The Giver, Gathering Blue, Messenger, Son. Lois Lowry

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      USUALLY, AT THE morning ritual when the family members told their dreams, Jonas didn’t contribute much. He rarely dreamed. Sometimes he awoke with a feeling of fragments afloat in his sleep, but he couldn’t seem to grasp them and put them together into something worthy of telling at the ritual.

      But this morning was different. He had dreamed very vividly the night before.

      His mind wandered while Lily, as usual, recounted a lengthy dream, this one a frightening one in which she had, against the rules, been riding her mother’s bicycle and been caught by the Security Guards.

      They all listened carefully and discussed with Lily the warning that the dream had given.

      “Thank you for your dream, Lily.” Jonas said the standard phrase automatically, and tried to pay better attention while his mother told of a dream fragment, a disquieting scene where she had been chastised for a rule infraction she didn’t understand. Together they agreed that it probably resulted from her feelings when she had reluctantly dealt punishment to the citizen who had broken the major rules a second time.

      Father said that he had had no dreams.

      “Gabe?” Father asked, looking down at the basket where the newchild lay gurgling after his feeding, ready to be taken back to the Nurturing Centre for the day.

      They all laughed. Dream-telling began with Threes. If newchildren dreamed, no one knew.

      “Jonas?” Mother asked. They always asked, though they knew how rarely Jonas had a dream to tell.

      “I did dream last night,” Jonas told them. He shifted in his chair, frowning.

      “Good,” Father said. “Tell us.”

      “The details aren’t clear, really,” Jonas explained, trying to recreate the odd dream in his mind. “I think I was in the bathing room at the House of the Old.”

      “That’s where you were yesterday,” Father pointed out.

      Jonas nodded. “But it wasn’t really the same. There was a tub, in the dream. But only one. And the real bathing room has rows and rows of them. But the room in the dream was warm and damp. And I had taken off my tunic, but hadn’t put on the smock, so my chest was bare. I was perspiring, because it was so warm. And Fiona was there, the way she was yesterday.”

      “Asher, too?” Mother asked.

      Jonas shook his head. “No. It was only me and Fiona, alone in the room, standing beside the tub. She was laughing. But I wasn’t. I was almost a little angry at her, in the dream, because she wasn’t taking me seriously.”

      “Seriously about what?” Lily asked.

      Jonas looked at his plate. For some reason that he didn’t understand, he felt slightly embarrassed. “I think I was trying to convince her that she should get into the tub of water.”

      He paused. He knew he had to tell it all, that it was not only all right but necessary to tell all of a dream. So he forced himself to relate the part that made him uneasy.

      “I wanted her to take off her clothes and get into the tub,” he explained quickly. “I wanted to bathe her. I had the sponge in my hand. But she wouldn’t. She kept laughing and saying no.”

      He looked up at his parents. “That’s all,” he said.

      “Can you describe the strongest feeling in your dream, son?” Father asked.

      Jonas thought about it. The details were murky and vague. But the feelings were clear, and flooded him again now as he thought. “The wanting,” he said. “I knew that she wouldn’t. And I think I knew that she shouldn’t. But I wanted it so terribly. I could feel the wanting all through me.”

      “Thank you for your dream, Jonas,” Mother said after a moment. She glanced at Father.

      “Lily,” Father said, “it’s time to leave for school. Would you walk beside me this morning and keep an eye on the newchild’s basket? We want to be certain he doesn’t wiggle himself loose.”

      Jonas began to rise to collect his schoolbooks. He thought it surprising that they hadn’t talked about his dream at length before the thank you. Perhaps they found it as confusing as he had.

      “Wait, Jonas,” Mother said gently. “I’ll write an apology to your instructor so that you won’t have to speak one for being late.”

      He sank back down into his chair, puzzled. He waved to Father and Lily as they left the dwelling, carrying Gabe in his basket. He watched while Mother tidied the remains of the morning meal and placed the tray by the front door for the Collection Crew.

      Finally she sat down beside him at the table. “Jonas,” she said with a smile, “the feeling you described as the wanting? It was your first Stirrings. Father and I have been expecting it to happen to you. It happens to everyone. It happened to Father when he was your age. And it happened to me. It will happen someday to Lily.

      “And very often,” Mother added, “it begins with a dream.”

      Stirrings. He had heard the word before. He remembered that there was a reference to the Stirrings in the Book of Rules, though he didn’t remember what it said. And now and then the Speaker mentioned it. Attention. A reminder that stirrings must be reported in order for treatment to take place.

      He had always ignored that announcement because he didn’t understand it and it had never seemed to apply to him in any way. He ignored, as most citizens did, many of the commands and reminders read by the Speaker.

      “Do I have to report it?” he asked his mother.

      She laughed. “You did, in the dream-telling. That’s enough.”

      “But what about the treatment? The Speaker says that СКАЧАТЬ