Dreams

As Flight 11 hit WTC 1, I was assigned to read some Chekhov stories. Nothing in particular, whichever I wanted. I don't remember going to the library but I must have -- I picked up a collection of lesser-known Chekhov stories somewhere. That night, exhausted by the news and the uncertainty, I opened the book and picked a story probably based on length. "Dreams" tells of two policemen who find a sober "tramp" who claims to not remember his name. They walk together through a thick fog and every time they stop, they appear to be standing not far from where they left. Despite the tamest line of questioning in the history of literature the man folds easily: He's an escaped convict – guilty of being an accomplice to a poisoning as a child – and he's hoping to get shipped off to Siberia for being a vagrant before anyone recognizes him. He explains that the work camps in Siberia are so much easier than the prison he's escaped from, he would prefer to live out his last years there. The policemen don't reveal their intentions; instead they remind the man how weak he is and they tell him how hard life in Siberia can get. They doubt he'll last very long there. And then the three of them continue walking into the fog.