In this dream my chavruta and I were trapped in an Eli Roth-style hostel. We were locked in a room with a broken door - just a corner was broken off. Looking at it, we noted to each other that it made just a big enough hole for someone to squeeze themselves through if they were truly crazed with the desire to kill. Just then, a crouching figure blocked off the light from the hallway and started slowly scraping through the jagged hole.
I'm drawing again.
Also, a second part turned out to the poem about R Eliezer (with undertones having to do with family and Northern Ireland). Here it is, with the already-finished part under the cut:( part one )
oh, wind in the hair of the horse
of the new moon's messenger,
take me back to my family's house
where the Temple still crumbles
down their insensible cheeks
and patrol boots stamp their laughter hard
where they find my father, and drag him in,
where I lose my Torah, and stand mute at the door,
where youth means trouble, where I cannot know what happened,
where the air and knives are wet and cold -
or carry me away
to the kingdoms of the sea
I will swallow every well and wave
and drown tall ships inside of me.