The Old Man and the Dream in the Honey Jar (from Kalila and Dimna)

Once upon a time, in a little white house at the edge of a village, there lived a kind old man named Zahid.

Zahid had a long white beard, a soft knitted cap, and a smile that made his eyes crinkle. He did not have very much. He had one simple room with whitewashed walls. He had a striped mat to sleep on, a blue pillow, a little plant in a clay pot, and a wooden walking stick with a curly handle.

But Zahid had good neighbors. And every morning, a kind baker down the lane sent him a little gift. Sometimes it was bread. Sometimes it was dates. And sometimes, it was a spoonful of golden honey.

Zahid never ate all the honey. He was careful. Each day, he ate a little, and saved a little. He kept the extra honey in a round clay jar.

Day by day, spoonful by spoonful, the jar grew fuller.

At last, one evening, the jar was full to the very top.

Zahid looked at it proudly. He did not want ants to find it. He did not want the cat to knock it over. So he tied a rope around its neck. Then he hung it from a hook in the ceiling, right above his sleeping mat.

There it swung, gently, back and forth. Golden honey glistened at the top. It smelled sweet and warm, like flowers in the sun.

Zahid lay down on his mat. He put his hands behind his head. He looked up at the jar.

And he began to dream.

"What a fine jar of honey," he said to himself. "I could sell it at the market. Honey is worth a lot. I could sell it for a silver coin. Maybe two!"

He smiled.

"And with two silver coins," he went on, "I could buy a goat. A nice brown goat with a little beard, just like mine."

He chuckled at that.

"And my goat would have baby goats. Two little goats. And they would grow up and have baby goats too. Soon I would have ten goats!"

Zahid's eyes sparkled.

"And with ten goats, I could trade some for sheep. Fluffy white sheep with soft wool. And the sheep would have lambs. And soon I would have twenty sheep and twenty goats, all grazing in a green meadow!"

He could almost see them. Fluffy sheep. Bouncy goats. A big green meadow with daisies, under a wide blue sky.

"Then I would buy a farm," said Zahid, getting more and more excited. "With a big house. And a garden. And an orchard full of apricot trees. And a well with fresh water."

He sat up a little on his mat.

"And I would need a shepherd's stick to look after all my animals. A fine stick, just like this one."

He picked up his walking stick and held it up.

"Every morning, I would walk out into my meadow. I would look at all my sheep and goats. And if one little goat wandered off, toward the apricot trees, I would wave my stick, like this, and call out, 'Come back here, little goat! Come back!'"

And Zahid swung his stick up high in the air, waving it with all his might.

Clonk!

The stick hit the honey jar.

The jar swung wildly on its rope. Swing, swing, swing. Then, crack! A big crack ran right down its side.

And the honey began to pour out.

Drip.

Drip, drip.

Glug, glug, glug!

Sticky golden honey poured down from the jar. It poured onto Zahid's cap. It poured onto his long white beard. It poured onto his nose, and his shoulders, and his striped mat.

Zahid sat very still. Honey dripped off the end of his beard. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The goats were gone. The sheep were gone. The farm and the meadow and the apricot trees were gone.

All that was left was one empty jar, one very sticky old man, and a lot of honey.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Knock, knock, knock.

"Grandpa Zahid?" called a small voice. "It is me, Layla! My father sent you some bread!"

It was the baker's daughter. She pushed open the door and peeked in.

Then she stopped. Her eyes went wide.

There sat Zahid on his mat, covered from head to toe in golden honey. His beard was stuck together in sticky clumps. A drop of honey was dangling from the tip of his nose.

"Grandpa Zahid!" gasped Layla. "What happened?"

Zahid looked at her. He looked up at the cracked, empty jar. He looked down at his sticky beard.

And then he began to laugh.

He laughed and laughed until his belly shook. Honey flew off his beard in little drops.

"Oh, Layla," he said, wiping his eyes with a sticky hand. "I was dreaming. I was dreaming so hard about goats and sheep and farms that I forgot about the honey that was right here above my head."

Layla started to giggle. Then she laughed too. She laughed so hard she had to sit down.

"Come," she said at last. "Let me help you."

Layla fetched a bucket of water from the well. She found a soft cloth. Together, they washed the honey out of Zahid's beard, and off his cap, and off his nose. It took a long time. Honey is very sticky.

Then they scrubbed the striped mat and hung it outside in the sun to dry.

When they were finished, Zahid looked at the cracked jar. There was still a little honey left at the bottom. Just enough for two.

He tore the baker's warm bread in half. He dipped one half in the honey, and gave it to Layla. He dipped the other half for himself.

They sat together on the doorstep, in the warm afternoon sun, eating bread and honey.

It was soft and sweet and delicious.

"Grandpa Zahid," said Layla, with her mouth full, "do you still wish you had all those goats and sheep?"

Zahid thought about it. He looked at the blue sky. He looked at his little white house. He looked at Layla, with honey on her chin.

"Maybe someday," he said, smiling. "But right now, this bread and honey is the best thing in the whole world."

And it was.