The Dreams

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.