cremains: (kafka's grave)
I dreamt I was moving out of my grandfather's house. It seemed he had also died while I was living there (in reality, he died a few months after I left). My father was helping me move, but it mostly consisted of throwing everything out, and I really do mean everything. I looked around, stunned to see just a bit of garbage and paper on the bare floors. As we were about to go, I saw his small collection of liquor bottles, sitting on a windowsill that in reality does not belong to his house but to the yeshivah. I wanted to take the orange-flavoured bitter one with me, to remember him, but wasn't sure if the airplane would allow it. And where was I going, in the end? To Belfast, alone.

In another dream, the kids were abducted by a cartoonish witch, although it was I who lived in a gingerbread house. Somehow I fought to rescue them from her, but on bringing them back home I realised that they had huge, floating, plastic hearts where their eyes should be, and other suit symbols in the deck of cards. I knew they would actually never be the same again.

In waking-life news, the city rains and hails. In Jerusalem they would be overjoyed. Even after months of rain, if anyone began to complain they would be quickly hushed up and reminded that it's a blessing. Here the rain is devoid of meaning and Swedish people go on jogging and powerwalking and berrypicking and doing whatever Swedish things they have to do. I mostly stay inside and work on writing Eikhah, which is newly out of season but only becomes more valued by me.

My dog bite hurts.
cremains: (ד"ר פראנק נ פורטר)
On the second take, everything turned out well.

full picture )
note: alef on the first line isn't blurred like that... strange the photo came out that way. I might try to take another picture soon.

Meanwhile, I had a dream that I and my havrutha, Ben, were swimming in a canal, as if racing but without a competition -- it was like a test of strength and endurance, hard work. In the dream, that actually was our entire havrutha. Occasionally, black smog would plume across our vision, and I was worried. When I turned back, I saw a giant oil tanker speeding towards us. Ben thought he could outswim it, and started going faster. I was too nervous, and climbed out to stand on the paved shore. In the end, he made it.

I would guess based on how I encounter him that Ben represents a person who does whatever he wants with confidence, even things which seem a little ridiculous, and I represent my own insecurity, and the dream is about not being too cautious, that too much doubt will get me left behind.

In a second dream, a jade turtle necklace turned into a real flying turtle.


Jul. 11th, 2012 07:18 pm
cremains: (kafka's grave)
We were in Jerusalem, in Mahane Yehudah, which was transformed into wide, open courtyards with little stairs and columns here and there, mostly without stores, and without crowds. There was some sort of carnival going on, but the most we saw of it was a scattering of "stilt walkers" without stilts, but with colourful ballgowns, climbing up and down on the walls.

I was dressed in huge, raggedy winter clothes, all black. I was taking my sister to a Def Leppard concert, but I actually know nothing about Def Leppard, so in my dream it was a vampiric clown with leprosy who performed some music but mostly sound poetry.
cremains: (always rain)
Dream #1:

I had lived in Netanya all my life. Netanya was not a seaside town in Israel where Mizrahi mafia families build rival bakeries and burn each other's down (real life... so many fond memories of living there), but a series of aging wooden docks and rafts which supported houses. A ferry would take people from Netanya to Jerusalem, which was more like a small village scattered over a mountain. In the dream, I urgently needed H. to rescue me from something. The ferry had already left and so I slipped into the water between the piers and began to swim to Jerusalem. It turned out that he was already by my side back in my house, which I shared with old friend DSN. In fact, I was already there in the past as well and never had to leave.

Dream #2:

This is one in a series of dreams where H.'s ex is not a terrible abuser trying to get me legally declared a "whore," but in fact is a gorgeous person both internally and externally. I want to know what that whole theme is about; she's never been portrayed as bad in any one of my dreams.

Anyway, as in real life, we had just Y. my middle stepson over for Pesah. We were a little adrift in a strange village at night, with lights hung from the posts but no people in sight.

The dream shifted so that I was in public the next day wearing only a short skirt and nothing at all on top. I had to walk with my arms folded over my chest, and sought safety in the house of the ex. At first I was afraid that she would hurt me, but as usual in these dreams she was perfectly charming (she had, however, her regular real-life appearance). She allowed me in and gave me run of the bathroom to take care of myself. In the cabinet, I found a plastic bag with my clothes: a floor-length brown skirt with ribbons, a multi-layered shirt that shimmered and looked somewhat Greek, and a wide headband made of many twisted crimson and gold cloths that was almost a hair covering. When I was dressed, I looked like a queen. My other two stepchildren came in and were cute and loving with me.
cremains: (Spock)
I dreamt I was appointed by my whole high school to be the DJ for the final dance. I was at first apprehensive, then realised I was a fantastic choice as I could easily create a perfect mix. More than anything I wanted to open with "Hot Patootie," which I thought would blow people's minds as it's a completely overlooked song (in real life, I do think the lyrics "My head used to swim with the perfume I smelt / my hands kinda fumbled with my white plastic belt" are fantastic). Also to be included were Eyal Golan and a metric tonne of Mizrahi disco, sandwiched between the likes of "Jessie's Girl."

In the dream, it went well. In real life, I turned down a job on the basis of assessing myself to be insufficiently meticulous yet productive.
cremains: (Default)
On Tuesday night, nightmares:

I dreamt that I woke up in the morning and began getting dressed, but something was in my throat. I coughed, and a partly-dissolved birth control pill came out. I choked again and began vomiting a massive amount of the pills. I knew I had been force-fed them but had no memory of that or the entire previous night. I stumbled out into the street and tried to make my way down through it, and it was filled with men, only men. I knew they had done nameless and vague but horrible things to me and I tried to strike them as I passed. Then I saw a kid I work with, a difficult two-year-old, grown up but still with the same pale skin and long, golden hair. "Ilai, why didn't you protect me?" I demanded. He answered in his current raspy demon-voice, "I sorry, Yonah, I was scared." ("I sorry" is super Ilai-diction) I was furious and full of despair.

In the second dream of the night, Israel and Iran were just beginning nuclear war. I was being evacuated the next morning, and wandered through Independence Park in Jerusalem, which in the dream was even larger, with huge oak trees instead of olives and dates, and the running water was real, not from fountains. Helicopters were coming down from the sky. People could only meet in secret at night at the top of dark clock towers.

These made it a dream fast day. Then, on Wednesday night:

I dreamt I was wandering through a forest at twilight, and found on the ground qulmusim made of white feathers. At the tips as they had been scraped with the knife, the feathers had hardened, smoothened, and condensed to be the consistency of alabaster, slightly translucent. Some of the feathers were twisted and the nibs seemed malformed, but a sofer I know appeared and told me they were all usable, and made from a very good species of bird. He pointed up into the trees and showed me three owl-like birds, white and fuzzy, with grey heads. The stars came out.

The Dead

May. 15th, 2012 10:36 am
cremains: (Default)
I was standing on King George Street, washed out in bright sunlight, on a rickety public phone. I was talking to my dead Nonno (who was nonetheless sitting in his house on his favourite chair), and crying, telling him I was never going to see him again. He told me that he would be seeing me in two weeks' time.

Then he was in Jerusalem, but actually it was dead Nonna and Zia Rita, old and stumpy, gold-chained, wearing those t-shirt-sleeved flower print dresses that button all the way down which elderly Italian women love. They were excited to look around the city with me. I took them to Agrippas Street to meet with another one of my aunts. We were overwhelmed by the street performers and all the colours and the unbelievably bright sun.


May. 12th, 2012 11:17 pm
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
The faqus (light-green, fuzzy, dry cucumber) season has ended, and the grape leaf season has begun, so on Friday morning I came home from the shuq with a small, wrapped stack of grape leaves.

I dreamt that eating them made people slowly turn into goblins, which meant large green Yoda ears and a fleshy green beak, in stature and facial expression much like a Chrono Trigger imp (but they don't have the beak!). The change would fade on gradually. I became one and enjoyed it greatly. One of the kids at my work was also a goblin, but upon asking I found out that it was not because of grape leaves, but rather because his mom is Turkish and German (true...).


Thanks to Y., goat milk has become the only cold substance I recreationally nurse. It only gets better and better.

Oral exam with esteemed teacher coming up. @_@
cremains: (drunken vulcan)

1. That Jimmy Stewart, who was 100% conflated with the administrative head of my yeshivah, was involved in huge amounts of drug crime, and dub step clubbing. The dream was mostly him dancing dub step on Toronto subway platforms. I do not actually know what dub step is or where I could have heard this term.

2. That I entered TD bank and saw a huge secretary phone with multiple buttons on a small table. It was shaking, which caused the receiver to hover above its cradle. I went over and tried to push the receiver out of the air, but it just wouldn't work. A clerk reached her hugely long arm over and with sudden violence stamped my hand with a pictograph indicating that it is forbidden to jostle the phone. It was actually a brand and it burnt my hand horribly.


I came home today feeling cripplingly depressed, my default mood these days since there is so much pain to deal with. As I walked in the hallway, I hear Y. shout "Forbidden for Yonah to enter the kitchen!" He explains that he's preparing for me a special drink and I must guess what it is. "It's not poison. I think you'll like it, yes, I have an idea that you'll like it." He sticks his head out and cocks it to the side. "You seem like a woman who likes it." After a few moments again: "Don't worry, it's not poison."

I tell him okay, and that meantime I'll go say minhah.

In the end he can't wait and comes to see me while I'm still wearing my shel rosh and talith. He doesn't bat an eye at this, however, as to him it's somewhat normal, and hands me a cup. "But this is just milk," I say.

"IS IT?" he demands.

I smell it. "Yes."

He folds his arms and tells me to say shehakol and drink it. I do.

"What is it?" he asks again.

"It tastes like normal milk, maybe with a little sweetness added." I wonder if he put in a slight amount of sugar? It's the sort of thing he'd do. But he triumphantly revealed that it was goat milk which he bought specially for me. I told him to try some, and he did, and happily exclaimed that he likes it just as much as me.

This encounter made my day. Also the whole thing happened with him wearing his tefilin (which I gave him, my old pair) and a tiny talith which we gave him just a year or so ago, already too small for his body.
cremains: (kafka's grave)
I dreamt that I was in a village with very few people in it. I was able to explore and do as I liked, and the dream had the feeling of an old RPG at the stage where you're out exploring the world for the first time. In fact, it reminds me of my favourite part of my favourite game, Shadows of Darkness, when you're in the Moldavian town checking out the woods and people's secrets and breaking into the Thieves' Guild. I love to get to that stage of the game and never leave.

In the dream, I had gone into an old couple's home and somehow successfully completed a mini-mission there. As I finished (don't remember what it was), a carpet unrolled from their living room and out the door. I followed it to another house, much larger, abandoned. I climbed up the kitchen counter and swung the spice cabinet out from the wall, revealing a dusty elevator shaft going from the basement to beyond my vision.

I began climbing the shaft by working my way up wooden struts, which were old and rickety. It occurred to me that I might fall and die, but that this would be great. I would love to die doing something so wonderful as exploring and felt no angst whatsoever - in fact, it was a gift to die this way. Then it suddenly struck me that my family and friends (such as they are) would have no idea that it was great and would be incredibly sad. I had to get the message to them that everything was fine. But I couldn't, so I continued with my enthusiasm slightly, but only slightly, dimmed.

I wish this would really happen.


Mar. 24th, 2012 09:06 pm
cremains: (always rain)
A dream from Friday night: I was travelling with my friend Tsomi, [personal profile] egregious, and several other women, all of whom were very beautiful, walking from Jerusalem to an outlying village in a journey that would take us a couple of days. The first part of the dream took place in a vast spice and fruit store, where my friends stopped to pick up presents for our hosts in the village (as in real life, I didn't have any money, so I just loitered around and advised them on the best choice). Then we departed and walked through the night.

In the hot part of the afternoon we were at the bottom of a valley, and the path had narrowed considerably, hemmed in by olive trees and greenery. We were overtaken on the path by two tall men, Muslims, yet sort of monkish. They were dressed in flowing black robes, black kufis, but white embroidered pants and cuffs, and shining salt-and-pepper hair combed back in waves. They were reciting a list of problems in the world ("vomitting, injury to the hand, poverty," etc). We asked them for help on our way but they brushed past us imperiously, turning into a gate beyond which was their building. They belonged to the Order of the Recitation of the List of Infinite Ills. Their job was to recite all the problems in the world, constantly.

At this point we discovered that there was another gate adjacent to the Muslims' one, and beyond it a yeshivah. My friends wanted to go in. "I don't think they'll necessarily be any friendlier," I warned, but the gate burst open with very cheerful students. They looked Ashkenazi by ethnic stereotype (light brown hair, pale) and dress (overabundance of vests, tsitsith out not in). They brought us into their beith midrash which in retrospect was actually Hart House from the U of T, and showed us rooms where we could stay as long as we liked.

In one room I found a note from Ex-Nun, saying that this is where she wanted Cleocatra and Mercutio (our cats which she gave us reluctantly) to stay for the rest of their lives. I wondered if I could live here and made an appointment to see the Rosh Yeshivah. I asked him if I could learn there too.

"Actually, the only reason why we have only men learning here is because we never thought before of having women learn here too. But it's a great idea, of course you can," he said. He gave me a book and told me to go find a havrutha in the beith midrash. I was thrilled at the idea of living in this tiny yeshivah basically for ever, and the cats too.
cremains: (kafka's grave)
I dreamt that I was Gaius Baltar in a giant, crowded stadium that was located in the stratosphere, with long staircases all the way down to the earth and all the way up to various space stations. A film that was playing for the crowd had just been interrupted for a public announcement that there was some sort of shooting going on. I knew that it was the Cylon invasion, which was my fault, although the dream was not too clear on in what way.

People began rioting and crowding for the stairs downwards, but prophesy told me that the Cylons were in the stairwells shooting huge masses of people as they tried to flee. I went with a handful of other people running up the staircases to the space ships, where I knew one of them would take me safely away. The guilt and fear were completely crippling.

Note: I saw maybe part of the first season of Battlestar Galactica many years ago.

Things are difficult, but not uniformly so. After all this time I still can't get over how frightening it is to be seriously poor. I'm working on a ketubah, writing, listening again to Astral Weeks. Also reading many times again "The Ballad of Reading Gaol," feeling depressed and worried, and I wonder if in some way it fed into my Baltar dream.

the poem

I had an LJ friend once who painted Oscar Wilde in greyscale, with a background of purple. I said something like how Wilde is often portrayed the opposite way, as a breath of colour in a dull world. She became rightfully annoyed and said no, the more important thing for her to express was his role as a lonely voice of real and felt morality in a world of superfluous shit.


Mar. 16th, 2012 11:31 am
cremains: (always rain)
I dreamt I left some sort of high school and was waiting at the bus stop with three women on a large, abandoned road. The wind was howling. Suddenly one of them pointed to the horizon and I saw there was a large, black tornado gathering and coming our way. At first I was unsure if flight was really necessary, but the women began acting terrified, grabbing their things and running away. I started to run, too (but in that way that you're trying to go much faster than the dream will allow), towards the miqlat (bomb shelter) of the high school, managed to wrench open the giant iron door, and dived in. My feet were still outside as the tornado swept by and tried to suck me out, but the people in the miqlat pulled me in and closed the door.

Once inside, I wandered around in shock and took in the people who were quietly milling about, tending to their kids or injuries. A group of people approached me and I became nervous. They beat me horribly for the entire long rest of the dream and it became apparent that they were IRA.


The other day, Y. came up to show me proudly how he'd put on his arm tefilin (my old pair, which I gave to him last year). I thought he was showing me the correct way he positioned it, which sadly so many people cannot seem to grasp, and praised him for it until he walked off happily. Later, H. explained that he was showing me that he was covering it with his shirt sleeve, which as he told H., he learnt from me.

I'm feeling adrift these days.


Feb. 25th, 2012 06:46 pm
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
In this dream, Captain Picard was trapped in a giant skyscraper inhabited only by vicious translucent squares. The squares were basically brightly-coloured tiles that would roll into formations and patrol the area. They were guided by a single purpose. Picard had to escape, and finally managed to do so by learning how to influence their command system, which could be done via a certain intense (but vague, wordless) force of thought. He commanded them to fall into marching lines and filed them out of the building, after which he himself escaped into post-apocalyptic San Fransisco.

There he met up with a hyper-muscled, torn-shirted sex worker named Chip, who sported a featherback hairdo. "I can read everyone's desires simply by gazing at their physical appearance," said Chip as he leaned against the wall in his bomb shelter/bordello.

"Is that so," said Captain Picard. "Then do tell me about mine."

"Your desire is to destroy the square army. But they have already become translucent cubes."

Picard was astonished. Chip picked up an energy gun from the corner of the room and swore that he would fight with him to the end. Together they jumped on a hoverbike and went off to fight the cubes.
cremains: (kafka's grave)
In this dream the yeshivah was a house in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan and I still lived with my parents. Jean Chretien was still Prime Minister. I was at the yeshivah for some sort of soiree and was annoyed to hear one of the teachers, who in real life is, as H. put it, "a Hellenistic, body-glorifying freak," arguing loudly in the living room that no fat people should be allowed to serve in the Canadian government. As a side note to this he noted contemptuously that Jean Chretien had recently thrown up and that made him unhealthy enough to be "as bad as" fat.

I was enraged by his hideous guffaws and snuck into the dining room, where I found his plate laid out for him. I tipped over his wine glass into his plate, in some sort of weird parallel to Jean Chretien vomitting.

Then I went back into the living room, where all my teachers were sitting and drinking. I said to the Hellenist, "I think I've done something awful." "Don't worry," he replied, "Probably the person won't even notice." But then he got up and went into the other room and returned in an incredible wrath. "Yonah, you did this!" he shouted. "If you had told me before I would have forgiven you, but now I never will!" The entire room was disgusted and furious with me, even my first Talmud teacher whom I greatly respect and fear.

I decided to show myself out and on the way saw my dad arguing with someone working in the kitchen. My dad was saying "Can't you just give me the fork and we'll boil it ourselves?" I turned to the cook and said in Hebrew, "What's the matter with the fork? Tell me what happened." "No," said the cook coldly. I realised that they were kashering every utensil I had touched in the house and my dad was trying to save me embarrassment.

In the lobby, I put on my boots, coat, and H.'s special woolen hat that I always try to steal from him in real life, in order to look good. I resolved to go to the river which runs through Saskatoon and drown myself before the morning.


Feb. 21st, 2012 08:44 am
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
Three nights in a row, I had a strange recurring dream.

Night #1:

I dreamt that the yeshivah was away for Shabath (again), in the same large, bleak library as I dreamt before here. It was night, and I missed the evening prayer quorum so I went behind one of the metal bookshelves and started the amidhah. The only problem was that my knees turned to rubber and I had a horrible time trying to stand up and not fall over the place. A certain yeshivah authority who has caused me many problems came up and started frowning at me and I realised I looked like a total dumbass.

Night #2:

Same dream as Night #1, only this time I realised the problem was that I was standing on a "trampoline tile" in the floor.

Night #3 (last night):

This time I was in a large, abandoned conference hall or something, with many floors arranged in a ring with a railing so you could look all the way down to the ground floor. I thought I was alone, although there was a vague awareness that H. was somewhere around. I went up to the railing to say the amidhah, but had the same rubber-knee problem and thought I was going to fall. At the last part, modim, I saw that the reason this time was because the floor curved sharply into oblivion and became extremely soft under my feet. I freaked out and broke off the amidhah and staggered backwards.

Suddenly I saw that R Prof Shaar-Yashuv was sauntering towards me, emerging from some poorly-lit hallway. He is a person with a goatee, beret, and sunglasses who teaches German philosophy at a Moroccan synagogue and frowns sharply upon Qabalah, much like my Darda'i community, only he is very German instead of Yemenite. Except that he has basically adopted Moroccan customs since he married into that community. Anyway I like him and was relieved to see him in the dream. I told him about the sharp drop in the floor and he went over to investigate, but slipped and fell all the way down where he broke all the bones of his body and died on impact.

I started screaming since my point of view was all the way down with the mangled corpse, and H. in the dream came up and pulled me back from the edge.
cremains: (Default)
I dreamt that the alarm failed to go off and I was late for yeshivah, in fact I had all but missed morning sedher. I started yelling at H. since he had promised to put on the alarm for me and had apparently tricked me. He acted like it was no big deal so I told him I would divorce him, not that I really wanted to in the dream but rather I wanted to hurt him. To my shock, he also shrugged to this and said "So what if you want, the Beith Din doesn't even meet until Thursday."

Realising that he didn't love me anymore made me want revenge. "I'll write you a get right now," I fumed, and stormed to the desk to take out some ink and a quill. "Haha, like you could write a kosher get," he said. "YES I CAN" I shouted at him, but to my horror, the ink kept blobbing and ruining every single word that I wrote.

Accuracy rating: one star. We're very close and not fighting. The one star is for my subconscious recognising that I would be the one to write H. a get and not vice versa, due to how we did our wedding.

Meanwhile in real life, I had an interview at a pretty seriously filthy gan (kindergarten). It would be just three hours a day for no good money, but something. Not sure if I'll take it. Then I went to learn about how to open and close tefilin for the purposes of checking them, and all the steps that involves. While waiting for the scribe to see me, I wandered around the neighbourhood and sat down on a park bench, beside which there was an amazing graffiti stencil of Tel Avivi drag king Cornelius Crocadildo wearing a top hat. I guess that was the good part of my day.

It's been suggested I go through the yellow pages and find a plumber who will take an apprentice. I'm thinking about it.
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
In Dream #1, I was at the yeshivah, where the rosh yeshivah had been transformed into some sort of redheaded imp/CEO. When I went outside to the garden, I saw "Jimmy" there, someone not at all from real life, and got to talking with him. I found out his last name was Gallagher, and asked him where he was from. He told me Northern Ireland. "Really? Where from in Northern Ireland?" I asked. He told me County Down. "I'm also from County Down!" I exclaimed and we began crying and hugging each other. Note: this dream illustrates the exact opposite of how Northern Irish people actually behave.

In Dream #2, I was in my hometown putting the finishing touches on a public statue which had been commissioned by the municipality. It was made of extremely smooth and heavy cement, and was a seated figure with the body of a lion, the head of a woman, and the wings of a dove. It was painted in parts blue and white using that amazing paint I always wish I could use, the paint cities really use to put down margins in roads and paint poles, that comes out amazingly thick, smooth, and durable.
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
I dreamt yet again that my yeshivah was on a shabathon, this time in the mysterious woods. I saw a student there whom I barely know in real life wearing tefilin. "So you too wear it during the day," I said to him.

He said, "Not only that but I'm thinking of having a tefilin party at midnight tonight."

I said, "What! That is completely bizarre, don't you know you can't put them on after sheqiah and can't go out in public if they already were on during the night? And--" here I put on the most contemptuous tone I could muster "--have you ever heard of qaluth rosh? is that a term that's at all familiar to you? Because that is definitely what a party would be."

He started to cry and began blabbering about Dragonlance novels in which the dialogue was written in an imaginary language but the narrative was written in English. I've never read Dragonlance but I've heard the title before.

Anyway in real life I told the guy about my dream of him, and he said it was surprising since just the night before he had had a dream in which he was wearing tefilin on Shabath and trying to hide the fact in embarrassment. In reality this student came back from an egalitarian yeshivah in America very serious and proper about tefilin.

Another dream concerned my old friend from Saskatoon. He had built a tandem bicycle from scratch and was riding it to visit me, in order to show me a haut couture menswear shirt he had sewn from beautiful earthtones. This is actually something he completely would do and maybe has even done it already.


Dec. 30th, 2011 08:58 am
cremains: (drunken vulcan)
I dreamt I was a ward living with Batman. I was playing on the street with the Peanuts characters and finally as evening came, went inside. I found Robin sitting on the floor with his back to me, but when I came in, he fled tearfully from the room, revealing a newspaper headline: "BATMAN DEAD"

I was shocked and ran into the living room, where I slid against the wall to the floor and tried to tear my shirt, but the material was too strong and I burst into tears. H. came by with a little pair of scissors and started the tear for me, and then I was able to rip the right amount.

Then my dad came in and started throwing away all these drawings I'd made of Batman, the Joker, and even the beloved Bat-Turnip. I tried to tell him they were even more valuable now that Batman was dead but he just threw them in the garbage.
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