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But the longer he slept, the calmer his sleep became. He stopped tossing and moaning, his breathing became easier and more even, and he was left alone.






Then Nikanor Ivanovich had a dream which doubtlessly had its source in the day's experiences. The dream began with some people with golden trumpets leading Nikanor Ivanovich most solemnly over to


Nikanor Ivanovich's Dream 135

a pair of huge polished doors. When they got there, his companions saluted him with a kind of fanfare, and then a booming bass was heard coming from on high, saying merrily, " Welcome, Nikanor Ivanovich! Hand over your foreign currency."

Taken totally by surprise, Nikanor Ivanovich noticed a black loudspeaker above his head.

Then he found himself inside a theater with a gilt ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and sconces on the walls. Everything was as one would expect in a small but richly appointed theater. There was a stage draped with a deep-cerise velvet curtain with depictions of enlarged ten-ruble gold pieces scattered across it like stars, a prompter's box, and even an audience.

What amazed Nikanor Ivanovich was that the audience consisted of men only, and for some reason, they all had beards. No less striking was the fact that there were no chairs in the theater, and the entire audience was sitting on the slippery, magnificently polished floor.

Feeling out of place in this large and unfamiliar company, Nikanor Ivanovich hesitated for awhile and then followed everyone's example and sat down Turkish-style on the parquet floor, in between a robust, red-bearded fellow and a pale hairy one. Neither of the two paid much attention to the new arrival.

At this point the soft sound of a bell was heard, the lights went out in the theater, the curtains parted, and an illuminated stage came into view with an armchair and a small table topped by a golden bell. The back of the stage was draped in thick black velvet.

An actor wearing a dinner jacket came out on stage. He was young, clean-shaven, very good-looking, and wore his hair parted down the middle. The audience stirred, and everyone turned their eyes to the stage. The actor walked over to the prompter's box and rubbed his hands.

" Are you all seated? " he asked in a soft baritone and smiled at the audience.

" Yes, yes, " the audience of tenors and basses replied in unison.

" Hm..." the actor began thoughtfully. " And how is it you're not bored, that's what puzzles me? Real people are outside on the streets right now, enjoying the spring sun and the warmth, and you're stuck here on the floor in a stuffy theater! Is the program really that interesting? However, to each his own, " the actor concluded philosophically.

Then he changed the timbre and intonation of his voice and boomed out merrily, " And so, the next act on our program is Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoi, the chairman of a house committee and the head of a special-diet cafeteria. Please come up on stage, Nikanor Ivanovich! "

The audience responded with friendly applause. Nikanor Ivanovich's eyes bulged with astonishment, and the emcee, shielding his eyes from the glare of the footlights, spotted him in the audience and coaxed him tenderly up on stage. And then, without knowing how, Nikanor Ivanovich found himself on the stage. The glare of the colored lights hit



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