THE SLEEPWALKER

I've always doubted the existence of sleepwalkers until recently, when I came across an essay by the poet Niu Han. In the essay, he wrote: “As a member of the so-called intellectual elite, I was beaten severely on the head by Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution. There was severe bleeding in my brain, and eventually, the blood pinched a nerve and I began to sleepwalk. The habit of sleepwalking has tortured me for almost half a century and has become part of me. I sleepwalk during the day or night. I have become a person who can never wake up from his sleep.”

Several years ago, I was introduced to Li Ying, a veteran Communist official. During our conversation, I learned that her novelist husband, Guan Dong, also suffers from sleepwalking. Thus, we began a long chat.

LIAO YIWU: I heard that your husband, Guan Dong, has written a short story that has a character who sleepwalks. Is the story autobiographical?

LI YING: You are not the first person to ask that question. I wouldn't say the whole story is autobiographical, but the part about sleepwalking is. Unlike the poet Niu Han, who suffered during the Cultural Revolution, my husband began sleepwalking under different traumatic circumstances.

In 1948, China was still ruled by the Nationalists under Chiang Kai-shek. Guan Dong was a college student who was very actively involved in the student movement against government corruption. Once, he took part in a street demonstration and scuffled with police. He was arrested and put in jail for over forty days. Finally, under public pressure, the government ordered his release. On the day when prison authorities told him that he could go home, he was asked to sign some papers, and was led down a dark hallway where he saw several dark shadows move toward him. Guan Dong immediately turned around and wanted to run. But he was blocked from all directions. His attackers held thick wooden sticks. One guy hit him right on top of his head. He let out a loud scream and passed out. After he regained consciousness, he found himself inside a spacious room of a hospital. The thugs had dumped him outside on the street and strangers brought him in. I was working as a nurse at that hospital.

That incident made him a celebrity and a hero overnight. The public began to pressure the government to investigate the case. Many believed that the government sent those thugs to beat up Guan Dong in order to intimidate other student activists. While at the hospital, several pro-Communist organizations sent representatives to visit him. Newspapers carried his story with big pictures of him. His room was always filled with flowers, most of which were sent by women. With such care and encouragement from the public, he recovered very fast. At the beginning of 1949, the Communist takeover was imminent. The Nationalist government was collapsing fast. It was chaos everywhere. Guan Dong wanted to go back home but the doctor advised him to stay on for a couple more months.

They put Guan Dong under my care. As time went by, I began to fall in love with him. One day, I was carrying a medicine tray and was about to leave the nurses station when I heard a loud scream coming from Guan Dong's room. It was as loud as the siren from a train. I was so startled that I dropped my tray, spilling meds all over the floor. I dashed toward his room and kicked the door open. Many of the medical staff also rushed over. Guess what? He was standing by the window, calmly smoking a cigarette. He acted as if nothing had happened. He didn't know why so many people had shown up at his room. He patted me on the shoulder, all smiles: What's the matter? Why is everyone here? Has anything happened?

I thought he was play-acting and became too angry to say anything. Later on, the doctor called me into his office and said: Are you sure you want to marry this guy? Guan Dong will probably never recover from his injury. Right now, there are still some blood clots inside his brain. Our hospital will not be able to remove the clots because we don't have the skills and technology. Therefore, whenever the blood pinches the nerves, he could experience memory blackouts. The episode you just saw, I mean the scream, may be the first of many such future outbursts. I was stunned, and asked if this would happen frequently. The doctor said: The same symptoms will appear when he is nervous, under stress, or overexcited. But luckily, Guan Dong is a strong person. He is an optimist. I think he will handle it OK. Nowadays, technology is developing fast. Once the conditions in our hospital have improved, we'll be able to operate and treat his illness.

That was what the doctor told me in 1949. Little did I know that his illness would drag on for over forty years without a cure. I've gotten used to his sporadic loud screams. There was one more torturous symptom that the doctor didn't mention: sleepwalking. Under normal conditions, Guan Dong has a very calm demeanor. He is a very considerate person. However, during sleepwalking, he displays another side of him—he is full of passion and excitement. He does it in a very quiet and almost soundless manner. Just like what Freud described in his book, all human dreams are abrupt and incomplete, and have a lot to do with life in our early years. Guan Dong cannot remember his dreams. I will normally tell him what I have witnessed. That's how he got to incorporate the details into his short story.

LIAO: When did he begin to sleepwalk?

LI: It was in the third month after we got married. I remember the date very well because it was right before the Communist troops moved into Beijing. Like many residents, Guan Dong was very excited because he was an idealist, believing that the Communists could change the old corrupt regime. On the night before the troops officially marched into the city, we had made arrangements with other friends to meet the next day for a celebration ceremony on the campus of Beijing University.

An hour or so after we went to bed, I woke up. I found Guan Dong had left the room. Then, I heard some faint noises coming from the public bathroom down the hallway. I slowly opened the door, and walked barefoot to the bathroom. I saw him standing in front of a mirror, shaving. I called out to him in a low hushed voice, “Guan Dong, Guan Dong.” He didn't answer me and continued with his shaving. In a few minutes, he began to wash his face very quietly. After the washing and shaving, he slowly turned around. I could see his chin was bleeding; his eyes stared straight ahead. Since he is much taller than I am, his rigid stare passed over my head. I began to realize what was going on. Since his doctor had warned me not to wake him up during his sleepwalking, saying it could cause sudden death, I rushed back to the bedroom and pretended to sleep. I was praying that he would come back to bed. But he didn't. He walked into the room, made a 180-degree turn as if in a military exercise, and walked stiffly out of the door. He was in his underwear and barefoot.

I put on clothes and followed him closely. He took a familiar path in front of the dorm building. I was afraid that he could follow this tree-lined path that led to the patient ward. That would be horrible. He passed through the garden and walked in the direction of the morgue next to the Infectious Disease Ward. I didn't know what to do except to follow him. We didn't have cell phones then, and there was no way I could call a doctor on duty to help me out. He stopped in front of the morgue, pushed the door open, and walked inside. Guan Dong made a mess inside the morgue. He pulled two corpses out from the refrigerators and then held them standing against the wall. I knocked on the door of the guard and begged him, with tears in my eyes, to help me out. Luckily, the guard didn't freak out. He picked up a thin wooden stick from the floor and walked inside. He edged closer to Guan Dong, standing side by side with him. Then, as Guan Dong was raising his arm, the guard slipped the thin wooden stick into Guan Dong's hands. The guard held one end of the stick and Guan Dong held the other. The guard began to lead Guan Dong by the stick and, strangely, he followed. After the guard led him into our dorm, Guan Dong jumped onto the bed and soon began his thunderous snore.

LIAO: That sounded pretty dangerous. Did your husband ever hurt you during his sleepwalking?

LI: He never hurt anybody during sleepwalking. When it first happened, I informed the doctor at my hospital. With their approval, I managed to put a couple of sleeping pills in his water cup and asked him to drink the water before he went to sleep each night. I also asked my neighbor to lock our door from the outside. In this way, even if he sleepwalked, he would end up walking around the house. He is not a detail-oriented person at all. He didn't know about the sleeping pills, but just said his water tasted a little strange. He never bothered to probe further. As time went by, I began to notice a pattern. As long as his mood and emotions were under control, he was OK. Guan Dong loved writing. After the new Communist government was established, they needed young people with a pro-Communist background to work in the publishing industry. Guan Dong was soon hired by a newly formed publishing house. Unfortunately, not long after he started his job, the Korean War broke out, and China joined North Korea to fight against the U.S. Guan Dong signed up with the troops without telling me. After he told me about his decision, I was shocked and tried to stop him. I couldn't tell him the truth about his illness. I was afraid he would be too traumatized.

I concocted a lie, saying that he couldn't go because I was pregnant. After he heard the news, he only laughed. In those days, young people were asked to put the interests of the country above everything else. The fact that his wife was pregnant was not a legitimate cause for deterring a husband from joining the army. So I went to ask for help from the president of the hospital, hoping he could write to the army about Guan Dong's illness. But the president was under investigation by the new government. They suspected that he was a spy for the old Nationalist regime. I wouldn't give up. I eventually located the doctor who had treated Guan Dong and dug out his old files. I excitedly clutched his files and ran over to the recruitment center. After I handed over his medical records to officers there, they told me he had already left with the troops. I was so worried. I went over to the train station and got myself a ticket to the North Korean border. Before the train reached its destination, it stopped at a small station. Some soldiers got on and asked all passengers to get off. Only those with special passes could stay on the train. I was told that the war had already started.

During the first three months, Guan Dong did a terrific job as an embedded journalist. He wrote some wonderful articles for the newspapers at home. More important, if needed, he could pick up a gun and fight like a soldier. He was a sharpshooter and was even awarded a medal. But soon he was charged with being a “U.S. spy” and was sent back to China.

Do you know why? One night, his unit was carrying out an assignment to ambush the enemy troops. As he and his comrades were hiding in the bushes, he suddenly jumped up, dropped his gun, and let out a loud scream for no reason at all. As you may have guessed, the enemy was alerted. They fired a firebomb, and within seconds the bushes where the Chinese troops were hiding were lit up. The whole plan was sabotaged and there were heavy casualties on the Chinese side. The commander had to request reinforcements so his unit could retreat. During the retreat, a bullet hit Guan Dong's leg. His comrades, who were so mad at his irrational behavior, tied him up and dragged him out of there. Later on, the hospital record that I submitted to the military saved him from being tried in a military court. He returned to Beijing, full of guilt and regrets. That guilt has haunted him all his life. However, if it hadn't been for the bullet wound in his leg, he wouldn't even remember that he screamed before the enemy fire.

LIAO: By then, Guan Dong was well aware of his illness. What did he do?

LI: He was a little depressed for a couple of weeks. He would drink alone at home. He kept saying to me: I didn't hurt you, did I? If I'm too much of a burden to you, we can file for divorce. I comforted him with the patience of a nurse: Since you love me so much, you won't hurt me. Dreams are mostly the reflections from your conscious behavior. You are a kind person, and the kindness will reflect in your subconscious behavior. That's why I'm not afraid. Guan Dong stared at me for a long time before he finally said: I hope you are not lying just to make me feel better. My outburst in North Korea led to the deaths and injuries of many of my fellow soldiers. I'm the one who should have been killed. I hugged him and said: Guan Dong, you need to snap out of your depression and cheer up. We are still young and I'm sure we'll find a cure for your illness. He was touched, and finally he said: With you by my side, I'm sure I can recover. Many years have passed and I can still remember these words vividly.

LIAO: What happened later?

LI: Guan Dong went back to the publishing house. He got along with everyone, and his boss liked him a lot. Each time he asked to take a leave of absence for treatment, his boss would give permission and provide financial help without giving him any hassles. We traveled to Shanghai and Guangzhou, and even sought help from experts in the Soviet Union, which was China's close ally in the 1950s. Nobody dared to operate on him. We had no choice but to wait for a miracle. To avoid doing any damage during his sleepwalking, Guan Dong would tire himself out by staying up very late editing manuscripts. Before he went to sleep, he would lock the bedroom door from the outside, hide all the sharp metal instruments, and then drink several shots of liquor to ensure sound sleep. He would always sleep on the living room couch.

In 1957, Chairman Mao launched his anti-Rightist campaign. Since all the writers and administrators at the publishing house enjoyed pretty close relations, the leadership only singled out a few “Rightists.” Apparently, that didn't satisfy the municipal authorities, which set quotas for every government-run organization. Since the campaign's primary target was intellectuals, the municipal government had specifically allocated a large quota to Guan Dong's company, which had a large number of editors and writers. According to Mao, writers and editors were the most dangerous ones who harbored ill feelings toward the Party. To fulfill the quota, the publishing house reluctantly named two more people who confessed that they had expressed dissatisfaction with the Party in their diaries. Then Guan Dong's boss, Mr. Wang, received a notice from the municipal government that they needed to come up with one more Rightist. If the publishing house didn't name another one, the municipal Party leadership would send a task force to investigate the company. In the end, under pressure from above, Mr. Wang made a plea at a staff meeting: If we still cannot find a Rightist, I will turn myself in since I'm responsible for every decision here. Upon hearing that, Guan Dong became impatient and stood up: You can't do that. You have a large family to support, your parents, your children and grandchildren. If you are labeled a Rightist, all your children will be implicated and their future will be ruined. Why don't you pick me to fill the quota? I don't have children. Mr. Wang asked: What does your wife think? Have you talked with her? Guan Dong answered: I don't need to. In the past, you've been so generous to me when it came to treating my illness. It's a good time for us to pay you back. I'm sure my wife would agree. We are honored that we could do this for you. Mr. Wang said, But you have not done or said anything against the Communist Party. I can't make any accusations against you. Guan Dong hesitated and said: Why don't I say something against the Communist Party now? Since everyone is here, they can testify against me. If this still doesn't work, I can say that as an editor, I used to edit all the articles written by the Rightists and counterrevolutionaries.

LIAO: That was very altruistic.

LI: He was a hero for a couple of minutes and ended up paying a hefty price in the next twenty years. Not long after he was labeled a Rightist, he was kicked out of the publishing house and we were sent down to the countryside outside Beijing for reeducation through hard labor. Before our departure, Guan Dong went back to his work unit to say goodbye to his former colleagues. It was barely two months since he had made himself a Rightist, but people seemed to have forgotten all about how it had happened. They all shunned him like he was carrying some infectious disease. A female co-worker used to be Guan Dong's good friend. When they bumped into each other in the courtyard, the woman thought he was going to attack her. She became so frightened, and while running away, she fell into a sewage ditch. The reaction from his former co-workers shocked Guan Dong. His everyday smiles disappeared. After he got home, he downed half a bottle of liquor and passed out. A few hours later, his sleepwalking resumed. This time, he broke the window and jumped out. Fortunately, we lived on the first floor of an apartment building and he didn't kill himself. This latest recurrence made him really depressed for a while. While we were in the countryside, he worked hard in the field all day. Before he went to bed at night, he would tie himself up in bed. He did that brutal thing to himself for many years until we were allowed to move back to Beijing in the late 1970s, after the central government reversed its verdict against him.

LIAO: Do you have children?

LI: No, we don't. At the beginning, we were too busy seeking treatment for his illness. After the Great Leap Forward in the late 1950s, famine hit China. With people dying in the millions, it was senseless for us to even consider having children. After the famine passed and food became relatively abundant in 1964, I told Guan Dong that I wanted to have a baby. But he was worried that his Rightist label could taint the future of his kids.

LIAO: How did the famine affect you and Guan Dong?

LI: Many Rightists suffered or died in the famine. Since I worked at a rural hospital, doctors and nurses were allocated more food than ordinary peasants. On top of that, Guan Dong constantly went to harass the county officials for extra food. Since we didn't get to eat meat, our only source of protein was placenta, which I picked up from my hospital. Locals didn't want to touch the stuff for superstitious reasons. We were quite lucky that we survived.

LIAO: Now that medical conditions have greatly improved, has Guan Dong been able to find a cure for his illness?

LI: I assume that he could go have the surgery now but he doesn't want to spend the money. He said jokingly that the devil had already inhabited his brain for many years. If the doctor took it out, there would be an empty hole in his brain and he wouldn't like it. What nonsense! He is already in his seventies and he still acts like a kid. We have taken quite a lot of preventive measures. We have a small courtyard house. We always lock the door in the evenings so he can't walk too far in his sleep. Sometimes, he would get up in the middle of the night, shave, and read in his study. One time, I got up quietly and took a peek through the door of the study. Unexpectedly, he began to talk: My dear, what are you doing there? I was so startled. Guess what? He was not sleepwalking, he was awake. He just doesn't sleep that much these days.

Guan Dong remains young at heart. In the late 1980s, the government was planning to shut down a well-known youth magazine because the editor published an article that allegedly contravened Party policy. The decision aroused anger from many intellectuals. When Guan Dong heard about it, he put on a T-shirt and ran barefoot to the office of the Party official who had played a key role in the shutdown. Guan Dong sat in the conference room and began to scream and cry. He made quite a commotion in there and drew a large sympathetic crowd. When everyone gathered, he gave a speech on why the Party shouldn't suppress freedom of speech. He was so crazy. Since he was retired and had experienced so much in life, they didn't know what to do about him.

Recently, while he was reading late at night, he came across a magazine article about sleepwalking. He was so excited that he woke me up, and said: Look, it says here that in South America, there is a village for sleepwalkers. People work at night and sleepwalk during the daytime. If tourists visit the village at noon, they will see many people sleeping under the trees or sleepwalking on the street. The village is so quiet. The village will come to life after dusk. The shops are open. People get up and then resume their nightly business. By midnight, the whole village is lit up like daytime. The circus will come in and the whole place is packed with locals and tourists.

LIAO: I've also heard about that story.

LI: Guan Dong doesn't believe it's a story. He truly thinks this place exists. He is now collecting materials, hoping he could visit the village before he dies. He says: That is the home for sleepwalkers. If you don't sleepwalk, you are considered a freak. Isn't that great? I assume that Gabriel Garcia Márquez must have visited the place. His book One Hundred Years of Solitude is written in such a dreamlike style. Sometimes, in my dreams, I thought I have written lots of great stuff on paper. When I wake up the next day, it is still a piece of blank paper. Nothing has been written down.

LIAO: It seems that sleepwalking is both a misfortune and a blessing for Guan Dong. In a way, sleepwalking offers him some sort of dreamlike world that he can escape to, I mean, temporarily away from this murky world we live in. A pure and innocent person like Guan Dong deserves to live in heaven.

LI: Despite all the hardships we have encountered in life, I think Guan Dong has always been living in heaven.