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 went crazy with confusion. My bewilderment doubled when I saw the others singing in one room, and dancing in another. I looked to my girlfriend pleading for salvation, only to find her calm and smiling.
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.
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.