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Friendly Martyrs' Brigade
Oct. 8th, 2011 07:14 pmEverything in this dream was in Hebrew unless otherwise noted.
In a 5-hour nap the day before Yom Kipur, I dreamt that I was in the Toronto airport, having just flown from Israel. I was in the concrete area where you wait for taxis, and it was night. Some security guard came up and said "Good evening" to me. I responded, "Thanks, how did you learn to speak Hebrew?" but he seemed confused. I heard someone else with an accent saying, "Haha, I guess those were the only words he learnt."
I turned around and saw two Arab guys standing with bags on their shoulders. It turned out we were going the same way, and I was delighted to go with them, because we could talk in Hebrew all the way there, and in the dream I had been missing this language very much already, somehow. We talked on the night bus to the TTC station, although it's pretty unrealistic that many Arabs would be too delighted about speaking in Hebrew (I once tried to compliment a woman on her pink sequined sneakers and she didn't accept the compliment until I told her in English).
Especially these two, as it turned out they were members of the Al Aqsa Marters' Brigade (I saw their laminated page showing names and faces of everyone in the cell, the style of which was blatantly ripped off from a kindergarten class list where I work). When I found that out, I thought, "Well, let's keep being friendly." I wondered if they knew I was a Jew but it seemed pretty obvious and they were still chatty and warm.
"Well, this is our stop," they said at last. "Good luck finding your aunt's house." They then B.A.S.E. jumped out the window into a green valley.
"Bye," I said, "Good luck." I continued on my way.
It also seems strange to me that I had a dream about feeling nostalgic for speaking in Hebrew when I spend a large large amount of my time operating only in that language (at work, with kids, at yeshiva).
In a 5-hour nap the day before Yom Kipur, I dreamt that I was in the Toronto airport, having just flown from Israel. I was in the concrete area where you wait for taxis, and it was night. Some security guard came up and said "Good evening" to me. I responded, "Thanks, how did you learn to speak Hebrew?" but he seemed confused. I heard someone else with an accent saying, "Haha, I guess those were the only words he learnt."
I turned around and saw two Arab guys standing with bags on their shoulders. It turned out we were going the same way, and I was delighted to go with them, because we could talk in Hebrew all the way there, and in the dream I had been missing this language very much already, somehow. We talked on the night bus to the TTC station, although it's pretty unrealistic that many Arabs would be too delighted about speaking in Hebrew (I once tried to compliment a woman on her pink sequined sneakers and she didn't accept the compliment until I told her in English).
Especially these two, as it turned out they were members of the Al Aqsa Marters' Brigade (I saw their laminated page showing names and faces of everyone in the cell, the style of which was blatantly ripped off from a kindergarten class list where I work). When I found that out, I thought, "Well, let's keep being friendly." I wondered if they knew I was a Jew but it seemed pretty obvious and they were still chatty and warm.
"Well, this is our stop," they said at last. "Good luck finding your aunt's house." They then B.A.S.E. jumped out the window into a green valley.
"Bye," I said, "Good luck." I continued on my way.
It also seems strange to me that I had a dream about feeling nostalgic for speaking in Hebrew when I spend a large large amount of my time operating only in that language (at work, with kids, at yeshiva).
