24 Restless Hours

The street sweeper's broom passed right in front of me and brushed the dust and dirt from the sidewalk into my face.
I asked myself, "What happened? Where am I? I wasn't dreaming, was I? But I wasn't sleeping, and I saw my father's hand cart
and heard the noise of taxis. Then my eyes fell on the buildings of the intersection area in the morning twilight. So I was awake.
The street sweeper had swept past me but still was throwing up dust and dirt, making streaks on the sidewalk, and moving forward.
I said to myself, "So, all of that was a dream? No! …Yes, it was a dream. No! …No! …No! …"
The street sweeper came back and stared at me. My father bent over from the hand cart and asked, "Latif, are you sleeping?"
"No! . .No! . ."
"If you're not sleeping, why are you shouting?" my father asked. "Come up beside me." I went up. My father put his arm under
my head but I didn't go to sleep. My stomach gnawed. My stomach was stuck right against my backbone. My father saw that I
wasn't sleeping and said, "You were late last night and I was tired so I went to sleep early."
"Two cars had an accident, and I stood and watched. That's why I was late." Then I said, "Father, camels can talk and fly…."
"No, they can't."
“Yes, you're right," I said, "They don't have wings."
"Son, what's the matter with you? Every morning when you wake up you talk about, camels."
I was thinking about something else and said, "Being rich is a good thing, Father, isn't it? A person can eat anything he wants and
have anything he wants. Isn't that right, Father?"
"Don't be ungrateful, Son. God Himself knows well who to make rich and who to make penniless."
My father always said this.
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