The Dreams

Dream 89

From my position in the garden I could see a lady of sixty coming toward me, her face frowning. Angrily, she snarled, “Because of you, I lost the prize.”

I recalled the woman and her upset face — but I couldn’t get the meaning of what she was saying. She kept repeating, “The committee disqualified my story on the pretext that it was a copy of your story published forty years ago.”

Suddenly everything became clear. I could see that bad luck still plagued her as she told me, “I swore to them my story could not be so accused, simply because it’s my own biography.”

Exasperated, I replied, “I certainly agree: I lifted bits from the events of your life in which I played a despicable role.”

The woman answered, laughing sarcastically, “Here’s a chance for me to be your victim in real life — and not just in fiction.”