ABSTRACT
In the preface of his book The Drowned and the Saved, Primo Levi, the Italian Jewish writer who was sent to Auschwitz in 1944, describes how the S.S. soldiers would amuse themselves by cynically taunting the camp inmates, telling them that even if any of them survived their cruelties and abasement no one would believe them if they recounted what had happened in the camps. He adds that almost all of the survivors described, orally or in writing, a constantly recurring dream they had during their internment. Although the details varied from one survivor to another, the essence was identical: They are returning to their homes, and with fervor and relief they tell a person dear to them about the suffering they had endured, but no one will believe them; and not only that—no one will even listen. In the dream’s most characteristic, and most typical and cruel version, Levi writes, the interlocutor simply turns around and silently walks away. 1
