Jason Wiser (0:00)

This week on Myths and Legends, there are two stories from Turkey. On the first, you'll see how you should follow your dreams, even if those dreams mean forsaking everyone you love and starving in a faraway land. On the second, you'll see how you should never follow your dreams because you won't get the good reservations at the bath. The creature this time is a squirrel dachshund caterpillar who makes a terrible pair of gloves. This is Myths and legends, episode 432, these dreams. This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen. Today we're in Turkish folklore with two stories of two Amits. The guy is named Ahmet. That's not a title that I know of. And they are all living their dreams, but in different ways. We'll jump in with our first Ahmet the Junkman, who is literally living his dreams in that he goes to bed at like 6:30pm so he can be a rich guy when he falls asleep. Bed already? Ahmet's wife asked. Ahmet said yes. He was exhausted. He was a junk man. He spent his day searching through cinders to find scraps of iron he could sell. Yeah, I know what you do, she said, and it must be tiring and grueling, but it's like 6:15pm he was going to bed earlier and earlier each day. Was he okay? Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally? Not remotely, Ammit said. What was that other part? His wife asked. Oh, sorry hon, can't hear you over my exaggerated yawning and shut the door to bed. His job was exhausting, so it did kind of make sleep easier, even when he could still see so much daylight and hear the kids playing outside. Those annoyances were shooed away by what waited for him on the other side of unconsciousness. Ahmet closed his eyes in his humble room in the tower on the abandoned wall with everything in it paid for by relentless and punishing labor, and opened his eyes. In his mansion, being fanned by servants and being fed fruits and dates, he breathed, oh, this was good. He turned to his wife, who asked what they should do today. Yachts? Feasts? Riding space dolphins? Ahmet looked up and the dolphin riding off into space with a shimmering trail behind him winked, tipping his cool drink to the dolphin. Ahmet turned back to his wife. How about they did nothing at all? She smiled. Sounds great. About an hour later, Ahmet looked up when his servant announced a visitor. It was a man he hadn't seen before, in fact, well, he didn't know if he had seen the man before because Ammit couldn't see his face. He had one. It was just like he was looking at the man out of the corner of his eye, even when he was looking directly at the stranger. Wake up, the stranger said. What? How do you know? Wake up, the stranger demanded. No, no, no, no, don't say that. It's not time yet. In a moment, Ammit was out of the glory and splendor of his dream manor and in the darkness of his cramped room at the base of the tower. Closing his eyes with a groan, he tried to go back to sleep, to regain those few precious, lost hours, but he couldn't. He sat up, face in his hands, hearing the tree outside sway in the wind, knowing it was time to start this new, terrible day in this old, terrible life. Go to Egypt and your night shall be your day, a voice said from the corner of the room. That Ahmet kept himself from screaming was a feat, and he squinted. What? Go to Egypt and your night shall be your day, the voice repeated, and Ammit said, wait. That form. He recognized that face because he didn't recognize that face. The man. It was the man from his dream. But Egypt? How? Where? Ammit blinked and it was day. He was laying down in bed with the words Go to Egypt and your night shall be your day echoing in his head. Oh wow, it's 7pm and you're not in bed? Amit's wife asked a week later. No, of course not. That's so far away. It's just like dream nonsense. Ahmet snapped back at her. Bed is far away. She asked, puzzled. No Egypt? Who said anything about bed? Amit grumbled. Bed wasn't fun anymore. He just had the same dream, but not in a fun way and a bad way, because it was a bad dream about a bad guy. His wife stood. You know she felt for him, but this was the Middle Ages. It was hard for everyone and she had her own stuff going on and couldn't sit here and pretend to be mad about his dreams. And while they were fighting, he needed to stop yelling at the neighbors. Then they need to stop asking me about when I'm going to Egypt. Ammit said, no one is asking when you're going to Egypt, and announced that for once she was going to bed before he was, because she just couldn't deal with him right now. She woke the following morning to some crazy person running the path by the wall saying, I go, I go, I go to the land of wealth. And it wasn't until she got up and saw Ahmet's traveling cloak and walking stick gone that she realized the crazy man running away down the wal had been her husband and he had left. Cap, hey, we got a guy on board. He says he's not paying, the first mate said to the captain of a boat bound for Egypt that same morning before dawn. And why is he still on board then? The captain stroked his beard. Well, he says that he was summoned to Egypt by some otherworldly force and you were bound to take him. The captain got serious. What? He said that? I mean, anyone can say that though, right? He didn't give any names or anything? The first mate shrugged. Nothing to suggest some eerie supernatural connection. Did he seem a little crazy? The captain asked, and the first mate pointed. Yes, that was definitely his whole vibe he was giving off. Or holy, the captain pointed. I mean, less so, definitely, but I guess it could read that way, the first mate allowed. You know what? It's not worth it. It's one spot and we can tuck him in somewhere in the bottom and just call it aesthetic plus. So wait, whose rations will we be feeding him from? The first mate said. Oh no, that's Ascetic Premium plus, the captain replied. Wait, I thought that was the old Deck Floor select package, the first mate said. Oh yeah, it was. We just changed some words around and added some like plus and premium. And now we can charge more for stuff we used to do for free, the captain said. But yeah, this Ahmet guy would get to sail for free. He wasn't about to get on the bad side of holy stuff. No thanks. And so that's how, not too long after, Ahmet found himself walking the streets of Cairo after getting warned with kicking that he should stay away from mansions that kind of looked like his dream mansion. He ended up on the street eating bread crusts of strangers. And when you're relying on the bread crusts of strangers, you should probably abstain from shouting at said strangers about how they're all liars and that you were tricked into coming there by faceless dream men. Eventually, everyone tired of his yelling and they just stopped coming around him. Ammit found all the streets he was on devoid of anyone seeking or offering charity. Eventually he decided that, marooned in a faraway land, no hope of being obscenely rich and winking at space dolphins, he didn't want to keep on going. He wandered out to the pyramids, where he laid next to them to wait for a stone to fall and crush him. Yes, those famously rickety pyramids that even at that point had stood for thousands of years were now going to have a stone shake free and fall. As he was laying there wincing, he heard a voice, an old man walking the desert. Why so miserable, father? Has your soul been so strangled that you prefer it being dashed out of your body to its remaining prescribed time in bondage? Ammit said he was from Istanbul, where he had been a junk man, but he had been plagued with dreams of more. He followed his dream to Egypt, where he now lived, though barely alone and starving. The old man, also named Ammit for some reason laughed. That was foolish, though he understood the urging. If he were to obey his dreams, then he would have left long ago as a man as young as Ammit, when his dreams first started. A dream told him to go to Istanbul, where there stood an old wall where some people lived. Some of the towers were square, some round. In the base of one lived an old man and his wife, and outside the tower stood a large tree. A man who has a face but he had never seen it pointed to that tree night after night. But the old man wasn't such a fool as to actually go to Istanbul to verify was an oft repeated dream and nothing more. Ammit laughed. He understood how foolish he was now to follow a dream to Egypt. If he had only been wise like this man wandering the desert on a workday, heckling strangers going through an obvious mental health crisis. He thanked the man who once again was also named Amit. But that isn't addressed and our Amit made. He seems less crazy now, the first mate explained to the captain. The captain sighed. Alright, still let him on for free, but upgrade him to Ascetic Premium plus Select, the first mate said. That was what he was on last time, right? We just changed the name. It's actually worse. It's the same seat but with more rats. And he understood. The rates and names seemed misleading and predatory, but what were people gonna do? Not sale places. The captain laughed. The first mate joined in. Yes, they hated their customers. Ahmet returned home one afternoon after a full day of work, bringing bread and beans and actually a few scraps of meat. His wife, when she opened the wooden door of the tower's base where they lived, was angry, but the rights of women being what they were, kind of had no choice but to take him back. Also, she was starving too. It took him a week until one night at dinner he looked out on the light of the fading day and saw next to his tower, the big tree, the one he had seen every day. He shook his head. No, that was impossible. In the other Amit stream, an elderly couple had lived in the tower next to the tree. But then Amit thought about it that actually his in laws had lived in this tower until they passed a few years back. And the old desert Ammit said he had that dream as a younger man. That night, well after dark, Ammit left with a shovel. The next morning he laughed over his bad luck with his wife, saying it had been foolish of him to listen to the desert Ammit, as foolish as it had been to go to Egypt in the first place. But he had to try. Besides, could she imagine if there had been treasure there? They would spend the rest of their short life defending it from their neighbors, the Sultan, I mean everyone who wanted a piece. She laughed too. So Ahmec continued on as a junk man, searching the wastes and trash for anything he could find to sell to support him and his wife. Still, fortune must have smiled on him because he would always get luckier than most, finding with a surprising regularity gold, jewels, even gemstones, when others would bring home only iron. I'm not sure what this story is saying actually follow your dreams, but also don't because you'll starve in a foreign land and condemn your spouse to abject poverty. And the true riches were at home the whole time. I do think Ahmet appreciates his life now though, and that he's more present in the waking world, realizing that wealth is only a nice addition and not everything. Of course, that luxury of not needing to focus on money is only brought about by having money and if he didn't have that wealth, he would very much notice not having it. So yeah, I'm back to not knowing what this story is saying. Sorry. In the second and final story today, it's another Amit who truly does not care about money. He found his passion in life fixing shoes and wants to do just that. Except he can't do that anymore. He needs to go be an astrologer. That though, will be right after this. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. I used to view strength as sort of the stoic, stiff upper lip sort of thing. As I get older though, I've seen how that works out for some people and I am now 100% in the camp that it's way healthier and stronger to be able to recognize and work through how you feel and those assumptions you make about your own life that sometimes you don't even realize we all have feelings and pressures and expectations. Therapy has absolutely helped me to process grief, anger, set healthy boundaries and just be more present person in my own life. Because really we only have one life and no one can make you change except you. If you're thinking of trying therapy, BetterHelp is a great option. They have something like 30,000 therapists who are licensed in the US and they take one of the more challenging things matching with the right therapists. And BetterHelp has it down to a science. A quick questionnaire mixed with their 12 plus years of experience and you have a list of tailored recommendations. And as you no doubt know, you can switch to a different therapist at any time if you're just not clicking. But they usually get it right the first time. Your emotional well being matters. Find support and feel lighter in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off@betterhelp.com therapy myths that's betterhelp.com myths I am like a takeout ninja. I am so fast I blink. And I have that app up. You know the one where you get the same food you get at a restaurant but it's twice the price, lukewarm and it's been sending in someone's smoky car for 45 minutes. ButcherBox though has stayed my thumb because it's already here. It really does take less time to make something and with butcherboxes amazing meat, we actually feel better. It fuels your body instead of slowing it down. With Butcherbox, a certified B corp, you absolutely taste the difference of 100% grass fed beef, free range organic chicken, crate free pork and wild caught seafood. Even better. For over a decade, Butcherbox has led the industry with meat and seafood that's antibiotic free, hormone free and independently verified. Because when it comes to fueling your body, quality isn't extra, it's everything. Clean whole protein means better support for strength, metabolism and that steady all day energy that we're all chasing. Whether it's you, you one or u, Butcherbox offers fully customizable plans that fit all your needs and it makes healthy the easy choice, not the exhausting one. As an exclusive offer, new listeners can get their choice between chicken breast or top sirloin for a year or two, ground beef for life plus $20 off your first box and free shipping always. That's butcherbox.com legends. Don't forget to use our code so they know we sent you. Amit sat back and looked at his shoes. Well, not his shoes. They belonged to the merchant down the road. But in a way, all the shoes he worked on were his shoes. His life was a good one. Waking up each morning, he knew exactly what the day would bring. And he was content with where he was and who he was. Ahmet the cobbler was right where he was supposed to be. Something or someone sat just inside the periphery of his vision. Oh, hi, honey. How long have you been there? He said to his wife. Sorry, I must not have seen you come in. You know, when I get locked into my work, I'm in there deep, he said, putting his tools away for the day. Why are you not the chief astrologer to the sultan? The woman sat back and crossed her arms, looking with a potent, acrid mixture of shame, disappointment, and disgust on her husband. Why am I not the what? The chief astrologer to the sultan, the woman said. Why are you not him? Um, because he already exists. Ahmed was struggling to understand what was going on here. Why don't you have that job instead of this job? Cause I'm a cobbler. I. I cobbler, I fix shoes. It's a completely different skill set. I add value to my community and repair and restore. He says vague phrases and wows the sultan with smoke and mirrors. You know my thoughts on astrology. Where is this coming from? It was coming from Ahmet's wife getting bumped from the baths today. She was just settling into her compartment when she was notified that the harem for the chief astrologer had arrived and that she would have to bathe on a different day. Okay, let's back up, Amit, said the harem of the astrologer. Okay, so stop me if I'm wrong. You would rather be one of a harem, one of a handful of women, than the sole wife of me, a cobbler? She sat there. Sorry. He told her to stop him if he was wrong. Also, she leaned forward. Harem can mean many things. There can be wives up to four if you support all of us. They could be concubines. They could be family members who are women who live in the harem quarters, or just servants who are women. But to answer your question, I would be cool with even the most simplistic version of it that you are referencing rather than be married to you. Wow, this. I believe this was a lot. The cobbler reeled. This felt like one of those things that would be really hard to get past in a marriage, paraphrasing a sketch in the show. I think you should leave. The woman said that it was an embarrassment to be married to him. She didn't respect him. She didn't respect what he did. And if she was with child, and she prayed she wasn't, she would make sure the child didn't respect him either. She got up now. She was going to the bath. When she came back, he better be on his way to becoming chief astrologer to the Sultan. The slamming door shook the house, and Amit sat nonplussed at his desk. What even was that he was so worked up that he couldn't relax. So he got his tools out and got back to work. After about an hour of replaying the conversation in his head, he was confident that this was nothing. She was just mad about the bath. It would all blow over by morning. Hi, amit said when he woke up on his workbench the following morning. I'm just, I don't know, waiting for an apology, he offered after several seconds of silence. Oh, okay. His wife thought about it. Um, I'm sorry that you are the way you are and that I'm stuck with you. She then made her way out to start her day. It didn't get better after that. In the story, she said, I will never call or think of you as my husband until you have been appointed chief astrologer to His Majesty. There is something to be said for pushing your spouse to be the best version of themselves. This is not that. It's not like Ahmet wants to set aside a career to, say, see where his mythology podcast goes. In a time when it was virtually impossible for a non celebrity to make a living doing a podcast, he had a stable, good job that he loved. All I'm saying is if the person you're with is purposefully making you miserable so that you give up something that's good for you, that you love, that's not a good situation for you and you should have some big conversations to make the pain stop. He gave her what she wanted, which, yes, is the exact definition of torture. He sold all of his tools and materials and the shoes he had fixed and made, and with that money bought an inkwell and reeds. Anyone who's ever picked up a nice camera, tried their first few brushstrokes with paint on canvas, or bought a nice guitar with the idea that you're finally going to learn guitar and strummed a few bars will know that having the right tools, even good ones, does not make you good at something. I've made a horrible mistake. Ahmet looked on the reeds and inkwells and paper. Well, that's your problem, she said. Too much time in the shop. People weren't coming to him as an astrologer. Here they were coming to him as a cobbler. Just this morning she had to turn away two dozen people who loved his work. They would not leave. She had to resort to threats of bodily harm. No, he needed to go out to the highway and practice his craft. Astrologize away, but away from here. That's probably not what it's called, ammit mumbled. But he wouldn't know because he wasn't an astrologer. Astrology. Get your astrology here. Astrology. Ahmet sat down by the highway, calling out for people to try out his astrology free samples, but no one was going for it. Maybe they were busy. Maybe because they knew he was a shoemaker who until that morning had no training or experience in astrology and who actively derided the craft. As he sat by the road, feeling the sun on his skin in early autumn, he was grateful at least to see the sky. He never really appreciated how beautiful the clouds were, all cooped up in his workshop. Do you converse with the stars? A woman's voice called out as a shadow fell over him. He looked up until he saw a hinoum, which I've seen as a way to address noblewomen. Do I converse with the stars? Well, you could say that I'm compelled to. Ammit smiled. The woman thanked Allah and launched into a story. She went to the bath this morning, and when she did so she was positive she had her diamond ring. But she and her servants had searched every corner of the bath, her home, and the path between the two and couldn't find it anywhere. Please tell me where my diamond ring is and I will both bless and handsomely reward you, the woman pleaded. Ahmet closed his eyes. Yep. Nothing. He had charts and pens and ink, and he should probably maybe have those out right now. Do something. But he didn't know what. All he could think about now was that he had his eyes closed for something like 20 seconds and still hadn't thought about anything. He opened them and saw the hem of the woman's trousers. He was skilled in shoe repair and actually clothing repair too. He'd almost become a tailor. It was like a coin toss. He loved them both, so there were things that he noticed that no one else would like. A tear beginning to form in the leg of the noblewoman's trousers. Oh, I actually perceive a rent there, he said, almost without thinking. Just trying to be helpful. The woman gasped. Ammit shrugged. Well, at least she hadn't paid up front, so it was only his pride and self respect he would be losing. But his day had started with him sitting by the side of the highway hawking astrology. So those were basically gone now. Anyway, thank you. Yes, I had all but forgotten. The woman was elated. I was worried about the ring slipping off in the bath, so I put it in the crevice of the cold water fountain here. A thousand blessings and thank yous. She pressed several gold pieces into his hands and rushed off back toward the bath. Ammit looked at what equaled several times what he made in a month as a cobbler and sat stunned. What just happened? Here you go. Please take all of it. I'll just use a bit to buy back my shoe supplies and we can be done with this. Ahmet set the gold down on the table. Upon returning home, his wife looked up. The salary for the chief astrologer for the Sultan was a paltry one. That's not a salary. I'm not. I'm still not the chief astrologer for the Sultan, ahmet said. That guy still already exists. Hmm. Then why are you stopping? She asked. Ahmet sighed and said he guessed he wasn't. The pasha said it was an honor truly to be in the presence of the astrologer. Ahmet the cobbler. What brings you to my home today, sir? Ahmet said, feeling grateful that he was a body sweater and not a face sweater, and thus the pasha couldn't see that his undershirt was absolutely drenched. He had been happy being a nobody cobbler after his one lucky guess. The whole district seemed to know his name. The woman hadn't stopped singing his praises to all of her high society friends. The pasha had lost a diamond necklace and he had employed all manner of astrologers and diviners to find it. But everyone had come back with nothing and been beaten for it. Now he was here at Ammit's house. How many diamonds were on the necklace? Ammit said, looking thoughtfully at the charts and stuff. Beautiful font work and drawings. Didn't know what any of it meant, but knowing wouldn't help him now. 24 the Pasha, the military officer said. The enslaved man he brought with him nodded thoughtfully by his side. Ammit looked up with confidence. Then that's how many hours it would be until the location would be revealed. Almost falling out of his chair, the pasha said, really? He would recover the necklace in 24 hours. Of course it would take an hour to discover each diamond, but when he had all of them, he would have a full picture of what happened. The pasha rose and clapped. This was wonderful news. He would be by tomorrow at the same hour and learn what happened to his necklace. Amit said he looked forward to it. As the pair left, the enslaved man took a half dozen looks back at Ahmet, studying him. But Amit didn't waver. The moment the door shut, he collapsed. Wow. I am so curious how you're gonna do it, his wife whispered. He stood and pointed. He had enough of this. Oh, woman, what evil influence impelled you to go the wrong path and drag others with you? When the 24 hours are up, you will perhaps repent. Alas, too late. Your husband gone from you forever, without a hope of even being united in paradise. Okay, Mr. Astrologer. The wife smiled. I get it. You won't tell me how it's all done. I'll stop asking. Both of them heard the door rock on its hinges as if someone had been leaning against it. When the wife went to open it, she and Ahmet only saw the enslaved man rushing to catch up to the pasha. That night, as Ahmet was putting his go bag together to maybe leave town forever, he heard from his wife in the main room that he had more clients. We're closed. I'm deep in thought for the pop. He stopped speaking when upon exiting his room, he saw a face. He recognized the face of the enslaved man from that afternoon. He now accompanied a woman. Please, learned one, you are a great and good man. Have compassion on my weakness. Do not expose me to the wrath of my husband. I will do whatever penance you order and will bless you five times daily for as long as I live, she said. How can I save you? He asked the woman. What's decreed is decreed. He of course was referring to the big picture idea that we all have our fates as are known by an omniscient God. Seeing her fret two, he also learned that words unuttered were arrows still in the quiver. If you won't pity me, I'll confess. I will go and confess to my pasha. Perhaps he will have pity, she said. Ahmet had learned in the intervening days since becoming a fake astrologer that sometimes just looking pensive and saying you were going to consult the stars for their views did a lot of the work for you. I must go now, great wise man, she said, or else my husband, the pasha, will miss me. It's obvious, you know I stole the necklace. Can I give you the necklace before he arrives tomorrow so you can restore it without explanation? Oh, you're the pasha's wife, Ammit said. You know what? He could have pity on the woman. Yes, it wouldn't do to simply restore it. Though she learned her lesson about, let's say, theft. Nodding, the woman said, absolutely. Then if tomorrow morning she places the necklace between the mattresses of the pasha's bed and he would exercise his influence on her behalf for astral intervention. Thanking the wise man, she rushed off back home. We'll see how more money and fame only bring more problems to the guy who just wants to make shoes. Can he please just go back to fixing shoes? But that will once again be right after this. Carissa and I have kind of a specific decorating style. Actually, I should say that she does. I just appreciate it because it's all her. She has a great eye for that. It's sort of a modern Victorian meets mid century modern. Do you know what? No furniture store in the city has that. But you go on Wayfair and there are so many options and with so many budgets in mind. I just looked up a couch, for example, found one that's immediately perfect and and it could be here in two days. And I'm like, okay, well that seems too good to be true, but you can go down to the reviews. Okay, that's good. But are those real? Oh, there are dozens of pictures from actual customers. Real houses and apartments. Wow. Basically, Wayfair has thought of everything. 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