The Dreams

Dream 53

I inquired about my friend, and was told that the great musician and songwriter, Shaykh Zakariya Ahmad, chanted his tunes each night in his house until dawn. “What good fortune!” I exclaimed, and was invited to come by one evening.

I went into the vast room, whose walls were embellished with arabesques, and saw Shaykh Zakariya seated on a couch, cradling his ‘ud. He sang, “Would that please God?” as his family — women and children — sat in a circle around a man hanging by his feet.

Beneath the man’s head, but an arm’s length away sat a great vat of acid.

I became confused.

My confusion was compounded when I realized that everyone present was following the songs, paying not the slightest heed to the man being tortured.