Everyone Says I'm a Dreamer

Boston University campus
Originally uploaded by holylandhipster.

I have this uncanny ability to remember my dreams. Most nights, I have 1-2 dreams, and I wake up remembering 85% of the details. As a writer, I'm very fortunate since these dreams have provided tremendous fodder for my writing.

Last night was no exception.

Already at the end before things have even begun, I dreamt about my graduation from the Masters program. I was dropped off in front of the ivy covered building, which resermbled a building you might find on either the Harvard or Boston Univeristy campuses as opposed to the Jerusalem stone buildings at Bar Ilan University.

I immediately entered the double doors and went up to the Professor in charge, who was handing out the caps, gowns, yearbooks and diplomas encased in the same labyrinthine puzzle box from the Da Vinci Code movie. I accepted these items and moved to one of the seats, where I met a colleague who was also already there.

This is the part of my dreams that always really disturbs me. I am looking at this girl, and in my mind we are clearly friends and I know her well, but when I wake up i realize that I have no idea who she is. This is when I wonder if she was a nameless, random person I passed on the streets of Tel Aviv, or a girl who sold me coffee at the Aroma in Dizingoff, or even some random person who passed me at the Ben Gurion airport. For all I know, she is a face that I spied on the NYC subways months ago that finally wound its way up to my subconscious.

But I digress. As we're getting dressed for the merriment of commencement to commence, I opened the yearbook and tried to figure out this passage from the Gemara (Talmud). For the life of me, I just can't figure out.

Cue Mom stage right. My Mom, who had flown in to Israel with my Father, showed up in her Shabbos finery. I'm still not sure why she was wearing a hat over her sheital, but hey, can't control the details of my dreams. Anyway, Mom came by and together we tried to understand the passage but both failed. So Mom left to go get my Dad, who came over and was about to explain what it meant when he stopped suddenly and turned to look outside the windows.

He paused and then looked at me and said:
Dad: Can't you hear that?
Me: Hear what?
That's when the acoustic strumming of the guitar, with some faint singing, starts to hit my eardrums and begins to get louder and louder.
Dad: Are you going to let him sing that song?
I wait a minute and listen to the words of the song, which are ant-Israel, anti-Israeli government and anti-war.
Me: No way!

Now, I have no idea why I thought I could do anything to stop this guy, but apparently in my dream, I had the power. I marched over to the door and threw it open, took off my shoe (which was Jimmy Choo! Random that I looked down to see the label of my shoe, but I spied it nonetheless) and like a QB throwing in the middle of the most important blitz of the game on Superbowl Sunday, took aim and fired. It hit him mid-lyric and the man immediately stopped singing in Hebrew. He looked at me in shock while cradling the high-heeled shoe (really nice black pumps too, I wonder if I ever had a pair like those in real life) nestled comfortably in the grass knoll in front of the building.

Me: "I will NOT let you turn my graduation into some sort of political forum for your person statement!"

And with that, he stopped singing, and I closed the door and walked away.

That's when I woke up.

Today should be a busy day. I'm hoping to look at TV's for my apartment, and want to walk around Sheinken street while I still live relatively nearby.

Song of the morning: A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley. No particular reason why.