A Dream

by Franz Kafka

Josef K. was dreaming:

It was a beautiful day and K. wanted to go on a walk. But

no sooner had he
taken a few steps than he was already at the graveyard.
Its paths were
highly artificial, impractical in their windings, yet he
glided along such
a path as if hovering unshakeably over raging water. From
far away, he
spotted a freshly dug burial mound at which he wanted to
halt. This burial
mound exerted an almost enticing effect on him, and he
felt he could not
get there fast enough. At times, however, he could barely
glimpse the
mound, it was covered with flags that twisted and flapped
powerfully
against one another; the flag bearers could not be seen,
but there appeared
to be great rejoicing.

While his eyes were still riveted in the distance, he

abruptly saw the
burial mound next to the path - indeed almost behind him
by now. He hastily
leaped into the grass. Since the path continued rushing
along beneath his
feet as he leaped off, he staggered and fell to his knees
right in front of
the mound. Two men were standing behind the grave,
holding a headstone
between them in the air; the moment K. showed up, they
thrust the stone
into the earth, and it stood there as if cemented to the
ground. Instantly,
a third man emerged from the bushes, and K. promptly
identified him as an
artist. He was wearing only trousers and a misbuttoned
shirt; a velvet cap
was on his head; in his hand, he clutched an ordinary
pencil, drawing
figures in the air even as he approached.

He now applied this pencil to the top end of the stone;

the stone was very
high, he did not even have to lean down, but he did have
to bend forward,
since he did not wish to step on the burial mound, which
separated him from
the stone. So he stood on tiptoe, steadying himself by
propping his left
hand against the surface of the stone. Through some
extremely skillful
manipulation, he succeeded in producing gold letters with
that ordinary
pencil; he wrote: "Here LIES---" Each letter came out
clean and beautiful,
deeply incised and in purest gold. After writing those
two words, he looked
back at K.; K., who was very eager to see what would come
next in the
inscription, gazed at the stone, paying little heed to
the man. And in
fact, the man was about to continue writing, but he could
not, something
was hindering him, he lowered the pencil and turned to K.
again. This time,
K. looked back at the artist, who, he noticed, was very
embarrassed but
unable to indicate the reason for his embarrassment. All
his earlier
liveliness had vanished. As a result, K. likewise felt
embarrassed; they
exchanged helpless glances; there was some kind of
misunderstanding between
them, which neither of them could clear up. To make
matters worse, a small
chime began tinkling inopportunely from the tomb chapel,
but the artist
waved his raised hand wildly, and the chime stopped.
After a brief pause,
it started in again; this time very softly and then
promptly breaking off
with no special admonition from him; it was as if it
merely wanted to test
its own sound. K. was inconsolable about the artist's
dilemma, he began to
cry, sobbing into his cupped hands for a long time. The
artist waited for
K. to calm down, and then, finding no other solution, he
decided to keep
writing all the same. His first small stroke was a
deliverance for K., but
the artist obviously managed to execute it only with
utmost reluctance;
moreover, the penmanship was not as lovely -- above all,
it seemed to lack
gold, the stroke moved along pale and unsteady, only the
letter became very
large. It was a J, it was almost completed; but now the
artist furiously
stamped one foot into the burial mound, making the dark
soil fly up all
around. At last, K. understood him; there was no time
left to apologize;
with all his fingers he dug into the earth, which offered
scant resistance;
everything seemed prepared; a thin crust of earth had
been set up purely
for show; right beneath it a huge hole with sheer sides
gaped open, and K.,
flipped over on his back by a gently current, sank into
the hole. But
while, with his head still erect on his neck, he was
welcomed down below by
the impenetrable depth, his name, with tremendous
embellishments, rushed
across the stone up above.

Enraptured by this sight, he woke up.