Heads peered out of windows high up—and my heart pounded when I saw they bore the faces of those I loved in my earliest days. I felt an unsurpassable pleasure, praising God that I had accepted the offer to work in Felicitous Yemen.
Dream 33
What had happened to the street, and to the whole quarter? Whatever it was, I didn’t expect anything good from what I saw.
The quarter looked completely decrepit with age. Its splendor gone, garbage was strewn here and there. I came across a laborer, and asked him, “What’s going on?”
“Only God lasts forever,” he said, smiling. “God be praised, all things change.”
I headed for my friend’s residence, expecting that what happened to the quarter would have befallen it, too, or even worse. I wouldn’t deny he was my go-between for getting some medicines I needed from abroad, just as his telephone call could solve the most intractable problems in government offices. I found him depressed and without hope, so I consoled him. “In any case,” I said, “at least you have a profession.”
“The passing days will prove that we are not worse off than anyone else,” he replied derisively.
I asked myself, is there truly anything worse? No sooner had I said this, than a group of young men and women appeared. Each one carried a bag full of things from the apartment—pyjamas and underclothes, alluring ladies’ blouses, cosmetic creams, and perfumed fragrances.
Each one left, carrying his bag.… Each item spoke of what kind of services had been offered in my friend’s flat—as it testified to his decline.
I wondered, is he really doing so well, or is he miserable with humiliation and remorse?
Dream 34
On one of the winding lanes of our quarter, I ran into two friends who were brothers: their long absence had saddened me greatly. Speechless for a moment, we threw our arms open wide and grasped each other warmly about the neck, as we recalled the griefs, the joys, and the beautiful nights of our distant past.
The two of them asked to visit my house, so I went with them toward it from a distance of some meters. They scrutinized room after room, laughing a long time, as was their custom, before expressing their regrets at the simplicity of the shelter—while mocking me with their burning, beguiling tongues. They asked what I did for a living. I told them I was a rabab player who sang about the travails of life and the betrayals of time, then performed some music for them.
“This is a beggar’s life!” they scolded me—and hence weren’t surpised when weakness and despair showed on my face.
They told me that they had been looking for me for a long time until they found me, and their concern for me had clearly not been misplaced. Yet now, they added, they had brought the good news of my imminent release from this suffering.
I praised God, then asked what this good news could be. They explained that soon I would emigrate with them to the gorgeous place of abundance and plenty. I asked, how could that be possible? They replied that, as I knew, they enjoyed a close connection to influential persons—and nothing good comes to you except through influential persons.
They then took me by the arm and walked me outside, where we met a man whose appearance and manner proclaimed he was someone of importance. He listened to the tale with a neutral expression, before saying that—for me—emigration would entail great dedication and enduring patience. He promised me a positive outcome, however, and my two friends sought to reassure me, as well.
Finally, the man said, “Wait for me at the mosque at the crack of dawn.”
Dream 35
In our house in Abbasiya, we were all going to sleep when the voice of my brother’s son awakened me.
“The roof’s on fire!” he shouted.
I arose in terror as my nephew brought a wooden ladder. We put it up in the salon and each of one of us mounted it, everyone carrying as much water as he could to throw on the fire running between the corners. I burst into my sister’s room and jarred her from her deep slumber: amazingly, she got up lazily, complaining that I never, ever let her savor her sleep. In any case, she helped us fill the buckets with water until we brought the fire under control.
We had begun to look for what caused the combustion when, in response to our neighbors’ call for help, the men of the fire brigade arrived. Opening up the balconies to inspect the furniture we had shoved onto them, they confirmed the fire had indeed died out. The disaster had come to an end—after dumbfounding us with fear.
But just as we sat down to regain our composure, the telephone rang. Here one must note the change of time and place—for our house in Abbasiya did not have a telephone. Hence we were in another home with other people altogether. On the phone was the owner of the building where we rented our apartment in Alexandria. He urged us to come without delay, for fire had broken out in our place there. He reassured us that he had called in the fire brigade and they had subdued the blaze, but naturally our presence was nonetheless needed.
Immediately my wife and I got dressed and hurried to the station for the buses taking the Desert Road north. By this time, we were so distressed and confused that I suggested to my wife that we empty the flat of our belongings and turn it back to its owner, especially as there had already been an attempted robbery there.
But she told me to wait until we saw what had been lost—and what still remained.
Dream 36
We were assembled in some sort of great hall. Then some faces appeared that I was seeing for the first time, as well as others that I knew very well that belonged to my colleagues. We were awaiting the announcement of what Fate had decreed.
The results were revealed, and I was the winner: the prize was a new, modern-style villa. There followed a tumult of comments and congratulations. Many faces were unable to conceal their sadness. Quite a few said that it was a win, all right, but also a misfortune—for where would I get the money to furnish it and pay the necessary staff, as well as to cover the water and electrical bills, to maintain the swimming pool, the air conditioning, and so on?
In truth, my dream was still but a dream: I inspected the villa nearly every day, only to meet disappointment and distress. People took advantage of my lack of experience and persuaded me to sell the place at a particular price. For an hour or so, I gleefully rejoiced at what I had gained—until it dawned on me that I had been had.
At that time, it happened that the post of general director in the civil service fell vacant. There were many candidates, some of whom had great connections, jostling madly to fill it. I met with the minister, telling him that he was my only point of influence in this affair. But he replied, “You aren’t even able to protect your own money—so how could you be trusted with everyone else’s?”
I became a peculiarity, an example of what not to be for my fellow employees. Finally, I asked that my remaining time in service be added to that already served, and to go on pension at once. At last, I felt the security of a position to which no one ever aspires out of greed, and which does not attract the eyes of the covetous.
Dream 37
The mahmal wobbled atop the camel, festooned with many colors and bouquets of flowers. Leading it was a man holding a pole upright in his mouth, bangles dangling from the pole’s head.
The camel’s head was at the level of the first floor of the house from where I watched through the window. My eye met the camel’s own, and within his eye I read a smile and an esprit that placed a blessing within me. Suddenly, I flew from my spot behind the window and spun toward the camel’s head, dressed in my gallabiya, my hair blown about. The people shouted, “God is most great!” and “There is no god but God!” and cried out incoherently at the sight of my feat. All the while, I kept rising in the air, until I landed on the roof of my house.
After the mahmal had passed, the people all flocked in front of my home, demanding to see the boy who could fly. They then turned abruptly from joyous amazement to fearful alarm, saying that an evil spirit possessed the levitating child—meaning me—and that his flig
ht around the camel’s head was an evil omen for all humanity. Therefore he must be freed of the Devil by flogging until he is cleansed completely. If he should refuse, then he would face the appropriate punishment—which was death.
Filled with fear, the lad and his family called in the police. The police chief demanded to see the miracle take place under his own eyes. He went to the house and witnessed the prodigious feat, and was truly dazzled by it. Yet he found himself torn between two points of view. The family claimed it was a wonder such as those performed by the saints—while the people denounced it as one of Satan’s pranks, and a portent of misfortune.
Finally, the police chief decided to put the boy in prison until the whole subject was lost in oblivion.
Dream 38
I was sitting in my room, listening to a song on the phonograph, when a ravishing, elegant, and exciting woman of about twenty walked through the open door. Swept away by surprise and desire, I stood up and walked toward her until I stood in front of her.
Calmly she put out her hand, which held a letter. I took it and looked at it, then replied that I could not read it due to the weakness of my eyes, and asked her to read it for me. But she apologized that she did not know how to read or write, saying that her father had composed it for the prince whose name was found on the envelope. Before he died, her father had advised her to bring the missive to me so that I might deliver it to the prince for her. My astonishment mounting, I told her that I didn’t know the prince in question—or any other prince, for that matter. I grew suspicious of her, and tried to change the subject, but then she left.
As I crossed the Qasr al-Nil bridge on my way to work, she appeared before me at the other end. I ignored her, but she followed me for not a short distance.
Coming back to my home, I discovered her quite settled in there. I warned her not to return to the subject of the letter. A long while passed, but still I wasn’t free from evil forebodings—nor, clearly, was she. Definitely, we both had to flee by one route or another.
Dream 39
I stepped into the minister’s room carrying a typewritten report bearing the names of the employees who had been nominated for promotion. My own name was among them. Obviously, the minister looked after me with special care.
The minister having signed the declaration at the top, I took it to the personnel office for action. I went straight to the official in charge, who turned out to be a beautiful young woman. Looking at the document, she noted that the minister should have put his signature at the bottom, rather than the top. Hence it was impossible to execute the orders for promotions or to give raises to those listed on it. I became exasperated and complained of the bureaucracy that we had to put up with. Nonetheless, she stuck to her position—and I brought the report back to the minister. He signed it in the correct location, laughing as he did. I returned to the young woman, handing her the declaration. Sitting to the right of her desk was a female employee friend of hers known for her cheerfulness. The friend defended what her colleague had done, saying she was withholding promotion from the unmarried employees because she believed the rights of the married ones took precedence over theirs.
The first female employee pretended she was annoyed by the broadcast of this secret. When the happy-go-lucky one met me again afterwards, she asked my opinion of the official in personnel. I told her honestly that she had delighted me, so she suggested that I inform her of my feelings by way of introduction to a proposal of marriage. I asked for time to think it over—but she said I was no longer a young man, and that my life was being wasted on mere reflection.
She insisted that I tell her—so I surrendered, and did not refuse.
Dream 40
In the early evening I was returning to my house wrapped in a coat and scarf, when a young boy and an extraordinarily lovely and miserable girl cut across my path. They asked me for a bit of God’s charity, so I searched in my pocket for some change. Not finding any, I pulled out a five-pound note and asked the boy to go to the nearest kiosk and buy me a piece of chocolate—and to keep whatever was left over.
The boy had no sooner left my sight when the girl began to weep, confessing that her brother treated her with great harshness and forced her to do bad things, and that every day these became more and more deviant and evil. She beseeched God to rescue her from her ordeal.
I felt moved and embarrassed, but then realized that the boy was not coming back. I saw how stupid I was to have placed any trust in him—and thought of how my family would accuse me of good-natured recklessness. Yet I did not leave his sister to him, but took her to my house to begin a new life with my family. Her situation so improved that she seemed more like one of us than our servant.
Then one day a policeman came, accompanied by the girl’s brother, who grabbed her on sight. I found that I was wanted at the police station—where I was faced with a charge of raping the girl and keeping her in my home by force. I was shocked by what confronted me, and asked the girl to speak. She cried and accused me of crimes I had never even imagined. The official report recorded every word as the world grew black before my eyes.
Despite my firmly rooted faith, the danger of my position did not escape me.
Dream 41
The apartment broker said to me, “Don’t get upset and don’t despair—you have to be patient: patience is a virtue.”
I knew that he knew the secret of my agony—that I was in danger of losing my home and finding myself on the street. I told him that I had seen a number of places that appealed to me, but always they were beyond my means. And what about these empty flats, whose value is appraised at a million pounds each? Amazingly, he confirmed that four of my female colleagues owned some of these vacant dwellings: he envied them their fantastic wealth.
The last hope, he informed me, was in the building of al-Hagg Ali in the Husayn district—but we had to wait for his return from Mecca. I told him that I remembered, from the days when we lived in the ancient quarter, that I myself used to buy fuul from him sometimes. The man laughed, pointing out that’s what many people claim when they want to buy an apartment in his brand-new building.
“He’s the last hope,” I remarked with fear.
Striking an encouraging tone, the broker repeated, “You have to be patient: patience is a virtue.”
Dream 42
The ship cut its way through the stately waves of the Nile. We were sitting in a circle, in the center of which reposed our teacher. Clearly we were taking the final exam, and our answers were rated excellent.
We dispersed for tea and cake. In the meantime, we received our diplomas.
The ship pulled up at the pier and we disembarked, each one bearing his degree in a giant envelope. I found myself walking down a wide street devoid of both people and buildings, when a lonely mosque loomed before me. I went toward it in order to pray and relax for a while, but when I went inside, it seemed to actually be an old house. I felt the urge to go back out, but a bunch of brigands surrounded me, taking my certificate, my watch, and my wallet, and raining a hail of blows upon me before disappearing into the recesses of the place.
I ran outside onto the street, not believing that I had survived. After walking a short way, I came across a patrol of policemen, and told their commander what had happened to me.
We all marched together to the house full of thieves. They rushed in with their weapons drawn—only to find it was a mosque where people were praying behind their imam.
Confused, we beat a hasty retreat, and the patrol’s commander ordered that I be placed under arrest.
I kept testifying over and over to what had befallen me, swearing the most sacred oath that it was true. But clearly they had begun to doubt my sanity—and I was no less perplexed than them.
Dream 43
The night of my paternal cousin’s wedding, which was being held in our house in Abbasiya, amidst drums and songs. My cousin came forward arm-in-arm with his bride, both in their wedding clothes. Before they mounted the stairs to go
into their married home, a police inspector cut them off. We all became confused and ask ourselves, “What’s behind all this?”
The inspector swooped down on the bride, closely inspecting her face, taking her fingerprints on a little pad. He examined them with a magnifying glass—then put her under arrest and walked her over to the police car. Everyone realized what that meant, and gathered around my cousin, consoling him and praising God for having saved him from an impending evil.
Despite all that, the young man went away crying. I resolved to spend the night with my family in the house in Abbasiya, but discovered that all the electric lights had failed. I asked my sister how they managed to live in the dark. I also discovered that the walls needed painting and repair. I grew annoyed with the place, wanting to fix it up and restore it to its splendor of old.
Dream 44
I found myself seated before the Minister of the Interior at his desk. A few days earlier, he had been my colleague in the newspaper: his selection as minister came as a surprise. I seized the opportunity to ask him for a meeting, and he received me with welcome and affection. Then I presented him with my request, to recommend me to a businessman known to be his friend, when I applied for a position in one of his companies.