The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, short story by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, published in Russian in as “Son smeshnogo cheloveka.” It addresses questions about. : The Dream Of A Ridiculous Man (): Fyodor Dostoyevsky: Books. The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. By Fyodor Dostoyevsky. What do we know about the psyche that Dostoyevsky failed to illuminate for us more than a century ago.

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Never, for instance, had I fallen asleep like this in my armchair. They were laughed to scorn and stoned to death. And just as I was looking at the sky, this little girl suddenly grasped me by the elbow. And just as I was looking at the sky, yhe little girl took me by the elbow. Yes, they had discovered their language, and I am sure the trees understood them.

The caressing sea, green as emerald, splashed softly upon the shore and kissed it with manifest, almost conscious love. And so every night during these two months I thought of shooting myself as I was going home.

Do you believe me when I tell you that that was the only reason why I shouted like that? The sensation of the fullness of life left me breathless, and I worshipped them in silence. But the instinct of self-preservation grew rapidly weaker; there arose men, haughty and sensual, who demanded all or nothing. That there always was a sharp pang of anguish in my hatred of the men of our earth; why could I not hate them without loving them too?

So I suddenly blurted it out. A sweet, thrilling feeling resounded with ecstasy in my heart: Alas, I always loved sorrow and affliction, but only for myself, only for myself; for them I wept now, for I pitied them.

I lay still, strange to say I expected nothing, accepting without dispute that a dead man had nothing to expect. It was growing before my eyes. That was because the little star gave me an idea: A cabman was sleeping in the distance in his cab.


The Dream of a Ridiculous Man | short story by Dostoyevsky |

And all at once, not with my voice, but with my entire being, I called upon the power ridciulous was responsible for all that was happening to me: My room is very small and poor.

Could my petty heart and fickle, trivial mind have risen to such a revelation of truth? I suddenly, quite without noticing how, found myself on this other earth, in the bright light of a sunny day, fair as paradise. Suddenly between ten and eleven it had stopped, and was followed by a horrible dampness, colder and damper than the rain, and a sort of steam was rising from everything, from every stone in the street, and from every by-lane if one looked down it as far as one ridculous.

And at last I saw and came to know the people of this blessed earth. To say nothing of the possibility that nothing would in fact exist for anyone after me and the whole world would dissolve as soon as my consciousness became extinct, would disappear in a twinkling like a phantom, like some integral part of my consciousness, and vanish without leaving a trace behind, for all this world and all these people exist perhaps only in my consciousness.

I have seen the truth — it is not as though I had invented it with my mind, I have seen it, seen it, and the living image of it has filled my soul for ever. Perhaps it was owing to the terrible misery that was growing in my soul through something which was of more ridiculos than anything else about me: There was a problem with your submission.

But how can I help believing it? The narrator is then placed on what appears to be an idyllic Greek island, identified as the earth before the Fall. Next door in the other room behind the partition, dostoevsjy usual bedlam was going on. Oh, how hard it is to be the only man to know the truth! But I gave up caring about anything, and all the problems disappeared. Costoevsky all at once a drop of water fell on my closed left eye, making its way through the coffin lid; it was followed a minute later by a second, then a minute later by a third — and so on, regularly every minute.


And no doubt I should have shot myself if it had not been for that little girl. And yet it is an old truth, a truth that has been told over and over again, but in spite of that it finds no place among men! She suddenly pulled me by the elbow and called me. The image of the poor child whom I had repulsed flashed through my mind.

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man – Wikipedia

But it was damp. And I tracked down that little girl. I knew I should shoot myself that night for certain. I lifted up my hands and called upon eternal Truth—no, not called upon it, but wept.

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man

I read books only in the daytime. I have a room in a flat where there are other lodgers. I loved the earth they tidiculous polluted even more than when it had been a paradise, and only because sorrow had made its appearance on it. But two months had elapsed and it was still lying in the drawer. For once you have recognized the truth and th it, you know it is the one and only truth and that there can be no other, whether you are asleep or awake.

In those songs they expressed all the sensations that the parting day had given them, sang its glories and took leave of it.