SIDARTA RIBEIRO - ORACLE OF NIGHT : the history and science of dreams.
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English translation copyright 2021 by Daniel Hahn
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pantheon Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York, and distributed in Canada by Penguin Random House Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in Brazil as O orculo da noite: A histria e a cincia do sonho by Companhia das Letras, So Paulo, in 2019. Copyright 2019 by Sidarta Ribeiro.
Pantheon Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material:
Dell Publishing: Excerpt from The Real Life of Dreams from The Promise of Sleep: A Pioneer in Sleep Medicine Explains the Vital Connection Between Health, Happiness, and a Good Nights Sleep by William C. Dement. Copyright 1999 by William C. Dement. Reprinted by permission of Dell Publishing, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Grove/Atlantic, Inc.: Excerpt from Waiting for Godot: A Tragicomedy in Two Acts by Samuel Beckett. Copyright 1954 by Grove Press, Inc., copyright renewed 1982 by Samuel Beckett. Reprinted by permission of Grove/Atlantic, Inc. Any third-party use of this material, outside of this publication, is prohibited.
Harvard University Press: Excerpts from The Falling Sky: Words of a Yanomami Shaman by Davi Kopenawa and Bruce Albert, translated by Nicholas Elliott and Alison Dundy, Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Copyright 2013 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Reprinted by permission of Harvard University Press.
Oxford University Press: Excerpt from The Dream of Dumuzid from The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature (ETCSL) v.1.4.3. Reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press.
Penguin Classics: Excerpt from The Forging by Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Christopher Maurer, from Poems of the Night: A Dual-Language Edition with Parallel Text by Jorge Luis Borges. Copyright 2010 by Maria Kodama, translation copyright 2010 by Penguin Random House LLC. Reprinted by permission of Penguin Classics, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Ribeiro, Sidarta, author. Hahn, Daniel, translator.
Title: The oracle of night : the history and science of dreams / Sidarta Ribeiro ; translated from the Portuguese by Daniel Hahn.
Other titles: Oraculo da noite. English.
Description: First American edition. New York : Pantheon Books, 2021. Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020044675 (print). LCCN 2020044676 (ebook). ISBN 9781524746902 (hardcover). ISBN 9781524746919 (ebook).
Subjects: LCSH: Dreams. DreamsPhysiological aspects. DreamsHistory.
Classification: LCC QP426 .R5313 2021 (print) | LCC QP426 (ebook) | DDC 612.8/21dc23
LC record available at lccn.loc.gov/2020044675
LC ebook record available at lccn.loc.gov/2020044676
Ebook ISBN9781524746919
www.pantheonbooks.com
Cover design by Na Kim
ep_prh_5.7.1_c0_r0
Because of Vera
For Natlia, Ernesto, and Sergio
For Luiza and Kima
In the name of our ancestors,
and of the seventh generation after us:
Dream, Memory, and Destiny
As soon as we were up on our feet
We started to migrate across the savanna
Following the herd of bison,
Beyond the horizon,
To new, distant lands.
Children on our backs, expectant,
Eyes alert, all ears,
Sniffing that unsettling landscape, new and unknown.
We are a traveling species,
We have no belongings, only luggage.
We go with the pollen in the wind,
We are alive because we are in motion.
We are never still, we are nomadic.
We are parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren of immigrants.
What I dream is more mine than what I can touch.
I am not from here, but nor are you
Jorge Drexler, Movimiento (Movement)
But the dreamers move forward, releasing their parrots, dying in their fires, like children and lunatics. And singing those anthems that talk about wings, about blazing rays of lightthe language of their forefathers, a strange human language, on these scaffoldings of the builders of Babel.
Ceclia Meireles, Liberdade (Freedom)
To read is to dream by anothers hand.
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
When he was five years old, the little boy went through a disturbing phase in which he had the same nightmare every night. In this dream, he was living without any relatives near him, alone in a sad city beneath a rainy sky. A good part of the dream took place in a maze of muddy alleys that circled gloomy buildings. The city, which was surrounded by barbed wire and illuminated by insistent flashes of lightning, looked more like a concentration camp. The boy and the citys other children would invariably end up at a scary house where cannibal witches lived. One of the childrennever the boywould go into the three-story building and everybody would watch the many dark windows, waiting for one of them to be suddenly lit up, revealing the silhouette of the child and the witches. There would be a horrifying scream, and that was how the dream ended, only to be repeated, in detail, every night.
The boy developed a terror of sleeping, and informed his mother that he had decided never to fall asleep again, so as to avoid the nightmare. He would lie still in bed, alone in his room, fighting desperately against sleep, determined to remain alert. But ultimately he would always succumb, and a few hours later everything would start over again. The fear of being the child chosen to go into the house was so great that he was unable to prevent the repeating of the narrative, unable to avoid falling into the same oneiric trap. His earnest mother taught him to think about flower-filled gardens as he was drifting off, so as to calm the beginning of his sleep. But after the dark curtain of midnight, the nightmare would return, relentlessly, as if the dawn would never be allowed to return.
Soon afterward, the boy started to have sessions of psychotherapy with an excellent specialist. The memories he retains of this period are of board games kept in an appealing wooden box in the consulting room. At a certain point the psychologist suggested, cleverly, that the dream might somehow be under control. And then the nightmare of the witches was replaced by another dream.
This one also had a disagreeable narrative, though it wasnt a horror story so much as a piece of Hitchcockian suspense with surprising image editing. The gray thriller was experienced in the third person: the boy didnt see the dream through his own eyes, but from outside, as if watching a movie about himself. The dream, which took place in an airport and always ended the same way, was again repeated every night. There was an adult companion with dark hair who was helping the boy to look for a deranged criminal. The boy couldnt find the criminal and ended up leaving the place with his friend. But then, to his great anxiety, the camera moved to reveal his quarry, upside-down, hanging from the ceiling of the terminal hall like a huge spider in the gap between the wallsThe most disturbing thing was not having spotted the criminal earlier, despite his having been there the whole time.
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