Ever since Rosh Hashana, my mind has been swimming every night with dreams. I’m often my own worst enemy when it comes to my thought process, caught in between worlds of sentimentality, remembering, anticipating, assuming, analyzing.
I spent Shabbat in Jerusalem, it was quite tiring, emotionally and physically- but I had a transparent string that kept my chin up and my heart cool- the cooler change in weather made me reflect about this time last year, about how grateful I am that time passes and you live for other things. I took a long walk before Shabbat finished, I thought about things a lot. I pretended I lived in those beautiful cottage like homes in Baka. It’s so romantic- it’s easy to get lost in day dreaming.
It’s heartwarming to know that I’m still making it in Israel and my baskets are in many ways a lot more fuller. It was only last year, that I was trying to figure myself out, numbingly going through the motions of Sukkhot, with my transparent string- a real life marionette- imitating movements that help me blend in with the world.
My dreaming has taken on a theme. Last night, I had the third nightmare of the IDF. I can’t remember when these types of dreams started- but they are not fun to have. When you’re younger and have nightmares, because of one’s naivety, they are not so bad. When you experience life, and the worse things you could possibly think of happen in real life, your nightmares become brutal. When two crushing things happen in your life and all the emotions from both things occur in one dream, it’s almost debilitating.
In these series of dreams, I’m an officer, i’m a soldier, and this time- I was on milluiem (reserves) as a paratrooper. There was a commander who was a bad seed, in my dream- he’s blond hair and blue eyed and massive. In this dream he is trying to recruit me to do something terrible and I am avoiding him. In order to coerce me, he has copies made of all the letters Tsiki wrote to me and is telling me “if his memory means anything to you, you’ll do this..”. I try to punch him, I do my combination punch that I practiced so many years in boxing, it’s a strong combo, but doesn’t phase him. I try punching him in the stomach and a hand with one finger comes out from his stomach and stops my fist I run from him and a war is about to begin. Tanks are rolling in, they are paving the land to make way. Scene changes and i’m in a car where people are rocking the car and yelling, banging on the windows, there is an old man and I tell him to keep calm, fearing a heart attack. I’m out of a car and running into a moving train- trying to find a more peaceful area. Tsiki’s body is in front of me- wrapped in linen, a woman is crying and trying to undo the linen. I’m telling her to stop- to leave it be, I jump off the train and am sitting at a table. I find all these letters my parents wrote to me before my dad died but never received.
I wake up, crushed, confused- when I was younger, I was obsessed with dreams, finding the meaning, lucid dreaming- being able to control your own subconscious. When I have dreams like this- I don’t want to analyze them, I just want them to go away and I want to regain a sense of peace.
The rain started today. I come to work- soaked. Note to self: buy an umbrella.
Another season has begun in the country that has become my sibling. Whom I love to hate and hate to love.
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