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Was it a Dream

In Guy de Maupassant's short story 'Was It a Dream?', the narrator reflects on his profound grief after the death of his lover, exploring themes of love, loss, and the harsh truths of mortality. As he grapples with his sorrow, he encounters a disturbing revelation about the nature of the deceased and the lies inscribed on their gravestones. Ultimately, the story delves into the complexities of love and the painful reality that often accompanies it.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
31 views7 pages

Was it a Dream

In Guy de Maupassant's short story 'Was It a Dream?', the narrator reflects on his profound grief after the death of his lover, exploring themes of love, loss, and the harsh truths of mortality. As he grapples with his sorrow, he encounters a disturbing revelation about the nature of the deceased and the lies inscribed on their gravestones. Ultimately, the story delves into the complexities of love and the painful reality that often accompanies it.

Uploaded by

Dan2929
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Name: Class:

Was It a Dream?
By Guy de Maupassant
1903

Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893) was a French writer, famous for his short stories. His characters frequently
experience tragedy, and his short stories often depict life and society in pessimistic ways. This particular
short story exemplifies Maupassant’s work, as it tells the story of a grieving lover. As you read, take notes on
the narrator’s feelings and how they change.

[1] "I had loved her madly!

"Why does one love? Why does one love? How


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queer, it is to see only one being in the world, to
have only one thought in one's mind, only one
desire in the heart, and only one name on the lips
— a name which comes up continually, rising, like
the water in a spring, from the depths of the soul
to the lips, a name which one repeats over and
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over again, which one whispers ceaselessly,
everywhere, like a prayer.

"I am going to tell you our story, for love only has "Untitled" by Paul Dufour is licensed under CC0.

one, which is always the same. I met her and


loved her; that is all. And for a whole year I have lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in her arms,
in her dresses, on her words, so completely wrapped up, bound, and absorbed in everything which
came from her, that I no longer cared whether it was day or night, or whether I was dead or alive, on
this old earth of ours.

"And then she died. How? I do not know; I no longer know anything. But one evening she came home
wet, for it was raining heavily, and the next day she coughed, and she coughed for about a week, and
took to her bed. What happened I do not remember now, but doctors came, wrote, and went away.
Medicines were brought, and some women made her drink them. Her hands were hot, her forehead
was burning, and her eyes bright and sad. When I spoke to her, she answered me, but I do not
remember what we said. I have forgotten everything, everything, everything! She died, and I very well
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remember her slight, feeble sigh. The nurse said: 'Ah!' and I understood, I understood!

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[5] "I knew nothing more, nothing. I saw a priest, who said: 'Your mistress? ' and it seemed to me as if he
were insulting her. As she was dead, nobody had the right to say that any longer, and I turned him out.
Another came who was very kind and tender, and I shed tears when he spoke to me about her.

"They consulted me about the funeral, but I do not remember anything that they said, though I
recollected the coffin, and the sound of the hammer when they nailed her down in it. Oh! God, God!

1. strange, odd
2. Ceaselessly (adverb): constant and unending
3. Feeble (adjective): weak
4. a woman having an affair with someone married

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"She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole! Some people came — female friends. I made my escape and
ran away. I ran, and then walked through the streets, went home, and the next day started on a
journey.

*******

"Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw my room again — our room, our bed, our furniture,
everything that remains of the life of a human being after death — I was seized by such a violent attack
of fresh grief that I felt like opening the window and throwing myself out into the street. I could not
remain any longer among these things, between these walls which had enclosed and sheltered her,
which retained a thousand atoms of her, of her skin and of her breath, in their imperceptible crevices. I
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took up my hat to make my escape, and just as I reached the door, I passed the large glass in the hall,
which she had put there so that she might look at herself every day from head to foot as she went out,
6 7
to see if her toilette looked well, and was correct and pretty, from her little boots to her bonnet.

"I stopped short in front of that looking-glass in which she had so often been reflected — so often, so
often, that it must have retained her reflection. I was standing there, trembling, with my eyes fixed on
the glass — on that flat, profound, empty glass — which had contained her entirely, and had possessed
her as much as I, as my passionate looks had. I felt as if I loved that glass. I touched it; it was cold. Oh!
The recollection! Sorrowful mirror, burning mirror, horrible mirror, to make men suffer such torments!
Happy is the man whose heart forgets everything that it has contained, everything that has passed
before it, everything that has looked at itself in it, or has been reflected in its affection, in its love! How I
suffer!

[10] "I went out without knowing it, without wishing it, and toward the cemetery. I found her simple grave, a
white marble cross, with these few words:

"'She loved, was loved, and died.'

"She is there, below, decayed! How horrible! I sobbed with my forehead on the ground, and I stopped
there for a long time, a long time. Then I saw that it was getting dark, and a strange, mad wish, the wish
of a despairing lover, seized me. I wished to pass the night, the last night, in weeping on her grave. But
I should be seen and driven out. How was I to manage? I was cunning, and got up and began to roam
about in that city of the dead. I walked and walked. How small this city is, in comparison with the other,
the city in which we live. And yet, how much more numerous the dead are than the living. We want
high houses, wide streets, and much room for the four generations who see the daylight at the same
time, drink water from the spring, and wine from the vines, and eat bread from the plains.

"And for all the generations of the dead, for all that ladder of humanity that has descended down to us,
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there is scarcely anything, scarcely anything! The earth takes them back, and oblivion effaces them.
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Adieu!

5. a mirror
6. Toilette is the process of washing and preparing one’s appearance.
7. A bonnet is a woman’s hat tied under the chin.
8. Efface (verb): to do away with or erase
9. “Adieu” is French for goodbye.

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"At the end of the cemetery, I suddenly perceived that I was in its oldest part, where those who had
been dead a long time are mingling with the soil, where the crosses themselves are decayed, where
possibly newcomers will be put to-morrow. It is full of untended roses, of strong and dark cypress-
trees, a sad and beautiful garden, nourished on human flesh.

[15] "I was alone, perfectly alone. So I crouched in a green tree and hid myself there completely amid the
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thick and somber branches. I waited, clinging to the stem, like a shipwrecked man does to a plank.

"When it was quite dark, I left my refuge and began to walk softly, slowly, inaudibly, through that
ground full of dead people. I wandered about for a long time, but could not find her tomb again. I went
on with extended arms, knocking against the tombs with my hands, my feet, my knees, my chest, even
with my head, without being able to find her. I groped about like a blind man finding his way, I felt the
stones, the crosses, the iron railings, the metal wreaths, and the wreaths of faded flowers! I read the
names with my fingers, by passing them over the letters. What a night! What a night! I could not find
her again!

"There was no moon. What a night! I was frightened, horribly frightened in these narrow paths,
between two rows of graves. Graves! Graves! Graves! Nothing but graves! On my right, on my left, in
front of me, around me, everywhere there were graves! I sat down on one of them, for I could not walk
any longer, my knees were so weak. I could hear my heart beat! And I heard something else as well.
What? A confused, nameless noise. Was the noise in my head, in the impenetrable night, or beneath
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the mysterious earth, the earth sown with human corpses? I looked all around me, but I cannot say
how long I remained there; I was paralyzed with terror, cold with fright, ready to shout out, ready to
die.

"Suddenly, it seemed to me that the slab of marble on which I was sitting, was moving. Certainly it was
moving, as if it were being raised. With a bound, I sprang on to the neighboring tomb, and I saw, yes, I
distinctly saw the stone which I had just quitted rise upright. Then the dead person appeared, a naked
skeleton, pushing the stone back with its bent back. I saw it quite clearly, although the night was so
dark. On the cross I could read:

"'Here lies Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. He loved his family, was kind and
honorable, and died in the grace of the Lord.'

[20] "The dead man also read what was inscribed on his tombstone; then he picked up a stone off the path,
a little, pointed stone and began to scrape the letters carefully. He slowly effaced them, and with the
hollows of his eyes he looked at the places where they had been engraved. Then with the tip of the
12
bone that had been his forefinger, he wrote in luminous letters, like those lines which boys trace on
walls with the tip of a Lucifer match:

"'Here reposes Jacques Olivant, who died at the age of fifty-one. He hastened his father's death by his
unkindness, as he wished to inherit his fortune, he tortured his wife, tormented his children, deceived
13
his neighbors, robbed everyone he could, and died wretched.’

10. Somber (adjective): gloomy


11. to plant by scattering in the earth
12. Luminous (adjective): glowing and bright
13. Wretched (adjective): a very unhappy or unfortunate state

3
"When he had finished writing, the dead man stood motionless, looking at his work. On turning round I
saw that all the graves were open, that all the dead bodies had emerged from them, and that all had
effaced the lies inscribed on the gravestones by their relations, substituting the truth instead. And I
14 15
saw that all had been the tormentors of their neighbors—malicious, dishonest, hypocrites, liars,
16
rogues, calumniators, envious; that they had stolen, deceived, performed every disgraceful, every
17
abominable action, these good fathers, these faithful wives, these devoted sons, these chaste
18
daughters, these honest tradesmen, these men and women who were called irreproachable They
were all writing at the same time, on the threshold of their eternal abode, the truth, the terrible and
the holy truth of which everybody was ignorant, or pretended to be ignorant, while they were alive.

"I thought that SHE also must have written something on her tombstone, and now running without any
fear among the half-open coffins, among the corpses and skeletons, I went toward her, sure that I
should find her immediately. I recognized her at once, without seeing her face, which was covered by
the winding-sheet, and on the marble cross, where shortly before I had read:

"'She loved, was loved, and died.'

[25] I now saw:

"'Having gone out in the rain one day, in order to deceive her lover, she caught cold and died.'

*******

"It appears that they found me at daybreak, lying on the grave unconscious."

"Was It a Dream?" by Guy de Maupassant (1903) ia in the public domain.

14. Malicious (adjective): having or showing a desire to cause harm to someone


15. Hypocrite (noun): a person who acts in a way that contradicts their stated beliefs or feelings
16. people who make false statements about others
17. Abominable (adjective): horrible
18. Irreproachable (adjective): faultless; beyond criticism

4
Text-Dependent Questions
Directions: For the following questions, choose the best answer or respond in complete sentences.

1. PART A: What is the primary tone of the narrator throughout the story?
A. intense anger
B. frantic despair
C. cold indifference
D. excited curiosity

2. PART B: Which TWO phrases from the text best support the answer to Part A?
A. “Why does one love?” (Paragraph 2)
B. “She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole!” (Paragraph 7)
C. “I stopped short in front of that looking glass in which she had so often been
reflected.” (Paragraph 9)
D. “I waited, clinging to the stem, like a shipwrecked man does to a plank.”
(Paragraph 15)
E. “The dead man also read what was inscribed on his tombstone.” (Paragraph 20)
F. “I recognized her at once, without seeing her face.” (Paragraph 23)

3. PART A: What does the interaction between the narrator and the priest in paragraph 5
reveal?
A. It reveals that the priest is empathetic and willing to share in the narrator’s grief.
B. It reveals that the priest and perhaps others were already aware that the
narrator’s lover was unfaithful.
C. It reveals that the narrator and his lover had been prominent, well-known
figures in their community.
D. It reveals that the narrator and the priest have a past history of negativity.

4. PART B: Which detail from the text best supports the answer to Part A?
A. "and it seemed to me as if he were insulting her.” (Paragraph 5)
B. "nobody had the right to say that any longer, and I turned him out.” (Paragraph
5)
C. “Another came who was very kind and tender, and I shed tears when he spoke
to me about her.” (Paragraph 5)
D. “They consulted me about the funeral, but I do not remember anything that they
said” (Paragraph 6)

5. PART A: Which of the following best describes a theme of the story?


A. It is important to remain devoted to our loved ones, even after they pass.
B. While it may be painful, honoring the dead is an important practice to help cope
with grief.
C. Love can cause people to believe the best about others and often masks the
truth.
D. The dead must remain as they are so that we can hold on to positive memories
of them.

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6. PART B: Which section from the text best supports the answer to Part A?
A. “How queer, it is to see only one being in the world, to have only one thought in
one's mind, only one desire in the heart, and only one name on the lips.”
(Paragraph 2)
B. “Happy is the man whose heart forgets everything that it has contained,
everything that has passed before it, everything that has looked at itself in it, or
has been reflected in its affection, in its love!” (Paragraph 9)
C. “Then I saw that it was getting dark, and a strange, mad wish, the wish of a
despairing lover, seized me. I wished to pass the night, the last night, in weeping
on her grave.” (Paragraph 12)
D. “They were all writing at the same time, on the threshold of their eternal abode,
the truth, the terrible and the holy truth of which everybody was ignorant, or
pretended to be ignorant, while they were alive.” (Paragraph 22)

7. Explain how the author uses an ironic twist to create surprise at the end of the story.

8. How does Maupassant develop the narrator’s character over the course of the story?

6
Discussion Questions
Directions: Brainstorm your answers to the following questions in the space provided. Be prepared to
share your original ideas in a class discussion.

1. How does love affect the way we see people? What imagery from the text helps illustrate
that the narrator’s judgment is compromised?

2. The name of this short story is “Was It a Dream?” After reading the story, do you think it was
a dream? Why or why not?

3. Why do societies and individuals tend to glorify the dead? What can we gain from honoring
the dead? What might we lose?

4. Is the narrator better off knowing what he discovers in the end, or would it have been
better for him to remain ignorant?

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