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Dream

“The word « Dream » borrows its blazing connotation out of the very close kinship it weaves with vision and imagination. This mercurial word, « Dream », consists of, at least, two luxurious connotations too tempting for any interpretation to resist. The first one is linked to prophets and visionaries and is, consequently, related to inspiration and clairvoyance. The second connotation is connected with a conscious vision towards the Self and the World, a vision that qualifies the dreamer to preview the future on deeply human perspective armed with a clear view of Existence in its ambiguous relationship with Man’s hazy destiny. This second connotation of the word « Dream » sounds closer to the literary field.

Contrary to Freud, who regards dream as the guardian of sleep, I deeply believe that dream is the guardian of creativity. ” Moustapha Laghtiri

Only the word «dream» sneaked out of his memory, progressing slowly but persistently past all the barriers. He felt it coming along from the unknown depths, taking off the cloudy curtains, floating clearly, struggling for the sole sake of being. His mind, so anxiously, seized it. Only then, he found himself face to face with yesterday’s dream.

Having seized the thread of the dream, he stretched his limbs out to get rid of the remaining traces of sleep. The dream had such a strong impact on him but he could remember nothing of it at that moment.

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and surrendered to a wonderful sensation that he would surely remember his dream in full… In his mind’s eye, there emerged the river… Yes, he remembers now that water was dominant in the dream… He travelled with his eyes around the dark room, stretched his feet towards his flip-flops… The river was running swiftly… And then?

He went into the bathroom… His limbs were getting more and more awake… He leaned down on the sink … He turned the tap on …He meditated on the water flow and sprayed his face with handfuls of water … He felt the coldness awakening him … Oh, Dream ! It escapes the mind the way water runs through his fingers… However, he should remember the dream … He did not know the reason why he believed that this dream was bringing along some message… There was the river… There was water running… There was also the dominance of one colour … He could not remember that colour… Then, there were trees … Yes, there were trees stretching their branches high in the sky… There he was, running… He cannot forget that…

He looked at the mirror… His face was pale… He observed the hairs growing on his chin that made the sad look on his face even sadder… He remembered that, while running, he never left his place… Otherwise, why did the same scene keep running along the whole dream: water, trees? …

He got out of the bathroom… He could not remember the most important thing in the dream… There was a message… Was it a word? …A symbol? …A sign he should understand? … A flavour? … He remembered that he was striving to interpret the message while still in sleep and that, so reassured of his results, he turned over and went to sleep again after a light awakening…

He went into the kitchen…was that a voice, an image or a sensation? ... How could he have a real answer? ... He got his breakfast ready…The dream shadowed everything…

« Running was tiring and the river was flowing fast. I can decide that its colour was crimson ».

He sat down… He sipped some tea… All of a sudden, he remembered that he had looked at the sky and that there was a bird that fully captured his attention… Now, he was overcome by joy … He was on the right path since he remembered the bird… He broke a piece of bread… things were getting clearer and clearer… He wished he could catch the bird … So, he continued running and the bird went on flying… The bird was surprisingly close … That may be the reason why he wanted to catch it… suddenly he saw that the bird was across the river…

The images of the dream returned slowly which made him happy. …He sipped several cups of his tea … And then ? Yes, now he could remember… While trying to interpret the dream, he had a powerful feeling that catching the bird would be a sign of good luck, while missing the bird would be sign of bad luck… He ran twice as fast as before… He was running without leaving his spot… Suddenly, he found himself running across the surface of the water, his feet never breaking the surface or getting wet… He felt joyful, and at that moment the bird began flying towards him… It was getting nearer, as if offering itself to him… Suddenly, he felt a change taking place deep inside him… It was a great surprise for him to see himself flying beside the bird… Flying was an irresistible pleasure; the river beneath him was a wonder…

He stretched out on his chair, happy to have come up to this extent of memory… The message of the dream was now quite clear…It is only then that the world seemed to be in his own hands, that a happy event was on the way to being achieved and that all he had to do was just to sit and wait.

The writer, Moustapha Laghtiri, is a Moroccan shortstory writer, born in 1965 in Casablanca. Author of:"A Woman’s Hallucinations” (Short stories) in 2001, ”A Little Bit Of Shame" in 2004 (Short stories) and "A Parasol On A Tomb" in 2006 (Short stories).

The translator, Mohamed Said Raihani, is a Moroccan translator, scholar & short story writer, born in 1968 in Ksar El Kébir. He published in Arabic "The Will of Individuation" (Semiotic Study on First-names) 2001, "Waiting For the Morning" (Short stories) 2003, "Thus Spoke Santa Lugar-Verde" (Short stories) 2005, "The Season Of Migration to Anywhere" (Short stories) 2006. He is getting ready for printing: "Beyond Writing & Reading "-(testimonies) and "Kais & Juliette" (E-Love Novel).

" Dream" is the eighth narrative text in the "The Moroccan Dream", Anthology of Moroccan new short story directed by Mohamed Saïd Raihani.