One morning, Nasreddin Hodja woke up early. His stomach was softly rumbling.
He started craving something warm to soothe him.

Suddenly, he imagined a steaming bowl of tarhana soup, fragrant and inviting.

“If only I had a bowl of tarhana, and I could tear some stale bread into it,” he thought to himself.
“And a little sprinkle of red pepper on top, oh…”

While still lost in his daydream, the aroma of the soup seemed to fill his nose.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

He opened it to find his neighbor’s child standing there.

— Hodja, my mother is sick today. There’s no food at home. If you have a bowl of soup, could you please share some?

Hodja paused for a moment, looking not at the child, but as if staring into his own dream.

Then he muttered quietly to himself:

— Wow… Even before the soup is made, the neighbors can already smell it. Looks like I’ll have to share this dream after all!