I went outside with the blood all over me and saw my mother, father, older and younger brother. They were all smiling as if nothing had happened, as if we had been together all this time.
"Sit down, Mr. Troublesome," my father said.
"Don't mind him," my mother chuckled.
I sat down facing my father, but couldn't eat with them. My body had gotten numb, and my family didn't seem to notice that I was covered with blood. It began to rain and my family ran into the house, leaving me outside. I sat in the rain for a while, letting it clean the blood off me. I got up to go into the house, but it wasn't there. It had disappeared. I was looking around confused when I woke up from the dream.
I had fallen off my bed.
I got up and went outside and sat on the stoop looking into the night. I was still confused, as I couldn't tell whether I had had a dream or not. It was the first time I had dreamt of my family since I started running away from the war. (17.57-62)
Ishmael's dream is disturbing, but comforting, too. His family doesn't see the blood on him. They still love him, no matter what he's had to do in the name of staying alive. They still see him as the boy they knew.