The Dreams

Dream 6

The telephone rang and the voice at the other end said, “Shaykh Muharram, your teacher, speaking.”

I answered politely with a reverent air, “My mentor is most welcome.”

“I’m coming to visit you,” he said.

“Looking forward to receiving you,” I replied.

I felt not the slightest astonishment — though I had walked in his funeral procession some sixty years before. A host of indelible memories came back to me about my old instructor. I remembered his handsome face and his elegant clothes — and the extremely harsh way he treated his pupils. The shaykh showed up with his lustrous jubba and caftan, and his spiraling turban, saying without prologue, “Over there, I have dwelt with many reciters of ancient verse, as well as experts on religion. After talking with them, I realized that some of the lessons I used to give you were in need of correction. I have written the corrections on this paper I have brought you.”

Having said this, he laid a folder on the table, and left.