People have told me that in New York it is easy to go a whole day, doing everything you need to do, without saying more than two words to anyone; never having a conversation worth more than the rhetorical question of how are you and the obliged thank you response. You can probably even get away without even feeling the need to force a smile. It is too easy, and do not like it all… The rewards of looking a stranger in the eyes, and spending two minutes to hear how their day truly is, far exceeds the timidity of introducing yourself and the risk of potential embarrassment. Because not everyone smiles back, but I promise you, you’ll genuinely smile when they do…
When he was a child he had this reoccurring dream that he was running and running and the ground underneath him kept moving downwards and breaking. Almost like an earthquake. It was daytime in the middle of the desert, dust was flying all around, and he wasn’t running from anything in particular, just running because the earth was breaking down. The dream was never frightening, and he always woke up feeling well rested and simply relieved that the earth was not as it was in his dream. He reflects back on this dream now, and knows that it meant his life would be unstable. And it is a bit unstable, so he isn’t so surprised. Before his first son was born he dreamt of gold, piles and piles of gold all around him. He tells me in Islamic religion people believe in their dreams; people are aware of what their dreams have shown them, and frequently go to see people to interpret and sort through their dreams. Much like I would contemplate seeing a therapist, or a psychiatrist for that matter, they have their dreams analyzed and palms read. Manaan studied these practices in his youth. He studied the sciences too, the real sciences as he calls them, none of this social science nonsense, those were not creditable sciences when he was a kid. Math he explains to me, doubles your thinking capacity, and you must understand this to better understand what is seemingly less scientific- like the reading of palms and dream interpretation.
In his early thirties he had dream that told the story of his life. His cousin was soon to be married to a beautiful woman from another village. Manaan explains to me that before a man and woman marry, all of the male relatives travel into the town to meet the bride before the wedding ceremony in the village. I think that what he is referring to as town is more like a city by our standards, and village is more like a town – however, I did not feel it was necessary to interrupt the story for more clarification at this time, because he was deep in the troughs of reminiscing, so absorbed with his own descriptions that he was not even paying attention to the line of customers that had now formed at the cash register. He tells to me this journey to town is what you did according to the tradition, so the dream was entirely realistic and he remembers it vividly. On the way back from the town, they stopped for a night to sleep in a very small town, which had nothing more than a primary school and a few homes. They slept there at the home of some family friends, and that night in his dreams, he dreamt of the very same situation he was in, however in his dream, his father was on this little adventure with him. This would be impossible in reality, because his father died when he was just a teenager. This is the unrealistic element in the dream inside of a dream, but he implores me to understand that these distinctions are unnecessary.
In the dream he and his father were in the kitchen talking all through the night. Here his father told him, as he never had before, that he must stay at the village and take care of the extended family. His father advised him that this would be best for the family as a whole, and contrary to Manaan’s ambition, his life was not meant to be lived in the town, nor should he move abroad as he so desired. Stay in the village Manaan, stay in the village, stay, that is what you should do. Still today he can hear his father’s words. Then somewhat abruptly, Manaan stops the story there and looks at me smiling, and while raising his hands to indicate the space we are in and while shrugging his shoulders, says: you know, I always wanted to move abroad. He lives here in New York City to make money to send home to his family, where the majority of them still live in this village. In his immediate family, he has three children and a wife; his eldest son is twenty-five, and studying to become a doctor. This son is currently his greatest concern. He is worried that his son will marry for love while he is still young and not marry the woman that Manaan and his wife choose for him; this, as he tells me while shaking his head from side to side, and waving his finger, will be very bad for the whole family, and he will be unhappy by his age. So what do you dream about now, I ask Manaan. He is not sure, he does not dream so much anymore. This dream with his father still haunts him today, probably because he did not respect it, and began working in the town as soon as he could. I ask him if he is happy, he asks me what is happiness, and then answers to himself: happiness is to be natural, simple, and okay everyday. To live simply, and to know my wife is not with another man. In my country happiness is different. And I am a good, honest man.
As I have been standing in this kiosk for quite some time, eight different men have walked in and bought a lottery ticket. The lotto was three million that day, what do you think these men dream of? I am not sure what Manaan means by this different definition of happiness, but I guarantee you that he knows it won’t be found by scratching the gray part off of a lucky piece of paper. However, with that being said, I’m not quite sure he is convinced that it is found in that extra five hundred dollars he sends home each month either.
Listen to what your dreams tell you, he cautions me, those and your palms are not deceptive. After a two second glance at my palm, he laughs and says: clumsy, very clumsy, good but sloppy. I pull my hand away laughing and decide that was enough, but he continues to read… I am strong willed, so I’ll figure out how to be content, not so much money, but still stable. A son first, definitely; and a daughter, maybe, if I’m lucky. I’ll have one love, a good husband, but not a perfect fit. And with a smile as he shakes his head: he’ll probably run around, he’s just not a perfect fit.