8

Dreams

I heard a rumor that A. was sick and this gave me some solace. Right away, I resolved that I’d visit him.

I could almost see it: I’d knock softly on his door, enter, and stand by his bed contritely, knowing that his illness was caused by pining away for me. Holding my breath as I looked at him lying there, his face pale and his eyes closed, I’d order my heart to beat more softly so as not to wake him. He’d half-open his eyes, sensing my presence, and a pained smile would appear on his lips. He’d reach out his hot, dry hand toward me.

I’d lower myself onto my knees in front of his bed and press his hand to my lips. He’d gaze at me with a weak but contented smile and say, “You came. I knew that you’d come. You angel—don’t leave me! Sit right here. Lay your hand on my forehead. How I love your touch! Why, oh, why did you ask me to return my letters? I gave them back to you, I did, but it hurt me so!”

“I was jealous of them,” I’d say with a sad smile. “You kept them by your side, but you left me.”

“Will you give them back to me? You haven’t torn them up, have you?”

“Torn up your letters? After all, they’re yours! I’ll bring them back to you, all of them, and I’ll write you more letters besides.”

“I’ll save you the trouble of writing. Everything that you want to say, you can say to me out loud. Will you?”

“I will.”

But we wouldn’t speak. Our eyes, our silence, would speak for us. We’d understand each other without words. We love each other. Love! Love!

This is how I fantasized about him as I was on my way to visit him. When I neared the house where he lived I was gripped by an instinctive fear of reality. My legs buckled as my hands hesitantly reached out to knock on the door.

Did I knock? I think I almost did, but the door opened right away and there he was, with someone else. They looked happy, like they were about to go out and have a good time. I wanted to run for it and jump down the stairs but it was too late. He’d already seen me. Affecting a formal tone to mask his astonishment, he asked what I wanted.

“Nothing! I made a mistake. I knocked on the wrong door. Excuse me.” Having said this, I climbed sheepishly up the stairs. It was obvious that there was no one there I intended to see.

He watched me leave, stunned. He would have gone after me, no doubt, but the woman he was with urged him to hurry, they were running late. As for me, I hid in a corner like a thief, waiting to hear the gate close behind them, and only then I went home, utterly humiliated.

For a while I lay awake in bed and thought about my dream and about what really happened. I went on thinking until the thoughts and memories blended together. I closed my eyes and I felt as though I were being lifted higher and higher, all the way to heaven, to God.

“State your request!” demanded an angel as he flew toward me.

“I want—to leave this world. I want to be in heaven.”

“Your time to leave this world has not yet come. Pray for something that you need.”

“Pray? What should I ask for? Perhaps weights and balances to measure my love.”

“That’s something you shouldn’t ask for,” the angel scolded. “It’s not right. Too cheap, too small. You should give love without measure, even until you give all you have. Woe to anyone who measures and weighs love. Now come a little higher; soon they will pronounce a judgment for a man whose heart of stone could not be penetrated by the God of Love’s arrows. Come!”

Clasped under the angel’s white wing, I flew higher. I sat on the heights of a snow-white cloud.

“The judgment is coming!” the angel whispered in my ear. With bated breath I strained so I wouldn’t miss a single word.

“This man,” said one of the older angels, gesturing toward a young man, “as handsome as an angel, was preoccupied with measuring, calculating, whatever he gave to others. He was stingy, he kept everything for himself, and as a result others suffered terribly. Now let’s hear what he has to say in his own defense.”

A hush fell over the angels. There was a frightful expression in their heavenly eyes. Out of this silence the voice of the accused sounded like a broken reed.

“I calculated every last thing because I didn’t know how long I’d live. I couldn’t give my love to just one person because I had a big heart and wanted to give it to many people.”

“Your heart is large enough for many people but too small for the one who gave you everything, who gave up her whole life for you!” cried out an angel. “Enough! We will deliberate on this sinner’s punishment!”

All of the angels flew away but did not tarry long. Soon they returned with the ruling: “This man who weighs and balances everything will be punished with his own weights and balances. He will see plentiful goodness here in heaven but will not get any more than he was capable of giving. He may reside in gan eydn, but his palace there will be so sparse that it will be gehenem for him.”

I looked at the defendant and I thought of A. He was young and handsome too, and he was also miserly with his love. I prayed to God, “Forgive him, for it was You who gave him the weights and balances, and You who did not soften his heart. If You had wanted, You could have enriched his soul, You could have made him a better man!”

“That is no argument,” came the answer to my request from on high. “A man is given many things, but what he does with them depends on him. He must decide for himself.”

“All by himself?”

“Yes, alone.”

“And is he given enough wisdom to make such choices?”

“Yes, he is given wisdom.”

“And a heart too?”

“And a heart.”

“And also a soul?”

“And a soul.”

“And a will?”

“And a will! Yes!” The voice was growing angry.

“Did You also give all of this to the man that I love?”

God was silent.

“Give it to him!” I begged.

“You, Daughter of Israel, should not bother the Eternal One with requests for another,” my angel told me.

“But my happiness depends on another.”

“He must make a petition for himself.”

“He, himself?”

My angel left me. Heavy clouds drifted above me and pressed me back to the ground. Everything swam before my eyes and I collapsed with a shudder. I woke up.