NARUHITO DREAMED

by Vladislav Hristov; translated from the Bulgarian by Vania Stefanova

Naruhito is from Hiroshima. He does not remember the bomb, but he remembers his grandfather without arms and legs. Ten years he lived this way, then was buried in a coffin no bigger than a violin case.

Naruhito works as an architect. He constructs earthquake-proof buildings. Drawing and drawing and drawing all day long. Sharpens his pencil and starts over again. When he gets home his supper usually consists of rice with vegetables. Or meat, only vegetables or only rice. In fact, he doesn't really care what he eats but what matters is when he goes to bed because Naruhito loves dreaming the most. Before he falls asleep Naruhito sticks his nose into a metal thermos labeled "Himalayan Oxygen". After a few rapid inhalations a subtle smile crosses his face, after which he wraps himself in his favourite blanket, decorated with huge yellow chrysanthemums. Then he falls asleep.

Last night Naruhito had a very bizarre dream. He was double-headed. He looked like the German double-headed eagle. No… He resembled more the double-headed calf that could see double the number of stars in the night sky. In his dream Naruhito also saw everything doubled. Twice as long the road to work, twice as many diagrams, twice as long the road home, twice the amount in his dish for supper. Twice the "Himalayan Oxygen", twice as much sleep…

And he woke up late in the evening.

 

VLADISLAV HRISTOV was born in 1976 in Shumen, Bulgaria. He is the author of Photos of Children, 2010, a collection of short stories, and two collections of poetry Enso, (2012) and Fi, (2013). He has won the 2007 LiterNet & eRunsMagazine Short Fiction Contest and the 2010 National Haiku Free Topic Contest, as well as the 2011 International Cherry Blossom Competition. Since 2011, he has been a member of The Haiku Foundation. He was in the ranking of the 100 most creative haiku writers in Europe for three years (2010–2012). His works have appeared in English, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Russian, Arabic and Hungarian.

 

  • COMMENTING RULES

    Commenting on www.vagabond.bg

    Vagabond Media Ltd requires you to submit a valid email to comment on www.vagabond.bg to secure that you are not a bot or a spammer. Learn more on how the company manages your personal information on our Privacy Policy. By filling the comment form you declare that you will not use www.vagabond.bg for the purpose of violating the laws of the Republic of Bulgaria. When commenting on www.vagabond.bg please observe some simple rules. You must avoid sexually explicit language and racist, vulgar, religiously intolerant or obscene comments aiming to insult Vagabond Media Ltd, other companies, countries, nationalities, confessions or authors of postings and/or other comments. Do not post spam. Write in English. Unsolicited commercial messages, obscene postings and personal attacks will be removed without notice. The comments will be moderated and may take some time to appear on www.vagabond.bg.

Add new comment

The content of this field is kept private and will not be shown publicly.

Restricted HTML

  • Allowed HTML tags: <a href hreflang> <em> <strong> <cite> <blockquote cite> <code> <ul type> <ol start type> <li> <dl> <dt> <dd> <h2 id> <h3 id> <h4 id> <h5 id> <h6 id>
  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.
  • Web page addresses and email addresses turn into links automatically.

Discover More

FROM FROM THE SKY TO THE EARTH
a summer with its easy winssummer with its plansmade at the drop of a hateveryone’s willingto give in to warmththe holiday is todaylet’s seize itgo through summer’s open doors

SELECTED POETRY
Beginningit’s light out I tell youthere’s still lots moremy beautiful bird

STORY WITH CAKE
This story took place on the New Year’s Eve of my last winter in Bulgaria. Together with my wife and daughter, I greeted 1997 in a rented one-bedroom apartment in a windy, ugly suburb of

LITTLE MONSTIE
There’s someone you have not yet met:He wears three mittens in crimson red.His furry coat – so soft it feels;his socks have holes on all five heels.He’s always hiding in the pantry;

WE ARE ALL PAGES, an excerpt
“A RETIRED PEDIATRICIAN LOOKING TO MEET a modest and respectful woman. Dad, are you sure about this ad?”“Seeking to meet sounds better, right?”“Yes, seeking to meet is better, but what I meant was…”

HAIR
She remembered the day she went to the hair salon. She hadn’t dyed her hair in four years, and hadn’t gotten a drastic haircut in three.

ÁNNE
Sometimes, Lola and I would take out a bunch of covers and blankets out on the porch and spend the night under the stars. We arranged them in such a way that only the end of the small awning was above us and then we lay down and gazed at the night sky.

ZOYA
‘You’re so sour-tempered, Gergana’ asserted baba Zoya and kept knitting. ‘As if a lemon wedge is stuck to your tongue.’I kept my mouth shut, didn’t want to argue with her. That’s not why I was there.‘Have you seen Boyan?’
WHERE I BELONG
The gulp of winter air fills my lungs with chills, then retreats with a sigh. It clears off old visions and carries them away. The visions vanish, soaring high, where they belong. They were here only for an instant - for comfort, hope or advice.