 64
Dream 65
Dream 66
Dream 67
Dream 68
Dream 69
Dream 70
Dream 71
Dream 72
Dream 73
Dream 74
Dream 75
Dream 76
Dream 77
Dream 78
Dream 79
Dream 80
Dream 81
Dream 82
Dream 83
Dream 84
Dream 85
Dream 86
Dream 87
Dream 88
Dream 89
Dream 90
Dream 91
Dream 92
Dream 93
Dream 94
Dream 95
Dream 96
Dream 97
Dream 98
Dream 99
Dream 100
Dream 101
Dream 102
Dream 103
Dream 104
Dream 105
Dream 106
Dream 107
Dream 108
Dream 109
Dream 110
Dream 111
Dream 112
Dream 113
Dream 114
Dream 115
Dream 116
Dream 117
Dream 118
Dream 119
Dream 120
Dream 121
Dream 122
Dream 123
Dream 124
Dream 125
Dream 126
Dream 127
Dream 128
Dream 129
Dream 130
Dream 131
Dream 132
Dream 133
Dream 134
Dream 135
Dream 136
Dream 137
Dream 138
Dream 139
Dream 140
Dream 141
Dream 142
Dream 143
Dream 144
Dream 145
Dream 146
Dream 147
Dream 148
Dream 149
Dream 150
Dream 151
Dream 152
Dream 153
Dream 154
Dream 155
Dream 156
Dream 157
Dream 158
Dream 159
Dream 160
Dream 161
Dream 162
Dream 163
Dream 164
Dream 165
Dream 166
Dream 167
Dream 168
Dream 169
Dream 170
Dream 171
Dream 172
Dream 173
Dream 174
Dream 175
Dream 176
Dream I
Dream II
Dream III
Dream IV
Dream V
Dream VI
Dream 177
Dream 178
Dream 179
Dream 180
Dream 181
Dream 182
Dream 183
Dream 184
Dream 185
Dream 186
Dream 187
Dream 188
Dream 189
Dream 190
Dream 191
Dream 192
Dream 193
Dream 194
Dream 195
Dream 196
Dream 197
Dream 198
Dream 199
Dream 200
Dream 201
Dream 202
Dream 203
Dream 204
Dream 205
Dream 206
Translator’s Afterword
Notes
Glossary
Acknowledgments
Note to the Reader
The stories in this edition of The Dreams were originally published by the American University in Cairo Press in two volumes, The Dreams (2004) and Dreams of Departure (2007). The numbering of the stories follows that of their original Arabic publication in the Cairo magazine Nisf al-dunya from January 2000 to September 2006. However, between Dreams 176 and 177 are six dreams (numbers I–VI) that appeared in the Cairo daily al-Ahram on December 9, 2005, shortly before the author’s last birthday, placed where they fall chronologically in the magazine’s sequence. (See Translator’s Afterword.)
Dream 1
I was riding my bicycle from one place to another, driven by hunger, in search of a restaurant fit for my limited means. At each one I found its doors locked, and when my eyes fell on the clock in the square I saw my friend at its foot.
He called me over with a wave of his hand, so I headed my bike in his direction. In view of my condition, he suggested that, in order to make my quest easier, I leave my bicycle with him. I followed his suggestion—and my hunger and my search grew even more intense, until I happened upon a family eatery.
Propelled by the need for food and by despair, I approached it, though I knew how expensive it was. I saw the owner standing at the entrance before a hanging curtain. What could I do but to throw it open—only to find the place changed into a ruin filled with refuse in place of its grand hall readied with culinary delights. Dismayed, I asked the man, “What’s going on?”
“Hurry over to the kabab-seller of youth,” he answered. “Maybe you can catch him before he shuts down.”
Not wasting any time, I ran back to the clock in the square—but found neither the bicycle there, nor my friend.
Dream 2
We entered the apartment, the girl in the lead and I right behind her, while the doorman carried our bags. The girl and I had a firm relationship—though it was somehow undefined. We had begun to arrange our things when I sauntered onto the balcony overlooking the sea, and became lost in its vague horizons, intoxicated by its broken roar and its humid breeze.
Suddenly a scream issued from inside the flat. I scurried toward it to find the girl convulsed in terror as flames licked through the top of the doorway. Before I could recover from the shock, a man with features so hard they seemed cut from stone came in and—with a wave of his hand—put out the fire.
“Maybe the water service here will be cut off for a while,” he said, turning toward us—then went away.
My mind now at rest, I left my room for the supermarket to buy some needed things. Coming back, I discovered the apartment door open with the doorman standing around. I went into the flat, feeling anxious, and found it was bare but for a fat package of clothes tossed onto the floor. An arm from a pair of pyjamas stuck out through a hole in its wrapping. There was no trace of the girl.
“What’s happened?” I wondered.
“You must have gotten mixed up, sir, on your way here—this is not your apartment,” the doorman replied.
Staring at the protruding arm, I said, “Those pyjamas are mine!”
He replied calmly, “You’ll find thousands like them in the shops.”
I began to accept that I’d erred, especially in recalling that there were three buildings in a row that resembled each other here. Quickly I raced down the stairway to the street—and saw the girl walking through its emptiness toward the square jammed with people and with cars. I ran to catch up with her before she melted into the crowd.
Dream 3
At the center of the boat’s deck was a mast. A man was bound to it by a rope that wrapped around him from his upper torso to his lower legs. He twisted his head violently both right and left, crying out from his wounded depths, “When will this torture end?”
Three of us looked toward him with sympathy, exchanging confused glances with each other. A voice asked him, “Who’s doing this to you?”
The tormented man replied, as his head continued to thrash from side to side, “I’m the one doing it.”
“Why?”
“This is the punishment I deserve.”
“For what offence?”
“Ignorance,” he said, sighing with anger.
“We knew you as one who had a dream, as well as experience,” I answered him. “We did not know that rage lies latent in every person.”
“You were also ignorant of the fact,” he batted back, his voice rising, “that no human being can be stripped of all nobility, no matter how wretched their condition!”
At this, we were conquered by sadness and silence.
Dream 4
A huge, spacious hall, completely empty but with many doors. The three of us were standing in a hidden corner. My two friends strutted about like dandies, even wearing neckties, while I made do with a Moroccan jellaba—yet, thanks to our closeness as friends, I felt no embarrassment.
I heard a movement, and looked to see a man who came from I don’t know where dressed in formal attire, suggesting that he was some sort of master of ceremonies. I wrapped my jellaba around myself and said to my two friends, “I’m afraid there’s a party going on here!”
They replied, one after the other: “I don’t think so.”
“That’s not important.”
I became aware of another movement and when I looked I saw two men similar to the first joining him. At this point, all doubt vanished and I bolted to the nearest door. When I opened it, it was as if I found myself facing a barrier formed by the wall of the reception hall. I repeated this with every door, but all my attempts were frustrated like the first. So I went back to my two friends, insinuated myself between them, and hid myself there.
I was somewhat reassured, however, that the three men took no notice of us at all.
I watched the movements around us as the invitees poured in from every direction.
The place kept filling up without any of them even looking at us, for all had their eyes focused on one place. I felt compelled to do as they were doing, when suddenly a magnificent person with the look of a leader appeared, as the din of applause grew louder. Each time the man advanced a step, th
e clapping grew stronger. Yet, at the same time, they warned him against going toward the door that it appeared he was heading for. So I said to my two companions, “He’ll open it to find the doorway blocked, with no escape.”
Amid the growing cheers and the continued warnings, the man opened the door, then disappeared from view as he ducked inside.
Dream 5
I am walking aimlessly without anywhere in particular to go when suddenly I encounter a surprising event that had never before entered my mind—every step I take turns the street upside-down into a circus. The walls and buildings and cars and passersby all disappear, and in their place a big top arises with its tiered seats and long, hanging ropes, filled with trapezes and animal cages, with actors and acrobats and musclemen and even a clown. At first I am so happy that I could soar with joy. But as I move from street to street where the miracle is repeated over and over, my pleasure subsides and my irritation grows until I tire from the walking and the looking around, and I long in my soul to go back to my home. But just as I delight once again to see the familiar face of the world, and trust that soon my relief will arrive, I open the door—and find the clown there to greet me, giggling.
Dream 6
The telephone rang and the voice at the other end said, “Shaykh Muharram, your teacher, speaking.”
I answered politely with a reverent air, “My mentor is most welcome.”
“I’m coming to visit you,” he said.
“Looking forward to receiving you,” I replied.
I felt not the slightest astonishment—though I had walked in his funeral procession some sixty years before. A host of indelible memories came back to me about my old instructor. I remembered his handsome face and his elegant clothes—and the extremely harsh way he treated his pupils. The shaykh showed up with his lustrous jubba and caftan, and his spiraling turban, saying without prologue, “Over there, I have dwelt with many reciters of ancient verse, as well as experts on religion. After talking with them, I realized that some of the lessons I used to give you were in need of correction. I have written the corrections on this paper I have brought you.”
Having said this, he laid a folder on the table, and left.
Dream 7
What a stupendous square, crammed with people and cars! I stood on the station’s sidewalk, waiting for the arrival of Tram Number 3. It was nearly sunset. I wanted to go home, even though no one waited for me there.