... That absurd and terrible dream. It seemed as if the skull had been
taken off my brain and, bared and unprotected, it submissively and
greedily imbibed all the horrors of those bloody and senseless days.
I was lying curled up, occupying only five feet of space, while my
thought embraced the whole world. I saw with the eyes of all mankind,
and listened with its ears; I died with the killed, sorrowed and wept
with all that were wounded and left behind, and, when blood flowed out
of anybody's body, I felt the pain of the wound and suffered. Even all
that had not happened and was far away, I saw as clearly as if it had
happened and was close by, and there was no end to the sufferings of my
bared brain.
Those children, those innocent little children. I saw them in the
street playing at war and chasing each other, and one of them was
already crying in a high-pitched, childish voice--and something shrank
within me from horror and disgust. And I went home; night came on--and
in fiery dreams, resembling midnight conflagrations, those innocent
little children changed into a band of child-murderers.
Something was ominously burning in a broad red glare, and in the smoke
there swarmed monstrous, misshapen children, with heads of grown-up
murderers. They were jumping lightly and nimbly, like young goats at
play, and were breathing with difficulty, like sick people. Their
mouths, resembling the jaws of toads or frogs, opened widely and
convulsively; behind the transparent skin of their naked bodies the
red blood was coursing angrily--and they were killing each other at
play. They were the most terrible of all that I had seen, for they were
little and could penetrate everywhere.
I was looking out of the window and one of the little ones noticed me,
smiled, and with his eyes asked me to let him in.
"I want to go to you," he said.
"You will kill me."
"I want to go to you," he said, growing suddenly pale, and began
scrambling up the white wall like a rat--just like a hungry rat. He
kept losing his footing, and squealed and darted about the wall with
such rapidity, that I could not follow his impetuous, sudden movements.
"He can crawl in under the door," said I to myself with horror, and
as if he had guessed my thought, he grew thin and long and, waving
the end of his tail rapidly, he crawled into the dark crack under the
front door. But I had time to hide myself under the blanket, and heard
him searching for me in the dark rooms, cautiously stepping along with
his tiny bare feet. He approached my room very slowly, stopping now
and then, and at last entered it; but I did not hear any sound, either
rustle or movement for a long time, as if there was nobody near my
bed. And then somebody's little hand began lifting up the edge of the
coverlet, and I could feel the cold air of the room upon my face and
chest. I held the blanket tightly, but it persisted in lifting itself
up on all sides; and all of a sudden my feet became so cold, as if I
had dipped them into water. Now they were lying unprotected in the
chill darkness of the room, and he was looking at them.
In the yard, behind the house, a dog barked and was silent, and I heard
the trail of its chain as it went into its kennel. But he still watched
my naked feet and kept silence; I knew he was there by the unendurable
horror that was binding me like death with a stony, sepulchral
immobility. If I could have cried out, I would have awakened the whole
town, the whole world, but my voice was dead within me, and I lay
submissive and motionless, feeling the little cold hands moving over my
body and nearing my throat.
"I cannot!" I groaned, gasping and, waking up for an instant, I saw
the vigilant darkness of the night, mysterious and living, and again I
believe I fell asleep....
"Don't fear," said my brother, sitting down upon my bed, and the bed
creaked, so heavy he was dead. "Never fear, you see it is a dream. You
only imagine that you were being strangled, while in reality you are
asleep in the dark rooms, where there is not a soul, and I am in my
study writing. Nobody understood what I wrote about, and you derided me
as one insane, but now I will tell you the truth. I am writing about
the red laugh. Do you see it?"
Something enormous, red and bloody, was standing before me, laughing a
toothless laugh.
"That is the red laugh. When the earth goes mad, it begins to laugh
like that. You know, the earth has gone mad. There are no more flowers
or songs on it; it has become round, smooth and red like a scalped
head. Do you see it?"
"Yes, I see it. It is laughing."
"Look what its brain is like. It is red, like bloody porridge, and is
muddled."
"It is crying out."
"It is in pain. It has no flowers or songs. And now--let me lie down
upon you."
"You are heavy and I am afraid."
"We, the dead, lie down on the living. Do you feel warm?"
"Yes."
"Are you comfortable?"
"I am dying."
"Awake and cry out. Awake and cry out. I am going away....."