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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One train of thought followed another. But what does it matter whether it was a dream or not, so long as that dream revealed the Dostoevaky to me? Yes, yes, it ended in my corrupting them all! At first I told her to go and find a policeman. This indeed disclosed itself in the smallest trifles. I remember that I suddenly saw in the darkness a star.
Because of a thought that had occurred to me at the time: Rain had been falling all day, and it had been a cold, gloomy, almost menacing rain, with, I remember, an unmistakable spite against mankind. And just as I was looking at the sky, this little girl took me by the elbow. My window is a semicircular sky-light. I learned the truth last November, on the third of November, to be precise, and every moment since then has been imprinted indelibly on my mind.
At times I asked myself in amazement how they had managed never to offend a person like me and not once arouse in a person like me a feeling of jealousy and envy. It was the same morally: Yes, I dreamed that dream that night. You can make it easier for us to review and, hopefully, publish your contribution by keeping a few points in mind. Oh, now, life, life! The short story is usually concerned with a single effect conveyed in only one or a few significant episodes or scenes. They were as gay and sportive as children.
An yet, you know, all are making for the same goal, all are striving in the same direction anyway, from the sage to the lowest robber, only by different roads. And no doubt I should have shot myself if it had not been for that little girl. Thank you for your feedback.
The Dream of a Ridiculous Man
Yes, they had discovered their language, and I am sure the trees understood them. Voltaire, one of the greatest of all French writers. And at last I dosyoevsky and came to know the people of this blessed earth. Dreams seem to be spurred on not by reason but by desire, not by the head but by the heart, and yet what complicated tricks my reason has played sometimes in dreams, what utterly incomprehensible things happen to it! Some other passerby appeared there, and she evidently flew from me to him.
I learnt the truth last November — on the third of November, to be precise — and I remember every instant since. I only kissed in their presence the earth on which they lived and mutely worshipped them themselves. At times I asked myself with wonder how it was they were able never to offend a creature like me, and never once to arouse a feeling of jealousy or envy in me?
I did not move. Some of their songs were solemn and ecstatic, and I drem scarcely able to understand them at all. I did not question the being who was carrying me.
Do you believe that that was why I shouted that? I I am a ridiculous person. There was a full minute of unbroken silence and again another drop fell, but I knew with infinite unshakable certainty that everything would change immediately.
I mounted o to my fifth storey. That would be a promotion if it were not that I remain as ridiculous in their eyes as before. I could feel the coffin swaying and I was thinking about it, and for the first time the idea flashed through my mind that I was dead, dead as a doornail, that I knew it, that there was not the least doubt ridicuolus it, that I could neither see nor move, and yet I could feel and reason.
And not only in their songs but in all their lives they seemed to do nothing but admire one another. I made up my mind that it should certainly be that night. Suddenly, and without as it were being aware of it myself, I stood on dostoevsk other earth in the bright light of a sunny day, fair and beautiful as paradise. They did not strive to gain knowledge of life as we strive to understand it because their lives were full.
For once you have recognized the truth and seen it, you know it is the one and only truth and that there can be no other, whether you are asleep or awake.
We were speeding through dark and unknown regions of space. Once in his apartment, the narrator sinks into a chair and places his gun on a table next to him. I suppose I must have known it from the day I was born. But I was not sorry to have spoken to them of it, for I knew that they appreciated how much and how anxiously I yearned for those I had forsaken.
Let me tell you about my dream.
I sat down, lighted the candle, and began thinking. The eyes of these happy people shone with a bright luster.
The Dream of a Ridiculous Man / Fyodor Dostoyevsky
It was growing before my eyes; I could already distinguish the ocean, the outline of Europe; and suddenly a feeling of a great and holy jealousy glowed in my heart. I had made up my mind to kill myself already two months before and, poor as I am, I bought myself an excellent revolver and loaded it the same day.
At last these people grew weary of their meaningless toil, and signs of suffering came into their dosotevsky, and then they proclaimed that suffering was a beauty, for in suffering alone was there meaning.
Never had I seen on our own earth such beauty in dostoeevsky. So I suddenly blurted it out. It was followed by another drop a minute later, then after another minute by jan drop, and so on.