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First published in Dari (Afghanistan) under the title Hazakhana-e khwab wa ekhtenagh
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'Fuck your father! '
Before falling asleep, I must cross my arms over my heart and recite one of the ninety-nine names of God one hundred and one times. Al-Ba'ith, one. Al-Ba'ith, two. Al-Ba'ith, three ... My grandfather used to say that Da Mullah Saed Mustafa told him that by reciting the ninety-nine names you can tame all the creatures in a nightmare. Al-Ba'ith, four. Al-Ba'ith, five. Al-Ba'ith, six . . .
Nothing but darkness. Am I still dreaming? Al-Ba'ith ... how many? Dream within dream! Al-Ba'ith . . . Nightmare within nightmare! Al-Ba'ith . . . Blackness within blackness! Al-Ba'ith . . .
'Get up, Father! '
Yes, I have died and I've been buried too. I've been buried in the family vault. Perhaps, who knows, I've been buried next to my grandfather. Or perhaps next to a child and his mother. Da Mullah Saed Mustafa used to say to my grandfather that when the deceased is interred in the grave, he first meets those people buried next to him, then the relatives who died shortly before him. Who knows? Maybe my grandfather will come to see me. He will come. He's bound to come and say, 'So now you believe everything Da Mullah Saed Mustafa said! Didn't I warn you about the terrifying black-faced angels Da Mullah Saed Mustafa said descend upon the depraved alcoholic when he dies? And the words of the angel of death who commands the deceased: "You cursed soul, leave this body and flee to your wrathful God!"? This angel then pierces the soul with a spear that, since the beginning of time, has been tempered in fire and brimstone, making the soul skitter about like a drop of mercury. But nothing can escape the angel of death. The other angels arrive to haul the soul up to heaven. God orders them to write the sinner's name in the list of the damned. Then He sends the soul back down to earth to rejoin its corpse. After that, the two interrogating angels, Nakir and Munkar, visit the grave to question the sinner's soul: "Tell us the name of your God? What is your religion? Who is Mohammed?" The corrupt soul replies "I do not know" to each of these questions. So God tells his angels: "My creature lies. Light the flames of hellfire beneath him, and prop the gates of hell wide open so that the fearsome heat will burn him!" And then the gravestone he lies beneath begins to press down on his chest so his ribs are all crushed together . . .'
'Oi! Don't you understand? Come here!'
against the light. But I opened them quick at the sound of his voice. 'Name! '
'Stop! '
No, I am not dreaming. I am not trapped in a nightmare. I am not lost in Barzakh. I am alive and I am awake! Look, I can take the glass from the woman and drink this water ... I can feel the water coursing through my body. I can feel my burning throat, my aching bones ... No. This is not a dream. I can clearly make out the slim face of this woman, the dark hair veiling her profile . . .
Al-Mumit. Al-Mumit ...
The child strokes my forehead. I can see him. He's smiling at me. And suddenly, I want to laugh too - laugh at how helpless I am, laugh at
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