Ahmet Tanpinar - The Time Regulation Institute

“My dear friend,” he said, “it is truly vast, even endless, this treasure trove we’ve inherited from the people of the past.”

Why must we always nod our heads when remembering our ancestors? Was this some kind of custom, a tradition, or a new malady we’d contracted?

That day we talked about the dream-interpretation manuals until evening. Dr. Ramiz planned to write a report on them for a congress to be held in Vienna. Assuring me that I was well versed in the topic, he asked for my help. His opinion of me suddenly had changed: he was no longer my doctor; he no longer saw me as a patient committed to the Department of Justice Medical Facility; we were now just two good friends. Every other moment he slapped me on the back and told me how important it was that we succeed.

Leaving him that evening, I asked which dreams I should have that night. He looked at me with confusion in his eyes. “The paper,” he said, “just write the paper! The congress is right around the corner!”

Naturally the paper was never written. But my new friend had inadvertently introduced me to an entirely new field of research. All at once he had recognized the importance of our old practices: onomancy, numerology, alchemy, sensology — the full gamut of Seyit Lutfullah’s repertoire (to use the parlance of the theater) and every other bit of hopeless, shoddily conceived science I might find hidden in a vast expanse of old manuscripts. The strangest thing was that he planned to acquire all this learning through me.

“My dear doctor, there are already books covering these topics. A brief wander through the bookstalls in Beyazıt will make that all too clear. You can purchase a stack of such tomes for less than ten liras!”

“But first you must explain it to me. Then of course we shall consult the books. But science, you see, is an oral tradition. Marvel at how I taught you psychoanalysis in only a few days.”

Thank God just around that time the judge responsible for my case finally read through my file with a little more care and found that my statements agreed with those of Abdüsselam’s daughter and son-in-law, and determined, at least in terms of the articles of the case that applied to me, that enough evidence had been compiled. On one of those days when Dr. Ramiz made no reference to the report he was to write on the condition of my health (so consumed was he by his work in his new field of dream interpretation), the judge came to the miraculous conclusion that I had been cured and was to be acquitted of all charges or, better put, that I was to remain outside the realm of the case.

Good and evil are interchangeable. And they travel in pairs. The night before my acquittal was announced, I succeeded in conjuring up a dream that would very much have pleased Dr. Ramiz, a dream that will forever cause me to question my personality and that will poison my thoughts each time I remember it.

V

I dreamt I was in the laboratory behind Aristidi Efendi’s pharmacy. Almost everyone I knew was there — Nuri Efendi, Seyit Lutfullah, Abdüsselam Bey and his eldest son, and Dr. Ramiz — and they were all eagerly observing one of Aristidi Efendi’s experiments. But was it the laboratory or the children’s room in our home? I couldn’t see the enormous heap of furniture, the mirrors, dressers, or cradles. Yet somehow it was the children’s room and the laboratory at the same time. And all those people weren’t really there, but I knew they were — I knew we were all there together, for suddenly we were all peering into that strange mirror that startled me whenever I crept into the children’s room at night, the light from the corridor revealing my reflection in the glass. The alembic and the mirror had become one, or was it that the tube was bubbling inside the frame? A terra-cotta-colored mixture was boiling furiously in the alembic, and a blackish cloud of smoke with veins the color of sulfur swelled up and down inside the tube.

I heard a shout beside me:

“They’re about to separate. Watch out!”

And with ever-increasing agitation, we stared at the mud- and earth-colored cloud of smoke hovering above the alembic as it coiled like some strange creature.

Suddenly I heard Seyit Lutfullah’s voice.

“Aha! That’s it… It’s done!”

And just then a bright-green light flashed above the alembic, and the black cloud collapsed inside the tube like a clod of mud. A feathery vapor rose slowly from the center of the sulfurous light. My heart pounding in fear, I leaned over as far as I could, as if I were stepping into the mirror.

“That’s it… Oh yes! Now, now…,” Lutfullah cried, and then continued with his strange incantations.

My heart was still racing and it seemed as if somehow I knew what was about to happen. I begged him: “Don’t do it. Abort the plan. Don’t do it!”

Suddenly the white cloud changed shape, and I saw Emine’s face, her hair aflame in the sulfurous cloud, her lips pale, and her eyes open wide. “Save me!” she cried. I tried to leap toward the alembic or the mirror, but I couldn’t move; it seemed like hundreds of hands were holding me down, and I just couldn’t move. Horrified, torn by love and despair and pity, half-crazed, I struggled to reach her, and I begged them to let me go.

“Save me, save me,” Emine gasped.

And Seyit Lutfullah turned to me and said, “Oh no, and after all that effort…” Then he threw himself at me, shouting, “Stop! Stop!”

They all had a hold on me. Inside the alembic, with her eyes wide with fear and her hair in flames, Emine was still begging me to help her. I was desperately struggling to reach her, but Seyit Lutfullah’s hands had latched onto me like hooks. How many did he have? What a terrible hold he had on me! It was as if every piece of my body were clamped in a vice. I couldn’t breathe; I felt like I was suffocating. “Let me go! Let me go!” I begged as I wrestled to get free. But I knew they’d never let go, that I’d never be able to free myself from them. Still I struggled and flailed about desperately. “She’s gone. Oh, I’m finished. Let me go!” I cried.

The image of Emine in the mirror had begun to change.

A moment later nothing but her two eyes remained — two eyes staring straight at me, wide with fear. Two enormous terrified and accusing eyes bore into me through a continuous swirl of harsh, pale-green light, mouthing the words, “This is all your fault.” They were Emine’s eyes.

Then I saw something more horrifying still. A great gust of wind sent everything flying up into the air, and in less than an instant the roof was blown off the house and the walls collapsed and we were all swept away by the wind.

A little later I found myself walking down a hill in the darkness of night. Dr. Ramiz was beside me. He was mumbling something as he led me, his arm in mine, down the cliff. At the bottom there was a brightly illuminated house. But I knew that the road ahead of us was long and that even if I did reach the end, it wouldn’t matter. Still I stumbled frantically forward, telling the doctor, “Just hold on a little longer, Doctor, just a little more…” Suddenly a shadow loomed over us, and as it grew before our eyes we realized it was Seyit Lutfullah’s tortoise, Çesminigâr. Truly a gruesome sight to behold, it was slowly expanding, like dough, like water, like wind, swelling up to smother everything around it. Nothing could stop it. Growing larger and larger every second, it buzzed like a swarm of locusts. My teeth chattered as I whimpered, “It will grow and grow and fill up all the earth and sky!” Terrified, I woke up.

I was drenched in sweat. My teeth still tightly clenched, I looked around the room, listening to my pounding heart. It was still night, and there was a strange silence in the air. Like a capsized ship undulating in dead waters, the enormous building seemed almost to be swimming in a silence that blacked out all around it. But at least my feet were on firm ground. The horror I had just suffered was nothing but a dream. I lit a cigarette. I took a few deep drags and got out of bed and sat down at the desk, repeating to myself that it was nothing but a dream. Still I couldn’t get the image of Emine’s screaming face out of my mind, and so I closed my eyes, hoping to rid myself of those eyes. Suddenly I was woken by a sharp jolt. I had fallen asleep with my cigarette still in my mouth, and the butt had burned my lips. I tossed it to the floor, put on my slippers, and shut my eyes.