In The Palace of Dreams, an extraordinary novel by the great Albanian writer Ismail Kadare, the most secret and most powerful bureaucracy of the Ottoman Empire is the Tabir Sarrail, or Palace of Dreams. Its purpose is to read all the dreaming minds of the Empire and present the Sultan a Master Dream each week that will guide his actions. While readers will be reminded of Kafka's The Castle and of Orwell's 1984, and perhaps of the bureaucratized Otherworlds of the medieval Chinese imagination, this work is uniquely Kadare's own. He writes:
"In that nocturnal realm of sleep are to
be found both the light and darkness of humanity; its honey and its poison, its
greatness and its vulnerability. All that is murky and harmful, or that will
become so in a few years or centuries, makes its first appearance in men’s
dreams. Every passion or wicked thought, every affliction or crime, every
rebellion or catastrophe necessarily casts its shadow before it long before it
manifests itself in real life. It was for that reason that the Padishah decreed
that no dream, not even one dreamed in the remotest part of the Empire on the
most ordinary day by the most godforsaken creature, must fail to be examined by
the Tabir Sarrail..”
Dreams are recorded, by hand, at the behest of the
dreamers. There is no electrical method of reading brain waves, no mechanical
content analysis. You may be punished for dreaming a certain dream, but not
(apparently) for concealing a dream. If the Tabir Sarrail represents the ultimate
totalitarian dream – of controlling the subconscious mind – it is very
imperfect in its execution. The hand written reports travel a long and weary
journey through collection, copying and selection to interpretation.
The protagonist, Mark-Alem,
is the scion of a noble Albanian family that has contributed viziers and
generals to the Empire, including the current prime minister in the novel. (The
family is historical, called Quprili in the novel, Köprülü in Turkish). Mark-Alem, rising in the Palace of Dreams
like a meteor going up, comes to understand that in the bowels of the vast
complex there are places where dreamers are made to undream inconvenient
dreams:
“The copyist had said
that it was obvious the prisoner couldn’t remember anything about his dream.
That must be the real object of his incarceration: to make him forget it. That
wearing interrogation night and day, that interminable report, the pretence of
seeking precise details about something that by its very nature cannot be
definite – all this, continued until the dream begins to disintegrate and
finally disappears completely from the dreamer’s memory, could only be called
brain-washing, thought Mark-Alem. Or an undream, in the same way as unreason is
the opposite of reason… the more he thought about it the more it seemed this
was the only explanation. It must be a question of flushing out subversive
ideas which for some reason or other the State needed to isolate, as one
isolates a plague virus in order to be able to neutralize it.”
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