THE
DREAMER
by
Max Reif
There
was a man who could do nothing but write. He had to be led in a
city like someone who was blind. Otherwise, he stood on corners
and gazed
as though oblivious to his surroundings.
If his helper led him to a table and chair, the man would sit, but
he could
still do nothing. But if his helper gave him a notebook and pen,
he would begin
to make pleasant-sounding noises in his throat. Then, if anyone
asked, "What
can you do?", the man would say, "I....can....dream!"
It so happened that his dreaming could be connected to his pen,
so as to
record image, thought, and emotion, as accurately as an EEG machine
records brain waves. The man was now a maker, a maker of dreams.
Now
in the city where he lived, men and women had forgotten how to
dream. They began to hear of the dreamer in their midst, and foundat
first a
few, then hundreds, and finally thousands of themthe house
with the table
and chair where his helper had led him.
Outside the building, the people would gather, awaiting the news
of the
dreams. The helper would come out from time to time and hang the
freshly-
recorded dreams for all to see. And the people would read, and be
amazed,
and go away refreshed and fulfilled.
"He dreams of a new world!
" they would say, in awe. "He dreams of a
new worldright here!"
And the dreams would record where
people should put thingsgardens
and monuments and wonderful new buildings, marvellous to the eye,
where
the citizens could meet. And the dreams would tell of the wonderful
new
things they would do when they met: of the cities they would design,
and how
they would live in these cities, as in a world beyond
dreams.
continued
on page 2
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