Free The Dreams by Naguib Mahfouz

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

    B eneath 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.
    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, nearlylosing 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

    S uch 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